J. Geissinger - Edge of Oblivion

Silence, sudden tension, and furtive looks passed back and forth. Mateo said, “Sixteen hours.

Exactly.”

Xander’s nervous system went on instant high alert. They’d been talking when he came in the room, three days minus sixteen hours , Mateo had said...did that have to do with Morgan—had she been hurt? Where was she? Something in his chest went cold.

His voice lowered an octave, he said, “What’s wrong?”

“How’s your sniffer, X?” said Mateo, watching him from hooded green eyes.

Xander was confused. And he hated to be confused. “What are you talking about?”

Mateo glanced at Tomás, who said with a lifted eyebrow, “ Inhale , man.”

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 cocked 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 cocked 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 fucking idiot!” 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 fuck 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.”

If he’d felt any shred of humor at the moment, he might have laughed at Mateo and his amusing colloquialisms. “Riding the lightning” meant being electrocuted. In the electric chair. Which is how it looked when an Ikati received blood from their mate.

From their mate.

For all Ikati , love was much more than a state of mind. It went deeper than emotion, deeper than wishes or vows made in a chapel or a lifetime of shared values and goals. It changed something within, on a physiological level. It left a mark, a fingerprint, a soul print that was never erased. Though some of their kind were Matched for propagating the race in hopes of imparting Gifts to their offspring and some of them were mated in love, as true lovers and soul mates and friends, all of them were mated for life. “Until death do us part” wasn’t just five words spoken on a Sunday. It was an ironclad pronouncement by fate. Among their kind, there was no divorce, no affairs, nothing at all that came between mates. Ever.

Except death.

No! his mind screamed. It can’t be! It cannot be!

Mateo stood and jerked his chin at Julian and Tomás. “Either which way, we’re out of here for the next sixty hours or so. There’s enough food and meds to last until we get back. Bartleby will stay to take care of you both.” He strode to the staircase that led upstairs and took the steps two at a time.

“And you’re welcome for rescuing your sorry ass,” he muttered just before his boots disappeared from sight.