“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 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.”