The issue of asking Walker to undo his mother’s spell was shoved to the back of my mind.
Why? Because I woke up the next morning, once again...a cat.
The universe isn’t just against me; it has a personal grudge.
For the past two days, I’ve been living the luxurious life of a spoiled pet, eating, playing, and sleeping without a care. Walker, meanwhile, seems hell-bent on fattening me up like a prize pig, probably just so he can serve me on a silver platter later.
At least he’s let me out of that wretched prison of a room. He must assume I won’t bother escaping. And, unfortunately… he’s not wrong.
I consider my options.
Oh, wait, I have none. How utterly delightful.
Note the dripping sarcasm.
A hand glides down to the base of my tail, fingers pressing into the soft fur there. My body reacts before my mind can protest, back arching, ears flattening, fur bristling along my spine. Instinct takes over, and in a flash, I’ve caught the offending hand between my canines. But I don’t bite down. I can’t. Because as much as I want to sink my teeth in, it’s the same hand that feeds me. Literally.
With an indignant flick of my tail, I release him and roll onto my back, shamelessly exposing my belly in silent demand.
Walker, as always, indulges me. His palm drifts over my fur with practiced ease, fingers skimming the plush softness of my stomach. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. Yet when I meet his gaze, those familiar, haunting eyes pierce through me, stirring memories I wish I could silence.
I tear my eyes away, looking instead toward the sky. A full moon is nearly a month away. My current form isn’t painful, but it turns my mission into an impossible feat, shackling me in ways I loathe.
Going home feels like a distant fantasy, slipping further from reach with each passing day.
And Wilde… whatever became of him after I left? That answer feels even more unattainable, a question swallowed by time itself.
A sigh escapes me, but the warmth of the sun and the rhythmic motion of Walker’s hand lull me into surrender. My eyes drift shut, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I allow myself to be carried away, not by duty, not by regret, just by the quiet comfort of touch and the golden embrace of daylight.
We are in Walker's room, his new room. Not the one where I first arrived in this world, where I collapsed against him, drowsy and disoriented. That chamber had been tailored for a man burdened by injury, accommodating his limitations with quiet resignation. But this room, this one has no such concessions. It is designed for the fully able-bodied, free of rails, ramps, or the subtle markers of infirmity. Somehow, the absence soothes me, a silent testament to resilience, to recovery.
In my world, kindness was not a currency I could afford to trade freely. Softness invited scrutiny, invited doubt. The business world was ruthless, and being a woman only sharpened the knives aimed at my back. Survival demanded an armor of pragmatism, a carefully cultivated air of indifference. And yet, here, in this place so far removed from boardrooms and battlefields, I allow myself to appreciate the simple grace of this moment.
Before me, a lavish spread has been arranged with the same opulence I encountered upon my arrival in this world. Silver trays gleam under the warm flicker of candlelight, their contents an orchestra of fragrances, rich broths, tender meats, delicacies unfamiliar yet tantalizing. The only anomaly is the wine, deep and crimson, a stark contrast to the golden liquors that had previously graced my table.
I have never liked alcohol.
The memory unfurls unbidden, a ghost from another life, another man.
“Your name,” he said.
“What about my name? Isn’t it pretty?”
“Not pretty.”
Wilde had spoken with such certainty, his disapproval cutting through the night air like the edge of a blade. Even now, I do not understand.
My gaze catches on the reflection in Walker’s glass, feline features shimmering against the surface of the dark liquid. Something stirs within me, a reckless curiosity, a need to breach the space between then and now. To taste what he tasted. To understand.
Before I can reconsider, I rise onto my hind legs, my whiskers twitching as I lower my mouth to the rim of the goblet. My tongue flicks out, grazing the surface of the wine. The taste is bold, heady, richer than I expect. A slow heat unfurls in my throat, curling in my stomach.
I wonder if this is how Wilde felt in that moment, if this same fire had burned through him, had made him say those words.
Not pretty.
And yet, he had never let me go.
...
Author's Note: SHOUTOUT TO YOU GUYS I LOVE Y'ALL MWAH MWAH MWAH
KCastle2004
I've just been fucked lately coz my friends going through some shit and I'm not exactly loving it but I'm not made to be quiet so now I have no one to yap to and it's making me die inside I wasn't made to be NONCHALANT and now they just forcing me like 💔😔💀 anygays I love you guys I'm gonna try to put down the urge to rewrite the whole thing that keeps annoying me to no end. We started this book somewhere in april 2024 and its 2025 april. Uh so happy one year to us ig. On a happier note my hair is finally longer so I don't feel like a twink anymore (😭)
Once again I love you guys for voting and commenting, I was so happy when we hit 25k reads best shit in my life.
And uh if someone has a bestfriend slot open and has no life and loves oversharing, please text me (I'm dying)
💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
Edit: 9th June 2025, I'm very sick mentally and physically so as much as I wanna write my fingers istg my fingers be hurting so fucking bad but imma continue this coz it's my baby story and I love it with my heart and the plot is already completed I just have to gather my wits and type it. Thank you for bearing with me and supporting me.
YOU ARE READING
𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃
Roman d'amour𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝑨𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅. Fanyin's life was already complicated, but nothing could have prepared her for the ultimate plot twist: being thrown into alternate worlds by a system with a bee mascot. The catch? She has to c...
