Who Is The Author Of Personality Of A Black Cat?

"Did you think you could run away from me? is that it, Cat?" Ace asked, his hand tightening around her neck at every seconds. Catherine gasped her hand resting on Ace's as she fought to tear his hand off her. "I asked you a question, kitten. Did you think you could run away from me?" he questioned yet again, this time his voice was so gently that it sent shivers down her spine. Ace doesn't need to shout to show off his dominant bully side, he was like a predator, setting his trap quietly and killing cruelly. "I....I...I never tried to run, Ace. I won't try it ever." She gasped out, Ace smirked and brought her face closer to his. "That's right, Catherine. You are for me, mine to use however I please!" he said and slammed his lips on hers. *A dark highschool novel*

The zombie apocalypse had arrived, and pets could transform into guardians to protect their owners—each person was allowed no more than three. My best friend had spent a fortune on three Tibetan mastiffs. The landlord cleared out a fish tank to raise a crocodile. My boyfriend? He had stormed the zoo and dragged a lion home. And me? I only had three stray cats. The eldest was blind, the second one limped, and the youngest had just turned one month old. The moment the apocalypse system announced that pet slots were locked, I knew I was doomed. I tried to hide with my three disabled cats, hoping to survive quietly. Day one of the apocalypse: terrified… Day two: helpless… Day three: my cats sauntered over, tails swishing, carrying some unidentifiable object. "Mama, I bit off all the zombie heads on this street. How's that? Solid enough?" I was rendered speechless.

I'm a half-baked forensic examiner whose only redeeming quality is the ability to understand animals. The crime scene is inside a lavish villa. The lady of the house lies dead on the floor with a blunt-force injury to the back of her head so deep that her bone is visible. The safe has been pried open, and a million dollars in cash has vanished without a trace. Clear shoe prints mark the backyard wall, evidence that someone has climbed over it. "This one's clear as day. This is a textbook robbery-homicide. The suspect is likely a young male, around six feet tall, has a prior theft record, and knows how to cover his tracks. Check the surveillance footage in the area and look into places where he might've moved the stolen cash." The director of the forensic science center, Egbert Woodward, has been in the profession for three decades and is a widely respected authority. The officers at the scene nod in unison and begin taking notes. I'm the only one who stares at the 30 flies circling the ceiling for a full 3 minutes before taking a step forward and piping up, "Dr. Woodward, this isn't a robbery-homicide. It's a crime of passion. The murderer is the victim's husband!"

They always said you should not pick up a stranger from the roadside. However, what if he were devastatingly handsome? I brought home a badly injured man I found by the roadside. When he woke up, he could not remember a thing. I took care of him for three months, and, as expected, we fell in love. Without a ceremony and without guests, we consummated our marriage. It was just the two of us. When I was three months pregnant, that jerk regained his memory. He left me a letter and said he had something more important to do and that he would come back for me once it was done. I knew those were just excuses. When he got his memory back, he must have looked down on me for being a farmer’s daughter and wanted to abandon me after having his fun. However, the day I gave birth, imperial guards showed up at my door with the royal carriage. They brought an official decree, written by the man. He wanted to bring me to the palace, make me his queen, and make my child the prince. As I gazed at the baby leopards sleeping soundly on my bed, I was stunned. “My little ones, could you really become princes?”

After toiling in the underworld for three hundred years, I finally earned enough merit to be reincarnated. Then the King of Hell got drunk. Instead of sending me back as a human, he accidentally dropped me into the animal realm, where I was reborn as a plump orange cat belonging to the Sterlings, one of the wealthiest families in Evermont. Feeling guilty, the King of Hell compensated me with a hundred-year lifespan and one bizarre bonus: I could understand babies. Since I was stuck there anyway, I embraced the easy life, growing up alongside Victoria Sterling, the Sterlings' spoiled young heiress. Over the years, she became my devoted meal ticket, and I became an irreplaceable member of her family. On the day she gave birth, I lounged outside the delivery room, happily crunching on my imported freeze-dried treats. A panicked baby voice suddenly echoed in my head. [Waaah! I don't want them to take me away! My scumbag father is swapping me with his illegitimate daughter!] [I don't want to end up in an orphanage! I don't want to leave Mommy!] Before I could process that, another baby's voice rang out sinisterly. [Once I become the real heiress, the first thing I'll do is poison that woman and that fat cat.] I froze mid-bite. Every hair on my body stood on end. [Meow. You really picked the wrong cat to mess with.] [Anyone who dares lay a finger on the girl I raised is about to learn a very painful lesson.] With one powerful kick of my hind legs, I launched myself like a furry cannonball straight toward the delivery room.

"You see things in me that no one could ever see, not even me." His eyes rest on my lips before he leans closer until I can feel his warm breath against my face. Keira killed her cheating boyfriend and her best friend out of anger. The police are looking for her everywhere and she has nowhere to go. William appears and convinces her to follow him to an agency outside the city. Since that day, she has been trained as a secret agent in exchange for her protection from the authorities and the laws. This is where she has met people who changed her life and most importantly, their best agent, a mysterious man whose eyes are as dark as the night and his appearance as gracious as a feline. They call him the Black Tiger.