Walker stared at him as though trying to read him before nodding curtly. He tossed one of the bags labeled Walker Sports at him.
Grant caught it and examined the shirt, pants and shoes inside.
"You and I should talk," Walker said. "We may not like it, but we're stuck working together, so let's figure out how it's gonna go."
"Okay. How about this? We find the bad guy. We kill him. We go our separate ways." Grant stepped into the jeans and pulled them up his hips.
"It's not that easy. We have no idea what we're up against or how dangerous it is. Like I said before, if we go rampaging in and slaughter him, we might hurt the victims he's connected with." Irritation flickered through Grant like the tickle of a whip. "I don't need you to school me on psychic connections, Balto. I have friends I'm looking out for too, and I don't plan to do anything to hurt them."
"It's not just about shifters. I don't want to put Sherrie at risk. I won't sacrifice her for the sake of our people."
"We have no idea what we're up against, but you're already running scenarios in your mind? Take it easy. I have no wish to hurt the woman." He cocked his head and studied his would-be partner. "Why do you care so much? You don't imagine she's your soul mate, do you?" He drawled the words soul mate.
Wolves were so devoted to the idea of mating for life it was sickening.
"What I feel or don't feel for her is none of your business," Walker snapped.
"So we've established boundaries. You don't try to give orders, and I won't talk about your relationship. I think we're making progress."
The other man stepped close and gazed into his eyes. Grant could smell the lupine in him and it made his skin prickle.
"Let's be clear," Walker said. "This is about responsibility-something you cats can't comprehend. I took this girl from her home and I intend to keep her safe until this is over."
"Then what? She'll go back to her normal life as if none of this has happened?" Grant couldn't help baiting the guy. It was so easy. "Will your pack let her go? Will you?" Walker gave a disgusted growl and pushed past, bumping his shoulder. He knocked softly on the door and called Sherrie's name. The note of longing in his voice revealed everything Grant needed to know about how Walker felt. The shifter was in love with the human, fixated on her the way only a wolf could be. It was said once they found their mate, they were nearly obsessed, and Grant believed it. This guy might kill him if he found out what Grant had been up to with her in the psychic realm. He was glad to be a cat.
Multiple partners shifting and flowing in an erotic dance was a much more natural way to live. And since he'd discovered his ability to reach across the void of space and take a lover in the astral realm, his sex life had become even more interesting.
After a moment, the door opened. Sherrie's body was backlit, showing her curves under the polyester uniform. Her brown hair was gold-gilded in the halo of light. Grant felt a jolt in his chest, the same adrenaline charge of the heart he got when he shifted, and even though he'd just finished having her, he wanted her again.
It was an interesting effect. Luckily he wasn't an emotional fool like Walker and could tell the connection was purely chemical. His body reacted strongly to her because it was compelled. She exuded strong pheromones that excited him like catnip. They were acting on the other man too. Grant could smell his lust and, oddly enough, Walker's arousal spurred his own. The thought of the man's cock stiff in his pants made Grant even harder.
John cleared his throat. "I've brought you clothes. After you change, we should probably get going even though it's not light out yet. I hope you were able to get some sleep."
"Some." Sherrie smiled and accepted the bags. "Thanks." She closed the cabin door, leaving the men in the dark.
Grant exhaled. "That woman is something special. I think she may be more powerful than both of us together. You'd better watch out for that one, buddy."
He grinned as Walker stalked past him once more on the way to the Blazer. Wolves were so easy to rile.
John resented every second of Perron's presence. He'd like to bare fangs and tear the smile right off his smug face. It wasn't just the natural conflict between wolf and panther, but this particular man he couldn't stand … and the way he looked at Sherrie.
Still, he couldn't let his personal feelings interfere with the mission, which was to get to the root of the mysterious illness.
Besides, maybe it was only John's imagination that the panther kept leering at Sherrie. Unfortunately, he'd gotten a strange vibe from her as well ever since he returned from town. She wouldn't meet his eyes when he handed her the bags of clothing. Now, as the Blazer climbed the bumpy mountain road, she kept glancing over her shoulder at Perron in the back seat or watching him in the side view mirror. Had something happened while he was gone? Had she unlocked the door and let Perron inside?
John inhaled deeply, searching for the musk of sex. With the swirling pheromones in the air it was hard to tell what he was smelling, but his hackles rose at the mere thought of this other man touching his woman.
Sherrie leaned forward and turned on the radio to fill the silence in the vehicle. There was only one channel available up here in the mountains and the country music was interspersed with static. After several moments, she turned off the radio and sat back to stare out her window at blackness. Then she turned and looked into the backseat at Grant again.
"Tell us more about yourself, Mr. Perron."
"What do you want to know?"
John glanced in the rearview, catching the glint of Perron's golden eyes in the darkness.
"I don't know. What do you do for a living?"
"Nothing as glamorous as owning a sporting goods shop," he replied dryly. "I make what money I need through trading."
"Like muskrat and beaver pelts?" Sherrie asked.
"Like stocks and bonds. We do have satellite Internet connection at the higher elevations. My house is on the next mountain to the north."
"Oh." Sherrie paused for a moment before going on. "What about your people? John said you're scattered about, that you don't live in a community."
"What John doesn't know about panthers would fill an ocean. We do have a community, maybe not tight knit by wolf standards, but we keep in touch. And we're just as concerned about each other as they are in a crisis like this."
"You said you had friends affected. Anyone close?"
"Marina." Perron's voice was tight, and for the first time John sensed strong emotion instead of cocky attitude. "My … She's my lover sometimes."
"How long ago did she fall victim?"
"Last week. I've tried to reach her inside her mind, but it's like a steel door is barring me. That's when I knew we had to try to find outside help."
"And you dreamed about Sherrie," John supplied. "How exactly does that work?"
"My ability to travel while dreaming only developed during the last couple of years. I have no idea what triggered it," he admitted. "As for prophetic dreams, this is the first time I've had one. I saw Sherrie's face and was led to her, simple as that. Ask your wisewoman how it works. Maybe she'll have some insight."
"I'm sorry about your girlfriend." Sherrie offered a sympathetic smile. "It must be terrifying to see someone you love struck down like that."
"She's a strong woman. I believe she can survive this. She came to the U.S. from Russia six years ago. Slavers brought her along with about a dozen other girls. You've read the stories about how women are kept prisoner and used as sex slaves. Well, Marina's kidnappers got more than they bargained for. She bided her time, let them pay for her passage then ripped them apart." Perron gave a rumbling growl of satisfaction. "After that, she found her way to us. It's important to bring in fresh genes to the pool, don't you agree, Walker?" John grunted in reply. Why was it everything the man said to him sounded laced with irony? And why did his skin prickle in a not entirely unpleasant way at the sound of his sarcastic voice? He turned his attention back to driving.
Paved road turned into a rutted trail and soon it was hard to tell there was a path at all. The vehicle hit a rock, sending a jolt through the vehicle that made John's teeth click together.
"This is as far as we can go," Perron said. "Pull over and we'll hike from here." John's jaw clenched. He'd been about to do that, but now he didn't want to since Perron had commanded it. He drove another quarter of a mile before finally steering the Blazer off the track and parking. He rested his hands on the steering wheel and turned to look at Sherrie in the glow of the dashboard lights.