The Way of the Tigress 1-4

by Jade Lee - The Way of the Tigress 1-4

  Again his hands narrowed, the spiral winding tighter, closer, higher. Now she found she didn't inhale so deeply, countering his movements. Instead she exhaled all the way, wanting his touch to rise closer. To touch her nearer.

  She wasn't even sure where she wanted him to go. Her mind was consumed by the fire, by the flow of his hands, stirring the energy around and around. Higher. Hotter.

  What was she straining toward?

  "Seventy-two."

  She didn't say the word. Someone else had. Her Mandarin? His hands had stopped moving, his fingers pressed just to the inside of each tightened nipple.

  But she didn't want him to stop. She wanted more. She wanted to know—

  Why was the Tigress Shi Po standing over her?

  Why does heaven dislike "bravery in firmness'"? Who knows the reason? The way of nature is to win without contending, to reply without speaking, to have things come without calling to plan without worrying... We should take nature as our example and dispense with firmness and contention.

  —Lao Tzu

  Chapter 6

  Zou Tun's body flushed with anger. How dared the Tigress enter his bedroom unannounced? How dared she look at him and Joanna Crane as if they were bad food that even dogs would not touch? And how dared she stand in silence, judging them as she would—

  —a student? Evaluating them as an instructor did her pupils?

  No. Her thoughts were more calculating. More intricate. What was she thinking?

  It did not matter. She would not act so again. Joanna was just coming back to herself, her body still trembling with the power of her yin. And what sweet power it was, burning like a white star such as Zou Tun had never experienced. He reached forward, grabbing the sheet to cover her as quickly as possible. The Tigress had no need to see such beauty. It demeaned Joanna somehow. And Zou Tun greedily wished to keep her for himself, not even sharing her with the woman who claimed to be their teacher. Such were not the thoughts of a holy man, but Zou Tun did not care. He was too angry with Shi Po's intrusion to think straight.

  The Tigress stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. She studied them more thoroughly. No doubt she saw Joanna's flushed cheeks and reddened lips. Zou Tun knew that beneath the sheet, the white woman's hands were tightening into fists. But even more important, she was beginning to curl into herself, drawing tighter against Zou Tun and farther away from the Tigress.

  "Why have you disturbed us?" he demanded, his voice low and hoarse.

  Shi Po stiffened. "It is my right to inspect my students."

  Zou Tun gently shifted from beneath Joanna and firmly stood before the Tigress. She was small in stature, much smaller than he'd expected, given the power of her qi. But he was not intimidated. Instead he did his best to tower over her, making his demands absolutely clear even as he blocked her view of Joanna.

  "I care not what you do with your other students. You will not enter here without our permission. Never again."

  "This is my home," she hissed. "You are my guest."

  "Then accord us the honor of guests and do not walk uninvited into our bedroom."

  Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment he felt the power of her rank. He felt menaced by a tigress. And yet he refused even to blink.

  "There is a great commotion in the barbarian territories. It seems a ghost woman has gone missing."

  Zou Tun heard Joanna shift on the bed, her attention obviously caught. Fortunately she was still mute. Before she could say or do anything, he spoke, doing his best to distract Shi Po.

  "Who can understand what goes on with barbarians?"

  Irritated, Shi Po slipped to his side and stared at Joanna. "Do not toy with me, monk. They are searching for this girl. Why? What evil have you brought to my home?"

  "No evil. But if it frightens you, release me and her. I will see that she is returned to the barbarians."

  On the bed, Joanna nodded, obviously wanting exactly what he offered. But Shi Po did not leap at the suggestion, as he hoped. Instead she reached out, her hand hovering inches above Joanna's breast as if feeling the air there.

  "Her yin runs so clearly. And after only one session." Joanna shrank from Shi Po's sharp fingernails, but could not move away. Instead the ghost woman closed her eyes, fighting mutely as the Tigress gripped her chin, lifting her flushed face to the lamplight spilling in from the hallway. "These barbarians are strange creatures. Perhaps their lack of civilization makes them closer to their elements. Perhaps—"

  Joanna clearly had enough of the inspection. She suddenly jerked her head out of the Tigress's hands, pushing to her feet, sheet still clutched to her chest. Her bearing was regal as any imperial consort's, and with firm steps she made for the open door.

  For a moment Zou Tun almost believed she could make it, that this reddish-haired barbarian woman wrapped in a sheet could walk right out of the Tigress's home without anyone daring to stop her. But someone did dare, and it wasn't Zou Tun or the Tigress. It was Kui Yu, the Tigress's husband, sauntering in.

  "Oh!" he exclaimed, as if he had intended to find the dining room and simply missed. He blinked and focused on his surroundings. "My apologies," he said to Joanna as he blocked the exit. "But my dear, you simply cannot leave like this. Your dress looks like a sheet."

  Joanna pointed to the door, indicating she wanted to leave. Even from the side, Zou Tun could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She had been pushed too far, having lost both her freedom and her voice in less than two days.

  Kui Yu gathered her arms together, holding her hands in his. "I see this often, you know. My wife thinks I don't, but I do. All the new girls are frightened at first, even though they chose this path." He shook his head. "It is a confusing thing, this becoming a Tigress. How much more disturbing for a barbarian with no training in our Taoist ways? Still, I will tell you what I tell all of them."

  He smiled warmly at her, even daring to brush a curl from her face. "You must think about what you are returning to and what you are giving up. Here you will not be mistreated. You will be taught a skill with which to fascinate your husband, keeping him enthralled throughout your life together. You have a chance to become immortal and be revered by all. But most important, you will learn peace, my child. A quietness of the soul that comes from walking the Middle Path." He tilted her chin so that she looked directly at him. "Can your life at home offer you as much?"

  Joanna nodded her head. Yes, she indicated. Her home offered her as much.

  Kui Yu patted her hand. "Ah, that is merely fear talking. In any event, it is too late for you to leave today. There are many dangers in Shanghai at night. Fortunately we have sturdy servants to keep us safe here." So saying, he gestured to the thick-chested brute who stood guard just outside the door. Then he turned back, tweaking Joanna's chin and smiling in a fatherly way. "Think on it tonight and see how you feel in the morning. If you still wish to leave, I will assist you." He extended his hand to his wife. "My heart, the evening shadows grow long, and my thoughts dull without you to lighten my cares. Please leave our guests to their tasks. Even great Tigresses must rest."

  As if pulled by her husband's will, Shi Po glided forward and took Kui Yu's hand. But she didn't leave. Instead she frowned at Joanna, tilting her head slightly. "What is it about these barbarians that makes their yin so strong? It is a puzzle that must be sorted out."

  "Of course," agreed Kui Yu in an affable voice. "But not tonight. It grows late."

  Shi Po nodded, moving with him as if an obedient wife. But her words carried even as she shut the door. "I wish I had seen Ru Shan's pet before they left. Now I have only this ghost to study."

  Then her voice was lost, leaving Zou Tun to watch Joanna fight with the door—first trying to open the lock, then banging on the wood hard enough to make it tremble. It made no difference, of course. He had heard the snick of the bolt after Shi Po left. And even if the door were unlocked, the guard still stood outside. Her struggle was hopeless.

  As was his own.

  He dropped o
n the bed with a sigh, watching until Joanna came to the same realization. She did so slowly, her body weakening, her arm tiring enough to stop pounding on the door. Then, a moment later, she would gather herself together and begin banging again. Twice he watched her go through this process: allowing hopelessness to take hold, her spirit weakening until she gathered herself together again and pounded her small white fist against the door. She was obviously praying someone would finally listen to her.

  But they didn't. Only Zou Tun watched, and in the end he could stand it no more. He stood, gently touching her arms.

  "They will not listen tonight, Joanna. But perhaps Kui Yu will help you tomorrow." It was a lie, for he could not allow it to happen. Even if she could convince Kui Yu to release her, Zou Tun could not allow her to leave. Not while he was bound by Shi Po to remain. It was dangerous enough if the Imperial soldiers found him and dragged him back to his father. It was even worse for everyone if his cousins—his competitors for the throne—discovered him. They would think nothing of razing the entire household.

  Yet she needed something to hold on to, so he murmured that tomorrow would offer new possibilities.

  She didn't want him to touch her. She shook him off many times. But he was persistent. And gentle. And in the end her tears forced her to stop. He watched her crumple and sink down against the doorway. He knew now that she had at last realized her situation. She now accepted that they were both prisoners here and would not be released anytime soon. Up until now she had been playing at understanding, pretending it was a game.

  Now she knew. And her sobs wrenched his heart.

  He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She did not resist, even when he curled his body around her. It was cold at night, even in the southern city of Shanghai. With only a single blanket between them, the shared body heat was welcome.

  And besides, even if she did not need this comfort, he did. He closed his eyes, trying to appreciate his first bed since the burning of the monastery. His body should be glorying in its gentle pillowing instead of the cold, hard ground.

  But he could not enjoy himself. Instead he drew his only pleasure from the soft woman in his arms, the beautiful Joanna Crane, barbarian ghost whose yin had been like molten silver flowing around his soul. It had not been a physical sensation as much as a mental image, but it had persisted the more he purified her yin.

  He was a monk with three years of training—three years of discipline in mind and body, of a slowly quieting soul and a learned willingness to hear the messages of the divine. Yet in that time, he had heard nothing. Not a word. He had found only a peace that calmed him, that invaded his very spirit as no political intrigue ever had.

  But now her. Joanna Crane. Ghost barbarian. Her purity had flowed through him, warmed him, brought him a divine whisper that three years of dedicated study had not. Could it be that this bizarre female sect, this Tigress cult, knew something the ascetic Shaolin monks did not? Could it be that the discipline of Paochui fighting and the study of ancient texts were not enough to attain enlightenment? That exalted understanding required the combined energy of female yin and male yang to catapult one somewhere that his abbott's celibate students had never been?

  He did not want to think it possible. And yet he could not deny that he had felt more than simple lust when purifying Joanna Crane's yin. He had felt the whisper of the divine.

  Which left him in a quandary. He had intended to stay with the Tigress for a few days, a week at most. He had intended to learn what he could from her and then escape. Seven days' respite. Seven days to assuage his conscience with regard to his old master. Seven days to decide how to proceed once he returned to Peking.

  Seven days would have been plenty of time for these tasks. He'd even planned to return Joanna to her home, should circumstances allow. But seven days were not nearly long enough to achieve enlightenment.

  Worse, he knew that pure yin was as rare as a phoenix feather. Certainly none of the women he had known before were close to what he found in Joanna. He had no understanding if all white women flowed as sweetly, but she was the only woman he had access to now. And she could very well be a key to enlightenment.

  None of this made any sense to him: that a female cult could have answers that the Shaolin did not. That a ghost barbarian could lead an imperial prince to enlightenment. And yet fortune came in many disguises. He would be a fool to release something for which many spent a lifetime searching.

  He had to keep her. He had to pursue the Tigress teachings in earnest with Joanna. And yet he had to return to Peking to face his responsibilities there. If she were Chinese, he could marry her and take her wherever he willed. But she was a ghost woman, one of the barbarians who were poisoning his country with opium. He could not marry a ghost woman. Neither could he take her as concubine or even a pet. These things would be considered heinous for a commoner; for an imperial prince, such a crime would not only see him killed, but would likely destroy his entire family.

  No, he could not take Joanna to Peking with him. And so whatever enlightenment he desired, he had to find it now, here in Tigress Shi Po's home. While outside the imperial forces moved ever closer.

  With that unhappy thought, he resolved himself to sleep. The morning would require study such as he had never before known.

  * * *

  Joanna felt warm for the first time in a long while. The sensation was so pleasant that she deliberately kept her eyes closed and her mind blank. She knew something waited, something ugly that would surface the moment she came to full consciousness. So she tried to postpone the inevitable; she concentrated exclusively on the enveloping heat, giving it names and images as she drifted in and out of sleep.

  It was like a hot breeze on a chilly night.

  It was like fuzzy mittens on a winter's day.

  It was like a strong, hot man wrapping her between his powerful thighs.

  She jerked, shocked by her thought. But what brought her to full consciousness was the hideous truth: She was surrounded by hot man. Hot, nearly naked man. And she was nearly naked as well!

  She sat bolt upright, her gasp shooting needles of pain down her throat. And that was when the ugly reality hit, when she remembered everything she hadn't wanted to remember, when she knew where she was and that she'd slept all night with a man.

  His eyes were open as well, but he did not move. He merely watched her, his expression calm, his body tense.

  Joanna opened her mouth to say something, but the pain in her throat prevented it. No, not the pain in her throat. Words did not come because she had no idea what to say. What did one say to a half-dressed man in one's bed? Especially when circumstances prevented one from screaming about damaged virtue and male perversions.

  Of course, her virtue wasn't truly damaged, was it? And as for male perversions, there hadn't been any, had there? She groaned slightly, closing her eyes and trying to sort through the past two days. It had been only two days, hadn't it? She wasn't sure. Maybe three. She had been unconscious for part. Asleep for another. And in between, she had been...

  Her face heated with shame. She'd touched her breasts. She'd let him touch her breasts. And she'd watched him as he touched his... his... what had he called it? His dragon. She'd watched him, and she'd touched and been touched. And she'd hated it.

  Well, not really. She ought to have hated it. In truth, she... well, she didn't know what to think. She counted herself a logical girl. Focused. Scientific, almost. Someone who objectively analyzed situations and came to rational conclusions. And her logical, rational mind told her that she was still cataloging the experiences, learning what she could until she found a means to escape.

  That was all she felt, she decided. Scientific curiosity. And a hedonistic pleasure.

  She dropped her head into her hands with a soft moan—or what would have been a soft moan if she'd had working vocal cords. What really came out was a gurgled rasp. She was thankful the Manchurian spoke before she could work herself into a
true state of hysteria. And his words, amazingly enough, were exactly what she needed to hear.

  "I have a plan," he said. "For escape. But I will have to find the right time."

  Her head jerked up and she focused on his words.

  "It will take me a bit to arrange. But in a week, maybe a little more, we can escape this place." He slowly pushed up from the bed. The blanket dropped away, revealing the large, muscled expanse of his bronze-skinned chest. She blinked, trying to force herself not to stare, but his body was so... so... alive. And close. She could even touch it with her fingers. His naked chest.

  "But you must help me," he continued, as if she weren't staring at his chest. At the way his body tapered down to a tight belly and... Was he wearing pants underneath the blanket? Had she been wrapped in legs covered in fabric? Or had they been naked male legs on her bare flesh? She didn't remember. She was dressed in a robe. Or at least half-dressed. But her robe had bunched, leaving her legs exposed.

  She shook her head. Truly, it made no difference how they had slept! But for some reason she desperately wanted to know.

  "Joanna?"

  She blinked. Then she blinked again, but made herself keep her eyes closed. Looking at him wasn't going to help her understand anything. Well, maybe she'd learn more about male anatomy, but yesterday had brought enough of such lessons. She didn't want to know more. Did she?

  She ruthlessly cut off her thoughts. He was saying something to her. Something important, to which she really wanted to listen. Really. But was he wearing pants?

  Stop it! Just stop it! she ordered herself. Get out of bed. Stop thinking about clothing. Just get on your feet and think.

  She did, though with a reluctance that made her movements clumsy and stupidly slow.

  "There is no need to be alarmed," he said as she finally put her bare feet on the cold wood floor. The shocking temperature steadied her even more, and she was able to scramble backward until she pressed her back against the privacy screen.