A Lost Kitten Page 5

  John slowed his pace. That familiar cold erased all traces of the warmth he had found at the school. He peeked over his shoulder at the white building. There was definitely something odd with that place.

  He bumped into something solid. “Bogdan, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Are you all right?”

  “Actually…” John said, looking at the school, “can you tell me if there’s something I ought to know about that school?”

  Bogdan regarded the school from where they stood. “Like what?”

  “Like if a ghost resides there.”

  “A ghost?”

  Bogdan suddenly looked guilty. “Yeah.” John noticed the slight anxious movements he made from side to side.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because it’s an old building. A lot of old buildings have history and lingering specters. I wondered if this one has both.”

  “Well…that bilding has stood there for centuries as our houz of worship. And it is very special. It miraculously survived the war unscathed. That’s why the king converted it into a skool—a blessed haven for our youngsters to learn in. So it does have history.” Bogdan shook his head. “But no ghosts.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Where are you off to?”

  John detected Bogdan was eager to change the subject. Could he be lying about the ghost? “Back to my room.” He rubbed his arms. “I’m freezing. Is Surreal normally this cold?”

  “I wish there was a chill in the air.” Bogdan tugged on his collar. “It’s stifling hot today.”

  John saw the beads of sweat pouring down Bogdan’s face. It made him pause before his next words. “Um…when are we leaving?”

  “I have to take several packages to neighboring vilijez, which means several days of travel on horseback. When I return, we can prepare to leave. I have to go, John. I will talk to you later.”

  “Bye.” John watched him hurry off.

  Bogdan’s manner told John more than his words did. He was hiding something. What was it? The delay in departure had John on edge. Bogdan’s hollow excuses told him something was amiss. Plus, the stares Bogdan and King Yudit kept sending his way were suspicious. John no longer trusted them.

  By next morning, John began to think that perhaps he had imagined what happened at the schoolhouse. However, King Yudit’s and Bogdan’s odd behaviors continued. During dinner that Thursday, they stared at him yet again. John grew uncomfortable. Frustrated with what was happening, he left his dinner unfinished. That infamous McCall temper was steadily rising in him.

  He found one of the housekeepers in the corridor wiping down a table and a vase. John’s anger spurred his decision to give up the pretense that a hand towel wash was enough. It might work for Surrealans or for people in the olden days, but John needed to submerge his body in water if he was to keep his strength up. Plus, towel washing did not leave him feeling cleansed. Felines liked to keep themselves well-groomed.

  He asked the middle-aged woman where he could take a shower. The maid confirmed that the citizens of Surreal took baths on a biweekly basis, and that John should have a washcloth and a basin in his room. John politely insisted that a hot bath be brought to his room. The woman promised to have a tub sent to his room as soon as the water was heated. John thanked her and left.

  Dena arrived with five men. The men placed the copper tub they carried in front of the fireplace, then left. John stood beside the only window in the room. He watched Dena pour several buckets of steaming water into the tub. He found her attractive; her movements were graceful like a cat. The scent of lilac reached his nose. He looked at the bucket she placed by his bed. Perhaps it could be one of the products she carried.

  “Would you like me to scrub your back?”

  John covered his surprise with a cough. “What did you say?”

  “Would you like for me to scrub your back?”

  With a side grin, he asked, “Do you normally do such things?”

  “Yes.”

  That erased his smile. John immediately pictured Dena bathing other men. He wondered how many of those men she had slept with. Perhaps Dena knew a trick or two she could teach him. That placed a larger smile back on his face.

  “Thanks,” John said, “but there’s no need.” He read the disappointment on her face. He knew what would make her happy. “Would you like to have lunch with me on your day off?”

  “I’m off Tuesdays and Wednesdays,” Dena happily told him.

  “Then next Tuesday it is.” He escorted her to the door and watched her hurry down the corridor. There was a spring to her step.

  John closed the door and made sure it was securely locked. He returned to the bed to remove his soiled clothes. He eagerly lowered into the hot water. A familiar wave of pure heat raced through his body as a membrane of skin developed between each of his fingers and toes. His senses grew sharper. He detected distant voices and smells inside and outside the castle. He kept his eyes closed, for his sharper vision was more suited for seeing underwater.

  John found it a bit difficult to breathe, so he leaned back against the tub and slipped his head underneath the steaming water. He remained there, inhaling deep, allowing the water’s heat to seep into his bones. It succeeded in erasing the chill that resided there. A chill that even the blaze from the fireplace could not eradicate. It felt wonderful to be in his amphibian form. He felt stronger, healthier, and more at ease being in his second skin.

  He wondered how Dena would react if he allowed her to see him transform. Undoubtedly, she would act like many before her who had never come across a McCall. She would have freaked out and viewed him as a monster. John sat up. He reached for the soap and began to wash.

  Finished with his bath, John quickly patted his body dry and leapt under the covers. He lay on his back. Sleep eluded him, thanks to his worries on the war and the cold. He forced all thoughts from his mind, hoping that would allow him to fall asleep.

  He noticed an increase in the room’s temperature. At last, the fire was heating up the room. He detected the hint of vanilla in the air. He was determined to find the source tomorrow.

  John knew when he was thoroughly dried, for he felt his body return to normal. It became uncomfortably hot under the heavy quilt. He lowered the blanket to his hips. He deeply inhaled the delicious fragrance in the air and allowed it to wash over him, relaxing him further.

  Jasira stood above John. She indeed loved looking at his bare torso. Having felt no sensations for two decades, and knowing she would be able to feel him, she could not resist the temptation of familiarizing herself with his chiseled body. Therefore, she waited for the right moment.

  When John seemed to have drifted off, she gently touched his cheek. The smoothness of his face made her smile. Her hands lowered to the muscles at his chest. Her eyes fluttered closed. John felt exactly how she believed he would. Hard. Solid. Completely masculine.

  Since the night of the celebration, Jasira could not get John off her mind. Once she had overcome the shock of seeing him go through a solid door the day before, she tried to plan her next move. She thought it best to go slow. However, it was going to be difficult. John’s good looks made her extremely impatient to feel again.

  While she sat beside John, Jasira enjoyed the many peaks and valleys that made up his chest and stomach. His skin was warm to the touch. It placed tears in her eyes. She had forgotten what warmth felt like. She traced each small muscle with her fingers. Lower and lower they went, pausing at his narrow hips, just above the quilt’s edge.

  Back up they traveled to repeat the journey. Jasira stared at John’s face. She had wanted a permanent mate, any man. She had not been concerned with how he looked, as long as he was a man of honor and courageous. As she stared at John’s perfect features, she was overjoyed at how handsome he was.

  Jasira lowered her face to John’s. She stayed in that position for a while, observing him. She was slow to recognize another sensation she had forgotten—smell. Ja
sira sniffed John. The scent of clean skin mixed with pine made her features crumble. It was the soap John had used in his bath. Now she understood what the others meant when they spoke about pine scent.

  Closing her eyes, she placed her nose on John’s cheek and drew his scent deeper into her lungs. Tears formed beneath her lowered lashes. She ordered herself not to lose control of her emotions again. It took concentration, but she managed to stay calm.

  Her nose roamed over John’s forehead, cheek, nose, and chin. Her hands returned to exploring his chest and stomach. Gradually, Jasira became aware of another feeling. It started in the center of her core and steadily increased the longer she remained where she sat. This new feeling was powerful. It drowned out all reason. She lost track of where she was, of what she was doing. Jasira was being consumed by the feel and scent of her kindred soul.

  John showed signs of waking up. Signs Jasira missed, for her eyes were glued to his plush lips. Without hesitating, she opened her mouth above his. Her tongue unhurriedly traced the outline of John’s mouth. Her features grew dreamy. Greedy for more, Jasira plunged deep into a moist cavern where she was met by an eager mate.

  John fought to remain asleep. If this was a dream, he did not want to wake up. He thought of the maiden, Dena. She must have snuck into his room and was trying to seduce him. Her lips were hungry, greedy for his. It was the hottest kiss he had ever experienced.

  Fully awake, John growled into her passionate mouth and eagerly dueled with her seeking tongue. He was right. Dena was well experienced. Her roaming hands started a fire in John that quickly rose in potency. His mouth opened wider. His heart filled with joy at her enthusiastic response.

  John detected a strong vanilla scent. Perhaps it was Dena’s scent after all, and the lilac was from the products she carried with her. He inhaled. The vanilla mingled with a more arousing perfume. John drew both fragrances into his lungs. His soul shivered with excitement, wanting more.

  On a groan, John reached upward, intending to press those delicious lips closer. He jolted when his own hand slapped his face. He sat up in bed; going through Jasira’s bent form. Jasira stood from her seat. She tried to slow down her breathing, as did John as he searched the quiet room.

  Was it a dream? With a confused expression, John fingered his lips. It could not be. The kiss felt unbelievably real. He could still feel those warm, soft lips on his. He sniffed the air. The aroma of vanilla mixed with a woman’s arousal was potent. It caused his soul to quiver with restrained need. He touched his chest. It burned from her explorations. His aroused body longed for more.

  What was going on? How could it have been a dream? None of his dreams were ever that good. A woman must be in his room. John jumped off his bed and looked around. He found no one. He raced to the front door to inspect it. It was locked from the inside, just as he had left it. How was that possible?

  He returned to his bed and sat on the mattress. He thought of the school, of the massage, of the feminine body pressed along his back. Had a ghost followed him to the castle?

  John sniffed the air. The pleasant smells were fading. He shivered. The cold was returning. It helped to tame his throbbing need. He quickly placed another log in the fire and jumped underneath the covers.

  Maybe it was a dream. He sure hoped so. He did not want to believe a female ghost was haunting him. He had dealt with ghosts in the past. None of them were nice. The ghosts were extremely hostile, violent, and deadly. His team suffered severely before they managed to vanquish the ghosts. He hated ghosts and did not trust them.

  John turned onto his side and raised the covers to his nose. Thinking more clearly, he thought of all his ghostly encounters. All the signs were the same. And not. There were auras, like his vanilla scent. When the ghosts appeared, the area became cold, unlike now, when it became warm. Those ghosts tried to kill him. This one erased his stress with a warm massage and made him forget the nightmare he was living with a magical kiss.

  John felt his soul respond to the memory. No! he barked at it. It’s a ghost, not a real woman. I won’t fall for its tricks. It’s up to something. It wants me to lower my guard so it can strike. Well, it won’t work. I’ve dealt with ghosts too many times to fall for it.

  John rubbed his face, feeling temporarily unhinged. What was he thinking? He was allowing his suspicions of Bogdan and Yudit to cloud his judgment. He was, after all, in an old castle. There were probably a dozen secret passageways behind the walls. He must have a secret admirer who snuck in, kissed him, and ran out before he saw her. John inhaled deeply. That was it. No kissing ghost. Just a foolish young girl. And John believed he knew which girl it was.

  Jasira exited through the castle doors. She arrived at the little house beside the school and entered through a sidewall. She immediately went to sit at the kitchen table. Groaning, Jasira placed her face in her hands and thought of John. His erection engraved itself in her mind. She had seen plenty of naked men, of all races, but none had awakened her need to mate before. How was she going to get through tomorrow’s lessons? She would have to find a way.

  .

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, John dressed in two sets of clothes. They did nothing to keep out the ever-present chill. Over breakfast, he asked King Yudit if there was work he could do to pass the time away.

  The king swallowed his mouthful of food. “Of course not. View your stay on Surreal as an unexpected vacation before returning to war.”

  “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’m a warrior and a hard worker. I don’t lounge around.”

  Yudit lowered his mug of tea. “I must insist, John. You are my guest. As my guest, you are not allowed to work.”

  “But I don’t mind—”

  “I do.”

  John inhaled deeply. He did not want to argue with the king, so he dropped the subject and took several bites of his food. He drank his hot tea slowly. It eased the cold but did not chase it away.

  “Is Surreal this cold all the time?”

  The king regarded him oddly. “Surreal’s temperature never drops below forty degrees for five lunar cycles during low season. Now it’s the start of peak season, when the planet’s temperature does not drop below ninety for seven lunar cycles.” He continued to eat.

  John rechecked his ears. “Did you say below ninety?”

  Yudit nodded.

  “That’s impossible. I can’t shake this cold feeling. I can’t find a warm place anywhere unless it’s under hot water.”

  The king eyed the amount of clothes John wore. “Perhaps you are ill?”

  John scratched his head and left it alone. Maybe he was ill. He decided to change the topic and question Yudit about the school and the ghost he encountered.

  Yudit was a bit slow in hiding his lack of surprise. “A ghost, you say?”

  John nodded.

  “Why do you think there is a ghost at the skool?”

  John told him, altering the truth slightly.

  King Yudit wiped his mouth. “I admit that my race is an old one, but there are no ghosts living in the kasuhl or on royal grounds.” He pushed back his seat. “Now if you would excuse me, I have some important business to address. Enjoy your breakfast.” He hurried off, leaving John with unanswered questions.

  John found the king’s abrupt departure odd. He looked at Yudit’s plate of food. It was half-eaten. John concluded Bogdan and Yudit knew more about the ghost than they were willing to say. But why the secrecy?

  Losing his appetite, and with nothing else to do, John went for a walk outside. He asked the local merchants if he could work for them, even Dena’s parents. He learned how quickly the king’s word spread. It appeared that walking was about the only thing he was allowed to do during his stay on Surreal. That, plus eating.

  When it was time to sleep, John found it upsetting that he could not replicate the dream he’d had of the amazing kiss. He focused on how wonderful that kiss was for the next two nights, hoping to fall asleep and dream of the woman. Per
haps if he was lucky, he would see her.

  Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. She did not return to him, and John missed her terribly. He cursed himself. No woman had this sort of affect on him. Still, his soul refused to let it go. It felt abandoned. Lost. He could not shake the feeling, not even after spending Tuesday and Wednesday with Dena.

  John discovered Dena was not the source of the vanilla scent. Nor was she the one who had kissed him. He had believed it was her. Only seconds into their first kiss, he was aware of her different style. Not one of her kisses aroused him like the one he’d had in his bedroom. This meant the kiss was a dream. For sanity reasons, he had to forget it. But how, when even Dena could not make him forget?

  John sought the sun’s heat daily. It failed to warm him. He was amazed at how those around him complained about the heat while he could not stop shivering. He walked briskly, even ran around the grounds several times each day. Amazingly, a few minutes after he stopped, the cold would return. At times, his teeth would chatter.

  By the following week, he began to think that maybe he had caught a bug, since he was the only one affected. It was strange, since he felt fine except for the cold sensation that refused to leave him. What made it more difficult to endure was that he had no respite unless he was bathing. Therefore, he took to sleeping underwater.

  John finished his morning run. He braced himself on his knees and took deep breaths. Like before, he shivered two minutes later. His mind remembered a place where he did feel warm while out of water—the classroom. His gaze drifted in that location. He had avoided that area since his last visit. He gritted his teeth and started walking.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” he mumbled, then smiled, remembering the phrase that was his cousin Dart’s favorite comeback. Satisfaction brought him back.

  John stopped a few feet in front of the closed double doors. Was the place haunted? Then again, if it was, why did he feel warm inside? If the person who had given him a massage was a ghost, her touch should have been cold, not warm. It should have frightened him away, not made him want to stay. John was so confused he no longer knew what to think. The cold was making him desperate. Desperate enough to befriend a ghost—if there was one.