You have conditions?”
“Yes, I have conditions.”
“Okay, Wells. I’ll bite. What are your conditions?”
“I need to see how you look with your shirt off. This directly relates to my general interest and willingness to put up with a male lion in my territory. Also, I require roars. I’m high maintenance, and roars are a fundamental part of my general emotional health. Your roars make me purr, and lynxes need to purr at least once a day. If we don’t purr once a day, at a minimum, we’re unhappy, and unhappy lynxes make everyone around them miserable. I’m unhappy often, and that should be a crime.”
Considering I rarely had a reason to purr, I thought my new requirement of having a daily reason to purr was reasonable.
“According to your file, you’re a candidate for anti-depressants and therapy.” Sebastian shook his head. “You just want me out of my clothes.”
“I absolutely do want you out of your clothes. You are currently the only male feline I’ve met who isn’t severely offensive to my delicate sensibilities.”
“Is anything about you actually delicate?”
“My sensibilities around most male felines. And don’t get me started about wolves. My virus hates wolves. Honestly, I hate most unmated wolves almost as much as my virus does. She likes only male felines, thank you. And she hates male felines who flinch at my scars. And she really hates male wolves who flinch or run away because of my scars. I liked a wolf once. He ran away when he saw me without makeup. I even cried for five whole minutes, mostly out of rage he ran away.”
“I see. And most of your targets are male wolves, which your virus strongly dislikes. Of course, most of the culprits are male wolves, as felines are more thorough in the pursuing of partners and tend to be more methodical in their approach, where wolves are more likely to jump to the chase.”
While other lycanthrope species existed, wolves were the top dog in pure numbers, which made them statistically the most probable to end up with a bounty.
The other species tended to take more care. It had taken at least four litters before my parents had warmed up to the neighbors, or so claimed my older brothers.
I wondered what my parents would think if they found out I liked a damned lion as much as my persnickety virus did. “It makes beating the fucking shit out of the worst transgressors very pleasant. It makes my virus very happy when she eliminates male wolves who violated a woman’s right to choose her mate. I’ll do it again, Sumners. Just you try to stop me.”
“The whole point is to cultivate you into continuing such behaviors, Wells. Your supply of transgressors is not at risk. And what does your virus want to do with most male felines?”
“Skin them, because most male felines are vain and annoying—or related to me. My virus only wants related male felines for familial cuddle piles. I hope lions like familial cuddle piles. My mother demanded I bring home a male of any species or I’m probably grounded for life. Apparently, my days as a single feline lycanthrope are over, and they’ll take steps if I don’t bring home a male. They’re talking wolves, Sebastian. Me! With a wolf! There’s nothing wrong with wolves as long as I’m not expected to share my living spaces with them. I don’t like wolves.”
The wolves always flinched first. If someone told me wolves had zero control of their faces and couldn’t hide their emotions, I would believe it. Lynxes tended to be stunned for a few seconds before flinching, unless I scared a lynx kitten, in which case the crying began immediately.
“Why don’t you like wolves?”
“Always with the fucking sniffing! At my turf. Constantly. Without invitation. And they don’t roar. I like roars, not howls. I don’t want a damned howling wolf. Howls are not satisfying. I only like roars. A roar is the sound of satisfaction. That plus that one asshole broke my fragile little heart flinching at my face and running away. That hurt. It took an entire pint of my momma’s ice cream to overcome the grief associated with a wolf, the self-proclaimed romantics of the lycanthrope race, running away upon seeing my face. Also, the mournful howling over having been beaten up by a bunch of angry cats afterwards. So much drama, Sumners. But it took an entire pint of my momma’s ice cream to get over that. And it happens with every