Burning Tigress

by Jade Lee

  Biting back tears, Little Pearl went to the kitchen first. She quickly disposed of her marketing, and then went in search of the Tans. She went through every room and secret hiding place. Everywhere she looked she saw disaster. Broken pots, churned mud, torn tapestries, but no blood and no bodies. Blood and death had their own smell, and she could taste nothing like that in the air.

  Not dead then, only captured. And with no Mrs. Tan to tell them all was safe, the servants had disappeared. Such was the nature of Mrs. Tan's work that she had ordered all who worked or studied here to disappear should something appear amiss.

  Little Pearl stepped into the Tans' bedchamber and struggled against her tears when she saw the broken bedframe and shattered perfume vials. She cursed the Manchurians who ruled over China. She cursed the Qin and most of all she cursed General Kang, who no doubt was the one who'd abducted the Tans in the middle of the night. Only Kang's soldiers had horses to break the courtyard stones and foul the ornamental shrubs. And only the most powerful general in all of China would dare abduct the wealthy Tans from their bed.

  Little Pearl felt her hands clench. She was a small woman with bound feet. She had little money and no status. But still she thought of punching the horrible General Kang in his face. She would beat his arrogant brow and rip off his privates. Then she would tear open the cell door and bring the Tans home where they belonged. She would personally supervise the drawing of the perfumed baths, and she would make them such a feast that the hateful Manchus would be completely forgotten.

  That was what she would do if she could. Frustration filled her with a surge of rancid yang. It coiled in her breast and found escape in vicious curses and violent fantasies. But soon even that yang depleted, leaving her weak and trembly amid the debris of an emptied home.

  The Tans were not here. She had walked the compound twice, mentally cataloguing all the damage. It did not take long for her to form an idea of what had happened. The soldiers arrived in the dead of night. Neither the master nor the mistress had been in bed. They had been in the main exercise chamber and teaching room. She had no idea what they'd been doing. She had found a poisoned dagger, discarded clothing, and a message to herself. This she had quickly torn open, praying for a different explanation, but what was written there only added to her confusion.

  Little Pearl, Shi Po had written, allow Kui Yu to manage all funeral arrangements. He will wish to do so himself. To you, I entrust my most precious Tigress school. I know you will run it well for I have seen your great yin heart and vital yang force. I also ask that you take charge of my husband. He will need a strong woman at his side and I know you will make an excellent wife for him. May your qi ever flow strong and clear, my dear friend and fellow cub. Knowing you are here lightens my passing.—Shi Po

  Little Pearl read the missive three times and still had no idea what it meant. Obviously, her mistress had expected to die. Did that mean she'd known General Kang would come for her? But Kui Yu was gone, too. Or was he? None of it made any sense.

  Without conscious thought, she wended her way through the compound back to the kitchen. She would make soup for herself and the servants, something that could be eaten whenever whoever eventually appeared. It would boil in the back courtyard fire, the aroma an enticement to servant and student alike. Since no worker was around to start the fire, Little Pearl abused her feet more as she gathered charcoal and wood. The fire lit quickly, her hands moving at lightning speed. She poured water into the pot, then added the leftover stock from last night's chicken. One of the steelheads would go squirming into the pot as soon as the water boiled. In the meantime, she would chop vegetables while she thought.

  She harvested the last of the green onion, chopping it quickly while the unnerving silence ate into her calm. The Tan household was marked by noise and movement of servants, students, even animals. All were absent, and so she doubled the noise of knife against wood to drown out the stillness.

  Eventually the women appeared. By ones and twos, the students slipped into the kitchen, their eyes wide, their shoulders hunched in fear. Little Pearl acted as she always did. She pointed to the food, and as they ate, she gave them their instructions. No class today. Instead, they would clean and take stock of what had survived the night and what had not. All this would be reported back to Little Pearl in the kitchen. And in this manner, she survived the bulk of the day.

  The first visitor appeared just before noon: Mrs. Sing with the laundry. Little Pearl paid from the kitchen money and made no answer to the woman's probing questions. Everything was as it should be, she lied. Why do you ask?

  Then came the usual parade of beggars, cripples, and the curious. Despite her lies to the laundry woman, anyone who peered into the front courtyard would see the disaster. To these outsiders, she maintained a steady stream of small talk as if nothing were wrong, no one was missing, all was normal.

  Ken Jin appeared just after midday, Ken Jin and his newest white pet. She dispensed with them as quickly as possible. She was ill-tempered with her former dragon partner, but she had no time for his games. They had once cared for one another, but he had grown too attached. Now she allowed her anger to pollute the air between them as a reminder to them both that a dragon and tigress might share yin and yang in their sexual congress, but they never loved one another. Nevertheless, when he left, she found herself stripping vegetables with more calm. If anyone could find out the truth about the Tans, it would be Ken Jin. She trusted him that much.

  Time to steam the dumplings for the prostitutes' evening meal. Many of the students practiced their craft at the nearby pleasure gardens. None would receive dinner despite the exorbitant prices the madams charged for their services. So Little Pearl gave them dumplings filled with vegetables and herbs to aid in yang energy retention. They would eat between clients and gather much yang.

  She had set the first dumplings in the steaming pot when another caller appeared: an associate of Master Tan requesting an audience. Little Pearl sighed. These interruptions did not make for balanced food.

  She wiped the moisture off her face and hurried to the reception hallway. Two steps outside of the kitchen and she had to turn back around. She could not appear before a businessman as a cook. She quickly stripped out of her food-stained tunic and pulled on a respectable gown. She had only one—a well-worn black silk tunic with gold embroidery to bring brightness to her dark eyes. It was designed for seduction, the clasps pulling the fabric tight to her small hips and pert breasts. The skirt was slit all the way up her thigh. It was a respectable chong san for a respectable woman, though rather elaborate for midafternoon. It also made the men salivate and their yang surge, especially since it gave full view of her tiny bound feet.

  She'd taken too much time changing her clothing, so now she had to rush to the receiving chamber. She used the handholds placed throughout the compound to ease the ache in her legs and to speed her progress, but she still appeared inappropriately breathless when she stepped into the reception room.

  "My deepest apologies for the delay," she whispered, her voice automatically taking on the husky tones of a seductress. She never consciously changed her mannerisms, they simply shifted as she donned one outfit or another.

  The man turned to greet her, his black Manchurian queue barely shifting with his body. She smiled and bowed to him, belatedly realizing that she had erred. Not only had she forgotten to order tea, but she was not hidden behind the women's screen. Only a prostitute or the clumsiest servant would appear before a visitor like this.

  She felt her shoulders hunch in shame and her gaze dropped to the floor. Too late to slip behind the screen now. At best, she would have to act as exactly what she was: a stupid, ignorant servant awkwardly thrust into a role too elevated for her training.

  "Master Tan not home today," she said in a coarse accent. "Best come back tomorrow."

  The man didn't answer but studied her with unnerving intensity. She reciprocated the inspection, but through lowered eyelashes. He was of a
verage height for a Han Chinese and had a fastidious appearance. His tunic was made of the best silk and excellently tailored, but his tone was modest, his entire impression... inconsequential. All except for a nearly hidden jade bracelet on his right wrist: an imperial dragon which marked him as a very well-connected man in Shanghai.

  He dressed to be unnoticed, but Little Pearl had been trained to evaluate a man's qi in a heartbeat. This man had enough yang power to overwhelm a woman. He was not insignificant. If anything, he had the power of a governor or viceroy running through his veins. That he would hide such strength beneath modest tailoring made him doubly dangerous. The deadliest snakes hid in the most common grass.

  "Greetings, Tan mistress," he said formally, his friendly tone completely at odds with his suppressed energy.

  "No, no," she responded with pretend embarrassment. "I am not the mistress here. I am merely—"

  "The cook. Yes, I know."

  She blinked, momentarily stunned. His lips curled in a friendly smile that clashed with his energies. She could not define how, only that she did not trust his false openness.

  "You are Little Pearl," he said. "Kui Yu spoke of you often. He praised your cooking...." His voice dropped in tone. "And your beauty."

  Was she supposed to be flattered? What kind of woman would be pleased that she distracted her mistress's husband? She straightened and folded her hands demurely before her. "You are correct, sir. I am the cook. Please return tomorrow to speak with Mr. Tan."

  "But he is not coming back. Nor is Shanghai's most famous Tigress. Surely you know this."

  It took all her training not to leap upon his news and demand answers. She lifted her gaze to his open expression and pretended complete stupidity. "I don't understand."

  "The Tans have been taken by General Kang. You will most likely never see them again."

  "You are mistaken," she said coldly, but her muscles trembled with the strain of remaining upright. His yang power was overwhelming, and she was rapidly failing beneath the onslaught. Her yin urged her to soften and yield. "I have served all the Tan guests, and you have never been one of them."

  His smile widened at her words, and too late she realized their double meaning. She meant that she'd served them food. He obviously knew she did other tasks as well. Too late she remembered that he'd called Shi Po the famous Tigress of Shanghai. He knew, then. He knew what was taught here and was titillated by it.

  Except once again, his energies did not feel sexually excited. They felt...

  "I apologize," he said with a sudden burst of laughter. Her thoughts scattered at the sound, and she found her gaze pulled back to him. He looked like a stick pretending to be the happy Buddha. "I am Mr. Su, but you should call me Jian Lie. I believe that we shall become fast friends, you and I, as we weather this storm."

  He was trying to seduce her, she abruptly realized. First he complimented her looks, then he offered her information, and lastly, he extended an equal friendship to her, a lowly cook. Add to that the heated pulse of his yang energy, and most women would collapse in gratitude without even knowing the cause.

  Truly, he had the skill of a dragon, and yet such a focused campaign left her angry. She had no time for seductive games. The dumplings were probably rotting in the steamer right now. Still, she had responsibilities to Shi Po's students, if nothing else.

  She straightened. "If you return tomorrow, I will find a student for you. Your yang runs too strong. It must be very uncomfortable." Then she bowed deeply before him. "My apologies, but my duties call me."

  She turned to leave, but he stopped her with words that cut like cold iron. "Mr. Tan and I had business together. With him in prison, I must take on his tasks just as you must become mistress here. Do not think to gainsay me on this. I must see his papers."

  "Mr. Tan is not here," she retorted firmly, part of her wondering where she found the strength. "Please return tomorrow. Perhaps he will see you then."

  He released a hiss of frustration, a hot breath that fouled the air between them. Truly his yang was poisoning him. "The Tans will not return. How will you teach her students, feed their servants, and pay their taxes without money? How will you honor your mistress without my help?"

  "By locking Mr. Tan's office door against all who would rob him."

  "I am not a thief!" he spat. "I am trying to help!"

  She almost believed him. But experience taught that a man of strong yang could make a woman believe almost anything. And yet she felt abused by him rather than persuaded. His yang cut tiny rivulets into her as surely as a knife scoured the scales off a fish. To hide the pain, she dropped into a respectful bow. "Apologies, sir, but I must attend to my duties."

  He relaxed then. He smiled and ran a hand over his face as if in exhaustion while his bracelet winked in the sunlight; casual gestures that appeared too polished to be true. "Soon the money will be gone and creditors will break down the door. Only I, Su Jian Lie, can help you." He paused and his gaze burned with yang intensity. "All depends on you now. The Tans' fortune is under your control to strengthen or waste. Think of how you will be rewarded should you make the right choices. I will return for your answer tomorrow."

  She had no answer for that and no time to ask; he spun on his heel and left while she remained frozen with indecision. Could he be right? She cared nothing for a reward, but what if the Tan money did depend on her? How could she manage? The kitchen money would not last long. Fortunately, she knew the location of the other cache: a large sum of money for emergencies. But how much was there? The Tan household required much cash to support both home and school. What if the Tans returned to find that their home had been lost, the students scattered to the wind, and nothing remained of all that had once been?

  Was it truly Little Pearl's task to see that all remained as it once was? The thought was horrifying. And yet who else could bear this burden?

  Cornered Tigress

  The Way of The Tigress

  Book Five

  by

  Jade Lee

  ~

  To purchase

  Cornered Tigress

  from your favorite eBook Retailer,

  visit Jade Lee's eBook Discovery Author Page

  www.ebookdiscovery.com/JadeLee

  ~

  Discover more with

  eBookDiscovery.com

  Page forward for an excerpt from Jade Lee's

  Award-winning

  Tempted Tigress

  The Way of The Tigress

  Book Six

  Excerpt from

  Tempted Tigress

  The Way of The Tigress

  Book Six

  by

  Jade Lee

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  TEMPTED TIGRESS

  Awards & Reviews

  2008 Romantic Times Hero’s KISS award winner

  2008 RITA award finalist for Best Historical

  ~

  "This paranormal romance explores Eastern concepts of sex and power in a partial fantasy setting. Unusual, very sensual and yet emotionally sweet... a very different but extremely enjoyable story."

  ~ Romantic Times

  ~

  "...a passionate, steamy tale.... Lee gets into the heart of the characters making them emotionally appealing. Definitely one for the keeper shelf."

  ~NIGHT OWL Romance

  ~

  "...a marvelous journey for any reader."

  ~Eye On Romance

  ~

  "....truly touches you in ways you never imagined a book could. Regardless of what sort of genre you may typically read, you won't be disappointed. An incredibly moving story of love and survival."

  ~Fresh Fiction Reviews

  In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

  A stately pleasure-dome decree:

  Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

  Through caverns measureless to man

  Down to a sunless sea.

  —Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  This fragment with a good deal
more, not recoverable, composed, in a sort of Reverie brought on by two grains of Opium taken to check a dysentery.

  —Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1797

  Prologue

  The best thing about an opium high was that one could make the most mundane observation and think it an amazing stroke of brilliance. Right now, Anna Marie Thompson thought the following conclusion was the height of genius: Dying would be unfortunate. And poor Governor Wan was about to experience a very, very unfortunate death at the hands of the Imperial Enforcer.

  "Come away, Sister Marie. Do not look out the window. He will see you."

  Anna nodded, but she could not make her body move. She reclined on a silk couch right next to the window, and she really had no interest in budging. Especially as she had just come to another brilliant conclusion: Though dying would be unfortunate, the moments before death—the time when one knew one was about to die but couldn't do anything about it—those would be worse.

  They were obviously the worst for poor Governor Wan. He was kneeling in his luxurious garden—one filled with stunning ornamental plants and exotic flowers—and gibbering like an idiot. Spittle flew from his mouth in his passion. He alternated between pleading for his life and cursing the Imperial Enforcer's family. He begged, he screamed, he cried... and he completely failed to save his life. Nothing touched the emperor's assassin.

  Anna stared at the man who towered over the sobbing governor. Here was the man all drug-runners feared. He had many names among her set, but they all boiled down to one thing: he killed. Without mercy or any show of emotion, he systematically murdered the people who smuggled opium into China. The users might be shown mercy, but carriers were gutted like fish.

  The Enforcer couldn't be bribed or threatened. Those had been the first things Governor Wan had tried. And worst of all: the Enforcer always destroyed the merchandise.