A Lost Kitten (10 page)

John’s claws lengthened without his knowing. Jasira’s second hand stopped its magical voyage over his torso and limbs and cupped the back of his head. She rubbed her nose around John’s. Her arousal filled the room, increasing John’s urgency to claim her. He whispered her name as he sought her delicious mouth.

Jasira pressed her lips more firmly against his. Her hand tugged him harder. John groaned. The burning in his soul increased. His eyes ignited behind his lowered lids. Growling, he intensified their kiss. Jasira knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. Her lips lifted.

“I want you, Jasira,” John huskily admitted. He opened his eyes. Through their glow, he saw the ceiling. He glanced around. The kitchen was empty.

“Jasira?”

His brows drew together. He audibly groaned. His brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Nothing. There was no one there, yet a hand continued to bring him immense pleasure. He could barely think.

“Stop,” he managed to get out between clenched teeth. John released his grip on the tub and tried to pry those ghostly fingers open. An anxious cry escaped him when he could not grab the hand that refused to let go. John finally understood what was happening. The energy in his soul was skyrocketing. The glow of his eyes grew brighter.

“No!” He struggled to get the hand off, but all he came in contact with was his own flesh. “Stop!” His head fell back. His hips jerked upward involuntarily. He fought to keep from reaching fulfillment by focusing on his anger. “Damn it! I said stop it!”

The hand suddenly released him. John vaulted from the tub and rushed into the bedroom, away from the spirit. He slammed the door closed. He began to pace the length of the room. It was difficult. He was too aroused. He could not think of anything but satisfying his need. John stopped and clasped his manhood. Within seconds, his seed spurted over his knuckles.

With that taken care of, his anger was quick to take control. John roared his outrage. He snarled at the door. The brown light in his eyes shone brighter. His claws were long and sharp. If he could have touched the spirit, he would have strangled her.

John snatched a hand towel from inside a crate beside the fireplace and wiped his hand and root. He threw it onto the bed and grabbed a set of folded clothes from the top of the dresser. He jammed his pants on. He thrust his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. Without bothering to button it, John stormed into the kitchen.

“You bitch! How dare you touch me! I’m a Seacat from the Sea-anan Empire! You had no right to lay your ghostly hands on me! Where are you? Show yourself!” He waited. His eyes raced from one end of the room to the other, seeking the apparition. John wanted to see her. He wanted to get his hands on her. He wanted to kill her a second time.

“Show yourself!” He walked up to the tub. “I know you can do it! Don’t play coy now! You wanted my attention! Now you have it! Show yourself!”

John struggled with his temper. He tried to breathe slower. His leg brushed against the tub. There was a twang in his chest. He refused to look at the tub. He refused to think of anything except getting his hands on the spirit and teaching her a lesson.

“You don’t touch a Seacat unless that Seacat wants to be touched!” John growled. “Answer me, damn you! I know you’re here! I can smell you!” His hands balled into fists. He did his best to keep his senses and mind off the scent of her arousal. It caused an unwanted stirring in his gut.

“Who the hell are you? Where in hell did you come from? Why did you do this to me?” The room was silent. “Why are you using Jasira’s scent? What game are you playing at?” He waited. His ears detected the distant voices of the guards.

His lips pulled over his teeth. John reached for his boots at the front door. “All right, then, since you’re too much of a coward to show yourself, listen good. Don’t you ever touch me again. I’m not your plaything. I’m a warrior. So unless you want me to bind your misty ass to a tree, I suggest you leave this house and never return. This house belongs to Jasira. And you’re not welcome here.”

John stood tall. He sniffed the air. The apparition was still there. Her sexual scent was overwhelming all others, causing havoc to his senses, diffusing his anger. It was refueling the fire that had burned in his core minutes before. He could not let it resurface.

John quickly flung the front door open. He stepped underneath the frame and inhaled several times. For once, he welcomed the cold air. For once, he hated being a feline.

The call to mate was difficult for a feline to curb. They were sexually mature by age ten. The drive to mate was strong in both genders. The females could control their urges better than the males, reaching age thirteen and above before being with their first mate. The males generally held off one year before succumbing to their needs. John was one of the males who had started mating at ten. He had been too weak to fight off certain perfumes then, but he refused to be weak now.

“Get out, and don’t come back. I meant what I said. You’re not welcome here.”

The outside cold gave way to warmth. John’s racing heart thumped in his chest. He could tell the spirit was nearing him. He swallowed and stood soldier stiff. He hoped she did not see his weakness rising in his pants.

John felt the spirit finger his lips. He licked his lips before he realized what he had done. He jerked his head away. “Don’t touch me.” He glared at the spot where he believed she stood. “Don’t come back.” His jaw clenched.

The outside cold slapped John in the face. It seeped into his bones quickly. He shivered. He sniffed the air. The vanilla fragrance gradually gave way to the smell of manure from the nearby stable. John wiped his mouth with the back of his right hand. The spirit was gone.

His glowing gaze landed on the castle. Hatred filled his core. John entered the house to retrieve his jacket. He slammed the door on his way out. Stomping toward the castle, he yanked the jacket on and buttoned his shirt. The only good thing about the cold was that it helped kill his urge. It did nothing for a feline’s second primal need, the need to hunt.

Jasira darted blindly to the city’s main entrance. The guards called out to her, asking her to stop. She ignored them and sailed through the wall. The guards called after her. She sped over the dry terrain, toward the dark mountains, blinded by tears.

Why did she do it? Why had she touched him? She sobbed. She knew why. John was too beautiful to resist. He was her kindred soul. Because of him, she was able to feel, to smell. This made her need to know him, to be with him as his permanent mate, more difficult to suppress.

Jasira hurried onward. Her thoughts were on John’s parting words. He did not want her to return. He did not want her to go near him. He did not want her touching him. Jasira’s heart was broken; her hopes shattered. She slowed down and dropped to her knees. Her kindred soul wanted nothing to do with her. Her cries rose in volume, disappearing on the wind.

John missed a step on hearing Jasira’s name being called. He realized it was the guards by the main entrance. He turned around and hurried to them. They were facing the land beyond the wall.

He called out to them. “You there! Were you calling out to Jasira? Is she returning home?”

“No,” said one guard.

“She just ran off to the north,” answered the second.

“Ran off,” mumbled John. “You mean she just left? Just now?”

“Yes, sir,” they jointly replied.

John found that odd. “How is that possible? You didn’t open the doors.”

The guards shared a worried look. Without replying, they returned to patrolling the wall.

“Hey!” John called to them. They ignored him. Shaking his head, John decided to investigate further later. For now, he about-faced and continued onward to the castle.

On entering the dining hall, he spotted several maids clearing the leftover dinner from four long tables.

“Excuse me,” he called a maid’s attention. “Has the king finished his meal?”

“Yes.”

“Where can I find him?”

“He is taking his private evening drink in his office.”

John hurried off without saying thank you.

“You cannot enter there!” she called out to him.

John stormed into the office. He did not stop to consider that his actions could send him to the dungeons. He was too enraged. His sights zoomed in on his surprised target, who sat in a high, wingback chair drinking a goblet of wine.

“I thought you said there were no spirits here.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“There was a ghost at the school. It made itself known to me. It followed me to Jasira’s house.”

“I can see you are highly upset.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I will overlook this intrusion.” Yudit nodded to the seat next to his, separated from it by a small table. On top of the table lay a tray with a pitcher of wine. “Explain yourself.”

John looked at the chair. He detected someone sitting there, but it was empty. “Why did you lie to me?” He dropped into the seat and gasped. He felt like someone had splashed him with ice-cold water.

“I did not lie to you,” Yudit tersely replied.

John met Yudit’s glower. He hugged himself. Through chattering teeth, he spoke. “You said there were no ghosts—”

“Exactly,” Yudit clipped. “There are no ghosts on Surreal.”

John lost his temper. He jumped from his seat. “Bullshit! There is a ghost! And she followed me to Jasira’s house where she assaulted me!”

The king frowned up at him. “Assaulted you?”

John curved his fingers into fists. “Yes! What else have you lied to me about? Where the hell is Bogdan?”

“Bogdan is visiting his famuhlee.”

“His family?”

“Why do you think I would lie to you? I have no need.”

“Apparently you do.”

“For what reason?”

“You tell me.”

The king regarded John’s fiery brown stare. John could tell he had never seen an enraged feline before.

“Your eyes are shining with a brown light. Why is that?”

John stepped closer to Yudit. “That’s because I’m pissed off!” he shouted. “Now tell me the truth!”

The king placed his goblet on the tray and purposely stood from his seat. He stopped before John, toe to toe with him. “I agree I do not know much about your race, but you know nothing about mine. I spoke the truth when I said there are no ghosts on Surreal.”

John did not back down from the king’s challenging stance. “Well, I came into contact with one.”

“Our definition of ghost is an individual’s life force that remains after the individual dies.”

John stiffly nodded once.

“There are no ghosts on Surreal.”

John stared into the king’s cold eyes. “Then how do you define the thing that attacked me in Jasira’s house?”

“No one enters Jasira’s houz but Jasira…and now, you.”

John repeated those words in his head. “What the hell do you mean?”

Yudit deeply inhaled. He returned to his seat. “Sit down, Seacat. I see your kind has an explosive temper. Tell me what happened in Jasira’s hohm.”

“I told you.”

“How were you assaulted?”

“You don’t need to know the details. Suffice it to say, I was attacked. Now I want answers. Truthful answers.”

“My answers have been truthful.”

“How can you look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve been straight with me?”

“Because I have no need to lie to you. There is no ghost in Jasira’s houz.”

“Now there isn’t. I just kicked her out.”

The king hesitated before responding. “You kicked her out?”

“Hell, yes!” exclaimed John.

“From her own houz!” Yudit’s voice matched John’s in volume. He stood from his seat. “You are a guest in that houz, not the owner! It’s one thing for you to yell at those who carelessly damage her things, but you have no right to remove Jasira from her hohm!”

“Jasira?” John’s fists landed on his hips. “Are you even listening to me? I threw out a ghost. A female ghost.”

“Are you listening to my words, Seacat? There are no ghosts on Surreal. Jasira accepts no visitors into her hohm, except her pairunts. No one lives there except you—and Jasira.” Yudit hurried to the door. He opened it and called for the guards. “When did this happen?”

John stared at him.

“Seacat! When did this take place?”

“A few minutes ago,” John replied, confused by the king’s reaction.

Two guards appeared in the corridor. King Yudit ordered them to find Jasira and bring her to him. They bowed and left.

The king closed the door. “There is much you must learn, Seacat. My race is not like yours. We are not cats. We are not humans.” He glared into John’s glowing, brown eyes. “We are from the mist.”

“The mist?” repeated John. He watched Yudit returned to his seat. “What do you mean, the mist?”

“Sit down. I will explain.”

The thought of being splashed with ice-cold water again was unpleasant, so John hesitated in sitting.

“A powerful race from planet Terrorsha traveled across the universe, enslaving planets. When they arrived here, a great war was fought. Our hohmz were destroyed. Our siteez leveled. Our land burned. Surrealan civilization was no more. Despite all this, the Terrorshans saw we would not submit. Therefore, they decided to kill us. On the day our destruction was to take place, another race appeared. The Medlothians. The Terrorshans had previously tried to conquer them, but failed.”

John’s eyes dimmed.

“The Medlothians sought out the Terrorshans to end their tyranny. When they arrived here, they saw what the Terrorshans were doing to my race. On board the ships were Medlothians from the East. They immediately stepped in with a spell that kept the surviving Surrealans from dissolving and entering the hereafter.”

“I’m truly sorry about your people, but what does this have to do with the ghost?”

“The Surrealans were being dematerialized by a Terrorshan weapon. The Medlothians stopped our enemy and destroyed their horrible weapon. Unfortunately, they were unable to restore the bodies of the survivors. Luckily, their spell enabled the injured Surrealans to remain in this world without their physical forms.”