Chapter 17
Oliver, Lady Caterly’s Lover—or Ollie as he was more affectionately known to his owners—was not a curious cat. He was, however, hungry.
And patient.
He could smell the tiny, warm creature that lurked just behind the stove in the kitchen. He could taste her eager fear, the pulse point where desire blended with terror. Ollie would taste that himself, yes, he would. He curled his tail around his paws, the tip twitching with barely concealed anticipation. She would come, yes, she would. She couldn’t resist the feast and then he would be the one to feast, make her squeal.