CAT SHIFTERS OF AAIDAR: ENDINGS

by Laney Kaye

  “We’re done?” My voice came out scratchy and I winced, hoping it wasn’t because I’d made an idiot of myself by hollering.

  “Your friends is done.” Terra said. “I is not started.”

  Great. Not what I wanted to hear. I cautiously lifted my head from the flat table, glancing around the room. Only Aren and Terra were there. “Where are the others?”

  “They is gone. Is night. Must sleep. Said come back when do next part.”

  Night? Hells, we’d started this procedure first thing in the morning. “Why are you still here, then?” I didn’t mean to be rude, but waking with an aged crone squinting down at my giant ears was more than a little unsettling.

  She huffed, as though exasperated with my stupidity. “Do next part.”

  I put up a hand to halt her, my fingers stiff and aching as though they’d been clenched. “Wait. You said Janie and Herc would be back.”

  “No.” She smiled, and it wasn’t pretty. No shred of humor or compassion reached her ice- blue eyes. “They say be back. Not my fault they sleep.”

  Aren moved closer to the bed, her face drawn, as though she’d not taken the opportunity for rest. “Time is short, Jag. There’s no telling how long it will take for the changes to take effect.”

  “The way I hear it, there’s no way to tell if the changes will take effect.”

  Terra sniggered. “Yes is.”

  Aren’s head snapped up. “There is?”

  “If lives, changes work.”

  As Aren’s eyes closed, I found her hand on the edge of the bed and squeezed it. “Don’t worry. It’ll work. Felidaekin are made to change. I’m tougher than I look.”

  Her smile was crooked. “You look pretty tough to me.”

  “No lowly cat shifter?”

  She ran a gentle fingertip over my ridiculous ears. “Rather, an odd conglomeration. But in here,” her palm pressed against my chest, my heart, “There’s a strength you don’t care to admit.”

  Whatever she was talking about, I’d take it as a compliment. Not that it should matter what she thought of me. She was trading her virginity, regardless. “Okay, Terra, do your worst.”

  “I only do best. For my son.” She passed me a draught. “Drink all. Don’t stop.”

  Gods, the stuff was bitter. Hopefully it’d knock me the hell out.

  She inspected the cup as I dropped my hand to my side, as though she suspected I’d skimp on drinking it. “Good. Now. Blade must wake to spirit of my son. He who loves Aren. You not worthy. Not of spirit, not of Aren.”

  “Terra,” Aren’s voice was firm, and the older woman flashed a look of frustration.

  “I knows it. I also knows what you want, child. You wants to rest. You wants to finish.”

  Hells, yeah, I’d be in all that. The sooner we were done here, the better.

  Aren’s hand covered mine, her thumb stroking my fingers, though her gaze was on Terra. “When will we see changes? Nothing is happening.”

  “Changes not until sleep. Sleep not until spirit transfer.” Terra hefted the dull blade belonging to Aren’s mate. “Give me pair-blade.”

  Aren unstrapped the knife tied to her thigh, and passed it, lorgar hilt first, to Terra.

  Terra pressed both the dull blade and the glowing blue blade together. Then she bound them, wrapping them tight with cord, pressing herbs between each layer. She chanted as she bound, the sound rhythmic, almost lulling. As she lit a bowl of something, dense smoke roiled in the room, the stench bitter, acrid. I coughed, the movement hurting my head. Aren’s fingers tightened on my hand.

  As the smoke cleared, I realized Terra was poised above me, the double-bladed dagger pointed at my heart. “Now, for my son, the blade must slake the bloodthirst.”

  “No!” Aren lurched forward, but it was too late; Terra’s blade slashed deep across my chest.

  I roared with the sudden pain but, before Aren could grab her hand, Terra turned the knife and drove it into her own bicep. Blood spurted as she dragged the knife free, but she made no move to bind the gash. Instead, she pressed the free-flowing wound against my chest. “If you be son, you must have blood of son.”

  I panted, trying to struggle upright, but the pressure Terra exerted was enormous, her other hand raised to hold Aren at bay. Pain ripped through my back like fire. My heels dug into the stretcher, my back bowing as I roared. My skin felt as though it peeled off, every ounce of blood in me draining from the gash in my chest.

  Still Terra held me down.

  As the blackness claimed me, the fear in Aren’s eyes told me she knew death was coming.

  Chapter Four

  Aren

  The pair-blades lay in my hands. Entwined with a cord, like Jag and I were supposed to be entwined in bed.

  Tracin’s—no, Jag’s—blade was cold, while mine held my warmth. And his was gray. As gray as it became the moment Tracin’s soul departed this world.

  It would remain this way until we completed the final part of the pair-blade ceremony.

  Assuming having sex ignited the blades. While I held confidence, Terra did not. She said I could give my body to Jag and have nothing to show for it. After which, he’d shrug and shift to revert back to his original shape. And go on with the life he’d lived before.

  I’d be the only one changed.

  Giving myself to him was worth the cost, though, if it meant I could continue my quest for vengeance.

  Jag stirred on the bed. Our bed for this one night, loaned to us by Maya. She thought we needed privacy, a special place to finish the Dragarian bond. As if we were a couple who ached to make love, instead of two near-strangers thrown together by chance and circumstances beyond our control.

  After Terra finished her part of the ceremony, I’d gone for Herc. He and his crew carried Jag here and left him to my attention, revealing no laughter or raised brows as they departed.

  While they knew this must be done, I appreciated that they didn’t mock or snicker about it.

  Bitter enough I must submit to Jag to provide the final blade-igniting.

  Jag rolled onto his side, mumbling, and I dropped the blades onto the bedside table with a clatter.

  Tracin had been battle-scarred, weathered, but still a warrior in his prime, only ten years older than me. I’d thought his features would look ridiculous on Jag. Strangely enough, his Dragarian ears gave Jag a noble appearance. As did his defined nose, his scaled jawline. And his newly-slanted eyes.

  My eyes were the same shape, like my mother’s. But my oval face, thick hair, and every other part of what made up Ara Smithton—now Aren with no last name—could be attributed to my father.

  My appearance was the only thing that evil man had taken pride in. He’d savored controlling my dress, my jewelry, and how I wore my hair. How I spoke and behaved. He’d kept me on display, not due to pride, but because I was his possession. A thing to be bartered, used to advance his position with the Regime.

  Instead, I escaped with Terra and Tracin.

  The first thing I’d done was chop off my hair—something that would’ve horrified my controlling father.

  As the lead emissary of a patriarchal race, Tracin had suggested we pair-blade bond. Without the bond, I would’ve had to leave the Dragarians and set out into the desert alone.

  “Done?” Jag croaked out, and I sat forward in my chair. His eyes pinned me in place, and he cleared his throat. “Is it over?”

  I nodded.

  He moved on the bed and winced. Perhaps his new spine felt different, since Dragarians—descended from dragons—had rigid, sharp spikes. Groaning, he ran his fingers through his now-white hair, and his chest lifted and fell. “The things I go through for a quick fuck.”

  My lips pursed. I shouldn’t be affronted, because what he said was true. But I couldn’t stop myself from shooting out the words. “Is that all I am to you?”

  He frowned, as if he truly gave thought to my question, but I knew Jag. That was all I’d ever be to him. A momentary bit of pleasure in
a life filled with many women. “How can you be anything else?” he said.

  How indeed? It was better this way. This mission would end with my death. Better we avoided complicating it emotions.

  To think I’d almost welcomed the idea of lying with him. Despite his casual front, I’d seen depths in him over the past weeks. That part of him called to me, whispering that this man had potential.

  Must give self willingly. Terra’s parting advice echoed in my mind. Or blade not ignite.

  Yes, I was willing to do this, but that didn’t stop me from trembling. “I guess…”

  Jag quirked one eyebrow up. “You guess what?”

  I shrugged while my pulse jumped. I should not find a player like Jag sexy. His brawny appearance. His virility. Everything about him messed with my mind. Whenever I was around him, I found it hard to hold onto my detachment.

  “How in all hells are you a virgin, anyway? You bonded with Tracin.”

  “Tracin was unable…” I swallowed back my pain at his loss. He’d been kind to me. Protective. And, while I didn’t love him like I should’ve as my pair-bonded partner, I missed him. Without his pair-bond, I would’ve died alone in the desert. And I was partly responsible for his death. I’d met with the Dragarian contingent in the city, when they first arrived on Glia. I’d brought them to the compound. To my father. To their death. “He was wounded at the compound. He seemed to get better. We thought he’d live, until his wounds started to fester. We did everything we could, but he still passed away a few months after we bonded. But he…couldn’t. You know. We didn’t do it.” Though I’d loved him, I wasn’t entirely sad about this fact.

  “I’ve not been wounded,” Jag said. “So, this time will be different.”

  “As a male elder, Tracin was able to somehow ignite the blade without us having sex, so, yes, this time will be different.”

  My heart flipped, because I wasn’t sure I wanted a different outcome. I’d have to hold myself back, lie there and let him do it. Not get involved, because I couldn’t afford emotions.

  I’d be foolish to give my soul to this man. Not when I was about to lose it.

  “To ignite the blades, your seed must meet the well of the Keeper,” I said.

  “And you’re the Keeper, I take it? Sounds like a hot date.” He grimaced. “Not. And I assume you need to be into it, too?”

  “Not sure I need to enjoy it.”

  “I want you to,” Jag said in a husky voice, his gaze traveling down my front.

  I still wore the ceremonial gown Terra had insisted on, one that revealed the center of my chest down to my navel. Standing, I dropped the silky robes, like I was prepared to sacrifice myself to a greater cause.

  I wore nothing underneath.

  Jag’s sharp inhalation was followed by a growing heat in his eyes.

  I’d be flattered if I thought his response meant something special. But, in many ways, this was no different than what Smithton had intended. I’d trade my body for an end result.

  Jag tossed back the blanket, and I stepped aside when he stood. He shucked his clothing fast, almost as if he drowned in a fever.

  I gasped when he straightened before me. I’d seen naked men before, but never one so muscular. So male.

  I knew the mechanics of all this, but how in hells would he get that thing inside me?

  “Lie down,” he said firmly, as his cock twitched and grew longer. Broader.

  Trepidation pounding inside me like a wild thing that ached to flee, I lowered myself onto the bed, shifting around to lie on my back. In this position, I was exposed fully to his view from my head to my toes.

  “You and Tracin…”

  “He didn’t,” I said. “As I told you, the blades were satisfied without it.”

  His brow narrowed as his gaze traced from my breasts to the juncture of my thighs. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

  I colored, because, no. A mouth down there? I couldn’t imagine how that would feel.

  Jag must be able to read my expression. “You really are a virgin, aren’t you?”

  He sounded so cocky. As if he took pride in being the one to break this.

  Break me.

  I could bear it. Allow his body to press inside me. To touch me where no other man had touched before.

  “Just get it over with,” I said, my voice breathy. I attributed this to the cold room. Jag’s almost clinical detachment. Not to the fact that my body was melting.

  “Anything you say.” Jag’s chuckle heightened the melty feeling, like warm beejus slid down my spine.

  Despite my determination to endure this, my pulse jumped. Fire swirled in my belly and dove lower.

  He dimmed the lights and crossed the room again to stand beside the bed, his footfalls soft on the stone floor, his breath coming faster.

  Climbing over me, he braced himself on his hands and knees, then lowered his full weight down on top of my body.

  Electricity arced through me, and I shuddered as if struck. My eyes sprang open.

  My gasp melded with his groan.

  “Fuck.” He leapt up and off me as if burned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said as he paced the small room. “This is not fuckin’ possible. Jags don’t have bondmates.”

  Like Herc and Maya, Leo and Janie, and Lyrie and Khal?

  No! This man, this Aaidarian shifter, this player thought I was his chosen one?

  “We’ve touched before, haven’t we? Hells, we did earlier, while your witch was rearranging my body to fit that of her son. There was no damn kick then, was there?”

  “We did. And there wasn’t.” I wasn’t sure we’d had physical contact before then, however, but I hadn’t exactly been paying attention to tiny details like that when I was trying to rescue my people.

  “The drugs. Damn things must’ve muted or blocked the first bond.” He tipped his head back and shouted at the ceiling, “Fuck.”

  “It was caused by static,” I insisted. “From the floor. Your movement. We didn’t…It’s not possible.”

  “Sure as hells felt like the first part of a bondmating to me. I don’t…I didn’t…”

  “Want me?”

  “Want this.” He raked his thick white hair off his face. “I do want you.”

  Something I could cling to, I supposed, if I was the clinging kind.

  I never had been.

  “Try again,” I said. “We’ll prove it was nothing.” Then he could do whatever he needed to do and leave me alone for the rest of the night.

  Concern curled through his voice. “Not sure I want to.”

  “Do it,” I shouted.

  He prowled closer, and I could feel his gaze cutting into me through the night. Heavy, almost like a caress.

  More fire rushed through me, making me wonder if I’d be able to lie here and withhold my response to his touch.

  When he dropped down beside me, an unwelcome jolt of electricity ran through me again, like I’d stepped on a live wire.

  “Fuck,” he grated out. “This…can’t be happening. “He lowered his weight on top of me, covering me with his warmth and arousal. His spicy scent overwhelmed me. Groaning, he rubbed his cock on my thigh. “You’re…We’re…”

  “Do not say bonded.”

  “I’m not. I don’t…hells. We’re not bonding.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to bond with you, only ignite the blades.” I squirmed beneath him. I needed space, time to process this. Days to reconstruct my walls. “Just fuck me, and we can leave for the compound.”

  He chuckled. “We don’t have twenty-four hours to complete the Felidaekin bond, thank the gods, so it’s not gonna happen.” His relaxed face suggested he was relieved we didn’t have time for more. Or that I only wanted physical—not emotional—contact with him. “I…shit, I can resist this.” He growled. “But I promise, no matter what, you’ll be completely satisfied. Those blades are sure as all hells going to ignite before we’re through.”

  “I don’t need to orgasm. You do.” I huf
fed out my frustration, because this was a duty. A chore. Not something we both would savor.

  “That’s not how I see it. I think you need at least one orgasm tonight. Two or three would be better.” Jag’s lips trailed from my temple to my jawline, where he nibbled all the way back to my ear. He sucked in the lobe and ran his tongue across the edge.

  While my mouth might shout I did not want this, my breathing sped up. As he kissed my neck, I fought the overwhelming feelings growing inside me. An aching need for this to be more.

  His fingers skimmed down my side then slid around to my chest. He cupped my breast, and when he stroked his thumb across my nipple, I moaned and thrust my upper body off the bed. Seeking…

  “Yes,” he said, as if bestowing a reward. “Let’s see if I can make you scream.”

  Janie had talked about shifter bonds, in a heady, bespelled manner, as if everyone with a sound mind would seek one.

  So, when Jag’s mouth reached to capture mine, I turned my face away. “Don’t. Do not start the second bond.”

  “You’re right. Sorry. If we don’t kiss, we don’t take this further.”

  I ground my teeth, even while my pulse fluttered. “We are not destined.”

  “No argument here.”

  “Then we won’t do anything more than what we need to.”

  “Nope,” he said confidently. “But I’ll be glad to take care of that little issue for you.”

  “I’ll give you my body tonight to ignite the blades,” I said. “But you won’t ask for anything else.”

  “Hells, no. You have my promise.” His fingertips tickled down my side. “Now let’s see what we can do to ignite you. To ignite our blades.”

  A quick glance told me Tracin’s—no, Jag’s—blade remained gray. I didn’t even need to touch it to know it was cold.

  “Do they have to be a part of this?” Jag asked, following my gaze. “Like, lying here in bed with us? Doing…something?”

  “Of course not. They’re linked to us already. If…”

  “I come.”

  I groaned. “Yes, if you come. Then the blades will ignite.”

  “But we won’t be bonded.”

  Why did he sound grateful about that? “Only in the Dragarian way,” I said. I’d never consent to anything further.