Zorroc: Feline Predators of Ganz

by Lil Gibson

  Zorroc shrugged like he had not just taken a major ego hit. "She will co-operate, but she does not plan to make the voyage with us. Her friends intend to help her avoid us when departure approaches. Dee is doubtful we intend to recruit the females, she believes we may just take them."

  "Not so mind-blasted as your mate…what is their plan?" Carpov asked, reaching for his sixth helping.

  "They intend to walk away," he responded dryly. "Just disappear in the midst of hundreds of humans. They believe they all look alike to us. They will travel to Angel's cottage, or actually her mother's cottage, that she never inhabits. They believe, in that way, to avoid discovery. I see no reason to disillusion them until departure time arrives. Everything is well in place. We are ready. And now if you will excuse me, I will go retrieve my mate." Sycor and Prolinc looked crestfallen at the empty plate in front of them before exuding a last belch and requesting the check.

  He showed himself to all three; they had bought into his existence, after all, why not confirm it. "These are your friends are they not, my Cat," Zorroc suggested most charmingly. "I am Zorroc, Cat's future mate, she has spoken of you."

  "I have not!" she sputtered vehemently and jumped up to face him.

  “Did he say ‘mate’?” Angel whispered to Dee.

  "No?" Zorroc replied with a lethal gleam in his eyes. "Then maybe I read your mind," he challenged, facing her down. She had pushed him too far. "We will take all three, Prolinc, transhift," Zorroc messaged, and they vanished.

  Cat awoke in their quarters lying beside Zorroc, who was settled on his side with a hand resting possessively on her stomach. She studied him for a minute wondering what would happen next. "Did you take Dee and Angel too?" she asked tentatively, wondering at his remoteness. His eyes appeared shuttered and an eerie stillness surrounded him.

  "Yes," he replied simply, and continued to observe her.

  The one time she would have preferred hearing a "no". She blinked and licked her lips. His eyes focused on her mouth and followed the movement of her tongue. The blame for the entire situation lay directly with her; she should have never spoken with her friends, never gotten them involved. Now she had to extricate them somehow, although at present she hadn't a clue as to how to go about it. She wondered where they’d been taken. Had they been separated or been allowed to remain together, were they scared or even worse—had they tried to employ self-defense tactics after their disorienting experience? Would the Gattonians hurt them? She'd only known them for a couple of days and had no way of knowing what they might be capable of, if provoked. Would she see her friends again? "You don't intend to keep them here, do you?" she croaked softly, fighting back a sob.

  "That will depend solely on you, for the present," he coolly informed her.

  She began to unravel. Her cat man had disappeared and been replaced by a stranger with all the warmth of a frigid mannequin. Even when she'd first seen him in the parking lot he'd been approachable, touchable and solicitous toward her and had made her feel linked to him in a way that no one had before. Polar opposites from this current remote-controlled Prolinc clone. He had effectively locked himself away from her and his abandonment left her feeling lost and exposed. Deserted. Again. How could she explain and make things right. He'd obviously overheard the conversation at Grumpy's. How had things snowballed so quickly into this avalanche of longing? What spell had he cast that suddenly made her loath a life without him? She shivered, no doubt because of all that snow. His gaze grew warm and softened, almost as if he had read her thoughts and took pity on her. Her eyes filled with tears and her floodgates burst. He eased onto his back, placing her on top of him as his hands moved up and down her body in a slow hypnotic rhythm. He began to whisper into her hair that all would be well, to trust him to take care of everything. Slowly, she regained control of her emotions and relaxed.

  His Catarina had had a rough few days, he mused with a slight smile. He must not forget all that had been thrust on her in such a short time. He would need to make allowances for her occasional rebellious spurts. She had panicked at his withdrawal. He found that decidedly promising. He would use her insecurities and need for affection to bind her to him, and control her through sexual play. Finally, he would break her gently but thoroughly to his will.

  Satisfied he had the situation well in hand, he began to issue his encompassing ultimatums.

  Chapter Four

  "Your friends will be released after I have some assurances from you. I want your word you will come with me to Ganz and will no longer fight me at every turn." And then, lowering his voice to a honey seductive whisper added, "You will admit to me, sweet one, that you are mine and will remain mine."

  He'd returned to the overbearing male now familiar to her; she squirmed, cornered. Out of the frying pan and into the inferno. Now what? Silently she reviewed her options; lie and run if necessary to her sanity; go quietly, relax and enjoy the sex education classes; or go kicking and screaming all the way. She wondered if she could get him to compromise on some of the finer points of his wishes but one look told her he expected that tact. The birdcage had been sealed, barricaded, and the key chip incinerated. Yep, she'd been plucked, cooked and readied for feasting; and he looked as though he'd devoured a flock of canaries with a chaser of cream. She hoped he had indigestion for a month and lowered her lashes, pleased with the image. As she shot him a sideways glance, he looked a little less satisfied. Fine, let him wonder what went on in her active little imagination.

  His Cat had a mean streak; he blinked, surprised to discover the thought did not displease him. A little spunk, he deemed accountably desirable. After all, he wanted to tame her, not curb her natural exuberance. He smiled ruefully, hoping her spunk did not surface to bite him in the ass.

  "Okay."

  Immersed in his thoughts, it took a moment to register her answer. Then he experienced such an uncharacteristic surge of satisfaction and relief, it rendered him temporarily speechless. He shook his head to clear it. "Okay what, Catarina, be specific, I want to be sure of what you are agreeing to," he grated softly, wanting to hear the words.

  Somehow, she had just known he wouldn't accept victory gracefully and drop the subject. Oh, no, he wanted her to grovel and reveal every vulnerable bone in her body. It already hurt. She decided to stall. Maybe she could get him to emit a bead of sweat to signify the teensiest bit of insecurity before her final defeat. Why did he have to lord over everything and everyone, and why did he have to win all the time, didn't he know it was impolite? "What do you want from me, Zorroc, my blood, my body, my soul? I said okay, you get your way," again; she silently amended. "I'll go with you, just let my friends go." Angel and Dee would kill her.

  "Sorry, not good enough, Cat. Continue." Obviously relishing his latest win.

  She groaned, here it came. "I will accompany you willingly, you don’t need to be concerned that I’ll try to avoid you. If you want me, Zorroc, then I am yours," she ended on a subdued note, then ruined the effect by snapping, "Satisfied?"

  "Immensely," he confirmed. Cat rolled her eyes. He gave her an electric smile that lit her insides and charged the air around them. Small consolation, but she guessed it might be worth it. She discovered she enjoyed making him smile. His eyes took on a predatory gleam that threatened to ensnare her. She bolted off the mat, trying for a clean getaway. She had two friends to save. She paused at the foot of the mat to straighten her new one-piece suit-dress, purchased for the Tarot assembly. The emerald green shade exactly matched her eyes, and it hugged her small frame to perfection. It revealed a slight amount of cleavage while showing a lot of leg; emerald spiked heals completed the ensemble. Cat looked up after smoothing down her suit and could tell she was on the menu.

  Zorroc decided the time had arrived for her next lesson.

  "Uh, Zorroc?" she asked breathlessly, as he stalked her.

  "Shh, everything is how it should be, we will begin slowly," he slurred softly as if too transfixed to annunciate properly.

&
nbsp; He put his fingers through her hair and tilted her head to a more accessible angle. She swayed toward him, mesmerized by his husky voice and the determined glint shining through his slumberous eyes. Her women's liquid seeped languidly, dampening her panties. She colored slightly. Zorroc gave her a half smile like he understood, then took, and took her mouth. His tongue invaded her moist cavity and began a dominant rhythm in tandem with the rocking of his hips against her stomach. His hands first caressed her fragile ribcage, thumbs barely grazing her breasts then moved down to cup her buttocks still grinding into her. Her legs gave way. Cat, beyond stunned, felt as if she resided atop a huge tiger, striving for purchase. She began panting heavily, but so did Zorroc. Keeping one hand under her rear, he let the other roam to sweep her waist, firmly cup her breast, then pinch, and squeeze her nipple. She reached overload and collapsed. She would have landed in a heap at her cat man's feet if he had not caught her at the last moment, swept her up into his arms, and gently laid her on the platmat. After a minute or two, she eased her eyes open and looked dazedly at him. "I don't understand, Dee and Angel never said anything about passing out while kissing. Does it happen often?"

  She had short-circuited again, and Zorroc found himself unaccountably pleased that he could affect her so. How could he explain desire and chemistry to her, but even more perplexing, how did he explain it to himself? He had lost control. It had not happened before and with his vast years of sexual expertise, would not have believed he could become so aroused; let alone, by a female virgin who barely knew how to kiss. Waiting silently for his answer, she looked uncertain and vulnerable. He needed to reassure them both.

  He shrugged nonchalantly and tilted his head in his usual manner. "It happens sometimes when chemistry between two people is unusually strong, as it is with us, sweet one. It is just further proof that you belong to me. It will go very well between us when I put myself inside you and make you mine," he finished matter-of-factly.

  The mental picture that popped into her head galvanized her into action. She felt exposed and decided to address the issue of her friends, instead of her libido. "Can we send Dee and Angel home now, I can be ready to go in just a few minutes, no time at all really," she stated, retreating toward the bathroom to regroup.

  He started and she realized that she'd caught him completely off guard by her verbal change of direction. She surprised other people all the time, why was it not the same with him? One more puzzle, she sighed, and concentrated on her rumpled appearance. Her eyes were dilated, her lips, red and slightly swollen and her hair looked like it barely survived a close encounter with a wind tunnel. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Everyone would take one look and know what she and her cat man had been up to. How embarrassing! As she came out of the bathroom, she noticed Zorroc regarding her carefully as if she'd become a complicated matrix he couldn't solve. Could it be he wasn't as confident as he pretended; because if there was one thing she excelled at, it was putting people at ease and making them feel accepted and comfortable. She didn't want him unsure when she held the power to ease him. Smiling brightly, she grabbed his arm; propelled him toward the panel and proceeded to babble all the way to the transhift pad.

  Angel and Dee had obviously arrived well before she and Zorroc because while Angel stared fixedly at Carpov, locked in suspended animation, Dee was advancing on Prolinc, screeching as she went. "How dare you malign me you over-grown, over-bearing, over-egoed, autocratic, furry fathead." Accompanying each adjective with a firm poke of her finger to his chest. Prolinc had frozen into statue mode with no expression at all showing on his chiseled features.

  Time to act. "Well, hi everyone, I see we're all getting to know one another. Communicating with new friends is always so invigorating, don't you agree, Angel? And being polite and respectful are important, as well, when you are a guest in someone else's space ship and about to be transported home, huh Dee," she annunciated loudly toward her friend. Dee blinked twice then looked down at her finger, still planted solidly in Prolinc's chest, and paled. She slowly raised her head to look into his eyes and gingerly lowered her hand, never breaking eye contact.

  What did she think he was going to do, bite her? Hiss at her? Cat glanced at Zorroc to see what he made of the situation and found him block still, as well. Could it be a common Gattonian trait, this popsicle inpersonation? She couldn't figure out if the point involved calming their prey into complacency by not making any sudden moves or a fear that they'd explode into action if they moved one tiny muscle. Then she peered into Zorroc's eyes to discover that it was taking all his considerable control to keep from laughing. Dee stepped back carefully, and asked if everyone was ready to leave, still not taking her gaze from Prolinc's.

  "Well, I'm ready, that's for sure." Cat replied, ready to get her friends to safety. Zorroc fastened his eyes on her and she recognized his intentions before he opened his mouth. When he did, she cut him off exclaiming, "Oh, look at the time, I can't come with you guys, after all, Zorroc and I have a hot date this evening, don't we, sweetums." She beamed in a fake manner managing to both hug and push her friends toward the trans-pad.

  "We will accompany you down." Prolinc told them; the first words out of his mouth since Cat arrived five minutes before. She waved as Angel in Carpov's arms and a subdued Dee in Prolinc's, disappeared.

  "I've known that woman for more than eighteen years and I have never seen her lose control in such a personal, in your face manner. I wonder what he did to her." She tilted her head up and looked quizzically at Zorroc.

  "Prolinc can be overbearing from time to time," Zorroc admitted, eyes dancing. "Over bearing, furry fathead," he quoted, "I thought he would split in two. None of our people would address him so; he is much feared and respected. I have not witnessed anything so amusing in a great while." He began to chuckle. "And I have rarely seen him at such a loss, I think earth females will be very good for Prolinc, you can be very entertaining creatures. Now come, little Cat, I must feed you. When I touched you this afternoon, I noticed you need more weight. You have not been caring for yourself as you should," he remonstrated. Cat groaned, talk about overbearing, furry, fathead.

  * * * *

  The week passed quickly for Cat. She transported down to her job in the mornings, to make final arrangements for the Sci-fi Convention, then spent a few hours at Habi-Cat doing paperwork and playing with her charges. After that, she visited her aunts and scooped up more clothes, then met Zorroc. The aunts concerned her. They’d always been somewhat on the nosy side, interested in her movements and lack of love life. Now she spent each night away from home, clothes for the next day in hand, never returning them, and what was their reaction? Not a peep, not a squeak, not a question. They babbled on just like normal, glad to see her when she came home, and waved goodbye merrily when she left. Maybe her alien friends had some sort of mind-muddle capability; maybe her aunts didn't even realize she wasn't there at night. If Zorroc had done something further to confuse their already less than crisp minds she'd…she'd…well she'd think of something.

  She'd specify her family and friends off limits to the Gattonians or all agreements were off. Thinking of agreements made her think of the nights. She sighed. He held her each night, wrapping her in a cocoon of languid sensuality that stayed with her through the day. He touched her everywhere, controlling her every response, playing her and making her aware of her body for the first time, and then drifted off to sleep leaving her restless and unfulfilled. She happened to know lovemaking entailed more than that. This was the twenty-first century and Angel had done a graphic job of explaining things to her. So, why did he stop? Had he changed his mind about her now that she was no longer a challenge? Maybe, she'd become no more than a toy, and as with all cats, they played hard, devoting it their full attention, then walked away, bored, knowing it would be there when they decided to play again. How did you extricate yourself from a situation that you, yourself, instigated? He probably feared she'd make a scene and cry all over his uniform again. Men ha
ted it when women cried. Maybe that's what changed his mind, after he'd had a chance to think about it. She exhaled a frustrated breath; when it came to the man woman thing, hopeless didn't even begin to cover her ineptitude. Well, she'd see Angel and Dee at Grumpy's the following evening; maybe they could shed some light on the incomprehensible male psyche.

  She was mind-blasting him, he snarled verbally, leaning against a wall a half a block away, waiting for her to notice him. Who could follow her female logic? He knew she had some, he could read it at times, but then her reasoning would take a hard right and lose reality faster than a rodent fleeing a tornika, leaving in its wake the most convoluted scatterbrained muddle he never wanted to mind read. He had discovered she had never been held or touched, even as a child. What could her parents, Rowan and Nancia, have been thinking to leave their child abandoned and needy; every animal needed nurturing, no matter the species. When he saw them next, they would not be at all pleased to see him.

  She obviously had misunderstood his motives for not yet taking her. She needed to learn that to fully appreciate lovemaking, she had to be more attuned to her body, and attuned to his as well. Lovemaking required two equal partners, each responsible for the other's pleasure. He could not have her swooning whenever she approached climax; she would never experience the best part. He had taught her how to be touched; tonight he would show her how to touch him. He had exhausted his self control almost beyond endurance in the last few days, and it would only become worse from here on out. He grunted; she did not even appreciate his sacrifice. Someday he would torture her beyond endurance and then she would understand and be grateful for his selflessness. Imagining how he would accomplish this made his already too tight jeans even tighter. He groaned again and went to claim his disordered little flame.