Something akin to jealousy fired to life in Shiloh, and he cursed under his breath. What the hellfire? Even though he was aware of the weirdness, his unusual behavior, he couldn’t stop himself from moving closer to Lynx to exert ownership. Near enough for their shoulders to touch again and to send a message to the woman.
Lynx was his.
The woman stroked the calibore even as she narrowed her gaze. She lifted her head and sniffed the air, leaned a bit closer and sniffed again. “Steady, boys. I’m not going to interfere in your mating. Leave me alone, and I won’t bother either of you.”
“What the phrull are you talking about?” An itch gathered momentum on Shiloh’s chest, and he slipped his hand beneath his tunic to scratch.
“Take off your shirts,” the woman ordered.
“Why, sweetheart? Are you trying to work out which one of us you’d prefer?” Lynx’s smirk was predatory, the grin of a charmer, a feline who knew how to seduce a woman. Shiloh clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
“Just do it, and I’ll answer your questions.” She stepped back, still stroking the calibore. The creature let out a drowsy purr.
Shiloh glanced at Lynx then shrugged. He lifted his tunic over his head, the wash of cool air strangely soothing. Beside him, Lynx whipped off his tunic, and Shiloh gaped at the wealth of black bruise-like splotches decorating his pectoral muscles and belly.
“What’s wrong with your chest?” Lynx asked, staring in return.
Shiloh glanced down to see the weird black splotches on his chest, the same patches marking Lynx.
“Turn around.” The woman had a weird tone in her voice. “Ah! You have the marks on your backs too. Well, and here I thought incarceration would bore me. Seems as if things are about to get interesting.”
Chapter Three
“What the hell are you talking about?” Lynx demanded.
Shiloh frowned at the amusement in her gray eyes. She knew something. “What’s your name?”
“Jannike Hondros, second-in-command on the Indefatigable.”
“Shiloh Tetsu. Lynx Leandros.” Shiloh gestured at the prince, his words abrupt and decisive as blaster shots. “The rash. What’s so funny?”
“You’re feline shifters.” Her brows lowered and she pursed her lips—flower pink, Shiloh thought. The pale sort his mother favored and placed in vases around their apartments in the castle. “Don’t you know what the marks mean?”
“No,” Lynx said. “What are they?”
Shiloh shot a glance at the nearby cells, scanned for guards and lowered his voice. “How do you know we’re shifters?”
“Superior brain power.”
No mistaking her words for anything but smug. Anger flashed through him, a searing heat. He stepped into her space. Instead of retreating, she met him halfway, her jaw lifting in determination. Between them, the calibore chattered uneasily. Meantime, they stared at each other, neither backing off.
“Knock it off.” Lynx grasped his arm and yanked him away. “Tell us what the marks mean. Please.”
Her anger dispersed, revealing incredulity. “Goddess, you don’t know. I’ve seen the cat tattoos on your right biceps.”
“Yeah, we have tattoos.” Shiloh glanced at his arm, expecting to see the familiar inky-black tattoo he’d borne since he hit rotation twelve. “What the hell?” He checked Lynx’s tattoo. It had faded and lost vibrancy in the same way as his.
Beside him Lynx cursed, his eyes bulging in a double take. “Tell us.”
“You’re in the beginning stages of mating.” Her blunt words toppled Shiloh into an adrenaline rush. His stomach lurched up and down as it did whenever their ship hit turbulent space. He gaped at her, waiting for her to crack a grin. She didn’t.
“What?” Astonishment coated Lynx’s yelp. “You’re lying.”
Shiloh narrowed his gaze on her, scrutinized her closely. They’d fooled around, kissed each other. That was all. Nowhere near full penetration.
“How do you know? You’re not from Viros.” Shiloh kept watching her, his gut telling him she wasn’t intent on mischief. She was telling the truth as she saw it. No, mates were a myth. Arranged marriages were the norm on Viros with benefits accruing to both parties.
But is she lying? his conscience prompted. Don’t you feel something for Lynx? Have the urge to keep him beside you, far, far away from her.
“We were on our way there. My captain was born on Viros and wanted to visit.”
Lynx sent an anxious glance over his shoulder. “Mates don’t exist.”
“Try telling that to my captain and his mate,” Jannike said.
“Who is your captain?” Shiloh demanded.
“Ryman Coppersmith.”
Shiloh caught Lynx’s faint shrug. He’d never heard of the man either.
“We’re both males,” Lynx said. “We’ve known each other since we were kittens. Why hasn’t this happened before?”
Jannike shrugged. “You’re exhibiting all the symptoms. Camryn didn’t want to mate with Ry either. They’re expecting a child now. How long have you been locked up here?”
Shiloh frowned. “We’ve lost track. A while.”
“Maybe it’s your close proximity that has kicked the mating heat into gear.”
“No,” Lynx said, emphatic in his denial.
Shiloh saw Lynx’s feline shift under his skin, felt the same agitation in his own feline, but what she said about them being incarcerated together made sense. It was true that in the past they’d seen each other most cycles. Yet, they’d also spent time apart with friends, other felines, people they dealt with for business. “Careful,” he warned. “We don’t want to attract attention. She might know we’re feline, but they don’t.”
He reached for Lynx, half expecting a punch in return. Instead, Lynx closed the gap between them until their arms touched again. Shiloh sucked in a breath, filling his lungs with their combined scents. Both felines settled, prompting curiosity. He’d never experienced anything like this before. Could the woman be right?
“So you’re saying the splotches signal the start of mating?” Lynx asked.
“Ry and Camryn experienced the same symptoms. Are they itchy?”
“Yes,” Lynx said.
Her slow smile spoke of relief. “At least that makes me safe.”
* * * * *
Famous last words, she decided after what she thought was several cycles or days as she often thought of them after their Earth vacation. It was difficult to gauge the passage of time on board the cargo ship. The guards played with the lighting because of the different species and time blurred together into a lump of boredom. She slept a lot, and she’d wondered if they doctored the food to make them fall into deep slumber. And now this…
Why, oh why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? The prickling sensations that had started as a minor itch had morphed into something much bigger and insidious. Jannike prowled back and forth in front of the cell bars as she tried to ignore the tickle of sensations rioting across her back, over her chest and streaking down her belly to simmer between her thighs. Casually, she stretched, the pull of muscles stilling the irritation for an instant before it sprang to life again. Not good.
None of the feline mating dance made sense. Close quarters. Bad timing on her part. Maybe. Since she only had Ry and Camryn for info, she was running in the dark. Somehow, she’d need to deal with this situation, extricate herself. She scowled at her hand and forced herself not to claw her fingernails into her tingling breast. The two feline males had known each other for rotations. She’d presumed the forced proximity had made the heat commence for them—a guess—but she had no bloody idea why fate thought she should get stuck in the middle of the mess. Ironic, for sure. She marched along the front of their cell.
The animal—a calibore, according to Lynx and Shiloh—clung to her the entire time, appearing to take comfort from her body heat. The calibore never liked to leave her for long, although he tolerated the two felines for short periods. The
guards terrified him, and he usually hid in her bedding or pressed his face against her chest.
Another one of those annoying itches had her scratching vigorously.
Bloody, bloody, damn. The commencement of mating heat was the least of her problems.
Manx Two. They’d been galaxies away from Manx Two, but now it appeared she was heading back to the planet of her birth, and wasn’t that a kick in the arse?
She shot a glance at the two felines, lying on their pallets at the rear of the cell. Two beefy guards ambled past and peered through the bars at them during food distribution. One pushed a trolley with a creaky wheel.
“Why they ignore female?” one asked. He was a pale lilac color with white eyes that gave her the creeps. It was like staring into a pool empty of emotions.
“Maybe different species,” the other guard said, disinterest threading through his guttural words.
The two guards unloaded food at their feeding station and moved on, their trolley still squeaking a protest as they wheeled to the next cell.
Jannike glanced at her cellmates. Shiloh and Lynx were touching, running hands over each other, and a tiny voice at the back of her head wished she were in the middle to create a pile of bodies and questing hands.
A harsh breath whooshed in and out, her chest rising and falling with the force of the action. No!
Not gonna happen.
She’d keep away from the two felines. At least the longing wasn’t crippling as it had been for Ry. He’d been unable to function when the need hit bad, not until Camryn joined the Indy. Copious amounts of sex and Mogens’ slumber drugs had helped him.
Maybe it would be all right. She didn’t seem that bad. Yet. The thought wasn’t reassuring. So far, her attraction to them was more of an insidious yearning plus the itchiness that plagued her. Could be her mind playing her. The panic at learning of their destination of Manx Two wasn’t helping.
Forcing herself to ignore Lynx and Shiloh, she stared through the cell bars while stroking her hand over the calibore’s back. He let out a vibration that came close to one of Ry’s purrs while her mind raced.
None of the crew on board the Indy still took the potions Mogens, their seer, used to whip up while Ry was single. Once Ry mated with Camryn, he’d ceased to be a danger to any of them. Heck, she could count on the fingers of one hand the times they’d met others of Ry’s species.
Goddess, she didn’t understand any of this. She should have remained safe since the mating process between the two men had commenced before she’d arrived. Asking questions didn’t help since she knew more about the subject than the two Virosian natives. She gave her head an irritable shake and the calibore ceased his purring to issue an irritated grunt.
“Sorry, fella,” she whispered. “Perhaps I should give you a name.” The creature cocked its head. Its profile was regal and proud. “How about Royal?”
“Come and sit over here with us,” Shiloh said.
“No, that’s not a good idea.” She forced a smart-ass grin. “I don’t want to catch feline cooties.”
The men were both taller, and she didn’t look up to many. Like Ry Coppersmith, they had green eyes and black hair. Lynx had facial hair outlining his mouth and skimming his chin. The beard wasn’t heavy and bushy. Instead, it framed his mouth in a real sexy way and she found herself wanting to test the bristles with her hand. Shiloh’s beard was a little heavier but not unattractive. His physique was bulkier than Lynx’s.
“We won’t bite,” Shiloh promised.
“Speak for yourself,” Lynx said in a sensual purr. “I’d enjoy biting.” The direction of his gaze left her in no doubt of his starting point, and her breasts prickled under his heated attention.
Shiloh growled, low and fierce, jerking Lynx’s attention back to him.
Jannike backed up until the cell doors were at her back. “Easy there. I’m not intending to let either of you bite me. You don’t need to when you can nibble on each other.”
“Steady.” Lynx petted Shiloh’s shoulder in reassurance. “The guards will hear.”
Shiloh grabbed Lynx, holding him firmly against his chest. His throat worked in an audible swallow, and he sucked in hoarse gasps while he fought for control. Long secs later, he’d regained self-discipline and he bowed his head. Jannike noticed he didn’t release Lynx, and when he glanced up his pupils were catlike and glaring in challenge.
“We need to pool resources, make a plan to escape should the opportunity present. We need to work as a team, not bicker with each other,” Jannike said.
“Who made you the voice of reason?” Shiloh’s deep voice held mockery, and it echoed in his gaze. The challenge didn’t shift, and she knew if she weren’t careful, he’d attack. He gave off an air of confidence, that of someone who could handle himself, and she wondered how she’d manage if he pounced.
“Why are you staring at Shiloh?”
Jannike sighed, a heavy gust of air whistling past her lips. Oh shit. As Camryn said, this was gonna be a hell of a ride. “We need a plan.” She squared her shoulders and strode across the cell floor, stopping a few feet from their pallets. “Do the guards stick to a schedule? I haven’t noticed one so far.”
“They come and go at odd times. We think it’s because some of the prisoners require specialty feeding,” Shiloh said.
“Have you seen the other captives?” Jannike had heard noises at all hours, some of them alarming.
Lynx scratched his chest, grimacing when he met her gaze. “The opposite cell. That’s all. You’ve heard the others calling out. Crying.” He scowled. “Sometimes they scream. It’s been like that since our captured.”
“There’s no point trying to escape while we’re on board. There’s nowhere to hide,” Shiloh said.
“You’re right.” Jannike tried to keep her voice businesslike when each cycle her panic escalated. Manx Two. “You said they’re selling us to collectors. We can’t let them split us up. The best place for my friends to free us will be once we arrive. The guards might laugh and joke, but they’re watchful. Overpowering them isn’t an option.”
“I agree,” Shiloh said. “The best thing to do is wait and attempt to plan for contingencies. Neither of us has spent much time on Manx Two. Have you?”
Jannike closed her eyes, battling the trepidation stalking her mind. Oh yeah. She’d been there before.
“Jannike?” Lynx prompted.
She opened her eyes, striving for calm. “I was born on Manx Two.”
“Getting locked up with you might be a good thing. You say you have people who will rescue you, but you come from Manx Two. You have contacts, right?” Shiloh asked.
“Not exactly.” Their association with her might get them killed, unless Ry and the crew managed to get them first.
Shiloh studied her like a specimen. “Spit it out.”
Jannike forced herself to hold his gaze. “I was in jail, charged with murder.”
“Who did you murder?” Lynx asked.
Jannike’s lips twisted at their wary expressions. They were like springs ready to explode if she made a wrong move. Indignant but resigned, she backed up to give them the illusion of safety.
They should fear her expertise. Since leaving Manx Two, she’d made it her mission to learn how to kill and defend herself. She wasn’t the same gullible kid she’d been back then.
“Tell us.” Shiloh edged closer to Lynx and planted himself half a step in front, standing ready to protect his mate.
Jannike had never told anyone, not even Ry, and he was her closest friend. She sighed. Maybe it was right to tell them the truth. Someone should know because she doubted she’d remain alive, not if the widow discovered her presence on Manx Two.
“My family was poor, barely managing to exist with too many mouths to feed. My stepfather took me to the market one day and sold me.” Even now she recalled the determined expression in his face as he’d shunted her into the pens holding those offered for sale. She swallowed, forcing herself to continue. �
��A wealthy merchant purchased me or rather his majordomo did. I worked in the kitchens until the master noticed me. He seduced me with pretty talk. Our affair continued for some time until the mistress discovered us in their bed. Seven cycles later, the master was dead, and I was in jail, accused of his murder.”
“How did you escape?”
“I used my body,” Jannike said, proud of her matter-of-fact voice when she still had nightmares of the experience. “The head jailer took a liking to me.”
Shiloh lost some of his fierceness. “How long were you there?”
“Half a rotation.” This time it was harder to restrain her instinctive shudder. “One hundred and eighty-six days. I mean cycles.”
“Maybe no one will recognize you,” Lynx said.
“They’ll recognize me. I bear the Verena brand on my right shoulder.”
“Maybe they won’t recognize the brand,” Lynx said.
Not a chance, Jannike thought. She was doomed the second she set foot on Manx Two.
“Damn, tell me this itchy sensation fades.” Lynx slipped one hand beneath his tunic and scratched frantically. “It’s driving me crazy.”
“It stops.” Jannike strove to keep her dread contained. At least it should for them. She didn’t know what the outcome would be for her.
“After what?” Shiloh displayed shrewd understanding, taking the leap to the unpleasant.
“After fukking each other stupid,” Jannike replied as she fought the urge to rip off her tunic and let the air drift across her heated limbs. “There doesn’t seem to be any way to resist the heat once it starts.”
Lynx groaned. “It seemed better when Shiloh and I started messing around. Now all I think about is running my hands over him, and letting him do whatever the hell he wants.” He fluttered his eyelashes in Shiloh’s direction and offered a sultry, fuck-me-now smile. “Anytime.”
“Really?” Shiloh’s brows shot upward.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Jannike watched the two communicate and stomped on her flash of envy. It was easier for them. She had death at the widow’s hand in her future. “Go.” She gestured. “I’ll drag my pallet over there to give you privacy. Maybe I can stuff something inside my ears.” She sent a sideways glance at Lynx. “You’re very vocal.”
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