by Cara Bristol
“Oh?”
His whiskers twitched as he cracked a smile. “I got married.”
“Married? What do you mean?” Inferno frowned.
“Wedded. United in matrimony. Hitched. Tied the knot.” He used all the Earthisms he could think of.
Inferno and Psy glanced at each other. “What about your genmate? What about Kat?” Inferno asked.
“She’s the one I married.” He settled into a recliner.
“How did that happen?” Inferno scratched his chin. “You two hate each other.”
“You seemed calmer when you came in,” Psy observed.
“I feel calmer and want to apologize for my snappish behavior the past few months.”
“No big deal,” Psy said.
“We understood.” Inferno nodded. “We all had bumpy starts when we met our genmates. I worried Geneva wouldn’t accept me. I couldn’t even convince her I was a ’Topian. Since you got married, I assume Kat likes you now? You like her?”
“No to the first. To the second, let’s say I don’t dislike her.” He’d enjoyed verbally sparring with her. She would never be boring. It was unfortunate her dislike hadn’t waned yet, but, given time, friendship and rapport could grow out of their bond. They shared a mating gene, she’d experienced the feral fever with him, they’d mated, and their union had been approved by Earth’s government. What more did a couple need?
How about love, a little voice whispered. That was the one thing they didn’t have, might never have.
“So, how did this come about?” Inferno persisted.
“Yeah, maybe you’d better start at the beginning,” Psy agreed.
“Kat was attending a law enforcement conference in Las Vegas, and we ran into each other. We shared a drink at the bar. I kissed her.” He shrugged. “The rest is history.”
Psy arched his eyebrows. “There are gaps in your history. How do you progress from a drink and a kiss to married?”
“Details will have to be remain unsaid.” He wasn’t one to mate and tell.
“So, if you’re married, why are you here? Why aren’t you with her? Or why isn’t she here with you?” Inferno asked.
Soon after Kat had fled his suite, she’d departed the hotel and caught a flight to Spokane, the closest airport to Argent. He knew because he’d followed her from the casino. “We still have a few issues to work out.” She’d been shocked, horrified when she’d awakened in his bed and discovered they’d gotten married.
He counted on the hormones still in her system to help cement their bond. He hoped the residuals wouldn’t wear off before they could mate again. He worried she might attempt to have their marriage dissolved. A divorce wouldn’t change the fact that they were genmates, but he kind of liked the idea of being married to her.
“How did you get her to marry you?” Ever-persistent Inferno asked.
“We were both under the influence.”
“You were drunk?” Psy eyed him, and Tigre caught a whiff of disapproval.
Beyond drunk. Shit-faced and feverish, the latter of which probably had been the greater factor. But Kat didn’t have to marry him. She didn’t have to mate with him. She’d made her own decisions.
But had she? He fidgeted. He’d realized immediately after kissing her that he’d infected her. Did that count as taking advantage? He hadn’t thought so at the time, but his judgment had been compromised by the haze of lust. Would she have married him if she’d been clearheaded? Judging from the manner in which she’d dashed from his suite barefoot and wrapped in a sheet, he’d guess no.
Would he have married her? He wasn’t sure. He’d resisted the genmate bond for months. Ironically, if he hadn’t resisted the bond so hard, the feral fever might not have consumed him to such a degree.
“We’re genmates. We’re meant to be together.” Regardless of what he’d done or shouldn’t have done, that was still true.
“Well, then everything’s good,” Psy commented.
He glowered. The Verital had a way of picking at his insecurity with nothing more than an arch of his eyebrows. Buoyant mood deflated, Tigre pushed out of his chair. “I need to think.” Snapping his tail, he stalked out of the great room.
“Hey, congratulations, again!” Inferno called.
* * * *
Dragging her rolling overnight case, Kat entered the house. Meowing, Amanda Blake wound around her ankles, leaving fur on Kat’s dark slacks. She deposited her purse and keys on the foyer table and scooped up the cat. “Did you miss me? Did Verna take good care of you?”
She settled on the sofa with the cat. “I did a crazy thing,” she confessed.
The way Amanda Blake nudged Kat’s chin reminded her of how Tigre had rubbed his face against her jaw. Had he been marking her with his pheromones? Claiming her as his territory? She was no alien’s possession!
Marriages could be undone. It wasn’t like they would be tied to each other for eternity. As soon as feasible, she would get the marriage annulled, and, if an annulment wasn’t an option, then she’d file for divorce. She ignored the odd pang in her heart. If she felt a tad ambivalent about unencumbering herself, it had to be because she was still under the influence of the alien mojo he’d infected her with. She couldn’t remain wedded to a stranger. A man she hated.
Well, hate might be a little strong. Even at her greatest animosity, she hadn’t hated him.
She had to admit she didn’t exactly dislike him, either. She’d only met him the one time before Las Vegas, but she couldn’t forget how he’d growled at her, snapping his tail with irritation. According to him, she’d dissed him first. That wasn’t the way she remembered it, but whatever. They’d have to agree to disagree. They each recalled different versions of the event. Not unusual. Eyewitness accounts often contradicted each other.
The flight from Vegas to Spokane had given her time to mull everything over and regain a semblance of calm, although Tigre had gotten under her skin—like a parasite that caused severe itching. Truthfully? She wasn’t sure what she felt anymore.
Dismay? For sure. Disappointment at her loss of control? Definitely. But, their jibes and banter had energized her. The heated male appreciation in his eyes had stroked her feminine vanity. He’d been undeterred in his pursuit. She was a cop. Subduing suspects bigger than her had required projecting authority, acting tough and aggressive. For personal safety, she couldn’t take any crap from anybody. She had to be in control at all times because if you gave someone an inch, he’d take a mile.
Like Tigre had done. She’d agreed to have a drink with him—and she’d ended up married.
But the toughness so essential to her career had proven detrimental to her personal life. It was hard to switch off the aggression, let go of Sgt. Kelley and become Kat—which didn’t make her approachable to the opposite sex. She scared off most men.
Hence, the stupid, expensive dress. She’d bought it to feel sexy again. Vegas had seemed like the perfect place to wear it. What happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas, right?
Then she’d attracted the wrong sort of attention. The drunken guy at the craps table had used every opportunity to touch her. She’d tried to be nice, to act like a lady, but she’d been very close to twisting his roving hands in a direction hands didn’t bend when Tigre had intervened.
Of course, she hadn’t needed assistance; she was more than capable of taking care of herself—she’d been doing it her whole life. She was the defender. She’d joined the sheriff’s department to help people who couldn’t protect themselves, like wives beaten by their husbands, women raped at knifepoint, little old ladies who got mugged for their Social Security checks, small business owners who got robbed, and the poor who were preyed upon by their own neighbors.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man had tried to protect her. Nor when she would have allowed it. It was better to rely on herself than a man who would let her down when she needed him most. The sole person she could trust with absolute certa
inty was herself.
But Tigre’s unnecessary chivalry had touched her despite their differences, so when security had appeared to boot him from the casino, she’d returned the favor and rescued him.
That had been her first mistake. If she’d let them kick him out, none of this would have happened. Except she couldn’t stand by and let them drag him away. He might have been butting his nose where it didn’t belong, but his intentions had been good. And she’d been inebriated. No good decisions were made under the influence. She’d witnessed that time and time again. Alcohol weakened inhibitions. People committed acts they never would if sober. Most of the times she’d been physically assaulted by suspects, they were drunk or high.
That didn’t excuse the behavior. You were accountable for what you did while inebriated. So, much as she would love to blame the booze for her terrible decision, she couldn’t. She had to accept responsibility for anything she did while drunk.
However, feral fever was an entirely different matter. She couldn’t be held accountable for her lack of immunity to a foreign contagion! She hadn’t given Tigre permission to infect her with an alien disease! As soon as he had kissed her, something inside her had changed.
Her body had hummed with arousal while in his company in the lounge, but she never would have acted on it. But when he’d kissed her, lust had skyrocketed out of control. The only thing that mattered was screwing his brains out. Everything else faded away. But, married?
The feral fever had taken control of her mind as well as her body.
“Meow?” Amanda Blake bumped her hand, and Kat realized she’d stopped petting. “I’ve never heard of feral fever!” she told the cat. Tigre had said it wasn’t an infection, but maybe she should get a blood test—except, would they have a test for an alien disease? Or a cure?
Probably not. She expelled a sigh. She would have to hope she wasn’t infected, or, if she was, it would run its course. Come on, antibodies, do your thing! The overwhelming lust seemed to have abated by morning, so maybe the worst was over.
She touched her swollen mouth. Hopefully the whisker burn on her chin would be gone by morning when she had to report to work. God forbid she should show up at the station looking like she’d spent a wild weekend in Vegas. Her partner would never let her live it down. I never left the conference hall. That was her story, and she would stick to it. No one could guess how tender her breasts were or how sore her pussy was. I had more sex last night than I had all year. Probably longer than a year, but she shied away from counting when her last sexual encounter had been.
She wondered if Tigre had come back to Argent or if he’d stayed in Vegas. Of all the luck for him to show up at the casino when she happened to be there! If not for that, she’d still be a free woman.
I’m still free. This marriage is a minor hiccup. One she intended to fix very soon.
Chapter Five
Still suffering from a bad-decision hangover, Kat slept through the alarm and had to rush to work. From there, it was go-go-go all day. She and her partner were dispatched to a couple of neighbor disputes, a report of a missing kid (who, fortunately, had only cut class to hang out at a friend’s house), a sad case of domestic violence, vandalism at a car dealership, shoplifting at a local box store, and yet another burglary of a house located on the outskirts of town. There’d been a rash of the latter lately. Not until near quitting time were they able to finish their reports.
Matt Jeffries, her partner, peered at her from across their facing desks. “How was Vegas?”
She’d fully expected to be grilled, but after they’d been so busy and he didn’t ask about the trip, she’d assumed he’d forgotten about it. She should have known better. Matt had a mind like a steel trap. The man never forgot. Never let anything go. His dogged determination served him well in police work, but it was a pain in the ass sometimes. She squinted at her computer, avoiding his narrow-eyed scrutiny. “Good. I learned a lot.”
She still needed to research how to get a marriage annulled in the state of Idaho, but she didn’t dare do it at work where someone—like a nosy partner—might peer over her shoulder or stumble across her search history. She’d do it tonight at home.
“No, I mean, how was Vegas? You didn’t spend all your time in the training seminars, did you?”
“That’s why I went.” She flushed in an inconvenient, frustrating way. As a cop, she could lie with the best of them—except today when the memories and the ache in her body were still so fresh.
“For crying out loud. You got a free mini vacation courtesy of the county, and you wasted it in a convention center? What’s wrong with you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Dedication maybe?”
“Stupidity maybe.”
She didn’t take offense. Partners for years, they called bullshit when they saw it. He had her back, and she had his. Of all the men she knew, she trusted Matt the most, although not unconditionally. He was married, and she happened to know he’d cheated on his wife in the past, so, while she relied on him in the field, she couldn’t vouch for his trustworthiness in all aspects.
“Spill it. What really happened?”
The phone rang. Saved by the bell! “Hold that thought,” she said, hoping he’d forget by the time the call ended. “Sgt. Kelley,” she barked into the receiver.
“Got an alien in the lobby.” The desk sergeant’s voice dropped. “Says his name is Tigre and, um…he’s returning your underwear.”
Her temperature shot from 98.6 to feverish in a second flat. How could he do this? She’d never expected to cross paths with him again, and for him to show up at the station? Oh. My. God. Was he trying to humiliate her? Was this revenge for her abrupt departure from his suite?
“I’ll be right up,” she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she repeated in a firmer, no-nonsense tone, “I’ll be right up.” She slammed down the receiver.
“What’s wrong?” Matt asked.
“Nothing.” She waved. “Nothing.”
He shot her his suspicious-cop look. “I’m not buying it.”
“Well, that’s good, because I’m not selling anything. I gotta go up front for a sec.”
She burst into the lobby half expecting Tigre to be waving her panties like a flag. She was relieved to see he carried a bag. Why in heaven’s name would he have told the desk sergeant he had her underwear? Did he have no discretion at all? She glanced at the crew behind the bulletproof glass. Luckily, the sergeant was on the phone, and the admin staff were busy.
“You ran out so fast, you left your clothes.” Tigre reached into the sack.
She grabbed his arm to prevent him from whipping out any unmentionables. “We can’t talk here.” She dragged him from the station and stalked to a bench away from the foot traffic entering the building. “You shouldn’t have shown up here!” she hissed.
“I thought you’d want your stuff.” He twisted his mouth into a wry snaggle-fanged grin. He handed her the bag. “Your dress is ruined, I’m afraid. Sorry.”
She gaped at him. “Have you lost your mind? I work here! It’s bad enough you dropped in at the station. Did you have to tell the sergeant you had my underwear?”
“He demanded to see what was in the bag. He insisted I run it through the scanner.”
Oh my God. Of course, anything a member of the public brought in would be run through the metal detector. And if she carried anything in through the public entrance, it would be run through again.
“Keep it.” Stomach fluttering with unmistakable stirrings of arousal, she thrust the bag at him. “And whatever you’re doing with your alien pheromone mojo, stop it.” She glowered and crossed her arms to hide her hard nipples. Her panties were getting damp. Think of something else. La, la, la, la, la.
She was thinking of something else—how he’d already embarrassed her in front of her colleagues and how she still had to march in front of the desk sergeant, the civilian staff, and her partner who would launch into an interrogati
on. Would the marathon of shame never end? The situation should have quelled all desire, but her traitorous body didn’t care about embarrassment. Her body craved sex again. With him.
His exotic musk weakened her knees and curled her toes in her sturdy shoes.
“I thought after we mated the lust would lessen, but it’s building again. As soon as I saw you, it started.” He parted his lips, and she’d swear he was sucking in air through his mouth. “I smell your desire. You’re affected, too.”
“Jesus Christ, don’t say that to me!” Her heated face flamed even more.
“I am stating a fact,” he said.
“Well, don’t.” She stomped her foot. Just when she’d started thinking maybe he wasn’t so bad, maybe her animus was misplaced, he zapped her with his alien mojo again. The man was a menace to her peace of mind, her autonomy, her self-control, and her self-respect.
“It will worsen until it consumes us like before.”
The pronouncement horrified her—yet fanned the flames of desire. Her lust for him was akin to a shameful, secret kink. She hated losing control of her body, but the urge to surrender would not let her go. What would it hurt to give in once more?
“So what do we do about it?” she asked. “What’s the cure?”
“There’s no cure, but there is a treatment,” he growled.
There he went growling again! She planted her hands on her hips. “And what’s that?”
Topaz eyes gleamed wickedly, and a roguish smile spread over his sexy striped face.
Son of a bitch if her body didn’t respond, her pussy clenching and letting down such a surge of moisture, she feared her uniform might show a wet spot. Her knees wobbled. “That’s not going to happen!” Until he’d shown up, she’d been fine. More or less. Okay, not perfect, but on her way to recovery. If this was how she reacted when they were in close proximity, then she would keep her distance.
“Thanks for returning the clothes, but you didn’t need to do that.” She hoped he got the message he should not show his whiskered, striped face again. First thing when she got home, she’d jump online and figure out how to annul the marriage. Ignoring the pang in her heart, she whirled around and flounced toward the lobby.