Tempting Flame (The Jendari Book 1)

by DJ Michaels

  How could she? Nothing she knew could prepare her for what was about to happen. "Where's the white powder?"

  "Here."

  His tongue felt thick, and his words were beginning to slur. "When I phase, the bleeding will start again. Find the wound and pour the power on straight from the bottle—don't press with your hand like you did in the car."

  "Okay."

  "All right." His head fell back, his muscles too weak to hold it up. There was a moment of nothingness as he blacked out. He came to with Jaz shaking his shoulder.

  "Tallis. Tallis!"

  "I'm here. Just don't panic." The blackness came for him again and he knew he was out of time. "Do what I asked. And don't leave me."

  Before she could reply he began to sing. Exhausted, out of breath, and barely conscious he sang his song and allowed the power of the Goddess to fill him. Gathering his last reserves of energy, he threw everything he had into the phase.

  ****

  Jaz was a mess. She was terrified, confused, and she'd been crying non-stop for the last half hour. Everything in her wanted to call nine-one-one and she was cursing herself for leaving the hospital when she should have just bundled Tallis into the elevator and found them a doctor.

  But he'd been so adamant. So determined that she do as he asked. She didn't know enough about him or his situation to make an informed decision, but as he lay bleeding on his penthouse floor she questioned everything. She didn't know what to do, she had no one to call, and it felt as though her only option was to follow Tallis's garbled instructions.

  And he'd begged her not to leave him. Leave him? What kind of a heartless bitch did he think she was? She was about to reach out to him, to offer him some comfort, when the air around him shimmered and … thickened … until it was opaque. When the air cleared Tallis was gone and a huge black cat lay on the floor. And not the domestic kind of cat, either. This was the wild, predatory kind found in zoos and animal reserves, behind reinforced glass and high fences. Only this cat was much, much bigger.

  She was scrambling to her feet before her brain kicked in and somehow she ended up crouching on the sofa with one hand on the back rest, ready to leap to safety.

  The cat stared up at her and there was something in its eyes, some kind of intelligence or recognition. He made a strange huffing sound and, while it was by no means a whimper, she somehow understood the beast was in pain.

  Then her brain finally caught up, putting together the impossible event she'd just witnessed with the instructions Tallis had given her. It's still me, he'd said.

  "Tallis?"

  A weak nod.

  "Oh, my god." She eased off the couch and edged closer. "Is it really you?" Another nod. Holy fucking hell in a hand basket. All kinds of myth, legend and fiction had just come to life right in front of her eyes and she was so deep in shock she couldn't feel her arms or legs. Hoping she could still function while having an out-of-body experience, Jaz smoothed her sweaty hands down her skirt and tried to swallow. "Okay. You were a man, and now you're a big, black cat. I can totally deal." Please god, let her be able to deal.

  Any wonder Tallis begged her not to panic—she could feel the hysteria coming at her like a freight train. Breathing hard she squeezed her hands into fists and tried to scrounge up some courage. When she spoke, her voice came out high and tight. "Do you still need me to put the white powder on your wound?"

  Nod.

  Okay, one thing at a time. Easing a bit closer she held out her hand. "Don't bite me or scratch me or anything." She didn't add "don't kill me" but she figured that was implied.

  Kneeling as close as she dared to cat-Tallis's body, she took the bottle of powder from her skirt pocket. "I'll try not to hurt you, okay?" A deep chest rumble this time. As if she had any clue what that might mean.

  Running a gentle hand over the cat's silky head, she quickly located the bullet wound in his neck. Uncapping the bottle she tipped the equivalent of a palm full onto the blood-soaked fur and sent up a silent prayer.

  Cat-Tallis flinched and his whole body rippled. For a full minute his muscled locked tight and he set up a low, constant growl. Jaz scrambled away and waited well out of snapping and scratching distance, heart pounding and blood roaring in her ears. Eventually the spasms left his body and he sagged into the floor.

  Hoping the worst was over, Jaz—dry-mouthed and shaking—crept forward until she was in the cat's line of sight "You okay?" Nod. "Can I get you anything?" Shake. Damn, this Q and A was pretty useless. "Do you need to rest?" Nod.

  They were both quiet for a moment, cat-Tallis lying on the floor, his sides heaving under his labored breath. Jaz, on the other hand, was panting for an entirely different reason. She was scared shitless. Crouching close but not too near, it finally occurred to her that cat-Tallis understood her enough to communicate. Which in turn suggested that she was safe, as he'd promised.

  There was no doubt he was in terrible pain and—though it took a while—her compassion finally outstripped her cowardice. Tentatively she reached out and stroked her hand down his shoulder, trying to offer what comfort she could. His whole body quivered and he edged closer, the movement eliciting a pain-filled whimper.

  "Shh. It's okay." Emboldened, Jaz planted her butt on the floor and wriggled until she closed the distance between them. Tallis's huge head lifted and he lowered it none too softly on her lap. Slowly moving until she was comfortable, Jaz stroked over Tallis's head and shoulders, careful to avoid his wound. His fur was as black as night and so thick and soft it was like stroking warm silk. He nuzzled closer, heaved a noisy sigh, and then his whole body relaxed.

  She kept stroking and Tallis started to purr, a deep, gut-level rumble that turned her bones liquid. But not in a bad way. Petting as much of him as she could reach, she continued on long after the purring stopped and he slipped into what she hoped was a healing sleep.

  Eventually her legs grew numb from lack of circulation. When the discomfort became unbearable, she eased Tallis's head to the floor and crawled over to the couch. Her whole world had just turned upside down and she couldn't seem to pin down a rational thought.

  So she did what she always did in a crisis. She nurtured.

  When she finally regained control of her limbs she stood up and pulled a pillow from the sofa to put under his head to make him more comfortable. Then she grabbed a lightweight blanket from the back of a chair and covered the sleeping cat.

  Kneeling on the floor she looked down at him as he slept. The confusing mix of feelings— fear, care, frustration, and responsibility—swirled inside her with a familiar beat. Caretaking was the one thing she was good at, the one thing that made people sit up and take notice of a too quiet, too round, too soft woman.

  She should be good at it, she supposed. She'd begun training at the age of twelve when her little sister had been diagnosed with leukemia.

  Jaz shook her head and climbed to her feet. She had enough drama to contend with in the here and now, she didn't need to borrow any heartache from her past.

  As she looked down to tidy herself she realized she was covered in Tallis's blood. It had come out of him a muddy green, but it had dried hard and black on her clothing. She needed to shower and change, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Tallis alone while she drove back to her place. Hoping he'd forgive the intrusion, she went in search of a bathroom.

  The large open-plan living room had a wall of windows that offered a spectacular view of Central Park and the iconic New York skyline. The vast room boasted comfortable furniture, a veritable forest of potted plants, and wall art that she now knew showcased his home world.

  From where she stood she could see the gleaming, state-of-the-art kitchen that was bigger than her entire apartment. Turning in the opposite direction, Jaz walked across the polished hardwoods to a wide entrance that led to a lofty hallway. The first room she came to looked like a study, and the second room was quite clearly the master suite.

  The polite, well brought up side of her perso
nality urged Jaz to find the guest room. But the willful, curious side of her encouraged her feet to keep moving forward. Before she could talk herself out of it she found herself standing in the middle of Tallis's bedroom. The floor to ceiling windows shared the same view as the lounge area, and bathed the room in light.

  The space was vast and, like the other rooms she'd seen, there were plants everywhere. Thick cream-colored rugs covered the floor and heavy, masculine furniture dominated the room. The side boards, dressers and bed were made of dark wood elaborately carved with twisting vines and fat, plump leaves. The soft furnishings were in muted tones of green, maroon and cream and the fabrics were luxurious swathes of velvet, silk and brocade. Tallis's bed looked big enough for four people and the abundance of pillows and an artfully arranged throw rug almost begged a person to climb in and snuggle down.

  Dragging her eyes from the temptation, Jaz crossed to the far side of the room and opened one of the doors. A walk-in dressing room (again, bigger than her apartment) loomed in almost-empty glory. Tallis's clothes hung neatly on the rail, but they barely took up a quarter of one wall. On the other side of the wall were cupboards and shelving, and the wall at the far end was empty except for a strange-looking plant with black, glossy leaves.

  Jaz blinked and walked forward, unable to resist the urge to see if the plant was real. Sure enough, the leaves were cool and vibrant under her fingers. Who ever heard of a plant that could thrive in a closet? Even one as big and luxurious at this one. Figuring it had to be a plant native to Jendar, Jaz turned back to the shelving to see if she could pilfer something to wear.

  Spying what looked like a stack of t-shirts, she picked up the top one and shook it out to assess it for size. Holding it against herself, the fabric covered her from her neck to the top of her knees. She was tall and curvy, and she'd never been able to wear her boyfriends' shirts. Not that Tallis was her boyfriend, but wearing his shirt satisfied something feminine deep inside her. Perhaps it was because when she read a romance novel, she always envied the heroines who wore nothing but their lover's shirt.

  As soon as she had her shower, she was going to get a little taste of what that might be like.

  She couldn't quite resist the urge to bring the fabric to her face and take a long deep breath. It smelled of sunshine and washing powder, and maybe just a hint of Tallis.

  Clutching the t-shirt, she walked deeper into the closet until she came to the opening that led into the master bath. She paused in the doorway, her brain taking a moment to fully comprehend the dazzling size and scale of the room.

  The walls were covered in embossed cream tile. The ubiquitous floor-to-ceiling windows were frosted, letting in an amazing amount of light. The tub was the size of a small pool and the walk-in, multi-headed shower took up most of the wall on the opposite side of the room. Thick, velvety towels hung on warming racks and the double sinks sparkled in the diffused light.

  It was as gorgeous as the rest of the penthouse, but there was something very sensual about the bathroom and the bedroom. Perhaps it was because these rooms were so very obviously Tallis's personal space.

  Moving near the double sink, Jaz placed the clean t-shirt on the spotless counter. Then she stripped off her dirty clothes, folding them neatly and placing them in the far corner of the marble bench top. She tried to avoid looking at her naked body in the wall mirror as she searched for a clean towel. The lower cabinets revealed a colorful array of spares so she snagged one and hung it on a rail just outside the shower stall. Turning on the water she twitched the tap until the temperature was perfect, then she stepped under the powerful spray. She took her time, washing herself with the slightly grainy body wash she found in a tiled alcove in the wall, and using what she hoped was shampoo and conditioner on her hair.

  Once she was clean she lingered, trying to sort through the shocking events of the last few hours while the water ran warm and soothing over her body. Her mind went round and round until she was dizzy, but when she finally turned off the shower and stepped out to dry herself she was none the wiser.

  And it wasn't as if this was the first time she'd had her beliefs challenged.

  When the aliens had arrived eighteen months ago, there wasn't a human being on Earth who didn't have their mind blown. Everything that was known to be true was up for grabs and the adjustment to the facts of alien life had been rocky. She was no exception. Jaz had struggled to reconcile her new world view just like everyone else.

  But more than a year down the track, the aliens were an accepted part of her world. They were here and they were staying, and most of the planet seemed ready to move forward in the new reality. But shape-shifters? Aliens with the ability to change from man to cat and back again? That was a whole new world of freaky and mind-boggling. She could hardly believe it and she'd seen it with her own eyes.

  Blowing out a resigned breath, Jaz yanked the oversized t-shirt over her head. As she headed into the kitchen to find something to eat she wondered how many humans knew about the Jendari's alternate form. And, more importantly, what would it mean for her now that she was included in that number?

  Chapter Seven

  Glen Tucker, spokesman for the Humans for Earth Coalition, was in his office on a Saturday afternoon. Nothing unusual about that. What was unusual, was that today he was being kept company by United States Senator Jonathan Prescott III.

  Glen and the senator had spent plenty of time together. In fact it was the senator who had recruited Glen when HEC was in its infancy.

  Together and individually they'd expanded the coalition, bringing together hundreds of disparate groups and wielding them into a single entity. He and the senator had lobbied and cajoled individuals and groups. They'd appeared as guest speakers and chaired meetings, they'd tied on aprons at cook-outs and marched in parades. It took almost six months of constant work, but by the time they were done the Humans for Earth Coalition had become a beacon for the frightened and disenfranchised human population.

  When the aliens first arrived on Earth, people were scared. Nobody knew what the Jendari wanted, or if they posed a direct and immediate threat. It took months for the dust to settle, and even longer for humanity to acclimatize to the new reality.

  The Jendari built towers in major cities across the world, and those tightly controlled hubs were the only point of interaction. The aliens guarded their advanced tech, they made no effort to integrate, and their promise of superior medicines had yet to eventuate. Glen didn't trust any of them, and he didn't believe for one minute that the Jendari would continue to live in their tiny pockets of wilderness.

  Sooner or later, they'd be coming for the human race, and Glen and people like him needed to be ready. The threat the aliens posed was quiet, insidious, and very real.

  The leaders of the HEC weren't scare-mongers or assholes who were just out to exploit other people. They were men and women who had the ability and the will to fight for what they believed in.

  But this battle wasn't to preserve the freedom of the United States, it was to preserve the integrity of the entire world. And in that, he and the senator were on the same page. They were both men of duty. Glen had served twenty years in the marines and the senator had spent his whole adult life in public service.

  The two of them made an effective team though they were very different on the surface. Senator Jonathan Prescott was a forty-year-old African-American, clean cut and handsome. He wore hand-made bespoke suits and he sat on the Forbes Fortune 500 list. His beautiful, highly educated wife and their children had appeared with him in all of the up-market magazines.

  And to his credit, the senator never made Glen feel anything less than his equal. Whether that egalitarian attitude was the truth of how Jonathan felt or whether it was part of his political bag of tricks, Glen was never sure. But really, as long as the work got done, the motivation didn't matter.

  "Can I get you another drink, Senator?"

  "No, thank you." Jonathan bent his left arm to check the time on h
is Breguet timepiece. Nothing flashy of course, the senator preferred elegance to ostentation. "They shouldn't be too far out now."

  "About ten minutes, I would think." Glen ran his hand over his short, slightly silvering hair. He'd done plenty of waiting around in the Marines—when prepping for missions it was all "hurry up and wait". But this situation was different. This time he was calling all of the shots, with no oversight and no safety net. If this mission went pear-shaped, if his men were injured or worse, the blame would reside squarely at his feet.

  Jonathan leaned back into the guest chair, his face calm and not so much as a toe-tap to show if he was nervous or not. "If this endeavor is successful, are you going to increase the numbers in our militia?"

  It was a question Glen had asked himself on more than one occasion. "Not at this stage. It takes time and training to get individuals to work as a single unit. Plus, the fewer men we have, the easier it is to keep them under wraps."

  Most of the militia were ex-military, but a few were still on active service. When Glen set up the unit he promised his men he would protect their identities, and by god that was a promise he intended to keep.

  The muffled ding of the elevator echoed into the quiet office. "They made good time," Glen said, rising to his feet. Like the senator, he too wore a suit—expensive but certainly not bespoke—and he buttoned his jacket, keeping his eyes on the doorway.

  He knew his operatives were uninjured because they'd called in to give the all-clear code. But that was all he knew. Despite purchasing the latest anti-surveillance equipment, none of them assumed their lines were secure. It was one of the reasons the senator was here in person.

  The other reason, of course, was this was their first real mission. And who wouldn't want to be at ground zero for that?

  When his operative, Sal Ortega, entered the room with a nodded greeting, Glen took his first deep breath for the afternoon. At twenty-seven, Sal was ten years younger than Glen, but he had the haunted eyes of a man much older. Sometimes special-ops could do that to a soldier.