Bad Kitty

by Teresa Noelle Roberts

  “We can save lives here, kitten,” Mik said softly. “There are problems with the setup, sure, and Rahal was as high-handed as you’d expect someone in his position to be about getting us to help out. But it’s still the right thing to do. We’d have said yes one way or the other, but I don’t think he’s used to having people agree to do things without bribes or threats. Wish it weren’t so public, though. That’s going to be a problem.”

  Xia’s wrath scaled back from murderous to merely destructive.

  Rahal was trying to do good here, even if he was doing it mostly to improve the planet’s image for trade reasons. She could understand why he’d want to take advantage of having two actual-factual antislavery heroes owing him a huge favor. Her dads were flamboyant enough, with Mik’s history-flash fashion sense and Gan’s size and tattoos, that they’d make a great media spectacle.

  But it wouldn’t work. Would definitely hinder their sneaky, stealthy way of rescuing people. Might even get them killed, if not here, then somewhere else where their identities would suddenly be known.

  She’d have to give Rahal Mizyar a piece of her mind.

  And maybe an alternative to his plausible but dangerous scheme.

  Without stopping to tell her fathers what she had in mind—they’d just try to stop her anyway—Xia stormed out through a set of absurdly carved and gilded doors, in search of their host.

  As an adult, Xia had never been scared to talk to a handsome man, or anyone else, for that matter. Even when the darkness was eating at her, people of all species fascinated her. Most of them were pleasant and the ones who weren’t were amusing to annoy. Even if a person seemed dull on the surface, a dirtsider living a boring life, there was always something more to learn about the many different species that populated the galaxy, all with their own stories.

  And of course, most people could be persuaded to buy a cute, friendly cat-girl a drink or the local equivalent of ice cream.

  She never wasted time being scared of anyone. Maybe, she suspected now, because she knew deep down she could take down most anyone who tried to harm her, unless they were doing it from a distance with a lasercannon.

  But she was scared of Rahal.

  Not of his power. So what, he was a big deal on this corner of a battered planet, and good at violence, skullduggery and mayhem. That part sounded fun, not to mention inspirational. He might be only slightly less dangerous than a black hole, but he was in control of how much peril he dished out to the people around him.

  She was scared of the way he looked at her, scared of how much he felt like a home she’d never known. Scared of how good he smelled. Scared of how much she desired him, and that had never scared her before. Even though she’d experienced things that could have turned some people off on sex forever, sex had always been easy for her. Playful.

  This didn’t feel playful. This felt like it could be serious as a life-support problem in deep space, serious as a black hole, serious as an assassin in the shadows. Hell, she was used to assassins in the shadows by now, but she couldn’t imagine feeling blasé about Rahal the way she was starting to get about the ongoing threat of Nitari Belesku and her nameless San’balese counterpart.

  It was time to put on her big-girl tail bow and face that fear.

  Because scary or not, hot or not, big flip-de-do warlord or not, Rahal was not going to get away with gambling with her fathers’ lives.

  Not when she could offer better stakes.

  Stakes she’d only thought of as she stormed down the hall.

  Stakes that probably fell into the really-bad-idea category, but she’d always been all about the really good bad ideas.

  Chapter Seven

  Most people knocked. Stars, Rahal intimidated his staff so badly they commed and then knocked if they had to interrupt him. Only the secretary ’bot entered without knocking if he was ignoring the ’bot’s knock, and ’bots didn’t have much sense of self-preservation.

  Xia Suarez threw open the big, gilded double door with a dramatic gesture that no one but an angry female felinoid could do right, and marched on in to his office.

  “How very red and green and gold,” she said without preliminaries. “I’m all for sparkly and colorful, but I’ve been in more tasteful strip clubs. Even strip clubs that were in casinos.”

  He couldn’t help smiling. “Appalling, isn’t it? I inherited it from a syndicate boss whose personal habits were even worse than his decorating skills. And by inherited, I mean I killed his sleazy, double-crossing ass then decided that tacky as it is, this is the biggest, most comfortable building around and I was keeping it for myself. Once I did that, I made it even gaudier. The locals think it’s impressive.”

  She’d come in looking as serious as she could with that charming little face and one adorable white ear, but at that she burst out laughing. “I get impressing the local yokels, but how can you work in here? Don’t you get headaches from the color clash?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “I’m red-green color-blind. It’s still glittery and gilded, but in silver and gold and a few shades of gray for me. And since no one knows about the color blindness, most visitors pretend they love my terrible taste. That’s part of the joke.” He lowered his voice and confided, “Besides, I enjoy bling.”

  “Well, duh. Bling’s fun. But this is twisted. You’re a bad man in a subtle, funny way. I’m glad I grabbed a blue tail bow this morning. Gray isn’t my color, and all my red ones would be gray for you.” She looked almost sorry to admit his cleverness, sorry to be grinning and flirting and cocking her blue-bowed tail in happy amusement, because she’d obviously come in all full of righteous indignation and ready to rip him a few new orifices. “Yeah, you’re a bad man. I like that. I’m still mad at you, though.”

  A small victory. Now on to bigger ones.

  He stood—his desk was at floor level so he could sprawl on cushions as he worked, the way felinoids preferred to sit if there wasn’t an attractive lap to appropriate—and walked over to Xia, putting every bit of slink and seduction he could into the walk. The office was ludicrously big, and since he had to walk down off the raised platform where his desk sat, he had plenty of time to work it.

  He got close enough to Xia that she looked flustered. Felinoids’ concept of personal space was situational and she clearly hadn’t banked on this situation getting intimate yet. Her upbringing might have something to do with it too. Humans liked a little distance with new acquaintances, and Furagis preferred even more, to give you a head start in case something triggered the infamous Furagi temper.

  He wove behind her, put his hands on her hips and whispered into her left ear, the one with the fetching white tip, “You don’t know the half of how bad I am, kitten.”

  For a second, Xia melted, leaning back against him as if her bones had suddenly softened. Her breath quickened. Those small, sure hands wrapped behind him, grabbing his ass. Her claws worked in and out, hard enough he could feel the prickling through his leather pants. Red ones, this time; they were a slightly different shade of gray from the actual gray ones.

  “If you destroy the pants, my valet will scold me,” he said, laughing.

  “You have a valet? An actual valet like in Dad’s history-flash books? That’s both ridiculous and kind of awesome.” Xia’s bones resolidified, and she released his ass. Pity, that. But she stayed leaning against him as if she couldn’t resist the feel of him.

  Why had he put on a shirt today? Foolish decision. If he hadn’t, he’d be able to feel more of her, especially since her nod to wearing clothing was a little halter top in some silky fabric and a tiny little denim wrap skirt. And of course the bow on her tail.

  “Imagine a bodyguard with excellent fashion sense and nasty wit. That’s Hrrar. He’s into the history-flash thing too, so he was the one who started calling himself my valet. People expect me to put on a show. It’s part of the game here, part of why I
’m the warlord and not just another thug who’s clawed his way to the top of the heap. People here have ugly lives, so they appreciate a little color and flash.”

  And at that remark, which he’d thought was pretty innocuous—at least compared to the things going through his mind about the two of them heading to his sumptuous bedroom and getting him out of the silly, showy and currently very confining clothes—Xia whirled away from him, all her anger restored.

  “A show. That’s what this is all about. Your personal full-time history-flash holo. That explains so much.” Her claws were working in and out again, but this time he didn’t think it was caused by desire. Not judging from the way her tail had gone stiff and twitchy, the way her eyes had narrowed to watchful, predatory slits.

  She might be good enough to get the drop on him, he realized, or at least would have been able to if he hadn’t been watching her so closely. He was hard, his cock pounding to be released from the confining leather. Great Cat Mother, he wanted her, wanted her so badly he could taste her on the air. The fact that she looked furious enough to gut him, if anything, made him want her more.

  “You of all people should get that everything’s a game.”

  Xia bared her fangs and hissed. “Some things are too important for you to play with.”

  At that he had to laugh. “The important things make the best toys.”

  She took a step closer. Her ears barely brushed his cheekbones, but she didn’t have any problem reaching his throat and resting one claw on his jugular.

  He didn’t stop her—even that potentially lethal contact with her was exciting—but he suppressed his usual inclination to tease. Stars, he even tried to suppress the urge to breathe. He was bigger and stronger, but she was furious and he was baffled, which might even the playing field. Everything was a game, though, including survival, and the best way to win this particular game was by changing the rules. Diffusing her anger by playing along.

  Otherwise, he’d have to hurt her, which he didn’t want to do, at least in nonfun, nonconsensual ways, or she’d wind up hurting him, which he definitely didn’t want.

  “Stars, Xia, you’re hot,” he said.

  Then he grabbed her wrist, spun her abruptly, swept her feet out from under her. They ended up on the floor with him straddling her and holding her wrists over her head.

  “There. We should be able to talk more comfortably now. At least I’m more comfortable.” That wasn’t quite true. His pants weren’t comfortable due to his cock’s proximity to Xia. If he was going to be this close, his cock roared he should be inside her, fucking away her anger, dispelling the tension in her slight, strong body with pleasure.

  “My fathers’ lives aren’t part of your game,” she said. She seemed calm in the way he’d seen professionals be when someone was about to die, but her eyes were a little too wide and sparkled a little too much. “They have a mission. An important one.”

  “I know.” He didn’t like to be serious, but sometimes it had to happen. “All the more reason to make them legends. I’ve been trying to impress upon the people of Siantana that I’ll tolerate just about anything except abusing children and slavery—the kind that isn’t consenting adults getting kinky, because I’m all for that if everyone involved is having fun or at least willing to play along with someone else’s kink for a reasonable compensation—but I can’t take on all the driftdwells personally. I need heroes that even monsters will fear, let alone the people who are just vicious and opportunistic.”

  He paused, realizing something for the first time. “That’s a weird thing for me to be saying; I’m vicious and opportunistic myself, and according to some people, I’m a monster. But I have limits. Anyway, Mik and Gan would be perfect for the job. Good stories spread faster than laws, especially in a place where people think of laws more as suggestions. Your dads are insanely charismatic. Well, Mik is, and Gan has that brooding Furagi mystery going, which works too. And they’re happy to do it.”

  Xia jerked beneath him. Despite the gravity of the conversation, and despite the fact he knew it was because she wanted to hit him or kick him in the balls, it had an interesting effect on his body.

  “Of course they’re willing. It’s the price for your help, and they’re trying to protect the rest of us from marling assassins, including one sent by your brother Drax’s government. But if they go public, it’ll limit what they can do, how many kids on other worlds they can help. Good stories spread, like you say. Even off-planet. Not to mention it’s like hanging a great big sign out: HEY, ASSASSINS, WE’RE HERE!” She blinked. “Unless that’s part of the plan. Oh, that’s clever. I like that!” She arched up and kissed him, a quick brush of her lips that made the fire inside him rage hotter.

  Despite the temptation, he didn’t grab her and push the kiss, or the issue. Despite everything, he wanted her to keep talking. She’d talked herself around to figuring out his plan might benefit her fathers and the Malcolm’s crew. Now he wanted to see if she could figure out the how and the why.

  “I’m sure you came up with this to help you, not us.”

  “Ultimately to help Siantana, and all Cibari, but that helps me, so yes. And, yeah, because your fathers were nervous about the publicity, I did make it sound like it was a condition of my helping you guys, but think it through. Drax is part of your crew now, and he’s my brother. I’m not about to leave him unprotected, and he’s not going anywhere without Rita, and she’s not going anywhere without the rest of you. It’s in my best interest to keep all of you folks safe.”

  “You figured out if you drew the assassins here, we’d have lots of help because one thing you do well on Cibari is kill people. Win-win. Drax would be safe. By extension, so would the rest of us. And you’d get a start on getting rid of the worst scum in your district to boot. I still don’t like you even pretending to extort my dads, but the rest of the plan’s pretty cosmic.”

  He nodded eagerly. She was intelligent. Evil-tempered, but clever. And he couldn’t hold a little temper against a beautiful woman, especially if she was being vicious to defend her family. “That was the idea. See why your fathers agreed to it?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I have a better idea, though. Use me.”

  How could he resist with a line like that thrown in his face? “I thought you’d never ask.” He ground his hips against her, making sure he was hitting her most sensitive areas. Shifting so he could hold her wrists with one hand—now more for erotic restraint, though the possibility remained she’d try to scratch his eyes out—he slid the other hand under the loose confection of a cropped shirt.

  Her nipple perked up gratifyingly and she arched her spine, rippling to bring both her breasts and her sex closer to his touch. She’d been patient, he realized. She was agile enough she could have struggled a lot more than she had. She sighed and he swallowed the small, enticing sound, covering her mouth with his. She nipped at his tongue with sharp teeth, echoing the way he’d bitten her the day before, and then sucked on it fiercely.

  Xia’s microscopic skirt had worked up. It didn’t take much effort on his part to scoot it up even farther. She was bare underneath, except for a neat triangle of tawny fur, and even through the leather he felt her heat. When he slid his hand down her slim body and reached between her legs, she was wet and ready, as if the snarling at each other, the hint of violence, the jockeying for position had primed her too. He circled her clit, rewarded by her opening her legs and canting her pelvis up. Her cunt was wet and open, and convulsed at the slightest touch of his finger.

  “So lovely,” he murmured, and this time, unlike most of the times he’d said it to get what he wanted, he meant it. He licked his fingers then, making a show of it for her. “Delicious. I’d like to lick you, but I’m afraid you’d go for my eyes or my balls if I let go of you.”

  “I might. You’re a vicious, opportunistic monster, after all. But a sexy one.” She sounded like she was about to
say more, but he slipped a finger into her gripping sex, and whatever she’d planned to say got lost on a moan. Stars, she was tight, clenching like a fist. From the way she was rubbing herself against his hand, she’d ride his cock like a demented, delicious dream.

  He worked one more finger, then another, into that tight but hungry cunt, found her clit with his thumb.

  Her body tensed. Her eyes screwed shut. She let out a long mewl, her claws working furiously. “Going to come so soon for me?” he crooned.

  “No, for me. But you can watch.”

  Cheeky even now. He liked that. Liked it enough he increased the pressure, picked up his speed.

  And was rewarded by Xia wailing and rising up to bite his shoulder.

  But when he started to open his pants, eager to get inside that delicious, slick cunt, she struggled away from his grip. “No,” she said firmly. “And by that I mean yes, oh stars please yes, but not yet. You distracted me.”

  “I was trying to.”

  “You did it well,” she purred, “but I was trying to tell you something important. I still need to.”

  “Anyone would think you were Furagi with that serious face. If they had tails, they’d be puffed up and lashing back and forth half the time.” Hers was lashing the floor.

  “I was partly raised by a Furagi, so close enough. Now get off me.”

  Instead, moved by an evil impulse, he ground against her. “Do you really want that?”

  Xia’s pretty eyes grew wide, and for a second she was silent. Then she nodded. “Yes. Well, no, but you make it hard to think and I need to right now.”

  He could have stayed. He could tell by her body language, her smell, that sheer determination was all that kept her from grabbing him and pulling him back. She’d probably let him distract her again…

  But somewhere along the line, Rahal Mizyar had decided that he might be a vicious, opportunistic monster, but there were a few lines he wouldn’t cross. One of them was the line drawn when a woman said no. When it was a regretful no with a strong possibility of yes at a better time, like this one, he’d retreat strategically and hope to talk his way between her thighs sooner rather than later. But you had to make the retreat or you became the kind of guy he believed in shooting in the balls on sight.