His lip curled and his cat purred. Damn, he missed her already. Maybe he should’ve insisted on going with her to see the elders, letting the three ancient females know just to whom their new recruit belonged. But he was trying not to be a possessive bastard. Trying to let her come to the realization that they belonged together on her own.
Of course, he wouldn’t wait long.
Twenty-four hours.
Tick. Tock.
“Come to check on your voodoun?”
His cat’s fur prickled and he turned around, eyed the party behind him. Raphael and two of the Pantera’s best physicians entered the lab, the latter wearing pale blue coats and looking very concerned.
Baptiste shifted instantly, loving the new and precious feeling of control he now had over his animal.
Raphael’s tired, green eyes narrowed with the new, quick and easy act. “Well, this a new development.”
Not confirming or denying the Suit’s assessment, Jean-Baptiste walked toward them. “The voodoun. She awake?”
“She is,” Angel said dryly, his night-black eyes and white short hair a startling contrast. “Awake and pissed.”
Grabbing the stack of charts from Angel’s hands, CJ headed for her desk. “I think the last time I checked in on her, she was planning your death.”
Just as he’d expected. “Weapon of choice?”
The red-haired female glanced up from her charts. “A little of everything. She was talking blades when we examined her. Then a very dull saw when we took blood.”
They’d done a full work-up? Christ, she was going to be spitting fire. “Did you give her anything?”
“Just some anti-nausea meds. She was pretty green when she woke up. But the meds seemed to have given her some relief.”
“Has she seen Ashe?” Jean-Baptiste asked.
Raphael growled before anyone could answer. “She’s refused.”
Damned, stubborn woman. “I’ll talk to her.”
“You need to do more than talk, Baptiste,” Raphael said, closing the gap between them, his nostrils flaring. “You need to convince her to come and see Ashe, help her, cure her—”
“Raphael—” he began.
But the leader of the Suits was too far gone now. Rage and fear and misery coated his skin, was the air he breathed, directed every move, every thought.
He cocked his head to one side and flashed Baptiste his fully-descended canines. “Because if she doesn’t help my female and cub, I won’t be able to stop myself from killing her.”
“The voodoun is here?” came the soft hiss. “In the Wildlands?”
“Yes.” Genevieve sat before the elders, her chin lifted, but her insides twisting and turning with dread and grief and desire for the male she’d left back in the bayou. The three ancient, female Pantera, who existed in their puma state, were coated in mist, and sat in the three points of a triangle on the wide, cypress bridge that extended across the calm, moonlit bayou.
“You failed to stop her,” said Wilu. The brown cat’s words were not a question.
Genevieve nodded. “I know.”
“What is your excuse?” Gaya asked, the blue-gray cat’s matching eyes thoughtful.
I was asleep. I was in bed with a male.
I fell in love.
Her shoulders falling, Genevieve shook her head. “I can only claim inexperience.”
The third elder, Tyee, rose to all four paws and started toward Genevieve, her white fur, thick and lush. “Do you wish to rectify your failure, Genevieve?”
“I wish to apologize for it,” she said quickly.
The cat shook her head, her pale blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not enough if your goal is to be one of our students. An elder yourself someday.”
Warring emotions swam in Genevieve’s blood. This was it. Her choice, her decision, and she had nothing but excuses. They wanted her commitment to a cause she believed in wholeheartedly—a cause that could stop the decline of magic both inside her home and out—and she was hesitating. But could she truly give up seeing Jean-Baptiste again? Never being touched by him? Kissed by him? Even the idea, the thought, damaged her heart.
She was weak.
“It’s no loss, Genevieve,” Gaya said pleasantly. “Just as your mother before you, it seems that you may not be suited for such an honor.”
The words had not been meant to bruise. The elders only spoke in facts, truths, hard as they might be to face. But Genevieve winced all the same.
“I don’t believe that,” she said, her chin lifting.
“Your passion is elsewhere,” Wilu said, her bright yellow eyes clinging to Genevieve. “As is your focus. Perhaps you wish to find a mate.”
“No,” Genevieve said, shaking her head, even as her brain screamed, I already have!
Tyee stopped before her, leaned in and touched her black nose to Genevieve’s hand. “Perhaps the magic inside your home wanes because your belief in the elders wanes.”
Her heart lurched. “Never!”
The white puma dropped her head. “You have disappointed us, Genevieve Burel.”
“Wait—”
“You are released.”
Before Genevieve could say another word, all three elders vanished from the bridge, leaving only a thick mist curling above the bayou.
“You can forget my shop exists. No more ink. No more metal. I don’t care if your cat chews your dick off, understand?”
Standing in the middle of the lab, a six foot, black-haired linebacker of a Hunter guarding her back, Isi glared at Jean-Baptiste. Arms crossed over her chest, blue-streaked hair wild around her face, the woman looked ready to murder him, and he didn’t blame her one bit.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She flipped him off. “Don’t pretend you give a shit.”
He shook his head. “Not pretending. I do care. I just care more about the survival of my species. And this woman who carries the first Pantera cub in fifty years is being threatened by something. From the inside out, Isi. I swear to god, I wouldn’t have gone to these lengths, been a complete asshole, if it weren’t dire.”
“You had no right to do what you did, Baptiste,” she said. “I don’t owe you or them anything.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
Her teeth ground together. “But…”
“But, shit, Isi. It’s a baby.”
She stared at him for several long seconds, then slowly started to shake her head. “I don’t know what you think I can do for her.”
“Just take a look, see what you think.” He walked toward her.
“Do I even have a choice here?”
“Course you do.”
“Don’t try to play nice now, Baptiste,” she warned as he approached. “I’m not forgiving you.”
Jean-Baptiste grinned. He’d always enjoyed their almost sibling-like banter. “No forgiveness,” he said, reaching out and pushing down a patch of her wild hair that was sticking straight up. “But maybe if I need the ink or metal again…”
She slapped his hand away. “I told you. Hell. No.”
“Come on, Isi. You know you find it fascinating—”