Her head bobbed again, and a smile stole over my face. She liked me. Or she at least preferred me to a group of strange men. Either way, it was a good start.

“How ’bout lasagna? I think there’s some left from supper.”

The tabby shook her head, so I tried again. “Chicken? We had fried chicken last night.”

She nodded again, and the tips of my fingers tingled in excitement. Accepting food from me meant she was starting to trust me. Either that, or she was starving, and the clear view of every one of her ribs told me which answer was more likely. “Okay, I’ll be right back. I’m just going to give your order to the waiter. Okay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded reluctantly, and I slipped into the hall before she could change her mind.

“What happened?” Carver asked the minute the door closed behind me. He and Lucas stood across from the door, eyeing me eagerly. Marc stood to the left, syringe in one fist, ready to burst in, should I need him. But I was pretty sure I wouldn’t now.

“She’s hungry.” I stuck my hands in my pockets and glanced up at Lucas. “Could you stick some of that leftover chicken in the microwave?”

“Sure. Potatoes too?”

“Nah. I think she wants meat.” He nodded and took off down the hall, and I turned to Marc and the doctor, who was practically humming with excited energy. “She’s still in the corner, but she’s trying to communicate.”

“She ready to Shift yet?” Marc asked, clearly less than pleased with my progress.

“We haven’t gotten that far.” I ran my finger down a groove in the rough wall paneling. “But she’s answering yes or no questions.”

“She’s not violent?”

“Of course not!” I scowled at Marc until he nodded pointedly toward Dr. Carver’s arm, and I had to concede his point. Damn it. “She hasn’t lifted a paw against me. She’s just scared and hungry, but I’m sure I can get her to open up.” I was also sure she was listening to every word we said.

“Well, hurry up then,” Marc snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’d be nice to have something concrete to show your father when he’s trying to decide whether or not to skin us alive for this.”

He was right, so I slipped back into the bedroom, pleased to see the tabby still sitting on her haunches, watching the door for my return. “Your chicken’s coming.” I headed for the nearest bed, and her eyes followed my progress. When she voiced no objection to my approach, I settled onto the mattress and tucked my feet beneath me. We were now separated only by several feet of empty floor space.

“Are you cold?” I asked, remembering how frigid the floorboards were against my bare feet.