A Lost Kitten (7 page)

Jasira stood above John. She indeed loved looking at his bare torso. Having felt no sensations for two decades, and knowing she would be able to feel him, she could not resist the temptation of familiarizing herself with his chiseled body. Therefore, she waited for the right moment.

When John seemed to have drifted off, she gently touched his cheek. The smoothness of his face made her smile. Her hands lowered to the muscles at his chest. Her eyes fluttered closed. John felt exactly how she believed he would. Hard. Solid. Completely masculine.

Since the night of the celebration, Jasira could not get John off her mind. Once she had overcome the shock of seeing him go through a solid door the day before, she tried to plan her next move. She thought it best to go slow. However, it was going to be difficult. John’s good looks made her extremely impatient to feel again.

While she sat beside John, Jasira enjoyed the many peaks and valleys that made up his chest and stomach. His skin was warm to the touch. It placed tears in her eyes. She had forgotten what warmth felt like. She traced each small muscle with her fingers. Lower and lower they went, pausing at his narrow hips, just above the quilt’s edge.

Back up they traveled to repeat the journey. Jasira stared at John’s face. She had wanted a permanent mate, any man. She had not been concerned with how he looked, as long as he was a man of honor and courageous. As she stared at John’s perfect features, she was overjoyed at how handsome he was.

Jasira lowered her face to John’s. She stayed in that position for a while, observing him. She was slow to recognize another sensation she had forgotten—smell. Jasira sniffed John. The scent of clean skin mixed with pine made her features crumble. It was the soap John had used in his bath. Now she understood what the others meant when they spoke about pine scent.

Closing her eyes, she placed her nose on John’s cheek and drew his scent deeper into her lungs. Tears formed beneath her lowered lashes. She ordered herself not to lose control of her emotions again. It took concentration, but she managed to stay calm.

Her nose roamed over John’s forehead, cheek, nose, and chin. Her hands returned to exploring his chest and stomach. Gradually, Jasira became aware of another feeling. It started in the center of her core and steadily increased the longer she remained where she sat. This new feeling was powerful. It drowned out all reason. She lost track of where she was, of what she was doing. Jasira was being consumed by the feel and scent of her kindred soul.

John showed signs of waking up. Signs Jasira missed, for her eyes were glued to his plush lips. Without hesitating, she opened her mouth above his. Her tongue unhurriedly traced the outline of John’s mouth. Her features grew dreamy. Greedy for more, Jasira plunged deep into a moist cavern where she was met by an eager mate.

John fought to remain asleep. If this was a dream, he did not want to wake up. He thought of the maiden, Dena. She must have snuck into his room and was trying to seduce him. Her lips were hungry, greedy for his. It was the hottest kiss he had ever experienced.

Fully awake, John growled into her passionate mouth and eagerly dueled with her seeking tongue. He was right. Dena was well experienced. Her roaming hands started a fire in John that quickly rose in potency. His mouth opened wider. His heart filled with joy at her enthusiastic response.

John detected a strong vanilla scent. Perhaps it was Dena’s scent after all, and the lilac was from the products she carried with her. He inhaled. The vanilla mingled with a more arousing perfume. John drew both fragrances into his lungs. His soul shivered with excitement, wanting more.

On a groan, John reached upward, intending to press those delicious lips closer. He jolted when his own hand slapped his face. He sat up in bed; going through Jasira’s bent form. Jasira stood from her seat. She tried to slow down her breathing, as did John as he searched the quiet room.

Was it a dream? With a confused expression, John fingered his lips. It could not be. The kiss felt unbelievably real. He could still feel those warm, soft lips on his. He sniffed the air. The aroma of vanilla mixed with a woman’s arousal was potent. It caused his soul to quiver with restrained need. He touched his chest. It burned from her explorations. His aroused body longed for more.

What was going on? How could it have been a dream? None of his dreams were ever that good. A woman must be in his room. John jumped off his bed and looked around. He found no one. He raced to the front door to inspect it. It was locked from the inside, just as he had left it. How was that possible?

He returned to his bed and sat on the mattress. He thought of the school, of the massage, of the feminine body pressed along his back. Had a ghost followed him to the castle?

John sniffed the air. The pleasant smells were fading. He shivered. The cold was returning. It helped to tame his throbbing need. He quickly placed another log in the fire and jumped underneath the covers.

Maybe it was a dream. He sure hoped so. He did not want to believe a female ghost was haunting him. He had dealt with ghosts in the past. None of them were nice. The ghosts were extremely hostile, violent, and deadly. His team suffered severely before they managed to vanquish the ghosts. He hated ghosts and did not trust them.

John turned onto his side and raised the covers to his nose. Thinking more clearly, he thought of all his ghostly encounters. All the signs were the same. And not. There were auras, like his vanilla scent. When the ghosts appeared, the area became cold, unlike now, when it became warm. Those ghosts tried to kill him. This one erased his stress with a warm massage and made him forget the nightmare he was living with a magical kiss.

John felt his soul respond to the memory.
No!
he barked at it.
It’s a ghost, not a real woman. I won’t fall for its tricks. It’s up to something. It wants me to lower my guard so it can strike. Well, it won’t work. I’ve dealt with ghosts too many times to fall for it.

John rubbed his face, feeling temporarily unhinged. What was he thinking? He was allowing his suspicions of Bogdan and Yudit to cloud his judgment. He was, after all, in an old castle. There were probably a dozen secret passageways behind the walls. He must have a secret admirer who snuck in, kissed him, and ran out before he saw her. John inhaled deeply. That was it. No kissing ghost. Just a foolish young girl. And John believed he knew which girl it was.

Jasira exited through the castle doors. She arrived at the little house beside the school and entered through a sidewall. She immediately went to sit at the kitchen table. Groaning, Jasira placed her face in her hands and thought of John. His erection engraved itself in her mind. She had seen plenty of naked men, of all races, but none had awakened her need to mate before. How was she going to get through tomorrow’s lessons? She would have to find a way.

.

Chapter 4

The next morning, John dressed in two sets of clothes. They did nothing to keep out the ever-present chill. Over breakfast, he asked King Yudit if there was work he could do to pass the time away.

The king swallowed his mouthful of food. “Of course not. View your stay on Surreal as an unexpected vacation before returning to war.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’m a warrior and a hard worker. I don’t lounge around.”

Yudit lowered his mug of tea. “I must insist, John. You are my guest. As my guest, you are not allowed to work.”

“But I don’t mind—”

“I do.”

John inhaled deeply. He did not want to argue with the king, so he dropped the subject and took several bites of his food. He drank his hot tea slowly. It eased the cold but did not chase it away.

“Is Surreal this cold all the time?”

The king regarded him oddly. “Surreal’s temperature never drops below forty degrees for five lunar cycles during low season. Now it’s the start of peak season, when the planet’s temperature does not drop below ninety for seven lunar cycles.” He continued to eat.

John rechecked his ears. “Did you say below ninety?”

Yudit nodded.

“That’s impossible. I can’t shake this cold feeling. I can’t find a warm place anywhere unless it’s under hot water.”

The king eyed the amount of clothes John wore. “Perhaps you are ill?”

John scratched his head and left it alone. Maybe he
was
ill. He decided to change the topic and question Yudit about the school and the ghost he encountered.

Yudit was a bit slow in hiding his lack of surprise. “A ghost, you say?”

John nodded.

“Why do you think there is a ghost at the skool?”

John told him, altering the truth slightly.

King Yudit wiped his mouth. “I admit that my race is an old one, but there are no ghosts living in the kasuhl or on royal grounds.” He pushed back his seat. “Now if you would excuse me, I have some important business to address. Enjoy your breakfast.” He hurried off, leaving John with unanswered questions.

John found the king’s abrupt departure odd. He looked at Yudit’s plate of food. It was half-eaten. John concluded Bogdan and Yudit knew more about the ghost than they were willing to say. But why the secrecy?

Losing his appetite, and with nothing else to do, John went for a walk outside. He asked the local merchants if he could work for them, even Dena’s parents. He learned how quickly the king’s word spread. It appeared that walking was about the only thing he was allowed to do during his stay on Surreal. That, plus eating.

When it was time to sleep, John found it upsetting that he could not replicate the dream he’d had of the amazing kiss. He focused on how wonderful that kiss was for the next two nights, hoping to fall asleep and dream of the woman. Perhaps if he was lucky, he would see her.

Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. She did not return to him, and John missed her terribly. He cursed himself. No woman had this sort of affect on him. Still, his soul refused to let it go. It felt abandoned. Lost. He could not shake the feeling, not even after spending Tuesday and Wednesday with Dena.

John discovered Dena was not the source of the vanilla scent. Nor was she the one who had kissed him. He had believed it was her. Only seconds into their first kiss, he was aware of her different style. Not one of her kisses aroused him like the one he’d had in his bedroom. This meant the kiss was a dream. For sanity reasons, he had to forget it. But how, when even Dena could not make him forget?

John sought the sun’s heat daily. It failed to warm him. He was amazed at how those around him complained about the heat while he could not stop shivering. He walked briskly, even ran around the grounds several times each day. Amazingly, a few minutes after he stopped, the cold would return. At times, his teeth would chatter.

By the following week, he began to think that maybe he had caught a bug, since he was the only one affected. It was strange, since he felt fine except for the cold sensation that refused to leave him. What made it more difficult to endure was that he had no respite unless he was bathing. Therefore, he took to sleeping underwater.

John finished his morning run. He braced himself on his knees and took deep breaths. Like before, he shivered two minutes later. His mind remembered a place where he did feel warm while out of water—the classroom. His gaze drifted in that location. He had avoided that area since his last visit. He gritted his teeth and started walking.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he mumbled, then smiled, remembering the phrase that was his cousin Dart’s favorite comeback. Satisfaction brought him back.

John stopped a few feet in front of the closed double doors. Was the place haunted? Then again, if it was, why did he feel warm inside? If the person who had given him a massage was a ghost, her touch should have been cold, not warm. It should have frightened him away, not made him want to stay. John was so confused he no longer knew what to think. The cold was making him desperate. Desperate enough to befriend a ghost—if there was one.

Next door, Jasira waved a broom back to its location in the closet. Another wave ignited the candle she had placed on her kitchen table. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Again, she thanked John for returning her sense of smell.

A darker thought entered her mind. If she regained her solid form, she would kill Dena. She could not believe the little harlot. How dare Dena set her sights on John? She had no right. Dena was spared Jasira’s fate because she was the daughter of kindred spirits and had been born after the Terrorshan war. The girl should know from her parents that outlanders brought to Surreal were for the people of the mist, not for those who were solid.

Jasira tried to forget the day she had stumbled upon John in Dena’s arms. After kissing John, Dena had pretended not to see her furious presence. How dare Dena seduce her kindred soul? And how could John kiss that horny little back scrubber after kissing
her?
Jasira wished she was solid. She would give that washer girl a taste of her own medicine, if not a black eye.

Since that afternoon, Jasira had backed off from visiting John. She was going to do so, anyway. Her eagerness had made the young warrior curious. He was asking questions about ghosts. Not good.

Surreal did not need the reputation of being haunted. If that happened, then even less outlanders would visit. Too many citizens would live out their lives as mist. Therefore, Jasira had planned to back off, just a little. But after catching John in another woman’s arms, she did not return.

It was meant to punish John. However, it was killing her. She wanted to see her kindred soul—to touch him, smell him, taste him. She walked to the window on a whimper. She fiercely missed John. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him standing in front of the school. What was he doing standing there, amidst the shadowy crowd, staring at the building?

Jasira exited her home and hesitantly approached him. She glimpsed his teeth chattering. Her heart went out to him. John’s senses were more sensitive than other beings. He felt the cold emanating from her people. With so many citizens living within the walls, it was no wonder he could not keep his limbs from trembling.