Page 55 of Possessed By the Leonid King

Well, I could belong to him for the rest of my life to work it off—and that’s the job I wanted most, anyway. With the exchange rate, maybe it won’t seem too bad.

When Wendy remained quiet and confused, Layla pressed, “How about if it’s only a month-long contract? A vacation? And if you don’t like it, you can always leave. If you love it, you can stay.”

“If I see the offer for real, I’ll consider it. If... If this is really Layla, I’ve missed you. We all have.”

The call ended.

Layla dissolved into sobs as her fingers sprang into action. She had to hope Dax and Elio were better able to differentiate reality from illusion. Maybe they would help persuade Wendy.

If not, I still have Rupex.

Rupex and romance. I wonder what he wants to do tonight?

Layla used the distraction to help her calm down and prepare for the next emotional upheaval.

Chapter Twenty-One

Rupex gathered the heavenly-scented blossoms of the Pulsewood Bush, dark yellow and red. Some said they were aphrodisiacs. He remembered taking the large, cone-shaped flowers and putting them on Alana’s ears, and calling her the Beach Witch.

Alana would have liked Layla. She has fire. She has compassion.

Rupex left the flowers in a bucket of water, along with the fat black and blue shrimp. He would roast them on skewers and serve them with plump duck breast steeped in Marcus’ Servali Spice Blend.

Marcus was a willing ally in his plan to romance Layla.

“Good. Glad your heart and your genitalia are working as a team. About time.” Marcus remarked with a grim chuckle, taking a break from freezing the serum he intended to pass onto Lynxian and human couples. “What would you like me to do? Be your second? Talk you up? Or just play kitchen boy?”

“Help me make dinner and then spend a night under the stars—or in my shack on the island. Please? I want to feel like we have privacy. Romancing shouldn’t feel clinical—or like we have to have an audience and report back on our mating.”

“Call it making love, you fool.” Marcus spat a pen cap back into his paw as he finished the last label. “Put on some Leopardine mood music. Silk sheets. Red wine.”

“Wine? Silk sheets? Are you coming down with something?”

“No, I’m coming up with something!” Marcus left the lab and headed to the kitchen. “Humans need fruit and vegetables more often, too. And dessert. They like sweet things. Do you bake?”

“Do I look like I bake?”

“You look like someone who ought to learn. You’ve already shown success in the sexual arena. You need to prove you can meet other needs.”

“I’m gainfully employed and a King.”

“I think it’s a good thing the girl is easily pleased with simplistic gifts like shelter and a sturdy craft.”

“The Comet Stalker isn’t simple! It’s not a pleasure craft, but it is certainly efficient, top-of-the-line, sleek—”

“That isn’t romantic.”

Rupex groaned. Marcus was right. Layla liked him because he made survival easier. That wasn’t love.

RUPEX PREPARED HIS quarters carefully. He put the lights on low, put the heavily perfumed flowers on the table, and lined up the courses of their meal under makeshift cloches made from spare mixing bowls. Marcus pronounced him “ready to try” and took an overnight bag as he left the ship at sunset.

Rupex flicked his paw and the smooth, exotic vocals of Leopardine mood music (said to be sung originally by the harems of Leopardine Sultans when they were in heat) wailed through the speakers and filled the chamber.

His senses were overloaded. Now, all he needed was Layla.

In his best uniform, holding a single deep red and gold flower before him, he strolled to her quarters.

Layla opened the door in what had once been a red beach wrap. It made a knot at her bust and flowed past her calves, leaving a long slit up her thigh. Her hair was in a twist—and her face was tight and tired.

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