He was talking quietly again, but she could hear so much in the music of that whisper—fear, desire, concern and affection—that it made her want to purr at the same time it surprised her.
“Kind,” she managed to say, though it was surprisingly hard to speak. “You’re kind, and a little shy underneath your swagger.” Because she was Xia and there’d been far too much lately that was serious, she had to add, “And hot as the surface of a star.”
She wrapped her arms around him and twined her tail around his ankles. “I’d kiss you,” she said into his broad chest, “but my breath is going to taste awful to a human. It tastes bad to me and I’m an obligate carnivore.”
“I’ll chance it. Xia, I thought we’d lost you.” It came out as a groan just before he raised her face with one big, gentle hand and brought his lips to hers.
Oh stars. Oh marling stars.
He’d fallen in love with Xia, and he didn’t even know when it happened.
It wasn’t during that first insane tangle of bodies, with her lips around his cock, her sharp teeth just grazing that sensitive flesh, Rahal fucking her while devouring him with those intense green eyes. Desire wasn’t the same thing as love, though it could balance the pain that was often part of loving someone.
When had he come to care enough about Xia that his heart, not just his cock, ached for her?
Maybe it was that first reconnaissance mission that turned into a brawl, not the brawl itself but the banter and real conversation before and after. Learning that she was clever and silly, dangerous and soft, reckless and street-smart. She was the deadly weapon Rahal made her out to be but at the same time a pretty, fun-loving woman who’d never had a girlhood, so was still childlike in the best ways.
Maybe it happened when he stupidly poked and prodded and opened wounds she didn’t know she had, and he realized that some things were more important than the contract—such as getting to the truth behind her horrors.
Maybe he fell the first day at the spaceport, when he saw her in the Malcolm’s gangway like a luminous Clariito rose glowing in the smoke-filled air. Only this Clariito rose had petals of sharpened titanium steel, beautiful and deadly.
She’d laugh loud enough to fill the vacuum of space with her giggles if he compared her to a Clariito rose or told her any of the other crazy, poetic things that were zinging through his head. She might laugh if he even mentioned love. Xia knew love in the deepest, most instinctive ways; she was willing to die or kill to keep her family and friends safe. But the kind of love he was thinking about, the kind that encompassed sex and hearts-and-flowers romance and so much more, wasn’t going to be her thing, not when it was a big deal for her to play with the same person twice.
He wanted to tell her anyway because there, on the battered rooftop, under Cibari’s polluted night sky, red-tinged with dust and explosives, and marred with searchlights, kissing and caressing a woman covered in someone else’s blood, his soul felt luminous.
Which was not something Karn Anders would say. Even if he felt it, even if he fell for someone as hard as Cal had fallen for Xia, he’d play it cool, quip wittily, ease his way into a declaration—and when he did it, it would involve a trip to a pleasure planet and an expensive, romantic meal for two, someplace with a view and actual, not metaphorical, Clariito roses with half the wealth of Cibari in the form of jewelry wrapped around the bouquet.
Cal couldn’t do what Karn would do. It wasn’t his style and certainly not within his budget.
If he declared himself as himself, as Cal Janssen, private lawman, the woman he’d fallen in love with would know he was a filthy liar who’d started relationships with both her and Rahal as part of his job.
This was not going to end well, at least not for him.
The felinoids would probably be fine in the long run. Felinoids were tough. The fact that Xia was still functional was proof of that.
That didn’t mean either Rahal or Xia would be happy to find out he was here under false pretenses, and the longer he stayed, the more likely they were to find out. Even if they never did, he’d just feel more like a pile of glaspoid crap the longer he kept up the deception.
Not to mention the fact that the longer he stayed, the more entangled he’d find himself. The more it would hurt everyone including himself when he finally wrenched himself away.
He had to get off-planet before he did any lasting damage and while they still believed he was Karn Anders. It would be completely in character for Karn to break things off just when they were starting to get serious and move on to the next planet, the next deal, the next sexytime with the next beautiful being.
He’d get Xia back to Rahal and her people, come up with an excuse to leave. Or maybe just sneak off like a thief in the night.
Which he kind of felt like. It would be the first time ever Cal had abandoned a contract. He’d had cases that he couldn’t solve, sure, but he’d always wrapped things up with the people who hired him, even if the wrap-up meant he wouldn’t get paid more than his initial retainer.
This time, he was not only not going to offer a wrap-up to his contact, he would send their retainer credits back. He wouldn’t put Xia in further danger.
Even while he was trying to think through his options, he was kissing Xia, touching her.
Trying to imprint her in his brain and on his skin because this would probably be the last time.
Even under the stench of the city night and the reek of blood, he could smell her distinctive scent of fur and cinnamon and, layered with that, her desire. She smelled like a woman aroused, a woman whose need might take over at any second. Her arms were tight around him, her claws pricking at his ass through his trousers. That sensation made him remember Rahal’s claws at his throat, how it turned from threat to erotic caress.
Even with his hearing augmentations, he didn’t hear footsteps, let alone the whir of a pod.
All he heard was Rahal’s distinctive laughter rolling over the rooftops and pouring over his skin. “Crisis averted, I see,” Rahal said, still laughing.
Cal jumped and racked his brain to come up with a proper quip for the occasion, or maybe even something serious.
But Xia, leaving one hand on the small of Cal’s back, turned to Rahal. “I know you,” she said, wonder filling her voice. “You of all people should understand how the dark got into my bones. Karn was helping fight it back.” Still touching Cal, she extended a hand to the warlord. “And you can help too, my beautiful, bad Rahal.”
She smiled, and Cal froze in place, thinking her smile was so brilliant its glow would disclose their location to the whole galaxy.
“My very own bad kitty,” she chanted softly, her voice singsong and dreamy. She turned the devastating force of her smile toward Cal. “And my very own bad human. My very own carnal catnip. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!”
“We’ll help you fight the dark all you want, beautiful.” Rahal sounded serious for once. “But let’s get you home first.”
Rahal took Xia’s hand and led her to the sleek little flyer ornamented with that garish seal of state. As he did, Cal relayed to him, “Something was going on there that I didn’t get. I don’t think it was just trauma talking.”
All of Rahal’s attention appeared to be on Xia, but his words rang strong in Cal’s head, “She just claimed both of us as mates. I don’t think she knows it, but she meant it. I can tell from her intonation and the set of her tail that she’s still messed up. In the state she’s in, she might not remember in the morning, let alone know what she’s saying now.”
Cal thought glumly that might be a good thing, at least where he was concerned. If she didn’t remember she’d admitted her feelings for him, it would hurt her less when he vanished.
Now he definitely had to disappear.
The woman he was in love with loved him, or at least thought of him as a mate, which might not be the same thing, b
ut sounded pretty marling permanent.
This should be a good thing. Only she’d fallen in love with someone who didn’t actually exist.
Given the woman he’d fallen in love with, this wasn’t just a clusterfuck, but a potentially lethal one.
Safer for all of them if he made a quick exit.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The pod had just levitated and pointed back toward the palace when Rahal got that distracted look that told Xia he was being relayed.
Of course he was. He was the warlord, someone important on this crazy planet. He had things to do.
She didn’t mind because for a second his green eyes turned soft and misty, and it reminded her of the way he looked after sex, before all the hard intensity and manic humor returned to his face.
She hadn’t even thought about that hint of softness before now, but suddenly it seemed like the most important thing in the galaxy, so she studied his face.
That was how she knew something was terribly wrong, even before his expression changed to one of a fury so fierce it both frightened and aroused her.
He turned to Karn, and though his body was tight with rage, his claws working, his tail puffing, his voice was amazingly calm as he said, “Nitari Belesku and Karn the Viking have infiltrated the palace and are attempting to kill my people and Xia’s. So far not too successfully, since they’re grossly outnumbered, but they’ve taken a few of my guards down and broken my secretary ’bot. I’m not happy about any of my team getting hurt, not even the ’bots. Which leads to the very interesting question: If Karn the Viking is at the palace teamed up with everyone’s least favorite genetically engineered human, who the marling stars are you?”
Xia waited for him to defend himself, to say that the man with Nitari Belesku was obviously an imposter.
That had to be what was going on, right?
Instead, the man she knew as Karn the Viking looked at the floor for a second, and then up, meeting Rahal’s fierce eyes. “My name is Cal Janssen. I’m freelance law, but I’m not here to take down either of you or anyone you care about. I thought I was here to reunite Xia with her surviving family on Mrrwr, but I’ve put together clues that make me think the person who hired me may be a threat to Xia. You both owe me a good ass kicking but wait until after we get those driftdwells out of the palace. I’ll explain everything, but not when there’s work to do.”
Everything hit Xia at once, a concussive blast of rage, fear, hope and need to taste Nitari Belesku’s blood again. Rita was at the palace and Xia wasn’t there to keep Rita safe.
Okay, Rita had Drax to look after her, and Drax had wings, size and training, which made up for not being as fast as a felinoid. On the other hand, Belesku actively hated him, as opposed to just having him on the must-die list because someone had paid her.) But Buck had probably been drinking in the supposedly secure palace. And her fathers were distracted by working with the rescued children, who had been through enough without this.
Belesku hadn’t just tried to kill Drax, hadn’t merely taken a contract on her friends.
Belesku had killed Xia’s parents.
Though she’d also saved Xia’s life for her own reasons.
And someone, some relative Xia didn’t remember, may have survived that deadly party.
In the face of all that, the fact that one of her lovers wasn’t who she thought he was seemed inconsequential. That he’d pulled it off with her and Rahal, who were smarter, trickier and more paranoid than most people? Impressive.
She turned to the man she’d known as Karn the Viking. “You’re not a nashbet. Nashbets don’t pretend to be infamous arms dealers, use that lie to fuck the biggest badass warlord on one of the most violent planets in the galaxy, not to mention me, and then help the people you’re deceiving to clean up real bad guys. I don’t know who you are or what you are, but you’re certainly no nashbet.” She extended her hand to him. “Good trick. I respect that enough that I’ll listen to your story. I may still dismember you, but if you help us stop the real Karn Anders and that Belesku bitch from harming my family, I’ll do it quickly enough it won’t hurt much.”
Karn/Cal shook her hand solemnly. “Can’t ask for more than that under the circumstances.”
He still had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen in a human face. The planes of his face were still perfect.
She hoped his story was convincing or at least funny. She really didn’t want to kill him.
He’d come to mean a lot to her, maybe more than that. Whoever he was.
So had Rahal, which was a little freaky too, but at least she knew who he was.
Most of Rahal’s attention was absorbed in maneuvering the pod insanely fast through the city’s airspace, flying low enough that he was dodging buildings as well as other crafts. He’d actually buckled his safety strap, which Xia figured wasn’t his usual style, any more than it was hers.
Without turning again, he hissed under his breath then said, “What Xia said. I ought to gut you. But right now we need you.” He turned and flashed a brief terrifying, sexy smile. “And part of me still thinks you’re too pretty and entertaining to kill without at least hearing the story.”
“Yeah,” Xia conceded, “there’s that.”
He just looked ashamed. Karn, or at least Cal’s version of Karn, was a swashbuckler, a rogue, and he would have had a witty response to whatever crazy situation he found himself in. The real Cal must be the tough but also sweet, almost-dorky guy she’d kept seeing under Karn’s playboy exterior. He was stunned out of witty comebacks for the moment.
What the hell was a man like that doing on this messed-up planet, let alone in bed with her and Rahal?
She was glad he was on the planet at the moment, though, however he got there. Whatever his real name or profession might be, the man she’d come to know as the Viking was handy in a fight, and she had a feeling that was about to become super useful.
Rahal flew right over the usual landing area on the expansive roof, the one with its own bar, bigger and far spiffier than those in many full-scale spaceports, and the exotic gardens surrounding it. Xia made a little “what the hell?” noise, but didn’t actually ask. Which was good, because he didn’t have time or brain cells to spare for an answer. He’d even turned off his neurorelay so he wouldn’t be interrupted. He was eager to get an update about what was happening in his palace, but this approach would be a little tricky.
He maneuvered between two outbuildings that appeared to be almost touching. The holo field that created the illusion presented no obstacle, but the gap between the buildings really was tight, and the next bit would be worse. He had to concentrate.
Which meant not scheming too many steps ahead about how to deal with murderers who’d walked in the front door as calmly as you please, presented proper credentials and then started shooting. Which meant not thinking about how the guy who’d gotten under his skin, maybe even into his heart, was an imposter, and how Xia’s story was even more dark and complicated than he already knew.
In the moment. In the moment. He used to be able to reach that space when he was fighting regularly, the place where his body knew the next moves without conscious thought. It was harder now. Getting to be the warlord had taken both brains and violence, but actually running the district he’d won involved far more thinking than fighting. His combat instincts had become a little rusty.
Where was the damn secondary pod landing? It was a disguised tunnel, hidden somewhere in the overgrown “wild garden” behind the palace—but his underlings changed the garden around regularly to disguise it better. They’d done the last alterations so well he couldn’t spot the entrance.
His body tensed. There were people in his palace who needed to die, and others who needed his help, and he was delayed.
“Don’t overthink,” Xia said, laying a hand softly on the back of his neck. “You know what to do. You just d
on’t know you know.”
He took a deep breath. Of course. It was…
“Over there, I think,” Not-Karn said, pointing.
There it was, plain as the double suns of Zathos, now that he’d been clued in.
“How did you know that?” Rahal hissed as he banked sharply to the left.
“I didn’t. But I know a rich criminal built the place and, based on my experience, he’d probably have a secret entrance or six. You’re known as a brilliant strategist and a paranoid son of a bitch, so you’d have made them even better. So I looked for little anomalies in the terrain. It’s beautifully done.”
Rahal nodded in acknowledgment. Despite the gravity of the situation, and the amount of focus he needed to land in a tunnel, he smiled to himself. Not-Karn might be a lawman who’d lied his way into Rahal’s arms for reasons that were still unclear, but he managed to make “paranoid son of a bitch” sound complimentary, almost tender. As if the guy’s name and story might have been faked, but the connection they’d developed was real despite that.
Not the time to ponder that too much. But he did need to respond to one thing. “Son of a queen, please. That’s the feline equivalent.”
“That has a much nicer ring to it,” Xia commented. Then she leaned forward, and her touch changed from a light caress on his neck to an urgent grip on his shoulder. “Rahal, pull up!” Her voice shifted to a panicked yowl. “You’re coming in at…”
Rahal maneuvered the pod into the hidden tunnel and onto the underground landing bay.
“…well, I guess it wasn’t a bad angle after all.” Her voice was quavering, but it was the shakiness he’d heard after sex or a particularly good sparring bout, as if she were still rounding up stray brain cells. “Can we do that again when we don’t need to hunt down assassins? Under other circumstances that would have been exciting.”
“Wasn’t it exciting now?” Rahal asked as he unbuckled the safety strap. He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it confirmed in that breathy voice. He wasn’t turned on by danger like his brother—Drax was probably hard as osmium right now—but there was something about a landing like that…
Bad Kitty Page 17
