“I tried simu-sex once. It was bloody awful.”
“That desperate huh? It’s never a substitute for the real thing.”
Sam snorted. “Even I could tell that! I concentrated on my work and forgot about everything.”
“Truly?”
“No,” she sighed, studying John. “I was never Andy’s wife, just his prisoner, his toy. He kept robot-minders in the house, so I was under constant surveillance.”
“That’s why you’re frightened of robots? What did they do to you?”
“Followed their master’s orders.” She shivered. “When he returned home, I played the dutiful wife. Pain is a harsh teacher. Eventually, I couldn’t endure it, and one day, I decided to kill myself.” She smiled bitterly. “Tried to jump from the third level window.”
“As Tosca in the opera. Now I understand your choice of persona… Ah, honey-cat!”
“Tosca succeeded in her suicide, I did not. The robots stopped me. Andy was called home and in punishment, he broke the fingers of my right hand, my painting hand.”
John carefully reached out to stroke her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “You have pain there sometimes?”
“Sometimes. There’s nothing physically wrong. All in the mind.” She grimaced. “You wanted the truth. Truth is so cruel. It holds one back, it can twist you, send you mad. Or make you celibate.”
“Yes,” John said. “I know. And why you were so reticent to talk to me, to give me your real name, so you chose Tosca. A beautiful name, a beautiful opera—appropriate for you in all ways, Samantha, at least for the Samantha of the past. Never call yourself Tosca again. Please.”
Their gazes locked. “I promise,” she whispered.
“You told me your husband died, but never how.”
“He was killed on Luna, in a mining accident. That’s the official version. It…I only ever heard much later that he thought his moon-rover was a space-speeder. He’d sent a message over the sub-frequency. I was told he was drunk, but I think more likely drugged out on his latest hallucinogen. Anyway, he launched the rover into space and it reached altitude and then blipped out of existence. There one moment, gone the next. No body, no wreckage.”
“A moon-rover can’t take that sort of treatment. It would implode, Sam. His death would have been quick.”
“When I first received the news, I cried with relief. I was free. I thought I loved him once, but I know I didn’t. So, you see, I’m a cruel, heartless bitch.”
John shook his head. “No, Sammi. No. How can you be expected to grieve for a monster?”
“The day he died, I left the house. I just took the clothes I stood up in. His estate—I gave it all to Starwatch.” She closed her eyes tightly against the tears, but they trickled out between her clenched eyelids. John carefully lapped them up with his tongue.
“Hush, darling, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”
He stared down at her. Her words tore him apart. A cruel, heartless bitch—how it hurt him that she called herself this—when he knew the truth. If she was any less brave or strong, she might have become a Class A bitch—and he had known some in his life. No, Sammi had survived, remained vulnerable, gentle, considerate. He loved her in that moment with such intensity that he thought he would die of it.
He swallowed down his tears, the anger, the horror. He knew, of course, that any creature could be cruel, could inflict the greatest pain on another—sometimes because of love. But that was not true love, it was perversion.
And the recipient of abuse was sometimes crushed, so that nothing of the person remained. Within Sam there was strength and…so much more, if he had the ability to bring it forth.
The monster who had done this to her—lucky for him he was dead. If Sinclair still lived, he knew he would have hunted the human to the end of the universe—and beyond. And then the monster would know what pain and suffering truly meant, as only a felinus could inflict.
But the human-monster was dead and Sam, his beautiful Sam, was here beneath him.
John plotted a new strategy to touch her with all the love a felinus could offer, but in slow measures, over time. One thousand and one nights he had said before; it might be enough time. Might be… He sighed.
“Kuno, what I’ve told you, it makes no difference, does it?”
John snapped out of his reverie as he heard her words and the pain behind them. “It makes all the world of difference to me, Sammi.”
“Oh.”
He touched her lips with his tongue. “Because now I know you trust me enough to tell me this story and I can show you how to put the past where it belongs: in the past.”
“But I want to know about your past. You’ve told me your mother was human. It’s rare for a felinus to mate with an outsider, isn’t it?” Sam asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“Now is not the time.”
“You’re disgusted by what I’ve told you. I knew it.”
She went to move away, but he pinned her to the cushions, his body stretched full length over her.
“Yes, I’m disgusted, Samantha. At the cruelty, at your pain. I’m enthralled by your strength, I’m humbled that you would tell me the truth. Lies would have been much easier for you.” He kissed her gently.
She relaxed slowly against him. “So, then, I told you what you wanted to know, please reciprocate.”
“Love is what happened, Sammi. Love. It’s the most powerful force in the cosmos.”
“I rather thought hate was.”
“You’ve never known felinus love. If a felinus finds his or her soul-mate, no matter what, it’s a compulsion, a joy, that cannot be denied. Remember that! Against all convention my father mated with an off-worlder. A human. It was without precedent because he was…Duran. King.”
Shock washed through her. “You’re a Prince?”
“Yes, I’m san-Duran. A prince. But I’m also a half-breed, so I can’t inherit a kingdom. Harimal has that dubious honor and all the obligations that go with it.”
“Your brother? But…?”
“Hari’s mother was pure felinus. She was Sher-ean. A Felinus Princess. With her marriage, she became Queen, Deuran-sher. It was a mating of duty, never love. She was never Deuran-sher fe’tu—a King’s true wife.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Soon, one day you will.” John stroked her mouth with a fingertip. “She and my father divorced, seven years after Harimal was born. With an heir in safe-keeping, my father traveled off world. In this respect we are alike: we both find it difficult to be tied to one world. My father met my mother on Sirius. She was the Terran Ambassador. Once met—that was that.” John flicked the hair out of his eyes. “Six years ago my mother died in an accident. She was murdered.”
Sam gasped. “But who? Why?”
“We never discovered the who. As to why? A felinus king has enemies. My father never recovered from the shock of losing his fe’ha tu, his beloved wife.”
“He didn’t have that reaction when his first wife left him. I didn’t realize felinus divorced.”
“It’s rare.” John sighed. “Because most matings are for love. My father was King, so he was required to fuck for duty, to bed a woman he never loved. But with my mother, he found his soul-mate, his fe’ ha tu.”
“It would have been cruel and lonely for Hari’s mother, to be so denied.”
John smiled. “From all accounts she takes her lovers and her pleasure as she chooses and her greatest pleasure is that she is still called Queen. She lives in an off-world palace surrounded by a court that exists to grant her every wish. Power and position are, for some, even more important than love. I’m sure you understand that.”
“Oh yes.” Andy had confused control for love. Sam pushed back a golden lock from his forehead. “Your father is King?”
“No longer. He abdicated in favor of his brother, Hari’s uncle. My father was unable to rule. His soul was ripped from him; his heart beats, but he died with my mother. That
’s the fate of felinus when they lose their mate. Mostly they die and why we rarely mate outside felinus. Non-felinus don’t understand.”
“And your half-brother is a Prince? The heir apparent?”
“Yes.”
“But why did you become a sensualator and a pearl farmer? Broome of all places.”
“You’ve never been to Broome, despite the fact that Kuno did ask you and often. Once you see Broome, then you’d understand. The waters are crystal clear and the dolphins sing to me. Their song is the purest in the galaxy. Will you visit one day?”
“I’d like that.” She paused. “Why did you become a sensualator?”
“Why not?” He grinned, then his humor vanished. “No, I need to explain. Or try to. The truth is… I just had the calling. I walk in both worlds, sometimes at home in neither—there are many others who have this duality and it destroys them. I came to terms with my two selves, so I counsel others who have not reconciled their duality. I sometimes use sex to break down barriers; it can be a powerful healer.”
“If done properly.” She stroked his cheek.
“Yes.”
“So, will you explain to me why your parents didn’t come to help you when you were arrested for that ring surfing incident?”
“You’re not gonna let me forget that are you?”
“Nope.”
He sighed. “Sometimes having a one-track mind is a good thing, but not right now.”
Sam swiveled her hips against him. “Tell me.”
“Naughty kitten, are you enticing me?” He grinned. “My father was Duran first, husband second, father last. And he took his duty seriously. I can understand that now, in hindsight, but to a twelve year old kid and one whose hormones were out of kilter because of his blood, I wouldn’t ever listen to him. I was my father’s greatest embarrassment; a san-Duran in title only. I argued with him one day, and fled off-world. Suffice to say, before I was found, I did a lot of stupid things.”
“And your mother?”
“She convinced my father that I had to be free, that sometimes humans just can’t be expected to follow in their father’s pawprints. My mother was a good diplomat.” John laughed. “A very good one, in fact, she talked my father around her little finger many times. So, Hari bailed me out of trouble and took me to Aves where I grew up with the bird shifters. The agreement was I stay there until I was sixteen—that’s the felinus coming of age. Only I loved my clan and I received the tattoo you so admire. I remained with them until I was eighteen. Taren, my clan-brother will be here tonight. He’s anxious to meet you.”
“Right,” Sam said, running a finger over the indigo feather tattoo on John’s left hip, tracing the design to its end, at his buttock. “And you left Aves to become a sensualator because felinus blood and human mixed is a potent combination and the only way you could reconcile your two selves? And on Aves—what did you say before? That no one there cared what you were, or who? You meant your being a san-Duran? Or a sexy, naughty little beast?”
John laughed. “Yes, you understand that much. I like your description of me. I must remember to tell Taren. Sexy and naughty; I hope I live up to your expectations!”
Sam glared at him. “And so, now, as sensualator, you bring pleasure and joy, and receive it in turn.”
“No,” he replied. “My pleasure is all in the giving.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve got more questions.”
“Save them for later.”
“Just one more, then, okay?”
He smiled. “Yes?”
“Your mother didn’t mind being—what exactly was her status, if not Queen?”
“She was my father’s mate.” He paused. “It’s difficult to explain what it means. She was fe’ha tu, so much more than Queen, or wife, or mother…she was my father’s everything, as she was to him.”
“And why he nearly died when she did? You said she was murdered?”
“Yes. When my father brought her body home, he and the physician performed a crystal search—no!—I can’t explain that to you, other than to say it’s like an autopsy, but without any slicing and dicing.” He winced. “Her heart had been bruised in such a way that left no doubt. She had been assassinated. But who, we never discovered. My clan tried, believe me!”
“You think she was assassinated to get back at your father, to maybe depose him?” His silence was her answer. “I’m so sorry. Which would be worse? To have a parent die, or to watch a parent endure as a living corpse?”
John rubbed his cheek against hers. “You’re incredible, Sam, your understanding! Few felinus have made the connections you’ve just done.”
“Now, tell me—”
“Sam, you promised only one more question. I’ve indulged you too much.” He sighed, smiling ruefully. “I can sense a question lurking in that mind of yours…something dark, something you don’t want to ask, but have to. Well?” He touched his nose to hers. “Ask me, kitten.”
“If…if I wanted to leave now—?”
“I’m felinus, Samantha, not human! I don’t own you; I’d never restrain you from seeking your own life-journey. Kitten-mine, if you wanted to walk away from me, it would break my heart, but I would let you, if that’s what you wanted. Truly wanted. Be with me because it’s your wish. Felinus love freedom. We remain with our mates through choice. Love binds, but never holds one prisoner. Forget that bloody monster, he was the worst kind of human.”
“I can’t…sometimes…”
“You need a diversion.” He undulated his body to emphasize his intent.
“I want to know all about you.”
“You will.” He bent down to her neck and licked, biting her earlobe, swirling his tongue inside.
“John…?”
“Mmmm?”
“Let me soothe you.”
“Later.”
John eased out of her and rested on the cushions next to Sam, lightly teasing a finger over her stomach, She parted her legs thinking she knew his destination, but he ignored the apex of her thighs.
“Too obvious, honey-cat,” he said. “You ought to know by now that the femera is but one center of pleasure for a woman.”
“Femera? Is that the shifter word for…for…?”
“Yes. I prefer to use felin-speak because it has meanings within meanings. For outsiders it can’t be understood, these layers and complexities, but for a felinus and their lover—a world of connotations.”
“And what’s felin-speak for um…well, penis.” She flushed
“The word you seek is feena.”
Sam mouthed the word; soon she’d mouth him properly.
“Humans use the word ‘cock’.” He snorted. “What self-respecting cat would consider calling his most precious asset a cock—a male bird, for star’s sake? Honestly!”
“Your most precious asset, huh?” She bit back her laughter.
John’s eyes smiled, burning fire and hinting at more mischief to come. “Besides you, of course, kitten.”
“Oh, of course!”
His hand swept along her body. Occasionally he paused, to press a finger or a nail into her flesh, or to tease lightly with his fingertips. He bent over her, his hair sweeping across her, like a feather. That was the worst and the best of moments, this lightest touch that was almost a non-touch…
Watching him, alert to his every nuance, Sam saw that when she gasped at a place he caressed, he smiled.
“This is deliberate and unmerciful, Kuno.”
He lifted his head and raised a brow. “Of course. Look at me Sammi.”
“I’m looking.”
“Look at me, Samantha. Please.”
Swallowing, she did as he asked and saw his nostrils flare, the parting of his mouth, the depth of a breath. Another. She matched him breath for breath.
She smelled his sex: the felinus scent and the human: musk and ginger and man-spice.
Sam rested heavily against the cushions, breathing slowly, deeply. John’s exhalations matched her own.
Minutes later, when her breathing and her heart rate had returned to near-normal, she struggled up weakly from the cushions and rested on her elbows, watching John. He knelt between her splayed legs, smiling—a man’s knowing smile, but a deeper awareness in his eyes.
“What did you do?’ Sam whispered.
“I touched your ankle.” He went to press his finger into her again and she shifted her leg.
“I want an answer. If you do that to me, I can’t think straight.”
“That’s the idea.”
“John, are there are other places like this, where you press and I orgasm? Is it the same for you?”
“Yes.”
“Will you show me, so I can do it for you, too?”
“I might. This sharing of knowledge, Sam, it’s not done lightly. This is a felinus secret. If used incorrectly, such can kill.”
“Because death and orgasm are so closely linked, that they are each a taste of the other.”
John regarded her in shocked disbelief. “That’s a felinus axiom. Where did you hear it?”
“It just came to me, John, but it’s true, isn’t it? The old French called the orgasm, la petite mort: the little death. And with you, it is. When I awaken from the climax, I feel re-born.”
“You amaze me, Sam.” He teased her ankle again.
“Will you show me more?”
“Each day a new point.”
“Let me do this to you. Lie down, kitty-cat.”
“I’m not a kitty-cat.”
“You’re gonna be.”
Sam knelt between his legs and lightly touched the place above the ankle. And waited. Nothing. She frowned, trying again.
“Samantha—ying, yang. Male, female. Opposites.”
She thought for a moment, then moved her finger to the outer ankle of his right foot and pressed.
With a cry, John lifted.
Encouraged, Sam pressed harder, twirling her finger around his ankle. She gripped his foot with her other hand, her fingers splayed. She went to press again.
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