Because as long as he lived, he'd never forget being blasted by every moralist and scandal vid-channel for what he'd supposedly done. And she'd been the one to write the lies, and see that they were published.
She made a small, choked sound, and he shot to his feet, the slimy weight of something he chose not to acknowledge pressing down on his chest.
"Gotta tell you, Roxie," he drawled, giving her a wink. "I remembered you as a plump kitty, but you've blossomed. No wonder I didn't recognize you. Still lying for a living, though, right? Not much of a stretch from gossip vids to PR."
Without another word, he sauntered to the nearest door. Where it led, he didn't care, as long as it was away from her… and away from what he'd just done.
This was supposed to feel right, like justified vengeance. Instead, he felt as if he'd just wounded a kitten.
Eight
Hours later, in her small employee stateroom, Roxie faced the holovid cam on her com-link.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out. She knew she looked awful, with her eyes swollen from crying, a red nose, and no cosmetics. But who cared? It wasn't like he would ever find her attractive again, anyway.
But he'd had his turn, and now it was hers. Even if he refused to watch and listen, she'd have her say.
"Charlie—Chaz," she said, her voice quiet and hoarse. "I don't know if you'll ever watch this. That's your choice. But I just wanted you to know that the... the things I said in that holovid story—about the way you treated Mixi Fellura? I believed them all, Charlie—I mean, Chaz. I did not make them up to try and make a name for myself, the way your lawyers said."
She cleared her throat. "You probably don't know that Mixi is my cousin. We played together, went to school together since we were kittens. And even though she was never very nice—no, never mind, you don't care about that. Anyway, when she wanted something, she could be very convincing.'
'She was hysterical when she came to my apartment. When she finally calmed down, she told me that she'd had to break up with you, because you'd—well, I won't go into the details again—that you'd been abusive... and cruel. She was—she was good, Charlie. She made it sound so real. She gave me details that were very realistic."
She looked down. "Although, I—I take full responsibility. I should have done some checking, talked to some of your other, uh, ex-girlfriends. Tygress knows there were plenty of those. Anyway, I found out the truth when everyone else did—when Mixi ran off to a resort with her mother until the gossip died down. Not that anyone believed that I didn't know—especially your lawyers. You've got some real catamounts on your team, Charlie.'
'So anyway,' she said, looking resolutely at the camera. "I just...I just wanted you to know that. And... and that I didn't know who you were when I agreed to be your, um, shift mate. Because I told the truth about that, too. I didn't want anything from you except what we had. So..." She shrugged. "Good-bye, Charlie."
She broke the link quickly, hoping he wouldn't see her eyes flood with tears all over again.
Chaz was packing to leave—or rather, he was watching his robo-concierge pack his things—ready to leave Quantum. He'd shower-dried and dressed, in one of his favorite lii silk knit loungewear, along with a cata-fur vest, because he felt chilled, as if he was coming down with something. Something that made his chest ache. He rubbed his hand absently over it, feeling the whisper-softness of his vest.
Then he leaned back in the divan with a sigh. Face it, his illness wasn't a virus, it was caused by emotion. He was heartsick, and angry and yet... he wasn't ready to fly away in his private cruiser. He wasn't ready to leave this ship.
He wanted resolution. He wanted Roxie 'Rouge' Fellura here in his suite so he could glower at her, and snarl and growl and carry on. And then fuck her into oblivion. Fuck her right out of his head, and out of his heart.
When his comlink chimed, he nearly didn't answer it.
Ives was supposed to monitor all incoming links, and after the debacle of letting in Chaz' old nemesis as a shift mate, both Tygers knew they were on borrowed time as part of Chaz entourage. They were thus minding their tasks as personal assistants very carefully.
When the link chimed again, Chaz snapped, "Ives. I don't want to be bothered. What part of that is so difficult to understand?"
"Uh, Chaz," Ives said, sounding unusually subdued. "I think... you're gonna wanna take this one."
"What, is it from my folks?" Was something wrong at home?
"No, but... just watch. And listen good, yeah?"
With an impatient sigh, Chaz ended their link and opened the other.
He froze when he saw Rouge—no, Roxie facing the camera in what was obviously a vid-message. Looking pale and tear-stained and good enough to lick all at the same time.
He sneered, ready to break the link, then sighed again, and sat back. "All right, have your say," he muttered, even though she couldn't hear him.
He watched, and listened. And watched it all over again.
Then he watched the holovid he'd taken of her pleasuring herself, because he'd asked her to. He saw again that bright, trusting smile, and then the way she arched when she came, and then heard her sweet giggle, giddy with pleasure and with the naughtiness of what she'd thought was a sexy game.
And then he watched her face pale with horror at the sight of him in his normal state. And he turned up the volume to hear her whisper, "You! No...no! It can't be."
He stopped the vid.
One thought filled his mind. She hadn't known who he was at all? She hadn't known that Charlie Crawfur was Chaz Jaguari.
His family name truly was Crawfur. He'd been named Charlie after his great-grandfather, and because his mother thought first-century names were starry.
He'd taken the stage name of Chaz Jaguari because his first agent had assured him it was sexy, and he'd kept it because once he became a star, it was an inexorable piece of his public persona, his brand.
But in the mating shift, A Tyger or Tygress was physically unrecognizable as him or herself, except to intimates. And Roxie didn't know him well, except whatever she'd seen of him on the holo-vids. He scowled as he realized he didn't even know if she listened to his music. Maybe she hated it.
What kind of cosmic coincidence would that have to be for the two of them to be thrown together again, like this? Well, not that big, as they were both Tygers, Quantum was circling in and out of the Cattarus system for the summer, which made it an easily reached haven for him. And a natural choice for her to find a job, after she'd lost any chance at employment on Bryght, in journalism at least. And his lawyers had made sure of that, because he'd told them to.
Shame enveloped him again, this time the slimy weight so heavy he felt as if he would sink right through the air-pillowed lounge, and hit the floor. Which might be exactly what he deserved.
Great Tyger, he'd threatened to shame her before her home planet, all over again. He was such a drooling canine.
He had to go and find her, and reassure her that he'd never let the holovid of her out of his possession. Then, he'd beg for her forgiveness. She'd been the sweetest shift mate he could recall, even if she was also responsible for one of the most embarrassing periods in his life.
But perhaps, if he could believe her story, she was not nearly as responsible as her sly cat of a cousin, who'd made up the story of abuse to punish Chaz when he told her they were no longer an item. And when he remembered the favors and baubles Mixi had coaxed from him while they were together, this made it easier to believe that her younger, naive cousin would also fall for her tale of woe.
He'd been so full of himself in those days, certain of his place at the pinnacle of fame, enjoying tossing expensive gifts to those who pleased him, because it inflated his own ego. Mixi had played him, so why wouldn't she have done the same to Roxie?
Anyway, he certainly no longer suffered any ill effects from the story. Once his lawyers and publicists were through, he'd come out looking like a musical icon beleaguered by spiteful females
. Or, one spiteful cat and one gullible kitten.
He shook his head and smiled to himself. His Roxie had definitely written herself into a black hole. But he was going to let her explain it all again, and this time, look into her eyes as she spoke. If he could just spend time in her presence, look into those clear, golden eyes... then surely he'd know if he'd done the right thing in pushing her away, or quarked up royally and needed to fix it.
Yes, he'd let her speak. And if she convinced him, he would rescue her from her exile.
His mood buoyant, he linked her and waited.
She didn't answer. Not that time, or any of his other attempts in the next several moments.
He linked Ives instead. "Get her for me," he ordered. "I want to speak with her."
"Sure, boss," his cousin said with a wink. "Glad you're seeing reason. She's a sweet kitty."
However, a short time later, after Chaz had paced the suite, attempted to distract himself by listening to the demo of a possible new song, Ives linked him back, looking wary.
"Sorry. She won't stop to talk to me or Ives. Just sails right on past, polite but says she's real busy. And when I followed her, and mentioned you—" he winced. "Yow. Thought she was gonna claw me, I jest not. I ain't getting in the way of an angry Tygress, even for you, cuz."
Nine
Roxie knew only one thing—she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and get through her first day back at work. And then the next, and the day after that.
Because she might feel as if she'd been mauled by a Tyger, her heart left in bloody ribbons, but she could not lose this job.
So she smiled, and was courteous to the new wealthy Serpentian she'd been assigned to greet and get settled in her platinum suite, even if the horrible female made Roxie want to scream and claw and bite—hard.
And she would ignore Chaz Jaguari's two minions, or cousins, or whatever the hells they were, when they pestered her, trying to get her to speak with him for some unknown reason. No. She'd apologized, she'd explained, she had refrained from destroying his fancy suite in a fit of grief and betrayal-fueled fury after he prowled away and left her.
But she could not bear to face him again. Not so soon, and maybe not ever again.
With all this on her mind and her heart, standing in the foyer of the platinum suite right next door to the one in which she'd trysted with Chaz, Roxie felt like an automaton as she smiled and gestured gracefully to the arboretum filling one side of the suite.
"As you see, you will feel as if you are sequestered in a Pangaean garden," Roxie told the striking, Serpentian redhead posed in the doorway, regarding the suite with a jaded eye, while three other Serps in subdued clothing huddled quietly behind her. "With all the amenities of LS Quantum, of course. Your staff will be quartered directly to the rear of your suite, and ours will always be available as well."
Ms Lessurant gave a sigh and advanced into the room, her orange silk draperies fluttering about her. "I suppose it will have to do."
She flicked her hand, and her staff hurried into the room behind her, ushering four robo-concierges with a train of luggage hover-carts.
As the final cart floated by, Roxie sniffed and winced at the faint but disagreeable odor. It smelled of dank earth and small, dead creatures. What in the name of the Great Tygress did the woman have in there? Some strange pet perhaps.
The train disappeared into the bedchamber, and Lessurant turned to Roxie. "Now, girl, tell me who else is aboard this ship."
Roxie's smile froze. "Madame wishes to know if any of your own acquaintances are aboard?"
"No, you tiresome girl. Who are the celebrities aboard? Who is going to make a voyage on this gigantic crate worth my time?"
Roxie could feel heat building inside her, curling up through her and igniting like a fire in her chest. This creature spoke to her as if she was a robo-servant. Did she not realize she was dealing with a Tygress?
"I'm sure I don't know," she said crisply. "Perhaps you'd like to peruse the list of performers in the various lounges. We have a number of renowned acts slated for the Cosmic Cabaret. Lorena McKitt will be appearing this evening."
The Serpentian let out a hiss of displeasure. Two of her staff peered through the open bedroom doors, eyes wide. One of them shook her head at Roxie behind her employer's back.
"No, no," Lessurant said. "I've heard... certain rumors that Chaz Jaguari is on board. Find out for me at once, and perhaps I won't cause you to lose your trifling little job." Her eyes narrowed, like those of a raptor about to spring.
Only she didn't scare Roxie. All the events of the past day and night flamed up inside her in a great column of fire so hot she would not have been surprised to see smoke billow around her. She drew herself up and looked the wealthy serpent in the eye. Then she smiled, showing her teeth.
"You want Chaz Jaguari? Go find him yourself," she snarled. "I don't stalk celebrities for anyone."
Roxie turned on her heel and stalked from the room, ignoring the hiss of displeasure behind her.
But she did so with her a growing unease, a sense that she teetered on the edge of some powerful emotion, or event from which she could never return unscathed.
It was his fault. He'd awakened her to the world of sensual abandon, then cast her out. Of course, she was off-kilter. She was angry, hurt. It was nothing more.
Chaz was pouting. He knew it was childish, and yet he simply didn't care enough to stop. So he lay in the luxurious, but lonely pool in his arboretum and glowered at the flowers dangling overhead.
How was he supposed to make things better with Roxie if she wouldn't even listen to him?
Burl and Ives were stalking her now, keeping track of her whereabouts for him, but Chaz had told them not to interrupt her work. He didn't need getting her fired added to his debit.
But he could use a bit of cooperation. This reminded him of how enthusiastically she'd cooperated right here in this pool, and his cock stiffened predictably. He scowled, too aggravated even to give himself relief with his own hand.
Here he was, arguably the most famous male in the galaxy—well, maybe except for that new human singing star, Contessa Lo—and he couldn't even make one Tygress see him.
When his agent's stern, holovid face appeared before him, Chaz nearly dove under the water and hid. Instead he sighed and opened the link. "What is it now?"
"We have a problem," Gray said.
"I knew that," Chaz muttered. "But it's my problem, not yours." Not like he could send his agent to make Roxie talk. And even if he could pressure Quantum management, Chaz hadn't sunk quite that low...yet.
"What?" Gray asked, then shook his head. "No, we have a serious problem. You've been outed. Everyone knows you're aboard Quantum."
Chaz sank, swallowing a huge mouthful of warm water. He came up coughing and sputtering. "What?" he croaked. "By whom?" Please don't let it be by a vengeful tyger kitten.
"Who do you think? Your cousins, bragging in one of the bars." Gray glared. "I told you they'd bring you nothing but trouble."
"Oh, quarking hells," Chaz groaned. He cast a hunted look at the suite's main doors. Any moment now, the paps or their spy-bots were going to start chiming at his door, demanding an interview. Not to mention his fans.
"Exactly. And now that everyone knows you're on board, you're going to have to go public, or risk coming across as a prima catta."
"What you suggest I do, parade around the ship and let the tourists rip off chunks of my hair and clothing, as they did on Serpentia?" Okay, it hadn't been that bad—it had only been one sleeve and one tuft of hair, but it had been scary as all hells. He still shuddered when he remembered the females screaming at him and each other, in a mob frenzy.
"No, of course not. I'm suggesting a carefully—very carefully—controlled environment. Quantum has a platinum-level cabaret lounge they're willing to turn over to you for a performance or two."
"Yeah, I just bet they are," Chaz muttered. They'd be creaming their pants at the idea
of his performing here.
"Strictly controlled. Highest level security. Every being in the audience carefully vetted. You choose the numbers you perform. You choose the length of the concert, and what happens afterward. It will be fabulous PR, and by the time you're finished performing, your cruiser will be docked there, ready to whisk you away, back to Bryght. It's a win-win."
Chaz was still stuck on the words PR. Quantum's PR meant Roxie. A chance to see her, to be with her. His heart pounded in a fierce rhythm. His eyes narrowed and his jaw set.
"I need... cover," he said. "I need a woman. I need a—a fiancé." He smiled at the blossoms overhead. Yes, that was brilliant. And she'd go for it, because she had a soft heart, his Rouge.
"Oh, for Tygress' sake," Gray sighed. "Not this Fellura female again? Remember the trouble she caused you last time."
"No, it will work," Chaz said, his mind racing. "She'll be at my side, pretending that we're together exclusively. I'll tell the paps that we want privacy, new love, all that." And he'd get a chance to spend time with Roxie. To talk things out. Find out why she'd hated him so much then that she'd believe her cousin's lies... and if she hated him again now, after how he'd behaved.
He vaulted out of the pool and paced nude and dripping across the carpets, raking his wet hair back from his face. "I want Roxie, or I won't perform."
Gray looked like he had developed a headache—a bad one. "Fine. Whatever you want. Oh, and there's one more thing. Ship security has informed us that Paala Lessurant is on board."
"What?" Chaz snarled, turning on his agent. "And you're telling me this after I've agreed to the shows...why?"
"Because, she's only one being, and she's a female," Gray said. But his gaze flickered in a way that said he wasn't as sanguine as he wished to appear.
"Only one being, and a female," Chaz repeated. "She's also a ruthless, amoral Serp with unlimited funds, who has in her employ minions who will do her bidding no matter what she asks. And she wants me in ways I do not care to contemplate."
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