by JAX
Hanna felt as if she had been slapped in the face and she jerked back from his hold.
“Greetings, my Lady. May I be of assistance?”
Jhon and Hanna both jerked in surprise at the politely officious voice. They turned to see a stern-faced street sentry eyeing Jhon critically.
“Is this slave out of line, my Lady? I saw him grab you and thought to come to your assistance.”
Hanna turned to the sentry and did what she did best; she smiled and slid with perfect charm into the space between Jhon and the sentry. “Of course you did. So attentive to your duty!” she praised, making the man turn lilac around his neck. “But you needn’t worry. I am Master Drakoulous, and this is my slave. He is new, you see”—she offered with a broad wink—“and sometimes he craves my affections quite strongly. I’m afraid I encourage it. It is so…manly.” This last statement was delivered with a sensuous shivering of her body for emphasis.
“I see,” the soldier said, his pale blue eyes tracking down her body with obvious lasciviousness.
Jhon had to wrap a fist around the surge of fury that welled up inside of him. It was amazing how brightly it burned in his belly, almost as if he would radiate green light out of his mouth if he but opened it. Instead, he kept perfectly still and molded his expression out of the hardest stone.
“My Lady should discipline her slave better and perhaps pursue some of the after-hours social clubs that would cater to your needs for men like that,” he suggested with a chuckle.
“I will take that under advisement. Thank you so much,” she laughed. “Come Vejhon, we are late for the marketplace.”
“Enjoy the bazaar, my Lady,” the sentry said as he touched his hat in respectful farewell.
They walked on quietly for a long minute, Jhon swallowing back his impotent anger and Hanna cringing from how he was feeling. She had warned him how difficult it would be. It was only fair she gave him time to adjust, but another part of her couldn’t bear the idea of him ever adapting to the role of a subservient. It simply did not suit his soul.
Had she done him a terrible injustice binding him to her and this world? Oh, she knew that taking him off this world was impossible. He could only accompany his owner offworld, and no Masters were ever allowed offworld, as it was deemed both too dangerous and too inconvenient for the needs of the Chamber. What could she have done differently that would have made his existence more bearable?
Her guilty emotions were radiating back to her mate in waves and snatches, but he understood enough to know she was wracking her conscience over her choices, forgetting that he had made choices as well. She always took too much responsibility onto herself, he was realizing. She had enough to do, beginning with caring for her family, taming her sister, and being responsible for the entire future of her House. This hardly touched on the responsibilities she was weighted down with because she felt everything she had to do for the people she represented.
There had to be a middle ground in all of this, and Jhon realized it would be his responsibility to think of it. In fact, it needed to be his own solution, rather than one laid in place by her for him. She had already handed him enough. What he needed was to figure out a way to contribute to her House and her society…
…while playing the role of a slave.
That was the part that made him gag almost every time. He needed to reconcile it. He had sworn to her that he was a mature and well-practiced man who could comport himself with perfect control.
Realizing he was letting himself be too distracted with inner thoughts, Jhon focused on the road that was leading into the bazaar. It was a dark day, everything like deep night around them, except everything was brilliantly lighted around the colorful tents. The difference between the average streetlamps and those in the market was momentarily blinding, but Jhon adjusted quickly enough to catch up with Hanna as she began to browse tables, racks, and displays on rugs on the ground right from the moment she saw them. He stood close to her back, watching her as she touched and examined all sorts of things.
What she liked, of course, were things of unique art or art forms, handmade and painstakingly creative. She enjoyed praising the artists, many of whom knew her as a frequent patron. What was more, she remembered their names, the names of their families, and little personal details. Watching her make her way through the bazaar with people calling out, smiling at her and waving, some giving her free trinkets or flowers filled him with a sense of awe. She was by far the best politician Jhon had ever known. Regardless of her fears and flaws, she was always sincere and she worked in her world with her heart behind her actions. Vejhon realized that all of these people understood that. If her office had needed an election to obtain it, she would easily have earned her place.
He was back to taking pleasure in simply watching her walk. She took him on a wild ride through his own emotions, definitely in a way he had never experienced before, but she was proving to be worth the ride. When she beckoned him forward to a table he was already smiling at her because of the shine of excitement radiating from her vivid eyes.
“Look,” she said.
He did. He felt his entire body tense with…he had no idea what he was feeling as he stared down at the beautiful display of weaponry. Blades, blasters, and more, things he had no idea what they were but he quickly began to figure out how they were used. He reached to touch a slim stiletto in its hard, black lacquer sheath. The bejeweled stuff was ridiculous to him, but this blade was black and silver, slim and simple. He drew the knife and found the blade to be the thinnest metal he had ever seen. So thin it looked like it would snap at the slightest pressure. He glanced up at the merchant, who was chuckling.
“That is frizzon metal. It is the strongest metal in all the worlds. Also, easy to work with. You will be amazed. Go ahead, try to bend the blade on the table.”
Jhon did exactly that, expecting easy flexibility from something so thin. Instead, the unbending blade slid into the wood a half inch before he stopped to pull it out.
“Gods,” he swore, “this thin and strong, sharp besides? You could take it across a throat and leave your enemy talking for a minute before he realized it!”
“My Lady, your slave has a fine eye for weaponry. Would you care to purchase this for yourself now that you have his recommendation?”
Of course. A slave couldn’t be armed.
“Yes, my Lady,” he said quietly. “It is a perfect blade for a woman. Slim and easy to conceal. Excellent for your protection.”
Hanna watched him perform his part and felt her heart shattering. What had she been thinking, bringing him to a treasure of things he loved…that he could not have? Her impulse had been to please him, to give him the pleasure of seeing the fine weaponcraft on her planet.
“Excuse me,” she said softly.
Jhon watched her suddenly turn away and hurry away from him. He reset the blade in its sheath and handed it to the merchant. “It is truly a work of art, my Lord.”
“Thank you for saying so,” the merchant said with sincerity, even though he did not have to acknowledge a slave with such respect.
Vejhon turned to look for Hanna quickly, hurrying in the direction she had moved. He sought her clothing, but the place was crowded and the lights as they hit the verandas and tents threw just as many in shadow as they disclosed. He resisted calling her name and forced himself to pause and calm himself. He could track her anywhere. Her scent was imbedded in him bone deep. Even with such a mass of odors and trails of scent, he would be able to find her.
It struck him like a starburst, that familiar concoction of sex and chocolate, and it made him smile. She was moving quickly, in a ragged pattern because she was pushing through so many others. He followed at top walking speed, not quite running because he didn’t wish to attract attention. Stronger and stronger her trail grew, then dipped into one of the tent alleys. These were the rare partings of the fabric in a row of merchants. They opened into long strips of space between the back-to-back rows of tents
in the bazaar street that the merchants used to travel behind the stalls and to store surplus inventory. Why she would travel such a route was completely beyond him, but he followed in spite of all of Najir’s warnings never to do so alone. He wasn’t going to let her stay out of his sight like this.
She actually leaped into his sight quite easily a minute later. He saw the flash of her white clothing first, and then the whip of her hair in the deep shadows cast by the two heavy tents she stood between.
Stop!
Vejhon obeyed simply because the command racing through his brain was like a shock. Then he saw the larger, darker forms closing in on Hanna. He honestly tried to remember everything Najir had tried to tell him, about how Hanna could defend herself, a fact he had seen firsthand. But the simple truth was that he didn’t have it in him to hold back, and the agony ripping through his chest and guts told him that he could never forgive himself if she got so much as a hair out of place because he hesitated to act.
He was, however, aware of the need for stealth. He could draw no attention to them or he would be risking his life and possibly Hanna’s. He moved with a speed that was part of the gifts she had given him to reach her, and he knew from that instant he would never bitch about the sacrifices he had been forced to make ever again. It was worth it. The instant his fight instinct was agitated the darkness seemed to lighten up, shapes and movement becoming much clearer. He was able to count quickly what the odds were.
Six to two.
Hmm.
Good odds.
The irreverent thought was pushed at Hanna and she turned to see him coming, ignoring her command to stop. He didn’t realize that these thugs weren’t after her. They were after him. Sure enough, as soon as they caught sight of him, they stopped the delaying taunting they had been using to keep her corralled among them and burst into instant action.
On the plus side, they were completely ignoring Hanna. They would regret that. On the negative? These guys knew nothing about stealth. And not too much about fighting either, Jhon learned quickly as the first one reached for him with a roundhouse. Idiot. Jhon dodged and let him overshoot his balance from his missed momentum, then grabbed hold of his head, kicked his feet back out from under him, and let him land face first in the questionable stickiness of the tent alley ground.
Someone grabbed him from behind.
Someones. One wrangled him around his neck, hanging down his back like a monkey and two others grabbed his arms and pulled back until Jhon felt straining on his shoulder sockets. He tried to brace his feet, but the simian around his throat was swinging back and forth like crazy, shifting his weight and bending him back.
Until a fist shot past Jhon’s cheek, missing him completely and landing soundly in someone else’s face. That was when he realized it was Hanna standing that close to him, her arm extended past his cheek.
“Excuse me, lover,” she said with a playful purr and a wink, coming just shy of kissing him as she gripped hold of the simian and hauled him right over Jhon’s head.
“Thanks, babe,” he shot back, able to plant his weight now and plan his escape. He almost wanted to stay there a minute and watch the beauty of that sleek sexy body kicking the shit out of the guy she had hold of.
But…
Two other bodies came crashing into the melee. One struck Hanna in the back, sending her sprawling onto the ground in a tackle with her foe lurking large on her back. The second rammed Jhon in his exposed belly, knocking the heartbeat right out of his body.
“Can’t fight back, slave boy, or you go night-night and we have fun with the lady after we tie you up so you can watch.”
The taunt was…unwise.
Between the threat and seeing Hanna go down, Jhon reached a point where a little something clicked over in his brain. All cautions, all acts, and everything not connected to his immediate survival shut down and became nonconsiderations. The warrior burst forward and on the way it melded with that new part of him: the predator, the protector, and the ruthless animal instinct that was pure cat.
Jhon’s fingers opened and flexed, his nails growing in wicked curves. He vocalized as his body crouched inside of itself, a low growl of threat and imminent attack.
“Jhon,” he heard Hanna whisper, her fear a palpable thing. He could taste it on his tongue and it infuriated him. She was his mate! She was cat! She should not fear what they were.
His strength and speed, cat and warrior combined, could not be matched. Hanna watched in a stunned sort of horror and pride as his huge body contorted to free itself, throwing off one man and turning viciously on the other. She saw him grab the man by the neck, heard the little pops as his claws punctured the soft flesh they found. By the time he had ripped out the man’s larynx, she was growling in excited support.
Blood was on the air.
Hanna reached back and raked her pointed nails down her attacker’s face. He drew breath for a scream as he fell away from her, but she never forgot that silence was their only savior at this point. She seized his throat and cut off his air single-handedly, hissing with low fury as she rolled him beneath her body. His eyes were wide with terror at what he saw, the woman upon him whose face flickered between person and vicious cat. He bore witness to her secret…for all of twenty seconds. Then she grabbed hold of his head and broke his neck with a powerful double snap of bone.
She rose into a crouch, her hair whipping hard as she turned her head sharply to find her mate. Hanna wanted to scream when she saw the mass of men beating on him and trying to tear him down, but she knew she had to resist. Instead she satisfied herself with a chilling growl as she rushed into the mix of men. She entered the fight just as Jhon was plowing a fist up under the rib cage of one of the bigger men. Unable to tell his race or the location of organs, he had no specific target. He just grabbed and pulled and used his free hand to punch the guy in the throat so he wouldn’t scream.
His friends were grasping the direness of their situation, however. They were no longer trying to fight, but trying to escape. Hanna and Jhon exchanged looks and they agreed. There could be no survivors. No witnesses. Three were dead, and three would join them. Hanna took the next kill, putting her fist hard enough into his spine to silence him for good. The two remaining started to keen and wail, screeching about monsters and trying to scrabble away on the ground like the rodents they were.
The mated couple pounced on them as one, dispatching them with a slit throat and a broken neck. Hanna then looked at Jhon. Both were breathing hard and splattered with blood. She realized her mate preferred to make his prey bleed, when she could give or take it. He was new to the cat, feeling the fever of it for the first time, so she understood. He was staring at her hard, his eyes shifting over her restlessly, and she knew why. His adrenaline was high; the beast made demands. He smelled the excitement on her through the rusty tang of blood.
But they had six bodies around them, and she had to think of consequences.
Jhon saw her looking around at the carnage, and the haze of his bestial self lifted slightly. He knew her fear. Her worry. He had to make this right for her.
“Hanna,” he said, his voice little more than a rough cough. “Go home.”
“No!” she hissed. “If you get caught you need me to defend you!”
He didn’t want to argue with her. He stripped off his shirt, wiping himself free of as much of the violet-colored blood as he could. Her pants were obviously stained, and his were even worse.
“I have an idea.” She ran two steps and leapt into the Otherside, the cat landing with a graceful soundlessness. Her clothing fell to the ground along with her hair ornaments. He looked into her eyes and immediately knew what she was planning to do.
“Hanna, no! If you get captured or…you could get killed!”
In this crowd?
She had a point. The stampede of people alone would protect her if she was careful. The bodies would be explained away as victims of the wild bellcat that came into town inexplicably…or it would
be blamed on Hanna’s House and her collection of cats.
Acceptable risk.
A tactician’s term. It was the only choice. He quickly gathered up all clothing and evidence of their presence, and found a spare piece of canvas to wrap it up in, tucking it under his arm. They needed to hurry out of there before they were discovered. Jhon moved to one of the splits between the tents and crouched low, waiting as Hanna prepared to run out into the crowd and start a panic that would allow him to run undetected as he blended in with the stampeding people.
She shook herself hard, fluffing out her dark coat to make herself look bigger, then bared her fangs in a wicked smile as she leapt free of the alley. He watched her jump bold as hell onto a display table, a massive roar shuddering out of her. There was total shocked silence for all of a heartbeat, and then pandemonium broke. He waited for a minute, and then bolted into the crowd of runners. Troublemaker that she was, Hanna chased after him and the crowd, getting close enough that he felt her nip playfully at his ankle. Then she reeled and tore off in another direction.
The streets were full of screaming shoppers pouring out of the bazaar. Sentries came hurrying to the source of the panic, leaving the way clear for a bare-chested, blood-smattered slave to sneak his way home from shadow to shadow with no one the wiser.
When Jhon ran into the house looking the way he did, he thought Najir was going to have a medical fit right on the spot. He rapidly explained what had happened and they both rushed to aid in the deception. Jhon burned everything they had worn. Najir dropped a dress over the wall of the enclosure where no guards walked. There wasn’t a need for guards by the enclosure when nine wild bellcats made their home there. Hanna would smell the dress easily then change and put it on so she could simply walk into her home.
16
Vejhon paced for a good hour, his stomach in knots for leaving her, his eye on her brother. If anything happened to her, her brother would shift out of the Otherside. When the door opened and she stepped into the large foyer, Vejhon tackled her right off of her feet, his body nailing hers back against the door and his mouth fastening to hers with ferocity.
