Relieved, Tera heaved a sigh.
The evening's rehearsal went well. Tera didn't miss a beat or a step, losing herself in the music and the sensuality of it all. Promising to be there in the morning for one more final practice run, she started for the door.
"Oh, Tera,” Larel called out. “Don't worry about clothes for the dance tomorrow night. We have the clothes here, and you'll be sized with everyone else tomorrow."
"Great,” Tera called back. Thank the stars for that, because she had no idea what she had to wear.
Outside, she was met by Marx, who was attending the birthing that had been expected. She accompanied him to the home, and it was late when she finally returned to the house she shared with Wylin. He met her in the kitchen with a hot cup of una, which she gratefully swallowed before heading down to the pool beneath the house.
Soaking in the warm water, she thought of the little runt born in an otherwise strong litter. A little female with seal, brown and cream hair. Her parents had showered her with as much love as they had the other Felys kits, and she'd snuggled down quickly after being fed, the warmth of her bigger litter mates warming her.
Sighing, Tera stared at the candles burning softly in the underground room. She hoped her father came up with the answer to the arrival of runts. And she sincerely hoped they had a chance of saving those already born. She just knew if one died, one that she knew, she'd be crying as much as the parents.
Illam didn't come for her that night. She'd left her door open, but when the hours passed, she turned over with a heavy heart and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
* * * *
Space
The pirates had broken through, he saw. He'd yelled to his men, and they'd fought valiantly, but they weren't vicious like the pirates. They weren't murderers.
What drove them to fight even while severely injured was the knowledge of the wenches they had aboard. The wenches who would be at the mercy of the pirates. To be raped, abused, maybe sold or killed after the pirates had tired of playing with them.
He saw his friend look at him with an agonized expression. His love was on board, and soon she'd be at the mercy of the vicious scum who now stormed down upon them.
There would be no bargaining.
God have mercy on them all.
The laser fire seared across his chest, burning the skin. But still he fought, now in hand-to-hand combat which gave them an advantage over the pirates. But the pirates fought dirty. They used their lasers at close range. It wasn't long and bodies of his friends littered the floor in bloodied, violent death.
He knew he and his crew were beaten. Finally they stood against one wall, the only six left standing. Panting, bloodied, severely injured, they watched as the pirate captain swaggered down the corridor.
Sneering Death on two legs. A wench's nightmare. A decent man's tormentor.
And he knew he wouldn't see his love again. His sweet, sweet love with the laughing eyes and soft lips.
* * * *
Calean studied the object. “It looks like a holder of some kind."
"From when?” Mitzi held it up. “And what did it hold?"
"Something of importance.” He pointed to the words molded into the base. “See this?"
"Damn.” Mitzi frowned. “It's..."
"Yes. It's Felys."
"That's impossible! How did a Felys artifact get on this side of the swamps?"
"I have no idea. They haven't come on this side of the swamp for hundreds of years, and we haven't gone onto their side for the same time."
"Obviously someone snuck over here at some time in history."
Calean scratched his ear thoughtfully. “They're the only ones who can decipher this writing, too."
"Aw, no.” Mitzi growled.
"Aw, yes,” he mocked her in a rare show of sneering.
Usually he was unflappable, patient, and had the tenacity of a bloodhound, but right now he was miffed that the ancient artifact he held was a Felys one, and not one of his own kind. He was a historian, a collector of ancient artifacts to place reverently in the museums. Or sell for a few hundred dinnos.
As Mitzi said, if it ever got out that they were selling artifacts on the side, particularly artifacts from another species ... well, life would not be nice.
But no one was going to know.
"We'll sell it,” he decided. “Get rid of it. Take it to our contact, and get what you can for it.” He shoved it into Mitzi's hands.
"Yes, master,” she sneered.
"Just do it."
As Mitzi crossed the encampment towards the hover tray, she was waylaid by Fidz.
He quietly handed her a package. “Here. I found this near the holder. It's a part of it, I think. You can sell this for us while you're at it."
"What am I, everyone's sales-bitch?"
"You pocket a share of my finds, Mitzi, just as you pocket a share of Calaen's, so this just adds to your combined income."
"And yours."
Fidz grinned.
Muttering beneath her breath, Mitzi checked that no one—including Calean—was watching before she grabbed the package from Fidz and stuffed it into the bag in which the holder rested. She left the encampment in the hover tray turned carrier. The metal tray made creaking noises behind the cabin, but she ignored it. The holder was wrapped in heavy canvas, and she glanced at it several times with dislike. Bloody Felys. They were a useless, no-good bunch of lycat has-beens. Hybrids that should have been wiped out during the slave years. Pity that hadn't happened.
Growling in displeasure, she drove onwards towards the settlement where the contact was going to meet her. Well, this was one more piece of precious history lost to the Felys. And good bloody riddance.
Her contact was ecstatic about the holder, and paid her a good price for it. It did a lot to soothe her moodiness, and she stopped at a nearby tavern to have a few drinks, and a roll in the sack with a heavyset man who panted a lot during the sex and knotted her good. He also gave her some very interesting information. That information she gave to Lazar, Ropar's attendee. Only then did she head back to the encampment, and her lover, Calean.
* * * *
Sitting in the chair on his verandah, Illam watched Tera from a distance. He'd decided yesterday that he could accept her culture and what she believed in, even if he didn't really agree with it. And as long as she wasn't going to be sexually torturing anyone, he could live with that, too. He for sure couldn't live without her.
Now he wanted her. He wanted her on her stomach, naked and hot and begging for him. However, judging by the cool looks she'd cast his way yesterday afternoon, she wasn't really feeling in a submissive mood.
Well, hell.
The slave years ... well, Wylin was right. It was over, the Felys had new allies, a strong bond with the Argons, and possibly another ally in the Daamens if the talk between the leaders was anything to go by. The slave years were gone, they'd been gone for over a hundred years. Slavery was abolished, life was good, and there was the promise of better things to come. His people were willing to let history be where it should be, in the past. They'd learned valuable lessons, and it was time to put those lessons to work in the future. They'd still be wary, for that was their way when faced with the unknown. But they were looking ahead, not back. They wanted it to work.
He wanted to work in Tera. In and out and in and out. Hard and fast. Deep and slow. On her back, her stomach, standing, sitting ... oh crap. Now he had a hard-on.
"By Jocat, Illam, get a grip.” Denyon stepped up onto the verandah. “I think you need a cold shower."
Illam scowled. “I need a hot female."
"Yeah, what's with you and Tera?"
"I had to accept some things before she'd go any further."
"Laying conditions, huh?"
"The slave years. Sexual torture. The usual."
"Oh, of course.” Leaning his shoulder against the verandah post, Denyon studied him lazily. “So why aren't you out there wooing her?"
"Because I got a distinctly cool look from her. And I have a plan."
"Your plans are dangerous, Illam. They don't always work out."
Illam grinned. “This one will."
Denyon raised his brows. “The dance?"
"I'm in Samon's place, seeing as how he's away dealing with Farra's heat phase.” Lucky for me. “And guess who's in Farra's place?"
His friend stared for a minute, then he started to laugh. “Tera.” He winked. “You devil."
"I'm going to dance that Argon into a frenzy,” Illam stated with supreme satisfaction. “I'm going to have her practically jumping onto the dais and tearing my clothes off. She'll be rolling on her stomach within seconds of getting back to my bedroom."
Amused, Denyon glanced across to the healers’ hut. “Maybe you'll be the one rolling on your stomach."
Following his gaze, Illam saw Tera walking down the steps with a litter of Felys kits scampering around her. The kits had taken a liking to both her and Wylin, especially the runts who instinctively knew that Tera had a soft spot for them.
One of the runts fell over and looked like he was going to start howling. His bigger sibling picked him up, dusted him off, and took his hand, bringing him back into the wild game of tag that was going on around the healers’ hut.
The healthier, stronger Felys kits always watched out for the runts ... when the runts would let them. He remembered his own little sister, and felt the familiar sense of loss at her death when she was only five. Too weak to survive, even though they'd all taken so much care of her.
He wished his own parents were still alive and could have met Tera and Wylin, and known of the Argons, and the hope that they offered. But they'd both died young, his mother from a birthing hemorrhage that had been unable to be staunched, and his father in a cliff fall.
Denyon's mother had become like his own, as she'd simply absorbed he and his two sisters into her own large family. Denyon and he were as close as brothers. This was why Denyon knew him so well.
"By the way,” Illam said conversationally. “I had a little chat with Wylin."
"Oh?” Alertness showed in Denyon's eyes.
"Yep. He threatened to rip my head off if I hurt Tera."
"Great. You better make sure you don't hurt her."
"Her happiness is my mission."
"Delcat,” Denyon muttered.
"Juts wait until you discover your mate, Denyon."
"I hope I don't come across as harebrained and soppy like you."
"You're just jealous.” Illam's grin broadened. “I'm going to do some serious diddling tonight."
"If I hear you scream, should I come to save you?"
"I'll rip your head off if you dare to even knock on the window."
"There's a lot of head ripping threats going on lately."
"Makes life interesting.” Illam's pupils slitted. “Oh, look. Tera's going to the Meeting Hall to do some rehearsal."
They silently watched her progress. The kits left her once Illam's sisters met her halfway, and the kits tore back to Wylin, who had found a ball and was rallying them for a game, runts included. Aras and Garan wandered over to assist him, and the game was on.
Illam was more interested in watching Tera. He couldn't help but see his sisters laugh at something she said. They looked over at him and waved cheerfully.
That couldn't be good. They were laughing at him. He scowled.
"Your sisters are her friends,” Denyon drawled. “Watch out, Illam. They'll be a bad influence on her."
"I hear it's the other way. Murta called Ceric a fur-ball last night."
Denyon's lips twitched.
"I wonder where Murta could have picked that up from?” Illam watched broodingly as Tera disappeared inside the building.
A chorus of feminine snarls filled the air, and the heavy beat of music started. Illam couldn't see the females, but he knew the steps, knew what they were doing. And they were doing it with feminine grace. His loins started to grow heavy at the thought of Tera doing ... the dance.
"I just can't bear to watch you get any more of a hard-on. I'm going to go blind.” Denyon started down the steps. “Let's go and help Wylin with the kits. That ought to take your mind off a certain female."
"I think I'd better have a cold shower first, or I'll scare the kits."
"You scare me, Illam."
Illam leered. “You're jealous."
Denyon stuck his finger up at him.
* * * *
The day promised to end with rain. Clouds were gathering overhead, and the breeze was whipping up a little stronger. But the chill hadn't set in yet, so Tera went out into the forest with Wylin, Denyon, Rilla, Aras, and a couple of litters of Felys kits, who tried to help them collect samples of vegetation. They were more a hindrance than a help, but at least they were small and agile enough to get into small spots and retrieve samples where the adults couldn't reach. And their enthusiasm knew no bounds. They swung into trees, scampered amongst bushes, and rolled and spat and had play fights every few feet.
The Argons were learning fast. It wasn't long and they didn't even notice the ruckus the Felys kits made.
"On the other side of the forest is a swamp,” Aras said to Wylin. “We don't go past the swamp."
"The boundary between your people and the Canys?” Wylin guessed.
"That's correct. I just wasn't sure if that had been mentioned to you or not."
"It has, but thanks for reminding us. Do you mind if I ask why the races don't mix?"
"We're not really compatible, but we've managed to co-exist by respecting the boundary. It's actually a law on the planet now."
"Good thinking. Laws can save a lot of problems."
"Is it an old enmity?” Tera queried.
"It goes back hundreds of years. Before the slave years, there was fighting on and off between the other race and us. The slave years made us back off as we tried to survive."
"This other race was taken as slaves, too?"
"Not as sex slaves, though. For some reason they weren't considered as attractive, and didn't seem to have the sex drive that the slavers and those who bought us wanted. We were found to be more attractive, they were found to be simply worker material, apparently."
"I'd have thought that was a good thing, in a way."
"Maybe.” Aras shrugged. “A peace of sorts came between us as we battled to survive, and now we simply stay on our own sides of the boundary. It works."
Tera looked at Wylin. “I haven't really thought about this other race. Did Kiile have much information on them?"
"Enough to correlate with what Aras has said."
"So what do they do to survive?"
"They are great historians,” Aras answered. “They have museums and deal in artifacts, with a huge knowledge of history that they obtained thousands of years before. The knowledge was passed through generations, and even now some planet leaders visit them and hire them to come and excavate historical sites. They archive everything for them, value things ... it's just a shame they're such low-down hounds."
"I take it you don't like them?” Tera asked dryly.
"You figure right."
"Why don't you mend some bridges with them?"
"We did. This is the result. They have their side of the planet and we have our side, and all is happy."
"So what do the Lypeople think of it all?"
"They're the same as us, but probably more tolerant.” Aras cast her a sly look. “They actually have mixed with them on occasion, for state affairs, but you know us ... we're just more feral and intolerant."
Tera laughed outright. “Feral? I've yet to see a sign of that!"
"You'll wound me if you keep laughing at us.” Aras grinned. “The Lypeople like civilization, we like the forests. They like to buy comforts, we like to make them."
Lap lycats and wild lycats. Tera hid her smile. “I must meet these Lypeople some day."
"Keep hanging around with us and you will,” Aras replied. �
�But the men aren't as handsome.” He preened.
"They keep their shirts on and cut their hair?"
"They do keep their shirts on, and they don't have our fabulous eyes.” He fluttered his eyelashes at her. “Feeling faint with my handsomeness yet? Am I overwhelming you?"
"I am feeling a mite nauseous,” Tera returned.
"I'm wounded."
"I bet."
Denyon came up to walk alongside Tera. He was silent for several minutes, but she could feel that he wanted to say something.
He waited until the others drew ahead of them before saying conversationally, “I hear you're taking part in the dance tonight."
"Yes. I just hope I don't fall off the dais and disgrace myself and the Argons in general.” She smiled.
"You do know what the significance of the dance is, don't you?"
"To entice the opposite sex, drive them into a sexual frenzy, and maybe unearth a few nature mates for good measure."
"I see the females have been educating you."
"It's been interesting."
Denyon looked at her soberly. “Do you understand the possible consequences to yourself?"
"I doubt I'm going to entice any Felys males there when there are so many Felys females available."
"You may entice one in particular."
"Illam.” Tera shrugged. “If he's interested, maybe."
"Don't presume he isn't, Tera.” Denyon stopped and looked down at her. “Don't underestimate him."
"He's obviously spoken to you.” Tera regarded him back steadily.
"Yes."
"About our attraction to each other?"
"Yes."
"Then you know that I've given him a choice."
"Yes."
This Felys was certainly closed mouth.
"Look, Denyon, I gave him a choice. I don't force him to my way of thinking, and I'm not asking him to take on my beliefs. I respect if he decides he can't accept me and my beliefs. But the man is taking his own sweet time trying to come to a decision. If he's decided he doesn't want me, then my dancing isn't going to change his mind."
Denyon looked like he really wanted to tell her something, but when she raised one brow questioningly, he simply sighed and shook his head.
"Oh, that's really sharing,” Tera said.
Love's Beguiling Healer Page 26