Joy coursed through his veins as he raised his gaze to the sky and silently offered thanks.
She—Ryan—had felt it, too; he was certain of it.
An image of her standing beside her vehicle as she had bid him a good night flashed in his mind. Her big, beautiful, ocean blue eyes had grown large. Her lips had parted in invitation ... Ah, that look! It wrapped around his heart, a lethal snare from which he hoped to never escape.
Unfortunately, it had wrapped around his burning loins, as well.
Though not typically libidinous, the clawing need to reinforce the mating bond through a physical joining was nearly overwhelming. Tiberius had had to employ remarkable restraint over the course of the last several hours. Every object, no matter how mundane, had beckoned with illicit possibilities.
The table in the diner? The perfect height upon which to perch her lovely bottom and feast. The compact sedan she drove would be the ideal prop upon which to drape her delectable body and plunge into her honeyed depths. Even the inauspicious wall behind the club had called to him, inviting visions of her wrapped around his hips while he demonstrated exactly how intense and satisfying sex between mates could be.
Yet, he had done none of those things, nor would he. Not yet. Creating a mutual, lasting partnership with his mate was far more important than relieving the discomfort in his erogenous regions.
While the sweet, subtle perfume of her arousal he had scented as they had parted ways provided welcome assurance that she desired him, it was imperative that she understood the true depth of their connection. Casual sex, as the humans referred to it, was not an option. When they joined, it would be a vow of eternal commitment, and was not to be entered into lightly, but rather done with her voluntary, eager consent and understanding. Anything less was unacceptable.
Before he could make her his forever, he had to first tell her the truth. She was human, and therefore, knew not the existence of his kind, let alone the ways of his people.
That realization emphasized another important point. She did not know what he was.
And that worried him.
Despite their potential, humans were notoriously close-minded when it came to things outside their immediate circle of familiarity. They tended to fear and distrust that which they did not understand. Their innate hubris prevented them from accepting that they were not the only children playing in the intergalactic sandbox. They failed to realize that, in the overall scheme of things, their evolution was still in its nascent stages.
Humans had also proven time and time again to be an intolerant race. Though, from what he could tell, that was based more on circumstance than genetics. Trapped as they were in the confines of their own solar system, they hadn’t even begun to experience the wide and varied wonders the universe had to offer. If they thought physical characteristics like skin color and sexual preferences made people different, he wondered how they would react upon their first encounter with the vaporous puce Erkani of Pfileron!
Eventually, their perceptions would change through a natural progression of growth and discovery, but he didn’t have the luxury of waiting eons. His mate was here now, and he wanted her. The sooner, the better, in his opinion. Still, it had to be done properly.
His destined other, Ryan Winslet, was a female warrior with a strong sense of right and wrong. He could definitely work with that. All he needed to do was convince her that the universe had created each of them with the other in mind.
And if that didn’t work, well, no one would miss a few restraints from the special playrooms on the second floor ...
“Are you whistling?” Quintus breezed into Tiberius’s private office and sank down into one of the custom leather chairs.
“I suppose I am at that,” Tiberius replied, glancing up at his friend who looked slightly worse for wear. Quintus’s shaggy hair was even messier than usual, his shirt improperly buttoned. “What happened to you?”
“A fiery redhead with a passion to match my own.” Quintus grinned unrepentantly. “Insatiable and absolutely fearless. She might even be kinkier than I am.” He waved his hand. “But enough of that. To what can we attribute this sudden cheer? Have you finally partaken of the spoils?”
“In a matter of speaking,” Tiberius replied. “Quintus, I have found my mate!”
Quintus’s expression tightened. In an instant, the amiable rake was gone and the fierce protector had returned. “That seems rather sudden. When and where did you find this hidden gem?”
“Last night, in the bar, talking to you!”
His brows drew together. “Me?”
“Yes! I decided to take your advice and went down to the public level to partake of some refreshment and observe. I heard her speaking to you; warning you off, no less.”
“The redhead’s friend?” Quintus said, his frown deepening.
“I believe so, yes. She was threatening you.” The very idea delighted him.
When Quintus said nothing, Tiberius sat back, realizing that Quintus was not as thrilled with the news as he had hoped.
“Perhaps you do not comprehend what I am saying, brother. I have found my mate.”
“I heard you correctly the first time.”
“Yet, you are not pleased.”
“Let us just say that I am ... concerned. Yesterday, you sat in this very office, lamenting the improbability of finding a life mate here on Earth, and last night, one suddenly and conveniently appears? It seems rather incredible, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do, which is precisely why I am in such high spirits. May I remind you that you are the one who spoke of my ancient ancestor and how he had found his mate? Do you now question your own counsel?”
“I question anything that has the potential to influence you so thoroughly. Your benevolence is legendary. You tend to see only the good in people. You must agree that there are those who recognize that and seek to exploit it for their own gain. That is, after all, the reason we find ourselves here.”
The heavy mantle of guilt resettled upon Tiberius’s shoulders, the same guilt he had been carrying around since their arrival a year ago. In fact, the only time he had felt some measure of relief had been in those few hours he had spent in the company of Ryan Winslet.
Quintus’s softly spoken words were a timely, if unwelcome, reminder that things were not always what they seemed. Tiberius had been fooled before, badly. Under the guise of creating an alliance, the stunningly beautiful Celusian princess had employed black magic to convince him that they were mates. Falling prey to her trickery had nearly destroyed the royal family and would have been disastrous for his peaceful people.
Given past events, Quintus’s cynicism was understandable and even warranted, but Tiberius had difficulty in putting Ryan in the same category as the deceitful, conniving Celusian.
“Point taken,” Tiberius conceded. “But the Celusians were motivated by greed and a thirst for power. What could one small, female mortal hope to gain?”
“Bait, for one thing,” Quintus answered without hesitation. “This club may not compare to an entire kingdom, but we do now have a considerable amount of power and influence in the greater Golden Beach area. And, as they have demonstrated time and time again, humans worship money, power, and influence almost as much as the Celusians.”
Tiberius thought of Ryan and shook his head. “Not Ryan.”
“All right then, let us assume for a moment that her motivation is not based in avarice. She is a member of law enforcement.”
“Yes, she readily admitted as much. So?”
“Regardless of personal views and good intentions, much of what occurs beneath our roof is considered illegal by local, state, and federal authorities. Those we consider part of our adopted family are loyal to us and go to great lengths to ensure that we at least appear to operate within the confines of the law. However, rumors abound, especially among those who are ... shall we say, displeased by our strong presence in the Golden Beach community. It would be quite a feather in her c
ap to be the one to expose the truth and shut us down.”
Tiberius sat back and steepled his fingers, considering his friend’s words. “Are you suggesting that Ryan and her friend intentionally entered Bait for such a purpose?”
Quintus scowled, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility that the fiery redhead he had spent the night pleasuring might have been part of a clever ruse. “I don’t know,” he said, getting to his feet, “but I will find out. For both our sakes, my prince, I sincerely hope you are right and I am wrong this time.”
Chapter Eleven
When the alarm went off, Ryan hit the snooze button twice before hauling her tired butt out of bed. She hadn’t had nearly enough sleep, though she couldn’t regret her late night out. Spending time with Tiberius had been worth every yawn and grumble.
In the stark light of day, however, she couldn’t help wondering if that expensive drink she’d downed had colored her perception somewhat. Tiberius had been smart, funny, and gallant, not to mention handsome as sin. He just seemed too good to be true, and as her life experiences had often proven, things that seemed too good to be true often were.
No man had ever checked as many items off her “perfect guy” list as he had without having at least a few ticks in the “asshole” column, too. There had to be a catch. The question was: did she want to find out what that catch was? Or was it better to just live with the dream?
She opted for the latter.
For a little while, Tiberius had done something amazing. He had made her feel interesting and desirable. Why ruin the illusion?
Sure, he had said he wanted to see her again, but despite her penchant for paranormals and happily ever afters, she was essentially a realist. Chances were, their paths wouldn’t cross again. She had no intention of returning to Bait, and she definitely was not going to be one of those women who checked her phone every five minutes, making sure the thing was on. If he called, great. If not, well, c’est la vie.
Now all she had to do was convince herself she wouldn’t be disappointed if that happened.
Ryan dried her face with the soft terry towel then scowled at herself in the mirror. She was a thirty-two-year-old police detective. Was she actually crushing on a guy after a decent conversation, a slice of pie, and a knuckle brushing kiss?
She was at a loss to explain why he had even approached her in the first place, though it probably had something to do with the way she had looked. Fully made up and decked out in a sexy dress and killer shoes, she had looked pretty good. The problem was that wasn’t the real Ryan. She wasn’t sexy or glamorous or fashionable. She had tried to tell him that, but whether or not he believed her, she didn’t know.
“Gah!” She brushed her hair and yanked it into a ponytail. A fresh face stared back in the mirror, devoid of all the glitz and glam Betty had so painstakingly applied. Gone was the curve-hugging sheath dress, replaced by no-wrinkle pants, a simple blouse, and sensible shoes. What would her perfect Prince Charming think of her now?
Foregoing breakfast, she chugged a cup of coffee and grabbed a protein bar on her way out the door. Betty’s bakery was in the opposite direction from the precinct, and Ryan wanted to make sure she had enough time to do a drive-by. Though they had exchanged the obligatory “home safe” texts around dawn, Ryan felt compelled to double-check.
Betty said she worried too much, but in Betty’s case, Ryan wasn’t sure she worried enough.
As she cruised by, she was pleased to see the lights on, a good crowd, and the flash of bright red hair bopping around behind the counter. Satisfied that all was well, Ryan continued, her gaze landing on the now quiet Bait and her thoughts moving back to Tiberius.
Where was he now? Was he a morning person? How did he spend his days? Was he thinking about her like she was thinking about him?
“Enough!” she chastised herself when she pulled into her spot behind the station. She had a job to do, and hopefully, today’s cases wouldn’t include nude videos of senior citizens twerking or instances of small-time drug dealers being dropped off in fishing nets filled with crabs.
By the time lunch rolled around, Ryan was rethinking her earlier wish and hoping that something, anything interesting would happen. She rubbed her eyes, bleary from lack of sleep and the two hundred-plus pages of complaints concerning one Alfred P. Carmichael.
Mr. Carmichael, age fifty-four, lived with his eighty-two-year-old mother and was convinced that everyone in his neighborhood was spying on him. He had taken it upon himself to hide in the bushes near his home at all hours of the day and night to “obtain proof of the conspiracy.” Among the complainants were his own aunts, who had lived in the house next door since 1962 and said they were sick and tired of being ambushed every time they tried to leave the house.
When her phone rang, Ryan didn’t hesitate. “Detective Winslet.”
“Hey, girlfriend, you busy?”
Ryan smiled into the phone when she heard Betty’s voice. “Not even a little. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to say thanks and sorry-not-sorry.”
Ryan sat back in her chair. “Okay. For what?”
“The thanks is for going out with me last night. I know clubbing is outside your comfort zone, and I appreciate that you’d do that for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“The sorry-not-sorry is for abandoning you. I feel kind of bad about that, but it was so worth the guilt I’m feeling right now.”
“I take it that means you had a good time?”
“Girl, I can’t even. I swear, that man was put on this Earth just to butter my buns, you know what I’m saying?”
Ryan laughed, buoyed by Betty’s high spirits.
“I never realized I was an exhibitionist, but apparently I am. And you would not believe what they have in those private rooms on the second floor—”
“La la la la la, I can’t hear you, Betty,” Ryan sang into the phone. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”
“Right, I forgot how anal you are about that stuff. Oh, and speaking of, did you know that they make these special vibrating—”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Fine! Be that way. I’m going to leave Rosie in charge and crash for a couple hours anyway. I’ll call you later and share all the kinky deets.”
“Please don’t.”
Still laughing, Ryan hung up the phone when the captain poked his head out of his office and barked, “Winslet! In my office.”
The appearance of her direct superior and his perpetual scowl put an immediate end to her laughter. For a moment, Ryan wondered if the captain had somehow overheard some of her conversation with Betty. Then she realized it was just a case of poor timing. The man always looked pissed off.
She closed the files she’d been reviewing and put them in her desk before heading over to see what the captain wanted.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?”
He waved her in. “Winslet, come in and close the door.”
Ryan did as he asked.
“Winslet, I wanted to give you a heads-up. We’ve received information that Atsa Nez is coming to town,” Captain Carter started without preamble.
Ryan’s head jerked back in surprise, the name ringing an all too familiar bell.
Atsa Nez, otherwise known by the street name Black Eagle, was the one black mark on her otherwise spotless record. She had been a rookie at the time, fresh out of the academy, but she had never forgotten or forgiven herself for letting him get away.
Nez was the worst of the worst, involved in everything from supplying opiates in the Southeastern region to abducting and smuggling young women as part of a human trafficking ring. He was as slippery and elusive as an eel, and worked through an extensive, complex network of bottom feeders that kept him just under the radar. That was why it was so important to take full advantage of those rare occasions when he did surface, and why her mistake cut so deeply.
“Count me in, Captain. Whatever you need. Nights, weekends—”
“Easy, Winslet. I’m only telling you this because I know you have a history with Nez. The Feds are whipping out their dicks on this one, claiming jurisdiction since Nez’s crimes cross state lines. Not to mention one of the girls they tried to snatch was a US Senator’s daughter vacationing with her college friends in the Keys.”
Ryan frowned. “There must be something we can do. Something I can do.”
Carter leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. “Well, the way I see it, these G-men might think they’re hot shit, but they don’t know the area or have the local contacts we do. If you happen to see or hear anything that might be helpful, bring it to me and I’ll pass it along. But,” he said, pinning her with a stern look, “you are not to interfere in the official investigation unless requested to do so. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, Captain.”
Ryan left her superior’s office, her head swimming. Carter’s words of warning were already fading to a dull white noise in the back of her mind. Why was Atsa Nez coming to Golden Beach? Why now? What was important enough for him to crawl out from whatever rock he was hiding under and make a personal appearance?
Hours later, she still didn’t have any answers, but her instincts told her Nez’s uncharacteristic resurfacing had something to do with the mysterious Shark that Drew had alluded to. If this Shark guy really had muscled in on some of Nez’s territory, then Nez might feel compelled to make a personal appearance to put a stop to it and discourage others from thinking they could do the same. Guys like him relied on fear and intimidation to stay on top, and anyone who presented a credible threat had to be dealt with swiftly and decisively. Cred was everything, and Nez’s was on the line. That meant whatever was going to go down was going to happen soon, and more likely than not, it was going to be big enough to get the message across.
Ryan sat back from her laptop and rubbed her eyes. The lack of sleep was catching up to her, and the dull ache at the back of her skull reminded her that she had forgotten to eat.
She closed her laptop, slipped it into her functional purse/tote, along with some hardcopy files, and stepped out into the dusky evening. First order of business was picking up some takeout on the way home. Then she was going to take a hot shower, slip into some comfy clothes, and eat said takeout while she tried to figure out what she was missing.
Close Encounters of the Sexy Kind: In the Stars Romance Page 6