"During his father's illness Zorroc came to s.e.xual awareness. In all of his relationships he never became personally involved. They consisted of unions based on uncomplicated s.e.x. We kept waiting for him to progress into more rounded relationships, incorporating friendship and respect but that never materialized. We believe that he sees love as a great weakness to be avoided at all costs instead of the strength it provides to make one stronger. The more drawn he is toward you the more he retreats. We know this will prove to be quite a challenge for you but one you will meet successfully. A little patience will go a long way in this particular situation and even though we know patience is not one of your stronger points, we are depending on you to win him over with perseverance and love. You do love him, do you not, otherwise, why would you care about his changeable moods." Marie looked inordinately pleased with herself after this latest observation but Cat was grateful for the confirmation of what she'd begun to ascertain herself. She and Zorroc actually had a great deal in common. She'd never experienced emotional ties with someone of the opposite s.e.x and, for all his s.e.xual prowess; it seemed, neither had he.

"I love him," she admitted, "...and you!"

Cat returned to her quarters with renewed determination and purpose. The time had come to take her tiger by the tail and yank, then hold on for dear life. She prepared for one h.e.l.l of a ride. She COM'd Angel to learn about acquiring tactical armor. A formal dinner, held to honor the Earth females, had been set for that evening and Cat wanted a dress to stun some sense into her Gattonian. Angel COMd the simple instructions back to her and Cat proceeded to procure a dress to die for.

Amethyst and demure in the front with a high neck, long sleeves, and covering everything down to her toes; the back, in contrast, presented a different picture entirely. The material clung to her shoulders but was backless, exposing her shoulder blades, the delineation of her firm contours almost to the crack of her behind and showing off the dimples dotting either side of the base of her spine. It shimmered and flowed down to her strapless three-inch heels, which completed the outfit. She let her hair flow freely to play peek-a-boo with her back and took extra care with her make-up. As she clasped on the final addition of dangly earrings, the panel of their quarters slid open and she turned to face her heart-stopping male.

Zorroc's heart skidded at the sight before him. She appeared more confection than human and she was his. Her hair billowed around her like a live ent.i.ty. The color of her dress set off her emerald eyes to perfection. He had never seen her dressed thus and it took all of his considerable control to keep from pealing it off and skipping dinner in favor of a more enjoyable meal. From the look in her eyes, he did not think she would object. Then a nasty thought occurred to him. Whom had she dressed for? It would not be him; he had destroyed her blossoming affection with his last barrage of careless banter.

"You look..." he croaked and cleared his throat, "you look like a treasure," he finished, feeling every bit the untried youth.

She smiled gratefully and replied, "Thank you. You look good enough to plunder me at will." Then she turned around and faced the mirror for a last check on her appearance.

He blinked, not believing what so blatantly appeared before him. Her well-toned back spoke of the hours spent honing her defense and yoga skills, the dimples on either side of her spine hinted at the firm b.u.t.tocks just below; she comprised sheer perfection and he grew instantly hard. "You will not leave our quarters undressed as you are, the other males will be all over you." Then realizing the harshness of his tone, softened it to add, "Your body is for my eyes alone." With deceptive calmness and hooded eyes he then inquired, "For whom do you dress, he will not touch you, my confection, you are my mate now."

Jealousy became him, she decided; the dress had done its job.

She smiled seductively noticing the considerable bulge between his thighs and purred, "I dressed for you, of course. I have no interest in anyone else. As you stated so succinctly, we are mated. I only want to please you."

"If you pleased me any more we would be discovered naked and starved six days from now while I took my fill of you." He looked suddenly unsure, befuddled actually, Cat noted. Good! She smiled sweetly and sauntered toward him. He looked even more unsettled. Perfect!

"What's the matter, sweetheart, Cat got your tongue?"

"You will pay for this later...sweetheart," he responded as he hooked her waist and swooped her into a hot, wet, and deeply pulsing kiss. It answered every single one of her insecurities and she gave herself up to his raw dominance. He backed her into the wall as his hands found their way into the back of her dress then groped the silky skin of her back, b.u.t.tocks and under. He lifted her slightly and supported her with one hand while the other traced down her spine past her crack and found her wet center; with two fingers he entered her spiking and ma.s.saging until they became coated in her cream.

She made up the most potent drug he had tasted and he wanted her more than breath. What game did she play; she acted as if their last confrontation had never taken place. She was making him crazy with her irrefutable optimism. "You minx, it was not supposed to be this way."

"And what way is that, my very own?"

He studied her for an instant before shaking his head and grumbling something about being late. He lowered her slowly to the ground and then slowly and thoroughly sucked the fingers that had been inside her, never losing eye contact. Heat blossomed on her cheeks and radiated to her lower abdomen. She doubted her legs would carry her. It also hit her that 'cream' had just taken on new meaning.

Chapter Thirteen.

The dinner proved festive, lively and extravagant and all eyes followed the striking couple's progress to the main table. Cat did not appreciate this kind of attention; she didn't know what might be expected of her and was not accustomed to such lavish accoutrements. She felt as if she'd just stumbled into the Cinderella role at the ball while her s.e.xometer scaled out higher than five Margaritas. She thrummed uncontrollably and did not relish an audience to witness it. Get a grip, she ordered herself and then remembered the grip Zorroc had on her not scant minutes before. She blushed as a drop of fluid worked its way down her inner thigh. Zorroc's mind collided with hers at that moment and his eyes caught fire as he scorched her with the knowledge of her own thoughts. Her blush grew in proportion to her discomfort. Zorroc groaned inwardly as he seated first her and then himself. His discomfort bulged before him and Prolinc, for one, had noticed, and tried, without success, to maintain his usual inscrutable expression.

Catarina strove to focus on her surroundings. Floor to ceiling murals lined the walls depicting exotic structures, landscapes and people. Many of the structures were pyramid in design and feel, while others resembled obelisks rising high into a red-orange sky as if to hold it up. Could this be her first glimpse of Gattonia? She wanted to go over and take a closer look at the wall art but knew it would have to wait until the dinner ordeal concluded. The ma.s.sive a.s.sembly hall held the off-duty crew as well as the women with ease. She hadn't realized that close to half of the crew were females. Like the males, they were attractive to a fault; tall and lithe with different coloring. Next to the earth women, they seemed exotic and rare. She wondered what the Gattonian males could see in the earth women, and what Zorroc could see in her. She felt like a wren in a flock of peac.o.c.ks. She sneaked a peek at Zorroc and caught him regarding her intently.

"You out shine every female here, my own," he whispered.

Spit, she thought, was he reading her again? "Thank you," she muttered politely, not believing him for a moment. She became distracted from further ruminations with the arrival of her friends- Carpov in tow holding firmly and possessively to Angel. The gowns worn by Angel and Dee were of a similar fabric looking like soft lush velvet but where Angel's was stark white, Dee's was jet black. They reminded her of ornate chess pieces belonging in a very exclusive brothel. Then it hit her-wasn't that where they were? On the other hand, maybe it was more like a community harem with multiple sheiks.

Yikes! What a mind-boggling thought.

Would they be forever shut away in luxurious gilded pens? What did they really know of what awaited them on Ganz? Horrified by her meandering; she yipped when Zorroc grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her toward him growling softly in her ear. He informed her that she was mis-thinking again and to stop it immediately. He then turned her face toward his and gave her a deep open-mouthed kiss in front the entire crowd. Well, if anyone wondered about the state of their carnal relations it was being tattooed onto every brain cell of each attendee now. She felt stuck in that nightmare where you're in a group of hundreds of people and looked down to realize you don't have a st.i.tch of clothing on and that all eyes are centered on you. She felt like a harem girl being claimed by the head Pooh-Bah.

Suddenly Zorroc broke off the kiss, chuckling helplessly, as moisture gathered in his eyes. The times she had seen him smile she could count on two hands; the times she had heard him laugh she could count on a single finger. The Gattonian tablemates froze in head-tilted unity while Dee and Angel smiled in appreciation. There remained hope for these serious-minded, overly-autocratic-cat-people yet. Cat looked a little stunned.

"You were reading me again, you cretin." She socked him in the arm. "I thought you told me it was impolite to do that without permission and that you could only do it at certain times."

"It is becoming easier and harder with time." As he spoke, he enfolded his large hand in hers and guided it to his male-part for a demonstration. "That fertile imagination of yours sprouts fantasies faster than pollen in spring. You are playing h.e.l.l with my composure and you must stop before my reputation as a solemn, dignified leader is forever besmirched."

"Well, geez, then don't listen or read or whatever it is you do." She decided to focus on something mundane like...her drink. The aunts had done a fine job with the Margarita recipe. Maybe too fine. She, Dee and Angel had each tried one and found it definitely high test.

The meal was lavish and delicious. Five courses were served over two hours, one course more mouthwatering than the last. She just wished that one of them looked remotely familiar. She opted not to ask the ingredients; ignorance definitely equaled bliss in this case. Cat felt like she would burst if she put one more crumb into her mouth. Both Angel and Dee looked sated and relaxed, as well; their eyes slightly glazed and unfocused. They sure weren't feeling any pain. She would have felt the same way but her nipples had become sensitized and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swollen, as they jutted into the front of her gown. She was also becoming sensitized down there, and having a hard time not squirming in discomfort. Next time, she'd pick an outfit she could wear underwear with. She'd have to have another lesson in clothes conjuring; that much was apparent unless...what ingredients made up this supposed Margarita? The aunts had told her that they had ordered the recipe but did they actually have Tequila, limejuice, and triple sec on board? She took a closer look at her now squirming friends and then focused on Zorroc with a definite question in her eyes.

Before she could ask, he whisked her drink off the table, taking a substantial taste.

Then things seemed to take on light speed proportions for the three friends trying to hone in on reality while their hormones honed in on their males.

Zorroc spat an expletive that Cat was not familiar with while he mindspoke to Prolinc and Carpov that their females' c.o.c.ktails had been laced with a.s.syllis. The three popped up like jack-in-the-boxes and proceeded to launch the three tipsy females to their feet and escort them quickly from the hall. Cat turned back, explaining to Zorroc that she'd wanted to study the murals for a while, but he scooped her up over his shoulder and kept moving toward the jet-quik. Why did he always do that to her? She stuck her palm under her chin and elbow into his back, after the third try, and concentrated on the scenery of his hard flexing buns as he propelled them toward their quarters. She'd wanted time to formulate the perfect strategy toward seduction but maybe a little spontaneity would be good, as well.

It was an aphrodisiac consisting of fascinating properties, actually; some of which Angel had never heard of but that Carpov described to her in graphic detail. Science had never sounded more o.r.g.a.s.mic. He'd been riding her for three hours and both of them were drenched in sweat and come.

Carpov had kept up extremely well considering he was not the one afflicted.

He'd explained that a.s.syllis, a local Gattonian flower, when mixed with a number of synthetic ingredients and processed in a specific manner, increased the natural aphrodisiac existing in the flower, ten-fold. Available in liquid or tablet, the couple usually ingested it at the same time. Most of the time, it was administered medicinally to couples involved in an arranged alliance where love and natural attraction did not exist. It was harmless and non-addictive except for the s.e.xual high it produced and usually took only a couple of hours to pa.s.s through the system. It was against the laws of his people to slip it to someone without their knowledge and Carpov seemed sure that Zorroc would be on the warpath to track down the person or persons responsible for spiking the Margaritas. It could be considered rape because of the mindless s.e.xual craving it induced, and therefore had the status of a controlled substance on Gattonia.

He silently grew concerned that Angel, after three hours of non-stop s.e.x, still suffered from the effects of the drug; not because it could harm her but because she had worn him out and did not know how much longer he could hold up. Every drop of sperm had been sucked out of him this night.

The drug had worn off an hour or so before, but Angel hadn't wanted to stop her love play with Carpov. Never before had she felt so light, so free, and so completely captivated. He must truly adore her to have put forth such a Herculean effort to keep her sated. She supposed it was time to let him off the hook...

"Oh G.o.d, Linc, what's happening to me?" Dee groaned while writhing on the platmat.

"A powerful aphrodisiac was added to your drink this evening and you are beginning to suffer the effects. It will get worse but I plan to join you," Prolinc finished, as he opened the drawer beside his mat. He uncorked a small vile and downed the bitter liquid then focused on Dee.

"What did you do?"

"I took a dose of the same mixture in your drink. We will be together in this for as long as it lasts. I will please you as many times as you need and you will please me as well."

"Did you do this, did you lace my drink so you could force me into submission? Because I'd rather die than become the hidden woman in your life, what's more I turned down your gracious offer of free s.e.x earlier this evening, in case you have forgotten, so go away and leave me in peace."

"I did not drug you, banshee, nor would I ever stoop to such a despicable prank to gain your compliance for s.e.x. You will need me tonight, love, and here I will stay. What you are feeling now will only become more intense until it will not matter who the male is, you will take anyone. I will not let that happen, because shortly I will be in the same shape as you. The decision not to be my Chosen One, I will accept tomorrow but for tonight I will be the male to satisfy your needs." Prolinc swayed slightly while his eyes took on an un-earthly glow. "The drug has taken effect, I need you," he rasped as he collapsed onto the mat and captured her. She moaned and tore his clothes off before stripping, and impaling herself on his rock hard shaft.

* * * * "How do you feel, my cream," Zorroc asked while efficiently slipping the sinful Amethyst concoction down Cat's body.

"Like I have a million tiny fire ants running around under my skin descending on and attacking my most private parts. What was in those drinks?" she ground out, beginning to feel the pain out-way the pleasure.

"a.s.syllis, it is an ancient flower that grows wildly in Gattonia. It is found on no other planet that we know of and is harvested in ma.s.s quant.i.ties by our people for export to other galaxies. It is normally ingested by two people together, to enhance s.e.xual relations. Since our chemistry is potent to begin with, I am afraid the discomfort you feel will be increased," he finished this last with a half smile and shed his uniform. She grew almost mindless with the effects of the drug; he hoped he could bring her down to a tolerable level. The drug approximated torture if s.e.xual relief remained unavailable.

"How do you stand it? How many times have you taken this stuff?"

"I have never taken it, as you can see it is mind-altering and I would be unable to perform my duties as ruler under its influence. The time has come to help you, all will be well," he murmured as he sank on to the mat and began touching her firmly on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, belly, and inside her v.u.l.v.a. She was soaking. This would not be a subtle joining, finesse would not be required or even appreciated for some time. He took her roughly and fast and that seemed to take the edge off for a few minutes. It would be a long night.

After the effects of the drug wore off, Cat fell into an unconscious slumber and they slept for hours. Zorroc stirred first and proclaimed it a day for breakfast on their mat, though the hour had long since pa.s.sed. She would be hungry and most of all thirsty, a side effect of the drug. He himself felt like he could eat a dozen swirls. He had lost count of how many times he had taken her, or she him, after the sixth. He went to the COM and ordered enough food and liquid for four people, then proceeded to the clean room. He looked forward to the day.

When he was clean but still in the buff, he stood over his mate and inspected her. She was a mess. Her compact body had sprawled taking up more than half the mat. Her hair had spiked out in all directions except the strands glued to her cheeks, shoulders, and chest by perspiration. Her cheeks were rosy below the thick half moons of her lashes and her lips had swelled to a plump berry red.

He noticed several bruises and love bites on her neck, thighs, arms, and b.r.e.a.s.t.s and recalled the feel of her skin, like satin against his mouth but he had not intended to mark her as he had. Still, she formed the most breathtaking vision he had ever seen or could imagine and decided that lifemating could be a very enjoyable state. Never had he felt so replete, or experienced such an intense marathon of gratification. In that moment, he wanted to shower her with joy and spoil her to distraction. He turned and headed back to the clean room. He would fill the ma.s.sage pool and let her wake in his arms while letting the healing water flow over their bodies. She would to be sore and the pool would give him an excuse to hold her again. He had wanted to try the accessory since coming aboard the Miramid; most ships did not provide such opulence.

She barely stirred as he lifted her into his arms and sank with her into the pool. He washed her hair and body gently, taking great pleasure in administering to her. She surfaced slowly into reality to register Zorroc cradling her to his chest and surrounding her with his muscular legs, and the sensation of gently swirling warm currents moving around them. "Z, where are we?" she slurred.

"h.e.l.lo, sleepy one, we are in the ma.s.sage pool. I thought you would be sore after so much s.e.x sport last night; how do you feel?" He began to lick and kiss her left shoulder and she sighed tilting her head to give him better access. He had lost control at one point during the night and given her another mating mark lost in the throws of a particularly violent o.r.g.a.s.m.

"I feel like my muscles have turned to honey and I'm floating in a babbling brook of warm scented water. How are you, did I hurt you last night?"

"No, you did not harm me," he gazed her bemusedly, "but you proved very enthusiastic." He smiled widely, reached over for a gla.s.s, and placed it in her small, slightly trembling hand. "Drink this, you must be thirsty from the drug; it is a juice similar to your Tangerine, I think." She drank deeply and sighed.

Breakfast surpa.s.sed delight with an array of fruits, pastries, cold meats and other delicacies that the two inhaled like two starving refugees. They were still without clothing and Cat felt decadent, a little self-conscious, and very pleased. Things seemed to be going very well in her quest to catch her cat man's heart. She'd never seen him more relaxed and playful with his barriers lowered and she reveled in this new side of him. At the end of their meal, he chased her around the room catching her on the mat where he entered her and began reciting all the names he could think of for the act they engaged in, punctuating each term with another thrust.

"There is tupping, tossing, toppling, twitching, and tooling," he began. "Then we have swiving, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g, shafting, rutting and f.u.c.king. And we cannot forget rolling in the hay, raiding the honey pot and sucking the pump dry, which is what you did to me just last night." His eyes danced merrily until tears ran down her flushed cheeks.

"Wait a minute, what about boffing, rocking and riding?" she asked in mock inquiry.

"You, my pet, are a very quick study. And speaking of studying, do you feel you mastered your lessons last night?"

"Umm, yes, I believe I am now qualified to write the fiftieth book of the Kama Sutra."

"In that case, I think a test is in order."

Chapter Fourteen.

She felt lazy, sated and deliciously sore as she headed toward the large dining hall with all the murals. They transcended art and seemed to tell stories about the history of the Gattonians. Engrossed in her examination, she didn't notice Rosik until he stood beside her. "These are simply lovely, do they depict the history of your people, or are they just beautiful pictures?"

Rosik answered thoughtfully, "They tell stories of our ancestors. It is an ancient craft handed down generation to generation. We have artisans that do nothing but study art form and history from the time they are toddlers. It is a much-respected pastime and they are well compensated.

"This grouping depicts Gattonia with our skies and buildings, while these over here tell a story of our early encounters with the Egyptians and the making of the pyramids."

"You used to wear s.p.a.ce-suits. There are similar drawings in the tomes of the pyramids, but where theirs are primitive, yours are lush and detailed," she spoke reverently as she examined each scene in detail.

"We wore pressurized suits to protect existing life forms from our contaminants, not for self protection. After the Egyptians and other species we encountered had been sufficiently inoculated, we shed the protective attire. But this precaution is already familiar to you because of your own history with the Native American Indian." He spoke matterof-factly. Her head positively spun from his revelations and what it all meant. She felt like he'd just opened the door to OZ.

"I asked Zorroc about the pyramids," Cat interjected as her gaze lit on another grouping. "This group of murals seems to ill.u.s.trate Gattonians and Egyptians working together to design and construct several pyramids, complete with larger than life sculptures of varying shapes."

"Ours was one of many species to visit your planet. Egypt was designated the universal landing point onto your world, and the pyramids, the result of the combined effort of many off-worlders, all of whom were treated as G.o.ds. Egypt nourished a simple and superst.i.tious people. Not only were off-worlders treated as G.o.ds but also many of there own creatures, native to the land. And if an alien species remotely resembled one of their native creatures, as ours did, they became even more revered."

"What do these represent?" The section of wall showcased a group of four murals. The first depicted a beautiful, young Egyptian woman and an equally handsome man talking to a group of Gattonians. The next mural portrayed a journey by boat to lands far away with battles fought along the way. The third conveyed a land of green rolling glens with simply clad people, fairies, goblins, leprechauns and pookas in various shapes and forms dotting the hills and trees. The final mural showed a s.p.a.ce ship lifting off into the sky leaving the bustling hillsides below.

"This tells the story of Scota and her husband Mil Espaine and their service to our people when we were in need of a.s.sistance. One of our ships crash-landed north and west of Egypt, stranded in a foreign and unexplored land.

"Scota, the daughter of a powerful pharaoh called Nectanebus, and her husband, Mil Espaine, a commander in her father's army, were preparing a journey to Mil's homeland. It happened to be close to the location of our downed ship. Though Mil perished in a battle along the way, Scota continued on and led us to our crew. She became so revered by Mil's people that eventually they named that particular piece of land after her. In ancient times it was known as Scotia. Now it is called Scotland. The Celtic people, initially confused and unsure of us because of our appearance, later gave us the name of an already established spirit called "pooka" because of our feline eyes and man like body."

Fly specs! She'd been wallowing in fly specs while miracles surrounded her at every turn. It made so much sense. So they really were pookas, she'd been right all along. She was married to a pooka. She yipped and flung her arms around Rosik to thank him for the history lesson but was immediately hurled away by the force of a frosty gale wind named Zorroc. Her cat man had arrived at an awkward moment. He had the look of a glacier but was panting too hard to be totally still.

Rosik looked amused. "You have a very curious mate, Zorroc," he intoned calmly.

"How much have you revealed to her?"

"Pretty much everything. She is a very enthusiastic pupil," he added while lewdly arching his eyebrows.

Zorroc leveled a censorious look at his mate and commented softly, "Curiosity, killed the Cat."

"Yes, but satisfaction brought her back," she returned playfully. "I think I'll write a book t.i.tled 'I married a Pooka', what do you think, best seller material?"

Zorroc gave her a mock look of ferociousness before turning an amused eye toward Rosik, and addressing them both. "There is a meeting to debrief Catarina on her abduction, to try and make sense of how the Dargons found us to begin with. You will both come with me." He snagged Cat's waist in a possessive gridlock and led them to a large conference area where Sycor, Bandoff, and Prolinc waited.

"Tell us all you can remember, Catarina, take your time for this will probably take the remainder of the afternoon," stated Prolinc in pure security mode.

She licked her lips and began her tale trying to leave nothing out.

They determined it had been no random finding. Their party had been set up and it almost had to have come from one of their own crewmembers or a high-ranking official apprised of their location. That being the case, it followed that they remained at risk. Which woman had they been after; because it was clear, they searched for a specific name. Was it Cat? Zorroc had a sick feeling that was exactly who they had targeted. For what purpose, blackmail, ransom, murder? None of the options were palatable. Could there be an a.s.sa.s.sin among the crew that would eventually go after Cat?

"It is impossible to believe one of my crew could be capable of such perfidy," Zorroc stated as the full measure of betrayal began to take shape.

"Maybe they are not. Maybe they just think they are reporting routinely to a friend or higher source-who in turn relays the information to the Dargons?," Rosik proposed. "You are the Leader of our people, Zorroc, surely you have political enemies. Who would kill in order to fulfill their own political aspirations? I am sure our viper will be found in that nest."

Zorroc considered the commander thoughtfully. Rosik had never before served directly with Zorroc, therefore the two did not know each other well; but with each pa.s.sing day he began to trust Rosik as one of his own command. His mind was razor sharp and if Rosik had a less than stellar att.i.tude, well, Zorroc supposed he had earned that much. His loyalty toward Zorroc had been unflinching and stood greatly appreciated.

"There is something else," Rosik continued. "The Miramid had been ordered to another galaxy three days before the attack on your ship. If not for crucial repairs necessary for galaxy jump, your distress beacon would not have reached us. Your rescue would have been postponed for days at least, maybe even a month. It was sheer luck we remained available to a.s.sist."

"The muck gets deeper the more we probe. Catarina," Zorroc directed, "there was a time that you were blocked from me and I could not read you; what was happening?" All eyes turned to Cat; the question eliciting surprise from Rosik. He had not known they were mind-linked.

"One of the Dargons came to me stark naked except for a stupid cape and a large knife. His name was Gorn. I guess you guys don't know about Star Trek either, huh?" Her hunch was confirmed by their blank stares. "Well, he started pounding around in some sort of Aboriginal type dance and his appendage grew to ma.s.sive proportions.

"What! Use your imagination. Anyway, he smelled terrible and the entire cave reverberated and then he stopped right in front of me, waiting for me to do something," she finished, reliving the picture of the sweating, stinking, panting monster with a d.i.c.k the size of her leg and shuttered.

"What happened then," Prolinc asked almost against his will.

"I clapped," she answered.

Surely he could not have heard right, Zorroc stared fixedly at Cat; he thought she had said she clapped. "As in clapped your hands?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, what would you have done?"