Starlight Rapture [Starlight Ecstasy Book 1] Read online

  She stroked his turgid flesh, shining now with their mingled essences. “I love you."

  His tawny eyes misted. “I know. I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?"

  "Because loving me won't be easy. I'm part-felinus, I'm a sensualator. A potent combination."

  "Yes,” she whispered, tracing her nail over his chest, flicking each bronze nipple. “Tell me about that. Part-felinus. It's rare, isn't it, for a human and a shifter to um join."

  He smiled. “Now so coy. You truly amaze me, Samantha! A spitting, teasing she-cat one moment and a demure kitten the next. Such contradictions are destined to drive me wild.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My father was felinus, my mother human. They shared starlight ecstasy, then starlight rapture, then the other levels. They mated. I am the result."

  "Starlight Rapture—I haven't heard of this."

  "Only felinus know it, and their soul-mates. It goes beyond starlight ecstasy."

  "Beyond?” Her mouth went dry. She had hardly survived ecstasy. There was more?

  "Much more,” John said. “There are levels, ecstasy, rapture. Many."

  "And you've experienced them?"

  He shook his head, his golden hair swirling around him, teasing her cheek. “No, the first only."

  "With your clients?” She couldn't help the question, or keep the bitterness from her voice.

  His narrowed gaze was heated—not with passion, but anger. Felinus anger—no human evoked it and was left unscathed. John's nails tensed against her thigh.

  "No, Samantha. I do not share my felinus self with clients. I am a sensualator, human for them. Never the cat."

  "I'm sorry. You're angry. Why?"

  He sighed. “You have to ask? You are such a kitten."

  "There's no need to insult me."

  His smile was almost warm. “I'm angry because you think I would be a cat for a client. Never! I am felinus for you only. I've never wanted to give the felinus gift to another."

  "Not wanted to experience even more of the exquisite pleasure? Every human in the galaxy would kill for a touch of heaven."

  "It can be hell, Sam. Hell."

  "I don't understand."

  "Be pleased you do not."

  "But—"

  His mouth swept away more words. “I have only shared this with you, Samantha. Only you. A felinus shares this with only one woman. I am yours, forever."

  "Until you grow tired of me."

  His gaze grew cold, his body tense. “Grow tired of you?"

  "I am only human. You are so much more. I know it's only a matter of time before you tire of me. I understand, truly! I know...” She tried to turn her head away, but his fingers halted her, cupping her chin.

  "Explain."

  "It's in the past."

  "You asked me for explanations, please give me the same courtesy."

  She slapped his buttock and he jumped.

  "Don't do that, Samantha, unless you want to see it through to its conclusion."

  "Huh?"

  "Pleasure from pain. Some enjoy it. I don't, but if it pleases you, then...” He tossed his head. “Then I will indulge you."

  "I don't want to be hurt.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Ever."

  "I promise you I will not.” He smiled. “You diverted me. Clever. Very clever. Few humans can distract a felinus—even if the cat is of impure blood."

  He glanced down, sadly. Samantha caught his face between her hands. “Impure blood?"

  "In some shifter circles those of mongrel blood are considered outcast. Before the United Planets ruled, there was talk of placing a bounty on shifter half-breeds."

  "Mmm, the starlord wars. I studied the history at school. The starlords were wiped out."

  "Yes, but in certain societies half-breeds are still excluded. Prejudice is not the sole prerogative of humans."

  "Fuck me,” she said.

  "I know it's shocking."

  She laughed. “No, silly. I want you to fuck me."

  "Again?” He looked doubtful. “I was hard on you before."

  She reached down to his erection. “Hard, yes. Ready to go."

  "You are shocking."

  "I try."

  He rolled onto her, slipped into her, holding his weight from her by knees and elbows. He flexed once inside her and was still. “I want to know about this sorrow. I hear it in your voice, I feel it like a shadow in the back of your mind. Until you grow tired of me—this is what you said. Explain this memory.” He aimed to the left, the gentlest of probes.

  "Play fair."

  "I am.” He probed to the right and flexed. “Tell me."

  "If you keep doing that I won't be able to talk."

  "OK. I'll stop—for the moment. Now explain, please."

  "I was married. I told you this when we first met in the chatroom. Andy was a mining contractor on Luna. I met him there during an exhibition of my work. He was everything: rich, successful, handsome and I was swept off my feet. In those days I wanted a rich, powerful man; I was tired of the struggle. I wanted to be cared for; loved. We were married. For a time it was glorious; then came the demands, the restrictions. No more exhibitions, no more painting."

  "He stopped you?” John was rigid with tension, his eyes narrowed. Horror lurked in his gaze.

  "I protested at first. I soon learnt ... not to."

  John's sharp hiss of indrawn breath was the only sound in their alcove. “He hurt you?"

  Samantha swallowed. “Yes.” She closed her eyes a moment, as memories resurfaced. “I ran away the first time and several other times, but he had connections. You can buy anything, John, anyone, if you have enough money."

  "Yes,” he whispered.

  "I became his prisoner. He kept droid-minders in the house, so I was under constant surveillance. When he returned home, I played the dutiful wife. Pain is a harsh teacher. I couldn't endure it, and one day, I tried to kill myself.” She smiled bitterly. “Tried to jump from the third level window."

  "As Tosca in the opera. Now I understand your choice of persona ... Ah, honey-cat!"

  "Tosca succeeded in her suicide, I did not. Andy was called home and in punishment, he broke the fingers of my right hand, my painting hand."

  John carefully reached out to stroke her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “You have pain there sometimes?"

  "Sometimes. There's nothing physically wrong. All in the mind.” She grimaced. “You wanted the truth. Truth is so cruel. It holds one back, it can twist you, send you mad. Or make you celibate."

  "Yes,” John said. “I know. And why you were so reticent to talk to me, to give me your name. Tosca. A beautiful name, a beautiful opera—appropriate for you in all ways, Samantha—at least for the Samantha of the past. Never call yourself Tosca again. Please."

  Their gazes locked. “I promise,” she whispered.

  "Before, you told me your husband died, but never how."

  "He was killed on Luna, in a mining accident. That's the official version. It ... I only ever heard much later that he thought his moon-rover was a space-speeder. He'd sent a message over the sub-frequency. I was told he was drunk, but I think more likely drugged out on his latest hallucinogen. Anyway, he launched the rover into space and it reached altitude and then blipped out of existence. There one moment, gone the next. No body, no wreckage."

  "A moon-rover can't take that sort of treatment. It would implode, Sam. His death would have been quick."

  "When I first received the news, I cried with joy. I'm a cruel, heartless bitch."

  John shook his head. “No, Sammi. No. How can you be expected to grieve for a monster?"

  "The day he died, I left the house. I just took the clothes I stood up in. His estate—I gave it all to Starwatch.” She closed her eyes tight against the tears, but they trickled out between her clenched eyelids. John carefully lapped them up.

  "Hush, darling, don't cry. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I'm sorry."

  He stared down at her. He had no inkling. Her words tore hi
m apart. A cruel, heartless bitch—how it hurt him that she called herself this—when he knew the truth. If she was any less brave or strong, she might have become such a person, but she had survived, remained loving, gentle, considerate. He loved her in that moment with such intensity that he thought he would die of it.

  He swallowed down the tears, the anger, the horror. He knew, of course, that any creature could be cruel, could inflict the greatest pain on another—sometimes because of love. But that was not true love, it was perversion.

  And the recipient of abuse was sometimes crushed so that nothing of the person remained. But within Sam there was strength and ... so much more, if only he had the ability to bring it forth.

  The monster who had done this to her—lucky for him he was dead. If this Andy still lived, John knew he would have hunted the human to the end of the universe—and beyond. And then the monster would know what pain and suffering truly meant, as only a felinus could inflict.

  But the human-monster was dead and Sam, his beautiful Sam, was here beneath him.

  John plotted a new strategy to touch her with all the love a felinus could offer, but in slow measures, over time. One thousand and one nights he had said before; it might be enough time for the first two levels. Might be ... He sighed.

  "Kuno, what I've told you, it makes no difference, does it?"

  John snapped out of his reverie as he heard her words and the pain behind them. “It makes all the world of difference to me, Sammi."

  "Oh."

  He touched her lip with his tongue tip. “Because now I know you trust me enough to tell me this story and I can show you how to put the past where it belongs: in the past."

  "But I want to know about your past. What happened to make your father mate with your mother?” Sam asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  "Now is not the time."

  "You're disgusted by what I've told you. I knew it."

  She went to move away, but he held her pinned to the cushions, his body stretched full length over her.

  "Yes, I'm disgusted, Samantha. At the cruelty, at your pain. I am enthralled by your strength, I am humbled that you would tell me the truth. Lies would have been much easier for you.” He kissed her gently.

  She relaxed slowly against him. “So, then, I told you what you wanted to know, please reciprocate."

  "Love is what happened, Sammi. Love. It is the most powerful force in the cosmos."

  "I rather thought hate was."

  "You've never known felinus love. If a felinus finds his or her soul-mate, no matter what, it's a compulsion, a joy, that cannot be denied. Remember that! Against all convention my father mated with an off-worlder. A human. It was without precedent because he was ... duran. King."

  Shock washed through her. “You're a Prince?"

  "I'm a half-breed, so I cannot be called a prince. Harimal has that dubious honor and all the obligations that go with it."

  "Your brother? But...?"

  "Hari's mother was pure felinus. She was a sher'ean. A Princess. She died not long after Hari was born. It was a mating of duty, not love. Bloodlines to some felinus are all important and her blood was impeccable. After her death, with an heir in safe-keeping, my father traveled off world. In this respect we are alike: we both find it difficult to be tied to one world. My father met my mother on Sirius. She was the Terran Ambassador. Once met—that was that.” John flicked the hair out of his eyes. “Six years ago, my mother was killed in a space accident. I think she was murdered. I tried, unsuccessfully, to discover the truth. My father never recovered from the shock of losing her."

  "He didn't have that reaction when his first wife died."

  "Not to the same degree. They hadn't shared the levels. My father saved himself for his true soul-mate."

  "It would have been cruel and lonely for Hari's mother, to be so denied."

  John smiled. “From all accounts she took her lovers and her pleasure as she chose and her greatest pleasure was that she was Queen. Power and position are, for some, even more important than love. I'm sure you understand that."

  "Oh yes.” Andy had confused control for love. Sam pushed back a golden lock from his forehead. “Your father is King?"

  "No longer. He abdicated in favor of Hari's uncle. My father was unable to rule. His soul was ripped from him; his heart beats, but he died with my mother. That is the fate of felinus when they lose their mate. Mostly they die and why we rarely mate outside felinus."

  "And your half-brother is a Prince? The heir apparent?"

  "Yes."

  "But why did you become a sensualator and a pearl farmer? Broome of all places."

  "I know you've never been to Broome from our internet chats, so I'll forgive you your ignorance. Once you see Broome, then you'd understand. You must go there with me. The waters are crystal clear and the dolphins sing to me. Their song is the purest in the galaxy. Will you visit one day?"

  "I'd like that.” She paused. “And you're a sensualator because of your felinus blood, because it can never be quenched? And so you bring pleasure and joy, and receive it in turn."

  "No,” he replied. “My pleasure is all in the giving."

  "I don't understand. I have so many questions."

  "Save them for later."

  "I want to understand everything."

  "You will.” He bent down to her neck and licked, biting her earlobe, swirling his tongue inside.

  "John...?"

  "Mmmm?"

  "Let me soothe you."

  "Later."

  John eased down onto the cushions next to Sam, lightly teasing a finger over her stomach, She parted her legs thinking she knew his destination, but he ignored the apex of her thighs.

  "Too obvious, honey-cat,” he said. “You ought to know by now that the effemera is but one center of pleasure for a woman."

  "Effemera? Is that the shifter word for ... for...?"

  "Yes. I prefer to use felin-speak because it has meanings within meanings. For outsiders it cannot be understood, these layers and complexities, but for a felinus and their lover—a world of connotations."

  His hand swept along her body. Occasionally he paused, to press a finger or a nail into her flesh, or to tease lightly with his fingertips. He bent over her, his hair sweeping across her, like a feather. That was the worst and the best of moments, this lightest touch that was almost a non-touch...

  Watching him, alert to his every nuance, Sam saw that when she gasped at a place he caressed, he smiled.

  "This is deliberate and unmerciful, Kuno."

  He lifted his head and raised a brow. “Of course. Look at me Sammi."

  "I am looking."

  "Look at me, Samantha. Please."

  Swallowing, she did as he asked and saw his nostrils flare, the part of his mouth, the depth of a breath. Another. She matched him breath for breath.

  She smelt his sex: the felinus scent and the human.

  Sam rested heavily against the cushions, breathing slowly, deeply. John's exhalations matched her own.

  Then the softest of pressures just above the inner ankle of her right foot and she lifted off the cushions. Electricity sparked through her veins, reaching inside her cleft; effemera—she must remember the felinus terminology; must learn more words ... Ah! John touched the ankle-spot again, a different pressure and angle. She saw pleasure-stars.

  Minutes later, when her breathing and her heart rate had returned to near-normal, she struggled up weakly from the cushions and rested on her elbows, watching John. He knelt between her splayed legs, smiling—a man's knowing smile, but a deeper awareness in his eyes.

  "What did you do?’ Sam whispered.

  "I touched your ankle.” He went to press his finger into her again and she shifted her leg.

  "I want an answer. If you do that to me, I can't think straight."

  "That's the idea."

  "John, are there are other places like this, where you press and I have an orgasm? Is it the same for you?"

  "Yes."r />
  "Will you show me, so I can do it for you, too?"

  "I might. This sharing of knowledge, Sam, it's not done lightly. This is a felinus secret. If used incorrectly, such can kill."

  "Because death and orgasm are so closely linked, that they are each a taste of the other."

  John regarded her in shocked disbelief. “That's a felinus axiom. Where did you hear it?"

  "It just came to me, John, but it's true, isn't it? The old French called the orgasm, la petite mort: the little death. And with you, it is. When I awaken from the climax, I feel re-born."

  "You amaze me, Sam.” He teased her ankle again.

  "Will you show me more?"

  "Each day a new point."

  "Let me do this to you. Lie down, kitty-cat."

  "I am not a kitty-cat."

  "You're gonna be."

  Sam knelt between his legs and lightly touched the place above the ankle. And waited. Nothing. She frowned, trying again.

  "Samantha—ying, yang. Male, female. Opposites."

  She thought for a moment, then moved her finger to the outer ankle of his right foot and pressed.

  With a cry, John lifted.

  Encouraged, Sam pressed harder, twirling her finger around his ankle. She gripped his foot with her other hand, her fingers splayed. She went to press again.

  "No!” John said. “You'll kill me."

  "The little death, John-Kuno. Be brave!"

  "No, honey-cat, you don't understand. The ankle point is also a death meridian."

  "What?” She snatched her hands away.

  John sat upright and placed a finger on his ankle, another finger hovering above his skin a few centimeters away. “If I were to press both these places at the same time, it would set off a reaction and every nerve in my body would be fried. I'd be dead within minutes."

  "Why was this death-technique developed by the felinus?"

  "Our greatest gift to another is the pleasure, and we have been held captive by creatures who want that gratification. It is our protection: we can kill with a touch. Kill another, or kill ourselves—captivity for a felinus is a death sentence."

  "You like to roam free?"

  "Always.” John shrugged. “During the wars, some felinus were assassins; we are not killers by choice, Sam, but we will if our home or kin are threatened. We will destroy without compunction any threat to our mate—no matter who or what. We're lovers, not fighters, Sam, but when we have to kill we are efficient and absolutely ruthless. Trust me in that!"