No surname. No name for the pack at all. Leon filed that away. It reeked of cult. But even a cult couldn’t remain completely unaware of power structures in the outside world, of what it meant to be cat-shifter royalty. Could they?
Michael recovered a little too fast for Leon’s liking. “I don’t know where you got this idea about your mate,” he said, his voicecalm now, but with danger coiled beneath it. “You’re the first cat-shifter I’ve ever seen.”
Leon gave a soft, amused laugh—perfectly calculated, amiable without warmth. He’d spent years watching the way Luna operated, and it hadn’t been wasted on him.
“Perhaps I should have been clearer. My mate, Karl Griffin, is a wolf.” He allowed a moment to pass. “And yes, I’ve heardallthe cat-and-dog jokes.”
Michael didn’t smile. “What makes you think he’s here?”
“I followed his trail.”
The flash of fury in Michael’s eyes was fast but telling. Not aimed at Leon. At his own pack, probably, for leaving a trail in the first place.
Leon didn’t wait for the invitation. “We’re grateful for your care. Will you take me to him now?”
Michael’s voice was soft, but there was steel underneath. “You said ‘we.’ Are there more of you?”
Leon smiled. “None that have yet infiltrated your perimeter the way I did.”
Michael heard the threat, hopefully without realizing how empty it was. He studied Leon for a long moment. It was all Leon could do not to tuck his hair behind his ear to underline his perfection, but that might look like nerves.
“He’s in Cormack’s house,” Michael said at last. “Ruth, take our guest.”
A short, slender woman in her fifties stepped forward. “This way.”
Leon followed. The moment Michael was behind him, the weight of the eyes on his back became a physical thing, curiosity, hostility, and fear. It was difficult to keep relaxed, not to glance back at him.
All of that dropped away the second Ruth opened the door. The stench of sickness hit him like a punch.
Leon pushed past her, no longer playing a part. He crossed the room in seconds and dropped to his knees beside the bed.
“Karl,” he breathed.
He was burning up. Sweat slicked his skin, and his face was twisted in restless pain. He didn’t respond when Leon touched his shoulder, and that gutted Leon, because that wasn’tKarl.
He should have known. That rising color in Karl’s face, the way he’d held himself tighter as the hours passed. Leon had seen it, and he hadn’t understood. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t fuckingstayedwith him.
“How the hell did this happen so fast?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Fever’s how the body fights infection,” Ruth said grimly, checking Karl’s pulse. “His healing's kicked it into overdrive.”
“So you’re telling me this is good?” Leon shot back, low and sharp. It neither looked nor smelled good.
“It’s not good,” she admitted. “Not when it gets this bad.”
“Thenhelp him.” The words came out too loud. Karl shifted, muttering something, and Leon bit his tongue. “Please,” he said more softly.
“I need to check something first.”
She turned and walked out.
Leon stared after her, fury surging so fiercely that his hands shook with it. He knew exactly what she was going to do—ask Michael if the orders had changed. If this stranger was still marked for death, or if he could be saved now that someone important had shown up asking after him.
He sat beside Karl and pressed his forehead to his temple, hand curved around Karl’s arm, anchoring him.
“I’m here,” he murmured. “You’re not alone.”
And this time? He wasn’t leaving.
