CAT SHIFTERS OF AAIDAR: ENDINGS

by Laney Kaye

  I tugged on the pants she handed me from my bag and took a step toward her. There was no way I was leaving our second Felidaekin bond at a single kiss.

  The sound of a pulsar laser ripped across my ears a nanosecond before the pain exploded in my side.

  Aren lurched toward me, her face white.

  “Fuck, no,” Herc bellowed, running from the gates, his beloved Teyraus raised and aimed behind me.

  I whirled to face our attacker.

  Except I couldn’t move.

  My spine didn’t work.

  My face plowed into the sand. I was drowning in it, unable to twist aside.

  Aren skidded to her knees alongside me, lifting my head to cradle in her lap. I gazed up at her, though darkness crowded the edges of my vision. I tried to catch my breath, to draw it into lungs that screamed in agony.

  Because I needed to speak.

  I needed to tell her that I loved her.

  Before I died.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aren

  Someone lifted me up and away from Jag.

  “My son,” a tall, dark-haired man shouted. “Let me at my son!” He slammed to his knees beside Jag and ran his fingers across my mate’s forehead. Smoothed back his dark, unruly hair. Then gaped in horror at his mortal wound.

  When the man looked up, his blue eyes met mine—cerulean blue, like Jag’s.

  “Medic,” he cried out hoarsely, staring past me blindly. “Oh, gods, get a medic!” He pressed his palms against the gaping laceration in Jag’s side, as if he could close the wound with his will alone. “Jag. Son. Hold on. Help’s coming. Can you shift? Please. Shift!”

  Jag’s chest heaved, and blood spurted from his mouth when he coughed. He didn’t open his eyes, even when I screamed his name.

  There would be no shifting to heal.

  Hurt too badly, he was dying.

  My knees gave way, and I collapsed on the sand. I couldn’t take it.

  Why had I waited to tell him I needed to be with him always? Now that our time had run out, I ached to recapture each second. Then I could tell him I wanted our full bond.

  That I loved him.

  Insidious cold crept into my hand, numbing my fingers.

  My blade. I finally understood what Terra had tried to tell me. It called—but for the love of Jag, not Tracin.

  I pulled Jag’s blade from its sheath. It gleamed pale blue, nearly white, as if Jag’s essence had already departed.

  He lay unmoving in the sand, while his father mourned.

  The knife slipped from my limp fingers, thudding on the ground beside me.

  I couldn’t…watch him die. I had to get away, run.

  Stumbling to my feet, I took off. Not through the open gate where my people waited, but along the fence encircling the main compound. My footsteps heavy and dragging, my spirit turned dark and anguished and gray.

  Blood. There was blood everywhere. Shots pinged around me, but I didn’t care.

  Moans. Shrieks of pain. And feverish whispers, as people bargained with their gods before the end claimed them.

  Eventually, I reached the end of the fence, my lungs aflame, my eyes burning, as dull red stained the morning.

  Tears streamed down my face, and I shoved them aside.

  Jag was dying, but he would not go alone.

  My purpose renewed, I ran faster, darting around men and women lying in the sand, some screaming, some eerily silent.

  I flew out into the desert, continuing until my legs would no longer carry me. Hardened by my life over the last two years, I could run for hours.

  Sweat soaked through my clothing, my breath wheezed from my throat, and my heart pounded louder than a funeral drum in my ears.

  Dropping to my knees, I pulled my blade. My eyes awash, I could barely see, but it somehow remained blue.

  How could it be blue when Jag’s was bone white?

  Lifting the blade, I thrust it toward my chest, pressing hard enough to prick my skin. A rivulet of blood slid down my belly. Rich and red and sucking away my life, like Jag’s.

  I’d thought I’d be able to escape a blood-blade thirsting, that I’d be able to steal a future filled with love, but fate yanked away everything that mattered.

  Oh, gods, why? We’d finally been given our chance, only to have it snatched away.

  Jag, my blade called. Stronger than it had ever been before, even after Tracin passed in my arms.

  Did the call mean my mate had left this world already?

  No. Please, no.

  I tightened my grip on my knife, took a deep breath, and lifted my gaze to the sky.

  “It will be over soon, my love,” I whispered. “And we’ll finally be together.”

  “Ah, Ari, no,” Terra said, stooping beside me, her chest heaving. She gasped, floundering to catch her breath, and spit out, “This not…be the way.”

  “He’s dead,” I screamed. “Oh, gods, Jag! My blade. It thirsts for him so much.” A hunger like I’d never known, even starving in the desert.

  She yanked my blade from my chest with more strength than a frail, elderly woman should possess. “No, Ari. Bond not over.”

  “He’s dying. Like Tracin. But I won’t escape this thirsting.”

  “You not bonded to Tracin.”

  I shook my head. “We were bonded.”

  “You never truly thirst for Tracin. Otherwise, you give in. Thirsting comes from here,”—she tapped her chest, then her fingertip moved to her temple—“Not here.” Her solemn gaze met mine, bloodshot, lined with creases of sorrow. “But pair-blade bond with Jag be in here, yes?” Her fingers lingered over her heart.

  “That’s why it’s calling to me now. Because he’s dead.”

  “Is not call for thirsting but for bonding.”

  My hand trembled on my knife. “What do you mean?”

  “You feel call of blade since bonding ceremony. Grown strong, all time.”

  I shook my head. “That was my thirsting for Tracin.”

  She pressed her knuckles directly over my heart, hard enough I winced. “You never fully understand. Thirsting not come from blade. It symbol of love. This why I able to satisfy Tracin’s blade.”

  “You don’t make any sense.”

  “Blade not call for sacrifice. Heart call. Tracin love you. This why his blade quicken for you.”

  No. He’d done a spell, made it turn blue. “He bonded with me to protect me.”

  “Part bonded, hoping for love.”

  “I did love Tracin.”

  “As should. But as friend. Not as lover. This why I able use Tracin’s blade on Smithton. I mother. Special bond.”

  “You didn’t use Tracin’s blade. You used a different one. I saw it.” Where had she gotten it?

  “Is Tracin’s.”

  “But—”

  “You pair-blade bonded with Jag.”

  “Wait. You used a different knife that night, when you made Jag’s alterations? Not Tracin’s?”

  Her lips curled up, and she tapped my arm. “Finally. You be understanding.”

  “How is this possible? You gave him your blood.”

  “Is only way make him look Dragarian.”

  “But there’s no dragonstone on Glia.”

  “You think men take all?” Her spine tightened. “Women be Keepers. There be enough stone left here for you, child.”

  “But our blades quickened.”

  She cackled, revealing a toothless smile. “As they should when two who love come together.”

  This was why Tracin’s thirsting call had faded. I had never loved him the way he loved me. Our bonding hadn’t been completed. But now, my blade…No, our blades—mine and Jag’s blades—they called. But not for death.

  For love.

  “You deserve be happy. Tell Jag of feelings. Life steal, not just give. And love worth everything.”

  “But he’s—”

  “Aren,” someone murmured softly behind me.

  That voice. It stole my breath. Made m
y pulse race.

  Was I dreaming? I didn’t dare turn. Not even when he placed his hand on my shoulder, because I wanted to believe, more than anything.

  Terra rose. After giving me a soft smile, she grinned at the man standing behind me, then walked slowly toward the Resistance stronghold.

  Jag dropped to his knees and, his hands gentle on my arms, turned me.

  I fell into his embrace, sobbing.

  He held me. Rocked me. Whispered that everything was going to be okay. But I couldn’t see past the image of him falling. His wound. All that blood.

  My gaping loss.

  Until he kissed me, his lips tender, seeking. Giving. His fingers threaded through my hair, then slid down my back, pulling me fully against him.

  My heart lit on fire as he wrapped me in his warmth, and I clung to his shoulders, answering his need.

  Leaning back, he kissed my forehead. “I was scared when I found you gone.”

  I stared at him, memorizing his features. “You were dying.”

  His soft smile sent hope and love through me and felt sweeter than beejus on a summer’s day. “It’ll take more than a puny laser shot to take down this jaguar.”

  “But you were a man, not a jaguar.”

  “My Dragarian blood seems to have amplified my Felidaekin healing.”

  I hung my head. “I had to get away. I couldn’t watch you die.” Wiping my face, I sniffed.

  “You won’t escape that easy. Don’t you know? I’d walk a thousand clicks on one leg just to see you again.”

  My laugh came out half-sob. “Kind of hard to do on one leg.”

  While his eyes gleamed, he nodded, all serious. “I’d do it.”

  “I love you Jag.”

  He pulled me close again, though he winced when we touched.

  “Your wound!” Horrified, I wrenched at his shirt, sending fasteners flying. “Show me.”

  Stilling my hands, he held them cupped in his own. Kissed them. “I plan to show you a lot of things, babe. For the rest of our lives.” His voice deepened. “But first, I have to tell you I love you, too. Always will.”

  I traced my fingertip along the raw wound in his side. The skin had barely started to knit together, and blood stained his clothing. Too much blood. “How can this be true? The laser. Your insides—”

  “Nothing will ever keep us apart.”

  Not even the threat of death.

  “My blade.” I glanced at it lying in the sand, the blue tip stained with my blood. “I was convinced it thirsted. But what it really sought was you.”

  “Look at mine.” He pulled it from the sheath he’d strapped to his thigh. It shone the deepest blue, though not as beautiful as his eyes.

  It was time. “Once you’ve fully healed, I have a request.”

  “Name it.” His gaze met mine. “Anything I have is yours.”

  “I want twenty-four hours. Alone. With you.”

  “Aren.” My name came out with his eager sigh. “Are you…Do you mean…?”

  “We’ve touched. Kissed. Now I want you to make love to me, Jag. I want it all. A Dragarian bond, like my true parents had, plus a Felidaekin bond.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  “Soon.”

  He chuckled. “I did say I’d make you beg, didn’t I?”

  I kissed him quickly. “I think there will be begging on both our parts.”

  “I’m holding you to that promise.” Taking my hand, he tugged me to my feet and we started for the Resistance stronghold.

  Terra walked ahead of us, about a quarter click away. She turned and gave us a toothless grin. “See? I knows all,” she called out. “Yous should trust me.”

  Like I trusted Jag.

  As we walked toward the fence, I rested my head on his shoulder.

  My happiness faded as I took in the wounded, the dead, the devastation and destruction wrought by the greed of mankind.

  “What happens now?” I asked as we wove around medics lending assistance, others pulling pieces of cloth over faces.

  Jag squeezed my hand. “We start over.”

  We. I liked that.

  “Where?” I asked. Would he want to return to Aaidar? A mercenary, let alone the son of the Supreme Commander, he had duties.

  I’d follow him wherever he led.

  “Herc seems pretty hot for Maya,” he said.

  “And Janie and Leo are expecting a child.”

  “Lyrie’s the Queen, and Khal is determined to remain by her side.”

  “The Resistance is part of their family.”

  He stopped and tugged me around to face him. “I’m with you. Whether it’s here in the caves, wandering the desert with your Refugees, or traveling to a distant planet.”

  “Lyrie and Maya have waited a long time to bring the Glian people back together.”

  “No doubt they’ll need help to retake the city.” He nudged his head toward the two warships resting on the sand. “And I bet this crew is eager to lend a hand.”

  We could do this. Cat shifters, Glians, and Dragarians, marching together to the city.

  And we might just win.

  But the real prize was us.

  ~THE END~

  Thanks for reading. We hope you’ve enjoyed the CAT SHIFTERS OF AAIDAR series as much as we have.

  Please, would you leave a review for Endings? We’d love to hear your thoughts. Click here.

  We’re going to miss these characters.

  If you want a sneak peek, turn the page and read a chapter of CAPTURED BY A DRAGON, the first book in Christina’s Dragon Mated Series…

  ~Laney & Christina

  CAPTURED BY A DRAGON

  Chapter One

  Jenny

  Despite what my friends thought, I would never be the adventurous type.

  “Can you remind me again why I said I wanted to do this cave exploration thing?” I asked Tanya, trying not to whine.

  She, PJ—short for Pamela Jean—and I grew up foster kids, living in the same neighborhood, going to the same school. We bonded on the playground in third grade and have been best friends since. We’d thought about sharing an apartment, because we hung out all the time and had a lot of fun together, but hadn’t so far.

  “You’re gonna love this,” Tanya said.

  Easy for her to say. My friends had done this a couple of times before. As the least athletic of our group, I’d avoided all this cave diving stuff, because my idea of diving was shoving my hand into a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.

  For weight lifting, I hefted a container of Ben & Jerry’s. Chunky Monkey, to be exact.

  Standing beside PJ’s mini-van, I gnawed on my lower lip and stared toward the hillside I’d soon take on like my own, personal Mt. Everest. It was steep. Tree-covered. And intimidating.

  “Last I knew,” I said. “Spelunking was for experienced cavers and hikers. Which I’m not.” Fact was, I could barely pronounce spelunking. The extent of my woodsy activities consisted of walking two city blocks to the local coffee shop.

  And watering my houseplants.

  “Chill. This is a baby hike,” Tanya said as she stepped into a set of bright red coveralls and tugged them up over her broad hips. She tucked her arms through the sleeves and then zipped the suit all the way to her chin. The matching red hardhat she plunked on her head smooshed her long, brown hair. With a fire-red flashlight dangling from a belt loop on her waist, she looked like a scarlet woman version of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

  On any given day, my bestie ruled the fashionista scene as a plus-size lingerie model. She was also an opera singer on the side (don’t ask). But she’d be laughed off the lingerie runway, let alone the stage, if she strolled out in front of the crowd in a get-up like this.

  But, then, we weren’t here to impress anyone, except maybe a few bunnies and mice. Random spiders and snakes, too, I supposed. This was western Georgia.

  Shivers racked my frame. Not just because it was ass-crack-of-dawn and the sun hadn’t deci
ded to warm up the Earth yet, but because I’d opted for shorts and a button-up cotton shirt for today’s excursion.

  I’d been told this would be a lazy-man’s version of caving. Essentially a walk in the park.

  A way to pop my spelunking V-card.

  First, we’d take a leisurely stroll to the cave entrance. Then, we’d duck inside and drop down a short distance by rope into a hole in the back of the cave. Once we reached the bottom, we’d kick up our feet on the equivalent of rock recliners and savor a hard-earned lunch while checking out the stalactites. Or was it stalagmites? I shrugged. Probably both.

  “Trust me, honey,” Tanya said with a grin. “There’s not a thing to worry about. This is beginner’s caving. To warm you up to bigger things.”

  “The only big thing I’d like to see today is a trenta mocha latte,” I said. “With a double squirt of whipped cream on top.” My belly rumbled at the thought of the rich, creamy liquid sliding down my throat, reminding me that the donut I’d eaten during the ride here was so not going to cut it. If I didn’t hunt down some major sustenance soon, I’d have to resort to living off the land—my muffin top, that is.

  “You and your coffee,” PJ said. She squinted at me while donning her own coveralls—bright blue. The color brought out the blue of her eyes and went nicely with her blue hair. What was it with everyone and their matching color schemes today?

  I was so underdressed.

  “Don’t forget, we’re going out after dinner,” PJ added, her voice light with humor. An archeology professor, she loved cooking and exploring new food on the side. She’d picked out a fancy-schmancy restaurant for tonight’s dinner, but we were hitting the bar scene after that. “Are you sure a coffee’s the only big thing you want on your menu today? What about a hot guy with an enormous—” She pumped her curvy hips and chuckled. “Hoo-ha.”

  When she snickered, I scowled.

  As a kindergarten teacher, I’d gotten into the habit of using fake names for body parts when discussing intimate subjects, in case there happened to be kiddoes around who might overhear. But PJ didn’t have to rub it in.