Page 24 of Murder Mittens

“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 wolf, too. I’ve eaten a lot of my momma’s ice cream. And not a word that I call her my momma. But when it comes to the ice cream, she’s my momma.”

Hmm. Next time I visited my parents, I’d have to tip my father I needed another pint of my momma’s ice cream so he’d buy extra. I wouldn’t be grieving, however. I would be celebrating having gotten multiple roars out of the lion.

“Roars are the sound of frustration, dominance, or pure pleasure,” the lion replied. “Pure pleasure is a form of satisfaction, just so you are aware. Also, since we’re being open and honest about the relationships with our parents, I, too, have called my mother such things in my adult life. It makes her happy when I call her my mommy. She’s Mom most of the time, but she’s my mommy when she’s had a hard day and needs love.”

Huh. We’d have to compare notes to see which one of us had the best family. I looked forward to pursuing that discussion later. “I am pleased you are wise enough to make your momma happy with you by calling her your mommy at the appropriate intervals. With that settled, roars are the sound of my satisfaction, not yours. Any satisfaction you get from me making you roar out of frustration is purely coincidental. Most people call that masochism. If that’s what you’re into, I mean, that’s great. It would explain why you insisted I antagonize you in person.”

With a little chuckle, he relaxed in his seat. “Yet you’re the one who wants to get me out of my shirt.”

“Hello? You’re a male lion. I’m a virgin, not blind or dead. I’m also a single lycanthrope. Male lions have a reputation of being pretty and being useful. I’m curious, just like a self-respecting feline should be. How do I know if you’re representative of male lions if you don’t take your shirt off? And anyway, if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine, but while my bra is nice, what’s underneath could use some work.”

“I’m a male lion, Wells. I don’t give a shit if you have scars. Males of any species appreciate female feline flesh put on display. As I’m a male lion, I appreciate when I’m aware the female feline flesh belongs to someone who is capable of taking care of herself. Self-reliance is attractive. The only reason I don’t like your scars is because you don’t like them.”

I needed more time than I had to think about his statement, what it changed for me, and how his view of me would change when I finally got my scars removed. “Well, I mean, who would enjoy having the kittens scream and cry upon sight of me? That sucks, by the way. Every new litter, I have to acclimate the new kittens to my face. They tend to cry and scream until they’re old enough to understand this is just my face.” I pointed at my cheek, which had undergone the worst of the damage. “I’m not really sure what happened to the bone. Probably debris fell on me. I was not conscious for that portion of the fire, which is probably a good thing.”

“I can understand how that would be traumatic for someone. Lions are very fond of having little kittens around. If lionesses were more interested in having many litters around rather than only one or two kids at a time, felines would rule over all lycanthropes. But young lions require a lot of attention, and lionesses get cranky when having to deal with two lions. One is bad enough. Two lions test the patience of any lioness. Lions roar. Often. Having to deal with three lions at one time? Superwoman territory there.”

My virus approved. “How often do lions roar, precisely? This directly influences the bad choices I’ll make in the next few minutes.”

He chuckled. “I have noticed you seem to develop a severe purring problem when I start roaring at you.”

How tragic for my pride. He’d noticed my purring problem. “I can’t help but notice that did not stop you from roaring.”

“I’m a male feline, and I’ve seen my mother cranky enough to understand denying female felines of their joys in life might lead to someone being mauled. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. And you kept coming back for more, so it seemed wise of me to provide. Of course, I would put up a token resistance to make you earn some of those roars. Truth be told, I’d assumed you were a different cat species rather than a lynx, but having seen your file and knowing your call sign, I shouldn’t have been surprised. At all.”

If his goal was to make me purr, he was doing a good job of it. “As long as I can taunt you into roaring, you can resist however much you want, but I will get my roars.”

“I am known to roar when frustrated, when I need to establish that I am the most dominant of felines, and when I’m particularly satisfied. That is three ways you could coerce me into roaring for your enjoyment.”

“You? More dominant than me? I am a lynx, and lynxes are the most superior of cats. We have a monopoly on plush fur, my paws are bigger, and I am a fierce huntress.”

“We’re going to have to do a comparison of our paws, obviously. And our fur. And we’ll have to posture while doing so.” Sebastian stretched, and he did so in such a way his muscles flexed beneath his suit.

Meow. “Keep doing that. That makes you look rather strong. My mother would immediately understand why I might bring home a lion when she sees those muscles.”

If I wasn’t careful, I’d start purring without being able to use his roars to mask the sound.

“I see your mother enjoys brute strength. Which lions have.”

“My mother is half my father’s size, and the rougher he gets, the happier she is. We, that is the rest of my family, myself included, flee when she starts trying to bully my father into using his strength. It’s a lynx thing. We’re rowdy.”

“As lions are substantially stronger and larger than lynxes, I am sure I can appease your need to struggle. Lionesses enjoy a good struggle before being loved into submission. Lions are patient when it comes to subduing stubborn female felines. How does a lynx compare to a lioness? That is the question.”

“Lynxes are obviously superior. This shouldn’t even be up for debate.”

“If you appreciate being subdued, I am concerned about the fate of this truck.” Sebastian examined the cab, making thoughtful noises in his throat. “Perhaps we should handle that other business first, and then I will make appropriate accommodations so you can be properly subdued without damaging your daddy’s truck. I had not scheduled time for subduing a female feline today. I hope you can finish your work quickly, and I have decided that I am going to add additional punishments should you be scratched or bruised.”

I did not need any guidance from either of my parents to fully comprehend what the lion had in mind. “But will you roar, Sumners?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Five

We can fight over the body.

In addition to a paycheck, if everything went well, I would get a lion, and my virus wanted me to hurry up and get to the serious work of taming Sebastian Sumners. If my virus had her way, I would have pulled over, yanked him out of the truck, and secured him on the side of the road without a care in hell who witnessed me snapping and tearing him out of his suit and having my way with him.

Given ten more minutes, my virus would spike so hard I wouldn’t be able to see straight for a week.