Lance shrugged his shoulders. For all they knew, Alexander wasn't an omega at all, or there was some form of shapeshifter-proof birth protection. "The point is, my love, how do we know it wasn't him? It's not like it's very easy to find out information about other shifters when we're all forced to live in secret."
"He sent us a picture of himself, remember?"
"He could have sent any random picture he found on the internet of any random person and leopard," Lance said gently. Albus just looked down at his feet, quite obviously disappointed and distressed. He couldn't stand it any longer and reached out to wrap his mate up in his arms to comfort him. "It's okay. We will find another one."
"Maybe we can find him?"
Lance pulled back to stare at him. "What would we want to do that for? And how?"
"You saw his fur! He was strawberry-colored."
"Rare, yes. But how on earth are you going to go about locating every single strawberry leopard in existence to find this particular one, sweet? These sort of things are not documented."
"But if he turns out to be pregnant, he could be running around with a Cassian child!"
"Or he could be running around with the child of a former football player," Lance said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes because that would really not be a nice thing to do to his upset husband. "The point is, we messed up and we will be more careful next time, won't we?"
Albus still didn't look very happy but he tilted his head, conceding the point. "Fine. Whatever you say. But I can't start looking around tonight. I'm too tired and there is a meeting very early tomorrow morning that we cannot be late for."
"Yes, I know." Lance kissed his love's sweet lips. "You go ahead and get some rest. I'll follow you as soon as I'm done in here."
"I love you, Lance."
"I love you, Alby."
When the door was shut behind his love, Lance slumped back down in his groaning chair and put his head in his hands, sighing. Now that he was alone, he let his own disappointment rise to the surface; he hadn't wanted to be so open with it because Albus was sensitive enough to accidentally feed off of other people's misery, but now he let it swamp over him in waves. His tears burned, and he might have been prepared to share one or two when suddenly, his computer gave a small notification sound.
What was that?
Probably just some more spam but he needed to wake up his computer in order to shut it down so that he could go to bed and comfort his mate with the presence of his body, so he might as well check it anyway. If there was anything he couldn't stand, it was for even one facet of his life to be messy.
As luck would have it, the email was a business. Lance knew that the moment he opened it because everything was blank but for the body of the email. There was no subject, no return email address, no signature, only a handful of words.
"I am seeking someone to eliminate a thief. He is a very well-known entity who steals from many organizations, as well as what happens to strike his fancy."
Intrigued, Lance forgot all about going to bed and opened up a new email to reply. "Provide me with more information," he typed, with some difficulty as his fingers were larger than the keys on the keyboard.
Another email came back almost as soon as he'd sent the other one, which meant this was either automated or someone had all their answers at the ready. Either one was an attractive option. They spoke of professionalism or at least some degree of preparedness.
"His name is unknown. He is a shapeshifter, breed, and coloration currently unknown by us. However, we have bribed another organization and they are willing to help us set up a trap for him at half of our total expense. The other half shall go to you. You would be there on the planned day and time, and apprehend him –with force, if necessary."
Sitting back in his chair, Lance thought about this some. Not knowing the breed was a pretty big risk. That meant he could be going up against any sort of bigger or smaller animal, anything from the peaceful little rabbits all the way to the endangered rhinoceroses. And such operations that were on a grand scale tended to get pretty messy and had a tendency to fail, as opposed to those that were formed in private.
"Let me think on this," he replied. "I will report back to you posthaste tomorrow."
Before another reply could come in, he shut the computer down and then went to go get ready for bed.
Two weeks and five hits later found him in Montana of all places. Montana! There was practically no human life anywhere in this state of rolling mountains and lush meadow, so at first, he couldn't fathom why he has being sent here. There were no upscale museums or art galleries anywhere in the area, so all his research had failed; more to the point, the client had been rather cagey about what exactly he was being sent to lift, but the pay was outstanding and there was only him and the other person involved.
If this was a set-up, it was going to be a very elaborate one and he couldn't imagine any average person going through such an ordeal just in the attempts to trick him.
Average or not, Matias was curious to find out who he would be working for and exactly what they were going to want from him.
The rest of his hits lately had all been small-time. Two wedding rings, a "stolen" painting that the client wanted to be returned, a pet rabbit in a cage –but a rare breed- and last, but certainly not least, a car abducted straight from the garage of the owner. Naturally, that last one had been the most thrilling and he was hoping to top that.
Sitting in the train as it crossed the state border, his phone buzzed in his pants pocket. Answering it, he noticed with some happiness that the handsome payoff from that spontaneous sex gig had finally reached his offshore account in Cuba. Over one whole grand for less than an hour! It was the biggest payout ratio he'd ever gotten, and he was starting to wonder if he was in the wrong business!
Well, perhaps that wasn't quite true but it certainly gave him a fresh appreciation for prostitutes. And actually, even if it didn't make him question his life choices, he still found himself thinking about it quite a lot. Such fun and even that Lance fellow hadn't been all that bad as far as his attitude. And maybe a bit of fun had been exactly what he needed because he was coming out of his funk –even if his accounts weren't really going to reflect it, he'd finished each job that came his way with equal, renewed gusto the likes of which his spirits hadn't seen in ages.
So, note to self, have sex every now and again.
He couldn't help but giggle, covering his mouth with his hand so that the girlish sound wouldn't travel too far. And as he took his hand away again, he noticed how hungry he was. It seemed like he was always hungry lately but perhaps his new appetite was just going to be part of this burst of energy; if that was the case, he was going to fuel it for as long as possible.
Setting his hunger to the side, Matias cuddled up on the chair at the train's window and slept for the next two hours, until a steward passing by shook his shoulder to wake him.
Fear shot through his body and he lashed out, letting out a sharp yelp.
"Sorry, sorry!" the man said, leaping backward with his hands up. "I didn't mean to startle you!"
Clearing his throat, Matias struggled to pull himself back from the brink of transformation, giving the other man a tired little smile. "I'm sorry about that. Thank you for waking me up."
"S-sure," the steward stammered and then fled like he'd almost had a leopard at his throat or something.
Stretching all four of his limbs, one after another with luxurious delight, Matias popped all his aching joints and then sauntered down the middle of the row of the aisle so that he could exit through the doors along with everyone else. His stomach, perhaps a little bit round from all the extra food he'd been eating lately, bumped gently along the sides of the seat backs.
His balance was a little off on the way down the train platform steps, but then he was on solid ground again and looked around with wide, appreciative eyes.
It was the sort of scenery he had been treated to quite a lot when browsing t
hrough galleries and private mansions: fierce rugged mountains ribboned with snow, jutting harshly above the valley of some modest little town or city. There were thick clouds in the sapphire sky, echoing the form of the horizon. It being so close to the fine line between day and dusk, the shadows were stretched a bit longer and the tone was a bit more purple.
Beautiful. A feast for his eyes, but it just wasn't going to satisfy the ache in his stomach.
Grabbing his bag a little tighter to his side, Matias headed off down through the little maze of low-lying buildings to find a motel where he could pluck up a room without a reservation. The height of everything amused him. Everything was made of the same material as high-rises but they were long and squat instead of wide like some mountain god had crushed them down so they couldn't compete with his majesty.
As it turned out, the first motel he found was only too happy to rent him a room at full price. Heading inside, he threw his trunk onto the bed, leaped up after it, and then picked up the phone. His very first order of business in Montana was to order a large pizza with barbecued chicken, onions, ham, bacon, and sausage. The impressed –or frightened?- teen boy on the line asked where he was, and he gave them the information.
With a thirty-five minute wait ahead of him, his stomach growling so loudly now that he could practically smell the meats and melted cheese, curled through with the pungent odor of sweet onion, Matias brought out his laptop and booted it up.
First, he reviewed the email sent to him that told him where to go. Eaglecrest, Montana. Check. And that was all. No more information was given.
Clicking to compose a reply, he typed quickly, "I have arrived, staying at the Feather Bed Motel."
A few minutes passed, as he played solitaire to keep his mind off of his nervous excitement. Then, his screen refreshed as the new email came through. It read, "Good. Tomorrow night is when you need to make the hit and tomorrow night only. There is a theater building nearby. Research it. In display above the main stage, there is a mask which is an important heirloom. Lift it. Reply only once you have the mask."
Satisfied, bubbling with fresh excitement as he wondered what kind of mask it would be, Matias was about to turn away from his computer when there came another mail.
"Addendum: knock out the security guard and place him in the third chair from the right, on the fourth row of the auditorium seating."
A message of some sort, or pure whimsy? Matias didn't much know or care.
Turning on the TV, he waited for his pizza until it arrived, and then he ate every single last bite all by himself.
And then he slept, well until noon the next day.
From there, he showered and then sat in bed naked while researching the local theater.
It was called the Pepper Pail, proclaiming a variety of spicy dramas and hot romantic plays. "Exactly the sort of kitschy charm I would be expecting here," he murmured, and then delved deeper. It was fifty years old, boasted two movie auditoriums and one single play stage. Nothing about it was very grand or spectacular, except that it did have the actual mask on display that he was being sent to grab.
It looked like a masked ball costume piece, dazzling blue and black with feather accents. A bit gaudy for his personal tastes, but certainly worth the trouble if it was made with the stones he thought it was.
Another pizza was in order, though he made this one much less hefty. It did not leave him lethargic and only slightly whetted his appetite, but now his instincts would be sharpened by the urge to hunt better to get more to eat –even if his prize was not food. Animal counterpart forms were sometimes a curse, but often a blessing once the shapeshifter figured out how to trick themselves into making everyday tasks easier.
Then, night fell and he went into hunting mode.
Feather Bed was a trusting little motel in a quiet mountain town, so there were no locks or screens on the windows of any kind. Just as he had done at his apartment, Matias slid out the window, transformed into his red-tinged leopard, and took off out across the grass. Cool mountain ruffled the fur on his shoulders, and he lost himself in the simple freedom of running.
It didn't last long, though, because the Pepper Pail was nearby, tucked snuggly near a number of other small business and an apartment building. Slowing down, he tucked his tail in close to his body and lowered his head. Whiskers trembling and mouth opened to scent the air, he pricked up his ears. Every fiber of his being was straining to detect anyone nearby, but there was nothing.
Satisfied, he skulked around to the rear entrance and tested the door. There was a small lockpicking kit in his back pocket, but the moment he touched the door, it just sprang wide open. Surprise buzzing through him, he transformed back into a leopard again and began to silently pad through the darkened interior. His leopard's eyes picked up everything that he wouldn't normally have been able to see, and he slid easily between the booths and arcade machines that lined the main room on his way to the auditorium where the mask was kept.
His guard was down. He should have scented before entering, or taken a moment to listen for breathing or the faint whisking of a back-and-forth tail tip, but he just pushed the door open with his forehead and entered.
A massive shape slammed into his side, knocking him over.
He squalled in panic, flailing out his paws in a panic to batter at the soft underparts of the attackers, but it was no use. His assailant was massive, and his blows were sliding harmlessly off of thick hills of muscle.
Switching tactics, he went utterly limp.
The pressure suddenly released, lunging backward away from him. Dizzy, groaning with pain and panting to try and get his breath back, Matias looked up to find none other than Lance standing over him.
Part of Lance was completely unsurprised, as though he should have seen this coming all along. The pretty little strawberry leopard was a sneak thief and an infamous one. How else could this situation have been any more perfect, if now he could only get answers pulled from this little man?
But, there was bound to be some sort of surveillance system or a guard, and he was loathed to have to get into another confrontation. Despite his sneak attack, and the fact that the little guy had forgotten to unsheathe his claws when attacking, there had been some power behind those frantic blows. He was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow and was already on his way to an ache that would hinder him.
"Change back," he hissed demandingly. "Change back right now."
The little leopard stared up at him, its mouth open in a frozen snarl and its ears pulled back flat against its head. Angry now, frustrated and confused by this turn of events, Lance threw his hands into the air. "We don't really have time for this. You're changing, or I'm making you change."
The leopard's dark eyes flashed wide open, the ringlet of silver behind the iris pulsing with fear. And it cringed away from him, rapidly melded back into a little Hispanic man with his arms flung up for protection. "Okay, okay!" he cried out. "Geez, don't hurt me, okay? I changed! Are you happy now, Lance?"
"Do you really need me to answer that?" he snarled. "What are you doing? Stand the fuck up!"
Matias stood, and Lance lunged out to grab onto his wrist, clamping his fingers down as tight as he could. He was rewarded with a sharp grunt of pain in response, and then he leaned forward to hiss, "Listen here, you little thief. Listen well, because this could damn well be one of the last things you hear. You have caused my mate anguish, and you have done many bad things which cannot be forgiven."
"And I suppose you haven't?" Matias suddenly spat back, surprising him. "Look at you here. You're obviously more than just an ordinary bodyguard. So I will counter your accusations with a taunt of my own and say that neither of us is innocent here. So, who hired you and how did they know I would be here tonight? What does this mask mean?"
Lance let out a bitter laugh. He didn't owe this little guy any explanation. Yet, the words came out anyway. "Yeah, you were sold out. This job? It was legit until your friend got paid off to turn you
into some people who want you pretty damn badly. Actually, who doesn't want to rip a chunk out of you?" He squared his shoulders, struggling to hold back the leopard in himself. "Including me."
He so very badly wanted to rip into this thief, to rake his claws over his body to give him something to remember him by, to bite his neck and drink his blood, to end him for all the pain he had caused his precious mate…but for some reason, he just couldn't do it and that was only serving to make him just that much angrier.
"So, you're coming with me, now."
"Actually," a new voice said, "he's going to be coming with me."
Damn, Lance swore. He'd been so occupied playing with this fool of a kitten that he'd forgotten to be watching their surroundings. Turning slowly, keeping a hard grip on Matias, he turned to see what he had to deal with now.
There was a woman rising up from between the seats in the fourth row. Her pupils were slitted, and her eyes were cold red.
Viper. Has this idiot messed with the snakes?
The viper gangs were ruthless and bloodthirsty, with most of their power amassed in money gained through black market affairs and drug trade. That meant this thief had dealt in drugs and arms before, which were typically human-only illegal activities. How stupid was he, to break not only shifter laws but human ones as well?
"Viper," Lance said, greeting the woman as she continued to slither forward. Her teeth were yellow and pointed. "You know the rules of the hunt. I found him first."
"You would not have found him at all, had I not lured him here."
Ah, there clicked another piece of the puzzle. "You are the one who contacted me, then?"
"Yes. And I will need you to hand him to me now."
Matias let out a soft speak of fear, and Lance could smell it pouring off him in waves. He was completely and utterly terrified, probably close to going out of his mind with it. And then, he noticed there was a different sort of scent. It was not something he had ever smelled before. It was at once musky and sharp, with notes of blood and earth. It was…new.
No, he thought, his eyes widening just a little in the dark as he scanned the small man's body. Had his stomach always been that round? This cannot be. He'll only be fat, is all. It doesn't happen so swiftly, does it?
Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance Page 34