Bayon/Jean-Baptiste (Bayou Heat) by Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright

just shook his head.
    Damned stubborn shifter. It seemed to be a personality flaw all Pantera males suffered from. “You won’t be able to remain in your human form the entire pregnancy without losing it.”
    “You don’t understand.” The words were curt, and flung at Baptiste like they were coated in alligator dung.
    Jean-Baptiste didn’t have a female—and it was looking more and more like he never would—but he knew how puma males were when something was wrong with their mate. The levels of crazy ranged from “manageable” to “batshit.” But for Raphael, and what he was dealing with, it might very well be “rocket ship to the moon” time. His mate, Ashe, carried the fate of the Pantera within her womb, and if she had truly been attacked inside the Wildlands as Bayon had claimed…
    A low growl erupted from Jean-Baptiste’s throat, but he shut it down instantly. The last thing he needed right now was to allow his cat even one claw out of its cage. Even if it was to sniff out the bastard who’d had the balls to touch a Pantera’s pregnant mate on Wildlands soil. But the fantasy of catching and carving a long and deep “ P ” across the intruder’s chest was the kind of revenge Baptiste and his cat were hungry for.
    “Bayon tell you what I want?” Raphael asked, his voice stripped of emotion as a breeze kicked up off the bayou, rustling the Spanish moss coating the Cypress.
    Baptiste nodded. “Wish I could help.”
    “You can.”
    “Sorry, mon ami .” I’ve got problems of my own to deal with .
    “This isn’t a request, Baptiste.”
    “Maybe you’re forgetting, Raphael, I’m not Diplomatic Faction.”
    “I don’t forget. Anything.”
    “Then you know I don’t report to you.”
    “True.” Raphael stopped pacing and turned to glare at Jean-Baptiste. “But what I’m proposing isn’t exactly official Pantera business.”
    Baptiste’s brows shot together, and the skin on his neck, where he’d gotten inked a few days ago, started to burn.
    “In fact,” Raphael said, his voice dropping as his gaze checked right and left for Pantera in the area. “I don’t think either one of us would want it to be.”
    The urge to spring at the male, drop his frail-looking ass to the ground, ripped through Jean-Baptiste. But he’d grown used to the feral cat inside of him, and he forced patience into his already sour gut.
    “I know you’ve been dealt a handful here,” he said coolly. “I respect that. Hell, I’m as concerned about what’s happening with Ashe as any Pantera. Maybe even more so. I’m a Nurturer after all.” He heard the bitter note in his own voice. “But I don’t have time to travel—”
    “Why? Because you just got back?”
    A flash of alarm moved through Jean-Baptiste, and he eased away from the window and started toward the male. He never talked with anyone about his personal trips into New Orleans. The fact that the leader of the Suits knew something like this was alarming at best.
    “Was it a new piercing?” Raphael said, standing his ground as the male drew near. “Or did you get inked again?”
    Baptiste’s jaw tensed. Play it off, Shifter. Don’t let him see one shred of your unease . “Didn’t know there was a problem with a puma who appreciates body art,” he said with a casual shrug.
    “Not the art. But…maybe the reason behind it?” Raphael’s nostrils flared, and once again he checked to see if they had an audience. When he found the lawn behind Medical deserted, he turned back to Jean-Baptiste, his voice low. “I know about your little problem.”
    Nostrils flared, Baptiste stopped a foot from the Suit. Inside his body, his cat screamed and clawed to get out. It wanted to attack. It wanted to rip the voice box from the male standing before it with all kinds of accusations swimming in his green eyes. But the only thing Jean-Baptiste allowed the feline to display was a cool, confused purr. “No clue what you’re talking about, mon ami