by Kama Spice
Sehra’s Honor
Kama Spice
Rawa is an Independent. A cat shifter who left his pride as soon as he could, shortly after his sexual Awakening. He’d looked forward to the day he could escape his father’s abuse and travel the pridelands—making his own way and carving his own destiny. But in leaving behind his pride of origin, he also left behind Sehra, the only female who made his blood rage furiously.
Now Sehra’s father has promised her to a future Leader King in the Eastern Territories. For years after her Awakening, Sehra longed to feel the heat of Rawa’s skin against hers. But having given up on his return, she has agreed to the match and a date has been set.
Although Rawa has tried to forget Sehra, the thought that he might lose her forever is unbearable and he begins a race against the clock. Rawa must stop this ceremony and claim Sehra, once and for all.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Sehra’s Honor
ISBN 9781419929281
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Sehra’s Honor Copyright © 2010 Kama Spice
Edited by Mary Moran
Cover art by Dar Albert
Electronic book publication August 2010
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Sehra’s Honor
Kama Spice
Chapter One
Rawa wiped the dust off his brow with the back of his hand. The sun was sharp, almost directly above them now. His traveling companion Inuku, whom he’d met on the road, was an Independent like himself, and the two had been on the road in their human forms for half a day. Traveling with a companion was far preferable, Rawa had discovered, to traveling alone. For one thing, Inuku was well-prepared for the harsh journey through the Western Territories. He carried a healthy stash of the sacred Mun’hai berries—necessary for the very survival of all Lith’hah like themselves.
The faint sounds they had heard from afar were now clearly music and singing. “It looks like we’re coming upon a gathering of prides,” Inuku said.
Rawa nodded. “Summer solstice honorings.”
“Is it solstice already?” Inuku shook his head. “Once I became an Independent, I lost track of celebrations.” He then turned to look at Rawa. “Perhaps you will hear word about your mate at this gathering.”
Rawa shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted to see the oasis-like settlement ahead. There was much movement, but it was mostly hidden by leaves and brush. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Perhaps.”
They made their way to the edge of the brush. Rawa turned to his left and allowed just enough of a shift to his Lith’hah form so he could better sense his surroundings. He sniffed the air and returned to his full human form. “There is water nearby. Let us go to the river first,” he said with just a hint of a growl remaining in his voice. He gestured to their clothing and dusty footwear. “We need not honor these pride members with our filth and stench.”
Inuku laughed. “You are absolutely right, friend. Let us wash before greeting the members.”
The river was on the other side of the settlement, and the two large Lith’hah males made their way undetected toward the sound of lapping waves. Rawa stripped quickly and plunged in, submerging his head in the cold mountain water with great relish.
When he came up, he saw that Inuku had picked several of the minty leaves from an overhanging Roobar branch and was rubbing them on his skin. “Good plan, friend,” Rawa said, swimming toward his traveling companion. He grabbed a couple of leaves and began scrubbing away the day’s dirt and grime.
Inuku threw a bottle of herb paste toward Rawa. “Here,” he said, “for that mane of yours.”
Rawa caught the bottle and looked at it. “What’s in it?”
“Something that will take the wet rodent smell from your hair.”
Rawa chuckled. “If mine smells anything like yours, I’ll need it.”
He rubbed the herbal mixture into his thick, wavy hair. The color of bark brew, she had once teased. He lathered more vigorously as images of Sehra once again seized every inch of space in his mind.
When they were both clean and presentable, the two males walked through the brush and into the gathering.
“Ancients,” Inuku cursed, “there must be at least twelve prides here.”
Rawa scanned his surroundings carefully. He had learned to be aware of what was around him at all times during his years as an Independent. A Lith’han alone in the wild without a pride was just as vulnerable as some of the lower species on the food chain. Wolves, hyenas and some of the larger predators in the Extreme North, which would be no match for a Lith’han one-to-one, were fatal when encountered in large numbers.
Though Independents often traveled together in pairs for short periods, they rarely formed long-lasting bonds. They often challenged another Leader King for his pride—killing him and his heirs in the process, or they took a mate and began their own pride. If the Independent did not manage to kill the Leader King, that Independent became a member of the pride, if he was considered worthy by the king.
Rawa growled. He would never become another Leader King’s minion. He would start his own pride and become the Leader King he was meant to be. He knew it in his bones—he was destined to lead what would become a large and powerful progressive pride. Enough with the old and useless ways.
He opened his senses and scanned the grounds. This seemed to be a tame gathering from what Rawa could glean. But he had to be sure there were no threats. No former rivals at this gathering, or those he’d had clashes with during his travels. Male Lith’hah could become very territorial, particularly when it came to Independents.
He shifted into his cat form and climbed up a tall, fat eucalyptus tree. He went as high as he could to see the gathering below in its entirety. Thanking the Ancients for the keen eyesight of the great Siberian cats that all his kind were descended from, he scoured the grounds.
And that’s when he saw her.
* * * * *
Sehra felt the large cat’s eyes on her. Now, without a doubt, she was certain they were his. Rawa’s. For the past hour or so she had caught a whiff of the familiar scent. It had almost unraveled her as she took up the dance of the Ancients.
It couldn’t be, she’d told herself strictly. Rawa was long gone. He left.
He’d left without so much as a goodbye. Without the benefit of an explanation. Without the caresses his eyes had promised her upon her Awakening. She had been waiting impatiently, knowing it was near. Knowing it meant she would finally feel Rawa’s large hands on her skin in that way.
As little ones, the two of them would meet in the large field
where cubs from various prides had daily lessons. During the recess and lunch breaks, they and their friends ran, reveling in their shifting forms and feeling their muscles ripple beneath their coats as they played—hiding in the tall grass, leaping from boulder to boulder, splashing with abandon through the ice-cold waters of the mountain streams.
And then he was gone. Like a puff of smoke. The grief from the loss hurled Sehra into her Awakening, but she had no use for it then. Rawa was gone. Her childhood playmate and pre-Awakening crush, her budding love…vanished.
But now she felt his gaze upon her as if years had not elapsed. She inhaled deeply, searching through the different scents for his. The tips of white-hot flames lapped at her skin. She felt an involuntary tightening between her legs. There was no denying it—that scent was Rawa’s. Not the young, recently Awakened Rawa she remembered—the one with raw lust coursing through his limbs and a fierce need to possess her. A need she, and everyone around them, could smell within a hundred yards.
No, this was an older Rawa, a different Rawa than the one she remembered. He was the only male who’d set her heart racing so fast she feared she wouldn’t meet the oxygen needs of her body.
She raised her arms now to the skies in the divine dance, calling to the Ancients to join the gathering of prides for their annual solstice celebrations. After the dance and song ceremonies, the little ones would be sent to dens set up far away from where the adult Lith’hah would continue to celebrate well into the early dawn hours.
Adult Lith’hah celebrations involved ample-flowing bark brew and stations set up on the field where those who wished to partake in celebrations of the flesh could do so. Others, who wished to have a quieter celebration, had a sanctuary by the river, away from the revelry. And still others congregated by the large, roaring bonfire for conversation and laughter.
Sehra’s body seemed to lean toward the direction of Rawa’s scent and she cursed under her breath. He abandoned you, she reminded herself, for years. She gritted her teeth. She was not the same young pre-Awakened cub he’d left. If he thought he could just stroll back into her life and claim her after so many years, he was in for a shock.
And yet she sensed his desire as his gaze bore into her skin. She struggled to keep her focus on the dance. And she wondered if he could smell her desire. She certainly could. It engulfed her, fueling her need all the more.
As the dance wound down, several elders rose to offer prayers to the Ancients before a sweet made from pounded and stewed Mun’hai berries mixed with flour from the ancient karn grain was passed around to all who had witnessed the invocation.
Sehra didn’t look in the direction of Rawa’s scent as she moved as far to the other end of the ceremonial circle as she could. She needed distance from him. She wasn’t ready to confront him just yet—though she wasn’t sure she would ever be.
Then she felt his energy slip away and his scent seemed to get swallowed up by the scents of the celebrations. The panic that consumed her was alarming. Enough, she admonished. You were likely in a trance from the dancing, you idiot. Forget him. As he so easily forgot you.
* * * * *
Rawa watched her from a distance, not missing a single movement. Her limbs glistened with oil and her silky black-and-tan hair flowed over her bronzed shoulders like water.
There she was. The woman he had known since they were young cubs. Somewhere along the way, during those early years, Rawa knew without a single doubt that she would be his. Whenever there were pairings of any sort, or teams, Sehra was with him. He made sure of it. The urge to look out for her, to keep her safe and out of harm’s way, was strong, not that he would have fought it anyway.
He shook his head as he watched the beauty who had crowded into his thoughts for the past seven years. She was always there, on the periphery, invading his senses, never allowing him to forget and move on. The memory of her scent and the warmth of her laughter would worm their way into his thoughts, even when he was in the arms of other females.
He’d left during the night, two years after his Awakening ceremony at eighteen and before Sehra’s had even begun. He remembered praying desperately for her Awakening so he could be closer to her—feel her skin, her heat, hear her gasp for breath, hold her as she writhed against him. But he’d run out of time. If he hadn’t left when he did, something terrible would have been inevitable. He knew leaving his pride and becoming an Independent might destroy his chances of ever being with a woman like Sehra. But he had to leave. He’d had no choice.
Eventually the emptiness pressed down so he couldn’t breathe. He began to have night sweats. During a stay with another pride during his travels, the female whose bed he’d been sharing called for a healer when Rawa stopped breathing for so long she thought he’d died. The healer placed her hands on Rawa’s chest, looked deep into his eyes and said, “My son, you must seek the source of your light. She is in the flower of your memory. She is the breath in your lungs—the spark that ignites you. Without her, you are but a shadow.”
Rawa had growled, knowing full well to whom the healer was referring. “I can’t. She is of a lineage far above mine. Her elders would rather she died before seeing her with someone like me—especially now, as an Independent. Besides, I’m sure she hates me for leaving. She’s better off without me.”
“You are wrong, my child,” the healer whispered. Her paper-thin skin seemed illuminated from the inside. “She is but a shell without you—if not now, that is certainly what she is to become.”
That one sentence had stopped Rawa from uttering anything further. Sehra—his Sehra—a shell of a Lith’han? Not possible. But this was a healer, and healers had the gift of sight. This one, he sensed, was far more experienced than any of the ones he’d known before.
For several nights, he slept poorly. The thought that Sehra—vibrant, quick-to-laugh, effervescent Sehra—was or would become a shell of the girl he remembered was unbearable. Was he the reason for it? That was even more insufferable.
So he’d set out to find her. The prides had moved in accordance with the Council’s decrees over the years. There had been massive shifts in policy with Leader Kings of various prides wanting sweeping changes in the way things were done—all for the good, as far as he was concerned. It was high time some of the staunch elders were forced to move forward. To let go of the archaic ways of the past.
When Rawa had gone back to where Sehra’s pride had been when they were cubs, she and her pride were long gone. He searched years to find her again, working hard to ask questions without arousing suspicion.
Though Sehra was no longer a young pre-Awakened female in need of her guardians’ watchful gazes, Rawa heard rumors over the course of his search that she had yet to make a True Mate vow. That meant her elders would still have a keen, watchful eye on her.
Independents, who once were respected for their skill in combat, had acquired a bad reputation after several were found to have taken advantage of their status. One Independent was alleged to have violated the powerful Leader Queen Kessa Lyah of the Silver lineage before her Awakening. Though the Independent been found, tried and punished to the fullest extent of The Laws, Rawa was sure damage such as that would take a lifetime of undoing.
Because of this, Rawa kept his quest for his mate quiet. And then, purely by coincidence, he’d met Inuku, a fellow Independent who was on his way west, and accompanied him.
While on that path, Rawa knew with more and more certainty that he and Sehra were meant to be together, despite being from different lineages. Hers was a proud one and Rawa knew he would have to fight for her. But he felt it in his bones—his path and hers were merged like the finely braided strand hanging from her temple.
In her Lith’hah form, she was black and tan, with eyes the color of the greenest new shoots on a Mun’hai tree. As a human, her hair maintained the colors of her coat, and her eyes were the same green, angled up toward her temples as the honey color of her skin set them off. Her scent, now so close, lifted him to the
dizzying heights of the sacred Barlo weed used for the ceremony she had just danced in.
Now that his eye was trained on her, his longing for a taste of her lips, his yearning for the scent of her skin exploded inside his entire being. He knew he would have to move carefully. Timing and strategy were key. He’d finally found her again; he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight this time.
The idea that she was still without a mate stirred something deep within him. Fire surged throughout his limbs and he knew the scent of his desire would be detected by the females in the vicinity—and possibly by Sehra. But he didn’t try to mask it.
Watching her hips undulate before him in the Lith’hah dance to invoke the Ancients was maddening. A growl rumbled in his chest. No more waiting. When this ceremony was over and the adults separated into their various desired locations, Rawa would make Sehra his through a mating he had fantasized about since his Awakening.
* * * * *
When the last of the little ones was a distant speck heading toward the safe dens set up for them, Sehra headed toward the river. She needed time alone with her thoughts. There were already moans at the stations and the air began to fill with the scent of sex. Sehra walked quickly past. With the trance she had slipped into earlier, she was in no mood to listen to the ecstasy of others. She wanted the silence of the river. The river that ran perpetually and reliably through the pride grounds since the time of the Ancients.
This gathering was hosted by her pride. Many of the Lith’hah were from her lineage, the Onyx Cats, aptly named for their deep connection to all that is shrouded in darkness—the soul, the intuition and divine wisdom. She had looked forward to it, hoping something would happen here to change the course of her life. That something magical would transpire and turn her into someone else—someone with a more exciting future. Someone who had things to look forward to.