StarlightComplete Page 16

  “Is Passion the next level? I thought we’d always had passion.”

  “Not like Starlight Passion. That you haven’t tasted. On Chizan, I promise you the Passion, Sharille.”

  She lifted her head, her chin resting on his right breast. “What’s this word, Sharille? You used it often…screamed it out as I recall. It’s felinus, what does it mean?”

  He smiled. “It’s your name, kitten-mine. Your felinus name.”

  “But…”

  “During Desire all names are revealed. Do you like this name?”

  “Yeees, I think. But what does it mean?”

  “Do you have to ask?” He raised his brow. “Can’t you feel it, honey-cat, and know what it means?”

  Sam blushed. “Garden. My name is garden.”

  “And so it’s appropriate. You are my garden.”

  “Insufferable conceit. I’m not your anything.” She paused. “What does Kuno mean? No, don’t tell me. Seeker. What do you seek, cat-boy?”

  He grinned. “A woman of passion. Her garden of pleasure.”

  “A garden that you can bed, huh?”

  “Often. One thousand and one ways, honey-cat.”

  “I forgot to keep count.”

  John laughed, his arms and legs tightening around her. “Well, we can always start again, Sharille.”

  Sammi closed her eyes. Sharille, she liked that name. It grew on her. She laughed to herself, no pun intended.

  When they returned to the bar, the party was in full swing. In darkened corners, other couples were doing things… Sam tried not to look.

  “So you finally deigned to grace us with your presence, Kuno!” Taren leaned against the bar, facing outwards.

  John and Sam sipped a long cold glass of Ten-X beer.

  “Did you miss me?” John asked.

  “In your dreams. As I am MC of the party, I have been waiting for you, so the ritual could start.”

  “Ritual?” Sam asked, facing John. “You never said anything about a ritual.”

  “Yes I did, honey-cat. I distracted you, because I know how you fret so.”

  Sam chewed her lip. She didn’t want to be involved in any public ceremony.

  “You and he are mated, Samantha,” Taren said. “At least the first level, so a witnessed declaration of Desire is traditional. Important. Now that you are both here, more or less thinking clearly, I will begin.”

  Sam glanced up at him, uncertainly. The dark blue tattoos over his arm were feathers and knives sweeping from his shoulder to his wrist. Like John’s single tattoo—beautiful and deadly. Like the man.

  “Thank you,” Taren said. He inclined his head, then turned to the room and called for silence. Few people heard. He leapt up on the bar and let out a yowl that made Sam clamp her hands over her ears.

  That did the trick. The bar descended into stunned silence.

  Grinning with satisfaction, Taren jumped down and faced Sam and John.

  Around them the guests formed a circle and John turned to Sam, drawing her back against his chest, his arms enfolding her to him. He rested his chin on her head.

  “It is witnessed,” Taren said, walking around Sam and John, his wings unfurled, stroking them. “The Desire between them. His name is Kuno and he exists only for her, as she exists only for him. It is Recognized.”

  “It is Recognized,” everyone echoed.

  “Kuno is acknowledged and welcomed. And what of your mate? Gift her name to us.”

  “She is Sharille,” John-Kuno whispered.

  “You accept the name and the gift, kitten-sister?”

  “Yes,” Sam replied, her heart thudding against her ribs.

  “Then acknowledge her and make her welcome! Her name is Sharille and she exists only for Kuno. It is Recognized.” Taren bowed to the audience.

  Sam’s mind reeled with the introductions, the scents, the touches—the meeting of all of Kuno’s friends who had come to bear witness to his rite of passage. Feathers, scales, fur and tentacles stroked her and John.

  John turned Sam in his arms and lifted her hard against his body and kissed her. Then setting her back on her feet, he raised her head, rubbed his cheek against hers, the traditional and intense felinus caress. She responded with her own human and cat kisses.

  Afterwards, each person rubbed their cheek against Sam’s, then John’s.

  Finally it remained that only Taren stood before them.

  His eyes were emotion-dark as he stepped to John and took his friend in his arms. The two men rubbed cheeks. Taren turned to Sam and bowed.

  “By your leave, Sharille.” He held out his hands, palm up.

  Sam placed her hands palm down upon his. Taren grasped her wrists and pulled her to him. “Your name is Sharille and you exist only for Kuno. It is understood. As John is my wing-brother, so you, Samantha-Sharille are my wing-sister.” He kissed her, then rubbed his cheek against her. “You are of my clan. Call and I will answer. Your life is held in my heart. You, Kuno, my saer-tan and you Sharille, my saer-tanis.” He slipped a bracelet from his wrist over hers and stepped back.

  Sam’s eyes stung with tears. What could she say to answer him? “Thank you,” she said and inclined her head, as a felinus, her hands over her heart.

  Smiling, Taren turned and strode away and around them the bar erupted in shouts and laughter.

  The party began in earnest with dancing to music from felinus musicians who sang and played traditional tunes on flute and lyre and harp.

  “I wish Harimal was here,” Sam said wistfully.

  “When we go home, Sammi, then we’ll renew this ceremony. Harimal will be there for it, as Prince and brother.” John trailed his finger over her mouth and kissed her. “You are so special, Sharille. Few outsiders are taken into a wing-clan.”

  “I have an assassin for a brother,” she said trying to make light of the moment. Otherwise she might be overwhelmed and break down.

  “Tears can be for happiness and pleasure, Sam,” John said. “There’s no shame in them.”

  Sam glanced down at her wrist, studying the bracelet John had given her and the one which Taren had gifted her. Etched on the new bracelet Sam saw feathers and knives and one blue crystal at the center of the design.

  “Taren’s house symbol. No one seeing that will mess with you, Sammi. The vendetta of assassins is never over, no matter how much blood is spilled. To the last claw.”

  “And he’s my brother?”

  “Yep, mine, too, and Hari’s. Family.”

  “I’ve never had a family before.”

  “You never mention your parents.”

  “Oh, too busy with their own lives and careers.” She paused.

  “Yes?” John coaxed.

  “We are alike, John. I was fostered, too. I was a mistake, unwanted, and I was given up for adoption. I never knew my birth parents. I was sent to many foster homes. I could never settle with any family and I was…um…difficult. Painting was the only constant thing in my life.” And why when Tony had showered her with love and attention, why she had gone with him…a desperate need that had almost destroyed her. She glanced at John and by his look, realized that she must have broadcast her thoughts… Oh Stars! Oh…

  “Kitten.” He smiled gently. “Love holds a powerful allure, when one is lonely.”

  She pressed her cheek against his. “You understand!”

  “Of course, beloved.” He held her out to study her. “You won’t be lonely again. Or desperate. Ah, well, desperate in another way. Alike, we are so alike, Sammi-Sharille, because I was fostered, too. My parents loved me, but I was difficult, too. Unlike you, however, I was lucky. Taren and his clan welcomed me, treasured me.”

  “Do many felinus get fostered?”

  John smiled, running his finger over her cheek. “No, Shari-mine. Felinus are very devoted to family. But my father and I never got on. Too similar in many ways. I was a distraction and a complication for a King. Remember me telling you about the ring-surfing? It was the last straw. I was p
leased to live with Taren. My own sons, I’ll cherish. And my daughters.” His steady gaze held hers.

  Sam swallowed. She’d never expected a family, a lover, a mate. “Kuno, I’m—”

  “It’s okay, kitten-mine, family is a long way in the future. If you will it.”

  “If I will it?”

  “Yep, with felinus it’s the woman who decides.”

  “What about randy tom-cats prowling and spreading themselves around?”

  John laughed. “There’s prowling and then there’s prowling. If a woman can’t control a rogue male…” He shrugged.

  “Like I control you?”

  “You can try.”

  “Same thing.” Samantha said. John roared with laughter. She reached out and ran a finger over his belt and he tightened his stomach. “If you behave, I won’t have to discipline you.”

  “And if I don’t?” His tawny eyes lit with mischief. “Same thing?”

  “Just by degrees.”

  “Kitten-mine!”

  Six hours later, the party began to wind down, with couples drifting off home.

  Sam and John made their escape, after doing the rounds of the room for more felinus cheek rubbing—paws, tentacles, a wing and other appendages… Sam had lost her fear and welcomed all touches. She belonged to a family now, and with John at her side, the universe was bright with promise.

  Entering their apartment, John palmed the door’s sensor to do not disturb!

  “My feet are killing me.” Sam flung herself on the closest chair, tugged off her boots and dropped them onto the carpet.

  “Well, what do you expect wearing those heels?”

  “Some sympathy from you.”

  John lifted his hands, palms facing her. “You want sympathy, kitten-mine? Then, come here.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m going to the shower and clean off this gunk from my hair and face. I want to be Sam again, not some…well…”

  “Not some hot-to-trot vixen?” John laughed. “You are hot-to-trot and I know you’re a vixen.”

  “And you’re just a smart-mouthed cat-boy,” she called over her shoulder as she stalked to the bathroom, peeling off her clothes as she went.

  “Shari-honey, nothing wrong with a smart mouth,” he retorted, making a lapping sound.

  Sam bit her lip to stop from laughing, determined not to encourage the cat. He was too smug by far!

  She programmed for water with rose scent and stepped under the warm shower, scrubbing at her face and hair to get rid of all her makeup. Multi-colored water swirled down the plug hole.

  John joined her in the cubicle and he lathered her hair and body with rose of attar oil. His fingers slipped into every crevice, groove, hollow.

  “You don’t have to clean in there,” Sam protested as John’s finger dipped inside her.

  Smiling he turned her to face the wall and with his knee between hers, he spread her thighs, hitching her up. His sex slid into her.

  “Sharille,” he sighed. A word with a universe of meanings.

  “Kuno,” she breathed. A word with a universe of meanings.

  Sam spread her hands to brace herself against the wall and John’s fingers crept between her nether lips to find and fondle every pleasure spot he could reach. His erection probed to the left, the right, and plunged deep into her center, igniting every internal point.

  The water stopped and warm, rose-scented air swirled around them, drying them.

  John lifted her, turned her, and with her legs fastened around his waist he carried her from the bathroom to the bed. He lay her down and kneeling on the floor, spread her legs, his gaze feasting on her. He ran a tongue over his lips.

  “I want to taste you honey-cat.”

  She wriggled. “What’s stopping you? Since when do you ask permission?”

  “You might accuse me again of being a naughty little beast or a randy tom cat on the prowl.”

  “Huh! I know you’re a randy tom cat on the prowl.” She raised herself on bent elbows and tossed her head, imitating Hari. Immediately John’s gaze heated. His look was…alarming. “Why are you staring at me like that, John-Kuno?”

  “You tossed your head.”

  “So?”

  “So, kitten-mine, that’s a felinus challenge. A mate to a mate.”

  “Hari does it all the time.”

  “Hari is a man.”

  “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  John snorted. “When a woman tosses her head to her lover, it’s a challenge, to seduce her, to make her purr.”

  “Like this?” Sam purred low in her throat.

  “No, like this.” John’s purr could make the universe stand still. He licked her toes, then her ankles, leaving playful bites in his wake. He traveled up the length of one leg, going down the inner side before repeating the process on her other leg.

  His mouth skirted her mound and at his approach she angled herself to aid his questing, but his mouth always danced away.

  Every centimeter of flesh, he teased, bit, licked and bit some more. Sliding between her thighs he nestled his hands beneath her buttocks lifting her, nudging her curls and nether lips aside with his chin and lips.

  He tongue-lathered her and teased one finger into her.

  “You’re hot and wet for me, honey-cat.”

  “Yeeeesss.”

  “But not enough.”

  “I’m dying. I want you to love me, Kuno.”

  “The word is jura-santl, Shari. Now we are mated. No longer a fuck. And forget feegle, too. I never feegle you.”

  “Why does felinus have to be so complicated?”

  “We’re cats. Cats are inscrutable.”

  John teased another finger into her and found the pleasure spot. It put all thought from her mind, save one.

  She grasped John by the hair and tugged him up over her body.

  “I want you inside me. I want jura-santl, Kuno. Now.”

  “With pleasure.”

  Beep! Beep! BEEP!

  For a moment Sam was disoriented, tangled against John his legs and arms around her.

  “What the…?” John said groggily. “Damn it, that’s Hari’s urgent call sign. Sorry kitten.” He kissed her, pushed himself up and hurried across to the computer console. He tapped in his password. Seconds later, Sam heard him swear. “I’m gonna fry his brains, if I can find them.”

  “Who?”

  “Harimal.”

  Sam sat up in the bed. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing’s happened to him—yet! When he gets home I’m gonna bite him.”

  Sam slid off the bed and joined his side, reading the message aloud: “Desire. Congratulations. Kuno, did I interrupt anything important? So sorry! Harimal. P.S. When I get home I’m going to jehs wan se tah, grrr. What does that last bit mean?” Sam asked looking up at John.

  He flushed. “It’s one of the worst felinus curses.”

  “Yep?”

  “There’s no adequate translation, but roughly it means, when he gets home he’s gonna bite my bum.”

  Sam laughed.

  “It’s not funny, Shari! When he morphs to cat, his fangs are sharp and long. He bites really well. I mean really well!”

  Sam laughed so much she cried. “You’ve bitten me on the ass before and—”

  John folded his arms, fuming. “I was playing with you, Samantha. To jehs wan se tah, grrr…that’s serious cat business.”

  Wiping tears from her eyes, she grinned. “What did you do to him? I assume this has something to do with pay-back?”

  “Oh, yeah. I substituted the dragon-women for two bonded draconis males, and changed his ship to an automated cargo freighter.”

  Sam sighed. Men. Cats! “So, you’ve only got yourself to blame if he bites you on the bum.”

  “Stars, I thought you’d have some empathy for me.”

  “Nope. If you cats want to play, then all’s fair. Don’t come screaming to me.” She saw his look and ran for the bedr
oom. John caught her, flung her down on the bed, panting.

  “Don’t come screaming to me, huh?” he asked, pressing into her.

  “How about, come screaming with me?”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  Frustrated, Harimal thought, didn’t do justice to what he felt.

  If it wasn’t so exasperating, the irony of his predicament would make him laugh.

  His plans had been sabotaged. Well and truly.

  Dragon-men instead of women and in place of the luxury liner in which he had booked a berth, the only transport available in the dock when he had arrived had been a star’s awful automated cargo freighter. Either he took it as transport or wait another day for the next liner. One day with two annoyed and glamored male draconis, who did not understand about delays and felinus humor... The freighter was the lesser of two evils.

  Now, here he was—Harimal, san-Duran, not feegling his brains with dragon-women, but sitting around a table playing Martian poker. And he was losing.

  The fact that the draconis were a mated pair only added to his dilemma. A felinus could adapt to most tastes, but his dragon-guards were off-limits because they had bonded to the exclusion of any other.

  Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to alter the listing of the liner’s departure time on his computer terminal, so he had arrived hours too late, to find two new draconis guards waiting for him. The someone who had done this to him had resources.

  StarlightComplete

  Someone like a Director of Starwatch.

  Feegling bloody Kuno!—who knew that Hari wouldn’t compromise, in thought or deed, a mated couple, even if it meant denying his sexual needs.

  Hari wanted to bed someone—badly!—but the droids on the ship were machines. He never feegled a machine, and the draconis were off limits.

  Kuno had set him up. Hari had to admit that his brother had been clever.

  But two could play at sabotage. Hari smiled. Right about now, Kuno would be getting an email…pay-back time.

  Mind-linked, as only felinus brothers could be, even the distance between the stars was not enough to diminish that bond, he had felt John’s Desire—was happy for him, but his brother needed a lesson taught him, he’d…