The Vulfan's Dark Desires (Starcrossed Dating Agency Book 3)

by Georgette St. Clair

  “I still think this is one of those candid camera shows,” Dorcas said to herself, but with less conviction. They walked through the opening and took in their surroundings. They were standing on an enormous rooftop patio, and a group of very tall men and women wearing black-and-blue tunics and leggings were waiting to greet them. All of them had pointed, fur-tufted ears.

  “Aunt Dorcas. Look at the sky,” Violet said. Two enormous moons floated overhead.

  Chapter Three

  Treffon couldn’t explain why he was in Donnelle, at a bar in one of the shadier areas of downtown. He hadn’t gone out and socialized in years. When he’d done so in the past, single females had flocked around him and rubbed up against him, desperately trying to catch his attention – and it had made him angry and nauseated.

  But tonight, after hours and hours of brutal sparring in the arena, he was still restless and irritable, snapping at pack members who even dared to glance his way. And he’d run out of sparring partners; everybody was in the infirmary, healing.

  He’d changed into his animal form and run through the forest, hoping to give his beast some release in an area where it couldn’t harm anybody. The restless energy inside him was boiling like a volcano about to erupt.

  He’d gotten dressed and headed downtown, wandering through the back alleys for hours, hoping that somebody would try to accost him. Nobody was that foolish.

  Finally he found himself wandering into a dark, smoky bar, as if tugged by an invisible string.

  Staffed by a many-limbed Kra’aal that handled orders at a bewildering pace, slinging bottles, pouring shots and dispensing blown-glass bubbles of intoxicating gases, the bar was noisy, lively and grimy. The crowded space smelled of spilled liquor and the tang of alien sweat. Discordant music over a growling bass line set Treffon’s teeth on edge, competing with laughter, drunken shouting and cheesy pick-up lines in a dozen languages. These days, Wor-Lan and Thorolf mingled freely in the bar, although they still congregated on opposite sides of the room. They drank and played games of chance and flirted with alien women.

  Thorolf muscled his way through the crowd, towards the bar.

  As he moved, somebody stumbled into him and spelled their drink on his crotch.

  A flash of fierce joy burned through him. Finally! A reason to start a fight!

  Then he looked down and saw who’d spilled the drink on him.

  A human. A curvy, sexy human female who was gaping up at him. Her soft, pillowy lips formed a perfect “O” of dismay. Her face was adorably round, and her thick, curly brown hair hung loose, rippling down to her shoulders. She smelled delicious, her own sweet aroma mingling with the scent of some kind of exotic Earth flower.

  Not only that, but she’d stumbled up against him and – wonder of wonders – he didn’t feel the usual crawling of the flesh that plagued him whenever a female touched him these days. In fact, she sent blood rushing to his crotch, and a hot rush of arousal flared deep inside him. Thorolf resisted the urge to step closer, to lower his head to her throat, press his lips against her pulse point, and inhale her scent. He shook his head to clear it, but held on to the fragile bubble of excitement in his chest.

  She might not be his true mate, but even finding a woman he could bed would be an absolute miracle.

  “Oh, my God,” the human female said to him. “I can’t believe I just did that. Actually, yes, I can – I do that kind of thing all the time. I was born with two left feet.”

  Two left feet? What a terrible deformity; how difficult her life must be. He glanced down, feeling sympathetic.

  No, they looked normal. Two adorable little feet in strappy brown low-heeled shoes that the humans called sandals. He found himself with the urge to run his fingers lightly along her instep, to see whether it would make her squirm and curl her toes. He’d heard that human females were ticklish.

  She saw where he was looking and laughed. “No, no, that’s an Earth expression! It just means I’m clumsy. Hey…can I buy you a drink?”

  “You want to buy me a drink?” Treffon was amused.

  She nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “Absolutely. As an apology.”

  He looped his arm around her shoulders and steered her over to the bar. Her skin was warm and alive and silky-soft under his fingers.

  My flesh is touching a woman’s flesh, and I have no desire to hurl her away from me at all. In fact, I desire to touch more of it. To touch her all over. To taste her…

  His dark mood lifted somewhat. “I will buy you a drink,” he said firmly. “To replace the one I spilled when I accidentally bumped into you.”

  “Oh, that’s very nice of you, thanks.” She flopped onto a chair, and he sat next to her and waved at the bartender.

  The bartender paused in its multi-limbed service, stopping with several bottles of brightly colored, sticky-looking liquid suspended in mid-air. Some were ruinously expensive off-world liquors for the more discerning denizens of the Donnelle underworld, some were little more than bathtub gin – which brought new terrors when you knew about the bathing habits of some alien species – and at least one would kill seventy-five percent of the bar’s customers. The other customers shouted and waved empty glasses, but the bartender ignored them. Treffon tended to have that effect on people.

  “What would you like?” Treffon asked the human woman.

  “Oh shoot. Good question.” She squinted up at the holographic menu that floated above the bar and giggled, a musical sound. “I don’t recognize any of those drink names. I like drinks that are sweet and fruity and…um…do you have any ideas?”

  Treffon ordered her a Leeflemar, and ordered himself a Keera, a dark bitter draught that was fermented from the Keera tree. Her drink came in a spiral flute, its color starting out as a luscious syrupy purple at the bottom, then fading up the coils of glass to an effervescent pink at the top.

  She took a sip, and her face brightened. “Oh, that is very tasty. Excellent choice.” She took a bigger gulp.

  He offered her a sip of his drink.

  She gave him a suspicious look. “It smells like asphalt.”

  “I assure you that it is not toxic to humans. Go on, it’s a local favorite.”

  She took a sip, then coughed and spluttered. “Whoo!” She laughed. “Doesn’t that melt your insides when you drink it?”

  He smiled at her. “Not so far.”

  “You have guts of steel.” She tapped his abdomen, and he felt a hot rush of arousal. “Oh my, you really do. You must work out all the time. I’m sorry, was that too forward?”

  His smile stretched wider. “No, I believe it was just forward enough.”

  A drinks tray floated past them and landed on a table full of alien traders, who were throwing dice and watching each other suspiciously. A metallic humanoid robot glided inches above the ground, taking drinks orders. Several insectoid TiVarkeevas sat nearby, inserting their pale green proboscises into flower-shaped cups and sucking up a fermented nectar.

  She looked around the bar, eyes wide with amazement. “This is still so incredible. I can’t believe I’m here.”

  “You’re human, so you must be here for Starcrossed.”

  “Yes!” She brightened. Then her face fell. “But I’m not having great luck with it so far. I mean, I’ve only been here a few days, but… I have a friend who came here a few months ago, and she met her guy on the first night. And they’re so in love, it’s amazing. She’s already expecting! And they can’t keep their hands off each other.” She gave a sigh of envy and took another sip of her drink.

  “If you have not been claimed yet, then you have been meeting fools.” He meant it sincerely. Who wouldn’t want a sweet, curvaceous woman like this? One who looked at the new world around her with a somehow fearless sense of wonder? Who made even clumsiness seem charming and artless? One who had his heart thumping painfully in his chest as she reached out and squeezed his forearm in thanks. The pressure of her little fingers lingered.

  She smiled up at him. �
��Thank you. Some of the men have asked me out, but I wasn’t interested. I’ve been to four of their mixers already and I just…I didn’t meet anyone I clicked with. They were nice, and all, but…” She leaned in and said in a low, confiding voice, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “I vow I will not.”

  “I’m waiting for the one.”

  Treffon barked out a bitter laugh. “Me too. But she’s not coming. Ever.”

  She looked at him, puzzled. “Why not? How could you know that?”

  He sighed. “It’s a Vulfan thing. At Starcrossed, they must have explained to you about true mates – how we can instantly sense when we meet ours.”

  “But just because you haven’t met her yet…”

  “I never will. I know this.”

  He took a long pull of Keera and set his drink down. She took a few more sips of her drink, and he watched as her little pink tongue darted out to lick a drop from her lips.

  He felt physical attraction pulsing through his body. He wanted to slide his tongue against hers. Kiss her until he drew sounds of wanting from her. Pull her hard against him so he could feel every soft curve of her body against his; feel her heart racing. Would it be wrong to have sex with her – if she was willing? Would it be wrong to offer her some kind of alliance of the type that Zura had suggested?

  Where did that thought come from?

  He’d met the woman only minutes ago, and he had not felt the true mate connection. The way every Vulfan he’d spoken to had described it, there was an instant sense of familiarity. There was an openness, an immediate willingness to bare all to the true mate, an instant sense of trust and belonging.

  There was also the Var-hool, that haze of lust that descended on true mates. He certainly felt very, very physically attracted – his half-hard cock kicked in his pants as he dragged his gaze away from her mouth, the ache leaving him almost breathless – but there was no sense of openness or trust or belonging. He felt his usual wariness; even with this gorgeous creature by his side, he was completely aware of his surroundings and prepared for attacks and assassination attempts at any time.

  “I’m going to the dance tomorrow night,” she said. “I made friends with this great girl named Zura. Her dad, this guy named Madok, works at Starcrossed. She and her dad are tricking her cousin Treffon into going to the dance. Do you know him? Boss of the Thorolf pack. She wants to fix me up with him, she said she had a feeling about me, but…no way.”

  So Zura was still trying to fix him up. Well, she had some nerve scheming behind his back and— Wait a minute! Why wouldn’t this human agree to being matched with him?

  “Why wouldn’t you want to meet this Treffon fellow?” he asked.

  A look of distaste puckered her face. “My friend Allison warned me about him. She’s mated to someone from his pack. Apparently, this guy Treffon is a real jerk. Temperamental, bully, punishes people all the time for no reason, takes out his bad moods on everyone. I guess he wasn’t always this bad, but the past few years he’s become just unbearable.”

  Treffon felt a sharp sting of annoyance. “Well, that is one human’s opinion.”

  “Nope.” She waved her hand in dismissal and took another sip from her drink. “Lots of people chimed in and agreed with her. People from his pack. He’s a jerk. Whoo, this drink is strong. I’m light-headed.” She pushed it away. “I should take a break.”

  “I am sure that anyone who has problems with his style of leadership could leave his pack.” He struggled to tamp down his indignation.

  She frowned in thought. “Don’t they have to leave their families behind if they do that? And I’ve been told that the Thorolfs were at war with the other major pack on this planet up until recently, and relations are still dicey between the two packs, so they don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

  “They could always leave the planet,” Treffon muttered into his drink. “I could help arrange that.”

  She gave a resigned shrug. “I guess I’ll go to the dance tomorrow night, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope. What are the odds that I’d meet the one here?”

  He took an enormous swig of his drink and drained it completely, rattled by what she’d told him. “How would you know they were the one?”

  She considered this. “Well, there would be an instant attraction. I’d feel comfortable with them. I usually feel awkward around guys, like I’m going to spill something or say something dumb or laugh too loudly, and they’ll judge me for it.” She leaned in again, saying in that confiding tone, “I’m really clumsy. I’ve never made it through a date without spilling something.”

  He wanted her to stay close to him, because her scent was so delicious, but she straightened back up again and very carefully took a sip of her drink. “I did not spill a single drop,” she announced proudly. “That time, anyway.”

  “You don’t seem awkward to me.”

  “That’s because I felt comfortable with you right away. “ She looked at him, as if considering something. “But you would know if you’d met your true mate, right? And it’s a mutual thing? So anything I’m feeling for you right now can’t be that – it must just be purely physical attraction because you’re so incredibly… Wait, was that my out loud voice? Whoops, that must be the alcohol talking.” Her cheeks colored red, which was what happened to humans when they were embarrassed. “See? Awkward,” she mumbled, and quickly drained the rest of her drink.

  “Anything you’re feeling for me? Like what?” He really wanted to know, he realized.

  “I feel… I feel…woozy,” she said, pressing her hand to her forehead.

  She slumped and started to faint. He caught her in his arms and pulled her up against him, holding her upright. Concern for her was his overriding emotion, but even that couldn’t dampen his reaction to the sweet weight of her in his arms. His arm around her waist drew her close against his body, and his breath stuttered as her hip brushed him intimately. His other hand cradled the back of her head. He leaned close to her, noting with relief that she was breathing evenly – she must just have been affected by the drink – and felt that tug in his solar plexus again as he caught her scent. Her breath was soft against his lips and the temptation to press his mouth against hers was almost unbearable.

  Just then, he heard shouting from off to his right – two men were shoving each other. Soon, the whole bar would be at each other’s throats.

  Treffon quickly maneuvered the human woman to safety, sitting her down in a booth. She jerked awake, staring around her in alarm.

  “Stay here!” he shouted.

  He shoved his way into the fray, fighting off anyone who tried to go near the booth.

  Shouting with fury, he concentrated hard and sent waves of power radiating outwards, blasting at the brawlers. They cried out in pain and scrambled to get away, tripping over each other in their haste.

  When the fight finally died down, he hurried back…but her seat was empty. He looked around wildly – she was gone.

  Frantically, he started searching for her. Finally he found a bouncer who told him that the little human had hurried out the front door and gotten into a hovercab.

  The disappointment that surged through him was surprisingly strong. He wanted her back. She made him smile. She took his mind off of his worries.

  She’s gone.

  But he knew where she’d be tomorrow night.

  Chapter Four

  Treffon had to hand it to his uncle. Madok was extremely talented at keeping a secret. He’d told Treffon that he wanted him to come to this dance because he suspected a cyborg infiltrator would be present.

  If the Earth woman hadn’t told Treffon about Madok’s plans, he would never have known what he was being led into.

  Normally, Treffon would have been furious at the deception; he’d made his position clear many times. He would not allow an arranged mating.

  And Madok would expect Treffon’s anger…but he’d also know that Treffon would put on a reasonably diplomatic front, especi
ally because this was a party thrown jointly with the Wor-Lans, and Treffon was committed to maintaining peace with them.

  He’d most likely planned on introducing Treffon to some of the most attractive women there, in the hopes that there would be at least a physical attraction. Madok and Zura might not agree on much, but they were both eager to see Treffon mated. Zura genuinely cared about Treffon, and Madok didn’t want to see the pack shamed if Treffon went mad.

  When Madok led him through the door into a room full of women dressed in gorgeous Earth finery, Treffon flashed him a fierce grin.

  “Well, let us commence at once. We should put all the females in detention, then strip them and scan them to discover which one is the cyborg. Of course, we’ll need to take blood for testing, and I’m afraid the interrogation will be most brutal. But it cannot be helped; the safety of our pack comes before all else.”

  Madok’s jaw dropped. “Well,” he stammered. “Perhaps we should take a more subtle approach.”

  “Or perhaps you lured me here in hopes of finding me a pair bond, and there is no cyborg?”

  Madok spluttered, taking a step back. “You know…I It’s just… I thought that…”

  Treffon cut him off. “Excellent. There are many attractive females here, and one in particular I am eager to get acquainted with. Let me go and speak to the Earth women.”

  He was rewarded with the look of genuine shock on Madok’s face. Treffon turned and strode off, scanning the room for the female. He didn’t see her anywhere, but he would not stop searching until he found her.

  The women thronging the ballroom were dressed in all shades and fabrics – the plush of velvets, the sheen of satin, shot silk, lace, and delicate beading in scarlets and golds, jewel tones of amethyst and emerald, delicate pinks, and lilacs the color of the sky. Only a few couples swayed on the dance floor, but knots of people had gathered around the edges of the room, and the low murmur of conversation twisted through the harmonies of music that drifted from silver floating spheres that clustered around the dancers and withdrew discreetly from murmured tete-a-tetes.