I Take Thee

I Take Thee

Red Garnier

(c) 2008

I Take Thee

Red Garnier

Published 2008

ISBN 978-1-59578-420-9

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509

Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Red Garnier. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

Email:

[email protected]

Editor

Georgia Woods

Cover Artist

April Martinez

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Marcus Forrester flipped over the magazine for the hundredth time in Dr. Ben Vilder’s small, sunny waiting room. To think of someone poking and prodding at his wife in the examination room a few doors away had his gut twisting inside him, and his teeth clenching so tight they’d be soon turning to powder. The monthly test results should be in by now.

So then why was this taking so long?

He’d been waiting for over an hour, and quickly approached the point where he would pull his hair out, one by one.

“Damn.”

He slapped the magazine down on the seat beside him and winced when his ribs protested.

He felt like someone had kicked the shit out of him, then scraped a garden rake down his back.

Every drying scab itched under his shirt, and his cock felt as if he’d laid it down on the road and had a truck run over it.

As for the twitching in his nuts, that didn’t feel too good either.

Eyeing the receptionist behind the glass, he cleared his throat loudly.

She glanced up, gave him an apologetic smile, and went back to filing her nails.

Marcus sighed, then glared at the fake plant across the room as if this were all its fault.

“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—
any
thing—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!”

“I’m not suggesting anything, Mr. Forrester. I’m stating the facts.”

“But this is insane!”

“That’s a whole other field, Mr. Forrester, unfortunately not my specialty.” Dr.

Vilder was the only one who smiled at his joke, and when he was through smiling, he said, “I admit, Mr. Forester, that when you mentioned her phenomenal sex drive on your honeymoon, I never expected to encounter something like this.”

“Marly…” Marcus shrugged. “Marly insisted something was wrong with her. I saw no reason to take monthly tests, but you know how…stubborn women get.”

“Well now, it is quite obvious there
is
something odd, but I have to admit I’ve never had any experience with one of these cases myself. I’ll have to meet with my colleagues and gather more information for you. Now I have to ask, does the time when this happened during your honeymoon strike you as similar?”

“This time is actually much worse. She gets very… She whimpers if we don’t immediately…well,
you know
.”

The doctor looked like he was suppressing a smile. “Was there any biting last time, scratching?”

“Nope. No biting. Lots of scratching, lots of clawing, lots and lots of sex.”

Marcus grinned. Because it had been the most fantastic honeymoon ever. Eating.

Sleeping. Fucking. All day. Every day.

Marcus had never thought Marly’s honeymoon sex drive was anything to be concerned about, except she kept telling him how it hurt so much when she wanted to and for some reason couldn’t—whether it be Marcus was sleeping, they were at the airport, a restaurant, hell, any number of reasons.

“I see,” the doctor said. “Well, I’d like to assume the heat periods will increase in frequency until she bears a child. In fact, I believe it’s the case with most of the felidae.”

“I assure you,” Marcus said in a tone showing his disappointment, “we’ve been trying.”

“Tell me, does she ever change?”

“Change?” Marcus repeated. He wouldn’t change a hair in Marly’s whole body. He loved her! Every bitty inch and tiny freckle on her nose.

“I mean physical changes,” the doctor explained. “Shifting, turning into a cat, getting fangs or even a tail?”

Marcus was completely fossilized in his seat. Unmoving. Not even breathing.

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, I’m very serious, Mr. Forrester. It seems unlikely she could withstand the whole five day heat period without her body adapting to it for the time being.”

“
Well, will I live
?”

Marcus jumped to his feet at the sound of her voice. “Marly.”

Gorgeous, sweet Marly.

With her neat blonde hair cropped to her shoulders—a cut which Marcus hadn’t cared for at first, but now found unbearably cute—and her slim, agile body in those tight blue jeans which just happened to be Marcus’ favorites.

His kind, smart, sexy wife—with all those raging cat-hormones inside her.

Poor
baby
!

He rushed to her side. “Here, baby, let me help you.”

“I’m not an invalid, honey, I can walk.” But she held onto him anyway, leaning to his side as he guided her toward the chair next to his with painstaking slowness.

“It’ll be all right, baby,” he cooed. “The doctor here was just explaining…”

She kissed his lips before sitting down. “If it’s got the word ‘nympho’ in there, or even ‘maniac’, I’d rather not know.”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Forrester, nothing like that.”

Marcus took his own chair. “Sweetheart, it seems that you’re…well, honey, that explains why you’ve lately been so…what I mean to say is…”

“You’re in heat, Mrs. Forrester,” the doctor artfully interjected. “You have an unusual craving for sex that rivals that of a feline.”

Marcus smiled at her with false brightness and reached out to pat her hand. “There, you see? It’ll be all right.”