“Uh huh. So an Arizona game ranger is killing people for no apparent reason?”
“Perhaps he’s killing poachers.” Kaz shrugged within the ropes. “The law never works fast enough. I can understand his frustration.”
“Funny, he said it was a spotted cat. They’ve had reports of sightings.”
“I’m sure they have. I haven’t been hiding myself. But I swear I haven’t killed anybody. I told you, I’m here for the pronghorns.”
Sure he was. And who better to toss the blame at than a Wildlife Management officer? On the other hand, if the ranger was the guilty one, why wouldn’t he take advantage of a visiting cat shifter’s presence?
He stared into Kaz’s eyes, so clear and full of innocence. Dammit. Why couldn’t you have been a leopard?
Sensing Dillon’s hesitation, Kaz jumped in. “Tell you what, sweetie, I’ll make you a deal. You let me live, and I’ll help you track down the real killer.”
“Yeah, right. So you’re a detective now, too?”
“I’m a shifter, like your killer. I have a better understanding of our kind. I might find clues your human science missed. I’m no bloodhound, but I dare say my sense of smell is far more discerning than yours. If I might have a look at the most recent body—”
“Why didn’t you do that this morning?”
“I didn’t want to expose myself.” He wrinkled his nose. “For exactly this reason.”
Good point. “Sorry, speedy. I can’t take any chances. You’re going into a holding cell until we get this resolved. If you want to call a lawyer—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Kaz shifted. The bonds meant to restrain a human fell loose on the cheetah’s form. He slid his paws free and bit through what he couldn’t slip out of.
Then he leaped at Dillon.
They fell backward, onto the narrow bed. Kaz shifted back. His teeth grazed Dillon’s throat, just a tease, before he crashed his mouth against Dillon’s in another of those soul-blasting kisses.
Dillon had his knife. One thrust and it would be over.
Instead, he accepted the kiss. How had he gone his entire life without being kissed like this? Like Kaz intended to swallow his soul. As if he already had.
His hands moved as if with minds of their own, exploring, groping Kaz. Not an inch of him was still. Every speck of Kaz’s naked body seemed in constant frantic motion. Holding him was like holding on to a primal life force. His body was the desert, spare and barren at first glance but harboring unexpected bursts of color and flavor and life. An entire ecosystem of fiery desire, all of it focused on Dillon.
So long. Too long since he’d had any relief, or so desperately wanted it.
Only when he realized Kaz was tearing at his fly did Dillon come back to his senses. This was all happening too fast.
Somehow, he got his eyes to focus. “Don’t I even get dinner first?”
“What? Oh.” Kaz slumped, all over. Even then his body still vibrated with speed. “You humans and your stupid rituals. What a waste of time. You’re my mate. We were born for each other. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“Sorry, no. I don’t have the luxury of instinct. Right now, I’ve got a set of murders to solve. That’s my first priority. You and your mating urges—” Our mating urges, he couldn’t help thinking, “—are going to have to wait.”
“Go slow?” Kaz tested the concept and, from the lift of his lip, clearly found it distasteful. “I don’t know if I can do that. Though it would be an interesting test.”
“You’re going to have to. And you’re going to have to sit in a cell for a while. You’re the prime suspect. Can’t be helped.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Kaz said firmly. “Tell you what. I’ll go do some investigating on my own. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow night and we’ll have that dinner. And then I’m claiming you. That’s as slow as I can go.” He palmed Dillon’s cheek. “We’re going to be spending our lives together. I suppose I should ask you your name.”
“It’s Dillon. Dillon Royce.”
“Dillon.” His name sighed off Kaz’s tongue. “Until tomorrow night, my love.” He captured Dillon’s mouth again and sent his senses spinning. When Dillon opened his eyes, those delightful lips were gone, the hand at the back of his neck was gone, the scent of cat was a fading memory, and the door to his room stood open.
He went to the open doorway, although he knew it was pointless. Of course, Kaz was nowhere in sight. The ache in his groin was now joined by a more poignant ache in his soul, its one true mate discovered and abruptly torn away. Maybe there was something to the mate bond after all, even where humans were concerned.
Or maybe that was guilt he felt, that in spite of everything he was falling hard for his number-one suspect. That he’d let a possible killer go free.
Damn shifters. Damn spotted cats. Dillon slammed the door on Arizona.
Chapter Four
“I tried,” Dillon told Barrows the next morning. “I had him, but he got away. But I got a name. Kaz Genovese.”
Barrows jerked his head up from the papers he was skimming. “The Olympian? He’s a shifter?”
“Cheetah. Claimed he’s in Arizona to chase after pronghorns.”
Barrows mulled it over and finally nodded. “Well, that explains a lot of things. I’ll send the boys out to pick him up. Bet he didn’t bother to hide. Unless he’s skipped town by now.”
“He hasn’t.” The memory of Kaz’s kiss still seared his lips. “He won’t skip town. He’s not done with me.” A part of him—a scarily huge part—prayed that was true. “You said you had something?”
Barrows studied him before he answered. “Got an ID on Number Three. George Albertson. He’s well-known around these parts as a political activist. Gay rights in particular. Last time he was seen in public, he was in Tucson chairing a LGBTQ rally.”
“Gay rights?” Unbidden and unwanted, an image of the body’s mangled privates sprang into Dillon’s mind. “Oh shit. So on top of everything else, this is a hate crime now?”
“Looks that way. Victim Number Two? The one that sat in the sun for a while? His husband was the one who reported him missing. No word on Number One’s preferences yet, but we’re looking into it.”
So there it was, the connection. Once again, it all pointed at Kaz. Even as he was thinking this, Barrows voiced it. “Y’know, your boyfriend’s obviously gay. This could be—”
“No.” The need to defend Kaz shocked him. “And he isn’t my boyfriend.”
Barrows shrugged. “My mistake. We should have the autopsy results on Albertson back by this afternoon. Though, tell you the truth, I don’t expect to find anything new. Spilling guts aside, those bodies were scrubbed clean.”
“Which reminds me. I may have someone I can ask about that. How do I get hold of the nearest Game and Fish office?”
****
Barrows did so for him, and cleared the way by telling them Dillon was working with both rangers and the police on the “animal attacks”. After they answered his questions, the office told Dillon how to get in touch with Drew Coblentz, the young ranger who’d been at the murder scene. But only once, or twice? Dillon needed to know.
He drove his rental over to the luncheonette, where he spotted the jeep in the parking lot. He also spotted Coblentz, talking with two other men outside the restaurant. When Dillon pulled up the pair tugged their baseball caps low over their faces and slouched up the sidewalk. Dillon’s eyes narrowed over their gait. That wasn’t a wolf or bear walk, but it definitely wasn’t human. It wasn’t anything he was familiar with.
The kid walked over to Dillon’s car. Make that limped. Dillon glanced at his feet. “You okay?”
“Tripped on a curb. No big. I spend so much time out in the wild, I’m not used to sidewalks any more. You wanted to ask me something?”
“Just need to clear up a few things. You and another ranger were present at the crime scene yesterday. Was Wildlife Management called in for the other two killings?”
“Not for the first one, no, sir. That was just the police. They’re the ones who ruled it an animal attack. The second one, we got called in with the police. Same for the third. The police called Francis down from the Tucson office. I was only there because I spotted them by accident.”
“No one messed with the body before the police got there? No other rangers were in the area other than you?”
“No, sir, not to my knowledge. I don’t know why they would be. We’re each assigned a territory. If someone was supposed to join me, I would have been told about it.”
Through it all he looked Dillon square in the eye. He didn’t fidget or twitch. If he was lying, he was damn good at it.
“You still think it was a jaguar? That spotted cat you’ve been hearing about?”
“Yes, sir.” The kid shrugged one shoulder. “What else could it have been?”
What, indeed. Dillon thanked him and watched him make his way to his jeep. With the limp, it was impossible to tell what his normal walk looked like.
Chapter Five
After another fruitless scour of the three crime scenes, Dillon returned to his motel, tired, frustrated, and aching for a long, hot shower. Aching in other ways, too. Each time he saw Kaz and each time they parted, the pain got a little bit worse. He could only imagine how it must feel for the shifter.
He’d never stopped to think about a shifter’s feelings before. But then, his only interaction with shifters up to now had been with the criminal element. He knew in theory they came in good and evil flavors, just like humans, but if all one ever tasted was sour, how would anyone recognize the sweet when they came across it?
He wanted to believe Kaz was innocent. All he needed was one scrap of real proof.
Dillon opened the door to his room, and froze.
The room was lit with candles and smelled vaguely of hibiscus. The shabby little table had been pulled to the center of the room. It, too, sported candles, two long vanilla tapers. The table was set with a pair of Chinet plates, two red Solo cups, and a bottle of wine. Two plastic-topped platters of what smelled like Chinese food sat atop the plates.
On the bed, upon fresh sheets, sprawled a naked Kaz, with a long-stemmed red rose in his teeth.
Dillon stepped inside and shut the door. He wasn’t sure if laughter, incredulity, or swearing would be the most appropriate response. “This is … how you date?”
Kaz carefully removed the rose and laid it on the nightstand. “No. Among my kind, the male kills a gazelle and presents his love with the liver. I thought you’d prefer something more human-oriented.”
“Chinese takeout in a motel room. That’s my speed, all right.” Even motionless, Kaz still seemed to visibly vibrate—with life, with danger, with the promise of willing, hot sex. Part of Dillon, mostly below the waist, wanted to charge straight for the bed. The rest was still cautious. “How’d you get in here?”
“I told the woman at the desk I was your fiancé. The security’s not very good here.”
“I’ll have to talk to them about that.” He picked the lesser of two evils and went to the table to inspect Kaz’s offering. He’d never been able to turn down Chinese. “You sure there’s no liver in here?”
“There might be. I think it’s mostly seafood.”
“You don’t know?”
“I just pointed at the menu. I was in a hurry.”
Of course. “This isn’t going to work, you know. Bond or no bond. You’re still a suspect. I kill your kind for a living.”
“Ah, but you won’t kill me, or you’d have done it already. So there’s a chance. I’m going as slowly as I’m capable. What else do you need?”
“Proof you’re not a murderer.”
“I haven’t murdered you.” He flashed a smile.
“Actual, tangible proof. Something I can take to law enforcement.”
“This is hunter foreplay, is it? Very well.” Kaz leaned back on the bed and writhed, setting himself fully on display, with much batting of lashes. “You’ll have to interrogate me.”
Damn cat. Damn spotted cat. Dillon searched his amber stare for the hatred he’d seen in the leopard’s. He didn’t find it. Somehow, he knew he was never going to find it, not in Kaz’s eyes.
Something hard and sweet and terrifying lurched within his soul.
He picked up the chopsticks that had come with the food and twirled them between his fingers, like small daggers. Kaz watched, curious. Was that a touch of concern? Dillon let half a smile linger on his lips before he grabbed the plate labeled Happy Family and stalked over to the bed. He sat on the edge beside Kaz. Kaz relaxed. Well, as much as he was capable.
Removing the lid revealed a mass of shrimp, chicken, lobster, beef, pork, and what he guessed were scallops on a bed of mostly carrots and snow peas. Plenty of meat. He should have expected that. Dillon plucked a plump shrimp from the platter and teased it along Kaz’s pouty lips. When the cheetah opened his mouth, Dillon slipped it inside. Kaz sucked the ends of the chopsticks clean. He chewed with deliberate emphasis. Their eyes never left each other’s.
“How long have you been in Bedloe?” Dillon asked. “When did you get here?”
Kaz swallowed, nearly choking. “That’s your question? You should be asking, ‘What’s your favorite position?’ You’re a horrible date.”
Dillon slipped some chicken into his mouth. This time Kaz chewed more quickly. “About two weeks, I think,” he finally answered. “Normally I wouldn’t linger so long, but those damn pronghorns are fast.” He angled his hip to press against Dillon’s. “Other things have kept me here as well.”
He rooted the chopsticks around in the carton and came up with a load of vegetables. Kaz made a face. Dillon threatened him with it before he ate it himself. His tongue sought the taste of Kaz on the ends of the chopsticks, but the sauce defeated his efforts.
“Do you have an alibi for the nights those men were killed?”
“Sadly, no. I’ve been staying at an old teammate’s apartment while he’s competing in Europe. This town doesn’t have much in the way of night life for those of my bent, and I’m not up to driving to Tucson or Phoenix. So it’s early to bed, early to rise so I can go out and hunt pronghorns. I’m sure that when your murders occurred, I was fast asleep. Alone. Bereft of company.” He stared at Dillon as if this last were his fault. “I’ve no need to concoct an alibi because I didn’t do it. Can we get to the sex now?”
“In a minute.” Another shrimp and a piece of beef found their way into Kaz’s eager mouth. The way he worked that mouth had Dillon drooling. He tried to hide it with vegetables, and got a smirk from Kaz. “You’re going to have to be patient.”
“Not one of my virtues, I’m afraid.”
Now Dillon smirked. “Got a problem with premature ejaculation, do you?”
“I was hoping that wouldn’t come up.”
Something had come up, all right. Kaz’s slender shaft had risen to jab toward the ceiling. Dillon himself had been sporting wood almost from the second he walked through the door. From the second he’d found the cheetah in his bed.
“The mate bond,” he said. “It doesn’t work with humans. That’s a myth.”
“It works,” Kaz said. “I’ve seen it. I’m feeling it now. As are you.” His voice dropped to a husky rumble as he reached up to cup Dillon’s cheek. “We’re both hunters. We know when our prey’s within reach.”
Dillon flashed the chopsticks up to rest against Kaz’s throat. Thin, flimsy protection from spotted desire, one last line of defense.
“Tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me it wasn’t you. Give me something. Anything.”
Kaz palmed the bulge in Dillon’s pants. That touch alone nearly shattered him. “You’re the one who’s meant for me. I want to give you everything.”
“Except for proof you’re not a murderer.”
The shifter sighed. “I was put on this Earth to run, not kill. If I had the proof, I’d give it to you gladly. As it stands, I have nothing but my word. If tha
t isn’t enough, then neither is the bond between us. I assume you’re armed?”
Of course he was armed. He was a hunter. Killing shifters was how he lived.
Kaz shut his eyes. “Do as you choose. What your heart chooses.”
Goddamn spotted cat.
Dillon dove in and claimed Kaz’s waiting mouth. He tasted like takeout Chinese and smelled like roses and felt like vibrant, virile cat. Dillon fumbled the plate onto the nightstand and grabbed for Kaz’s shoulders. That supercharged tingle shot through him, that unstoppable vibrant motion that said distinctly Kaz to all his senses. Like trying to grasp a livewire. He continued to hold on, electrocution be damned.
In the dark, someone had said, all cats are grey. Not this one. In a pitch-black room, Dillon would know Kaz by touch alone, a flash of golden fire under his fingers, racing over his skin. His cock grew even harder at the thought of Kaz’s hot mouth swallowing it, of Kaz’s lean cock slamming home inside Dillon’s ass.
Kaz lunged and hauled him down and wrapped his limbs around Dillon’s body. The sudden movement broke their mouths apart.
“What are you, a snake?” Dillon muttered.
In response, Kaz tore his shirt away and plunged his hands within the shreds of fabric, running his blunt claws over the hunter’s firm pecs, abs and sides. One hand slid over Dillon’s shoulder to leave light scratches down his back. “Ah.” Dillon sighed. “Nice kitty.”
His other hand freed Dillon’s belt, tugged it loose, cast it aside. Dillon helped to rid himself from the confines of his jeans. He was tugging off his boots when Kaz’s hand came to a sudden stop at Dillon’s right hip, resting on the jagged scars that marred it. His eyes asked a silent question. “Close encounter,” Dillon said. “No one you knew, I’m sure.”
“We’re not all like that.” His hand sought Dillon’s cock and gave it a confident squeeze. “Most of us are better.”
“You’ll have to prove that, too.”
“If you insist.”
The words had barely left his mouth before Kaz dove forward and effortlessly fit that mouth around Dillon’s straining cock. His mouth was everything Dillon had secretly dreamed of—steamy, wet, and hungry. His lips clamped around Dillon’s dick and held it firm while his tongue explored for points of weakness. He quickly discovered Dillon’s love of having his dickhead sucked on, and mercilessly exploited it like the predator he was. At the same time, he took Dillon’s sac in his hand and began to fondle his balls.
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