by Cara Bristol
Because of the long-term consequences. Growing up, she’d vowed not to relive her mother’s life, racking up a string of unhealthy relationships. Her mother had become infatuated with every man she dated, only to be devastated when his interest waned and the man of the hour dumped her.
Kat’s father had been one of those men, except for a recurring reprise—he’d drop in from time to time for a roll in the hay, causing her ever-hopeful mother to believe this time he’d stay. As a child, Kat had fallen for the pretty lies, too, soaked up the doting-daddy act when he’d take her to play at the park, to hike at Tubbs Hill, to stroll the Art on the Green, and to visit Silverwood amusement park, bragging about his beautiful little girl to everyone he encountered.
Years later, a mature Kat had connected the dots. All the people he’d shown her off to had been pretty young women. Playing the single, loving dad card, he’d used his daughter to pick up chicks. Like her mother, Kat had been an object to be used and then discarded.
She needed a relationship grounded in reality and based on love, mutual respect, companionship, shared values. Lust was ephemeral; it waned. And when the sexual heat cooled—as her father’s actions had proved it did—if you had nothing else going, then you had nothing else.
She’d almost walked the same road her mother had. Like her mother, captivated by charm and a smooth line, Kat had been seduced by the feral fever. She had to be stronger, think with her head, not her hormones.
He sighed. “All right. You can use the med pod.”
“You said it wouldn’t be effective.”
“I don’t think it will, but you’re human. As you said, feral fever isn’t natural to your species, so maybe it’s worth a try.” He shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes. “Is this a trick?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were so against it before. Is this your way of enticing me to spend time with you? Luring me in with the promise of using the med pod?”
“Why would I wish to spend time with a woman who can’t stand the sight of me? Even if she is my genmate and wife.”
He was twisting the whole situation. “It’s not like that,” she denied.
“Do you want to use the med pod or not?”
If she said yes, he’d perceive it as an affront, a rejection, an insult. She didn’t wish to hurt him, only to free herself from the obsession, to stop reliving their sexcapade every second of every day, to forget how good it felt to have him moving inside her, to become her normal, rational self again. Was that too much to ask?
She nodded. “Yes. When? How soon can we do it?”
His lip curled. She’d hurt his feelings as she’d feared.
“Right now—while everyone is at the Whitetail. We’ll be alone, so no one will butt in or ask uncomfortable questions. My brothers and their genmates mean well, but they can be as nosy as herian.”
She empathized. She’d dealt with Matt. The fewer people who knew of their situation, the better off they’d both be. “All right. Let’s do it.”
“Leave your vehicle at the lavender farm gift shop, and I’ll bring you on the hover scooter.”
“I’ll follow you over.” Then she could leave as soon as they were done.
He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head at the gleaming futuristic vehicle. “The hover scooter doesn’t run uncloaked on the open road. Once I switch on the refracting screen, you won’t be able to see me, so you won’t be able to follow.”
“Fine.” She agreed with a nod.
“I’ll meet you at the gift shop, then.” He strode to the scooter, his gait long and rolling, predatory, almost like…a tiger.
She marched to her truck. When she turned around, the scooter had vanished. Only the displacement of the air as it zoomed away proved it had been there at all.
She pulled into the gift shop lot and parked next to the building. Through gaps in the trees, she spied cars rushing by on the highway. She didn’t see Tigre anywhere, but she got out of the truck and locked it.
She spotted him then on the opposite side of the parking area where thick trees blocked the view from the highway. He beckoned her. “I’m keeping the hover scooter shielded for as long as possible so no one sees it.”
She trotted over to him.
“As soon as I drop the screen, I’ll get on, then you climb on behind me,” he instructed.
“Got it.”
The hover scooter materialized, he hopped on, and she swung her leg over and scooted as far back on the banana-shaped seat as she could. His furry tail curled around to the front. She remembered the different textures of the dark-and-light bands. His penis also had been striped with concentric rings serving almost like ribbing—
Stop! Don’t think about that. This was why she needed the med pod to fix things. Turn down the heat.
The air pressure changed, getting heavy then light. “Are we invisible now?” she asked.
“Yes. You won’t need to hang onto anything. The force field that renders us invisible will keep you seated and won’t let you fall off, even if we make a sharp turn.”
Did he tell her that so she wouldn’t be inclined to hold onto him? She dug her fingers into her knees.
The scooter lifted off, and he guided it onto the gravel road then onto the highway and picked up speed. The scooter whizzed by traffic like it stood still. If another cop could see them, they’d be pulled over for sure. She wondered if the scooter could be tracked on radar. “You are aware you’re exceeding the speed limit, right?”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
I might frisk you.
She squeezed her eyes shut against images of Tigre leaning against the scooter with legs spread as she patted him down, slipping her hands under his….stop it! Her eyes sprang open, and she fidgeted against the sensations coursing through her. A vibration in the seat hit her in exactly the right spot, which was to say, the wrong spot. Her arousal arced to a fever pitch. If they’d been in bed, she’d be saying, now, now, now. It didn’t help that she was bathed in his erotic musk.
She gritted her teeth. “How much longer ’til we get there?”
“I thought you worried we were going too fast?” he taunted. The scooter slowed.
Jesus, what if she had an orgasm while riding the scooter?
He veered off the highway onto a side road and picked up speed again. “Not much longer,” he said.
A few eternal minutes later, he pulled up to a white clapboard farmhouse nestled among the evergreens. A wide porch wrapped around the front and sides of the two-story home. A two-car garage connected to the house, and, across the gravel compound, sat a pole barn. The scooter glided over to it, and the wide door rolled up automatically.
“The door is on a sensor programmed to our respective scooters,” he explained. “We keep them out of sight, so we always park them inside.”
With relief, she slid off. If she’d spent another couple of minutes on that vehicle…her pussy pulsed.
“How many of you live here?” She tried to distract herself with chitchat.
“Five of us. Psy and Meadow. Inferno and Geneva, and myself. Before they mated, Wingman, Chameleon, and Shadow also lived here,” he said as they strode to the house. “We originally rented the farmhouse because it had many rooms and my brothers and I could each have a bedroom. We liked living here so much, we made the owner an offer and bought the farmhouse a few months ago.”
“Sounds like you intend to stay.”
They climbed the steps onto the porch. “Earth is our home now.” He unlocked the door and motioned for her to enter.
Besides a long sofa, the huge living room accommodated a half dozen man-sized leather recliners and stout oak coffee tables sturdy enough to use as footrests, which they obviously did, judging from the scuffs. The easy chairs faced a massive stone fireplace over which hung a theater-size TV set. The room was casual, comfortable, its masculinity softened by colorful pillows, nubby afghans, and
vases of flowers. The wives had put their feminine touches on the place.
She moved closer to the mantel to peer at a framed photo of all six men. Her gaze homed in on Tigre. How handsome he looked with his whiskered, striped face, his saber-toothed rakish grin. She’d never seen him so carefree and happy. With her, he was somber or angry. Do I do that to him?
She dragged her attention away from the disturbing idea to study the other men. She recognized Inferno, Psy, and Chameleon, whom she’d met. The angel-winged being was Wingman. She’d watched him perform aerial acrobatics at the Lavender Fest. By process of elimination, the last man in the photo had to be Shadow. He resembled a human, but she would bet he had some kind of alien power or attribute like the others. “Nice family,” she commented.
“The med pod is through here,” he growled. Was that shyness, discomfort she heard in his rumble?
She realized she was learning to distinguish between timbres conveying different emotions. She might have misjudged him by always attributing anger or criticism to his growls.
Looking like a cross between an MRI machine and a coffin, the huge cylindrical med pod dominated the dining room. She peered through the clear top into the bedlike interior. “It’s big!”
“It has to be to accommodate an Avian’s wings. You ready to get started?”
“That’s why I’m here,” she said. Is it wrong to want my life back? To think clearly without the distractions? This head-pounding, body-throbbing relentless arousal wasn’t normal.
He touched a few buttons on the control panel, and the lid rolled back.
She rubbed her sweaty palms together. “I climb in?”
“Yeah. The lid will close. I’ll operate the pod from this panel here. The programming will diagnose and treat any anomalies.”
“How long will it take?”
“About a minute if the scan is all clear, a couple of minutes if it detects an illness. If that happens, it will treat the infection and rescan, so the process will take a little longer.”
“Are there any side effects to the treatment?”
“None you need to worry about,” he said with a trace of bitterness and kicked a footstool next to the pod. “Let’s get this over with.”
Disheartened and now a little uncertain, she climbed in and stretched out, folding her hands on her abdomen. I’m doing the right thing! Besides, it might not work. According to Tigre, it won’t.
“You should place your arms at your sides,” he said. “You don’t have to remain completely still, but you shouldn’t move around too much, especially during the treatment phase.”
She lowered her arms.
The transparent lid slid shut, and she fought with the doubts now assailing her. What was she supposed to do? Suffer the feral fever indefinitely? Maybe forever? Sexual desire was great—until it never ceased. Existing in a state of perpetual arousal was uncomfortable, distracting. And worse, it had affected her decision-making. She’d married a near-stranger while under the influence. She’d become short-tempered at work.
So, why did she feel an anticipatory sense of loss? I only want off the roller coaster, to regain control. Is that so wrong? Her pussy felt swollen as did her breasts. She pressed her thighs together. The short time in Tigre’s presence had worsened the carnal ache.
She bit her lip. He’d been rather vague on the possible side effects. She was a human in an alien machine. What if the med pod eradicated all sexual urges? What if the med pod wiped out her libido completely? What if she developed a sexual dysfunction? Couldn’t get aroused? Or couldn’t orgasm?
Shit! Maybe I didn’t think this through.
She sniffed, her head stuffy with pent-up tears. A scratchy thickness lodged in her throat.
“Scanning now.” Tigre’s voice boomed into the pod.
The machine hummed, and then, beginning at her feet, a bright blue-white light crawled up her body. The beam reached her upper chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut before it got to her face, reopening them when the brightness against her eyelids eased. After a roundtrip scan, the light extinguished, and the unit whirred as it processed the information.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
What did that mean? Her heart raced.
“You’ll need to hold still for treatment,” Tigre said somberly.
Treatment? So the machine could cure the feral fever?
A barrage of emotions lodged like a solid lump in her throat. She swallowed and blinked away tears. Did this mean she would never get that kick of excitement when she laid eyes on him? Never get butterflies in her stomach when he growled at her? Sex with him had been crazy-good. Off the charts. A multi-orgasmic high. Literally.
Was she being hasty to eradicate that? Maybe she should treat the symptoms with more sex like he’d suggested. Didn’t conventional wisdom say the simplest solution was usually the best? The lust had eased up after the all-night Vegas sex fest. Maybe regular action would control it. Marriage went further than she wanted to go, but why not take him as a lover?
“No—wait!” she cried as a burst of pink light exploded in the pod, and a robotic arm shot out and jabbed her in the thigh. There was a cooling sensation as a drug spread through her bloodstream.
Screwed up again. She had no one to blame but herself. He had attempted to dissuade her, but she’d insisted on getting her way. “Are we done? Can I get out now?” Close to tears, she sniffed. I got what I asked for. Except now, she didn’t want it anymore.
She wondered how long she had before the treatment took effect. Her breasts still ached. Her pussy still seemed to be throbbing.
“One final scan,” he said tersely.
The machine hummed, and the blue-white beam swept over her once more. The light flashed three times and then went dark.
“It’s done,” Tigre growled.
The lid rolled back. Kat climbed out.
Chapter Eight
Desire sizzled clear down to the bone, a lust he knew Kat was experiencing, too. On the ride to the farmhouse, the fragrance of her arousal had infused his senses. He could taste her. The scent of their mutual lust soaked the air. Ecstasy and release could be had for a touch.
Yet, she continued to fight the feeling, to reject him. She’d leaped into the med pod with an eagerness that sent shards of pain ricocheting through his heart, delivering the certainty she would never willingly choose him. And while they would forever be bonded by genetics, that wasn’t enough for Tigre. He longed for a genmate who loved him, not one whose biology compelled her to mate. Sex should be enjoyed, not regretted.
He almost hoped the med pod would eradicate the feral fever. As a Saberian, he would never be free of it, but if she was, the feedback loop would be broken, and perhaps someday he might be able to seek happiness with a woman who voluntarily chose him.
But when the med pod beeped an alert, the bottom dropped out of his world, and his longing and wishes snapped into crystal-clear focus. He had no interest in a transitory sexual relationship with another woman. He only wanted Kat. He would wait as long as he had to and accept her on any terms he could get her. Genetics had bonded them, so someday she might come to care for him.
Tail flicking with agitation, he forced himself to read the diagnosis on the screen.
Kat was injected with the antidote and rescanned. The top opened. She climbed out, her expression despondent and regretful.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her bottom lip quivered. “I thought I wanted the feral fever gone, but I guess I didn’t.”
“You don’t?” He drew a long breath while he waited for his heart to resume beating.
She shook her head. “I messed up. Is there a way to get it back?”
He glanced at the screen. Results were written in ’Topian; she wouldn’t be able to read them. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Bad. Sad. Guilty.”
“Is that all?” He stalked toward her. “You don’t feel the rush of heat, the throb
of passion? You mean your sweet pussy isn’t getting wetter? Your nipples haven’t hardened to aching buds?” He settled his hands on her waist and gazed into her eyes.
Her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened as enlightenment dawned. “I’m still infected?”
A slow smile spread over his face. “Yep.”
“B-but…the injection. I had something, didn’t I? What was I treated for?”
“A rhinovirus.”
“I had a cold?”
He nodded. “The start of one.” He pulled her hard against his body and planted his mouth over hers. He swept his tongue inside her mouth. His glands reacted with a surge of hormones, and she moaned and melted against him, raking her short, harmless fingernails down his back. Her arousal bloomed and filled his senses. He growled in triumph and pulled her harder against his throbbing cock. Their tongues tangled in desperate hunger too long denied.
“Now, we’ll do this my way.” He picked her up and charged for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He burst into his bedroom and kicked the door shut. He dropped her onto the mattress and followed her down, bracketing her body with his forearms. He fused his mouth to her hers, licking her lips, stroking her tongue, feeding his need.
She tugged at his hair, fingers stroking and caressing. “You drive me crazy,” she whispered. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“You. Us. Together. I need you inside me—and beside me.”
“I’m here.”
“Not just for tonight or tomorrow.” An undertone of vulnerability struck him in the heart. Her chin jutted out. “I need you for the long haul.”
“Try and get rid of me.” Now that he knew she wanted him, he would never give up, never abandon her.
“I did try, didn’t I?”
“Way too hard,” he agreed.
She giggled then, and he smothered her laugh with another drugging kiss that turned his blood to liquid fire. He sat up to tug his shirt off and fling it away. Shoes, pants, and underwear flew.
Kat was in the process of disrobing, and he helped her remove the purple security T-shirt. The fabric tore.
