Gentle Beast

by Margaret Afseth

  It took mere minutes for her to find jeans that fit her, and a top much looser than the one she wore. After all, these were her things. Everything was here: clothing and bedding, furniture; ornaments and pictures, kitchen pots, spices, and dishes, all her property. How they had come by it, Althea didn’t know.

  As far as I'm concerned, they can have it all, but I will not leave behind the family picture in the corner.

  When she had donned the clothing, she made a bee line for the snapshot, slipped it from the frame, folded it, and hid it in the pocket of her slacks. Then she joined Loki, and stayed at his side, until he was ready to go.

  He carried her back through the darkened hallway. The stalls brought back memories of Lana and Beth.

  Where are they now? Are they dead?

  That night as Loki lay sleeping, she slipped from the sleep mat, got the photograph from her jeans, and sat gazing longingly at the picture.

  I will never again see my daughter and son, my granddaughters; they are lost to me forever.

  And Althea cried, silently and bitterly, letting go of that chapter of her life regretfully.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Shiveron! Attend me!” the irate voice of Dia came from the intercom. “In my office!”

  Barely healed, he hadn’t even been back to the home nest. When he’d entered the hospital central ward, Shiveron had sent Reon on ahead to present Moriah and Iora to Dia. He’d expected the matriarch to train the females, and heal his new she, but though Shiveron and his son had remained in the medical wing awaiting word, until now he had heard nothing.

  And it did not bode well that his foster mother was angry.

  Where is Reon?

  “Coming, momma Dia.”

  When Shiveron arrived, he knew why he hadn’t been able to find Reon. He was met by him at the office door. The boy slunk away, as if he’d betrayed his father, or had been roundly reprimanded…or both.

  Dia got to him first.

  Shiveron hated when she went around him to get the facts. It always meant he had no time to prepare her, and she took the tainted view as gospel.

  Steeling himself, Shiveron went inside.

  Indeed, momma was in a scolding mood, livid as a cat on a hot tin roof. Though all her foster children now stood much taller than the five foot Feline, when she was enraged, they cowed. In spite of being ninety, Dia was powerful and vicious when it was needed. But Shiveron knew her as both harsh, and gentle. From past experience, he also knew to wait her out.

  “Whatever possessed you?” Dia spit. “What were you thinking? To risk young Reon, yet! Is to have a female so important? You both could have been lost! There are so few of you; did you consider your Noor heritage? You are the preservation of that species!”

  Shiveron hung his head, letting the tirade wash over him. He knew until she wound down, he’d never get a word in edge ways.

  Finally, silence reigned in the room.

  “I sent Reon away from the battle…” he ventured, assuming Reon had spilled the evidence of the Roog encounter.

  “Oh, yes! So he could come back to find he was orphaned completely…or perhaps, his poppa, a prisoner. Well…at least I’ll give you this much. You did keep him safe.”

  “He has a beautiful she, chose her himself…”

  Dia hissed. “Little spitfire, she is. Talks back; I had to scruff her, and she would not give quarter easily.”

  Oh, great. Could it get any worse?

  Shiveron remembered his first discipline. He couldn’t recall the circumstance, only the uncomfortable, terrified feeling of being powerless beneath the formidable Feline, who at that time was three times his size.

  At his arrogant disrespect, Dia had pounced from behind, catching him by the back of the neck just below his ears, her deadly teeth just barely breaking skin. She held him face to the side against the hard floor, straddling his back, hissing viciously. One wrong move on his part, and she could have snapped his neck.

  All she had wanted from him was submission and an apology, no back talk, no challenge, just, as she called it, ‘quarter’. When he surrendered beneath her, and admitted his fault, apologized, Dia had rolled him over, and cuddled him, rubbing her face against his, her scent glands marking him as her own.

  None of her children would ever fight her after such an encounter. They much preferred the reassurance of her arms, the feline smell of her silken, long black fur, as her scent went from feral to loving. Her body heat created comfort, the soft coat arousing against their bare skin; the purr of contented acceptance that followed, made them feel protected.

  No, not one would cross her again after that first scruffing and cuddle…not even her mate, Kimon.

  “She is submissive now,” Dia declared. “And, both females have now been trained to know our ways, and their place. It did not help that you took them by force.”

  “It was the only way, momma. You know that. They won’t let me take second mate, and that leaves Reon in limbo. I just wanted him to have a chance.”

  “What chance? By the ruling put forth by that Roog moderator, no Noor or Noor-half may have offspring. We are to kill them before or at birth, according to that usurper.”

  “But you won’t, momma. I know that.”

  Dia sighed. “No I would not. Have I killed my fosters? Did I do away with Reon or Jabek when they were birthed? No! Nor will I any other, even should they put the whole healer nest in prison.” She hissed a Feline curse word, and spat. “Wish there was just one pure Noor living. They policed this universe with compassion and justice. If the Roog had not eradicated them all, our Space would be quite different. The Roog would be the ones under discipline for their practices!”

  “If we could just get moderator Clio off the universal council…”

  “Aye. Someday…there will come a Noor leader again. Noor prophecy foretells of a two and two, a four ruler, and they will govern the twelve Feline planets plus one of their own, and expand to include all the civilized universe. It is said this will come to pass in our generation. Many have thought Liam Loki is the male of that four…”

  “Ah, momma. How? He is forbidden to mate…and in his case, the mental must choose. Liam has no flesh inclination to fall into physical love…”

  “Ha! And, you have sidetracked me, haven’t you? So…you apparently have such a physical need.”

  Shiveron faded abruptly. As he fazed in again, he declared: “I could not leave the momma. The she was alone…and momma Dia, she is a warrior princess!”

  “Is she now? Is that how she came to be so broken?”

  “Ah, momma. She was broken before…and still she fought at my side. If it had not been for her, Reon would have indeed found me dead.”

  “I like her, but like her daughter, she needed to learn her place.”

  “Did you have to scruff her, as well?”

  “I only needed to warn, and when she saw I could handle the young one, she willingly gave quarter to me. Moriah had not learned the trick of discipline, surrender followed by love. She gave in too easily; spoiled the kit when young. It will be different now.”

  “Are you still mad with me?”

  “You know my anger is short lived. I like your she. Fact is I approve of both choices. I have told Reon he must teach his she to trust, by giving her kindness. Mother and daughter have it beneath, but have fallen into the habit of battling for supremacy. With leadership taken from them, they will learn by example.”

  Dia sighed. “But now we must face your problem. Your little she is too hurt to be healed. I have taught her female ways, so now you must take her to Liam to teach and train in a task that suits her, but handicapped, she will never be able to fill her mate duty, nor will she be strong enough for much work. Without healing, you will never have a lover; she will die of her pain. I am sorry, Shiveron. Perhaps, Kimon has a solution…”

  “There is another way…”

  “Discuss that with your poppa. You know that is forbidden.”

  “Where have yo
u put her momma?”

  “She rests in the ante off my office. It is in your hands now.”

  ****

  “I wish Loki were free,” Kimon bemoaned. “He could have instantly healed this.”

  Shiveron and Kimon had stepped away to discuss the prognosis, leaving Moriah alone on the examination cot.

  “Use me, poppa,” Shiveron pleaded. “I too have the Noor blood.”

  Kimon hissed in vexation. “Your infection is minimal, yet…still deadly. As soon as the principal has been corrupted, the Noor blood virus spreads unperceived through all consecutive living relatives, and even to succeeding generations; they don’t even need to be in contact. It is like it spreads by thought… That is why they disallow carriers mate status. We do this, we are breaking the law!”

  “I don’t care! This she is mine; I am responsible for her. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it on my own.”

  “And what of Reon’s she?”

  “He already has the anomaly. If the daughter will have him, and they are both carriers, none can object if they are mated. No harm; no fowl. Is your nest not already all Noor-half?”

  Insult was immediately evident.

  “You forget! I am not! Dia is not!”

  “If you could be infected, it would already have happened. Never mind. I’ll do it on my own. If Dia wishes to expel us for that, we will go out on our own.”

  “Dia does not condemn your idea, you know that.”

  Shiveron turned to go back to his hurting female.

  “Wait, Shiveron,” pleaded Kimon. “I will help. You are my foster, and I see she is very important to you.”

  ****

  Moriah cried out as he undressed her, not because she thought he meant to violate her, but because every movement brought pulsing livid fire up the length of her spine. Her neck was so stiff and unyielding it had numbed everything from there down, and as Shiveron moved her, the tears of agony came.

  He moaned in empathic sympathy along with her, but still proceeded.

  It is necessary.

  CHAPTER 25

  Moriah half woke on a bed of straw. Still too sleepy to realize where she was, she stretched to ease the pain in her back, but kept her eyes shut, aware of the bright lights above, through translucent lids.

  The stench of feces, urine and blood assaulted her senses.

  Did I pass out at work?

  Yet still, her eyelids felt so heavy, she couldn’t raise them, and Moriah remained unmoving, not making the effort to open them.

  With a sight beyond herself, Moriah became aware of the room in which she lay; though her lids remained closed, she could see her surroundings: a sheet over her body, the wall across the way, and bars to the left side.

  Bars? As in a prison cell? How did I get here?

  I must be dreaming. Right?

  Like a turntable carousel, the wall opposite began to revolve, until what was on the back of it was facing front. When it stopped turning, Moriah saw the large, black and silver, shorthaired, cat-like humanoid strapped against the wall, his legs and arms spread-eagle in the shape of an x. She heard the click, as the bands across wrists and ankles released.

  For a second his image dimmed. Then he dropped to a crouch, rubbed blood from his hands along the straw on the floor, and suddenly he was beside her, crawling under the sheet with her.

  He ran his one hand along her sore back, then across to her waist, and she realized she was naked. He cuddled, surrounding her shoulders, forming a comfort of warmth, like a second blanket from behind.

  That feels so good.

  His other hand passed over her breast to settle on her belly, and she realized she was heavy with child. She drifted off to sleep again feeling loved and safe.

  ****

  The second dream came much more harsh.

  She awoke, but did not open her eyes. She realized she was once again alone, and the pains of birthing were in progress.

  As before, even with eyes closed, she could see the room about her, the bright light, the wall across from her. It was empty.

  And once again, it began to rotate.

  Shocked by what she saw, a scream escaped her.

  Shiveron hung against the wall, this time unconscious. His body was slashed with deep bleeding cuts, up the legs, thighs, belly and arms. On his right cheek was an ugly oozing cut.

  Tears sprang unnoticed, coursing down her cheeks and dropping from her chin. She choked back a second scream, knowing it would bring back the cruel tormentors.

  All she wanted now was to go to him, get him down, and wash him.

  Without opening her eyes, as if in a dream, she rose from the floor, moved over to a pail of water that contained a cloth. Moriah had a sense of de-ja vu, as if they were repeating an on going torture ritual, as she carried the bucket toward her male, and set it down to the side.

  She was limping, as if she too had been hurt. Not looking down to see why her feet would not properly obey her, Moriah only had eyes for her male. As she stood beneath him, she wondered how to get him down.

  Suddenly, one at a time, the upper bands on the wall released, and Shiveron slumped forward, first hanging by only one hand, then his ankles. At last, dropping completely, drunkenly toward her, as the second set of cuffs let go, he fell.

  Moriah reached out to catch him. He landed heavily against her, covering her with his battered body, dragging her down with him. With much effort, she flipped him, moving out from beneath him, leaving him resting on his side.

  Tears crawled her cheeks, melding with the water, as she wrung out the rag, and gently washed his forehead, then his eyes.

  Coming to, he sighed softly, but did not open his eyes to look at her. Instead, tears slipped from beneath his lids.

  This is my fault. I wouldn’t cooperate with them, so they’ve tortured my male.

  But, for the life of her, she couldn’t recall what they wanted of her, or who they even were. Then she remembered: she and Shiveron had been attacked. One captor wanted her to give herself to him and she’d refused.

  She carefully washed the angry cut on her male’s face. He winced when first she touched it.

  On down the body: arms, chest, belly, she proceeded to wash. His broad beautiful chest was banded with the deep gashes, stopped only in the region of the drain-belt they had fastened around his waist.

  How did they do this to him? Do they have a new weapon? One that only hurts a Noor?

  When she reached his groin, she realized how close they’d come to damaging the vital hidden manhood within. Though the genitals were not visible exteriorly, the cruel cuts were inches away from the small slit opening concealing his tool. Just a little more to the side, and they would have castrated her male.

  She shook as she worked, silent tears travelling still, her own labour forgotten for the moment. He lay quiet, sighing with the pain of her ministrations, but not a word of complaint escaped him. He would take death itself for her and their kit.

  She inched back away from him, watched as he began to heal.

  “Now,” came a harsh voice on the air. “You will give me what I want!”

  As they came to take her, Moriah began to scream again, thrashing out at them blindly, fearing.

  Why can’t I see?

  Then a fleeting jump forward brought to another moment: the aftermath. When haemorrhaging profusely, she’d given birth to a son.

  Yet no, that was another.

  After accomplishing their fiendish task, the Roog had left Shiveron and his mate to die, not bothering even to watch, as the Feline female had bled out. And after the mother had escaped in death, Shiveron had hid the newborn kit beneath him, until days later rescue from home had come.

  But, it had been too late…too late…too late for that beloved first love. And consequently, the infant Reon had grown up without her.

  After all these years, Shiveron still grieved, howling mournfully in a private corner when he could, away from the prying eyes of others. But his brother knew, and did
not reprimand, though his comfort often was rejected.

  Only she, Moriah could end that cycle.

  ****

  It was common practice in Feline society for a parent or male guardian to share the bed with a sick kit or mate while they underwent hospital care. Shiveron had dozed off, sheltering from behind, when he first felt Moriah tense in his arms. Before he realized it, with her new telepathic abilities, she had joined his mind, through a dream-like state, entering his memories.

  When she began screaming, it was already too late. He couldn’t shut her out in time. Shiveron brought his arms up around her to ease, held Moriah until she stopped thrashing. In a desire for additional comfort, she turned front into him. He was shocked at the unexpected acceptance.

  Whether the action was intentional or not, Moriah was aware of the Feline custom, as Dia had sleep-schooled her. For a female to turn face to the male and straddle him, as she was doing, meant she accepted him as her mate; it was an unspoken invitation for him to take her.

  And from her mind, Shiveron realized, Moriah was serious in her action.

  But he also knew, physically, she was not healthy enough yet for the offer to be enacted, so instead, he cuddled her deep; she moulded against him, basking in their closeness, falling asleep again instantly.

  Suddenly, Kimon was beside them.

  “I heard the she screaming,” he whispered. “Is she in pain? I thought she was responding to the treatment.”

  “She was dreaming.”

  Shiveron felt it was useless to explain.

  Kimon will not understand the full depth of a telepathic relationship. How can he? He is merely Feline.

  “She will be fine, healing well. No need to worry.”

  Kimon nodded, appeased for the moment, and disappeared the way he had come.

  Rejoicing in his acquired new status, Shiveron eased back into slumber himself, content to know he was now promised to his female, and nothing could change the fact of it.

  CHAPTER 26