“You’re joking, right?” Samson asked. “There is no way in hell that Sinclair is a hyena shifter.”
“There’s no fucking way,” Stryker snapped. “We would have smelled it.”
“Sinclair was adopted and raised by humans, a very conservative set of humans who taught him that anything having to do with the shifter world was sinful. All shifters were abominations, a plague of demons. When puberty hit and he figured out he could shift, he knew they could never find out. He learned to suppress his scent so his parents would never learn of what he was.”
Stryker’s eyebrows were raised high on his head. “He can really do that?”
I nodded.
“Shit!” The man pulled his hand down his face. “Do you think he could teach us to do it?”
My jaw dropped. “You’re not freaked out that Sinclair is a hyena?”
They had been a moment ago.
Stryker shrugged. “It’s Sinclair.”
“Besides,” Shade said. “He’s your mate, and mate trumps everything.”
I wasn’t sure that still applied if said mate wasn’t claimed, but I’d take it. Anything to keep Sinclair from harm.
Bob raised one hand into the air. “Can I ask a question?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“What happened to his parents? Does he still see them?”
“Sinclair’s parents were killed in a car accident when he was seventeen.”
Crap.
Bob’s eyes were flooding with tears.
Shade was going to kill me.
“While I know there was some sadness when they died, Sinclair didn’t have parents like yours, Bob. They weren’t very nice people. Not only did they hate shifters, but they hated homosexuals, people with different skin colors or religions, even people who had different political views. They pretty much hated everyone.”
“But still.” Shade’s arm went around his mate when Bob sniffled. “They were his parents.”
“Baby, why don’t you go call your mom?”
Bob turned to look up at Shade. “Do you think I should? It’s kind of late.”
“I do.” Shade nodded.” I think it will make you feel better and you know your mom always likes to hear from you, no matter what time it is, day or night.”
“Okay.” Bob put Mustachio in Shade’s lap, leaned in for a kiss, and then walked out of the room.
I chuckled when Shade growled down at the Maine Coon until the cat settled down in his lap. “Still jockeying for top kitty?”
Shade glanced up, but his hand started moving over the cat, gently petting him. “This damn cat doesn’t seem to understand he’s lower on the food chain than me.”
“Oh yeah, I can see that.” I snickered. “Explains why he’s shedding all over you.”
Shade’s eyes rolled.
He didn’t stop petting the cat.
As much as he liked to deny it, I was pretty sure Shade had a soft spot for Mustachio. I didn’t like the mangy little thing. It had scratched me the last time I tried to pick him up. I wasn’t a cat person.
