Free Hunting the She-Cat by Jacki Bentley

sound, echoing in her
ears. With her hands, she found the thrust of his hips, gently
clawing him, pulling him closer to her.
    He groaned deep in his chest. “That’s
it. Yes, love. You are learning fast, Misha, mine.”
    “It comes natural.”
    “Ah, yes, but you are gifted. The
female assurance of your confidence calls to me, sings to
me.”
    He smoothed one of his hands over her
hair. “So soft, so silken. The scent of you is perfect to my
senses. You are made for me.”
    Misha knew she should tell him this was
not forever, not about being made for only each other, this was
about hot sex and the drive to finish it. But the look of amazement
in his eyes and a particularly deep thrust, pushed her over the
edge to the most amazing, reverberating orgasm. “Lugar, please,”
she yelled. “Easy, I … may fly apart in your arms. I … cannot …
breathe.”
    “That’s exactly the idea, Misha.” He
kissed her long and hard on the lips. “Love your lips.” Then he
followed her to completion, his growling sounds of triumph
exulting.
    She stoked his back, holding him to
her, not wanting to part from him. He leisurely kissed her neck,
her shoulders, her breasts.
    “Next time we do this as
cats.”
    * * * *
    “Tell me all you remember from your
childhood, your earliest memories.” Lugar hated to rush her but he
had to know soon, had to have evidence of her innocence. The
morning sun filtered into her kitchen windows.
    She stiffened as she stood at the sink
rinsing a melon. She laid it down and turned slowly to face him.
“Is it important that I dredge through my past?”
    “More than you realize. Or I would not
ask. I do not want to bring back pain. We know something violent
happened. The homing locators the other two wore disappeared from
our view abruptly.”
    “You tracked us.”
    “Standard travel procedure. They each
wore ID.”
    “Do I have ID?”
    “The necklace you always wear.
Yes.”
    Her eyes pooled with tears. “My mama
told me never take it off, not even to bathe.”
    “And you obeyed Ladia.
Good.”
    “You know my mother’s name.”
    “I know of her. Well known
glaciologist.”
    “She studied the glaciers?”
    “On many worlds. Yes. Tell me what
happened to her, Misha.”
    She wrapped her arms tightly around
herself. “No. No. No!”
    Each word became louder, like a
talisman against the truth. “What of the male, Tryth?”
    Her lovely, sad hazel eyes lit with
speculation. “You don’t call him my father?”
    “He was not your father. He stole your
mother away.”
    She sagged back against the counter.
“Thank God.” Suddenly great sobs racked her frame.
    He jumped from his seat to take her in
his arms. “Shhh. Let it out. You have suppressed this for many,
many years.”
    After allowing her to sob several long
minutes he forced himself to prod her, “Tell me.”
    “Mama was dead, blood in her hair. He …
the man named, Tryth -- ” She turned, her face carried a pained
expression. “… murdered her. He killed my mama. I don’t know
why.”
    “Oh. God. No.” He pulled her tighter in
his embrace, stroking her back. She allowed it for only a moment
before pulling away and facing him, composed now.
    “I killed him back!” she said this as a
child might, spat it savagely. She drew back and looked at him with
eyes that were looking back through the years, reliving, almost
speaking as the child she’d been. No doubt she’d deeply buried and
repressed the memories until now.
    Her tear-filled eyes searched his own.
“When he returned from taking her away -- I waited for him. As a
cat. I crouched, hidden, in the trees. A big cat. Big enough. I was
so happy to be bigger than a five year old child. We lived near
here. The woods were the same, a sanctuary. He walked home as a
human. No time for him to react. I killed him. Oh God, I killed
him.”
    “Baby, baby,” he crooned, rocking her
in his arms as she sobbed.
    She swiped her curls from her face.
“After … after that I stayed in