by Dara Joy
He held out his hand to her.
She took it.
Slowly he walked behind her, lifting the fall of her hair to place his lips against her nape. He unclasped her caftan, watching it slide down her body.
Lifting her in his arms, he stepped into the pool with her.
His fathomless eyes reflected the room’s flames as he watched her, examining each of her features silently.
“What do I do, Gian?” she whispered.
He smiled slightly. “Incarnation is spontaneous and intimate. There are nine tiers; I will lead you through them to direct your energies.”
Her hand cupped his strong face. “Then I trust you to do so, my taj.”
He sucked in his breath at the simple words that said so much. She had called him her king and in so doing had acknowledged not only who he was, but who he was to her.
He turned his face to place a scorching kiss in the center of her palm.
“I have not made my ultimate decision yet,” she said hoarsely.
“Yes, you have.”
He lowered her until she stood in front of him. Scooping up a handful of water, he watched the scented stream trickle over her full breasts. The gentle bubbling of the water in the pool soothed as it stimulated.
Jenise listened to the filaments chime, a light echoing sound which seemed to overlie the wondrous scent of tasmin and krinang. Tasmin from the floating blossoms, krinang from Gian. From outside, she could hear the jungle calls of animals.
“M’yan,” he whispered. “It speaks to us even now.” He ladled more soft water over her skin. “Once it is in your blood, it will never leave you, Creamcat.”
Like him.
Her lids fluttered closed at the heady sensations washing over her, not the least of which was his skimming touch. Barely there. Yet unmistakable.
She swayed in the water as he poured the scented liquid into her hair, infusing the strands with wet warmth.
Smoothly, he dipped into the water before her, tossing his hair back when his head broke the surface. His fingers clasped her waist under the surface, bringing her closer to him.
Once more he dipped under the water. Soon, she felt the lick of his tongue on the curved rim of her navel. A warm flick surrounded by the cooler, lapping water.
A small sound issued from her lips.
{Which laps you better…me or the water?}
His voice purred in her mind as she felt another hot lick further down between her legs. Her fingers clutched his shoulders. Him or the water? It was not even close.
He broke free of the surface and gazed up at her, droplets of water dancing on his thick black lashes, catching the flames in the room. He smiled slowly at her. Too sexual to be sweet, she knew.
He shook his head, flinging a spray of droplets on her and laughing in a low tone when she jumped back.
His arm snagged her around her waist, bringing her wet, heated body in contact with his. He dipped his head to brush her lips in a satin caress. Light touches of water. Light touches of Gian’s lips. Light touches of burning skin. All designed to tantalize and provoke.
She murmured something incoherent as she lightly nipped his chin.
He lifted her out of the water. Stood with her in the center of the pool, letting the fragrant water sheet off them before he carried her to the plump cushions on the floor. There he carefully placed her as if she were on an altar for him.
He blew on her body, the barest warm breeze, from her shoulders to her toes. His heated breath evaporated the clinging water droplets. Her skin tingled everywhere his breath touched.
“Gian—” She placed her palms against his upper chest, feeling the satin texture of his skin. “Hold me…” Gently, yet decidedly, he removed her hands from him, placing them by her sides. He did not want her touching him yet.
Taking a vial of krinang oil, he warmed it in his palms.
Pouring small amounts into his hands, he massaged the oil into her body with long, firm strokes. Everywhere his hands passed, her body rose to meet his touch. So he touched every part of her body with his moistened fingertips—from the curve of her lips to the curl of her foot.
The oil on her skin glistened in the light of the tiny flames. Gian’s eyes glistened as well, embers of Familiar desire that Jenise recognized.
He reached over to a bowl of gharta fruit, carefully slicing the spiny exterior until the pink flesh within was revealed.
“Close your eyes, Creamcat,” he murmured. Cutting a segment off, he took the succulent fruit and rubbed it along her lower lip, letting the juices trickle into her mouth.
“Mmmm…” She swallowed the sweet juice.
Gian leaned over her, his long hair brushing her breasts. Slowly, he licked the sticky-sweet residue from her lips. Jenise shivered.
He sat back on his haunches and as she opened her eyes, he placed one large palm on her heart, the other on her lower abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. He matched his breathing to hers.
Taking her hands, he placed one on his heart, the other low on his abdomen. She could feel their breath. Syncopated. Harmonized.
He watched her, observed her features, the tiniest nuances in her expression. His glance as potent as a touch.
Jenise knew what he was doing then. He was leading her into the Incarnation slowly, heightening all of her senses for him. Unfortunately, she did not possess as many senses as a Familiar woman. “I wish I had more to give you.”
“I embrace that which you offer, Jenise, for it is my intention to gift you with the identical experience enjoyed by Familiar women, utilizing only the five senses you possess.”
If she hadn’t already adored him, these words alone would have done it. And there was that beloved feline arrogance of his! Her lips twitched as she teased him. “You are very confident that you can.”
He shrugged disarmingly. “Of course. In fact, I am of the opinion that with my superior methods, your experience will surpass any other.” He gave her a sexy wink.
“Your best trait is your humbleness, Guardian of the Mist.”
He laughed, enjoying the sexual banter. He kissed her. A full, deep contact with his mouth. Then he sipped delicately at her upper lip, gently suckling on it.
And the bottom lip as well.
The tip of his tongue teased at the seam of her mouth, begging entrance. Jenise drew it inside, suckling on him. Gian held her close; he purred against her, stimulating her auditory sense as he rubbed and nuzzled, felinelike and playful.
In the same playful manner, he explored her with his mouth from head to toe—the soles of her feet, the rim of her navel, the crease behind her knee all knew the press of his velvet lips.
Their breathing became deeper.
He began the first tier of the ceremony by penetrating her deeply as she lay beneath him. He was dominant yet tender to her, the combination of his strength and sensitivity his true power. The depth of his strokes varied with the pace of his thrusts as he followed the ancient incremental pattern of eight shallow, one deep. Jenise was stunned by the highly stimulating movements.
He seamlessly brought her to the second tier. Seven thrusts shallow, two deep.
That was when he began to shift her position, as if performing the steps of an intricate, well-learned dance. In front of him. Over him. To the side of him.
By the time he reached the third tier, Jenise knew that the coming night would be more than she had imagined. The Incarnation picked up pace and rhythm, acquiring an almost trancelike quality. No matter how he tried to control his passion, with each tier, Gian was getting wilder.
He bit her shoulder and placed her under him so that she lay on her stomach. Sliding over her, he entered her from above and behind. “Raise your hips for me,” he purred coaxingly in her ear. When she did; he bit the back of her nape.
Then he showed her how to move her body; how to open her inner muscles for him. He became hissing cat and sensual man; purring feline and demanding lover.
He was still.<
br />
He moved.
He captured her warmth.
He showered her with undulant waves.
He surrendered himself to the passion that he unleashed in her. Wild. Free. He rode the crest of her waves, holding back and yet not holding back.
Jenise wrapped him to her, held him, loved him.
But most important, she let him be Familiar.
She did not shrink from his feral thrusts, his untamed responses, his wild passion cries.
By the time he reached the sixth tier, she could not catch her breath. When he had spoken of the Nine Hundred Strokes to Love she thought he had been speaking figuratively. Now she was not so sure. What if she could not go on?
His white teeth grazed her throat and she forgot everything but his flawless touch.
By the seventh tier, she knew she was his to take. In whatever way he wanted.
As she tried to regain her own pacing by turning over onto her back, he sat on his knees before her, raising her legs to his shoulders. He clasped her ankles firmly, nipping the undersides of her heels as he pulled her up onto his lap and penetrated her fully. She cried out at the exquisite sensation.
Then screamed at the vibrational enhancement that followed.
“Gian! Gian, please!” she begged him.
He lightened his touch then, hearing her in his passion haze.
The palm of his hand came down flat on her feminine core even as he moved within her. He nudged the heel of his hand in on her and pressed sharply, sending her over the edge. As he had countless times already since he had started.
However, at this stage, the rapid vibrations of her release were a danger to him. During Incarnation, it was crucial that the male not achieve his own release until he reached the ninth level.
Growling something indecipherable, he placed her fingertip firmly beneath his manhood. “Press,” he commanded.
Shocked, she stared mutely at him.
{It will allow me to experience the pleasure without release, taja.} She did as he asked. He threw back his mane of hair and groaned long and low in his throat.
Withdrawing from her and placing his hand beneath her hips, he raised her to him. Then he loved her with his mouth. Jenise began sobbing. It was too much!
Gian was trying desperately to hold back, but he was in the grips of a ritualistic feral mating. He changed their positions. Lying on his side while enjoined to her, he tried to stop for a moment—an unheard-of thing for a Familiar man to do in the midst of Incarnation.
“You must surrender yourself to each moment, taja,” he said brokenly. “Each touch…each breath…it is the only way…”
She nodded shakily.
His thrusts continued in the incremental pattern. Now his special enhancements strummed in syncopated pulse. It occurred to Jenise that the legendary enhancer of the Familiars was so much more than a simple sexual augmentation. While they occasionally used the technique to magnify pleasure, she now knew that the ability was intricately connected to this ritual of Incarnation.
When he reached the eighth tier, she knew he was holding back for her. Beads of moisture dotted his forehead, his beautiful dual-colored eyes were passion-glazed, his hands shook. “I must stop for your sake,” he croaked. “I—”
A strong tremor rocked his body. And hers. He groaned in pain.
He cannot stop the Incarnation, she realized. He would not survive it.
“No!” Weak as she was from the wild lovemaking, she clutched him to her, refusing to let him stop. She was not a Familiar woman, but she was a woman who could fight for what she loved! She knew the strength was in her. She would show this Familiar the power of a woman’s heart.
“No, Gian! I want you to continue! Do you hear me? I will not let you stop!”
A burst of energy and longing seized her with her resolve.
She rolled with him, bringing him beneath her. He grabbed her hips, bringing her flush against him as he surged up into her with a dynamic penetration. Her hands rested on his chest as she leaned over him, moving her hips, showing him that she was a match for any Familiar woman!
Gian’s eyes narrowed in approval as he watched her.
A soughing purr rolled from his chest.
There was only a moment to wonder if the cat in him had been testing her all along…
With a mighty effort, his arms encircled her and he sat up with her in his lap. Still pulsing within her. Not getting weaker but stronger and stronger.
With their arms around each other, holding each other tightly, he sharply nipped her shoulder, using the Sting of Honey bite. A highly provocative and skilled maneuver designed to elevate sexual fervor.
It worked.
Jenise cried out, losing herself in the expertise of his lips, hands, teeth, and strokes.
He entered into the ninth level.
Nine sharp pulses of enhancement.
Nine strokes, all deep.
Jenise moaned into his mouth. He hissed into her throat.
Photons of light began to circle him, rising from his core, pulsing and glowing with his movements as the sexual energy between them rose higher and higher into something new.
Her feminine strength seemed to be lifting within her. A glow lit his form, blinking on and off as parts of him throbbed, humming as if he were in the process of metamorphosing. Only he was not transforming… Something else was happening.
Pulses were skittering along her; she looked down at her own arms, shocked to see the glow around them as well!
He took her mouth in a blazing kiss. Uttering a fierce yell, he opened himself entirely to her, releasing everything to her. Surrendering his strength, his power, his love.
Both of them cried out at the sheer beauty of the moment.
Holding each other fast.
As the spasms and pulsations went on and on.
Until finally they sagged against each other, heads resting on each other’s shoulders.
Jenise blinked. She had done it! She had brought Gian through his Incarnation! And she was not a Familiar woman. She cuddled her cheek against his shoulder in a loving gesture as she tried to regain her breath.
A small tickle itched in the palm of her hand, trying to get her attention. Uncurling her fingers, she gasped as a tiny yellow sphere of light rose upward.
“Look, Gian,” she whispered in awe.
Spent, still breathing raggedly himself, Guardian of the Mist gazed up at the free-floating ball of light. Sudden moisture filled his green and gold eyes; an expression of unbound happiness lit his handsome features.
“What is it, Gian?” she uttered softly, awed by what she was seeing as well as what they had recently done together. They were still intimately joined.
The tiny light bounced over Gian, almost lovingly, before darting around her. “It is our son, taja.”
Jenise gasped. “Our son?”
“Yes, and he is Familiar!” His face glowed with pride.
Gian held out his palm and the little light flitted to rest on the surface of his palm. “Will you take him, Jenise?” he asked reverently.
Jenise was stunned. Familiar procreation was much different than Frensi. While she hesitated out of shock, the tiny light began to fade. “What is happening to it?” she cried, alarmed. “Why is he fading?”
When Gian spoke, his tone was sorrowful. “You have not accepted him. I understand that it is too soon—”
“I do accept him!” she called out urgently, afraid that with her ignorance of Familiar ways she had somehow harmed their child. She had not thought to have a child, but now that he was here…well, that was different!
Gian gave her such a look of love that Jenise knew she would never forget it. Cupping the tiny light, he solemnly placed his palm over her lower belly. With a strange ZIP! the light was gone.
“Where did it go?” she gasped.
Gian chuckled at her expression. “In you, taja. His physical body came to being within you this eve, but it is the spirit we created together that gives hi
m his true life.”
Her hand covered her stomach, hardly believing that their child was now residing there. Gian’s child. Her eyes filled with tears. “Did you know of this before we started?”
He shook his head. “I knew there was a possibility, but that was all. A Familiar man can only bestow such a gift during Incarnation, but even then the energies must be exactly right for conception to occur. Although I had the ability to prevent it, Jenise, I could not bring myself to. So rare will be the opportunity for us…” He brought her hand to his mouth. “I decided it would be your choice.”
Her fingers brushed his lips. “Decided it was my choice, hmmm?” The never-ending subtlety of the Familiar.
His eyes sparkled at her. “I see you begin to understand us.”
She laughed. “Hardly.”
“Good. I prefer to remain a surprise to you, my Creamcat.” He grinned engagingly at her.
For the first time she noticed he appeared more vibrant and somewhat more youthful. Her strength had given this to him. A feeling of power rose up in her. “The Tan-Shi Mother was right then.”
“What did she say?”
Jenise gave him a coy look as she ran her little finger lightly over the small second line that had appeared on his upper inner thigh. “Never mind, Guardian of the Mist, you have gotten me into quite enough trouble for one day.”
He laughed, hugging her to him. “Ah, but I have lifetimes of trouble for you.”
She smiled against his throat. “Yes, I believe you do.”
He purred huskily.
Chapter Seventeen
Lorgin sat on the grassy knoll, bouncing his infant daughter on his knee. His father, Krue, scrutinized his every move as if he were about to commit an unspeakable blunder in the care of his daughter.
Lorgin sighed mournfully.
When it came to his first nearchild Krue was worse than…well, he was just worse! Who could have guessed that such a fierce warrior would get so overtaken by a mere babe?
Lorgin cocked his blond head to the side and stared at his daughter as if he were trying to see what strange command the tiny thing wielded. She gazed up at him with her enormous amethyst eyes and gave him a foolish little grin.
