He entered the home and closed the door. “Thanks.”
John sat in the chair. He closed his eyes and absorbed the heat that filled the home. It made its way beneath his layers of clothing, through his skin, and into his bones. His shivers slowly ceased.
His senses refused to release Jasira from their hold. They followed her around the kitchen. Though he could not see her, John knew what she was doing. Cups and bowls drifted from cabinets. Spoons levitated from drawers. He gritted his teeth. They were the supplies the king had sent for him. Why did Jasira keep them? She had no need for them. Had she hoped he would return? John suppressed the hope that sparked in his heart.
Jasira placed a hot, steaming bowl of what looked like oatmeal in front of John.
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”
The bowl inched closer to him.
“Really, I’m not all that hungry.”
The spoon lifted in the air and floated in his face.
“Jasira…”
The spoon dipped into the bowl, scooping some oatmeal. It rose to inches from John’s mouth.
John did not want to insult her, so he ate it. His brows lifted high. “Mmmm. That’s good.” He took the spoon Jasira offered him and ate on his own. The oatmeal’s warmth helped to chase the cold from his core faster.
John’s eyes and senses followed Jasira while she boiled a kettle of water. It was the same teapot Yudit had sent John. He saw a small box from one of the cabinets float to the kettle. He did not recognize the box. Jasira sprinkled some dark herbs into the water. Her energy force remained by the teakettle until it whistled. Jasira reached for a mug and filled it with the boiling tea. She placed the herbal drink beside John’s bowl.
John eyed it suspiciously. It was a reddish-brown color and smelled foul. He swallowed his oatmeal. “Okay, I mean no insult, but what is that?”
He could not see Jasira twisting her lips in thought. How were they going to communicate with each other?
“Okay, how about this? Since I’m full of questions, why don’t you tap once for yes and twice for no. How’s that?”
There was one tap on his shoulder.
He nodded. “This is some sort of herbal tea, right?
One tap.
“Is it a regular herbal tea?”
Two taps.
John frowned. “It’s not.” He looked inside the mug. He sniffed it. “Am I supposed to drink it?” The idea repulsed him.
One tap.
“Not if I don’t know what it is.”
Her hand rubbed his chest.
John thought for a moment. “My chest? You mean this is for my chest cold?”
One tap.
“Ohhh, so this is medicine tea.”
One tap.
He smiled. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to. Dena’s been giving me medicine for two weeks.” His head tilted to one side. “Granted, it hasn’t helped.”
Jasira lifted the mug and lowered it. She then rubbed his chest.
John’s face expressed confusion. “What do you mean?”
She repeated the motions.
“Are you trying to tell me that this tea will work?”
One tap.
“I doubt it, Jasira. I’m not a Surrealan. I don’t think my body chemistry responds to your medicines. Dena assured me her medicine would work. It was passed down through her family for generations. And I feel worse now than before.”
The mug rose to his lips.
John stared at it. He looked up to where his senses told him Jasira was standing. “Are you normally this pushy?”
One tap.
He chuckled, taking the mug from her hand. “All right, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll drink it.” John took a sip. “Yuck! That’s horrible.” He placed the mug far away from him. “I can’t drink that.”
The mug floated up to his nose.
“Jasira, I don’t want to offend you, but that tea is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. It makes Dena’s medicine taste like candy.”
She rubbed his chest.
“I don’t care if it is for my cold. I don’t want it.”
Her hand touched his forehead.
“Yes, I know I have a fever. I have aches and pains, too.” He started coughing. He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Why do you think I asked you to shoot me?”
Jasira held the mug to him. John clamped his lips together and shook his head. She kissed his forehead. His heart skipped a beat.
“What was that for?”
Jasira placed the mug down and took his empty bowl. John felt a tongue pass over his lips. He stopped breathing. Jasira left his side carrying the bowl. John gasped for air. He licked his lips.
“You…you didn’t answer my question. Why did you kiss me?”
Jasira displayed the bowl to him before placing it in the wash bucket.
“You kissed me because I finished my food?” He waited for her to return to his side.
Jasira tapped him once. She inched the mug closer to him.
John licked his lips and swallowed. “What do I get if I take my medicine?” His senses followed Jasira as she neared his face.
She outlined his lips with her tongue. John growled. He was supposed to break it off. Instead, Jasira’s tongue made his blood rush to his groins. Jasira lifted the mug to him. John took the mug and gulped the horrid liquid. It was a vile, bitter drink.
He lowered the mug and grimaced up at her. “I finished,” he managed to get out. He coughed once and shivered.
A napkin rose to wipe his mouth. He felt a tug on his jacket. John’s gaze lowered. He watched the buttons slip through their holes. He gulped. His heart rate accelerated. The material parted. He shifted in his seat so she could slip the jacket off his shoulders. She carried it to the rocker.
Next, Jasira removed two of John’s shirts. His body trembled profusely. John stopped her when he sensed a pull on his boots. He removed them himself. Jasira placed them beside the door. John felt her nearing. He knew his pants were next. His hands shook with the excitement she made him feel, so he hid them behind his back.
Jasira caressed John’s cheek and neck. Her hand traveled downward across his chest and stomach. His hands closed into tight fists. Her fingers outlined his faint need.
The heat John felt rushed to his cheeks. He bashfully explained, “I was freezing. I have two pairs of pants on.”
He heard the zipper of his first pair open unexpectedly. His eyes grew at her eagerness. Jasira already had him burning up, and he was still dressed. John wondered if she could make him feel as wonderful as she had the other day. He was not submerged in water this time.
Jasira parted the material and gave it a light tug. John snapped out of his fantasy. “I’m sorry.” He jumped up and removed his first pair of pants. Unsure if he should remove the second pair, he sat back down, leaving them on.
Jasira framed his face with her hands. John tilted his head up. An audible sigh escaped him as Jasira plunged her tongue deep into his mouth. Her hands lowered to his shirt. She started to unbutton it. Her hands slipped beneath the material, parting it. She smoothed her palms over every muscle. John groaned. He felt a tug on his pants. His eyes lit up. The mere thought of Jasira touching him pushed him closer to his limits.
John saw the buttons slip through their holes, one at a time. The heat in him reached scorching new levels with the simple act. He watched the material part. He sprung forward. He was free but not for long. Jasira’s fingers wrapped themselves around him. A small cry escaped him. His features grew tight. John knew he should stop her, but her touch brought him pleasures not of this realm.
Jasira’s hand started moving. John cried louder, gripping the sides of the chair. He reveled in those fingers traveling the length of him. All thoughts of stopping Jasira vanished. The ghosts that roamed the streets and castle vanished. John’s need to return to the war vanished. His thoughts, his feelings, his senses were all on Jasira. John’s muscles coiled for a different reason.
>
He closed his glowing eyes. It helped him focus better on his obsession. Jasira held and massaged him with one hand while her other hand carried him closer to that blissful summit. Time stood still. It was how it should be between a man and his mate.
John released the chair, then clung to it tighter. For a moment, he forgot. He fought the pain it caused him by concentrating on Jasira’s hands. His breathing increased, but Jasira’s hand slowed. He did not want her to go slow. He liked her current speed—medium and steady.
He looked at the spot in front of his knees. “What’s wrong?”
He felt Jasira touch his knees. He immediately understood. John opened his legs and closed his eyes, expecting her hand to start moving. At feeling her tongue on his tip, John released a cry. His hips jolted away from her. Wide-eyed and breathing hard, he gaped at the space between his legs.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You took me off guard. Don’t stop. Please.” He sat back in his chair. “Go on.” He gripped the seat and prayed that she did.
John’s heart furiously pounded in his chest. The red-hot bolt of desire that sliced through him bordered on pain. How could a simple touch affect him that much? If he were inexperienced, he would have thought Jasira had tried to cut him with a burning blade. Still, the years John had under his belt did not prepare him for Jasira. He waited anxiously for her decision. His head fell backward on a sigh at the initial stroke of her tongue.
John peeked from beneath his lashes to where he sensed Jasira was. He wanted to see her between his legs, close to his throbbing member. He saw nothing but his manhood pointing upward. His heart twisted. Jasira cupped his weight and gently massaged him. John gripped the chair tighter and purred. The facts could not be ignored. He did not want Dena or any other woman. He wanted Jasira. John closed his eyes and purred louder.
Sweat developed on his forehead. He spotted it forming on his chest and dripping down to his navel. He thought his body had lost the ability to sweat.
“Jasira. Jasira, wait…wait one second.”
Jasira paused.
“Don’t move,” he said, before she could leave her position between his thighs.
John removed his shirt and flung it to the floor on his left. He concentrated and grabbed the waistline of his pants in one hand. He tugged hard. They went through his body. He flung them across the table on his right. He sat back, hoping Jasira liked what she saw, hoping she would scoot closer.
“That’s better, don’t you think?”
Jasira smiled victoriously. She knew she had found John’s weakness—his sexual side. It pleased her that he wanted her touch. The magnificent sight of his nakedness made her itch to know every inch of him. Her hands swiftly traveled over John’s bare calves and thighs. She intentionally scraped her fingernails along the sensitive, inner flesh of his thighs. Seeing goose bumps develop on his skin made her feel mischievous.
She waved a hand across her body, dissolving her gown. She pressed her body to him and heard John’s breath leave him. She watched John’s features relay awe and ecstasy as she rubbed her breasts on his arousal. He opened wider, wanting more, needing more from her. Jasira eagerly rose from her kneeling position. She purposely rubbed the tips of her breasts along John’s thighs, stomach, and chest.
John could not breathe. He felt Jasira’s breasts as they left a scorching trail in their wake. He melted further. Ten claws appeared almost instantly. They dug into the smooth wood of his seat. John arched his back. The need to imprint Jasira’s form on his was elemental.
Jasira seemed to understand, for he detected a pair of slim arms encircling his torso. She pressed against him. John growled. He sought her mouth. Jasira answered. His soul leapt forward, wanting to escape. John frowned. What’s going on?
Jasira broke their kiss. John was not ready to let her go. His lips sought hers. “No. Don’t go.” He felt her slipping back down his body. “Jasira…” He licked his lips. “Come back.” His tool slipped into a hot cavern. There was no mistaking what it was. John forgave her. “Oh God, yes!”
He tilted his hips toward her. He tightly gripped the chair. Jasira’s mouth gently pulled while her tongue wrapped around his erection. John’s growls could be heard outside. He sensed his life force being sucked through his manhood and into Jasira with each upward movement she made.
His fierce need flared and skyrocketed. His manhood swelled in Jasira’s sultry mouth. “Don’t stop!”
John’s lips pulled over his teeth as he pushed into her, unable to stay still any longer. His grip grew numb. His sharp claws dug deeper into the smooth wood. He pictured Jasira’s tongue swirling around his tip while her head moved up and down. John’s glowing eyes blinded even him.
“Jasira!” He growled. “You’re driving me insane!” He closed his eyes. “You’re too good!” He thrust his hips in time with her movements. “Take it!”
Jasira’s speed increased. John eagerly followed suit. His face tilted upward. He wanted it to last, but the searing build up of energy demanded release. His eyes burst open. His core exploded and flames rushed through his body. John roared.
The energy blast sent Jasira on her back. She stared up at the ceiling. This could not be normal. No one had spoken to her about energy blasts while mating. Could it be because he was an alien? Was this normal for his race?
Jasira sat up, smoothing back her hair. If only she could ask him. She gasped at seeing John on the floor. The chair had tilted over backward. Jasira hurried to his side. She patted his cheeks and called his name. Like before, John would not wake up.
Since she could not wake him, she would make him comfortable. She waved her hand. The chair remained underneath John. She waved again. The chair stayed. Jasira frowned. She stood and tried with both hands. It did not work. She looked at her hands. What was wrong? One more time. Nothing. The blast must have short-circuited her connection to the planet. Like John, she needed time to recoup.
She sadly looked upon her dear kindred soul. He was so handsome. Her heart broke. She wished she could make him comfortable. Alas, she could not remove the chair from underneath his bulk. Could she at least move his shirt? It took several tries, but Jasira eventually managed to fling it over his hips.
She dropped to her knees in exhaustion. The blast had depleted her of energy. She made herself comfortable next to John. She was not about to leave him by himself on the floor. She placed her head on his chest, draped her arm around his waist, and closed her eyes.
.
Chapter 8
The sunlight filtered in through the window, illuminating the room. John began to stir. He moaned in protest of the light. His lids lifted partway. He grimaced, using his right hand to shield his eyes. He did not want to wake up yet. It was too early. As a feline, he did not like leaving his bed before ten, unless he was going on duty.
He inhaled deeply and glanced around, frowning. How did he end up on the floor? He felt a warm body curved around his torso. John glanced down his left side. There was nothing there—only his shirt barely covering his manhood. The chair was beneath him.
John used his senses. A life force was cuddled up alongside him. He remembered. Jasira. She managed to make him feel as wonderful as the last time. No. It was better than the last time. He stared up at the ceiling.
John did not know how to feel. He was elated that Jasira wanted to be with him. He was saddened that he could not hold her in his arms and reciprocate her affection. He was angry with himself for not having the strength to say it was over. And he was scared that their mating would only get better if he allowed it to progress. What was he going to do?
If Jasira was alive, John knew exactly what to do. He would ask Jasira to return to the empire with him. Unfortunately, she was a ghost. He could not return with a spirit as a girlfriend. He would have to say good-bye. John closed his eyes on the pain that assaulted him. It was crazy to feel this way. He knew it, but he could not contain it.
John stared down his left side. Jasira use
d his senses against him. Now he could not get her out. It was illogical. How could a spirit have that sort of control over him? A soulmate, yes. That was logical and expected. But a ghost? Never. It was not meant to be. Therefore, they were not meant to be. There was no other outcome for them. He would have to say good-bye and return to reality.
A small hand caressed his right cheek. The gesture made John feel cared for, like he was already home with a special woman at his side.
He smiled for Jasira’s sake, even though he was weeping inside. “Good morning.”
Jasira shifted. She placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose.
John swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I don’t know what happened. I don’t normally fall asleep after…” He could not call it making love. She was a ghost. “Well, after what happened.”
Jasira placed a small peck on his lips. John felt her life force moving away. He rolled off the chair while a few feet in front of him several logs flew into the hearth. A box lifted from a drawer. A slender stick was taken out and lit. The small flame floated to the fireplace, setting the logs on fire. Next, the kettle settled above the growing flames.
As John lifted the chair, his fingers skimmed the bottom of the seat. He raised the chair and examined underneath. He found eight deep grooves cut into the chair. His heart jumped in his chest. He placed his fingers over one set. It was a match. His heart began to pound. He remembered the scorching energy that exploded from his core when he climaxed. John stared at the grooves. It could not be. He extended his claws. His nails followed the path of each line. They matched perfectly.
How was that possible? That was supposed to happen only once—and between soulmates. He felt that amazing explosion twice with a dead woman. John’s breath snagged. He rejected the possibility. He was too excited yesterday and had accidently clawed Jasira’s chair, that was all. He placed the chair down, swallowed, and focused on calming his racing heart.
John picked up his pants and put them on. “Jasira, I’m sorry. It looks like I got too exited yesterday and accidently clawed into your chair. There are some claw marks underneath. I’ll find someone here who can repair it, if not, replace it. I’m really sorry.”
A Lost Kitten Page 11