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Authors: Dara Joy

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BOOK: Cat Scratched!
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Snow, mistaking his snarl for a danger warning, tightened her muscles in his hold.

Salair instantly relaxed. "I apologize. I was thinking of something that–" He decided he did not wish to explain those thoughts to her so said instead, "You will have a beautiful new home soon that you will never have to leave, if that is your wish."

Snow delicately sniffed the air.

It was humid and heavy with the smell of exotic flowers. For some reason, the fragrance evoked the
sultriness
that she had shared with Salair the one time they had mated. The scent was quite intoxicating, but she would not tell him that.

"It does not smell like home," she said in quiet defiance.

"It will," he assured her. "I vow it to you."

***

He would not reach his village before the incarnation was upon him.

***

They were almost home.

He could smell the spicy
lingra
and
soutra
herbs–so beloved by his people–that grew only in the northern continent of M'Yan.

Narrowing his clear eyes against the setting sun, he scanned the flowing, lavender waters of the river
A jain
as it flowed past a rocky promontory where they had stopped to rest.

Strangely, Snow had ceased resisting him when they entered the Familiar world. He noticed her hesitation when her senses took in the sounds and scents of her childhood home.

Was she already remembering that which she had forgotten?

This was
her
world. Her people. She had seemed strangely thoughtful since then. He no longer carried her, guiding her by hand was enough. Occasionally, he called out a warning to her, such as: 'there is a stone in front of you,’ or, 'step up onto the ledge'. Snow's natural abilities came to the fore as her innate dexterity allowed her to navigate the land with a lithe nimbleness that was unusual in a sightless person. As they traveled along in quiet companionship (due to his firm guidance and her pliant grace), they seemed to flow naturally into one another. Their movements were attuned. So it generally was with mated Familiars.

And the longer they were mated, the more connected they would become.

Thus, it was not truly a surprise when Snow remarked casually, "How long have you been in this kind of pain?" Salair–who had been doing his best to conceal the sharp spasms that were coming at closer and stronger intervals–saw no reason to continue his subterfuge. In any event, he could not keep the knowledge of the Incarnation from her much longer.

Especially since she would be a rather major part of it. Best he get it out in the open.

He only prayed she had some knowledge of it. It would be difficult to have to explain it as if she were not one of his kind.

Those kind of digressions were unheard of–full knowledge of Incarnation was kept strictly within his people. For the first time he wondered how Gian Ren had
'explained' the Incarnation to the
tajan
, Jenise. . . Well, he must have done a good job of it for Salair had heard she was already impregnated by their king. And
that
could only occur during Incarnation. It had worked out very well for them and the
tajan
was not even Familiar. She was Frensi. It should not be as difficult for Snow, who was born of their kind.

Like most of his people, Salair was a great believer in nature. Since Snow was a Familiar mate, instinctively, she should be drawn to him at this time.

Despite what she knew, she would feel
driven
to help him.

"It is the Incarnation," he answered her truthfully. "It is coming swiftly upon me."

She cocked her head to the side. "Incarnation? What is that?"

An intense tremor rocked him, making him double over. Snow called out in alarm. "Salair!" Despite her not wanting to return to M'yan, she definitely cared for this man. She knew without a doubt that he had always been her intended mate. Yes, she cared for him a great deal. . .

She just wanted to kill him as well.

But. . . only sometimes just lately.

And
only
a little.

"I do not know whether I can hold off much longer. I had hoped to reach my village before we–" he paused as the tremor doubled back on him, making him grind his teeth.

"However, I fear that is not to be." Despite the fact that this was to be a third Incarnation for him, it seemed one did not get used to the burning contractions. The spasms actually seemed
more
intense this time. He scanned the rocky ledges noting several platforms leading up past a high waterfall. Halfway up, there appeared to be a Travelers Cave. The entrance was partially covered with vines of night-blooming
tasmin
. Travelers Caves were scattered throughout M'Yan and were usually well-stocked with necessities. Their king, Gian Ren, took good care of his people; Salair had heard that the caves had never been so well-tended.

He quickly made his decision to stay there for the coming night.

As they entered the dim interior, several banked fires and wall torches roared to life, no doubt under the guidance of the Wizards of the Charl. Such spells often made good livelihoods for lesser mages, who went about performing such services for reasonable fees. Several bags of preserved foods and
systale
gourds were strewn about. The gourds were used on many worlds for porting water and other liquids. On a higher ledge, fluffy, fragrant
bali
leaves were stuffed into the cloth-covered bedding.

The small cavern was divided into two levels. A hot spring at the top flowed over into a lavender waterfall that fed a smaller pond below. The tinkling sound of rushing water bubbling over rocks was soothing to Snow, but not to her sense-heightened mate, who felt every sound as a scrape along his skin.

"There is a pool for bathing. Someone has left us food and other supplies. We will stay the night here . . ." He hesitated, then added, "Or, perhaps, many nights."

"Many nights?" That sounded strange to her. "I thought you were anxious to return to your home?"

"
Our
home, Snow. And, yes, I am; although I am not sure why."

"You wish to see your family?"

His brow furrowed. "Perhaps." But was that the real reason? Had he missed his father, after all? He had not seen the old
xathu
for years.

His mother had died when he was still a babe. Salair had not wanted to get mired up in ruling the clan. As soon as he had reached the age of roaming, he had left his home.

He had always marveled that his father had the stamina to stay in one place long enough to
own
it. Such had never been for the likes of Salair, who lived to see a different sunrise each day.

Yet, he loved his father.

Even if they did argue constantly.

Sometimes it was just that way with two males in their prime.

"I am looking forward to seeing my home again, but–" Another strong tremor shook him. This time he could not hold back the groan that escaped his lips. Alarmed, Snow squeezed his arm. "Salair, is this part the Incarnation you spoke of?"

"Yes. Do you not remember any tales of it?"

"No, I do not."

Mayhap she had been too young to learn of it at the time of her parent's accident. He sighed as he realized he would have to explain it to her. "You have heard that Familiar males are always at their peak of vitality?"

"Yes." She worried her lip. "Some say it is quite a good trait."

Despite his discomfit, he chuckled. "Some do say that."

"That has something to do with this Incarnation?"

"Yes. When a male Familiar reaches his peak level of vitality–somewhere between the ages of thirty and forty standard years–he undergoes a process of rejuvenation that allows him to maintain the height of his physical perfection. And so it is throughout most of his adult life. During this time span, he will undergo nine Incarnations–each lasting a span of ten years–in which he rejuvenates to his peak level. A physical level of perfected stamina. These are a Familiar's productive years. Males can thus explore all aspects of physical pleasure during these years of Incarnation."

"They are very fortunate then," she remarked wryly. He gave her a side look. She had quite a subtle sense of wit. He decided it was best to continue over that remark. And best he do it with a
lot
of tact. He took her hands in his as he kneeled before her.

"Snow, we have not had the opportunity to, ah, meld like ordinary mates. We have been together just once. . . And, yet, I have no choice but to ask you to now allow me to lead you into something much deeper. If I had a choice, I would do this differently–but I do not. I know you do not understand these things yet, and so I am asking you to trust me."

"Trust you in what way?

"Familiar mates explore the deepest levels of their sensuality. . ." He crossed his eyes, shook his head back and forth at his own ineptitude, then tried again. "There is a process. . . The Incarnation can allow us to achieve these levels."

Snow did not have a clue what the man was getting at!

She cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?"

The puzzled look she gave him would have been endearing if the situation were not fast becoming dire.

"Our sensual natures. Ah, through a detailed act, allow us to release a spiritual aspect–" By Aiyah, explanations had never been his strong suit! He faltered for words. Bravely, he tried once more. "When we make love, there are certain energies that arise. . . "

A dimple popped into her cheek. Is that what this was about? "So I noticed, Salair Ner." He snorted and nodded. "Very well. I am not good at explaining such things. The thing is such–when the female's energy rises, then so does the male's." She laughed outright. "I have heard it is so with many beings. Although
some
more than others.
Perhaps
." He ignored her. "Once there is harmony–"

"During?"

"During. Then the two can enter into what is known as the tiers of the Incarnation ceremony. It is what we call the
Nine Hundred Strokes To Love
"

Now it was her turn to snort. "Not actually, though?" He gave her his most patient tone. "Yes, really." She brushed back her hair with a nervous touch. Her brief humor was suddenly gone. "Continue."

"As the energy levels rise between them. . .
us
. . . we can both reach our higher levels–"

"Salair, you keep saying levels. What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Every time the female reaches her peak, her energy transfers to the male. . . fueling him. . . So to speak." She was definitely wary now. "What do you mean by
every
time?"

She could feel him staring at her. "The Incarnation can go on for days,
Softcat
. The male must withhold his release even as the female–"

"You must be jesting!" she gasped. "It is too unbelievable!”

He could not help but chuckle. "These are our ways.
Your
ways." He made his voice roll with sensual
purr
. "It is most enjoyable; I assure you.”

"Well, you would say so, would you not?" He laughed. "I might–but I think I can get you to concur with my assessment," he murmured softly. Abruptly, a severe contraction wracked his body. For several moments, Salair’s breathing was erratic while he tried to hold the pain at bay.
He was waiting too long.

Snow's palm gently cupped the side of his face. "What can I do to help you? I do not want you to suffer so." She was consenting to the Incarnation!
At last.

"You have just done it,
Softcat
," he murmured, turning into her touch to kiss her palm. "I will remember your kindness long after the last stars of M'yan flicker and fade into time."

It was a lovely thing to say, and the deep sentiment was not lost on Snow. Salair did not strike her as a man who went out of his way to be charming.

Consequently, his words were all the more meaningful to her.

***

Familiar men liked to gift their mates.

They usually made it a habit to leave small 'prizes' for the female where she would least expect it. Colorful ribbons, an exotic feather, a rare necklace. Under a pillow, in the bath, or anywhere it would surprise. It was a way to win favor.

Salair suspected that the trait harkened back to their other form. Most felines were aloof, yet, on occasion they inexplicably adored leaving various fetching little 'kills' for someone they fondly associated with.

Due to their circumstances, he had not been able to do very much on their journey. Though she would not speak with him for much of the time, he still tried. A soft leaf for
her to touch, an odd-shaped stone to feel, a curled shell to listen to.

BOOK: Cat Scratched!
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