A Lost Kitten Page 10

  Avarice slipped unseen through the front door. She sat in the rocking chair beside her daughter. “Jasira, huhnee…”

  Jasira heard the concern in her mother’s voice. She glanced sideways at her. It seemed that her mother had something on her mind. Her father exited the house and stood by the railing, facing them.

  “Please do not take this the wrong way,” she said. “We love having you around but…you have been here a week. Do you not wish to go back to John?”

  Jasira closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

  “Our descendants cannot be born if you are here and he is at the sitee,” said Brodi.

  Jasira felt a twinge in her heart. Her features twisted in pain.

  “We thought you liked youngsters,” said Avarice.

  “I love youngsters, muhder.” She looked at her parents. “Why do you think I still work with Nadia, the midwahyf? Or why I wanted the position of headmistress? For five days, they are my youngsters.”

  “If you remain in mist form, they will be your only youngsters,” added Brodi. “You must go back to the sitee.”

  Jasira switched her attention to the trees at the left side of the house.

  “Jasira, if you are going to be the permanent mate to a warrior, you must act like a warrior.”

  “He does not want me!” she yelled at her father.

  “He is your kindred spirit,” Avarice gently reminded her.

  “So what?” snapped Jasira. “Others have had their kindred spirit abandon them. Where are they now?” She met her parents’ stare in turn. “Dead.”

  “That will not happen to you.”

  “It already has, muhder. He threw me out of my own houz. He told me never to return. Never to touch him again. He does not want me.”

  “Give him another chance.”

  “For what? For the same thing to happen again?”

  “For you to know for certain where your destiny lies,” Brodi clarified.

  “I already know. I have no future.”

  “If that is true, then we will leave Surreal together.”

  Jasira stared up at her father. She saw he was serious.

  “You are no coward, Jasira. You are my dawder. You will face this head-on as I have taught you to do so all your life.”

  Avarice placed her hand on Jasira’s hand. “What do you have to lose, huhnee?”

  Jasira did not hesitate with answering. “John.”

  John knocked on Jasira’s door every day for the next five days. Through her window, he saw nothing move inside. On entering her home, he could not detect her scent or her energy force. On the sixth day, John stopped Yudit in the palace corridor and spoke to him about it.

  The king sighed. “Jasira went to her pairunts’ hohm in the mountains after you kicked her out of her houz. She has not returned.”

  “How long do her visits normally last?”

  “That depends on Jasira. Sometimes it’s weeks; sometimes, several lunar cycles.”

  “Months!” John exclaimed.

  Yudit shrugged.

  “What about her jobs?”

  “I learned a long time ago to trust Jasira. She is excellent at her job. During her vacations, she places a very competent educator in charge. The skool has been exceptional under her leadership. The stoodntz love her. I do not get in her way. Excuse me.” With that, the king began to walk away.

  John chased after him. “What about Bogdan? He should have returned from visiting his family by now. Where is he? I have to get off this planet. I have a war to return to.”

  “Bogdan is still at his hohm. He’s expecting his first infant. His permanent mate has suffered complications, and he is by her side.”

  “What about my ride home?”

  “I can spare no one at this time. Perhaps in a few lunar cycles.”

  “A few months! I have to go home now! That was our deal!”

  The king’s expression grew cold. “Remember whom you are addressing!” Yudit snapped. “And your deal was made with Bogdan. Discuss the matter with him.” With that, he left.

  “Where does he live?” he yelled at Yudit’s departing back. Yudit never answered.

  John fumed at the king’s superior attitude. Perhaps he should tell the Surrealan king that his family ruled the Sea-anan Empire. No. His family never used their title to get what they wanted, unless they had no other options. His mind quickly switched to his family. Was there an empire left to return to? Did he still have a family?

  His face crumbled. He had been gone for too long. How many of his family members had been killed by Dominion hands? John rubbed his face and took a deep breath. He prayed none had fallen. He hoped they remembered Challen’s training. He hoped he still had something to return to. Pushing his hands into his pockets, John left the castle.

  He went straight to Jasira’s house without glancing at anyone. He entered the house. No one was home. John inhaled and started coughing violently. The cold was beginning to affect his lungs. If that continued, he would not be able to breathe under water. He would grow weak. His lungs would stop accepting oxygen, eventually suffocating him. He needed to get rid of the cold. How could he do that when there was no warm spot on the planet? Even Jasira’s house had become cold with her absence.

  Coughing, John phased through the door. He walked several steps away then halted. He sniffed the air. Did he dare believe what he smelled? He quickly took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. With his sinuses cleared, John sniffed the air. It was there. Stronger. He spun around. He saw nothing but the usual people going about their daily activities.

  John anxiously went back to the house. “Jasira?” He reached out with his senses. He felt an energy surge near the window. He walked toward it. “Jasira, is that you?” He paused in front of the door. “Please let me know if it is you.”

  The energy sphere did not move. John inhaled. The strong vanilla scent made his limbs weak. He knew he had missed it, but he did not realize how much he longed to smell it until that moment.

  John stared in the direction of the invisible energy sphere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Yudit told me everything. He told me about…” How should he phrase it? He did not want to insult her and have her leave again. He remembered Yudit’s words. “…about the people of the mist. I was surprised. I…didn’t expect anything like this. I thought you were like me. I apologize for yelling at you…for insulting you…for throwing you out of your own house. I was stupid. I was letting my past control me. I was acting like Oren and the—” John stopped. He had to push Oren and the Oceanans out of his head. He came to apologize not tell her about his childhood nightmares.

  “Can you forgive me?” John held his breath. The sphere remained by the window. “Jasira, please. I’m sorry.” It did not move toward him. It did not reach out to touch him. John gritted his teeth. He could not force her. “I’m sorry.” He turned around and briskly walked back to the castle.

  His soul wept. John rubbed his left eye. It was wet. What was he doing? Why was he feeling this way? Jasira was a ghost. Why did he long for her touch, her warmth? His eyes closed. His head lowered. His body felt heavy.

  Jasira gaped at John as he walked away. Her parents were right. Her kindred soul was sorry for his actions. He had asked for forgiveness. Did that mean he missed her? Did that mean she still had a chance at a future with him? John’s words rekindled her hope. But something was amiss.

  She curbed her joy and viewed how John was walking. He was stooped over, so unlike his normal straight posture. He had looked pale and sickly. Jasira gasped. She remembered she had heard him coughing. Was he sick? She had to find out. But first, she had to check on her students. She sailed toward the school and entered through the front door.

  .

  Chapter 7

  John ushered a protesting Dena out of his room. What was it about ‘no’ that was not easy to accept?

  “But, John—”

  “Enough already, jeez,” said John, locking the door. He returned to his bed to
remove the layers of clothing he wore. He lowered into the hot bath, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

  Three days had passed since his visit to Jasira’s house. He had not returned since then. Jasira had not approached him, either. It was apparent she did not want anything to do with him, just as the king had predicted.

  If Jasira was alive, he would have apologized more appropriately. John would have set up a romantic candlelight dinner for two. They would have danced to slow music. What would have happened next made John’s sleeping member wake up beneath the steaming water.

  Jasira’s touch, her taste, had remained with him. He bore no scars to prove it, but oddly, John felt it in his soul. Jasira had marked him. It was no use. He could not shake it. It was as intense as the cold around him. His soul needed Jasira. It missed her. It wanted her. It was official. He had lost his mind.

  John blamed it on Areo for giving him the job of building Sea Base Ten, on Bogdan for making a promise and not keeping it, on Daehog and his greed for domination, and on everything logical that kept him from a real relationship with a real woman.

  John raised his knees. He placed his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. He cried out in torment. He wished the Dominion had killed him. He would be dead, at peace, instead of fantasizing about a ghost.

  The pressure on his right shoulder was sudden. Startled, John looked behind him. He thought that perhaps Dena had managed to get into his room without him hearing her. He was alone. John felt a finger brush his right cheek. He gasped. He scanned the room with his senses. An energy force was behind him.

  “Jasira,” he whispered. His heart pounded. His eyes filled with instant tears. Feeling foolish, he quickly turned his face to the blazing fire. “I didn’t smell you come in. My nose is stuffed up.” Jasira’s small hands did not return to his shoulders. Did he offend her by turning away? “I’m glad you’re here.”

  It was her turn. What would he do if she disappeared? The seconds seemed like hours. John felt Jasira’s nose burying itself in his hair. He closed his eyes before his annoying tears fell. Her right hand slipped from his shoulder down his chest. Growing weak, John leaned back against the tub, wishing it was against her body instead. He purred.

  John kept his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of Jasira’s hand roaming across his chest and stomach. It burned him though it was a soft, hesitant touch. John purred louder. He sensed Jasira shifting to his right. Smoothing back his hair, her fingers traced his features. John turned toward that invisible hand. He could not help it. He craved her touch. Those gentle fingers paused on his mouth. His lips pulsed with need. She moved no more.

  John opened his eyes. There was no one beside him, but he knew Jasira was there. His senses were locked onto her. It was a tug-of-war between logic and desire.

  “K…kiss me, p…please,” he cried. Feeling her plush lips, he audibly moaned.

  His eyes squeezed shut as he kissed Jasira with a hunger that surprised him. He gripped the tub. His knuckles whitened with the effort it took to keep from reaching out to her. He sat up, pressing his lips firmly against hers. His tongue dueled furiously.

  John cried into Jasira’s open mouth in frustration. He wanted to grab her and devour her, but he could not. He refused to think why. Her hands traveled over his chest. His soul trembled with excitement. They crept downward, into the water and further. John accidently broke their kiss when he felt her fingers skim the length of his erection. He sensed her pulling back.

  “No!” he cried out. “Don’t stop.” He lifted his mouth in a pleading gesture to where he believed her lips were. “I need you. I’ve missed you.”

  Her mouth returned. Her fingers wrapped firmly around his arousal. John bucked in Jasira’s hand and growled. Her hand moved slowly at first. John thought he was going to explode from the pure ecstasy of her touch. The fire Jasira started weeks ago erupted in his core. His eyes ignited. John roared from its intensity. His head dropped backward, over the tub. His legs fell apart, urging Jasira for more. His entire focus was on Jasira’s hand, not on his claws extending while he held the tub’s edge.

  “Jasira,” he called out to her. His hips moved against her hand. “More. Don’t stop.”

  Jasira gave John what he wanted. Her left hand explored his chest, arms, and stomach. Her right hand continued to rise and lower. John growled. Her touch was better than he remembered.

  “Kiss me.” His lips reached up to hers. “I need to taste you.” Jasira complied with a need that matched his own.

  John’s soul was ablaze. It scorched him from the inside out. He never felt such intense heat, such passion, such need. It was mind-boggling. It consumed him. He could think of nothing else. There was nothing except Jasira and the way she made him feel.

  She gripped him tighter. John desperately clung to the tub. Her hand moved faster. The sizzling energy in him soared higher. John could not take much more. His mutant form made him too sensitive. He broke their kiss, needing to breath.

  “Jasira!” John lifted his hips off the bottom of the tub. “Faster!” His head fell back as Jasira obeyed. His eyes grew brighter. His core exploded. An electrifying energy blast shot throughout John’s body. With a mighty roar, he erupted.

  Jasira landed on her rump. Dazed, she remained there for several seconds. She did not understand what had happened. One minute she was pleasing her kindred soul, the next it felt like a thousand volts shot through her hands, up her arms, and into her core.

  She gasped and jumped to her knees. John’s face was tilted upward. His eyes closed. He was not moving. She tapped his face. He was unresponsive. What happened? What was the electricity she felt? Why had John lost consciousness?

  She tapped his cheek some more. No use. He was not waking up. Jasira studied John’s face. He seemed at peace. Maybe it was supposed to happen this way. Maybe he was weaker than usual because he was ill. Concluding that was it, Jasira decided to leave. It was late and John apparently needed his sleep. She kissed his lips and left.

  John awoke the following morning with a smile on his face. Despite sleeping in a cramp tub, he felt rested. His soul’s anguish seemed lessened. He opened his eyes and looked around. The room was empty. The fire had long ago died in the hearth. He used his supernatural senses to scan the room. They confirmed what his eyes saw. Nothing.

  His brows drew together. Was it all a dream? He sat up. Did Jasira enter his room last night? He glanced at the water. His enhanced eyesight noticed something odd. He swirled the water slightly. A milky substance streaked the water. It was no dream.

  John grabbed the soap, then hesitated at a thought. Unless… He shook the thought out of his mind and started washing. He was ten the last time he’d had a wet dream; it was before his first mating experience. Jasira had entered his room and sent his soul soaring to the heavens with her touch. His smile grew as he started to remember.

  At breakfast, reality started to sink in. John’s embarrassment increased. He could not look anyone in the eyes. He locked himself in his room afterward, asking for his lunch to be sent to his room. By dinnertime, he felt mortified.

  What was he thinking? Was he that sexually frustrated that he would turn to a ghost for mating? Was he that mentally gone that he found a spirit more satisfying than a real woman?

  John leaned on the window frame with his arms crossed. He stared out the window, to the left. He could see the schoolhouse in the distance. Jasira’s little house was a few feet away from it.

  There was no doubt about it. Jasira pleased John’s soul like no other. The climax he had experienced was earth shattering. John had heard felines speaking of similar orgasms. However, they were talking about the fusing of their souls with their mates’. John’s experience was not the same, though it sure felt like it.

  John rubbed his face with both hands. His family would think he was crazy for allowing it to happen. They would place him in a nuthouse if they knew how much he enjoyed it, or how much he wished Jasira was with him now. He exhaled and crossed his arms
. It was crazy. It could not happen again. His heart spasmed. His soul cried in protest. He was crazy.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” he said. He stayed by the window, staring at Jasira’s house.

  Dena and five others entered with buckets of hot water and his dinner. John ignored them, along with Dena’s side-glances.

  As soon as the bath was ready, the men exited the room. Dena stopped next to John.

  “John, your bath is ready.”

  “Thanks,” he answered, distracted.

  “You need to take your medicine, and your dinner is getting cold.”

  “Leave them there,” he replied, without glancing her way. “Goodnight.”

  “John—”

  “Goodnight,” he said more firmly.

  Dena sighed and left the room. John was left with his thoughts.

  The following day was Monday. John waited until school ended to exit the castle. With determined steps, he headed to Jasira’s house. He would tell her it could never happen again.

  He felt a sharp pain in his heart. He coughed. Each time he thought of ending what had barely begun, it was the same. His heart would hurt. His soul would resist. John ignored them both. He hated feeling like a cheating dog. He refused to be a horny one also. He would end it, and that was that.

  John knocked on Jasira’s door. A bout of coughing assaulted him. It lasted longer than the last time. Dena’s cold remedies were not working; his chest cold was getting worse. He had awoken several times during the night, gasping for air. He was struggling with breathing underwater. He had to shake the cold or he would die.

  The door opened. He could not catch his breath to say hello. When his cough finally ended, John was dizzy. He braced himself on the doorframe and groaned.

  Jasira’s warm touch on his cheek and forehead helped ease his suffering. “Shoot me and put me out of my misery,” he moaned.

  John sensed Jasira moving away. He clamped his lips on his protest. He saw one of the chairs at the dining table being pulled out. He understood.