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  A climax was roaring in too fast, and all the visual stimulation wasn’t helping. He had a feeling that Rahal could hold out for a long, long time if it suited his purposes—like making Xia lose her mind with pleasure—and Cal didn’t want to look like a chump in comparison. He closed his eyes.

  The darkness only made the wet, raspy-velvet suction more intense. It accented Xia’s strangled noises of excitement, Rahal’s muttered curses that came out buffeted and softened by a purr, the sounds of the felinoids’ bodies slapping together and Xia’s mouth working on his cock.

  He had to…he had to…

  He tried to dredge up the schematic of his shuttle, but his mind was a blank except for pleasure.

  He racked his unresponsive brain. Stellar navigation tables, conjugations of Kethrani irregular verbs…there had to be some distraction that would help him last a little longer. Just when he’d settled on trying to remember the names of all the uninhabited planets in the Sigma Nu system, Xia circled his anus with her finger. A delicate touch without penetration, but that was all it took to blast him off.

  Xia continued to work on his cock, obviously savoring every drop. Or maybe it was just a teasing cat-girl thing because, sensitized as he was, her tongue was almost too intense on his head.

  Almost…but he certainly didn’t pull away.

  He opened his eyes just in time to see Rahal reach between his body and Xia’s to find her clit. “Now, kitten,” he growled through tightly clenched teeth. “Now!” The last now was a roar as Rahal came.

  Xia, releasing Cal from her mouth but not her hand, arched her body off the floor in a voluptuous arch and let out a surprisingly small groan as she, too, reached her peak.

  Cal was collapsed on the pillows, still riding a postorgasmic high, when Rahal’s deep voice cut through the haze in his brain. “So, Viking, I still want that meeting. Xia and I need about half an hour to clean up, then you and I should talk. And not just about weapons. You seem like the perfect person to help me with a new project.”

  “Right now, I’m not inclined to say no to anything you two ask of me,” Cal managed to say with a lazy, satisfied smile that wasn’t entirely faked, even if on the inside he was thinking, Oh marl. He’d been prepared to bullshit about weapons until red dwarf stars burned out. Even call in a few favors and have some delivered, if necessary. He just hoped he could bullshit convincingly about whatever he was now being called on to do.

  Chapter Eleven

  The blond called the Viking, looking a little dazed and clutching a bottle of Playtime Reviver 3100 (“Now with extra protein and vitamins E, G and S for sexytimes!”), had retreated to a waiting area outside. Xia and Rahal were alone again.

  Xia, for once in her life, was at a loss for words. Oh, there were plenty of words swirling in her head, but they refused to form into reasonable sentences. Stars, she’d settle for an unreasonable sentence or two, because she had no idea what was going on right now. Things were moving too folasking fast and for her to say that meant it was just under the speed of light.

  She couldn’t pretend that inviting the Viking, or whatever his actual-factual name was—she thought Rahal had said it, but she’d been a smidge distracted—to join them had been a bad idea. The human was a beefalicious morsel, rough-and-ready looking in his leather duster and snug, worn pants, but with a gentle touch that contrasted sexily with his appearance. His unexpected addition to their play had turned the situation from hot to something resembling the molten core of a star.

  She couldn’t even complain about the way Rahal had invited the other guy without running it past her first. She’d made the mistake of saying she’d do anything, no limits, to keep Mik and Gan safe.

  That may not have been her smartest idea ever because she didn’t know that Rahal wasn’t a mass murderer or something. In fact, she was pretty sure he was one, if you wanted to get technical about it. But for some reason, she trusted him.

  She trusted he’d be tricky and wily and take full advantage of her situation. She trusted that he’d be deadly to anyone who deserved it and only a little less deadly to people who might not deserve it. She also trusted that he’d keep his word about Mik and Gan, and that he’d do her no harm.

  She trusted him enough that she was actually looking forward to spending time with him that didn’t involve the kind of sex that fried all your synapses, and that scared her.

  What’s more, she kind of wanted to get to know the Viking better, figure out if she’d imagined those hints of a shy man underneath his confident exterior.

  It was freakish enough that she wanted to play with him again, try some of the things they hadn’t had a chance to do. But getting to know someone whose cock she’d just sucked? Weird.

  The silence was deafening. Rahal was doing what males of most species tended to do after sex, dozing.

  She had to say something, even if it didn’t help to ask any of the crazy questions in her head. “So, what’s for dinner?” she managed.

  Rahal did a very good job of pretending he hadn’t been asleep at all. “Not sure. Some kind of seafood, that’s as specific as I got. I can com down to the kitchen if you want details.”

  He rolled over, snapped himself up to a standing position and slinked over to Xia. “But I know what’s for dessert, maybe the appetizer too. And I’d take that appetizer now, tired or not, if I didn’t have to meet with Karn and then get some work done. Go catch up with your friends. I think they’re all watching holos in the screening room, except for Drax and Rita, who figured out the old ballroom has nice high ceilings and are either rappelling or making love.”

  “Or both at once, knowing them.”

  Then Xia paused and digested what he’d said. “Work? Ooh, if someone needs to be dismembered, I’ll help! Please. It’s good practice.” She bounced in place, her claws working in and out. A little useful violence would help settle her uneasiness or at least help her ignore it.

  “I wish.” Rahal sighed heavily. “This is work as in work. After Karn and I meet, I’m going over the agenda for our first-ever session of Siantana’s elected legislature, making sure the protection detail’s in place for the legislators and another protection detail is in place for the first protection detail. You know, dull but necessary stuff.”

  She blinked. “I never thought…I mean, don’t warlords fight? Kill people, or at least beat them down until they whimper and decide they’d be better off surrendering?”

  “That’s the good part of the job. But while my title’s Warlord, I’m more like a governor these days, with all-too-rare bouts of nice, satisfying violence. Now that I’ve won myself a district, I’d like to make it worth owning.”

  He scratched at the base of her tail.

  Xia arched her spine and purred. She couldn’t help it. Buck and Rita would do that for her sometimes, but it didn’t feel blissful in the same way from a surrogate big brother or a best friend as it did from a lover.

  If he’d wanted to distract her, it worked. But only for a little while.

  She’d been attracted to Rahal’s smoking body, elegant ears and tail, and pretty-pretty eyes. She’d been won over by his sensuality, his sexual energy, and by a sense there was more to him than a handsome surface.

  And now she was getting glimpses below the surface and was intrigued. Rahal had a fierce, bloody reputation. But he was more than that. First the fight against slavers and child molesters. Now this facet as well, the wanting to be good at running a district, not just snatch what he could and run.

  She let him hustle her off. She needed to check in and let Mik and Gan know they were off the hook. Besides, where there were holos there were snacks and after all that sexing, she was ravenous. But she was going to investigate the secret side of Rahal. Could he actually be a closet hero like her dads?

  Cal had been left to cool his heels in a high-ceilinged waiting area that wasn’t quite as glittery and gar
ish as the warlord’s office but sported what were either old-style cherubs or baby Banjalis riding puffy clouds on a blue ceiling. Sky blue, they called it in Standard, though the sky on Cibari was so reddened by smoke and pollution he doubted most of the residents had ever seen a clear blue sky. The heaps of sitting cushions were shades of blue and green, as if calculated to calm those left waiting.

  The calming effect might have worked better if there’d been actual chairs. The palace was clearly decorated for the felinoid ruler’s comfort, but felinoids were a minority on the planet. Would it have killed Rahal to get a few chairs for humans and other species less comfortable with sprawling?

  When the secretary ’bot (whose responses were suspiciously simple, as if it had been set back to its default program after the earlier shock) ushered him back into the gilded, musky office, he found himself yearning for those cushions.

  “Sit down!” Rahal exclaimed, springing to his feet and gesturing to a severe-looking, brushed-steel chair. Its sculptural lines and stark form contrasted with the over-the-top lushness of everything else in the palace, though it looked no less expensive. “I hate chairs myself, but I understand humans prefer them.”

  Cal sat gingerly, fearing a felinoid prank.

  A prank all right, but a subtle one. The chair’s proportions were slightly off, whether it had been made with another species in mind or simply with more attention to form than function. Cal had encountered cushier torture devices in his time.

  Only one way to play this, a knowing smile and a thank-you, then pretend he was perfectly comfortable and relax into the hard metal embrace.

  Rahal didn’t say anything, but the cock of his ears and tail let Cal know they were tied for this round.

  And that was pretty much how the negotiations for the (imaginary) arms went, with one, then the other, taking verbal control.

  Cal realized he was having more fun being Karn than he usually had as himself.

  It culminated in the moment when Cal as Karn stood and went to shake on the deal they’d just settled on, never mind that there was no chance the deal would ever be completed.

  Rahal winked, said, “I think we’re beyond handshakes,” and drew him into a kiss.

  Something in Cal’s brain snapped and he melted.

  Damnation and dwarf stars. The man who called himself Karn the Viking didn’t kiss like an interplanetary playboy.

  He kissed like he meant it.

  Sure, he was saying all the right playboy/arms-dealer things. His body language right up to the liplock had been that of a man who was open to playing but closed to anything else. But there was a kind of vulnerability to the kiss that didn’t seem right, based on what he knew of Karn’s reputation. Seemed like he was opening the blast shields to take in whatever Rahal might lob at him.

  Rahal had been with a few interplanetary playboys and playgirls in his time. Stars, before he’d gotten distracted by the game of taking over Siantana, he’d been one. That particular sport was all about skill and finesse, about holding back emotionally while giving and taking all you could physically. About skirting the edge of the black hole called “losing yourself in the moment”, but not getting sucked in.

  Karn seemed like he was going to dive into that dangerous abyss and Rahal wanted to follow him.

  Despite the fact the guy might be playing him.

  Or maybe because of that.

  It made things interesting, not being completely sure if the big blond human holding him so close was the same person he claimed to be. Karn the Viking had been so expert at avoiding retinal scans, DNA tests and other biometrics, or paying off people who’d managed to collect them, that it was tough to confirm or deny his identity beyond doubt. But Karn had been expected. He’d jumped right into a ménage with strangers without giving it a thought beyond “does this seem fun?”, which fit Karn’s reputation.

  This man talked the talk and walked the walk. He certainly could be the real deal.

  But while the two felinoids had been catching their breaths, Rahal received a neurorelay transmission from a friend off-planet, passing on a juicy, though unconfirmed, rumor—Karn the Viking had finally gotten arrested as part of an investigation into corruption in someone’s military. His friend had heard it from someone else who’d heard it from someone else and so on and so on, and no one could confirm what planet it happened on, let alone whether it was actual-factual truth.

  Similar stories had circulated before about Karn the Viking.

  Stars, he knew you couldn’t believe everything you heard. Rahal himself had died a couple of times, according to interplanetary gossip, and he was still twitching his tail and making trouble.

  So far, despite both Rahal and Xia being thoroughly distracted when he turned up, Karn had done nothing worse than drive him and Xia wild. Which, based on his rep, would be about what Rahal expected. If he’d been an assassin after Xia—another assassin, since the ones they knew about were female—or after Rahal, he probably would have tried to pop them both while they were distracted. There had been no suggestion he’d tried to attack the rest of Xia’s family. Drax was good enough he’d have been able to get an alarm off, even if he couldn’t take the guy out. Rahal figured the guards he’d assigned and the other Malcolm crew members were at least good enough to put up a respectable and loud fight.

  That meant nothing was wrong. Logic, right?

  Except assassins were sneaky, by training and inclination. It was their bread and butter.

  And the way Karn was touching him right now, the way he was throwing himself into the kiss, made Rahal want to believe in the other man’s story. Which meant his logic wasn’t trustworthy.

  Despite everything his body was screaming, he needed to take action.

  Rahal snaked his hand down the other man’s thigh, cupped his balls lovingly—and then popped his claws and pushed them against Karn’s most tender flesh. At the same time, he rested one razor-sharp claw against the other man’s jugular.

  “Who are you really?” he snarled.

  Chapter Twelve

  Every muscle in Cal’s body tensed but he tried to keep an amused, sexy demeanor as he responded, “The man who’s going to fuck you senseless as soon as you say go, unless you’d rather do the fucking. I usually wait until later in the game to start playing rough, but if that’s your thing I’ll roll with it.”

  Rahal laughed. Sharp claws pricked through Cal’s pants, stopping just barely short of doing damage to some of his favorite body parts. “Smooth. Very smooth. My cock likes your ideas and I do like playing rough when my partner’s in to it. But I’ve heard rumors that I don’t much like, and someone is trying to kill Xia and her people.”

  “That would not be me. If nothing else, it’s a marling waste to kill such a beautiful woman.” He knew he could say that with conviction because it was the simple truth—unlike trying to explain anything else that was going on, which wouldn’t be simple at all. He didn’t dare shrug, not with claws on his throat and balls, but he tried to put a shrug into his tone. “I might have sold those would-be assassins weapons at some point but the only time I kill someone directly is if they’re pointing a gun at me. There’s no profit in murder.”

  “That’s what Karn the Viking would say. But what do you say?”

  The claws pricked at his throat. The lance of hot pain, he thought, would have been erotic under other circumstances, circumstances that didn’t include a very real risk that Rahal would rip his throat out if he answered wrong.

  No answer he could give seemed like it would be right enough to convince a suspicious felinoid, especially when said felinoid wasn’t wrong to be suspicious.

  He thought fast and came up with two options: continue the Karn Anders bluff or give Rahal a version of the truth.

  Bluffing seemed marginally more survivable, and the best bluff in this case would incorporate as much truth as he could get awa
y with.

  So, with Rahal’s claws at his throat and balls, he forced himself to laugh. “Well played, Rahal. If I were an imposter, I’d be shitting my pants right now. As it is, I’m a little nervous. Especially after playing with your lover.”

  “I don’t care if you have fun with Xia, as long as you don’t try to kill her or her friends. That would irk me.” Rahal’s smile showed off his fangs. “As for the other, I enjoyed the show. You really are as good-looking as everyone says, and even better hung.” Rahal’s claws retracted, but his hands didn’t move. His grin was still alarmingly toothy and carnivorous.

  Keep talking. Keep calm. And stick as much as possible to subjects where he could tell the unvarnished truth. “I enjoyed being watched, not to mention watching you and Xia. The only thing better than a sexy woman giving you a blow job is having a hot guy fucking her while it’s happening.”

  The hand moved away from its ominous position on his throat. Cal had seen how fast the felinoid could move, so he didn’t imagine he was safe, but at least Rahal wasn’t seriously contemplating removing his vocal cords right this second.

  The other hand stayed right where it was, on Cal’s balls, but it shifted its position a little and what had been a threat became a caress.

  The way Rahal could segue from sexy to lethal and back to erotically teasing was mind-boggling by human standards. Definitely freaky.

  And terrifyingly exciting.

  Cal’s body seemed perfectly happy to accommodate Rahal’s shift back to seduction, but that was just the endorphin rush and his own desperate attempt to keep the conversation positive. Right? At least he’d keep telling himself that and maybe his bewildered cock would take the hint. Though it would probably help his cock to relax if he could talk about something other than the awesome and misguided sex they’d shared.