Iroth: Kirenai Fated Mates (Intergalactic Dating Agency) Page 2

  A familiar “baroo!” split the air, and Maise turned to see a Redbone Coonhound leading a guard toward them.

  “Pepper!” she called, scanning the dimness behind him for her friend Lora.

  The coonhound pulled the man straight over and began nuzzling Bixby.

  “This dog belong to you?” the guard asked.

  Heart thundering, she said, “She’s my friend’s.”

  He shoved the end of the leash into Maise’s hand. “Here. You can take her then.”

  “Wait, what about—” But the man was already striding away. She scowled. “Asshole.”

  The dogs had to sniff each other, and within moments, all four leads were tangled. Maise moved to a grassy spot nearby to give the animals more room to play. At the edge of the police tape, someone else was arguing about having her cell phone taken, and a woman in a black strapless dress sat at a table with her face in her hands.

  A tall, blue, bare-chested alien approached, escorted by two suited goons. A familiar auburn-haired woman in a crimson gown limped beside him.

  Pepper bayed in recognition, and relief flooded Maise at the sight of her friend. “Lora! Over here!”

  Lora was a police officer, and if she had anything to say about things, nobody would be locked in a secret government facility. Her friend met her at the police tape. “Thank God you found Pepper.” Lora bent to let the wriggly whining coonhound nuzzle her ear. “Can you watch her for a bit longer? I’m on duty.”

  “Sure.” Maise had faith that her friend would soon set things right. “Whatever I can do to help.”

  Maise went back to the grassy area with the four dogs. Pepper and the labradoodle resumed rolling around, chewing on each other's ears. Usually, Bixby liked to be in the middle of the fray, but she snuggled up next to the Great Dane who had laid down with his massive head morosely on his front paws. Bixby kept checking in with Maise, as if expecting her to do something.

  Lowering herself to sit cross-legged on the ground next to the giant dog, Maise gingerly rubbed behind his ears. His fur felt sticky and the slight odor of men’s cologne hung around him—either the mess he’d rolled around in had been wearing it, or his owner was male. What if his master was someone who’d melted? Her chest tightened and tears pricked her eyes. “You worried about your master, Big Boy?”

  He sighed, a shiver rolling across his sleek gray coat.

  The other dogs wore themselves out, eventually lying down around her on the lawn. Maise grew sleepy, too, and lay back on the grass, wishing she could get out of this constricting dress. She startled awake at the sound of Lora’s voice calling for attention nearby.

  “We’re going to speak to everyone individually about the events this evening,” said Lora, addressing the gathered women. “Then we’ll let you go home.”

  Maise headed over, and Lora reached for Pepper’s leash. “Thanks for taking care of her, Maise. I’ll talk to you first.”

  Several women grumbled about playing favorites, but Lora led her to a small table at the bottom of the stage stairs.

  Maise looped the leashes of the other three dogs on the railing before joining her friend. “Do you know what happened to Georgie? I haven’t seen her.”

  Their friend had planned the entire auction, but Maise hadn’t seen her since the disaster. She hoped Georgie had been able to get away before things took a turn for the worse.

  Lora rubbed the back of her neck. “She’s, ah, on a space ship with an alien prince. I glimpsed her when Zhiruto Facetimed them or whatever aliens call it.”

  “A space ship?” Maise gasped, glancing toward the dark sky. The faintest glow of dawn lit the horizon. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so. At least, Zhiruto says she’s not in danger.”

  Maise turned her gaze back to her friend. This was the second time Lora had mentioned that name. She thought of the shirtless alien Lora’d been walking beside earlier. “Who’s Zhiruto? Your alien bodyguard?”

  Lora flushed. “He’s working for the prince. I’m just his NSA liaison.”

  Maise wiggled her eyebrows. Leading an investigation with a hot, shirtless guy was probably like a dream date for Lora. “Ooh la la.”

  Lora crossed her arms and scowled. “There are more than a dozen dead aliens only footsteps away. Definitely not the time to be thinking of hot guys.”

  “You’re right.” Maise dropped her gaze guiltily. “This entire thing is awful.”

  “Let’s get on with a few questions so I can let you go home, okay?”

  Maise nodded.

  “Does everyone here seem normal to you? I’m looking for anyone who seems less shocked than they should be. Or more shocked. Anything strange at all.”

  Maise thought for a second. “I think people are acting pretty normal. Heather’s been crying non-stop. Meg’s her usual bossy self. I suppose Tammy’s been a little quieter than usual, but I think she’s in shock. I overheard someone say she and her date were kissing when it happened.” She glanced to where poor Tammy sat with her knees up and a wool blanket over her shoulders. “You should probably talk to her next so she can get out of here.”

  “Thanks, Maise.” Lora rose. “I’ll let the guards know you’re clear to leave.”

  “Thank you. Call me when you get a chance.” Maise gathered the dogs and moved to the guard with the confiscated cell phones. She’d put the labradoodle and the Great Dane in the Yappy Hour kennels until she could swing by the shelter and borrow the chip scanner. Hopefully, she could get them back to their owners.

  A man in a suit flashed her his NSA credentials, warned her not to speak to the press, and gave her a number to call immediately if she began to feel ill or unusual.

  “You mean if I feel like I’m about to dissolve into a lump of Jell-O? Because I’m pretty certain no one had time to make a call before they dissolved.”

  The guard looked at her blandly. “If we thought you were in danger, we wouldn’t allow you to leave.”

  Yet another guard escorted her to her Jeep in the parking lot and left her to load up the dogs. The back of her Jeep wouldn’t hold all three animals, and she had to put the massive Great Dane into the passenger seat. It was now four in the morning, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She headed to the Yappy Hour and pulled up to the service entrance. With the enticement of a handful of kibble, the labradoodle pranced happily into a kennel. The Great Dane wasn’t so easily swayed.

  “Come on, Big Boy.” She rattled a stainless steel dish. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  She could swear he shook his head no as he sat on the floor between the cages. He lay down with his head on his front paws.

  Bixby nosed him, then began licking his face. Maise frowned. Bixby wasn’t a licker, but it was what she’d been trained to do during her service days to alert her owner of an oncoming seizure.

  What if whatever he rolled in is what’s making him sick? “Oh, God. Bixby, no. Get back.”

  She pushed the sheltie aside. She had to get that stuff washed off before he became more seriously infected or infected anyone else.

  Tugging on his leash, she got him to his feet and led him through the kennel area to the washing stations. She had the Dane hop onto the table and tied off the leash, then stepped out of her restrictive gown. There was no one else here, and Ted wouldn’t be in until nine.

  Dressed in nothing but a strapless bra and panties, she turned on the water.

  3

  Iroth’s breath caught at the sight of the female’s bare skin. Long, golden brown legs. A smooth flat abdomen with a perfectly dimpled navel. Pert breasts covered with brown fabric that he yearned to push aside so he could gaze at what lay beneath. Kuzara, how he wished he didn’t have to hide behind his current shape.

  The Great Dane had been an excellent choice for a disguise, despite how difficult it was to maintain a quadruped. He’d even felt a bit smug when the prince’s bodyguard had looked straight at him and moved on. But as the night progressed, he’d begun feeling unwell. Keeping his m
atrix compressed into a smaller size was causing his exterior to leak interstitial fluid like a film of sweat, and he could no longer shield his Iki’i. His head throbbed, and he shivered with the need to resume a more familiar shape.

  “It’s okay, Big Boy. You’ll feel better after we get you cleaned up,” the woman called Maise said as she filled a bucket with soapy water.

  He was glad the universal translator seemed to be working now, but despite the female’s words, he felt her worry like a knife. Maise was as kind as she was beautiful. Her gentle touches behind his ears and the soothing tone of her voice made him want to curl up around the fullness of her body and enjoy her in other ways.

  She poured warm water over his neck and shoulders. The soap smelled like sun-warmed citrus flowers, mingling with her feminine musk as she leaned close to scrub his coat with a red, nubby thing. Her touch along his back and over his sides felt so good. Under other circumstances, he would’ve enjoyed such attention. Returned it by stroking his palms over her curves, licking the tender spot between her breasts, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close…

  Kuzara. The core of his matrix roiled, seeking to resume an easier shape. His mouth was dry, and his eyes felt like they might explode from the growing pain in his head. He had to expand, to release himself from the confines of this quadruped body. The pressure was something he could no longer deny, witness or no witness.

  With a shake that rolled through his shoulders and down his spine into his legs, he let himself shift.

  “What the…” Maise dropped the nubby thing and stepped backward until her legs bumped the low table behind her.

  He knelt with both palms planted against the stainless steel surface. Sudsy water dripped down his arms and legs, and he glared at his clawed blue hands, trying to make them more human. He’d transformed into his Fogarian body, an adult version of the one he’d grown up using, and was powerless at the moment to shift to a less familiar form.

  “Help me,” he said, staring downward at the table. If he spoke directly to her, she’d see his fangs, and he wasn’t certain how she’d respond to that.

  Maise hesitated only a heartbeat. “What can I do?”

  “Water.” His mouth felt dry, and it was the first thing he thought to ask for.

  He snuck a glance as she hurried over to a desk where a monitor and keyboard were nearly buried in papers. She bent to open a small cube beneath it and returned with a plastic bottle. Uncapping it, she held it out. “Here.”

  He lifted a hand to take it and nearly fell on his face as his other palm skidded across the soapy table.

  She reached out and caught his shoulder, helping him stay upright. She withdrew just as quickly, her uncertainty clashing against his Iki’i.

  “Thank you,” he said, still not looking at her as he settled back on his heels and tipped the bottle against his lips. The cool liquid burned all the way down his parched throat.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her attention fall to his lap and realized his genitalia were completely exposed. Luckily, the Fogarians were similar to humans in overall anatomy. But her interest made his cock stir.

  She made a choked noise and her golden skin flushed russet. Grabbing a nearby cloth, she clutched it over her half-clothed torso, then pointed to a hose nozzle at the head of the table. “You can rinse off if you want.” She grabbed another handful of cloths. “And here are towels.”

  Disliking the way his hand shook in front of her, he reached for the nozzle. He felt woozy, unbalanced. He wanted her to see him as strong and in command. Squeezing the handle released a warm spray, but his exhaustion was too much. He dropped the nozzle, letting it swing back against the pipe with a clang, and fell forward onto one hand.

  “Shit,” she breathed and stepped forward.

  Warm water sluiced over his shoulders and back. He closed his eyes as her fingers threaded the back of his curly hair and brushed along his thick sideburns with the spray, helping remove the soapy residue.

  She set the nozzle back in its holder and draped a towel over his shoulders, rubbing gently to dry him off. Her touch was comforting. Even more so was her concern for him as she helped him step off the table and wrap a towel around his waist.

  “Please tell me what’s going on,” she said. Though her voice and actions seemed calm, he sensed her inner turmoil, the trembling uncertainty of facing the unknown. He had to admire her strength.

  He’d intended to slip away when her back was turned, and hadn’t bothered to fabricate a cover story, but since it was obvious that he’d need to spend a little more time with her while he recovered, he knew he had to come up with something fast—if she learned he was a smuggler, she’d turn him in.

  Stalling for time, he answered, “My name’s Iroth.”

  “Okay, Iroth. We need to get you to a doctor.”

  “No. Human doctors can’t help me. Please, I’m in danger. No one can know I’m here.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  He expected her to be wary, suspicious. But his Iki’i only sensed confusion and concern. A desire to tell her the truth infused him.

  But he buttoned down the urge. No matter how understanding she seemed, once she understood what he was, she’d turn on him, just like everyone else. Most burendos were detected early and eradicated—he’d survived by being quick on his feet. And he had to do that now if he wanted to keep surviving.

  He concentrated hard on retracting his pointed teeth, making his Fogarian face as human as possible before meeting her gaze. He’d heard the woman who interviewed Maise say that there’d been an assassination attempt on the prince. Perhaps he could use that information to keep her silent. “I was a decoy for the prince. He suspected an assassination attempt might happen.”

  Her marvelously green eyes widened. “Why didn’t you come forward during the investigation?”

  “I was instructed not to reveal my true identity to anyone,” he lied. “The royal family doesn’t know who to trust.”

  She covered her mouth, her distress palpable even without his Iki’i. “My friend Lora is helping one of his bodyguards. Do you think she’s in danger?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sure she’s fine as long as she doesn’t know anything that might compromise the prince.”

  Nodding, she offered him another towel.

  He wrapped it around his waist, marveling at the ease of this conversation. He couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone as inherently trusting, as innately good, as this human female. Guilt ebbed up his spine, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  But if he wanted to survive, he had no other choice but to deceive her. “I need a place to recover until I can get back to my ship.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “My apartment’s upstairs. You can rest there for a while.”

  He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  Leaning heavily on her shoulder, he exited the building and ascended an exterior staircase, clutching the towel around his waist. Her small quadruped followed close behind, satisfied the female had interpreted its signals.

  They entered the domicile, and he collapsed onto a sofa, barely taking in the cluttered space. Maise offered him another drink and put a hand against his forehead.

  He seldom got close enough to anyone to be touched, and his eyes drifted closed in satisfaction. It was hard to think of anything but her. He’d always taken for granted his natural Kirenai resiliency. “You really need a doctor. Are you sure there isn’t anyone we can call?”

  He shook his head and repeated, “No one can know I’m alive.”

  Sighing, she pulled a blanket from the back of the cushions behind him and tucked the edges around his body. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She smiled wryly. “Don’t you dare die on my couch.”

  He smiled back, gratified that she could find irony in the situation. Then he closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn’t wake in a royal military brig.

  4

  Ever since Mom started
calling her a dog whisperer, Maise had been inclined to help any living thing; dogs, birds, even people. And one thing was sure—this alien needed her help.

  She watched him sleep on her couch for a long time. It was difficult to believe he’d looked like a Great Dane less than an hour ago. If she hadn’t seen him transform before her very eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it herself.

  At the moment, he didn’t look at all dog-like. His features were broader than a human’s and slightly flattened, and his dark blue facial hair reminded her of photos of her father back in the seventies when bushy sideburns were in style. Although his hands each had five fingers, his fingernails were curved and sharp like claws, and he had thick, fur-like hair on the backs of his knuckles.

  Her attention drifted lower over the lap blanket that barely covered his naked legs and towel-wrapped hips, remembering other parts of his anatomy she’d glimpsed. The very thick, dark blue mat of hair on his chest tapered toward his crotch, and she could still envision the massive shaft of his cock stirring to life under her gaze. Her body flushed as she realized he’d seen her nearly naked as well. A brief fantasy of what it might’ve been like to press their bodies together flitted across her mind.

  She shook off the image, wondering what was wrong with her. She rarely liked hairy men, and this guy—no, this alien—had what looked like a pelt on portions of his body. Not to mention he’d been a dog not so very long ago. She shouldn’t find him remotely attractive. Maybe it was because he smelled so damn good? The scent of men’s cologne still hovered around him, a pleasing smell like musky pine that reminded her of walks in the woods. She’d always found good quality men’s cologne a turn on.

  Sighing, she tiptoed back to her bedroom, closed the door, and threw on a pair of leggings and a long tee shirt. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the nearest travel poster on her wall. What if he didn’t get better? What if he died? She recalled with horrifying clarity the way her date had turned into gooey blue gel. She had to help Iroth before he got worse, while he still had a body to heal.