Cat Star 03 - Rogue

by Brooks, Cheryl - Cat Star 03

  "No," he said, his voice deepening slightly. "Aside from freedom, my life here has lacked only one thing."

  "And that is?"

  With his reply, his voice dropped a full octave, send­ing tendrils of desire curling around my heart. "Love," he replied. "And I believe you are the one who will change that."

  "Me?" I gasped. He might have been suggesting the very thing I'd had on my mind ever since laying eyes on him, but at the same time, the idea scared me a little. I'm such a wuss... "B-but I might not stay long here long," I sputtered. "I may not be able to toler­ate the heat, the Princess might not be able to play a note on the piano—anything could happen!" I paused, groping blindly for some plausible excuse. "And, be­sides, I wouldn't want to be the one to break your heart. You know me: old love 'em and leave 'em Kyra!"

  This was an out-and-out lie, and, if his chuckle was any indication, he knew it. He was so close that the soft glow of his eyes shone right into mine. "Go ahead and do it, Kyra," he urged in a deep, rough voice. "Break my heart."

  What I saw in his eyes scared me even more. It wasn't just passion or desire, it was hunger: a desperate, all-consuming hunger.

  "You want me to break your heart?" I whispered nervously.

  "Loving you would be worth a broken heart."

  I wasn't sure, but I had an idea he could stomp the hell out of mine, and it would be worth the pain. Perhaps he was desperate enough to feel the same way.

  "The men of my world were warriors out of neces­sity," he went on, "but we were made for love. It is our purpose—one which has been denied throughout the years of our enslavement. The Darconian women may find us attractive, but their scent doesn't arouse us, and if the scent of a woman's desire is not present, we cannot mate."

  "That's odd," I croaked. "Human men can mate with"—I paused for a moment to think about that, be­fore adding,—"anything."

  "Is that so?" he said with surprise. "We cannot. Our women were always very reluctant, and to bring out the scent of their desire, we had to... entice them."

  Swallowing hard, I said glibly, "Well, if you don't mind my saying so, I think you got it right; you guys are irresistible." I saw a change of topic and grabbed it like a lifeline. "So, are there any of your women left?"

  "Perhaps," he replied with a shrug, "but our enemies were very thorough."

  "Jealous husbands?" I suggested.

  "Maybe," he said. The glow in his eyes increased again. "Tell me, Kyra: would your husband be jealous of me?"

  I had an idea that any husband I might have had would have killed him just for looking at me like that. "He might—if I had a husband, that is." The tension broke then, and I dissolved into giggles. "'Once you go cat, you never go back,'" I chanted. I was getting downright goofy—it must have been the wine, or the heat, or something—but suddenly, more than anything in the world, I wanted him lying there beside me. The Darconians weren't the only ones who liked a warm body to sleep with—and his was one of only three warm bodies within dozens of light-years, including my own. It struck me then just how alone I was. The Darconians were far more fearsome than he and his brother could ever be, and that realization gave me the courage to say something I ordinarily wouldn't have. "Would you lie down with me?" I asked. "Just for a little while."

  Obviously, he really would do anything I asked of him, because the bed promptly dipped beneath his weight as he settled in behind me. Within seconds, the heat of his body sent blood rushing to my erogenous zones like a flood. I tried to focus on something—anything—else. It was strange to think that a short while ago, I hadn't even known he existed, and now, here he was in my bed with his arm draped over me, and I still didn't know his name.

  "You look like a Siberian tiger," I said impulsively.

  "Tiger?" he echoed curiously. "And what is a tiger?" His voice was gentle and teasing, like a caress, and I felt its effects all the way to my toes. Oh, yes, falling for him would be so easy; resisting him would be so hard...

  "A species of big hunting cats," I explained, doing my best to keep my tone brisk and informative. "They live in a place on Earth where it's cold and snowy, and they're black and white striped and have blue eyes. At least, I think their eyes are blue," I said, my brain still a bit fuzzy. "I'm not sure."

  Picking up my braid, he brought it to his face and sniffed as though he was inhaling the sweet scent of a rose. "And do you like tigers?" he prompted.

  "They're very beautiful," I replied, "but also very dangerous. Like you."

  His throaty chuckle nearly set off another orgasm. "But I am not dangerous," he protested.

  "No? Perhaps not right now, but I think you could be. Very dangerous." As I lay there drifting for a while, I noticed that my head was swimming less since I'd lain down, but I still felt odd, though it might have been because he was spooned up against me so intimately. His fingertips were tracing patterns on my hip, send­ing scores of tingles racing up and down my spine. As he snuggled closer, I felt his other hand began to tease the stray tendrils of hair at my temple, and his breath was tantalizingly warm on my neck. My body began to tremble with a level of desire that was impossible to ignore.

  Inhaling deeply, he whispered, "You smell of desire, Kyra—a scent I had nearly forgotten."

  I didn't have to ask what that scent did to him, be­cause I could feel the thick hardness of his cock pressing against my backside. He seemed to be capable of mov­ing it, too, for it left a trail of moisture behind as it swept back and forth. I'd never heard of a man with so much control of his cock, and all I could think of was what it would feel like to have him moving inside me...

  Of course, what I really should have been thinking about was what would happen if I messed around with one of the Queen's slaves! Cernada had said that the Queen would not permit it, so if I ever did anything of that nature I'd probably be beheaded, or at the very least, banished from the palace! Was he worth the risk? For that matter, was any man worth that risk? Gener­ally speaking, they were nothing but trouble. What was I thinking to ask him to lie down with me? I had to get him out of my bed—or at least find something else for him to do... "I'm so thirsty."

  "I'll get you some water," he said promptly.

  I missed his presence beside me almost immediately. "Hey, um, Tiger," I called out. "You still haven't told me your name."

  "You may call me Tiger, if you like," he said. "There are few who can pronounce my name." I could hear him pouring water into a glass. From a pitcher, I thought glumly. So much for running water...

  "Tell me what it is tomorrow," I suggested. "I'll be thinking more clearly by then, and maybe I can say it."

  "Maybe," he said. "Here, drink this." Sliding an arm beneath my shoulders for support, he held the glass to my parched lips. The water was blissfully cool, and I felt it coursing through my body when I swallowed it, but the feel of his arm around me was enough to turn that water to steam. He even smelled good, and though I couldn't actually identify any specific scent—it was more like in­haling his essence—it made me want more. In the faint moonlight, I could just make out the sparkling stones on his cock ring and wished there was enough light to see him clearly.

  To my surprise, the light suddenly became brighter, as though a cloud had moved aside, fully illuminating his thick shaft. It was every bit as hard and shining as the stones he wore, and the syrupy fluid was still oozing from the scalloped corona of the head. I'd never even dreamed of a man like this, let alone ever had one at my disposal. Oh, God! He was going to get me into so much trouble... Groaning miserably and murmuring my thanks, I sank back into the bed and wished for darkness to return. I was better off if Icouldn Ysee him... Maybe I was imagining things, but the room instantly grew darker.

  "Would you like me to help you remove your dress?" he asked, sounding more seductive than helpful. "It would be best if you did not sleep in it."

  "Mmm, yes, I would like that very much," I said before I could stop myself. Regaining control of my tongue, I added, "But then again, I might lik
e it a little too much. Maybe you should go on to bed yourself. I don't know what time it is here, but it must be getting pretty late."

  I didn't know her very well, but somehow I didn't think Scalia would like the idea of me getting naked with her fancy, expensive slave boy—especially after what Cernada had said. Though as gorgeous as he was, surely Scalia should have known what might happen if she assigned him to me. Or perhaps she had... I re­minded myself that she had seen my reaction to him, as well as his reaction to me. Scalia didn't seem at all stupid; she had to have known. Maybe he was a perk— something to make me want to stay, rather than deciding it was too darn hot on Darconia for a human being to tolerate—but I wished she'd been more specific about what I was allowed to do with him.

  "It's so hot here," I muttered. "Is it always like this? I mean, does it ever cool off or rain?"

  His tone of voice changed along with the subject, going from seductive to informative in the space of a heartbeat. "The desert does cool at night," he said, "but the palace walls keep the internal temperature fairly consistent, so I don't think you'll get cold. It hardly ever rains here, but there is more rainfall in the mountains."

  Somehow I doubted that it would be enough to sus­tain any kind of forest; those mountains had to be as stark and barren as the rest of the desert. "Have you ever been there?"

  "The mountains? No," he replied. "But I have seen the storms from the palace windows." "Never get out, do you?" "No."

  "Do you want to?"

  "Sometimes," he replied warily.

  "Well, maybe I'll take you out to see those trees around the palace. If they ever let me out, that is," I added.

  I was getting very sleepy—either that, or breathing in his aura had a relaxing effect. I was nearly asleep when I remembered something else I needed to ask him. "How do you turn on the lights?"

  "Do you want them on?" The seductive edge to his voice returned.

  "Well, no, not right now. I just wanted to know how to do it."

  "That is how they operate," he said. "You have only to think that you need light, and they will illuminate." "Can they tell if I'm lying?" "No."

  I opened my eyes. It was pitch-dark, and I thought I could use a little light. I wanted to see his eyes again, anyway, though they seemed to glow all by themselves. Slowly, the stones in the walls and ceiling began to glimmer. "That is so cool!" I exclaimed. I looked up at the one on the ceiling and wished for it to grow dim— and it did. This was obviously what had occurred when I'd wanted to see his cock. I'd have to be more careful about what I wished for. "How do they do that?" I asked, making them brighten again.

  "No one knows," he replied.

  "Must be a market for them."

  "I believe they are a great source of the wealth of this region," he said. "Along with many other useful stones."

  "I wonder how many Scalia had to sell to buy the two of you? It must have been a lot."

  Tiger smiled at me and shook his head. He didn't know the answer to that.

  Looking up, I stole a peek at his eyes—eyes the same shade of blue as an eastern sky just before dawn: serenely beautiful, but at the same time, absolutely breathtaking.

  "You were worth every credit," I murmured. "Tell me, does Scalia like your eyes?"

  "Yes," he replied. "And she is very fond of our hair."

  "So am I," I sighed. "I've never seen anything like it. It's so beautiful."

  "As are you," he said gently. "Go to sleep now."

  So, my handsome tiger thought I was beautiful, did he? Wasn't that nice? It would be such a comfort to remember that when the guards dragged me off to the gallows for even thinking about consorting with one of the Queen's pets. I could almost feel the trapdoor giving way beneath my feet as I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 5

  I awoke the next morning with blazing sunlight in my

  eyes and the heat of the day only just beginning. Still in my dress from the day before, I remembered that I hadn't had a bath, or brushed my teeth, or even washed my face, and with all the sweating I'd done the day before, I felt pretty grungy. I got up to have a look around, think­ing that if this room had been specifically designed to house a human, there must be something there to pee in. I chuckled to myself as it occurred to me that the bath­room, like the lights, might suddenly appear whenever I had a need for it. Now, that would be a neat trick!

  Not so, as it turned out. It was a bit archaic, perhaps, but essentially what had been provided for me was a chamber pot in a small alcove next to the doorway be­tween this and an adjoining room. I smiled, thinking that Scalia's information must have been outdated, for such articles hadn't been in general use on Earth for about a thousand years. As I had suspected the night before, there was no running water, either, the cham­ber pot being about half-filled with sand. There was, however, a pitcher full of water and a basin on a stand beneath a mirror that hung upon the wall. My luggage was nowhere in sight, but when I opened a drawer that fitted neatly into a recessed area of the wall, I found that all of my clothes had been carefully folded and put away.

  The room itself was large, open, and airy, with no glass or screens on a pair of windows that looked out onto a garden in full bloom. I could see both the desert and, if I leaned out and looked to my left, the mountains in the distance. It already looked hot enough out there to scorch the soles of my feet—whether I had shoes on or not. Fortunately, it was much cooler in my room, and I found that I could walk barefoot without any trouble, the stone floor even feeling slightly chilly, making me glad that there were soft rugs on the floor by the bed.

  The bed frame was made of a highly polished wood, as was the cushioned bench set beneath the windows. Looking up, I saw that glowstones formed a spiral pat­tern on the high ceiling, which was liberally decorated with carved stone flowers. Near the window sat a table and chairs, both made of the same wood as the bed. I wondered if the wood was local or imported—given the climate, I was leaning toward imported. Overall, the decor of the room made me wonder where Scalia's in­formation on humans had come from, because it had a vaguely historical feel to it—almost as if I'd been set down in the middle of an old novel about a governess taking up a new post and finding her rooms to be far nicer than she had expected—or was accustomed to.

  Passing through an open doorway into another spacious room, I stopped short, nearly having another orgasm, for there, perched elegantiy on a dais, was a grand piano. And not just any grand piano—unless my eyes were deceiv­ing me, what stood before me was an antique Steinway. Where Scalia had found it was anyone's guess, but it had been manufactured on Earth, God only knew how many hundreds of years before. Sitting down on the bench, I ran my fingers over the keyboard and found it to be in perfect tune, with a rich tone and a light action on the keys. It was love at first sight.

  It had been weeks since I had played, and I hadn't realized until then just how much I'd missed it. Playing a sonata at random, I noted that the acoustics of the room were absolutely perfect—as if I were in a grand concert hall—and as the music swelled, filling the air with sound, I so lost myself in it that I didn't hear any­one enter. When the last notes died away, Zealon ap­plauded behind me—an odd sound, coming from those reptilian hands.

  "Oh, that was so beautiful!" she said reverently. "Will I ever be able to play like that?"

  "Someday," I said, turning to face her. "Provided you practice enough."

  "Oh, I will!" she assured me. "I'll start today!"

  "Sounds good," I said, "but let's wait until after breakfast, shall we?"

  "Breakfast?" she echoed. "What's that?"

  I stared at her in disbelief. "You know, the morn­ing meal? What you eat after you first get up in the morning?"

  "Here on Darconia we only eat once a day," she said. "In the evening."

  My stomach let out a loud snarl. "Humans eat more often than that," I said, my eyes undoubtedly growing round with horror. "Is there anything I can get at this hour? I'm starving!"

  Having sai
d that, I heard a sound coming from the other room. Frowning slightly, I got up from the piano and peered through the doorway. My tiger was in there—still wearing nothing but his two jeweled col­lars, by the way—setting out platters of food on the table from a heavily laden tray.

  I cast a withering look at Zealon. "Very funny," I said dryly. "You had me going there for a minute."

  Zealon doubled over, cackling with laughter. "I'm sorry!" she gasped. "But I love the way your face changes."

  "Those are facial expressions," I said loftily. "And this one," I added, narrowing my eyes and thinning my lips, "signifies marked disapproval."

  "I'll try to remember that."

  "See that you do."

  Following me to the door, Zealon let out a squeal of delight. "She's given you Tycharian?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Him," she replied, pointing at Tiger.