Cat Star 9 - Wildcat

by Cheryl Brooks

  Her eyes widened. “You aren’t in love with me.”

  “Did you know the word love is a verb as well as a noun? To love someone requires an action.” He traced the contour of her cheek with a fingertip, his half smile making him appear more approachable than ever before. “Most people would tell you that what I did for a living had nothing to do with love. But I believe it did. I gave pleasure to women and I gave life to children. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve never forced myself on anyone. Never needed to, nor did I ever take advantage of a woman in a vulnerable state. They all had plenty of time to back out—a full year for most of them. I may never have been in love, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s required. Right now, I’m here because we need each other. I’ll stay because we want each other.”

  Sara stared at him with disbelief for some time before she finally spoke. “So, what you’re saying is that after we’ve been together for a while, we’ll get so used to being together, we’ll want to stay together?”

  “Something like that—at least, that’s how I see it.” His smile broadened, projecting a warmth that was almost palpable. “I know you haven’t had much experience with love of the heart—and neither have I—but physical love is something I know a great deal about. You could be my wife and my lover. Think of me as forbidden fruit, and you’ll want me even more.”

  Sara had never had such a strange conversation in her life. She had no idea what to make of it. “You’re still sure you want to do this?”

  “More than ever—if for no other reason than to see the look on your face when you taste surlea cheese for the first time.” His subsequent grin would’ve fascinated a far less susceptible woman than Sara. “I want to watch you discover the advantages of being in love. Most of all, I want to see your eyes the first time I give you joy—and all the times thereafter.”

  If it was a line, it was a damn good one. If it wasn’t, he was offering her something she’d never been a part of—scarcely even knew existed. “Don’t tempt me with something I can’t have, Jerden. I’m not sure I can take it.”

  His smile was so full of understanding, it nearly broke her heart. “You’ve already endured more pain than you should have. It’s even in your dreams. Let me help you find happiness.”

  She frowned at him. “I’m happy.”

  “Are you really? I don’t see it—and even more than that, I don’t detect it in your scent—at least, not the kind of happiness I can give you. But I’ll do my best to put it there.”

  Her lips formed a grim line as an unwelcome thought occurred to her. “Is this your penance for what happened to Audrey? You’ll atone for her death by making me happy?”

  “You can think that if you like, because I do feel some guilt. However, I’m beginning to see the utter futility of focusing on the ‘what-ifs’ in life. If I’d never gone to Rhylos, she needn’t have died—that sort of thing. If you look at it that way, it’s her own fault she was murdered—after all, she volunteered for the job. But, of course, it wasn’t her fault; she didn’t bring it on herself, and no one can control the actions of others.

  “There are so many things that should never have happened—like the destruction of my homeworld. I should still be living in the forests of Zetith, rather than the plains of Terra Minor. You and I should never have met. And yet we’re here, together. And right now, I’m unable to give joy to the one woman I most want to give it to, mainly because she doesn’t think she wants it or thinks she doesn’t deserve it.”

  He reached for her hand. It was a testament to her growing trust that she didn’t jerk it away. When he pressed his lips to her fingers, warmth swirled up her arm, coursing its way toward her heart.

  “Kiss me, Sara. That’s the only thanks I’ll ever ask for giving you anything your heart desires. It’s true that money can’t buy love, nor can it buy genuine gratitude, but it can give you the freedom to choose. Necessity drives most people’s lives. Having those needs met frees you to explore life and live it to the fullest.”

  He pressed her hand to his chest. “Do you have any idea how many women would envy you this simple touch? And yet, it isn’t something you think you want. But perhaps you do. You just don’t realize it.”

  All he wanted was a kiss? It seemed such a small, insignificant thing. Then it struck her that he wasn’t talking about trading sexual favors for expensive horses. He was giving her something he knew she wanted, and the only thing he asked for in return was for her to be near enough to kiss him.

  In placing her hand on his chest, he’d already pulled her closer to him. The realization that she wasn’t frightened anymore surprised her. When had that happened? While he was looking at the Friesian? When he’d bought him? She wasn’t his prisoner, whether Cria lay across the doorway or not. Not feeling trapped might seem like a trifling matter to anyone else, but it was the most amazing thing that had happened to Sara in years. He’s holding my hand to his chest, asking for a kiss, and I’m not afraid.

  He was so unlike any man she’d ever met and diametrically opposed to any that had ever touched her. He’d kissed her before. What would it be like to kiss him—to take the lead and know that she wouldn’t be ridiculed or scorned? To know that he truly wanted her kiss, welcomed it, and even craved it?

  Still, he shouldn’t have to pay quite so much for them. “You don’t have to trade horses for kisses, Jerden.”

  “I’m not. I’m only attempting to show you how much one of your kisses is worth to me.” He paused, smiling at her in a way that made her heart race and her arms long to hold him. “Oh, I might eventually make you swoon when I come riding up on that new horse, but I’d much rather have a kiss. Right here, right now.”

  After so many years of believing herself to be the kind of woman no man wanted for herself alone, she realized that Jerden didn’t need her for anything else. Danuban was his whether she liked it or not. She couldn’t keep them apart, nor could she deny that their bond was something rare and special. Nothing else she owned could begin to match what he already possessed. Jerden was a rich man. He could buy anything he wanted. Yet all he wanted was a kiss—from her…

  A kiss. So simple. So easily bestowed. Most people tossed them out like candy on Halloween—and with even less thought. She could do this. It wasn’t that hard. She leaned toward him, her hand sliding out of his grasp to his shoulder. He was right about one thing—the number of women in the galaxy who would have given anything to be in her place was shocking. And yet, she was the only one with him now.

  His aura surrounded her, his scent and his presence drew her to him like a magnet. In another heartbeat, her lips were touching his and a soft, sensuous thrill stole inward from the point of contact. Feelings long dead sprang to life, and her heart reached out to his, entwining, holding, caressing. She had no choice but to deepen the kiss, to let her arms cling to him for support, and let him support her in turn.

  She melted into him as he lifted her onto his lap, his dusky curls whisper-soft against her skin. Bowing his head, he returned her kiss, his hand on her back sending ripples of pleasure cascading down her spine. As her fingers laced through his hair, he eased her down onto the couch, her shoulder touching the cushion just as her cat scooted out of the way with a squeak of protest. Jerden’s legs stretched out beside hers and his arms cradled her upper body. She was nearly pinned beneath him but she didn’t feel the slightest bit restrained. She wasn’t being held down; she was being held. There was a difference.

  His hair was a curtain, shielding her from anything that might distract her from him, keeping her thoughts focused on him and him alone. He embraced her with his entire body, his leg drawing up to cover hers in a manner that should have felt confining but didn’t. He was purring. She could feel the vibration deep in his chest. Soothing, stimulating…

  Let it happen, Sara. Don’t fight it.

  The back door slammed. “Hey, Sara!” Reutal yelled.
“That hunela smells fuckin’ orgasmic! Isn’t it ready yet? We’re starving!”

  Jerden’s purr became a chuckle. “And here I thought I liked that guy.”

  “Oh, and just so you know, I brought an extra chair from my room,” Reutal added. “That way you and the cat can sit next to each other.”

  Sara put a hand on Jerden’s chest and gave him a gentle push. “Better let me up before he comes in here to check up on my… essence.”

  “I dunno. I think I’d like a report, myself,” Jerden said, but he let her up anyway.

  Swinging her feet over the side of the couch, she stood, frowning down at him. “So, your own indicator isn’t telling you anything?” Somehow, she thought it should have.

  “Not really,” he admitted. “But you’ve got to remember, it hasn’t been working so well lately.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your nose, is there?”

  He shook his head. “No. Your scent seems slightly different. Then again, it could be the hunela.”

  If hunela gave him an erection and she didn’t, they definitely had a problem. On the other hand, if her essence made Reutal’s tongue swell up, well, she’d just as soon not hear about it.

  ***

  Jerden didn’t know if it was the company or the kisses on the couch that were responsible, but he hadn’t enjoyed a meal as much in a very long time. It wasn’t because the hunela was the best he’d ever tasted, either—which it was, even without the lycaque root—but because of the change in Sara. She was like a new person—or perhaps a different version of the old one. All those bits and pieces he’d only caught glimpses of before were now given free rein. The odd thing was, no one else remarked upon the transformation.

  That’s because this is how she behaves when I’m not here.

  Although momentarily stunned by that realization, he knew it was true. She laughed along with the others, she smiled, she frowned, and she clearly enjoyed the food. It was similar to the moment their eyes had met while she’d been making pancakes the previous morning, only it went on throughout the entire meal. It occurred to him that he was probably the only adult male humanoid who had ever seen this side of her—the warm, laughing, fun side that she kept locked down tight.

  Did she notice the way she’d modified her behavior? Was she deliberately trying to act more normally, or was it automatic? He studied her as unobtrusively as he could and came to the conclusion that this was a natural occurrence. Her laughter didn’t seem the slightest bit forced, nor did her smiles seem less than genuine.

  Her scent had altered subtly. Before it had been a mixture of roses and Sara—the roses coming to the forefront because her own scent was so neutral—but now her own aroma dominated. Now if his dick would just work, everything would be fine. True, she didn’t smell of desire, but of a natural ease and rapport. Relaxed. Not stressed, and certainly not filled with despair.

  But how will she smell when she’s asleep?

  Only one way to find out. He smiled to himself as he thought about the coming night. Sara soft and warm in his arms, his body wrapped around hers—and, yes, he fully intended to lose the loincloth. Even if she wore a gown, he’d do his best to get skin to skin with her—couldn’t wait to feel her lying against him. He’d heard somewhere that male pheromones were transmitted via touch, and he intended to touch her as much as he possibly could. No hardship there; his whole body yearned for the contact. Night couldn’t come soon enough. He might even feign fatigue—there was bound to have been something in the day that could explain why he was tired and wanted to go to bed so early—anything to shorten the wait.

  Yet another thing I’ve never had to do—make up stories to entice a woman into my bed. But how to go about it?

  If only the weather had turned cold and she needed to snuggle up with him for warmth, or there was something to make her sleepy, or—

  Reutal yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “Well, I guess we’d better get back out to the barns and let you two lovebirds get back at it.”

  “Back at it?” Sara echoed. “What makes you think…?”

  Drania rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Sara. You’re frickin’ smiling at him—even stealing peeks at him when you think no one is looking. Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?”

  So, they did see the shift in her demeanor. He hadn’t been imagining it.

  Sara seemed put out by the question—or perhaps embarrassed was the better word. Her face grew flushed and her expression was flustered.

  Reutal stretched his fingers toward her. “Can I just have one touch?”

  “Oh, please, don’t,” Zatlen begged. “That tongue thing you do almost makes me sick.”

  Jerden expected Sara to shudder, but she did the unthinkable and offered her hand to the Norludian. “Sure, Reutal. Have at it.”

  She was laughing when she said it, but Jerden felt only tension. What if she can affect Reutal, but not me? Definitely not something I want to hear…

  Unfortunately, it was already too late. Reutal had sucked a fingertip onto the back of Sara’s hand. Within moments, he began snickering like a schoolboy, his eyes alight with mischief. “Oh, boy, someone’s gonna get lucky tonight.” He released his hold on her skin with a perceptible pop. “C’mon, gang. We’ve got to get out of here now.”

  Sara’s eyes were almost as round as the Norludian’s. Clearly this wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. Jerden felt like he’d been punched in the gut. If she was that close to sexual arousal, his cock should have been hard enough to drive nails—and it wasn’t. Then again, Reutal wasn’t having any difficulty speaking. So, how did he know?

  Reutal got up from the table and gave Jerden a nudge. “Not drowning in lust, but definitely receptive. Keep at it.”

  Jerden had serious doubts about getting lucky that night, particularly since Sara looked like she’d just been kicked by an enock. She sat there without saying a word as her stable hands filed out of the kitchen and was still staring in their direction when the back door closed behind them with a decisive click.

  Or perhaps it only seemed so loud against a backdrop of complete silence.

  Jerden had never been one to experience performance anxiety, but he was beginning to understand why many men did. The whole what if my dick doesn’t work horror was enough to make any man’s cock deflate.

  He almost laughed out loud. A Zetithian with performance anxiety? Too funny.

  Particularly in Jerden’s case. He’d been voted the best fuck on Rhylos three years straight. Still, with that kind of reputation to live up to, it was perfectly understandable for a guy to be a little nervous around a woman like Sara. This wasn’t recreational sex by any means, and there was a helluva lot more than a thousand credits riding on the outcome.

  Sara stood so quickly her chair fell over. Blushing crimson, she righted it and then snatched up the leftover hunela. “Guess no one felt like sticking around to help with the cleanup.”

  Jerden didn’t bother to argue about their motives. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll help you.”

  Her beaming smile took him by surprise. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Though he’d already suspected it, the way to Sara’s heart clearly wasn’t with trinkets or even horses. She wanted action and she wanted help. He could do that—even wanted to do it.

  She rummaged around in the cabinet and found a container for the leftovers. “Your hunela was delicious,” she said as she scraped the dish. “That’s the most raving I’ve heard from the gang in quite a while.”

  “Oh, come on, Sara,” Jerden protested. “They rave about your pancakes every morning.”

  “True. Maybe they think I’ll make them eat scrambled eggs if they don’t rave.”

  “Would you?”

  “I might,” she admitted. “Like I said, I’m a little sick of pancakes.”

  Jerden stacked up the di
rty dishes and put them in the sink. The next thing he would buy for Sara would be one of the new compact waterless dishwashers. She couldn’t say no to a gift like that—unless she particularly enjoyed washing dishes the old-fashioned way. Some people did.

  He filled the sink with water and added the soap. He’d washed several plates before he realized that Sara found this activity somewhat amusing.

  “Now that I’ve had time to think about it, the local wildcat looks pretty tame,” she said with a chuckle. “Downright domesticated, in fact.”

  He grinned back at her. “I guess it isn’t every day you see a guy with fangs and pointed ears washing dishes.”

  “Actually, it’s the loincloth that tips the scales. If you were wearing anything else, it wouldn’t seem so odd.” She went on with her task. Snapping on the lid, she put the food into the stasis unit.

  It was now or never. Unbuckling the belt that held it in place, Jerden dropped the loincloth to the floor and kicked it aside. “Better?”

  She gave a tiny gulp as her eyes swept down his nude body. “I was thinking more along the lines of adding clothes, not subtracting them.”

  “Hey, I said I’d take it off later, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.” She continued on as though naked men washed her dishes on a regular basis—which, if Reutal ever took on the chore, was perfectly true. The gulp and its accompanying stare might never have happened. “How come you never wear your new clothes?”

  Jerden shrugged. “They aren’t as comfortable. I’ll wear them when I’m in town, but the rest of the time…” Around the house, he preferred to dispense with clothing altogether—as he had just done. At the moment, however, Sara’s feelings on the subject were more important than his.

  “You’d rather be naked?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind.” Her voice sounded a shade too strained for the level of nonchalance she was attempting to convey.

  “You do mind,” he said bluntly. “Don’t you?”

  After clearing her throat, her voice sounded normal but her expression displayed even more anxiety. “No, really. Whatever you want to wear—or not—is fine with me.” She handed him the empty pan to wash. “Unfortunately, mine isn’t the only opinion you need to consider.”