Seized & Seduced

by Shelley Munro

  The taunting tone had Lynx’s hands curling to fists. Yes, he was remorseful. His urgent need to nail a curvy barmaid had landed them in this mess. His chest tightened, his breath dragging over scent receptors and filling his nose with Shiloh’s musky fragrance.

  Aw, phrull. He backed up until the bars of the cell halted his retreat. His feline rolled beneath his skin, a snarl of fury echoing through his mind.

  Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  Unable to hold his breath any longer, Lynx sucked in and relaxed when the air held only a smidge of Shiloh, the stench coming from the captives in neighboring cells muting the dark temptation.

  “Swarrk. Swarrk. Swarrk!” An unknown, unseen creature cried out, the pain and terror in the tortured sound lifting the hair at Lynx’s scruff. So much pain. Confusion. So much terror. He knew how they felt. Even though they couldn’t see each other, couldn’t communicate, the same despondency writhed inside him.

  Freedom. If they managed to get out of this mess, he’d never take liberty for granted again.

  “Cat got ya tongue, Prince?”

  “Shut it.” Lynx scanned the area beyond their cell, tension bleeding from him when he found it guard free. He turned back to Shiloh, fury a heavy drum in his veins. Before the thought formed, he sprang halfway across the cell and pushed his face into Shiloh’s. “Don’t call me that.”

  “If the robes fit…” Shiloh sneered, his top lip curling upward, sardonic through and through.

  “Enough with your damn attitude.” Lynx gnashed his teeth, his canines shoving into prominence when his fury escaped his tight mental grip. They were arguing when they needed to stand firm, but hellfire, guilt played with the mind.

  A laugh emerged from Shiloh, throaty, mocking, and Lynx snapped his mouth shut, confining his temper to an aggravated scowl. So far they’d hidden their feline natures, both sensing if their captors learned the truth they’d never escape. Ignoring the demands of the feline, though, was becoming harder each day since he and Shiloh were active males in their prime, used to shifting at will. And sex…well, the less he thought about that the better.

  “We have to hold it together.”

  “You think?” Shiloh’s green eyes bled into cat, the pupils narrowing to black slits. A low snarl escaped Lynx before he bit off the telltale sound. “Truth hurt or are you afraid they’ll cast you as chief stud at the auction since you have the royal breeding?”

  Another damn secret. Their cell was thick with them and tension arced in the confined space, tempers flaring at the slightest provocation.

  Lynx shot a quick glance at his friend, his heart giving an extra hard thump. Shiloh was a big, muscular man about five inches taller than his own six foot. The beginnings of a beard had appeared on his hard jaw, the last application of stop-beard having ceased doing its job. His mouth…no! Lynx wrested his gaze away from his friend’s strong features and landed on his hair. Shiloh’s black hair, already long at the beginning of their capture, reached halfway down his back. Wild and untamed yet sexy…

  Phrull it!

  Lynx turned his back to stare at the still woman.

  Only the Gods knew for sure how long they’d inhabited this cell since the cycles blended into an endless passage of time. Their attempts to mark the passing cycles and rotation portions on the wall was stymied by the guards who sanitized their cell with a foul-scented spray that made them both sneeze.

  Lynx stole another look at Shiloh and caught him staring. Both averted their gazes, the tense silence like a heavy weight pressing against their cell. They both fought it, ignoring the monster in the room, but the simmering awareness between them had grown worse.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of his craving, the constant gnawing for physical contact with the man who’d been his best friend from childhood. He sure as hell wasn’t brave enough to broach the subject.

  He sucked in a breath, attempted to center his mind in the way Shiloh’s father, the head of security on his birth planet Viros, had taught him as a child. The air puffed back out in a harsh sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. How many times do I have to say it? I made a mistake. It’s my fault we’re in this predicament.”

  “Just remember you owe me for keeping your identity quiet.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Despite the inherent threat, Lynx wasn’t concerned. Shiloh was frustrated and the aggravation ignited his temper.

  Lynx glanced at the woman and when she remained unmoving, he began to pace a circuit around their cell, his feline restless and struggling with confinement. Sighing, he stalked past their sleep pallets and glanced back at the woman and the calibore guarding her person. The guards had attempted to separate the two and given up after much cursing. “The calibore hasn’t left her side.”

  Lynx caught the scowl Shiloh flung at the woman. He saw Shiloh open his mouth and drag air across his receptors. His friend gave a tiny shudder, and Lynx understood since uneasiness stalked him too.

  The musky scent filling their cell acted like a drug fogging his mind and stirring up his feline. An echoing tremor swept him, his edgy mood urging him to action. He stalked a second circuit of their cell.

  “We need to keep alert in case we have an opportunity to escape,” Shiloh said. “No one knows we’re here, but perhaps the woman has people who will demand answers about her disappearance.” He slid a hand beneath his shirt and gave his chest a vigorous scratch. “They need to fumigate for biting insects.”

  “I thought it was just me,” Lynx said. “Both my chest and back are itchy as hell.”

  “It smells in here.”

  “Yeah.” Lynx caught a whiff of Shiloh as he stomped past to grip the bars of their cell. “It’s you.”

  Shiloh whirled around. “No it’s not.” He lifted an arm and sniffed the cat tattoo on his biceps. “Hell, you’re right. Maybe they’re putting it in our food.” He stalked over to Lynx, leaned over and smelled his neck.

  Lynx shuddered, both shocked and weirdly turned on by Shiloh’s proximity. He gasped when Shiloh grabbed his shoulders, the touch tearing down his body to pool in his groin. Whoa! That wasn’t normal. He shot a quick look at Shiloh, saw his friend’s fierce frown. Lynx had the weird urge to burrow into Shiloh’s embrace, to seek comfort and give in return. He wanted to place his lips…

  Aghast at the idea, he lashed out with his fist. He clipped Shiloh on the jaw and bounced on the balls of his feet, battle-ready.

  “What the hell was that?” Shiloh rubbed at his jaw. Then his mouth tightened, green eyes flashing irritation. He dropped his hands to his sides and prowled toward Lynx, a snarky smile twisting his lips. “Getting frustrated because you’re thinking about taking a trip to the wild side?”

  “You’re the one who does men,” Lynx spat, not even trying to pretend he didn’t understand. But the urge to run his hand over Shiloh’s back and lean into his best friend’s hard chest dominated his mind. He bunched his hands to fists while he groped to understand the compulsion. He could guess what his father and older brother would say, but he found himself staring at Shiloh’s sensual mouth, wondering if his lips were as soft as they appeared. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the weirdness. “I don’t do men.”

  Voicing the denial seemed to make it real. Heat pooled in his groin. His balls throbbed. When the craving hovered a tad shy of him taking action, he swallowed and shoved Shiloh so hard his friend rattled the cell bars.

  Shiloh came at him snarling, his canines pushing below his top lip.

  Lynx smirked and gestured with both hands. “Bring it.”

  Shiloh gaped then his roar erupted, vibrating his throat even as he sprang through the air, his fists swinging. His first punch struck Lynx’s jaw. Pain ripped through him. Instinct rammed his elbow into Shiloh’s belly then spun him away. Humor scrubbed at his angst. Damn if it didn’t feel good sparring with Shiloh.

  A low sweeping kick took his legs from under him, then Shiloh was on him, a hard muscled body pinning him in place.

  Lynx cursed, swung hi
s fists, grunting when he connected. In the distance, he heard shouts, feet running. He didn’t stop ramming his fists into Shiloh’s belly. His feline shrieked, demanding release. Claws bled from beneath his fingernails, sharp canines pushed into prominence.

  Without warning cold water struck him. He hissed and released Shiloh as it soaked into his tunic and trews and dripped down his face. His quick glance at Shiloh showed him just as bedraggled and wet.

  “Break it up,” one of the guards snarled.

  Lynx grunted and kept his face lowered, the strands of his black hair hiding any sign of the cat. Beside him, Shiloh did the same thing, his wet locks falling over his face to hide his eyes and mouth from their captors.

  The guard’s hard stare dared them to do more, and he appeared disappointed when neither of them moved. “Do again and I be chaining you like the fight-dawgs in the cell at the other end of the ship. Truth, aye?”

  Shiloh grunted, and the guard seemed to take that as agreement. He ambled away, scanning the other cells before vanishing from sight.

  Shiloh ripped off his wet shirt, and the damnable scent hit Lynx again, musky and so good he almost moaned aloud. Stunned he backed away to squat in the far corner of their cell, head bowed to conceal his reaction. He took shallow breaths through his mouth, limiting the drag of air across his receptors. But he could still smell Shiloh and the desires coursing through him scared the phrull out of him.

  Chapter Two

  Shiloh dragged his aching body into the opposite corner, chest heaving from exertion. Idly, he rubbed his fingers over an itchy spot on his chest. The prince had learned to fight dirty since their childhood scuffles, but so had he. Memories slid through his mind in a fast-moving vid. Days of innocent childhood fun and learning he’d become bodyguard to the second prince of the House of the Cat, following in the footsteps of his father and his older brother, Ellard.

  Shifting for the first time at twelve rotations and running in feline form with the prince. As they’d matured, they’d discovered females—in his case, males too—and indulged themselves, their friendship becoming solid and real instead of one of employer and employee.

  Neither enjoyed the strictures of prince and bodyguard, and they’d both rebelled, going into business together as interplanetary traders, much to the disapproval of their parents. A good life and one they reveled in until Lynx had dragged him into the middle of a honeytrap and imprisonment.

  Now their lives had changed into before capture and after capture. He was beginning to wonder if they’d ever escape. The guards remained efficient and never relaxed their security.

  But that wasn’t all. Shiloh bit out a curse, unable to look at Lynx because then he’d want to take the next step and join him in his corner. Touch him. Phrull, yeah. That would be a colossal mistake.

  Throughout their argument, the woman had remained silent and still. Now she moaned, tossing and twisting on her pallet. Shiloh went to her and touched her brow, ignoring the anxious hiss and the bared fangs of the calibore. Her forehead was hot and sweat beaded her skin.

  “Call a guard. There’s something wrong with her.”

  Lynx hollered from the cell door. Eventually a guard appeared, and Shiloh heard Lynx request medical assistance.

  Shiloh crooned to the calibore and the creature ceased hissing. “Easy, fella. Not gonna hurt her. Come over here so I can turn her over.” He held out his hand. The calibore whimpered but allowed Shiloh to stroke his head.

  Lynx strode over just as the calibore crept into Shiloh’s arms. “Still full of charm, I see.”

  “Male or female, they can’t resist me.” Shiloh ran his hand over the calibore’s back and it sighed and cuddled closer. “Can you check her out?”

  Heavy footsteps approached. “What be happening? What you do to her?”

  “Nothing,” Lynx snapped. “She’s sick. She requires medical help.”

  The scrape of keys in the cell door grabbed Shiloh’s attention. He tensed, gaze tracking the keys before lifting to study the guard’s face. The guards seldom risked opening the door because he and Lynx had almost escaped. Ah, they weren’t taking chances today. Three guards, and two of the three trained weapons on them, their expressions full of mean promise. A trace of smugness. Not good odds and the guards knew it.

  A humanoid ambled into the cell, a black satchel in his hand. His slouch and careful movement indicated age, and his amber eyes were shrewd in his bronzed face. No, a scaled face. He came from a reptilian race. Shiloh shot a quick glance at Lynx, saw the tension in his muscles, the prince’s watchful air. Slowly, he retreated to join Lynx.

  “Stay back,” one of the guards ordered.

  The calibore cried for the woman, but the guards didn’t react. They continued watching, weapons raised while he attempted to calm the calibore.

  “They’re not taking chances with us,” Lynx murmured.

  “Not this time.” No, they’d be silly to attempt anything now. Evidently Lynx agreed because he remained in place, vigilant but apparently resigned.

  The reptilian man crouched to examine the woman and hissed aloud when he saw her ripped trews and swollen leg. “Why didn’t someone tell me she was injured? I was told she was healthy.”

  “She darted during escape attempt. Thought she wake once the drug wore low,” one of the guards spoke for the rest.

  “She has a bite. It’s inflamed. Poison, maybe.” The elderly man rose and turned to face him and Lynx. “Did you do something to her?”

  “No!” Shiloh snapped. “We’re not murderers.”

  “We haven’t touched her.” Lynx placed a warning hand on his shoulder.

  “Doc, you help her?” one of the guards said. “Boss, he gonna be irate if we lose her. Need us a female and male to get good price, true.”

  Doc tsked under his breath and reached into his bag for supplies. Shiloh and Lynx watched, not moving from their corner of the cell.

  “Do not harm her. We have in two males, one female,” the guard said, his face flat and uncaring. “Truth, aye.” The gesture at his weapon left Shiloh in no doubt as to his meaning. The woman was valuable while they required one male to make a breeding pair for whichever collector purchased them. The other would go to the slavers.

  “If she’s so valuable, why is she in this cell?” Lynx demanded.

  “Need space for a new specimen. Once loaded, we be off for home. ’Bout time. I be craving me a bottle or two of verjuice. Can get on Manx Two.”

  With that info, Shiloh’s insides twisted into knots. Once they offloaded on Manx Two, the chance of escaping grew slimmer.

  “What happens when we arrive?” Lynx asked.

  Shiloh waited, silently applauding Lynx for asking the question. Information was power.

  “Special collector customers invited to view specimens. Arrive a few cycles after we land on Manx Two,” a hulking guard said, his expression screaming satisfaction. “Good sale. Extra wages.”

  “What about those not chosen by the special collectors?”

  “Open to all, aye. Collectors, those wanting slaves. Even circus owner comes.”

  Phrull, they could end up in a circus. Gods, he could wring Lynx’s neck for getting them into this mess. Of course, he might give in to his sexual inclinations before he choked his friend to death.

  When he found himself staring at Lynx, he ripped his gaze away. Focus on the woman. Maybe she’d clean up well and offer distraction.

  “Wait, what happens if the woman dies from the fever?” he asked. “You can’t put that on us.”

  The guard spokesman frowned. “Doc will fix.”

  A disdainful sniff came from the doctor, but Shiloh watched the man’s competent actions. His nose twitched at the sharp medical tang when the doctor soaked gauze to place on her leg. After cleaning the bite, he dressed the wound. The doctor gave her a shot before rising to speak to a guard.

  “If she hasn’t improved by next feeding, call me,” the doctor ordered.

  “Aye.” The guard
s straightened.

  The doctor hesitated then turned to Shiloh and Lynx. “The shot I gave her will make her sleep. She might act confused when she wakes. Call the guards if she requires further attention.” With a final curt nod, he departed.

  The guards backed from the cell, their shoulders relaxing once the key turned. He released the whimpering calibore and it scuttled over to the woman. The animal patted the woman’s blonde hair repeatedly, distressed at her stillness.

  “Steady, boy,” Lynx said, moving closer.

  Shiloh studied the pale woman. “Hope that doctor knows what he’s doing.”

  Lynx squatted beside her, speaking calmly to the calibore while he scanned the doctor’s work. He held out his hand for the creature to sniff. “I’m not going to hurt either of you. The leg looks okay. The doc might act for the enemy, but he does good work.”

  The calibore cocked its head, pointed ears twitching. It sniffed Lynx’s hand for a second before its tongue flickered out.

  Shiloh caught his breath at the grin that spread across Lynx’s face and the husky chuckle of delight. He’d been trying not to admit he found his friend attractive. And failing.

  Lynx’s face was one of beauty. Golden skin. Even features. Green eyes. Dark stubble because the guards didn’t run to stop-beard supplies. Sexy profile. Muscular body gained from hard physical work along with weapons training, and a cat tattoo on his right biceps, the same one that he bore on his own arm… Phrull!

  Shiloh wandered over to the woman. “I wonder who she is. Hopefully, someone is searching for her.”

  “With the way our luck is going?”

  Shiloh grunted. The calibore sniffed then reached for him. Grinning, he held the creature against his chest and watched while Lynx brushed the woman’s hair from her face.

  “She looks like a warrior,” Lynx said.

  Shiloh silently agreed as he scanned her body. She wasn’t as beautiful as some women he’d known, but she was sleek and muscular, her features bold and striking. Not his type. Probably not Lynx’s either. He glanced up at Lynx and found the prince watching him. A bolt of lust struck him so hard he gasped.