Excerpt from "Leticia's Lovers" by Shelley Munro

Leticia Huntingdon scrutinized the hair in her brush and knew the FIV or feline immunodeficiency virus was no longer dormant. A healthy feline shifter simply didn't lose this much hair during the grooming process. Fear, stark and frightening, kicked her in the gut and her legs trembled so much she thought she'd fall if she didn't sit. She sank onto the bed, the tremors speeding to her hands as well as her legs.

“Damn,” she whispered.

A glance at her wristwatch confirmed she didn't have much time before someone thumped on her bedroom door. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was socialize at a birthday party, but if she said she didn't want to attend, her brother Lucas and his partner Saul Sinclair would start to worry. And she didn't want that. They'd both been so good to her--Lucas leaving the pride in South Africa to stay with her, and Saul and his leopard-shifter friends accepting her without hesitation.

Her gaze drifted to the tufts of blonde hair clinging to the black bristles of her brush and this time anger bloomed, hot and consuming. It wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair. Her ex-lover, who had given her the disease by raping her and ripping open her shoulder, had never faced justice, his position as a lawyer keeping him safe. His word against hers. She'd thought she'd discovered a home in Middlemarch, yet the disease, the feline equivalent of HIV in humans, would steal that from her.

No cure.

The two words echoed mockingly through her head. Gavin Finley, the local vet and doctor to the shifters, had told her the prognosis was good, that they might not be able to cure the disease but could manage it. According to him, although she had the disease, the symptoms were mild and only exacerbated by stress. So managed it they had, and pretty well. Thanks to Gavin, her health remained good, apart from the latest sign. Not so good. Gavin had mentioned the symptoms to look for and losing hair sat at the top of the list along with weight loss and difficulty breathing. A harsh sigh whooshed up her throat, burning all the way.

AIDS. Such a little word. Such a big disease.

Tears obscured her normally excellent vision, making her reflection waver in the mirror.

A tap sounded on her bedroom door. “Leticia, sweetheart. Are you almost ready? We're going to be late to the party. We still have to drive to Middlemarch.” Saul. Leticia sucked in a deep breath, fighting anxiety and dredging up anger to hide her fear.

“Bite me. Don't you know you always have to wait on women?” she added, dragging the brush through her hair again and forcing humor into her voice despite the terror curling across her face. “Always in a hurry.”

“Sweetheart, I'd love to bite you, but I don't want to upset your brother,” Saul countered smoothly.

Leticia couldn't help the involuntary smirk when she heard a familiar masculine growl in the background. Lucas. It was all a front. Her brother and Saul were crazy about each other. Mates.

Unthinking, she drew the brush through her hair again. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw more loose strands glinting amongst the bristles. Setting it aside, she picked up a comb. It didn't stop the fall of hair. Apprehension lurched through her mind, her recent weight loss taking on a sinister meaning. How could this happen almost overnight? Dammit, she'd followed all of Gavin's instructions, eating properly. Cosseting herself and keeping stress to a minimum. True, things were difficult at work, the pressure of a big case making for long days. She'd thought she was coping.

By the time she finished, her long blonde curls appeared tidier and less. Thin. Too thin. A hat. She'd have to wear a hat. She'd get through tonight and after that…