Her guard allowed her to go. He had no fears she would escape, for they still had her sons. But Kui Yu's guard wasn't so forgiving. Her husband was barred from her side, so she would have to act alone. But she didn't know what she was going to do, anyway, besides step out of the wind.
There were guards huddled inside the second house gate. They gestured with their chins when she asked for Mrs. Kang, and so Shi Po walked slowly into the same room where they had breakfasted the day before. She pushed open the door, careful to move slowly, all the while scrambling for some delicate thing to say to Mrs. Kang. How did one broach the subject of wandering husbands with your captor's wife?
Fortunately, she was spared a decision, because the Kangs could not be interrupted just then. Mrs. Kang, dressed in regal silk, knelt before her husband, offering him tea.
Clearly, this was some ritual for them, otherwise why would Mrs. Kang be dressed so formally? She must have risen in the middle of the night to clothe herself so elaborately. Her gown was draped in intricate folds. She had wooden butterflies entwined in her hair, powder on her face, and a red rouge dot on her lower lip.
Unfortunately, the General did not seem very interested in his wife's elaborate costume. His attention was occupied with a scroll unrolled before him, and he was muttering angrily under his breath.
"The rebels go too far!" he exclaimed as he read further.
His wife waited patiently at his side, teacup in hand, a grimace of bitterness on her face.
Eventually, the General noticed. He looked up from his scroll to see his wife prostrate before him. At least he had the grace to blush, but beyond that he would not give. Without comment, he took hold of the cup and drained it. Then he pushed to his feet.
Only then did he see Shi Po. Only then did he curl his lip in disdain. "Sorceress," he sneered.
She stepped fully into the room and dropped her eyes in deference. "I seek only to speak with your wife, honorable sir. I would..." She hadn't quite figured out exactly what she planned, but it didn't matter.
The General's eyes grew glassy, and he gasped like a fish newly spilled from the nets. There was no stopping what came next, though it happened in a slow scene that would forever be etched on Shi Po's mind: The General raised his finger and pointed directly at her, but no sound came from his throat, no noise except from his slow tumble to the ground. And from the whisper of silk as Mrs. Kang crawled to kneel over her husband.
And still the General focused on Shi Po, believing her to be his murderer.
Then his wife whispered into his ear. "There will be no killing of sons today," she said. "Mine or anyone else's." She held his hand, and smiled sweetly at her husband who finally shifted his focus to her. Indeed, so fixed was his expression that he died with his eyes firmly trained on her smile.
Then came a signal, though Shi Po did not see it. Two servants stepped into the room—peasant women with thick arms and steady legs. They lifted the General between them and carried him out through the back door to the kitchen.
Mrs. Kang pushed to her feet and turned to coldly survey Shi Po. "Why should I spare you?"
She Po scrambled to order her wits. "We are all victims of your husband's madness," she offered lamely. "I have no wish to harm you and did nothing to create this havoc in your life." She paused to study Mrs. Kang, but, the woman's face had hardened even further. Shi Po had to think of something fast. "I have taken care of He Yun for you. She will not trouble you further."
At last, a softening in the woman's face. "I shall make trade with you," she said. "My son for your sons."
Shi Po nodded though she was wary.
"Swear you will serve my son. Swear that you will protect him with your strange powers, that you will see to his future and assist him in all that he does."
Shi Po felt hope spark in her heart. Of course she would support Zou Tun. By all accounts, he was building a Tigress temple. "You will spare us? You will leave my entire family in peace?"
"Yes." Mrs. Kang extended a letter, folded small and written in a woman's elegant hand. "Give this to my son. Say nothing to the soldiers. They will take you to Zou Tun and turn you over to his care. Betray me or my son and there will be no place in China—"
"I will not betray you. My family and I will live with your son, assisting him in his holy work." In truth, it was exactly what she wanted to do.
Mrs. Kang waited a moment, obviously weighing her choices. In the end, she nodded then swept past Shi Po, through the main door and out into the hallway where the soldiers waited.
"The news from Peking is dire," she said to the gathered men. She spoke in a quiet, distressed voice, and appeared to be a tiny, cowed thing. "My husband orders you to Hong Kong to protect my son." She straightened and extended another letter to the captain of the guard. "These are your orders." She turned, her gaze landing hard and bitter on Shi Po. "Now, take these Han dogs out of my home."
"But—," began the captain.
Mrs. Kang whirled, her fury obvious in the tightness of her face. "Do not argue today, Captain," she hissed. "Too much is at stake."
He hesitated, and Shi Po held her breath in fear. If the man asked to speak with the General himself, if he had difficulty reading his supposed orders, if any of a million things made him question...
But he did not. He spun smartly on his heel and grabbed Shi Po's elbow, firmly escorting her away. Moments later, he and his men rode out of the courtyard with a thunder of hooves. Shi Po, Kui Yu, and their two sons went as well—bound as prisoners and treated like thieves, carried along on the tail of a headless monster.
* * *
Dead.
Shi Po repeated the written character twice on Kui Yu's arm that evening. The soldiers were being kind: they had let all four of the Tan family rest together. The boys were huddled close to their parents, tucked one on each side with Shi Po and Kui Yu in the center. All lay on two rough blankets near the horses, but as the children fell asleep they rolled a little ways away, curled into tight balls. That small separation gave Shi Po and Kui Yu a little room to move, but still no way to speak openly. Fortunately, they had their silent language on each other's bodies, and so Shi Po told her husband about General Kang.
Are you sure? came her husband's question.
Wife poisoned him. To save son, she answered.
Silence. She knew he was thinking, knew he was trying to fit this new information into a plan for their survival. He would come up with something, she was sure. But her thoughts were on something else, on Kwan Yin and her message to them.
Or rather, on her question to both of them. What would you give up to have what you most want?
I know, she wrote on Kui Yu's hand. He stilled, and she could see his frown even in the darkness.
"I know what I want, and what I would give up," she whispered.
He twisted slightly so he could see her face.
You, she wrote. I want you. I'll give up everything but the children.
Everything? he responded.
She leaned forward and nodded, pressing her lips to his. He needed to be able to do whatever he had to, and she didn't want him worried about her. They joined in a clinging kiss that opened her heart to him, and when they separated, she whispered into his ear: "I love you." Then she turned, her back spooned tightly against his rising dragon.
He whispered back, the heat of his breath as exciting as his words, "I want you. I love you, too. And I think I know what to do."
She stilled and waited for his explanation. He reached around and wrote the words on her quivering belly: Can you give up everything? Money. Your school. My business.
She nodded. She had already counted those things lost.
Will Zou Tun protect us? If we join him in his monastery?
She nodded again. There was a great deal of work involved in establishing a temple. All hands were welcome, and she had set him on his path.
"It is his monastery," Kui Yu said out loud. You can't lead, he wrote.
"He will l
et me teach," she answered. And in her heart, she knew that would be enough. There was much to do in a school; even more in a monastery. There would be plenty to occupy every one of them. Especially since...
Can you give up your business? she wrote on his hand.
He nodded and slipped his hand lower. He held her hips as his dragon burrowed toward her from behind. "I am becoming very religious," he murmured against her hair.
She shivered in delight at his intrusion, and arched her back enough to allow him to slip inside her. The action was accomplished with a minimum of movement, the smallest of thrusts, and yet she felt as if her world had righted. He was part of her. And she would never release him.
Still, she had to caution him; "The Goddess has been generous to us. Do not assume she will continue—"
"Hush," he whispered into her ear. "I know. I have you and the children. I need nothing else." Then he shifted his hands from her hips, caressing upward until he held her breasts in his hands underneath the blanket. With little movements he pinched and twisted her nipples, bringing her to a panting hunger.
Below, his dragon thrust deeply into her cave, its thickening girth already rubbing against the internal edge of her yin pearl. The tide rose quickly. His yang fire burned hot. This was not practice; it was pleasure. And yet even in this, Shi Po felt the whisper of the divine across her skin, the touch of perfect communion—spirit to spirit.
This was love. And for this, she would endure a thousand hardships, suffer a million pains. They would raise their sons in a monastery on a remote island called Hong Kong. There, they would create a temple with other Immortals. They would discuss and compare, learn and love, with the Empress Dowager's soldiers to protect them and the peace of a monastery in which to practice.
"A good life," she said out loud.
She felt her husband nod in agreement even as his dragon continued to thrust deeper and deeper within her.
"An excellent life," he concurred.
And then there were no more words, for the tide of yin engulfed Shi Po, matched only by the roar of yang. Their joined bodies, the completed circles—it was the magic of two souls in love.
When the silent tumult receded, Shi Po turned in her husband's arms and pressed a kiss to his lips.
"A very excellent life," they said at the very same moment. Then together, they descended into laughter.
The End
Page forward for the final novel in this box-set.
BURNING TIGRESS
The Way of The Tigress
Book Four
Burning Tigress
The Way of The Tigress
Book Four
by
Jade Lee
USA Today Bestselling Author
BURNING TIGRESS
Reviews
"Lee's deft eroticism hasn't lost any of its power. With her latest variant on the Tigress practice, Lee's star continues to burn bright."
~Nina C. Davis, Booklist
"An exotic story of China and the people who believe combining yin and yang in special ways between certain people leads to their visiting Heaven during their oneness, or climax."
~Carolyn Crisher, Romance Reviews Today
For Staci, for no reason except that you're amazing. Thanks for being such a good friend. I'd say something in basketball-speak here, but I always sucked at foreign languages.
Author's Note
The acupressure instructions at the beginning of each chapter are intended for curiosity only. They are taken out of context from a variety of different sources and often shortened for space reasons. Please do not use them as a substitute for qualified medical help.
Each acupressure point is a sensory gateway. When your points are blocked, your senses are not clear, inhibiting your ability to perceive your own feelings, interpret your body's messages, and receive information about the world around you.
Acupressure for Lovers
Michael Reed Gach, Ph.D.
Chapter 1
September 10, 1898
Shanghai, China
Charlotte Wicks dashed down the third-floor hallway after her younger brother. Unfortunately, at sixteen William was much too fast to catch, and with a mental age of about seven he was much too strong-willed to listen.
"William!" she called again as she spun into their Chinese servant's room. She skidded to an abrupt stop as she took in the sight before her.
What a large penis! That's all that she could think. Ken Jin has an immense penis. She made a valiant attempt to divert her thoughts. Why, for example, was Ken Jin kneeling half naked on the floor in the middle of the afternoon? Why were three very large needles embedded in the flesh right above his very large organ? And why couldn't she look up into the man's face?
She didn't ask any of these questions, of course: All were completely inappropriate. Despite the debauchery that ran rampant in Shanghai—and in this very house sometimes—Charlotte wasn't supposed to know about men's organs or what they did with them. Or that Ken Jin had entertained a good number of her friends with his very large penis.
Her brother, of course, had no such restraint. "Mama says not to touch that," he said loudly and pointed at Ken's Jin's dark red erection. "She says you'll go to Hell and burn for eternity with the devil." He frowned. "But she didn't say anything about needles."
Ken Jin didn't respond, except to leap to his feet and hastily drag up his pants. That successfully hid the view, but it probably also drove the needles even deeper into his flesh.
"My goodness," Charlotte breathed, "doesn't that hurt?" She blinked, startled by her own stupid comment. Of course it hurt. Taking hold of her curiosity and her errant brother, she made herself turn away from the blushing Chinaman. Then she addressed her gangly, adolescent sibling.
"You cannot go bursting into people's chambers, William, even if it's a servant's room. It's simply not fair." And who knew what one might see? she added silently. "Come along now. We'll let Ken Jin collect himself and ask him politely to visit us in the library, shall we?"
She tried to lead her brother out, but the boy had been growing again and was larger than she. When William didn't want to leave, she couldn't force him; and right now, William would not be distracted from their father's Chinese First Boy. Truth be told, Charlotte was also intrigued by the handsome young Chinaman. He was desperately intelligent, running her father's extensive business dealings single-handedly while keeping her debauched father and religious mother in opposite corners of the city. With his help, Charlotte was able to keep the house servants in line and manage her rather unusual younger brother. Plus, every one of her friends had commented on how very handsome and skilled he was in a variety of bedroom arts. She couldn't vouch for the latter, of course, but she could attest to his looks.
Ken Jin was tall and muscular, of twenty-eight or twenty-nine years, and had lush black hair pulled back into the most perfect queue. His face was nicely formed, his shoulders were broad, and he had a generous... Well, all his physical attributes were built along generous lines. Still, she had no idea that Chinese men—even young healthy ones—were so largely endowed. Or perhaps, she was simply uninformed. After all, her only real experience with men's organs came from assisting her brother with his bath. Perhaps Ken Jin was normal and her brother abnormal. It would stand to reason.
"You shouldn't scratch there either," William said loudly, doing just that. "It makes it worse."
Ken Jin nodded formally to Charlotte's brother. With his trousers back in place, the only indications of anything untoward were the dark flush to his cheeks and the expanding circle of crimson on his tented pants.
"One of your needles has drawn blood," she said, once again proving that she was an utter failure at keeping her attention fixed where it ought to be—on her brother and not on the bleeding servant. So she tried again. "Come along, William. Ken Jin will join us in the library." Assuming he didn't bleed to death first.
"But Nanny said he would take us to the park," William wheedled.
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Charlotte nodded. "Yes, yes, of course, dearling, but the park is outside, you know, and we can't get there by staying here."
William blinked in his uncomprehending way, then abruptly turned back to Ken Jin. "Why do you have needles in your stomach?" he asked.
Charlotte sighed. Sometimes her brother could fixate on the most inappropriate topics. It didn't help matters that she was desperately curious to know the answer as well.
Ken Jin bowed again, no doubt driving the needles deeper. "It is a form of medicine, Master Will," he responded in his low, smooth voice.
"Yes, William," Charlotte agreed. "A Chinese form of medicine. Now let us—"
"I want to see," William interrupted. Then, to her horror, her nearly six-foot-tall brother lumbered forward, his hands going for Ken Jin's pants.
"That is quite enough!" Charlotte cried in her best disciplinarian voice. William stopped his advance, thank God. "Into the library, young man. Now!"
Another long moment went by as the boy hovered, obviously undecided. Then Ken Jin spoke, his manner extremely pleasant. "I should be happy to take you to the park, Master William, but you must let me don the appropriate shoes."
Charlotte's brother frowned at Ken Jin's bare feet. They were nice feet, Charlotte noticed, and wasn't that an odd thing to think about a servant's feet? But they were nice: The skin was smooth and not hairy, the toes long and well shaped. They were masculine without being a coolie's hoary feet.
"All right," William finally said, spinning on his heel and abruptly dashing out of the room. Charlotte felt her lips curve into a soft smile. Truly, her brother was a sweet boy even if he was sixteen and slow.
She turned back to Ken Jin. "Thank you for your assistance—"
"My shoes," he interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically tight. "Please, Miss Charlotte, let me put on my shoes."
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