Starlight Complete

by Astrid Cooper

  “Do that thing you do with your fingers, Kuno. You know, that new point.”

  “This?” he whispered, finding her perineum. He stroked, aimed and pressed. Her knees jerked. “Got it in one, did I, kitten?” He smiled, locking his gaze with hers. “Again. But different.”

  Sam saw stars.

  When consciousness returned, she found she was on the floor, lying across John, the cushions beneath them, around them. One had been shredded by claws. Had John morphed to cat during the ecstasy?

  She settled over him and rode him hard and fast; his smile was crooked as he watched her having her pleasure. His hands skimmed over her flesh, teasing, finding sex points, ruthlessly plundering each one. She gasped, she cried, she moaned.

  Starlight beckoned. The crystal chamber around them sparkled, spinning with color, with light, with sound. The gem hanging between her breasts chimed, warming her skin. The ethereal light-web erupted around them, pulsing with green and silver and purple lights.

  John stilled a moment and then thrust, so slowly, a tease that lasted forever. “Sammi!” he cried. Again, he spilled into her, and she bore down, accepting his gift. His tentative mind-probe begged for convergence.

  Instinctively, she snapped the mind-lattice closed. “No. Please. No. Just not ready, cat-boy.” She kissed him to take the sting from her words, but she saw his eyes mist with tears. Fleetingly, his pain, his horror at her denial sliced through her, before he clamped down his own feelings and thoughts.

  He slid deeper inside her, aiming to the right. Pulled back, returned, aiming to the left. Again, he retreated, returned, stroking deep into her center.

  He loved her, giving her everything, but deep within she caught his frustration, his shock that she refused the touch he craved—convergence. To be one with her, to unite mind, body and spirit. To taste the soul-touch, the schahor.

  His passion burning within brought her to peak, to climax and when the fire eventually extinguished, he closed his eyes with a sigh.

  Ah, Sammi-mine.

  “I’m so glad you remember my name.”

  He smiled. “How could I forget, she who is my wife? She who is my life?” He rolled her over and settled a thigh across her legs, and kissed her face and neck; a gentle cat-bite to the base of her throat. “Sammi?”

  “Mm?”

  “I’ve a gift for you.”

  “And what you just gave me wasn’t?”

  Nuzzling her cheek, he smiled. “Something special.” He reached to the covered bowl beside the rug and lifted the lid. He removed something from the vessel and placed it on her navel.

  Sam stared down. It was a piece of jewelry, a gold ring, coiled around a gold heart shaped gem.

  John lifted it, holding it between his fingers. The light within the cave was captured on the jewel, making it sparkle. “This is a Chizan pearl. Rare and precious, as you are so rare and precious to me, Samantha. It’s my mutatis gift. I’ll pierce your flesh, and affix it to you.”

  “Does every mated couple have such?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “But they’re rarely worn for all to see.”

  Sam flushed. “We’re talking about private body piercing?”

  He laughed gently. “It’s an option. Felinus aren’t that extreme, Avenor are, though.”

  “That figures.” She paused, her gaze locking with his. “What do you want to pierce?”

  “Let it be a surprise.” He smiled. “Now, I’ll become the cat for you.”

  Sam watched as the colors of a Chizan rainbow shimmered over his body, molding itself to him like a second skin. For a moment she saw John superimposed over a pony-sized black and gold cat and then the felinus stood over her, his head lowered to her navel, his green-gold gaze fierce upon her.

  “Kuno! You’re beautiful.”

  Prrrrrr. Thank you, kitten-mine.

  The morph-field shimmered around him and Sam watched, fascinated, as she saw the mix of man and cat, before felinus gained ascendancy.

  He growled and lowered his face to her belly and licked, the abrasive cat tongue making her shiver with pleasure. He purred.

  Kitten likes that?

  Kitten does.

  Man-laughter joined with cat-growl to tease her mind. Another swipe of the tongue. The cat sat back on its haunches, and Sam saw human and felinus shifting. He held the morph, suspended between man and cat. From a furred arm, human fingers extended to gently lift the skin at the side of her navel. The cat head lowered, fangs bared, gently nudging at her flesh. He bit, so fast, so sharp, she had hardly time to register the pain, before the ring was inserted into her skin. A lap of cat tongue sealed the wound.

  She gasped at the zzzing-bite racing up her spine.

  The mark of mutatis, kitten.

  Kuno!

  That is my name!

  The cat stood over her and growled in utter possession of her—his mate. He straddled her body and licked her cheek, purring, rubbing his face against hers. The velvet of his fur and the prickle of his whiskers and the rasp of his hot tongue was a delicious contrast that made her heart scud in her chest, while her body erupted, blazing and moist, shivering with need.

  He morphed back to human, kneeling between her thighs. Two fingers sought her and slowly teased inside. Their gazes locked and he smiled, watching her as she erupted beneath his touch.

  Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she saw the male smile of triumph in his eyes and on his lips. She swallowed down hard, forcing herself to calm, to prolong the moment, but inside the need for release was building. His fingers flicked again and she shivered.

  “Stop that, Kuno, I can’t think.”

  “That’s the idea, kitten-mine.”

  She exhaled long and slow. John’s fingers twirled. She gasped.

  “Better, Sam. Stop fighting it. Let go.”

  She raised herself up on her elbows and stared down at the navel ring. “I don’t have a gift for you.”

  “No?” He smiled. “I feel your essence over my fingers. Stop blushing, Shari-mine. What you give me is a woman’s gift.”

  Her mouth went desert dry at the purr of his words, the sultry dark gaze. “You’ve given me a mutatis gift, Kuno. I want to give you something in return, besides essence.”

  “Then lie back and enjoy—”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “Why are you so intractable?”

  “Why are you so single-minded?”

  “Ah.” He winked. “Because I’m a cat.”

  “Impossible.”

  John laughed gently, reached across her and removed something from the dish. He held it up to her gaze. Sam saw a gold ring identical to the one she now wore in her flesh.

  “Kitten, will you pierce me, now?”

  “I don’t have any fangs to bite your skin.”

  From the dish, John drew out a long needle. Sam regarded it, then him, horrified.

  “I can’t Kuno! I’ll hurt you. And besides, that needle isn’t sterile.”

  “Within this cave, wife-of-mine, all wounds seal within minutes of being inflicted. No infections. It’s a place of healing, not disease.” His eyes narrowed. “Take the needle, Sam. Do it, please.” He rested on his knees, hands at his sides.

  Sitting up, she leaned forward and kissed his stomach, swirling her tongue across his skin, daring a teasing lick lower. He trembled against her.

  With shaking fingers, she took the needle and carefully lifted a piece of skin at the edge of his navel. Before her courage failed her, she plunged the point into his flesh. He gasped but did not flinch.

  Carefully, she inserted the gold wire into the puncture and snapped the fixture closed. On her fingertip, she caught the drop of blood from her own piercing and merged it with the blood from his wound. “Now our blood is one, husband-of-mine. United.”

  “We are one. Finally, the ceremony is complete.”

  Sam heard the utter fatigue beneath his words, and saw, as if for the first time, the shadows beneath his eyes, the torment in his s
pirit.

  He smiled and kissed her. Taking her in his arms, he lay beside her.

  She pushed back a strand of his gold-blonde hair from his face. “You haven’t slept much since we got home. Rest, now.”

  His right eye opened a fraction, and he smiled. “If you sleep on me.”

  “Okay, but you promise to sleep?”

  “Mm.”

  Within moments of lying over him, John’s body relaxed and his breathing deepened, slowed.

  While he slept, she touched his mouth, stroking her fingers up his cheek. She smoothed his hair around his shoulders, marveling at its beauty: felinus-golden, red and black-streaked, with the texture of silk, the colors like a rainbow of fire. So different from Hari, and so alike…

  The memories returned, haunting, painful, as sharp as the starlord’s talons, and just as poisonous.

  And within John’s relaxed mind, a tendril of thought escaped, drifting out to her.

  My kitten has been with Harimal. A full-blooded felinus. What woman could be satisfied with a hybrid? Is that why she rejects me?

  Sam reeled mentally and physically. Is that what John feared? That he could no longer satisfy her? That he could not compete with Harimal?

  Kuno, if only you knew…if only…

  There was only one way she could convince him of the depth of her love, through convergence. And she could not—dare not—risk that.

  Standing, she forced herself to walk away, when inside all she wanted was to stay. John had been wrong. Within the crystal cave, pain and disease lurked…the horror of what she was. No power in the universe could absolve her.

  Her gaze lingered upon him, seeing him at peace, his long lean body open, vulnerable, the gem twinkling at his navel. The sight of him, his beauty, her love for him tore her apart.

  Weary beyond words, she climbed the stairs and returned to the palace.

  In their apartment, Sam bathed again. Never would she feel clean, no matter how hard she scrubbed. Her fingers brushed the mutatis gem at her navel and for a moment her horror abated.

  She’d had the counseling, as the other survivors, those who could manage it, and of course her intellect understood, but her heart and soul could not accept what had been done to her—the betrayal of all that she was, the warped exploitation. Her acquiescence in the monster’s depravity. What counseling could wash away all that?

  She knew that others wondered at the extent of the starlord’s cruelty, but dared not ask. Weren’t the bodies of the victims enough? Which spoke more eloquently of the horrors faced? The dead, or the walking dead?

  How much did the curious want to know to be appeased?

  John had not asked. He probably did not need to—he’d have seen enough in that mind-healing initiation while she was brought home.

  She often caught the Chizan servants regarding her surreptitiously as she walked in the gardens. She was trailed by Zeren and Aarn, the two youths who had become her self-appointed attendants. They stayed close to her when John was called away to use his sensualator skills to help another former prisoner through a crisis.

  John’s counseling for her consisted of kisses and caresses and gentle coaxings. Occasionally, his strategy worked. At night, she found herself recounting fragments of incidents, as they lay on their bed, while the rest of the palace slept.

  During these times, she remembered Harimal, spoke softly about him, smiled, and then the horror kicked in as she remembered. John’s enticements would begin anew when her tears abated.

  Tears were good he said and between them, they shared many.

  Andy, Sam discovered, had been healed of his wounds, then imprisoned and monitored, but his mind was too fractured to be held legally culpable and so, no trial was ordered. He would be insane for the rest of his life, as would some others from the prison.

  Geraj’s son had died of his insanity, still in his cell. Once his obedience collar had been removed, he had morphed to cat, shredding his own body with his claws, before his rescuers could stop him. Learning of his son’s fate, Geraj had been devastated and had pleaded guilty to all charges before the Justiciary and was expected to turn prosecution witness. Geraj would be imprisoned on the outer Chizan moon. Herrall had insisted on this—no felinus could survive captivity away from his own kind. The King showed as much mercy as he could—and some said he showed too much.

  A mourning ceremony for those who had died was enacted while she had lain asleep in the crystal cave.

  Sam sighed, her fingers again stroking the mutatis gem.

  Tomorrow there would be a ritual for Harimal and because she had been with him at the last, she was expected to take part. Her one final duty to Hari would be to honor him.

  He had given his life in the transporter machine, his hands around the starlord’s throat, so that the universe could be free of that feegling monster.

  Sam scrubbed harder at her body, as if to peel away the skin, to shred the memories.

  What a bloody mess. It had shattered the galactic worlds to the core that it could have happened in the first place; that a starlord had survived the war. That somehow GTC had manipulated events for its own profit; that officials within the Galactic Council had been negligent, or actual conspirators. The Justiciary and the Diplomatic Service were trying to unravel conspiracies within conspiracies—the who, what and how.

  Sam snapped her mind closed, scratching at her skin. Her nails left furrows, and some bled.

  Stepping from the bathing pool, drying herself beneath the warm scented air of the dryer, Sam returned to the bedroom.

  She frowned at the freshly-made bed, with its embroidered velvet coverlet, smooth, flat, its normalcy concealing secrets and betrayals—her secrets and her betrayals—in a place where neither should exist.

  Last night, John had tried to love her, but she had turned her back on him. He had rested on his elbow, watching her, asking, then pleading with her to tell him what was wrong, what he could do to soothe her.

  “Nothing,” she had said, hating herself for her weakness.

  As she had lain awake beside him, stroking, he had wept in his sleep. But how could she give him what he craved? The convergence. Because within her, in that level of starlight, there now lurked a monster.

  She had wanted to give him the soul-touch in the crystal cave, but the fear of what she might do, again, made her deny him. And John believed he wasn’t cat enough to satisfy her. The thought made her grimace and made her feel doubly wretched.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirror. A horror stared back at her. Even three weeks of intensive cosseting had failed to make much difference, nor the new hair style, the square cut framing her face, touching her shoulders. She was too slim and when John had said he would fatten her up, she had burst into tears.

  He had wept with her, not understanding.

  The familiar man-cat musk infiltrated, drawing her thoughts to the present. She heard his bare feet slap the tiles behind her. So attune to him, she heard the swish of his hair across his naked shoulders, felt the velvet texture scrape across his skin, as if it was her hair and her skin…

  Their gazes locked in the mirror. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He smiled and padded towards her, his robe flapping around him, the silk whispering, his hair swishing across his shoulder blades. Hair and eyes the color of golden fire.

  He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her body against him, his hands splayed over hers. His fingers stroked. He kissed her nape and rubbed his cheek against that erotic zone, a tongue tip teasing. He breathed over her skin.

  “My fe’ha tu, when are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Why did you leave me in the crystal chamber to wake up alone?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “I’m only a dumb old cat-boy. Nothing is obvious to me.”

  She laughed. She hadn’t forgotten to laugh and John was master at evoking a smile, a laugh from her. He tried so damn hard to return her to how she had been. If only…

  “I’m sorry
, I needed to be alone.”

  “You’ve been too long alone, I—”

  “I’m not the woman you knew, Kuno.”

  “Of course not, sweetheart.” He smiled, but Sam saw the indecision in his eyes. “Then if you won’t say it, I will. I know there is a child within you. Our child.”

  Her gaze flew to his in the mirror. “But…how do you know?” She paused, swallowing against the tight panic in her throat. “It…it might not be yours.”

  “You think it could be Hari’s? Even if that were true, I would not love it the less, or you.” He shook his head. “No, kitten-mine, the child is ours. I was going to tell you that day of mutatis. Life begins anew in that moment and sometimes the male releases with the mutatis, despite precautions. It happens. I lost control and the seed implanted in you. I could not tell you, explain, because of…oh stars!”

  The image flared from memories long denied, of John being shot by Andy and left for dead.

  Against her, he trembled. So, she wasn’t the only one to have hidden demons gnawing. “Kuno?”

  “Yes, beloved.” His arms tightened around her.

  “I…I realize that with Harimal dead, you are the last Ronsevaal, besides your father. I know about bloodlines. Chizan would expect the heir apparent to have a felinus wife, not some mongrel human who can’t even tell you her real family name.”

  She heard his sharp intake of breath. His anger spiraled out to touch her.

  “Bloodlines are for dogs or horses,” he snapped. His narrowed gaze was heavy and direct, unmerciful, fingers tightening around her arms. “Is that what worries you? You think I’ll leave you for another? Kitten, you’re sometimes so human! You doubt me even after mutatis? Look at the gem in your belly, the child within you. These are my gifts, my promises. I’ll never leave you. And you’ll never leave me.”

  “John…”

  “Don’t John me, Samantha. You are my fe’ha tu. Do I have to prove it again?”

  “You’re angry.”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Just give me time. I need—”

  “What you need, wife-of-mine, is a diversion. Let me love you so much that you can’t think straight.”

  She smiled, her body flaming at his words. “I can never think straight when you starlight me.” Stars, how she loved this man, could never get enough of him. If only…