It was alien, but like no alien I had ever encountered before. Something about the smell said it was a living presence still in the room; and that was just insane. The stateroom was empty. Nothing was truly invisible. Mimetic, yes. Beyond touching, no. I let go of the shifting and wearily breathed out the last of it. I needed to sleep and hated the fact that I couldn’t. This bloody job had my nerves stretched. I was seeing a threat behind every door.
I turned to leave.
The dying star filled the wall. The damn thing probably attracted the bizarre and strange to it. Made people go crazy. And they called this stay on the Pagidion a ‘pleasure cruise.’ Yes, only the shockingly rich could enjoy this trip.
I palmed the panel. The door slid back and a stylishly dressed thug filled the frame. He blinked.
I smiled and watched his eyes glaze.
I had two skills from my genetic heritage. I was a hunter and like most female Mosaics, I gave off another scent, something that grabbed men by the hindbrain and negated all rational thought. It had its uses. Like then.
“I must have the wrong cabin.”
“Must you?”
He surged forward.
I sidestepped him.
His meaty hand gripped my arm and then something odd happened. The mist of lust faded and a darker emotion replaced it. “Nosy aren’t you, little cat.”
The panic of that statement almost had me shifting right in front of him. How the hell could he know? Mosiacs weren’t exactly common knowledge; in fact we were positively illegal.
“Aren’t you going to deny it? Give me the standard answer, ‘genetic manipulation was outlawed four centuries ago’?” His skin burned against mine, the grip tightening. He breathed in and his eyes darkened further. “But I can smell the blue lynx, the caracel and a... tabby.” A wry smile pulled at his mouth. “The little domestic cat that gives you stripes across your breasts when you shift.” His free hand brushed over the shell of my ear. “Though with your heritage, I would expect something here.”
Who the hell was this man?
“Nothing to say?”
His fingers scorched my bare arm, branding my skin. A red flush fired under his cheeks and the veins formed a darkened network across his jaw. His arm started to shake. “Well, little cat?”
I wrenched myself free.
He stumbled back. For a moment, his gaze cleared and terror whipped through the man’s eyes. “Help me. It’s inside me.” The words were no more than a croak and then he dropped to the floor. Blood foamed from his mouth as his limbs thrashed. He choked. His eyes rolled back and he stopped moving. Seconds. It had only taken seconds.
The cat in me wanted to climb something high and hide there. I grabbed that urge by the scruff and inched closer, expecting a hand to shoot out and grab me. But it didn’t. He lay there in a large crumpled heap, his face pale and sprayed with his own blood. I leaned in. He wasn’t breathing and I swore under my breath. I could not be caught with a body.
Slamming the panic alarm on the door panel, I ran.