50
993 Words
When he did, Morgan’s scent hit him like a wrecking ball. Fire and fever and a dark, searing need, laced with her normal perfume of exotic spices and warm skin and lush woman, all of it overlaid with the distinct, exquisite aroma of a female, aroused.
The Fever. She was deep in her Fever. And there was absolutely nothing more irresistible to an Ikati male than that. He staggered back, wide-eyed. An erection sprang to rock-solid life in his pants.
“Yeah,” Tomás said sarcastically, by way of explanation. “So there’s that.”
He swallowed, his throat like a desert. “Where is she?” he croaked.
“Bartleby’s with her,” said Mateo with a glance upward. “In the gym—”
“The gym?” He was aghast at the thought of her sprawled over athletic mats, writhing in unfulfilled need. “Why in God’s name isn’t she in one of the bedrooms, comfortable—”
“One of the bedrooms next to you?” Julian interrupted with a pointed look at the front of his trousers. “You think you’d have slept the last sixteen hours through that?”
Sweet Jesus, that’s what they’d been talking about when he came in. He couldn’t believe they’d stood it for as long as they had; a female in her Fever emitted an irresistible siren call to a male, a call that on a purely biological level was almost impossible to ignore. The Fever in females of young-bearing age happened once a year and lasted for three days, and mated or not, it was a dangerous time for the female and any nearby males, as well.
Competition festered. Fights broke out. Animal impulses reigned supreme.
In his colony any female in Fever was kept on full lock-down until it passed. And now—
“Bartleby’s been giving her drugs to keep her calm,” said Mateo. “And we’ve been doing a little self-medicating with our friend Mr. Daniels over there,” he added, glancing at a bottle of Tennessee whiskey on the counter. “And now that you’re up, we can clear out until—”
“I’m not leaving,” Xander said emphatically. “I’m not leaving her here alone.”
Silently they assessed him. “She’ll be with Bartleby, X,” said Tomás.
He met the male’s cool, tintless gaze. “I’m not leaving her.”
“We’ll be back in a few days,” said Mateo, trying to be reasonable. “She’s out of danger. You took down both those deserters who broke into the hotel room, and no one but us knows we’re here. She’ll be perfectly safe here with Bartleby for a few days—”
Xander turned to him, his gaze flinty. “You’re not listening to me. I. Am. Not. Leaving.”
Mateo stared back at him. “Because...?”
“Because she’s my responsibility.”
Mateo c****d his head. His eyes narrowed. “That sounds strangely familiar, Alexander.”
A rush of vicious fury, blinding white, and before he knew what he was doing, his fist connected with Mateo’s jaw.
Tomás and Julian jumped between them as Mateo snarled and moved to retaliate, his own muscled arm c****d back to strike, all of them shouting at once. It took a few minutes before they could be separated. Julian dragged Xander back into one corner of the kitchen, Tomás pushed Mateo, cursing, into the other. They stood staring at one another on opposite sides of the room, breathing hard, straining against the arms that held them.
“You did it again, didn’t you?” Mateo panted, flushed and angry, held tight in Tomás’s arms.
Xander bristled. “One more word and so help me God—”
“You bonded with her, you f*****g i***t!” Mateo shouted. “You bonded with your mark! Are you crazy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Xander snarled, straining against Julian’s grip. “I’m just doing my job!”
“Oh, yeah? Tell that to the arm that just took a swing at me! Tell that to your blood!”
Xander froze. “What did you say?” he whispered, staring hard at Mateo. All the light in the room was suddenly bright, so horribly bright—
“Get off me,” Mateo spat, and broke free of Tomás. He circled around the kitchen, throwing off heat and flexing his muscled arms, staring black murder at everyone and everything. Finally he turned and looked at Xander, and when he spoke his voice sounded like he’d been swallowing rocks. “Doc did a transfusion, direct from her to you. Yes,” he said when Xander went stone stiff. “Her blood. In you. That’s how you made it through.” He turned away, sat down heavily in the kitchen chair Julian had occupied, and stared down at the plate of cooling rigatoni.
“She did that? She did that for me?” Xander barely had the breath to speak. His body went completely lax. Julian released him but kept a wary hand on his shoulder.
Mateo glanced up at him. After a moment of weighted silence, he exhaled a heavy breath through his nose. “Yeah. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s bonded.”
“I’m not bonded,” he said, hoarse.
A bonded male was aggressively territorial, insanely jealous, and utterly devoted to his female. He would kill for her, he would die for her, he worshipped the very ground she walked on.
He didn’t feel any of that. He felt...not like that. He didn’t. He couldn’t.
“Oh, man,” said Mateo, glaring. “Shut the f**k up. Who do you think you’re talking to here?”
Xander stared at him, his mind an utter blank. “I don’t even know her.”
“Apparently you know enough. When her blood hit your system you jacked like you were riding the lightning.”
- Writer
