"Mr. Forrester?" A young
nurse appeared down the hallway. "Dr. Vilder would like to see
you in his office."
On his feet already, Marcus
almost trampled the slow-walking nurse as he followed her to the
doctor's office.
It had seemed appropriate,
since the incident on their honeymoon, that Marcus' family
doctor evaluate Marcus' wife, and yet strangest thing of all was
that the man who'd given Marcus his shots seemed hell-bent in
treating him so formally.
"Mr. Forrester."
There he went again, as
though he hadn't seen Marcus's buttocks a million times.
He looked very somber as he
greeted him, but then the man always wore the same bored look on
his face. "Please sit down."
Marcus dropped on the seat
across the doc's cherry wood desk and clasped his hands across
his lap. If the white-haired, balding doctor only knew that,
despite the outward calm he projected, he was shaking in his
bones.
To think of anything--anything--happening
to Marly...
"How is she?" Marcus asked
when Dr. Vilder only stared at him with the calm, calculated
expression he wore all the time.
The expression of someone
who must feel no emotion at all.
Of someone whose wife
hadn't just been peeked and poked at.
"Your wife is fine,
Marcus," he said after what felt like an eternity. "I wanted to
talk to you before she joined us."
Shit. He'd called him
Marcus. That couldn't be good. "And that's because?"
"Because she presents a
very unusual case."
Aha! "And what case would
that be, doctor?"
Marcus shifted on the seat,
cringing when his sensitized cock scraped against his underwear.
Damned if that didn't hurt.
"Tell me more about her,"
the doctor said, linking his large, wrinkled hands over the
desk. "Her habits. Her moods."
Wasn't the doctor supposed
to be telling him something--like what the hell was
happening to her?
Marcus shot the doctor a
look, a dead serious look. A look that told the man he didn't
want to mess with a man wearing this particular look.
With grave seriousness and
a face he would wear in a funeral, Marcus said, "She's the best
thing that's ever happened to me."
"Ah, yes." The doctor
didn't even smile. "How long have you been married now?"
"A year. But we've been
together since we were kids, remember?"
All Marcus got was a slight
nod on the doctor's part, but Marcus doubted that he remembered
anything that wasn't in his medical files--much less that he'd
been to their wedding.
"Your wife's worried, Mr.
Forrester. She tells me she's been a little aggressive these
past few days. She even said last night she harmed you."
"It's nothing," Marcus
said.
"Well, may I see this
nothing?"
Marcus hesitated, then
sighed. Rising, he pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his
jeans and up to his shoulders. Wordlessly, the balding doctor
and his insipid white coat drew up behind him. The drying scabs
seemed to itch even more under the doctor's scrutiny.
"Hmm...very interesting." Yeah.
"And she did this with...?"
"Her nails." That little
she-devil.
"Anything else I should
know about? She mentioned some biting near the groin area."
Marcus didn't even want to
remember, or else get a very uncomfortable hard-on and let the
doctor think he was gay.
Like he was aroused by his
scrutiny or something.
But man!
Marly had gone crazy last
night, and though Marcus hadn't gotten any sleep, he was a
deeply happy, satisfied man, scars and all.
"The bite, Mr. Forrester?"
Sighing, Marcus turned and
let the shirt fall over his back before he unfastened his jeans,
dropped them to the floor, and spread his legs, signaling down
at the teeth marks on his inner thigh.
Dr. Vilder bent to take a
look, and he got so close Marcus feared a nurse would burst in
and think he was getting fellatio.
He shifted on his feet,
staring at the landscape painting behind the doctor's desk,
suddenly riveted. He'd never stared so long at a plain ole
stretch of grass. And then there was something flying in the
sky, which he wasn't sure if it was a bird or an airplane. Oh,
and look, more grass.
"It's just as I suspected,"
Dr. Vilder said as he straightened and walked around his desk to
his seat.
"Just tell me she's all
right," Marcus muttered as he pulled up and fastened before
dropping back down on the chair.
"She's fine."
"We thought maybe..."
Marcus gazed steadily at the doctor, not hiding the hopeful note
in his voice. "That she's pregnant."
"She's not pregnant, Mr.
Forrester. She's in oestrus."
"Oe--what?"
"Your wife is in heat."
"Come again?"
"She's in heat."
In heat.
"Her tests show an
interesting hormone and an alteration to her DNA pattern. Quite
frankly, I'm amazed at the results."
While the doctor did, in
fact, look amazed, Marcus could only stare at him. He shook his
head to clear it. "I'm afraid you've lost me."
"She's having a heat period
that resembles that of a felid." At Marcus's continuing blank
look, Dr. Vilder added, "A feline."
Brows joining into a scowl,
Marcus gazed around the ample, wood-paneled office, wondering if
all those diplomas hanging on the wall were even real. Were they
talking about cats here? "And what exactly does this mean?" he
asked, his attention once again on the doctor.
"Truthfully, I'm not sure."
The doctor leaned back in
his chair, hands crossed over his lap as he eyed him steadily.
"For sure, such a hormone present in her blood means she wants
to copulate. The mating habits of felines are varied, but the
species she most resembles, the panthera leo, is known to have a
high copulation activity. When in heat, females copulate every
fifteen minutes, sometimes even going without sleep for several
days."
Marcus had no words to
reply with. He could swear his tongue had glued itself to the
roof of his mouth.
At his silence, the doctor
seemed to feel a need to make himself clearer. "She needs to
mate...frequently." That last word was so emphasized, Marcus
winced. There was nothing in this world he enjoyed more than
making love with his wife. But after last night's session, in
which they'd literally fucked every fifteen minutes, Marcus
doubted there was a single drop of sperm left in his whole body.
"And how exactly am I
supposed to keep up with that, doctor?"
Old doc shrugged. "You
can't."
What kind of lame,
shit-faced answer was that?
Marcus thrust his hands in
the air. "So she's to continue suffering for five days? She
can't even sleep; she's in pain!" He shook his head vehemently.
"There must be something we could do, an injection, some pills?"
"The only solution for her
current dilemma is for her to mate."
Marcus gave himself the
pleasure of glaring at the man. "Doctor, seriously," he said,
"I'm only one man."
"Precisely. Within the
species of the panthera leo, no lion alone can satisfy a female
in heat. They take turns, sometimes three or four of them."
"Are you suggesting
I...well that's preposterous!"
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