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Authors: Holley Trent
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your bike, and I don’t think anyone outside of our glaring would recognize Hannah. The grapevine says she’s not
yet
known by outsiders to be a Cougar.”
Sean cut his gaze to her again. “Built-in spy for the glaring, huh?”
She rolled her eyes and jabbed the pedestrian light button at the street corner.
“Avenger, remember? Call me in the morning when you’re up and moving about. Lola says
Los Impostores
don’t tend to be morning sorts, so you may be able to gather most of your intel early on.”
“Got it.”
Mason disconnected.
Sean and Hannah crossed the street, and as soon as he got his boots on the sidewalk, the phone in his hand buzzed at the incoming text message.
He stopped walking and tried to make sense of the picture on the phone’s screen. Mason had taken a picture of Hank holding open his copy of the Were-cougar handbook,
La Bella Dama, translated by E. Putnum
to a specific page. Sean zoomed in for a better look at what Hank pointed to. Half the book’s pages were devoted to explaining glaring roles. Hank pointed to the century-old picture of
The Avenger
and wore a shit-eating grin.
Another message came in—this time, just text.
Don’t do anything stupid.
At his evident distress, Hannah leaned in and looked down at his phone. “Ugh. Miles scanned that, blew it up, and made a print out of it for me to put on my wall, as soon as I have a wall of my own to put it on. What the hell am I supposed to do with a picture of a lady with a gun who likes burning things down? Elizabeth Putnum obviously had a bias.”
Sean started them walking again. “Or maybe she was feminist. I would have thought you’d like seeing a strong depiction of a woman in a historical text.”
“But why does it have to be so violent?”
“Because
you
are?”
She gave him a swat.
“See?”
“Shut up.”
He laughed in spite of himself.
“I hate you, Sean.”
“It’s good that you can express your feelings so openly. That’s usually the first step toward healing.”
“That sounds like something one of my numerous therapists might have said, but tell me, what in me, exactly, needs healing?”
“Dunno. But with consistent, honest discourse—not only with others, but with yourself—I’m certain you’ll see the light and know peace.”
“Idiot. And whom should I be doing that honest discourse with, assuming I actually have problems I need to concern others with?”
“Your friends seem to like you for some reason.”
Her pace slowed for a moment, and her brow furrowed as she stared at the sidewalk.
That was low.
He couldn’t let that one stand. He might have been something of an obnoxious tease, but he didn’t get any pleasure from hurting people. And certainly not the woman who was supposed to be his mate.
Fix that shit
, the cat in him demanded. He would have done it anyway, though.
“Hannah, I’m sorry.”
She scoffed. “You know what? You’re right. I have no idea why Ellery and Miles like me. That’s why I try to keep my angst to myself. They get enough of it from me without me sharing it on purpose.”
“We’ve all got angst. Some of us are just better at disguising it than others.”
“Really? What’s got
you
so angsty?”
“Oh, you know,” he muttered, “the usual shit.”
Like being the third son born to a couple who’d
obviously
been ready for a girl. Or being the kid with all the hand-me-downs, and to not even be able to complain about it. Being the one no one paid any fucking attention to because by the time he came along, nothing was extraordinary about having another kid.
He knew his parents loved him, sure. But he was just a widget off the assembly line who looked too much like his brothers and who his mother couldn’t even remember the name of half the time.
“It’s right here.” He pointed her to an alleyway recently drenched by rain and crowded by a few illegally parked motorcycles.
She scrunched her nose. “Seriously?”
“I promise, they’re
yet
known by outsiders to be a Cougar.”
Sean cut his gaze to her again. “Built-in spy for the glaring, huh?”
She rolled her eyes and jabbed the pedestrian light button at the street corner.
“Avenger, remember? Call me in the morning when you’re up and moving about. Lola says
Los Impostores
don’t tend to be morning sorts, so you may be able to gather most of your intel early on.”
“Got it.”
Mason disconnected.
Sean and Hannah crossed the street, and as soon as he got his boots on the sidewalk, the phone in his hand buzzed at the incoming text message.
He stopped walking and tried to make sense of the picture on the phone’s screen. Mason had taken a picture of Hank holding open his copy of the Were-cougar handbook,
La Bella Dama, translated by E. Putnum
to a specific page. Sean zoomed in for a better look at what Hank pointed to. Half the book’s pages were devoted to explaining glaring roles. Hank pointed to the century-old picture of
The Avenger
and wore a shit-eating grin.
Another message came in—this time, just text.
Don’t do anything stupid.
At his evident distress, Hannah leaned in and looked down at his phone. “Ugh. Miles scanned that, blew it up, and made a print out of it for me to put on my wall, as soon as I have a wall of my own to put it on. What the hell am I supposed to do with a picture of a lady with a gun who likes burning things down? Elizabeth Putnum obviously had a bias.”
Sean started them walking again. “Or maybe she was feminist. I would have thought you’d like seeing a strong depiction of a woman in a historical text.”
“But why does it have to be so violent?”
“Because
you
are?”
She gave him a swat.
“See?”
“Shut up.”
He laughed in spite of himself.
“I hate you, Sean.”
“It’s good that you can express your feelings so openly. That’s usually the first step toward healing.”
“That sounds like something one of my numerous therapists might have said, but tell me, what in me, exactly, needs healing?”
“Dunno. But with consistent, honest discourse—not only with others, but with yourself—I’m certain you’ll see the light and know peace.”
“Idiot. And whom should I be doing that honest discourse with, assuming I actually have problems I need to concern others with?”
“Your friends seem to like you for some reason.”
Her pace slowed for a moment, and her brow furrowed as she stared at the sidewalk.
That was low.
He couldn’t let that one stand. He might have been something of an obnoxious tease, but he didn’t get any pleasure from hurting people. And certainly not the woman who was supposed to be his mate.
Fix that shit
, the cat in him demanded. He would have done it anyway, though.
“Hannah, I’m sorry.”
She scoffed. “You know what? You’re right. I have no idea why Ellery and Miles like me. That’s why I try to keep my angst to myself. They get enough of it from me without me sharing it on purpose.”
“We’ve all got angst. Some of us are just better at disguising it than others.”
“Really? What’s got
you
so angsty?”
“Oh, you know,” he muttered, “the usual shit.”
Like being the third son born to a couple who’d
obviously
been ready for a girl. Or being the kid with all the hand-me-downs, and to not even be able to complain about it. Being the one no one paid any fucking attention to because by the time he came along, nothing was extraordinary about having another kid.
He knew his parents loved him, sure. But he was just a widget off the assembly line who looked too much like his brothers and who his mother couldn’t even remember the name of half the time.
“It’s right here.” He pointed her to an alleyway recently drenched by rain and crowded by a few illegally parked motorcycles.
She scrunched her nose. “Seriously?”
“I promise, they’re
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