The meeting ended and droves of Weres vacated the building. There were still some inside, including Angie, but this would be my best chance. I couldn’t wait for another day. Swooping down to the pavement, I changed to my wolf in one fluid motion, and four paws hit the cement instead of talons. The smell of citrus and sunshine overwhelmed my nose and I struggled to discern one Wereleopard scent from another. I loped around the block a number of times. Each time I caught a whiff of Landen’s killer, the scent slipped away—either old and fading, or I’d lost my mind and tried to find something that didn’t exist. Landen’s scent was absent. Not worn out, fleeting, fading. Absent. Landen had never been to this pride’s headquarters.
Angie’s scent branched off in two main directions, one toward work and one in the opposite direction. Maybe her plastic surgeon? More like her Witch. I grunted and kept walking. Plastic surgery didn’t last on Weres. The body would revert back to its original form on the next shift. The Were virus went right down to the genetic level, and until they were able to splice genes and alter genetic codes, there would be no lasting nose jobs for Weres. There was, on the other hand, Witch enhancements, and I suspected Angie had a standing appointment.
Tired of failure, I made it back to the front of the house and chanced a closer sniff. The stench of dead meat and dried blood stopped me in my tracks. My senses sharpened. It took every ounce of self-control to stop the growl that rumbled its way up my throat. Vampire.
A door inside the house slammed shut and a murmur of voices grew louder, heading toward me. I didn’t want to get caught. My wolf scent would be all over the yard and they’d know someone sniffed them out, but not who. Angie didn’t know my wolf scent, only my human one, which meant the intrusion couldn’t be tracked back to me. Shifting to my falcon, I flew into the night. Safe, for now.
Chapter Twenty
Wick stooped over his computer muttering, too engrossed in what he was reading to notice I arrived back at the wolf lair. He looked up and smiled when I cleared my throat. The sight of those shining pearly whites caused something to constrict in my chest.
“What are you up to?” I cocked my hip against the counter and crossed my arms.
“Doing some research.” His smile grew. “Andy-style.”
“On what?”
“Cats.”
“Excuse me?”
“Big cats,” he explained. “Like you.”
“Oh, that makes a lot of sense.” My tone made it clear it didn’t.
“Well I have been thinking about what you said,” he paused. “About us not being together.”
“You listened?” Alphas had a way of ignoring what other people said if they didn’t like it—stubborn to the bone.
“I did. And guess what I found out?” His expression riddled with excitement.
I flopped down on the chair across from him, exhaling the air in my lungs in a big whoosh. “What?”
“Big cats are not monogamous. We don’t have to worry about your cat mating with another.”
“Wick…” I started.
“No. Listen to this. According to Preter-Pedia, cougars are solitary and adults meet for the sole purpose of reproduction.” Wick referred to the online encyclopedia that specialized in information relevant to preternatural groups.
“Wick…” I tried again.
“If we mated, your cat wouldn’t interfere with it, because she wouldn’t try to life bond with another.”
“Wick, being a mountain lion Shifter…” I stressed the name. “Is not exactly like being a mountain lion. Like being a Werewolf isn’t like being a wolf.”
Wick frowned, taking a moment before renewing his attack. “Has your cat ever tried to mate with anyone or given the inclination she wanted to?”
That made me pause. My cat definitely let me know when a man appealed to her, but that differed from what happened between my wolf and Wick’s. “Well, no.”
“Have you met any feline Weres or Shifters?”
“Yes.” It came out slowly, like a hiss. I’d killed a few. Did that count?
“Do they have a mating bond like Werewolves?”
“Not that I know of. They’re more serial monogamists,” I explained. How the hell would I know? Just because supes limped out of the closet eighty years ago, didn’t mean they openly discussed their business. The Shifter Shankings had given everyone else fair warning of the ramifications for such actions. All preternatural groups kept a tight lid on their secrets.
“Did your cat like any of them?” He asked in a matter-of-fact way, as if the answer wouldn’t upset him. Maybe it wouldn’t. Personally, I hated hearing about a boyfriend’s past relationships. Though I knew the women were in the past, I’d still feel a twinge of jealousy. Okay. More than a twinge. Wolf’s don’t typically share, and I knew Wick’s wolf must be growling in his head, but nothing showed on his face or scent besides optimism and hope.