"You're a panwere, right? You just don't change shape, so our lycanthropy protects us from any other disease but the lycanthropy."
I frowned, because I hadn't really thought about it like that. "I don't know; since I can carry multiple strains of lycanthropy, I'm not a hundred percent sure I can't catch other diseases."
He nodded. "That's true, so you still have to worry about STDs."
"If I'm with humans," I said.
"Are you ever with humans?"
"No, but I bet you do just fine with the human women," I said.
He smiled, and it was almost shy. "I tried dating humans, but I can't tell them what I am, and you can't hide it forever."
"No," I said, "you can't."
"It's like denying what I am, who I am. It's almost lonelier than not having anyone in my arms."
I nodded. "I had a boyfriend, a fiancé who wanted me to do the white picket fence—so not my gig."
He grinned at me. "I can feel that you want me." He leaned over me, sniffing against the side of my face. "I can still smell the scent of red, and white, and blue . . . and something else I've never smelled before. You smell sweet and . . . Why do I see gold in my head? A gold tiger."
"Because part of you is gold."
"That's not possible," he said.
"I can smell the truth on your skin."
He drew in a deep breath.