Authors: Dara Joy
She wasn’t sure he could make it to the next Tunnel point. From what she knew of dual sun exposure, he would become very ill in a very short period of time. “Gian,” she whispered, “what if—”
“Get me to the pool,
taja.”
His normally beautiful voice was raspy.
Helping him to his feet, she guided him along the rock passage. Soon the corridor widened and a large cavern opened up before them. A small pool lay in the center, its water clear.
“You were right, there is a pool here.”
“Good. Unlace my
tracas.”
Unlace his tracas?
She looked at him warily. “Why?”
“Because I need to remove them before I enter the water,” he explained patiently.
Gingerly, she plucked at the lacings, careful not to brush his burned skin. As a consequence, it took her a very long time to undo them.
When she got to the middle section, she bit her lip as she contemplated the thick bulge in the leather breeches. How could she do this without touching him? She didn’t want him to think she was—
“Creamcat, what is taking you so long?”
Her head snapped up. “Um, nothing. Almost done.” She grabbed the bottom end of the lacing and yanked hard. The rawhide flew through the grommets and zipped out; almost flying across the floor.
“By
Aiyah!”
he roared.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Think nothing of it!” he snarled. “I needed a rope burn on my
kani!
To match the sunburn on my back!”
“I said I was sorry.” She really felt terrible about what had
happened. So she asked the question women universally ask in these situations. “Does it hurt?”
The question universally annoyed males. They never could understand why women asked it. They certainly did not want to answer it and admit to anything. So they usually responded the way Gian did, which was a totally unbelievable “No.”
Irritated, he threw his
tracas
to the ground and stormed into the pool.
“At least it gave you some energy,” she called after him, helpfully.
Very much the cat, he hissed in response. Then he groaned as his abused body sank into the cool water.
“Look, Gian, someone left some supplies here!”
“What is it?” He cocked his head, listening to her movements. A bag rustled as she excitedly pulled out the contents. He heard her small sigh.
“Not a lot…there’s a gourd of
systale…
a few loaves of dried
pani…
some bowls…a fire-starter stick! And some
creote
rocks to ignite for the fire…and…a small vial of cleansing oil.”
“Can you bring me some of the
pani?”
“Of course.”
Pani
was a dry, flat loaf of baked grain. Many travelers carried it as it preserved well. It tasted awful but was nutritious.
She knelt by the pool’s edge and, breaking off a piece of the
pani,
held it to his lips. He swallowed a few bites and drank the water she handed him, but it was obvious he was in a lot of pain.
“I am sorry about the rope burn on your…I am sorry, Gian.” She gently smoothed back his bronzed hair from his forehead.
He caught her hand and squeezed it lightly. “It is all right.” A chill shook him.
“You should rest, perhaps you will feel better.” They both knew that was unlikely.
“I am going to attempt to transform.”
“What if you cannot?”
He paused. “If I wait too much longer, I might become delirious from fever, Jenise, in which case I will not be able to focus on the transformation. It is best to attempt it now.”
It was what he did not say that worried her. If he waited too long it might be too late. There was no telling how ill he would become. Her eyes moistened. He had done this to protect her. She must do the same for him.
“You must do as you think right, Gian.”
Gian wished he could see her at this moment. He would have liked to remember how the creamcat looked when she said she trusted him. For whether she knew it or not, that was what she had just admitted. “Jenise—”
She took his hand. “But you must eat some more
pani
first to gather your strength as best you—”
“Jenise.”
“Yes?” Even though she tried, she could not hide the shaky timbre of her voice.
“When I transform, I will need to remain in my other form for a while—until my energy level rises. It should not be too long—as long as I can make the initial…it should not be too long.”
She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her.
He surprised her by returning the nod. Apparently he could sense her movement.
“If you see a flash of light and nothing more, do not be frightened,
taja.
It simply means I am in my third form. If that happens you must continue on to the Tunnel point. I will still be with you, although you will not see me. Will you promise me you will do something for me then, Creamcat?”
“Of course, Gian.” After what he had done for her, she would never refuse him.
“You must attempt to get to Aviara. It is very important. Seek out a wizard there named Yaniff. He will see my…he will know who you are. You must tell him about the drug they used on me, Jenise. For my people.”
“Yes, yes I will.”
“Tell him, ‘they know of the other.’”
“They know of the other?”
She was perplexed. What did this mean?
“Yes. He will know what to do.”
“Very well then, Gian. I will do as you ask.”
“Trust Yaniff, Jenise. He will help you.”
“Help me…help me do what?”
Gian hesitated. “Just promise me you will go to him.”
“I promise.”
“Good,” he murmured. “Now,
taja,
if you would help me out of here…” He offered her his hand.
She guided him out of the water even though she suspected he was guiding himself and simply wanted to feel her touch.
He stood before her. Virile as always. His hand reached out and stroked her hair. “It seems as though I have done this before,” he commented wryly.
“You have.” She smiled poignantly. “The time when you jumped out the window.”
“Ah, yes. Well, let us not make it a habit after this. The task seems to be getting more difficult.” He tried to joke, but she could tell he was concerned.
“No, let this be the last time, Gian.”
Blindly, he lifted her chin with his finger. “Remember, if I seem to disperse, I am still with you. I will always be with you.”
“Of course.” A tear splashed on his hand and he knew
then that she didn’t believe him. There was no third form; he had been trying to make it easier for her should something go wrong.
“Jenise,” he whispered. He inhaled her scent before brushing his swollen lips against hers.
A cry of despair came out of her and she tried to bring him closer to her. What if he could not metamorphose into his other self?
Gian broke away from her abruptly, knowing that if he did not, he would not be able to do what he must. For both of them.
Guardian of the Mist did not hesitate even one instant.
The glowing began and he dissolved right before her eyes. Jenise reached out to the light but it was gone before she could touch it. He was gone. A sob of anguish left her throat. Gian was gone!
Something silky curled around her ankle.
Jenise jumped. Looking down, she saw a cat’s tail curled affectionately around her leg. The large black and bronze and gold cat it belonged to was fast asleep at her feet. She smiled through her tears.
His energy had been utterly depleted, but, once again, the man had done it.
Jenise sank to the floor beside the regal looking cat and cried into his soft, thick fur.
Jenise eyed the dozing cat from her vantage point in the center of the pool.
He was still fast asleep, his massive head resting on his powerful front paws. Even in sleep, he appeared master of his universe. Fierce and dominant. Not one to tangle with. This was Gian, she acknowledged. The traits she saw in one were in the other.
Gathering the vial of cleansing oil, she lathered her long hair, taking her time to wash. The pool was comforting and it felt good simply to relax in its cool depths.
Leaning back in the water, she floated across the gently rippling surface, her hair wafting around her, her eyes closed.
Was the cat watching her? She opened her eyes, glancing his way.
No, the green/gold eyes were closed, his head still resting on his paws. She relaxed, dunking her head under the water to clear the last of the bubbles. She came up sputtering and dripping wet.
Walking out of the pool to the
creote
fire she had lit, she knelt by its edge. Its warmth would help dry her off.
Behind her, the resting cat observed her out of slits of glittering green and gold.
Sitting on her haunches by the warmth of the fire, Jenise closed her eyes and began to doze lightly.
Strong hands threaded through her hair, arranging the waist-length tendrils over her shoulders, bringing them forward to cover her breasts.
“The fire will dry it better this way.” The deep voice vibrated against her skin as he nuzzled his chin against her shoulder.
Jenise opened her eyes. Gian had already moved off to the other side of the fire. Picking up another
creote
rock, he tossed it into the fire. Immediately the blaze intensified as flames greedily consumed the stone.
He was whole again and in his human form, she noted.
No red streaking burns marred his smooth, golden-tan skin. His face was as it had been before: devastatingly handsome.
He reached over to the small bag of supplies for a gourd of
systale
and a piece of
pani.
Covertly, she observed his lithe movements, noting once again the grace with which he moved. She had heard this was a Familiar trait; that they all moved with this sinuous agility. It was captivating to watch.
Naturally, her thoughts went back to what he had done to her the previous evening.
It was a mystery, but he had seemed to retain all his power and command while still losing himself in the sensuality of the experience. He had thrummed inside her, lifting her to new sensations. Sensations that had been far too much for her to deal with.
There was no question that he had taken
her.
Surreptitiously her glance fell to his capable hands. Those hands had slid down her body, coaxing her, guiding her with every expert caress.
Her focus moved on to his powerful thighs. Muscular, well-shaped, masculine. She remembered the feel of those strong legs sliding against her as he moved.
Oh, how he moved!
The tips of her ears turned pink as she recalled the intimate vibration of him. A trickle of desire fluttered through her.
She wanted him.
Somehow, the Familiar had created this need in her, this craving for that which she had never known before.
She sneaked another peek at him as he slowly chewed the
pani.
Even the simplest act of chewing seemed to be fraught with sensuality. His strong jaw moved slowly; he swallowed the baked grain in a leisurely manner before he sipped some water from the lip of the gourd.
She trembled. She was hungry—for
him.
She wanted his passion yet she was afraid to experience everything she had last eve. The enhancement…
Jenise was frightened of how it overwhelmed her; of the surrender he demanded from her.
She glanced over at the Familiar again. He continued
to slowly sip at the water. She wondered if he had any idea what she was thinking.
From beneath lowered lids, he met her look with a smoldering gleam.
He
knew.
Leaning back against the rock wall, he casually held his hand out to her.
As if in a trance, Jenise rose, going towards him. She took the proffered hand.
“Not too much pleasure this time, Gian Ren,” she instructed him.
“No, not too much,
taja,”
he whispered throatily.
“Just enough.”
Traed exited the Tunnel in the royal village on Ganakari.
His cool jade eyes surveyed the scene before him.
Across the way two off-world aliens were arguing with a native about an item for trade; to one side of them a beggar was being thrown from a tavern; and in the foreground a thief was making off with a bolt of fabric.
It was like countless other outlying worlds he had been on.
Barely civilized.
At first glance there seemed nothing out of the ordinary about it. So why had
taj
Gian disappeared here?
Moving off to a relatively quiet corner, he ducked behind a market stall. One of his gifts was the ability to “see.” It was an expertise that occured in some but not all high-level mystics. This talent would show him the places where Gian Ren had been. If Gian was here, he should be able to “see” him; if not, he would follow the trail of pictures, “seeing” the places he had been.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the image of Gian Ren.
His smooth brow furrowed as the image of a dungeon cell materialized in his mind’s eye. Chains hung from the wall. The manacles at their ends were empty. Had Gian been kept prisoner here?
The images continued:
A room with a single window…
A stream…
A vine-covered valley…
A small outlying village by…a Tunnel.
Perhaps Gian had escaped and gone through the Tunnel? Traed tried to focus his energy on the image of the Familiar. The picture in his mind wavered suddenly and he saw an ancient sylvan forest. An impression of a small thatched cottage came into view.
Traed delved into the vision, curious as to what it meant. Was the Familiar there?
Now his inner eye focused on the interior of the hut. The furnishings were sparse and old. A bed was by the fireplace. Someone was lying on the bed, a huddled mass writhing in pain.
Traed attempted a closer vision.
Gian?
The strange vision dissolved.
It was not Gian.
Traed did not understand what he had seen, so he passed it off as unimportant. He was here to find Gian Ren and must focus on his task. Obviously the vision had not been accurate.
Had he been mystically trained, he would have known that all visions of the “sight” are significant, if not accurate. A trained Charl would have gone to the hut to investigate.
Once again, fate stepped in and steered the Aviarian away from such a path. He overheard two merchants gossiping about the escape of a prisoner several days before. He listened carefully.
“Took our lady! Stole our princess!”
“They say he forced himself upon her, then made her accompany him.”
“What do you expect from one of that kind?” The man spat on the ground. “Aliens!”
Knowing Gian, Traed could only surmise that said princess had begged him to take her along—although he had a difficult time imagining
taj
Gian agreeing to such a thing.
Unless it suited him.
Well, he knew now that Gian had been held prisoner here and that he had already escaped. Discovering the reasons behind his capture would have to wait.
His priority was finding Guardian of the Mist.
From all accounts, he was on the run; undoubtedly he was trying to make his way back to M’yan, his homeworld.
Traed had seen the Tunnel the Familiar had used to flee, but he could not tell which of the other two Tunnel points on this world it was. He approached the two men he had overheard.
“You there!” he said in his usual blunt way. Traed was not one to soften his manner.
The two Ganakari turned, staring at him in astonishment.
It was not often such a rich-looking stranger came to their world. They instantly assessed the clothes he wore. They were of the finest Aviaran weave, enchanted by the Weaver’s Guild of Aviara from the look of their perfect appearance. Aviarans rarely visited non-Alliance rim worlds.
One of the men stepped forward, bowing obsequiously. “May I be of service to you?” He eyed Traed’s dark maroon cloak, wondering if he could bargain the man out of it.
Traed came right to the point. “What Tunnel point did the prisoner use to escape?”
The man’s cheeks flushed. “And why would you be wanting to know that? Are you ally or foe to the Ganakari people?”
“Neither. My business is not your concern. Do you or do you not have this knowledge?”
“I know for a price.”
Traed sighed. He detested this kind of work. “What is your price?”
The man eyed Traed’s black boots, wondering if he could ask for those as well. Taking in the stranger’s steely
green gaze, he decided not to press his fortune. “The cloak you wear.”
The expression on Traed’s face might have been called
deadly
amusement. Anyone who knew Traed knew that this expression meant trouble brewing.
When the handsome Aviaran did not verbally respond, the merchant foolishly added, “And your boots.”
A muscle ticked in the firm Aviaran jaw. “I will give you one clarified stone.”
The merchant scoffed. “One stone!”
“And…”
The merchant’s ears picked up. “And what?”
“This.”
The light saber appeared at his throat so quickly that the merchant did not even see it clear the Aviaran’s waistband. He swallowed nervously. Once released from the small black box that served as its hilt, the light blade, or light saber as it is sometimes called, was a lethal weapon.
“Do you accept my terms?” the jade-eyed man murmured in a chillingly low tone.
“Y-yes, I accept!”
“Wise decision.” He retracted the blade, returning it to his waist. “Speak.”
“He took the second Tunnel point—it is five days’ journey on foot from here; although the Familiar made it in two.”
“He took a shorter route?”
“There is no shorter route; the deadly
valdt
lies between the valleys and cannot be crossed.” The merchant stroked his chin. “It is a mystery to us how he did it.”
It was no mystery to Traed; Gian Ren was extremely resourceful. If there was a way, Guardian of the Mist would find it. His acumen was well-known in the Alliance. “I need to get there as quickly as possible. How would I go about doing that?”
The other man came forward. “A
safir
beast can shorten the time of your journey somewhat.”
Traed raised an eyebrow. “And where would I get such a beast?”
The man bounced forward on the pads of his feet. “I happen to have one for hire, if it suits you.”
“How much?”
“Five clarified stones.”
Traed tossed him three. The merchant beamed. “Come with me! Perhaps you are hungry? I have many fine supplies fit for a long journey such as yours.”
Traed shook his head as he followed the man. It never changed. He only hoped his journey to Gian would be completed quickly.
There was no telling what
tortures
the Familiar was suffering at the moment.
Gian tugged Jenise down next to him so they faced each other, as they knelt on the floor of the cave.
His muscular arm encircled her waist, bringing their upper bodies together. His hand threaded through her long hair, sinking into the mass, entangling it about his fingers.
“I was afraid for you,” she admitted shakily, still not over the worry she had felt when she realized he might not be able to make the transformation.
His green/gold eyes captured hers. He stared intently at her. “I know.”
A small sound came from her lips, a mixture of desire and wariness. Her experiences with men—all men—had taught her to be cautious.
“What else are you afraid of, Creamcat?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
He examined her guarded features. “Why do you fear pleasure?”
“I—I do not!” She struggled to break his embrace.
He held her fast. “Do you think it weakens you? Or is it something else?” His fingers splayed against her scalp, forcing her to look at him. To answer him.
“If you take pleasure, then you belong to that which gives it to you. When you belong to something, then you are owned.” She lifted her chin, almost daring him to refute her.
Gian easily accepted her challenge. “No,
taja,
if you give pleasure and receive pleasure, then you share the pleasure, and when you come together, the union sets you free.”
“You say that because you are a Familiar and Familiars seek only pleasure.”
His thumb played with her bottom lip. “Pleasure is our nature, not our goal.”
The lovely aqua eyes reflected turmoil. He was reaching her, he knew.
But it would be a slow process.
She said she was afraid for him, which was true, but she was also afraid
of
him. Of the sensual power he had over her.
She had no idea of the levels of complexity going on here, he acknowledged. It was a new experience for any Familiar, he supposed; for a Familiar woman would be leading the pattern by now.
It mattered not.
He was more than happy to lead both the tone and pace himself.
Guardian of the Mist had discovered he had a partiality for difficult creamcats.
He was also discovering a lot of other things about himself that he had not known before. For one, he was becoming dependent upon her touch. For a man who was
a most independent Familiar, it was a new experience indeed.
In any event, he did not ponder the outcome. Such was not his nature. Jenise would come to him gradually but completely. His lips brushed hers; the tip of his tongue giving the satiny surface a soft
lick.
Lifting his mouth from hers, he stopped a hairsbreadth from the lips he had just moistened to let her feel his breath on her. The hot, light puffs of air blew over her in a tantalizing spice-dream.
She closed her eyes as his scent sensitized her for him.
Then he pressed his mouth to hers. A firm placement which stated who he was and what he was about to do. Gian was a thorough lover whose sexual knowledge was part instinct, part experience, and part Gian Ren. The uniqueness of the Familiar people transcended to the individual; each Familiar brought his own individuality to the experience he delivered. It was another factor that made them prized on so many worlds.
Unaware of the meaning behind his motions, Jenise returned his kiss, craving the feel of him, the taste of him. Smoky
krinang
spice covered her as he delved inside with a wicked thrust of his tongue. His movements, though simple, were surely art just the same.
His fingers splayed on the back of her scalp as he took her mouth. A flood of wanting assailed her along with the evocative taste and touch of the Familiar male.
As his fingers massaged her scalp, his mouth skimmed over her jawline to the edge of her ear. Fiery exhalation feathered the folds. She trembled anew. The hot mouth solidly pressed on the skin of her neck, drawing on the susceptible spot just under her ear.
The peaks of her breasts hardened.
Gian pulled her up tighter to him. He rubbed the firm,
pointed tips along the skin of his chest. The sliding abrasion made her shiver.
In response his manhood skimmed her nether curls in a light passing.
Jenise moaned from the exquisite tracing. Unbidden, her hands gripped his wide shoulders, the tips of her fingers making small indentations.
The palm of his hand pressed against a protruding nipple, rotating it around the center. His skilled teasing action heightened the combined feeling of satin lips drawing on her throat and male teeth biting softly.
“Do you know me, Jenise?” he whispered against her moistened skin.
Who could know a cat?
Quivering from his expert love-touches, she moaned, “I know you somewhat, Gian.”
She was surprised at how true that was—she did know much of him. The life-threatening events they had shared together had formed a certain bond between them. She knew his strength, his steadfastness, his dependability, his pride, his playfulness, and his tendency to take control. But in other ways, the man was a complex puzzle.
She lifted his stunning face between her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Do you know me, Gian?”
His lids lowered as his gaze fixed on her lips.
The lips he had licked.
“What do you think?”
She kissed him fast, taking him by surprise.
There was a new depth to the exchange. Gian held her close, a wild passion building inside him.
They were both becoming hot and damp and they both moaned aloud.
His hands cupped the backs of her thighs, bringing her flush against his desire. Boldly, he moved her onto him while he kneaded her firm buttocks.
Jenise couldn’t catch her breath.
White teeth captured the jutting tip of her breast. He suckled vigorously as he observed her watching him; his full regard focused upon her.
It was too much.
Her eyes fluttered shut; a sound of raw need was ripped from her.
The intense utterance of desire reverberated through Gian. In a graceful action, he lowered her to the stone floor of the cavern, immediately coming atop her.
“Let me know if this is too hard for you,” he drawled huskily.
Her aqua eyes popped open.
“What?”
He realized what he had just said. A grin spread across his perfect features. “I meant the stone”—his grin got wider—“floor.”
Jenise snorted. He had a teasing sense of humor and it showed at the oddest times. Her arm went around his strong neck, tugging him down to her.
“You will be the first to know if it is too hard,” she shot back.
He chuckled against her lips.
And
stroked
into her.
The way he had intended from the very first. A long, penetrating thrust.
She was still narrow from the newness of the experience. Her inner muscles clamped tightly on him.
With fluid agility, he immediately changed her angle by bringing her legs down from around his hips, positioning them straight under him. He gripped her thighs close together as he remained snug within her.
“Lie like this,
taja.”
He spoke soothingly into her ear. “It will lessen the discomfort of the deep stroking.”
Jenise nodded against his cheek.