Mating Rituals [Impulse 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

Kane took a glance at his environment. He was in an anonymous hotel room, which didn’t narrow it down much. Bright sunshine poured in through the windows since they obviously hadn’t gotten around to pulling the drapes.

Sunshine? Ah, now he remembered. He’d gone to a weekend conference in Miami, representing Impulse’s interests at a statewide tourism forum. Tyrone hadn’t come because he had stuff to take care of elsewhere. Today was the final day. Last night had been a gala dinner and…and what? Hell if he could remember.

“You put a few away last night,” the woman said. “We all did. I guess it got a bit out of hand. How do you feel?”

Like shit, but not because of the hangover.

“Just give me a moment.”

To buy some time, Kane staggered from the bed and made it to the bathroom. He used the can, splashed water on his face, and stared at his reflection through splayed fingers. The sight that greeted him made him groan. His pupils were dilated, his eyes bloodshot, and he was sweating profusely in spite of the fact that the AC kept the temperature in the room at a comfortable level.

Some of it was coming back to him now. The woman—Susanna Denton, her name was—was a conference attendee from Cape Canaveral. Just about every guy attending had the hots for her. A number of them had hit on her, but it became apparent that she had Kane in her sights from the get-go. Kane had flirted with her, like he’d flirt with any attractive woman, but he hadn’t intended for it to go any farther than that. Nor did he recall drinking to excess. So what the fuck had gone on? And more to the point, what had actually gone on in that bed?

Kane’s heated body turned ice cold when he ruminated upon the possibilities. What was he supposed to do? Ask Susanna politely if they’d actually had full-on sex? He laughed aloud, even though there was nothing remotely funny about the prospect of having committed himself to a life of never being able to shift again.

“What’s so funny?” Susanna asked, drifting into the bathroom, still totally naked. “Goodness, look at me.”

Kane looked, his insides weighed down with lead when she picked up a washcloth and applied it to her inner thighs.

“I must have been out of it if I didn’t even clean myself up afterward.”

Kane said nothing as he watched her wash away the crystallized evidence of dried sperm.

His, presumably.

Kane didn’t know what else to do and so he got in the shower, hoping like hell that the woman wouldn’t follow him. She clearly got the message and didn’t.

“You obviously need some time to get yourself together,” she said, “so I’ll go back to my room and do the same. See you downstairs later.”

Kane grunted something unintelligible, only breathing freely when he heard the door close behind her. After she’d gone he stood under the hot jets of water for a long time, allowing them to pound onto his aching head without feeling the pressure. He then turned the water to cold, enduring it for as long as he could before exiting the stall. He felt better physically, but mentally he was a train wreck.

Now that he was thinking more rationally, he’d almost managed to convince himself that there was a plausible reason for that sperm being on her thighs. He would have chosen to ejaculate on her tits but perhaps he shot it over her pussy instead. Yes, that would be it.
Say it often enough and you might even convince yourself.

She wasn’t the right mate for him, and if he had actually fucked her he was literally…well, fucked. He wouldn’t be able to have sex with another human if he’d already had this one. His powers, what was left of them, would diminish and he’d be unable to shift ever again. The thought of it made him break out in a cold sweat, especially since he wouldn’t know immediately if he had screwed up. It could take months, and the waiting would slowly kill him.

Kane threw his belongings into his bag and checked out through the in-room system. Five minutes later, having left the hotel by a side door to avoid seeing Susanna or any of the other delegates, he was in his car, heading for Impulse. He had a long drive in front of him, but never had he been in greater need of Tyrone’s levelheadedness. Perhaps he could make some sense of all this madness, because the answer sure as hell evaded Kane.

“I have nothing for this meeting.”

Aisha didn’t know how she managed to say the words or how she sat through the rest of the conference without hurling some heavy object at Rick. He still wouldn’t look at her, but she was now grateful for his cowardice. After almost two years of idolizing the man she finally saw him the way others did. She’d always defended him against accusations of being a shark, out for number one, not a team player—now she knew differently and hated herself for being taken in by his reptilian charm.

She was first out the door when the meeting broke up. Rick was detained by colleagues congratulating him on such a clever concept for
the feature.
The slimeball appeared to be basking in the limelight as he modestly accepted praise from colleagues who Aisha knew didn’t like him but wouldn’t hesitate to hitch their stars to his wagon. Why hadn’t she noticed that aspect of her coworkers’ psyches before now?

Aisha went straight to the ladies’ room and sloshed cold water on her burning face, wondering what she could do to regain her hard-won foothold on the slippery upward slope of television meteorology. Did she even want to? If that’s the way the game was played, she wanted no part of it. She’d seen the petty jealousies, the infighting, the ass kissing, but thought she was better than that. Rick had told her she was. Now she understood why.

Feeling only fractionally calmer, she squared her shoulders, left the bathroom, and headed directly for Rick’s office. She brushed past his assistant without acknowledging her and entered his room without bothering to knock. He was just lowering himself into his chair and paused awkwardly halfway when she slammed the door behind her. She leaned against it, arms folded beneath her breasts, and said nothing.

“Look, babe,” he said, finally lowering his rear onto his chair. “I know what you must be thinking, but—”

“You have no fucking idea what’s going through my head. You don’t have the mental capacity to keep up with my thought process.”

“Ouch, I guess I deserved that.”

“No question.”

He stood up again and walked around his desk, approaching her with the avuncular expression on his handsome face that had first endeared him to her.

“You have to understand how this game’s played.”

He reached out a hand, but she swatted it away. “Don’t you dare touch me! You forfeited that right when you stole my idea.” She shot him a malevolent glare. “What made you do it? I asked you for your advice, shared all my research with you, but you told me it wasn’t creative enough. I said I’d give it a shot anyway, get the others’ feedback, and learn from the experience. You told me to go for it when all the time you intended to take the glory.” She shook her head. “I knew it was a winner and you obviously did, too, but put me off because you wanted it for yourself.” She paused, fighting back tears. “How could you, especially after all we’ve been to each other?”

“Peter never would have run with it, not with an unknown like you at the helm. I tried to tell you that. It needs experience, a familiar face, and I think, deep down, you’ve always known that, too.”

He spread his hands and turned on the charm, offering her the sexy smile that had always won her around in the past. This time it seemed so fake that she wondered how she could ever have fallen for it. She could see him now for what he was—a little desperate, afraid of competition, not getting any younger, worried about staying ahead of the game, and prepared to do whatever it took to defend his little empire.

“All I can see is a burned-out has-been without an original idea between his ears.”

He chuckled. “That’s not what you said in bed last night.”

Leave it to a man to fall back on sex.
Aisha merely tossed her head, sending her long corkscrew curls dancing over her shoulders, not bothering to dignify the comment with a response.

“We can work on this together, both of us in front of the camera.”

“No thanks.”

She could see that she’d finally surprised him. He’d obviously expected her to be angry but assumed she’d calm down with the offer of camera time. She supposed he had reason to believe that. He’d always been able to talk her around when they’d disagreed in the past. But this was different. Besides, he knew she was a natural redhead. Redheads had tempers to match their hair color, and although she’d learned to control hers—most of the time—this was one provocation too many.

“What do you mean, no thanks?”

“I mean I wouldn’t work with a cheat like you if you were the last man on earth.”

His smile faltered. “You don’t mean that.”

“You see, you’re doing it again, telling me what I mean. I do have a mind of my own, as it happens. In case you’ve forgotten, I also have a bachelor’s degree in meteorology, which is more than can be said for you, or anyone else working here.”

“Yeah, you know your stuff. That’s why Cordite News and Weather hired you, on my recommendation, I might add. But theory is one thing. Standing in front of a camera and convincing the viewing public that you know a storm cloud from a cold front is entirely another.”

“I want a month’s sabbatical.”

“Not possible. You’re needed here.”

“Then make it possible. Otherwise I go to Peter, show him the research date-stamped on my computer, and tell him you stole it.” She fixed him with a steely, determined gaze. “I’ll also have to tell him how you came to be in my apartment and in a position to steal it, of course.”

Rick’s expression froze. “Being spiteful won’t help your career.”

“What career?” Aisha expelled a slow, angry breath. “I want a month off. I’m owed it because I haven’t taken any vacation time since I signed on, fool that I am.”

“What will you do?”

“None of your damned business.” She wrenched open the door. “But my first act will be to call a locksmith. You won’t be getting into my apartment again.”

“You could just ask for your key back.”

“Yeah, I could, but I still wouldn’t feel safe.”

“Look, Aisha, you need time to calm down and think about your career path. I know you hate me right now—”

“You got that right.”

“But, trust me, when this project takes off—”

“And you get the credit for my idea.”

“When it takes off, you’ll thank me. The experience will be invaluable. But right now, I guess you’re right. Take a vacation and give yourself a break. I’ll give you some space, and when you come back, we’ll regroup. How does that sound?”

Aisha could read him like a book. He’d suddenly realized that she had him over a barrel, and not just because she could prove he’d stolen her idea. He’d been indiscreet, told her far too much about his past, and now he was worried about what she’d do with that information.
Good, let the bastard sweat!

He looked like he was going to try and touch her again, but she moved out of range, left his domain, and slammed the glazed door so hard behind her that it rattled. Everyone looked up as she stormed through the open-plan office. Without speaking to anyone she grabbed her purse and the few personal items she kept in her cubbyhole and strode out of the office.

* * * *

Tyrone sat cross-legged on the beach, surrounded by twenty kids and three of their teachers.

“I can breathe really easily,” boasted one cocky little boy, taking in a huge lungful of Impulse’s thin air to prove his point and promptly choking on it.

All the other kids laughed.

“It’s true, though,” said a young, busty teacher who’d continuously been giving Tyrone the eye. “The kids can breathe more easily than us big girls.” She thrust out her chest, presumably to ensure that Tyrone had seen the precise location of her big parts. She would have been better off trying that with Kane. His buddy was the titty freak. Tyrone was more of a leg man. “Why is that, Mr. Darwin?”

Tyrone shrugged, wondering what would happen if he actually told the truth during one of these presentations. “No one’s exactly sure.”

“But you seem to cope well enough. How long did it take you to acclimatize, and what can you do to help the rest of us get by?”

“I’ve lived here all my life, so it’s never been a problem for me. And it’s true what you say.” Tyrone nodded toward the cocky kid. “For some reason children can breathe our thin air more easily than adults.”

“Perhaps I need to move in.”

The teacher sounded as though she wouldn’t take much persuading.
No, you don’t.
Tyrone liked to be the initiator. Any woman that came on to him—and it happened to him and Kane a lot—was an instant turn-off.

“It’s like being at altitude,” another of the teachers remarked.

“Yeah, most people feel that way. Like I said, no one understands quite why, and, trust me, enough people have done studies trying to figure it out. The best minds reckon it’s to do with some kind of fault line that runs through this little spit of land.” Tyrone shrugged. “I’ve no idea if that’s right, but still, it’s kinda neat to be different.”