Falke’s Captive

rubbing her bare ass against Reidar’s groin, then raising her knee to nudge against Kelan’s. “I’m not done yet.”

Reidar pinched her nipple, loving the sound of her quick intake of breath. At the same time, Kelan reached between her legs.

Beth ran her nails down Kelan’s arm and moaned. “I think it would be very easy to fall in love with the two of you.”

Reidar’s cock surged to fullness against her velvety soft ass cheeks at her words. He glanced up to see the look of utter surrender in Kelan’s face.

“Ours,” Kelan growled, then sank his tongue into her mouth and his fingers into her pussy.

Beth awoke from a doze and glanced over Kelan’s shoulder to see the clock on the nightstand. It was 4:12 a.m., and she was wide awake. Kelan’s arm was around her waist, and Reidar’s leg was over hers, effectively trapping her in the middle of the bed. It was warm and cozy there, but she had to pee, and there was no point staying in bed because they were dead to the world. Reidar snored softly, and Kelan twitched like a puppy in his sleep, which made her grin.

She kissed Kelan on the shoulder and gently gripped his wrist to move his arm.

Instead of releasing her, he pulled her flush against his body and tightened his hold. When Kelan moved her, Reidar snuggled up even harder against her backside, and his hand snuck around and settled over her breast.

She huffed out a breath and said, “Unless you two can get it up again, I suggest you let go of me.”

Reidar snored.

Kelan smacked his lips and nuzzled his face against her hair.

She chuckled to herself and wiggled down the bed, out from under their limbs. Both men flipped over, facing away from each other, and each pulled one of the pillows to their chests. She stood at the end of the bed, watching her boys sleep peacefully in the low ambient light cast through the window from the parking lot. A part of her thought about crawling right back in between them, but she’d wasted an entire day in bed already. She was going to lose her position with Professor Whitmore if she didn’t start working harder and playing less.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, she put on her bathrobe, picked her glasses off the dresser and quietly dragged the little table to the far, dark corner of the room, then booted up her laptop. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and a diet cola from the mini fridge. The cooling box with the blood sample was still there, and she shook her head. She seriously needed to get her act together. The post office opened at nine, and she vowed to be at the door then.

She punched in the code to listen to her voicemail—a call from her mom seeing how things were going— and then laid the phone on the table next to the computer. She always kept the ringer on silent vibrate because she carried it into the forest with her and didn’t want it scaring off potential targets.

She should call her mother in the morning. Later in the morning, she amended when she glanced at the clock on her computer.

She took a few swallows from her bottle of cola and then opened her journal, scrolled through what she’d started to write about Falke the night he’d escaped and laid her fingers over the keys.

The cougar escaped sometime during the night, she’d written. In the morning, using the GPS tracking device I inserted in his neck, I found him in a store in downtown Leavenworth. The cat is a family pet belonging to the Falkes, locals of Leavenworth and owners of Catamount Outfitters. They treat him as part of the family. I’ve heard them say, several times, that no one owns him.

Her gaze strayed to the bed before turning back to the computer screen. She began to type.

The family is protective of the cat and will not allow me access to obtain another blood sample, which we need to continue the testing. The town vet is also a Falke sibling, and she was as tight-lipped about the history of the cat’s lineage as the rest.

I spoke with a few locals who said there has always been a Falke cougar for as long as they can remember, and a few I spoke with are descendants of the original founding fathers of Leavenworth.

But how much of what they said is true, and how much is folklore?

There must be records somewhere that can shed light on this unique line of pumas. Perhaps I can find something in the newspaper archives at a local library.

I will continue digging as deeply as I can into the family history with the cougars. My goal is to obtain another blood sample, and to try to trace a family line. At this point, I do not know who sired Falke or its mother’s identity, or even where either parent comes from. I assume one or both are in captivity somewhere, if either is still alive, but the Falke family is very secretive.

I have made friends with two of the brothers. I’m hoping they will eventually open up to me.

Unless she was just a fling. Something they did with a lot of tourist women.

She looked over to where Kelan and Reidar still slept, and her heart ached a little. When she said she thought she could fall in love with them, she’d lied.

She loved them already.

The two brothers together were the perfect man. She smiled at the thought, even as tears stung her eyes. Reidar was so gentle and soft spoken. He could melt her heart with one of his sexy grins.

Kelan had that hard, demanding edge that enflamed her libido as nothing ever had. They were both kind. And when she’d spoken of her passion for her work, they’d listened. Even though she wasn’t sure of their formal education, they were intelligent and great conversationalists.

It had only been a matter of days since she met them, but she wasn’t the type of person to lie to herself. She wasn’t a teenager with a crush, and she hadn’t been searching for love everlasting. But it had found her. Or at least love had. She doubted this would be everlasting, and that thought hurt her heart.

Who would have thought it? Bookworm Lizzy in love with two sexy men.

No wonder Tim seemed so shocked. She should be too, she supposed, but it all felt so right when she was with them. Too right. Perfect. As if she belonged between them at all times, loving them both.

“Oh, Beth,” she whispered to herself. “You dumb, dumb girl.” She sighed, saved the journal entry and opened up her notes and dissertation draft.

A while later, her phone buzzed on the table. Beth glanced at the computer’s clock to see it was just after six. Definitely not her mom at this hour. When she picked it up, she saw it was Professor Whitmore and quickly answered, dashing for the bathroom and shutting the door so she didn’t have to whisper.

“Hello?”

“The lab results are missing,” he said, his voice full of fury.

“Wh-what?” She couldn’t have heard right.

“The lab results are gone. Erased from the computer. Someone’s been in the lab. Things are moved around.”

“Are you sure?”

“The files have been erased, and some kind of program was run so it’s irretrievable. It’s gone.”

Beth swallowed hard. How could it be? There were numerous files, one for each test run—she’d done it three times herself, plus whatever Whitmore had done.

“Tell me you saved a copy on your computer,” Whitmore demanded in nearly a growl.

“N-no, sir. I did not.” Why hadn’t she thought of backing up the data onto another drive?

“Did you email the results to anyone?”

“No.” A sickening queasiness churned in her gut.

Whitmore cursed fluidly and colorfully under his breath. “Goddamn it, why didn’t you back up the information?”

Because she was waiting for the lead scientist to look at the results, and since he got them, he’d been sending her on one errand after another. “I—”

“God help you if you—”

“I have that nanny cam,” she rushed to say as she rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “My computer. Tim brought it to me last night. I’ll find out who did this.”