Eric was like that, acting all laid-back and too lazy to do anything. The truth was, he was the dominant Feline—the dominant Shifter—of Shiftertown, and he could switch from laid-back kitty cat to killing machine in a heartbeat.
His mate, Iona, came out of the house with a little more animation. Iona was a sassy sweetheart, even more so now that she was pregnant and about to drop her first cub. Her wildcat was mostly panther—which, everyone had explained to Graham, was a rare, black form of leopard. Explained why she and Eric, a snow leopard, got along so well. The pair of them could be scary as hell when they wanted to be, but mostly they sat around looking pleased with themselves. Felines.
Iona started to ask, “What exactly happened?” as Graham lifted his bike out of the back of Diego’s truck, but Graham cut over her words.
“We need to contain those humans, Warden. They hurt Misty, and I’m not letting them get away with that.”
Another human came out of the house—Paul, Misty’s younger brother. He had dark brown eyes, like Misty’s, and he was rawboned and lanky, like Dougal. He’d shaved off his hair during his time in prison, but he looked too young for the buzz. For a human, he was full-grown, twenty-three or something like that, but still he looked very young.
He’d been in prison for the last five years, serving a sentence for riding in the back of a stolen car when it had gotten into a wreck that killed other humans. Paul’s lawyer had finally gotten him parole six months ago. Graham had been partly responsible for his parole—he’d growled at Eric and Diego until the two had used their influence in the law enforcement system around here to get the kid released.
“Is she all right?” Paul asked anxiously. “Where is she?”
“Home,” Graham said. “She needed a break, all right?”
Eyes focused on Graham. Two pairs of Feline eyes, Lupine ones from Dougal, the human eyes of Paul and Diego, and the weird, black-hole eyes of Stuart Reid.
Graham had seen a glimmer of pure rage in Reid’s dark eyes when Graham had told him about the Fae. Reid hated Fae—he called them hoch alfar—hated them more than Shifters did . . . Nah, that wasn’t possible.
“She’s fine,” Graham said into the silence. “Xavier is looking out for her. But we have to cut it off at the source. If we get the leader, the rest will go down easy.”
“Already being taken care of,” Eric said mildly. “Diego?”
“DX Security tracked down Sam Flores and his gang nursing themselves at their safe house. Looks like you and Dougal ripped them up pretty good. I dutifully reported Flores’s criminal activity to the police. I know guys on the force who were happy to shovel Sam Flores and his boys back into prison. They broke their parole, so they’re history. My friends found Dougal’s motorcycle and are returning it to the DX Security offices as we speak.”
Graham had meant something more permanent for Flores, like quietly breaking his neck and burying him somewhere no one would find him. That’s what Flores had intended to do to Misty and Paul, and Graham saw no reason to be lenient.
But human justice was different from Shifter justice. Graham knew he had to let Diego take care of it, much as it chafed him. Diego had been a very good cop, with awards and everything, and the humans respected him, even after he’d mated with a Shifter.
Diego’s Shifter mate came out of the house now, carrying their eight-month-old cub, Amanda. Attention left Graham and turned to the baby, who looked fearlessly out at the world from the safety of her mother’s arms. She had Diego’s dark hair but Cassidy’s Feline green eyes. Diego had been surprised by the green eyes, but genetics worked a little differently for Shifters. Amanda would be Feline, like Cassidy, but because she was half human, she’d not change into her Feline form for a few years yet.
Cassidy smiled at Diego, her love for her human obvious. Diego had gone through a Fae magic ritual that would extend his lifespan to be close to what Cassidy’s natural one would be. Graham had always wondered why the Fae had agreed, centuries ago, to perform this service for Shifters who took human mates, but he’d never bothered to track down a Fae and ask him. Graham stayed as far away from anything Fae as he possibly could.
Which brought him back around to the current problem. The shot he’d taken was a flea bite compared with what the Fae had potentially done to him.
And no one could know. Graham had told Reid, but Reid could keep his mouth shut. If any hint got out among the Shifters that Graham might be Fae-touched, he’d be finished. His wilder Lupines might try to kill him and take over his power. Eric would try to stop them, and then there’d be a battle to the death, a bloodbath the Collars couldn’t slow. Eric would win in the end, but a lot of good Shifters could die, including cubs.
This was turning out to be one hell of a day.
“I’m going home,” Graham said. “Call me if you need help taking out the humans.”
“Thanks, Graham,” Paul said after him. “For helping her.”
Graham made an indifferent wave. “Whatever.” He and Dougal, who still didn’t want to move more than a step away from Graham, went home, wheeling Graham’s broken bike between them.
• • •
Graham lived in the new section of Shiftertown, where houses were still under construction. Graham’s house and about six others were completely done, the others nearing completion.
Because Graham was a leader, he’d insisted on his house being bigger than the others. Eric might play I’m-the-same-as-you with his Shifters, but Graham decided to never let others forget his position. A Shifter played with fire if he did.
The newer houses were more modern looking than the ones on Eric’s street, with stucco and tile, and lots of windows. Graham’s house had a second floor. The older portion of Shiftertown had been built in the 1960s, when people kept out the heat with small windows set high under the eaves, thick outer walls, and flat, white roofs. Graham had insisted on more modern insulation and double-paned windows, and Iona, who owned the construction company that built the houses, had agreed.
All the new houses had air-conditioning that worked, so Graham walked into a cool haven. He shut the door behind him and Dougal and let out a sigh of relief.
Dougal was still stressed. Graham could scent it on the lad, sweat mixed with panic and exhaustion.
Graham turned to his nephew, who was starting to curl in on himself, straightened him up, and pulled him into another hard hug. Graham had been doing this for thirty years, he realized—holding Dougal while he grew up.