Page 10 of Stripe Theory

“No? Let me guess – you’re more of a nine-to-five, everything in its proper place kind of scientist?” She moved past him to grab a sample, her arm brushing his sleeve.

The casual contact sent electricity racing across his skin. Her scent enveloped him – vanilla and coffee, underlaid with something uniquely her that called to both his human and animal sides. His tiger roared to life, desperate to get closer, to mark her with his scent, to claim...

Rehan stiffened, fighting for control. This couldn’t happen. He hadn’t survived years of pride politics and corporate takeovers by letting his tiger’s instincts override his judgment. But his enhanced senses betrayed him, tracking her every movement as she held the sample up to the light.

“The virus’s protein structure is fascinating,” she said, seemingly oblivious to his internal struggle. “It’s not just attacking the shifter gene – it’s rewriting it. See these markers?” She pointed to her computer screen, leaning close enough that her hair brushed his arm. The contact sent another jolt through him. “It’s like the virus is trying to evolve the tiger right out of tiger shifters.”

Her brilliant mind matched her beautiful face, which only made his tiger more insistent.Mine, it growled again.Ours. The perfect mate – smart enough to challenge us, strong enough to stand beside us, and completely forbidden.

Behind him, Hunter’s knowing chuckle grated on his nerves.

“Your work has potential,” Rehan said, forcing himself back to business. His voice came out rougher than intended. “But potential needs focus. I expect results.”

Alora crossed her arms, unintimidated. The movement drew his attention to the ridiculous tiger patches on her lab coat – one appeared to be wearing sunglasses while solving an equation. “You’ll get results, Mr. Kedi. But genius works best when it’s not micromanaged.” Her smile turned challenging. “Besides, your mother already approved my methods.”

“My mother isn’t funding your research.”

“No, but she did say you’d be like this.” Alora turned back to her microscope, effectively dismissing him. The casual disregard for his authority should have irritated him. Instead, his tiger practically purred at her boldness. “Very intense. Very proper. She also said you’d appreciate my work once you got past the tiger puns.”

“We’ll see.” He fought to keep his voice neutral despite the way his pulse raced.

“Oh yes,” she agreed cheerfully. “We will. Now, would you like to hear about my latest breakthrough? Fair warning – it involves at least three cat puns and one truly terrible metaphor about protein bonds doing the tango.”

SIX

Rehan’s carefully ordered world tilted on its axis. As Alora launched into an explanation that somehow combined brilliant genetics and terrible wordplay, Rehan faced an uncomfortable truth: Dr. Sky would either revolutionize shifter medicine or drive him completely mad.

His tiger, traitorously, seemed perfectly fine with either outcome. In fact, as her hands danced through the air describing molecular structures, his inner beast made its preference clear: both. It wanted both her brilliant mind and her playful heart, her scientific genius and her terrible puns.

For the first time in his life, Rehan’s legendary control faced a serious challenge. And she wore a lab coat covered in cartoon tigers.

“The protein structure shifts like this,” Alora demonstrated, pulling up a 3D molecular model on her holoscreen. Her enthusiasm made the scientific jargon sound like poetry. “See how it dances? Though I suppose you’re not much of a dancer, Mr. Kedi.”

“I dance.” The defensive response slipped out before he could stop it. His tiger preened at her surprised look.

“Really?” She tilted her head, studying him with those bright eyes. “Let me guess – very proper ballroom dancing. All rules and counted steps.”

Hunter snorted. “He’s actually pretty good at?—”

“That’s not relevant to the research,” Rehan cut in, shooting his friend a warning look. The last thing he needed was Hunter sharing stories about the traditional shifter dances he’d learned as pride leader. Especially the one where he’d had to perform shirtless under the full moon. “The protein binding sequence?—”

“Oh no, this is definitely relevant.” Alora’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Understanding shifter culture helps me understand shifter biology. For instance, did you know that tiger shifters’ dance rituals actually influence their molecular structures? The rhythmic movement creates fascinating changes in their genetic expression.”

His tiger perked up at her knowledge of shifter biology. She understood them – understood him – on both a scientific and cultural level. The urge to show her his own dance, to demonstrate his strength and grace, rose powerfully.

Rehan forced his attention back to the holoscreen where molecules spun in complex patterns. “Your understanding of shifter genetics is... impressive.” The admission cost him something, but her brilliant smile made it worth it.

“Coming from you, that’s practically a marriage proposal,” Hunter muttered, too low for human ears.

Rehan’s tiger rumbled in agreement before he could squash the response. Across the lab, Stripes the cat looked up at the sound, ears twitching.

“Did you say something?” Alora asked, glancing between them.

“He’s admiring your organizational system,” Hunter said innocently, gesturing to a wall covered in color-coded stickynotes arranged in what appeared to be a giant DNA helix pattern.

“Oh, that’s my idea wall!” She bounced over to it, lab coat swishing. “Each color represents a different aspect of the research. Pink for protein markers, blue for genetic sequences, yellow for successful trials...” She pointed to a lone green note near the bottom. “And that one’s my reminder to feed Stripes because he gets very dramatic when he’s hungry. Don’t you, baby?”

The cat yawned, showing impressive fangs.

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