Cat Scratched! (4 page)

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Authors: Dara Joy

Tags: #Romance

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Her brow furrowed. "What does your other form look like?"

"I am black with gold-tipped fur."

"Oh." She paused as she tried to imagine the unique combination with his eye colors.
"
Ahhh, nice."

 

"What of you?"

She looked down. "I do not know."

"No one has told you–or you do not remember?" he asked sharply. He already suspected that she did not metamorphose into her other form.

"A little of both, I suppose. I was such a young child. . ."

"You know, Snow, you may have family still on M'yan." Her entire body stiffened defensively. "I do not. It was only my parents. I apologize if I have given you the wrong impression, but I have no wish to seek lost' family'."

"You are surely part of a clan; why would you not seek out your people?" He watched her reaction carefully.

"I have no desire to do such a thing. I am quite happy here. This is my home. Why would I ever leave it?" Such an attitude was completely alien to Salair who lived to explore. It was a mystery to him that she could actually be content to close every door to the outside. There was an entire universe out there for her! A full life. She did not have to deny herself and her culture to be content.

It would be different if she had chosen this life initially–but she had not. She was content, not because she felt at peace with her life but because she
feared
anything changing her life for the worse. She seemed terrified of possible loss. Understandable, he supposed, considering that something terrible had happened to her at such a young age. Nonetheless, he could not let this stand. He intended to
prod
her along first; then
pull
if necessary.

And not just for their own desires to be fulfilled. Their king had ordered them home. He reminded her of it.

"Again, you are aware that our king has ordered his subjects home?"

"Yes, as you have said, but this decree has naught to do with me. I am not one of Gian Ren's subjects." Salair shook his head. It appeared that Snow was blessed with the stubborn / contrary obtuseness that many female Familiars shared. They often refused
just to refuse
. The trait could be charming and irritating at the same time.

It took a Familiar male, strong in his person, equally stubborn, and fixed upon his goal to deal with such a female. It was a wonder to Salair that one such as Krue, a Charl knight, had been able to actually mate with a Familiar woman named Suleila.

Then again, Krue was a legendary knight, and thus seemed to be more than up to the task. For his recompense, Suleila had gifted him with their halfling son Rejar, who, in turn, gave
all
the Charl naught but sleepless nights for years.

Salair grinned.

Thankfully that would not be happening to him. As a Familiar male, he would decide about doing the gifting. And if his children were anything like him, they would surely be adventurers.

His thoughts brought him back to the present conundrum, and his step faltered.
He had a clueless mate.
Not a good sign for the reality of these future children.

Shaking off the troubling thought, he tried to reach her yet again. The ever-present danger of pursuit, the difficulties facing them on the coming journey, and his upcoming Incarnation weighed heavily on him.

He could wait no longer.

"
Know you not who I am to you
?' he repeated as he somewhat cornered her by a tree.

"That is the second time you have asked me that this eve." Somewhat aggrieved, she placed a hand against his chest when she almost tripped over him.

As he steadied her his nails ran lightly down her arm, leaving pleasing tingles in their wake.

Snow shivered. She smiled up at him. "What was that?"

"Just a tiny scratch,
Softcat
," he purred with a lilting smile in his voice. Some Familiars were experts in the art of erotic touch. He looked down at her with veiled eyes. "They say once you have been
love-scratched
by a Familiar, you will long for his touch forever."

She scoffed. "Legends are romantic, but hardly believable."

"Perhaps, very soon, you can test that out," he whispered in a
purrrr
next to her lips.

***

Snow’s mouth dropped open at his innuendo. "You—you cannot be serious?"

"Come swim with me in the pond."

"I–" His brisk scent suddenly covered her and she could no longer finish whatever she had been about to say. She should just refuse his invitation, but she would be lying if she did not admit at least to herself that she had wondered in the past what it might be like to be kissed by a Familiar man. The stories of her people–of their sensual natures–were always intriguing to her. She, for one, had never felt particularly motivated by such things. Perhaps she was a faulty version of a Familiar? Perhaps this was her chance to find out?

Her hesitation was his answer. He took her hand and quickly led her through the forest.

Moonlight brightened his path through the dense woods to the secluded pond where the night before he had floated his thoughts and slept on the gentle ripples of fate. The air
smelled of night. Damp, rich, and at rest. Snow inhaled an image of the forest through its scents. Sweet, night-blooming flowers, the slightly sharp tangy fragrance that the crushed grass released beneath their feet, the night air humid from the nearby pond–each sense swirled over her like ribbons on the wind.

Salair bent down at the water's edge to snap off one of the pod's at the tip of a swaying reed. He crushed the seed, and the milky liquid slid down his palm and between his fingers. Its alluring, heady scent filled the air, but Snow thought it was no match for the Familiar's own savory scent. She had always believed that stories of the intoxicating scent of the male Familiar were just that–stories.

Now she knew better. By Aiyah, his scent it was
irresistible
!

Snow sniffed the air delicately. Seemingly at the crushed pod.

They both knew differently, though.

"So, you have discovered our
lallax
plant. It is quite alluring, is it not?"

"It is," he drawled. "Do you have any practical use for it?"

"Yes. We use it in cooking. The flavor adds a unique, almost addictive taste to our sauces that is much sought after by those who favor such culinary things."

"Perhaps it has more interesting qualities. . ." Her brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"We shall see," he answered enigmatically. Snow was not sure she was comfortable hearing such a cryptic tone coming from a Familiar. She was sure it presaged getting a good
' scratching'
. She suddenly remembered her mother saying: '
Always beware of any male who is also a cat. For no matter his outward demeanor, he will always act true to his nature. Even more so at night.
'

According to her mother females were always sweet and perfect. (This always caused her father to growl and laugh simultaneously.) Salair's true nature was feline–and even a female Familiar would do best to never forget it in his presence.

Such men might purr, but 'capturing' was never far from their minds.

As if to give credence to her thoughts, she heard the distinct rustling of garments being removed. She inhaled, then exhaled. "Why do you remove your raiment, Salair Ner?"

"I remove my clothing because you will want to touch me, Snow."

Said so reasonably! "And why would I want to do that?"

"Well, I am about to give you untold pleasure. For such an experience–you will surely crave touch." Before she could even think of a response to that, his hands gently skimmed her shoulders, undoing the clasps of her robe. Her garment obediently rustled to the ground for him. The only sound in the still night was the soft intake of her breath.

"You are very beautiful." The Familiar's throaty voice sounded husky to her ears. As if his words themselves were
purrs
. No wonder they were considered experts at seduction!

She was not surprised by this man’s actions; he was only being true to his nature. It would be more of an oddity if he did not attempt such a seduction. So. . .

What could it hurt to explore a little with him? Such an opportunity would likely not come again for her. Taking her hand again, he led her into the cool water. He seemed to sense her curiosity and her hesitancy.

"You are shy to. . .
swim
with me?" He carefully brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. The graceful touch was expert.

"You are the first Familiar I have met on this planet. I am more curious than anything else, Salair. In fact, it is something I suddenly have an outrageous curiosity for; although I am not sure I can explain it. Mayhap, you are my only opportunity to
swim
at night."

"Ah, so you would use the hand of your own kind to kill your beast?" he paraphrased a well-known Familiar saying. She laughed, remembering the old motto. It was a happy note that echoed through the woods, making him smile.

He glanced at her from beneath veiled eyes. “There is another saying. . .”

“And what is that?” She grinned.

“The hand that slays your beast
owns
your beast. . .”

She chuckled. “I hardly think I am in any danger from that.”

"It is because you are at ease with me." She grinned. "Perhaps I am, and–" She stopped abruptly.

"And?" he prodded.

"It is well know that Familiar men adore women to the point of distraction. I hardly think you are any danger to me or my beast. Whatever that is."

"There are many types of danger," he intoned in a voice that sent shivers up her spine.

"For others. Not for me."

"Why do you think that?" he drawled as he methodically backed her into a more secluded corner of the pond.

"I have nothing to lose," she whispered.

"We all have something to lose,
Softcat
."

Ready to prove his point, his mating scent thickened the air. It
drenched
her, elevating her desire to couple with him. A male Familiar’s discrete mating scent was a powerful aphrodisiac. Snow could now attest to the truth of that. Salair's exotic scent was a cool breeze winding seductively through snow-kissed trees.

Like an icy sting of fresh air on a snowy day, it awakened her passion. How ironic that an intrinsic part of his attractive scent evoked a vision of her name. . . As if he were the force that quietly flowed through her.

Like a silent storm and its snow.

Salair cupped his hands together, filling them with water. Raising his arms, he slowly let the cool liquid slide down his forearms to drip onto her breasts.

The continuous flow of droplets sluiced over the rounded globes, branching and spreading out in its path back to the pond. The silvery moon rays illuminated each perfect pear-shape and set the droplets to glow as they cascaded over the mounds and dripped off the dusky tips. Salair began to
purr
low in his throat as he watched the sensuous display. Not for the first time he rued the fact that she herself could not witness her own exquisite beauty. Especially on this night.

Her long hair spread across the surface of the pond, floating around her like a lustrous cloak. Even wet, it was remarkably luxuriant. A thick swath clung to her breasts, across her stomach, and draped enticingly over her right hip. Her long, pale lashes glowed with droplets of the sparkling water beads.

Snow's damp skin appeared almost translucent in the night. The cool water produced a perfect crest on the dusky nipples that stood at attention as the liquid caressed and cascaded over them.

She moaned gently at the fluid sensations of the cool water.

"They say that losing one sense can greatly accent the others," he murmured softly as he observed her strong reaction.

"Is that possible?" she wondered.

He quietly scooped up another handful of water, sending it tumbling over her. "Did you know that Familiars can accentuate their senses at will?"

She blinked, startled. "No, I had no idea. Then this intense
feeling
. . . is normal?"

He smiled crookedly.
For one about to be mated, yes.
"That is hard to say,
Softcat
. I would like to think I could gift you with all manner of these "intense feelings" if you would consent to allow it. And. . . that such gifts could be bestowed whether you had your sight or not."

Her hand came up and clasped his wrist. "What do you mean?"

"You set yourself apart too much, Snow. I shall give you pleasure, and I can assure you that this pleasure will not be hindered in any way by that which hinders you." Her face flamed. The man was rather blunt. "What makes you think I would welcome such intimacies?" She had meant to allow him a few kisses and caresses–nothing more.

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