Page 28 of Stripe Theory (The Matchmaker’s Book Club #8)

TWENTY-SEVEN

P ink and orange sunset light streamed through the lab’s windows as Alora balanced precariously on a stepladder, her tongue stuck out in concentration. A forest of tiger-striped streamers already crisscrossed the recreation area’s ceiling, transforming the usually sterile space into something magical.

“Careful up there,” Maya called from below. “If you fall and die, I’ll have to explain to Rehan why his birthday party turned into a crime scene.”

Alora stretched farther, determined to get the banner’s angle just right. “Death by party decoration would be a very on-brand way to go. My gravestone could say ‘She died as she lived – making terrible puns.’”

“Speaking of terrible puns...” Maya gestured to the banner Alora was hanging: ‘Have a PURR-fect Birthday!’

“That’s actually one of my tamer ones. Hunter vetoed ‘You’re not getting any stripe-er’ and ‘Hope your birthday is claw-some.’”

“Hunter’s just grumpy because I made him run interference all day.” Maya arranged another cluster of black and orange balloons. “One mention of a security breach in the east wing, and Rehan’s too busy being Mr. Protective Alpha to notice we’re literally carrying a tiger-striped cake past his office.”

“You didn’t.” Alora climbed down, admiring their work. Paper lanterns cast warm patterns across the walls, and someone – probably Navi from the biochem lab – had added twinkling lights that made the whole space glow. “How did you even get a cake past shifter senses?”

Maya’s grin turned wicked. “I may have borrowed one of your scent-blocking compounds from the lab. The one you use to mask chemical reactions.”

“You used my scientific research... to smuggle birthday cake.” Alora tried to look disapproving but failed. “That’s either brilliant or terrifying.”

“Both. Definitely both.” Maya pulled out a small package wrapped in paper covered with cartoon tigers wearing party hats. “Want to see what I got him?”

“If it’s a ‘Here Kitty Kitty’ coffee mug, he might actually murder you.”

“Better.” Maya revealed a silk tie dotted with tiny, subtle tigers. “You can only see them when it catches the light. Very professional. Very dignified. Very...”

“Very much going to make his eye do that twitchy thing?”

“Exactly!”

Their laughter faded as Sierra entered with a group of younger shifters. Despite the virus’s obvious toll – dark circles under her eyes, slightly unsteady gait – Sierra’s smile lit up her whole face as she described her latest art installation to her rapt audience.

Alora’s scientist brain kicked in automatically, cataloging symptoms. Sierra’s left side showed more weakness than last week, her movements subtly compensating. The virus was progressing faster than their models predicted.

“Hey.” Maya squeezed her arm. “No doctor face at the party. We’re celebrating tonight.”

“Right. Sorry.” Alora forced her attention back to the decorations. “Though I still say we should have hired that singing telegram dressed as Tony the Tiger.”

“Absolutely not.” Hunter materialized from the shadows, making both women jump. He moved with that liquid grace all shifters seemed to possess, though his imposing presence was somewhat undermined by the sparkly birthday hat Maya had clearly bullied him into wearing. “The last singing telegram we sent him ended up in Siberia.”

“You’re joking.” Alora paused. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Hunter’s completely serious expression cracked into a grin. “Maybe. Maybe not. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Maya warned. “He thinks being mysterious makes him seem cool instead of just annoying.”

“Speaking of mysterious...” Hunter nodded toward the door where Navi hovered uncertainly with a stack of lab reports. “I thought we banned work tonight?”

“Those better not be test results,” Maya called out.

Navi’s freckled face flushed. “They’re not! Well, mostly not. It’s just... we had a breakthrough in the compatibility studies, and I thought Dr. Sky would want to...”

“Nope!” Maya intercepted the reports before Alora could grab them. “No science tonight. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not that kind of doctor,” Alora pointed out.

“Neither are you, technically.”

“I have three PhDs!”

“And zero medical licenses, which means I can absolutely prescribe you a night off.” Maya tucked the reports safely away. “They’ll still be here tomorrow.”

More guests filtered in – a mix of shifters and humans that would have been unthinkable just months ago. Alora recognized faces from the research department mingling with members of Rehan’s pride. Her parents had sent their regrets, tied up with their own research, but promised to visit soon.

Dr. Lee from neurology was deep in conversation with a young tiger shifter about brain chemistry. Two of Hunter’s security team challenged some visiting wolves to what appeared to be a very intense game of charades. Even the normally standoffish biochem department had turned up, though they huddled in their usual corner.

A ripple of awareness passed through the shifters moments before Rehan appeared in the doorway. His imposing presence drew every eye, but Alora noticed how his gaze softened when it landed on Sierra. His sister’s condition weighed on him, though he tried to hide it.

Then his eyes found Alora, and something in her chest did a complicated little flip. His expression shifted from confusion to resignation to something warmer as he took in the decorations.

“Surprise?” She gave a little wave. “Before you say anything, this was totally Maya’s idea. I only supplied the terrible puns.”

Rehan crossed the room with that predatory grace that still made Alora’s breath catch. Up close, she noticed the faint shadows under his eyes – he’d been pushing himself too hard lately and worried about Sierra.

“I distinctly remember saying no parties,” he said, but his tone lacked heat.

“Technically, you said no ‘ elaborate celebrations.’” Alora gestured to the decorations. “This is purely simple. Basic, even. Practically austere.”

“Austere.” His gaze traveled pointedly from the tiger-striped banners to the twinkling lights to the suspiciously large cake box Maya was attempting to hide behind a potted plant. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

“Would you prefer ‘minimalist’?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “How long did you spend thinking up tiger puns?”

“That’s classified information, Mr. Kedi.” She grinned. “Though I do have a whole list saved for future use. Consider it incentive to keep funding my research.”

“Threatening me at my own party?”

“I prefer to think of it as positive reinforcement.”

A genuine smile started to form – and died as security alarms blared to life. Red emergency lights bathed the festivities in crimson, turning the cheerful decorations sinister. Rehan’s partial shift was instant, eyes blazing amber as his claws extended.

Hunter burst through the door, expression grim. “Security systems are failing systematically. Someone’s?—”

The main doors exploded inward.