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Spliced
Volume 2, Chapter 59: Stray

Volume 2, Chapter 59: Stray

Cat didn’t go back to her garage that night. She had a bed there, above where she worked, but she rarely slept in it. She slept better when there was someone else in the room. It made the nightmares less frequent. She never stayed in one bed too long either but there were some she went back to regularly. Baz’s little shack had become one of those places.

Baz was with a client when she got there. He glanced up briefly and gave her the once over, checking to see whether she’d turned up in need of medical attention or simply in want of company.

Satisfied that she wasn’t dying, he turned his attention back to his work. He was stitching up some poor bloke who looked like he’d pushed his luck a bit too far in one of those semi-illegal but tolerated fight clubs.

That had been her once, back when she’d first returned to Little Rock. There was good money to be made out there, if you know how to throw a punch and dodge a fireball. Cat had mostly stuck to the physical only fights but there had been many a night where she’d pushed her luck too hard and ended up on Baz’s table.

The healers board was not a fan of the fight clubs for an obvious reason. They had the full support of the aristocrats and the local council to heavily charge anyone who walked into the hospital with injuries incurred in a fight, and so, those in the know found other places to go where they could be fixed up.

Baz was no healer, nor did he look like one, with his large teddy-bear like frame and overgrown beard. His plaid shirt and jeans were old and shabby but they were durable. He could have passed for a lumberjack if not for the needle and thread in his gloved hands.

Cat leaned against the door frame and watched him work. Baz may not be a healer but his mother had been and she had taught Baz most of his medical knowledge before she’d died. The early death of a parent was something they had in common, although Baz had never known his father.

Baz’s patient eyed Cat warily with darting bruised eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t been at the fight clubs, perhaps he’d simply gotten on the wrong side of some unscrupulous individual. Baz treated all sorts of folks. He was good for the price he charged. He never talked too much, his hands were steady, his tongue wasn’t too bad either Cat thought with a wry smile to herself.

Cat ignored his patient and kept her eyes on Baz. She liked the way he focused so singularly on his tasks. He’d built this house himself, years ago, just enough room for what he needed and no more. He could do basic car and motorcycle maintenance and he wasn’t a bad driver. He could hunt and fish, and oh gods his cooking was to die for. But he never bragged or wanted for much. He never asked too many questions. She came and went and he never complained, and so she came back again, sometimes after months in someone else’s bed. It was to this little cozy, comfy, shack which she returned more than anywhere.

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Baz didn’t get by on just providing medical care though. He did other jobs too, cleaning mostly, but sometimes he worked as a bouncer, not just because he was a big guy but because his powers made him well suited to it. It was ironic for someone who preferred to clean and fix things to have a power like his. With one thought he could make every nerve in your body feel like it was being ripped out and set on fire, and when people experienced that much pain, they rarely spared a thought for using their own abilities. But Baz didn’t use it often. He was, most of the time, as Cat saw him, a giant teddy bear.

With no more than a grunt Baz let the guy know that his work was done. There was an exchange of money and then the patient skulked out the door and into the night.

Once he was gone and Baz had tided up, he turned to Cat. He gave her another once over, no doubt confirming his initial assessment of no injuries. He didn’t trust her to give an honest response anymore so now he never bothered asking. Once she had turned up with a bullet wound that hadn’t been immediately obvious. He had had another patient then too. Baz had asked her if she could wait and she had said that she could. He hadn’t been too happy when he’d asked what she had come there for and she’d lifted up her shirt to reveal a weeping hole in her side. It might have seemed like a rude question to ask but it had been the middle of the day, not when she usually showed up and Baz was not one for beating around the bush, not that sort of bush anyway.

Cat liked his eyes on her. She leaned against the door frame at an angle which she knew accentuated every curve, and she could see from the way Baz’s gaze tracked that he was not unappreciative.

“Bed?” was all Baz asked.

Cat had but to nod.

Baz always let Cat initiate things physically. He never pushed her and he never tired to go on top. That was how Cat liked it. She also liked how he stretched his head back and the way she could hear his breathing quicken. The way his lips parted slightly and his hips pressed upward, hard between her legs. She liked the way he grunted when he was done and how afterward he would wrap her in a tight hug before they fell asleep together in that tiny room with no windows and no door, just a corner and a hallway hid them from the rest of the house. It felt like a bear’s cave or a den, quiet, warm, and safe.

Cat had meant to tell him about the baby. There would come a point where she would no longer be able to hide it. But in their moment of passion Cat had decided that conversation could wait, at least one more night, just like she had decided the night before.

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A ringing phone woke her up early in the morning. She stretched her naked body and reached her hands out for Baz even before she’d opened her eyes. Finding nobody there, she propped herself up, still half asleep and looked around the room.

He stood at the end of the bed, pants halfway on, phone to his ear. “Yep, I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and seeing she was awake he added, “Got a job. I’ll see you later.”

“Mmm,” she replied as she lowered her head back down to the pillow. A moment later she opened one eye and asked, “Is it Coal?”

But Baz had already left.