by J P Sayle
Unsure how to make it better, Maximillian threaded through Óláfr’s trembling legs. The dark stains on his clothing stood out against the light of the big fire sitting in the hearth. Pushing away his distaste at having to touch the sodden cloth and fur, he wound his way up his body, sidestepping the worst bits where he could.
His mind was trying hard to find a way to discuss what had happened outside without making matters worse.
Should I even be speaking to Óláfr about the soul inside me?
He wanted to meow in frustration, holding it in when he knew Óláfr wouldn’t understand and might question him. He groaned at the indecision he felt. He made a decision, hoping he was doing the right thing. Listening to his intuition, he spoke.
“Óláfr, come rest. There is nothing more that can be done now. I heard your promise to Magnus, and I hope you will find a way to keep it.” Avoiding making eye contact, he watched out the side of his eye the misery flash into the depths of Óláfr’s watery eyes. Red and bloodshot, they looked to him for reassurance as he sent the one question Maximillian could not answer. Could Óláfr, in the future make amends for what he had done?
He ignored the question he couldn’t answer. Feeling his superstitious nature rise, Maximillian crossed his paws, hoping he had made the right choice for both of them. He hoped against all hope that they would fulfil the promise sooner rather than later because now their future happiness was infinitely tied to Óláfr’s commitment.
August 1998
Max stirred, feeling Aaden’s mind start to waken. The memories of the night before still hung between them. Max took a hard look at Aaden, praying that this would be the final time, that he could put an end to the hundreds of years of failure.
Am I trying to convince myself something is different this time? The time he’d spent stewing overnight on the past made him wonder if it was different this time. No, I did. By the God Njord and the Goddess Freyja, I did. It was different this time. He may not know why, but his senses alerted him to something that had him anticipating the coming years when Aaden would become a man.
Feeling warm hands stroke down his back, digging in just hard enough to make him purr in pleasure, he arched under Aaden’s large hands, forgetting his worries.
He recognised it was time for their conversation, for him to explain some of his purposes. Shifting under the warm hands, he looked directly into Aaden’s dark eyes that reminded him so much of Óláfr’s. The urge to tell him everything, as he’d never done with Óláfr or the others, hit him right in the solar plexus and made him mewl in distress.
Aaden’s large body started. Sitting up far too quickly, he dislodged the warm duvet under Max, propelling him towards the floor. He landed in an unexpected heap, and the loud disgruntled meow had laughing dark eyes peer over the side of the bed, just as giggles erupted from across the room.
Disgruntled, Max got up, shaking off the stinky T-shirt covered in semen now stuck to his behind, shuddering in disgust when the scent clung to his fur. He glowered up at Aaden’s broad-grinning face, purposely ignoring Nick in the opposite bed.
“You need to be mindful, young man, if you don’t want me dragging that dirty T-shirt over to your brother.” Max stuck his nose in the air with a happy smirk when Aaden gave him an alarmed look a second before he cast a wary glance at Nick. Max felt like patting himself on his back when he noticed that Aaden’s thoughts were calm, and he had no urge to go running from the room, screaming for his parents.
He took all this as a positive sign. He jumped back up on the bed next to Aaden, gracefully curling into a comfortable position so he could clean his fur. Hoping he was acting nonchalantly so as not freak out Aaden, Max spoke softly.
“When Nick goes to school, we can talk privately. I’m sure you have the urge to speak out loud. That happens a lot, to begin with, but don’t worry. It wears off pretty quickly. I’ll answer all your questions and remember you are not going mad. I promise.” Keeping his gaze on Aaden, he watched for any signs of a freak-out, not entirely convinced it wouldn’t happen at any moment.
“Okay.” Aaden’s broad shoulders shrugged. “I’ll try not to talk out loud. But you gotta promise to answer all my questions.”
He gave a nod in acquiescence, though he wasn’t sure Aaden would be quite ready for everything, even when he could sense the excitement leaking through their link. Max couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face, making his whiskers twitch with his delight.
Yes, yes, he felt it again as he watched Aaden busy himself getting dressed and play-fight with his brother. It was different, and by the Goddess Freyja, he hoped this would be the last time he would have to endure failure.
Max
2017
The Isle of Mann
Max strained to contain his yowl at being kept caged inside the van, but it would appear these cretins on the boat did not allow cats to roam, only foolish dogs. Meowing loudly, he opened his link and was tempted to teleport but still feeling the after-effects from the other week; he changed his mind.
A picture popped past the barrier he thought he’d secured in place after seeing a specific little black cat. He shook off his thoughts when images of a little black swaying bottom pushed to the forefront of his mind.
He’d known instantly she was one of his kin. Though as far as he could tell, she was far removed from him and more connected to Morgana’s side of the family, thank the Goddess Freyja. He couldn’t be having unsavoury thoughts about close family members. His fur lifted, hackles rising at the very idea.
No, that wouldn’t do at all.
He searched through his link with Morgana accessing her memories and grinning like a fool when the name popped into his head, Princess. Yes, she was!
Grunting in disapproval at his growing excitement, he focused on what he could glean about her lineage. Pleased when he realised she was a very, very, distant relative and her mother, Morgan’s niece, the queen of her own domain.
He sensed this was why she was a right little madam and kept true to her name, Princess. He’d bet anything she was a naughty girl. He shuddered at how naughty he could be with her. Stop that nonsense right now! He gave himself a stern talking too, knowing he wasn’t fooling anyone when he decided to make sure to keep a close eye on her. He purely assured himself to make sure she behaved herself. No, there was definitely no other reason, nope, so not going there.
He pulled his mind out of the gutter, thinking about how things had left him with little knowledge of whom or where all the guardians were. He tried to shrug it off. He supposed he had no one to blame for the change to his role to soul bearer.
The other guardians had all been given additional responsibilities because of the FUBAR he’d created in the twelfth century. Manannán, it appeared, wanted to ensure they all behaved themselves. He’d set about creating new laws to govern them, and though Max was still the King of his kind, his primary role had changed, making it more of a title now after all these centuries.
Not that Max minded no longer having to endure so many voices inside his head. Those who watched over their domains were responsible for the actions of their guardians, and though ultimately Max retained overall responsibility for his kind, he no longer had to deal with the day-to-day squabbles, thank the God Njord.
His mind circled back, reminding him this was a good thing, even if it left him out of the loop and no longer aware of all the guardians, especially the cute little one going to be living across the road from him.
Sighing when tutting filtered into his mind and catching his naughty wayward thoughts, he acknowledged Princess’s mother’s presence before shutting her out of his mind. Max tilted his head, considering. His eyes narrowed as realisation dawned that his links with the others had grown stronger the closer they got to the Island and the origins of his kind.
Distracted as the thrumming under him slowed, his ears pricked up at the sound of the engines shutting down. He breathed in deep. His senses enjoyed the slight scent of the sea
seeping through the metal hull, and memories flooded past his defences.
They’d relived that fateful night over and over. All the while, Óláfr had willed his death ever closer. The following thirty-six years had felt like an eternity, never-ending for both of them, scarring Max for life. The burdens sat inside him as a constant reminder of what happens when you mess with the fates.
In some way, he’d been relieved on the eve of Óláfr death when his soul had finally joined Magnus’s, inside him. Max found that he couldn’t stay a minute longer on the Isle, so had hidden on one of the longships, travelling towards an unknown future. Unsure where he needed to go, he’d wandered aimlessly. He strayed further and further from home, never feeling the urge to return, not once.
In all those years, why had he never come back? He’d struggled with nightmares of what Óláfr and Magnus had endured, but he wasn’t sure that was the only thing that kept him away.
Now that the fates had stepped in again, millennia later, with Aaden’s friend Joe needing their help. It had made it nigh on impossible to avoid returning home, with Joe moving to the Isle of Mann, several weeks earlier.
Max plonked his head down on his gleaming white paws, the weight of his guilt spreading like butter on hot toast. His mind distracted for a second by the thoughts of food, Max sighed. He couldn’t avoid the question that had nagged at him since he’d known he would be returning home. How am I going to explain to Aaden about the past?
The bits Max had purposefully held back, now seemed to mock his fear of changing the destiny of their fates. He’d learnt the hard way over the many years he’d searched, you can’t mess with the future, not unless you wanted an arse whooping. Max brushed his paw down his backside. Yep, his arse was whooped.
That, however, was not going to help him out of his current predicament. He recalled all the times he’d changed the subject when Aaden got too close to asking questions Max wouldn’t answer. Instead, he’d regaled him with parts of history not found in their textbooks. He knew it was naughty not to tell him, but for some reason, he felt it necessary not to tell him everything.
Now with these urges and needs pulsing through him, he worried he might have made a mistake not telling Aaden the full story. His solid reasoning at the time now was holier than one of Joe’s jumpers, and that was saying something. Wasn’t it the reason he’d teleported back to the island in the first place to check out their new home, but also to check how he would feel being home at the scene of his crime.
His memory was quick to remind him he’d gotten more than he bargained for. Burying his head in his paws, he prayed it wouldn’t be much longer before they could get off and allow him out of his cage.
There was also the pressing need of his full bladder being relieved. His eyes drifted shut, and he tried hard to concentrate on something that wasn’t his lower regions, only to spring open as the loud horn blasted through the ship. His cage shook when a discombobulated voice roared into the van announcing their arrival.
The slight bump as the boat docked had him firing forward into the door of his cage, desperate to escape as he felt Magnus’s soul lurch inside him in a way it had never done in all the years he’d carried it.
Alarmed, he clawed at the cage door. Releasing the fragile lock, he pushed out into the back of the van, pacing impatiently, and waited for Aaden to return. The sound of clattering feet rose as people moved around the steel ship, making him antsy to escape. The door flung open, letting in the smell of oil and grease. Not giving Aaden a chance, he dived onto the cold metal floor, heading to the side, cocking his leg, relieving himself.
Aaden chuckled behind him.
A small crease formed on Max’s brow as he scowled up at Aaden. Turning away, he ignored the answering grin Aaden gave him and carried on peeing up the metal wall.
“Come on, Max, hurry up. We have to make a move. Joe is waiting for me, along with his boyfriend.”
The slight edge to Aaden’s voice as he spoke of Joe’s partner had him rolling his eyes.
Goddess Freyja give me patience.
“How many times have I told you? Joe is not your soulmate. Yours is out there, somewhere, waiting for you, though God knows who would have the patience to tolerate you. And yes, you have been patient, and as I say, I have been patient a lot longer. Now shut up and drive.”
Max jumped back into the van just as Aaden sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Exhaust fumes filled the van as Aaden followed the slow-moving vehicles exiting the boat hull. Max began to cough, and his eyes watered for a second. He shook his head while Aaden moved down the ramp onto the road.
Max gawped as he got his first glimpse of home in nearly eight hundred years. He was pleasantly surprised by the lushness of the surrounding greenery and swaying palm trees. His eyes tried to take it all in at once, checking out the new scenery they passed.
Too busy nosing, he hardly had time to register what was happening to him when his body bowed back. Feeling a sudden ripping inside his chest, Max panted through the pain as Magnus’s soul released its long-term hold over him, floating out of his body for the first time in over eight hundred years.
Mesmerised, Max watched the air move around him with a multitude of colours. He cast a glance at Aaden, grateful he was too busy looking for a parking spot to notice anything out of the ordinary. Max flopped back in relief into the leather seat. The lingering pain had him forcibly trying to calm his panting breath. The essence spread out dissipating. It moved from inside the vehicle out into the light evening air. The rainbow patterns danced on the wind as if scenting the air before rising into the pale blue sky, disappearing from his sight.
What the hell was that?
In all his years of giving up Óláfr’s soul to the rightful recipients, it had never felt like that before, more like a slight sting that the bees gave him when he chased and caught them.
Maybe it is because it had always been my choice to free the soul, but then I’ve never released Magnus’s before.
Why hadn’t the hell I thought about this before?
Is this why I’ve failed so many times in the past?
Oh, this didn’t bode well!
His worried eyes searched the quay for Joe, looking for a distraction; anything from the fear that was swelling in his chest. His tumbling thoughts bashed into each other. Uncertainty had him eyeing Joe before turning to Aaden. His paws twitched.
Aaden’s thunderous dark eyes met his for a moment, making Max wonder if he’d sensed the inner turmoil he was feeling. Max failed miserably when he tried to aim for a reassuring grin, and it came out more like a grimace. Aaden shifted his gaze away but not before giving him a ‘what the fuck is up with you’ look. Max ignored the silent question, shutting out Aaden before letting his suspicions surface.
He felt this change of events was somehow going to affect them all, especially him and Aaden, though he wasn’t sure how. He gave a deep sigh when Aaden pulled up and exited the van, leaving him sitting watching out the window.
Max’s breath caught when the wind took hold of Aaden’s dark hair. It blew around his shoulders as he strode towards Joe. The memory of Óláfr walking with purpose had Max shift in fright. He forced himself to look away. The hard question pushing for an answer had him give a disgruntled snort.
Had this been the plan all along? That Óláfr’s soulmate would be here, where it all began?
The End.
Or is it just the beginning?
Why did his new neighbour make him want to change and leave his protective shell? A man not frightened to show the world who he was. Would Martin stay or run when faced with Brad’s past and his scars?
Brad Cummings lived a quiet controlled life: the world he created was not through choice but from necessity. A traumatic past left him unable to see past his scars.
Until fate steps in with Martin.
Martin’s need to show him how beautiful he is both inside and out leads Brad to finally understand the true meaning of love.
Martin’s ability to have fun allows Brad to stop existing and start to live for the first time in his life.
Martin shows him that not all families are the same: a family can be more than a blood connection.
But Brad has learnt the hard way, being himself is not always a good thing. A mischievous cat, a prying neighbour, a sexual awakening, and a father intent on harm, turn Brad’s ordered life upside down. Can he trust an instant connection and believe in soulmates?
Seeing Beyond the Scars is the second book in the Manx Cat Guardian Series, these books are not standalones and need to be read in order to gain the background. It is an MM romance, with hurt comfort, steamy instant connection, light aspects of BDSM play, and an ancient paranormal cat that likes to interfere. This book has a HEA.
Trigger Warning: There are aspects of child abuse and some scenes of violence.
2010
Princess licked her paws, watching. She had waited fifteen years to fulfil her guardian role. Knowing her purpose of matching, guiding, and supporting her charge to find his perfect soul mate was coming. But she had a feeling he would need so much more.
Humanity shone through her eyes; concern grew as her new charge roamed his grandmother’s home. Princess fretted as Brad’s anxiety, grief, and sadness overwhelmed her. Brad’s eyes appeared distant and empty, engulfing his face.
Her body twitched as hurt ploughed through her like a physical blow. Her ability to calm and soothe was needed urgently. Princess jumped onto Brad’s lap, the bond instant and unbreakable as they touched. Princess felt the shift settle, allowing Brad’s soul to join to hers, each connection different from the last. The now quiet room seemed at odds with the thoughts that were exploding in her mind, battering her senses from Brad.