It was chemical. Physical. The panther scenting a female that could be a genetic match for him. A female strong enough to carry his offspring.
An angel and a shifter? Insane. The last blend like that had ended up producing his f**ked-up brother Brandt.
But . . .
He wanted Marna. He ached for her. He dreamed of her at night.
He hungered for her.
Mate.
If he took her, the panther would claim her as a mate. Then there’d be no turning back, not for either of them.
He reached the shed he’d built in the middle of his property and found the backup clothes he kept when he needed to run. He yanked up the jeans and jerked on the shirt, covering his scars.
She’d actually kissed a scar on his back. He’d carried the wounds for so long. He didn’t think about them much anymore.
His father had been a sadistic bastard.
I won’t be like him.
Tanner left the shed. He’d taken just a few steps when the scent hit him. Then he realized just what a fatal mistake he’d made.
No, no. He broke into a run as he raced back for the main house.
There was no mistaking the scent in the air—male, human, familiar. This was the last thing he needed. With Marna alone there . . .
Fucking disastrous.
His legs burned as he raced faster, faster—
He could see the house.
And he could see the human who was climbing into his broken window.
What. The. Hell.
“Jonathan!” His voice rang out, sending birds scattering from the nearby trees.
His partner froze, then glanced slowly back over his shoulder. Jonathan’s eyes were narrowed, and he had his gun in his hand.
Tanner hoped the guy didn’t get trigger happy again this time. Tanner lifted his hands, showing he was unarmed. “Easy there, partner.”
Jonathan lowered his weapon. “You’ve had a break-in.”
No. A breakout. The guy should have noticed that the glass had fallen the wrong way. Shoddy investigative work. “No.” Tanner offered him a slightly embarrassed grin. “Just a little accident.” He hoped the man hadn’t called for backup. Talk about having to deal with a pain in his ass.
“Your front door . . . it looked damaged, too.” Jonathan had lowered the gun, but he hadn’t holstered the weapon. Interesting. “That’s why I came around back.”
Tanner shrugged. “I’m doing some home repairs.” He put his hands on his hips. “Sometimes, they don’t go as well as I’d like.” He couldn’t hear anything from inside the house. Good. As long as Marna stayed quiet, they were golden.
But if his angel decided to come out . . .
I don’t want to hurt him.
Too bad he’d spent his life doing things that he didn’t really want to do.
Jonathan gave a low laugh. “Yeah, man, I guess they don’t.” Finally, finally, the guy holstered his weapon. “Look, I came by ’cause we need to talk.” His partner folded his arms over his chest. “I know you think I overreacted—”
Overreacted? The dude needed to try again. “You shot her.” That fact still pissed him off. Tanner kept his hands down. The better not to punch the jerk again. Breaking in a new partner sucked. Especially when the guy was human, and Tanner had to constantly watch his step with the fellow.
“She was a suspected killer,” Jonathan defended himself. “Coming at me with a weapon—”
“A table leg.” The anger broke through his voice. “She had a table leg, not a gun. We could have taken her down without lethal force.”
“Maybe.” Jonathan’s shoulders straightened. “If she’d been human.”
Oh, the f**k, no. The guy knew? With an effort, Tanner kept his face blank.
“Since she wasn’t human, since I’d dealt with her kind before, I knew we’d both be safer if I took the shot.” Jonathan rubbed his jaw. “I figured the punch and a mild concussion were worth saving our asses.”
You didn’t save us. Tanner kept his voice mild, yanking back the anger now. “Uh, partner, I think you might have hit your head harder than anyone thought when you fell. Have you, um, been talking to the department shrink about the non-humans out there?”
Jonathan’s lips tightened. “Her body vanished from the morgue. The doctor who was treating her? He’s vanished, too.”
No, Cody had just headed back to his home in the swamp. He’d done his job and gone back to his life.
“They just misplaced her,” Tanner said, and he strode toward the front of the house. Time to get this guy off his property. “Bodies don’t just vanish. They put the wrong toe tag on her. She’ll turn up.” A story he’d used before. And eventually, “Marna Smith’s” remains would turn up. The ashes they were gonna use for her should be ready any day.