Prince of Cats Read online

  Prince of Cats

  By

  Susan A. Bliler

  Copyright © 2012 by Susan Bliler

  www.susanbliler.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Cover Artwork done by:

  Kevin Paige

  www.kwpphoto.com

  Spine and back cover done by:

  Cindy Hubbard

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Susan A. Bliler.

  DEDICATION

  For Angie

  Come home sister.

  We miss you…we need you.

  Chapter 1

  Eighty-three days, Neomee reflected ruefully as she carried a large platter of fruit into the great dining hall of the main temple. Her thick ebony braid fell over one shoulder across the front of her tunic and dangled down to her sandaled feet as she bent to pick up the plump mango that had rolled off her platter and onto the dusty ground. Standing, she eyed the busy dining hall and her eyes locked with those of the Slave Master.

  Damn! She’d hoped he hadn’t witnessed her folly, but wasn’t surprised that he had. To make matters worse she’d raised her eyes from the floor to seek out his location. Double damn! She’d pay for her two infractions later, now it was time for the Cats of Thebes to be served their evening meal.

  The Cat’s of Thebes were the guardians of the Egyptian Temples. It was rumored that the Gods, in appreciation of the guardian’s devout service, had granted them the ability to shift into the form of the sacred cat. The guardians were supposedly imbued with the spirit of the cheetah and could shift to the animals form at will. While Neomee had never witnessed any activity that would support such an impossibility, she also chose not to challenge the validity of the tale either. She was after all trying to go unnoticed, regardless of how difficult her rebellious nature made the task.

  Neomee had been a slave to the House of Cats for eighty-three days. Prior to arriving at the temple she’d been owned as a slave by a wealthy family who, with a little help from Neomee, had decided to sell her into a more torturous existence.

  Since her arrival at the temple she’d gone to great lengths to keep from drawing attention, but periodically she was chastised, slapped, or kicked by the Slave Master. He’d catch her raising her eyes from the floor, leaning against a wall, sitting when she should have been standing, drinking water from the Cat’s faience pitchers, or violating one of the too numerous rules that governed her slave’s life. But for the most part, Neomee played the part of obedient slave. It was all part of her plan.

  She was bidding her time, knowing the Master would eventually stop paying such close attention. Once she’d familiarized herself well enough with the House of Cats, and when the timing and planning were just right, she’d make a break for it.

  The thought of running from the House of Cats was terrifying. She still wasn’t sure if promoted slaves would be sent after her once she made her escape or if the Cats themselves would be commanded to hunt her down. The latter would surely cost her life, which meant her plan had to be flawless. She didn’t know much about the Cats of Thebes, but the one thing she knew without question was that the Cats were infamous throughout the land for their ability to hunt. Like true Cats, they thrived on stalking their prey. Any prey.

  With the Honoring of Osiris festival fast approaching, Neomee prayed that her plans would align and she’d make her escape the night of the great festival when slaves and Cats alike would both be too preoccupied to immediately notice her absence. Until then she simply needed to play the part of the submissive slave. She’d need to keep her head down and her mouth shut, but with her free spirit both seemed an impossible task.

  Amon, I can’t wait to escape! Neomee shook her head, disgusted with her situation as she followed the parade of slaves deeper into the dining hall. It was truly a struggle everyday to keep small pieces of herself from dying. Unlike the other House of Cats slaves, Neomee had not lost her fight, her spark, that part of herself that constantly told her that one day she would be a slave no longer, that one day she’d be free.

  The slaves were divided into two categories. There were slaves, like Neomee, who were usually bought, traded, or sold to the House of Cats, and there were promoted slaves. Promoted slaves were born into slavery at the House of Cats. The children of slaves, they carried obedience in their blood. Promoted slaves had put in enough time and had been dutiful long enough that they’d proved themselves worthy of a few privileges the other slaves had yet to earn. Promoted slaves were constantly looking for ways to impress the Slave Master and gain his favor. The slaves looked at promoted slaves the way a patriot would look at a traitor. Promoted slaves were known for their cutthroat tactics and willingness to throw a fellow slave to the lions to promote themselves, always seeking advancement in an impossible existence.

  Walking through the doorway to the dining hall, Neomee passed under the inscription that had been carved into the stone above the door.

  Great Cat thou art the avenger of the Gods

  the judge of the word

  the keeper of the people

  the guardian of the temples

  and the protector of the holy Circle

  thou art indeed the Great Cat

  Neomee entered the hall and walked up to place her platter in the center of a long wooden table. She kept her chin down as her eyes cautiously lifted to scan the Cats sitting at one of several oblong tables that occupied the dining hall. Each of the men was impossibly larger then the next. Each with their chiseled torso and dark eyes facing stoically forward, sitting erect as statutes waiting for the food to be placed before they’d relax their posture and eat.

  Not bad scenery. Neomee bit her lower lip to hide a smile as she placed her platter of fruit on the table. Her eyes were focused on the black speckles that most Cats had painted on their broad shoulders. Cheetahs.

  Backing away from her placed platter, her elbow hit a carafe of wine that sat on the table. She could only watch in horror as the carafe tipped, spilling its entire contents on the Cat closest to her.

  Without thinking, Neomee pulled up the hem of her gown and began brushing the wine from the Cat as best she could, “Amon, I am sorry.” Neomee’s flimsy white tunic did little to absorb the red wine that covered the chest, lap, and legs of the Cat. She didn’t stop wiping as the Cat stood, the wine that had puddle in his lap, now poured from his leather kilt.

  “Please forgive me. I-I…,” raising her eyes to the Cat, Neomee froze in place when her eyes met his.

  Dark brows furrowed over eyes the color of onyx. Neomee stood only to his thickly muscled chest, which she noticed was marred with several white scars that resembled claw marks. A square jaw line and pronounced cheek bones were set in the most handsome face she’d ever seen. Jet-black hair was pulled back in a braid that hung to a tapered waist. He was a bronze God and she couldn’t stop staring.

  While Neomee struggled to formulate a coherent sentence, the Cat’s stare bore into her, his full lips, set in a grim line, gave no hint of emotion. Was that lightening she felt coursing through her veins?

  Look away damn you! She cursed herself even as she tore her eyes from the Cat and realized that her hands were still stroking down his long lean frame. She quickly released her hem, dropped her hands to her sides and her eyes to the floor. Slaves were never to raise their eyes from the floor, and it was unheard of for a slave to even consider speaking to a Ca
t, let alone touch or even look at one.

  Shaking her head at her loss for words, she couldn’t even formulate a title to tie to her apology, as no slave had ever addressed a Cat directly. Meekly she offered the only title she was permitted to use. “Master, please forgive me. I meant you no disrespect. I…,” Her words were cut off as the Slave Master’s opened hand collided with the side of her face sending a blinding pain through her that caught her off guard and sent her sprawling on the dirt covered ground.

  Raising her head defiantly to glare at the Slave Master, Neomee debated on punching him in his manhood.

  The Slave Master eyed her incredulously, “You disrespectful...,” he again slapped her upturned face.

  Just take the punishment! Neomee knew the entire dining hall was watching the spectacle. She was trying with all her will to coax herself into being submissive but was so angry that it was a losing battle.

  Slowly rising to her feet to stand between the towering Cat and the menacing Slave Master, she licked at the trickle of blood that was seeping from the corner of her mouth. She knew she should have stayed cowering on the ground, but it wasn’t in her.

  “I apologized. It was an accident.” She finally lowered her eyes and fought to keep them locked on the floor.

  The Slave Master barked, “It was an accident? Is this how you address me?”

  Leaving her chin low, Neomee raised her eyes to scowl up at the Slave Master. Seconds passed and she refused to supply the term ‘master’ that he sought.

  “I’ll show you who’s in charge.” Angrily, the Slave Master lifted his hand to slap Neomee a third time, but just as his hand was about to collide with her cheek it was halted.

  The Cat standing behind her caught the Slave Master’s hand before it could connect.

  “Prince!” As if just now recognizing the Cat behind her, the Slave Master’s tone grew apologetic. “Please forgive me. I only seek to punish this impudent slave for her great disrespect to you.” The Slave Master was bowing repeatedly in a disgusting display of submission. “Please Prince. If you permit I shall take her to the quarters where I promise you Prince, her punishment will be severe for having interrupted your evening meal.”

  Prince? Great! Of course he’s a Prince. I wouldn’t spill wine on just any old Cat now would I? Neomee’s frame was taut with tension as she wondered if the Cat was in fact a Prince or if that was the title given to all Cats.

  “Leave it.” The Cat’s growled command left the Slave Master confused.

  The Cat dropped the Slave Master’s arm and crossed to stand directly in front of her as if to shield her from the Slave Master’s view. Neomee couldn’t see the Slave Master over the Cat’s massive frame. She eyed the three black stripes painted down the expanse of the Prince Cat’s impressive back. She knew the stripes accompanied by the speckles painted on his broad shoulders were distinctly similar to the pelt pattern of the king cheetah.

  The Slave Master reached around the Prince and grabbed Neomee roughly by the arm, “Yes Prince! As you wish.”

  The Prince Cat locked strong fingers around the Slave Master’s wrist. “Leave her!”

  “Prince, yes! Yes, my Prince.” The Slave Master backed away from the Cat and exited the room.

  Neomee was actually trembling when the Cat turned to face her. Startled by his quick movement, she sucked in a breath before she realized she was staring. Quickly, she dropped her head and focused on the floor. She didn’t raise her eyes as the Cat lifted a large hand to her cheek and slid it down. Strong fingers lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. Then his index finger swiped across her chin to wipe the blood that trickled there. Neomee slowly backed away as the Prince lifted the bloody finger to his mouth and sucked the blood from the tip.

  Turning, she quickly strode to the far wall to take her place among the slaves that waited there. Typically the slaves would line the wall and stand quietly, eyes averted, until the Cats had finished their meal.

  Finding her place, Neomee filled in her position and turned to face the dining hall, eyes still averted, body still trembling. None of the slaves were permitted to speak or even move.

  A chorus of murmurs rose in the dining hall as the Cats were finally able to commence their evening meal.

  Standing against the wall, Neomee could still feel the Prince Cat’s eyes as they bore into her. She wondered if he still watched her or if the feeling was just residual from his earlier intense scrutiny that had left her feeling oddly aware of herself.

  Several minutes into the meal, Neomee decided enough time had passed. She had to know. Slowly, she let her eyes slide over to the Cat…Prince. Amon! Their eyes locked and again Neomee felt a strange energy coursing through her body. The Prince stared back.

  Neomee knew she should look down, but could not. What was that expression he was wearing? Anger? Hatred? Pity? No. Neomee’s face paled with the realization as she tore her eyes away and looked down. Desire. Unmistakable, unbidden, desire.

  Granted she were a slave and the lowest form of life existing in the temple, hell even the scorpions were revered, but slave or not she was still a woman, and she knew desire when she read it on a man’s face.

  For the remainder of the meal, Neomee fought her urge to look back to the Prince, but she knew he never took his eyes from her. She bristled knowing he still watched her.

  Dinner seemed to drag on forever. Finally as Cats rose and began to trickle out of the dining hall, Neomee still refused to raise her eyes. Starring down at her sandaled feet, concentrating too hard, Neomee’s head snapped up as the slave next to her inhaled sharply.

  Amon! The Prince Cat was approaching. Quickly, Neomee dropped her gaze to the floor and even as the Prince stopped and stood mere inches in front of her, she refused to look up. She could feel the tension in her fellow slaves on either side of her and noted that they inched away from her. Wringing her hands behind her back, her breath caught as the Prince leaned in and sniffed her.

  Whoa!

  In the Temple, in the village, and in the outlying farms, the Cats were allowed to claim any female they chose. The only stipulation was that the female could not already be claimed by another. Other than that, the Cats chose their mates at will. Neomee had heard that unlike actual Cheetahs, the temple Cats mated for life, and once chosen by a Cat, a female’s fate was sealed.

  Maybe that wasn’t desire. Maybe he’s just still really mad that I dumped wine all over him. Amon, please let it be anger! Neomee’s heart skidded to a halt. Did he just growl at me? What do I do? What do I do?

  As Neomee fought to keep from trembling, her fear and anxiety gave way to anger. Are you just going to stand here and let him sniff and growl at you? It was only wine!

  Angrily, Neomee raised her head and locked eyes with the Prince. “I said I was sorry. It truly was an accident...Master.”

  The Prince glared down at her for a brief moment before erupting into laughter. Neomee was not amused. Still laughing, the Prince pulled a knife from its sheath at his waist, and held it up in front of Neomee’s face. She sucked in a sharp breath and backed up until she was pressed into the wall. I should’ve kept my mouth shut!

  The Prince’s laugh died away and he placed his hand against Neomee’s cheek. Save for the tremble that now wracked her body, she didn’t move. The Prince slid his hand back, smoothing over her hair and down her long braid. He wound it around his large hand keeping his eyes locked on hers. When his fingers reached the bottom of the braid, he held it up between his fingers and used his knife to cut off a few inches at the bottom. He dropped the braid and held the cut-off portion of her hair up to his nose and inhaled.

  “Mmmm....” He smiled at Neomee then turned and strode from the room.

  Chapter 2

  At first Bray had been startled then highly annoyed that the slave had inadvertently dumped her jar of wine onto his lap. But when he’d stood to scold her, his reprimand caught in his throat.

  She was staring up at him with startling blue eyes. She sp
oke to him then actually touched him. No slave had ever spoken to him before and the only female hands that had ever dared to touch him had been those of his mate and then only after he’d claimed her. While the slave’s touch was shocking it was gentle and a flood of memories came rushing back. The memories were of lying with a woman, exploring her supple body and allowing her to explore his much harder frame. It was alarming in both that he enjoyed the slaves touch and that he wanted it to continue.

  He thought the slave might be new to the temple, but when the Slave Master appeared it was apparent that he was very familiar with her. When the Slave Master struck her Bray had to physically fight his Cat’s urge to shift. The woman was small and thin but with curves in all the right places. Her appearance called forth Bray’s protective instincts the ones he once thought dormant.

  As Bray struggled to control himself without showing any outward sign of his inner turmoil the Slave Master hit the woman again.

  He remembered looking down expecting the small female to be crying or cowering or both; instead, she was glaring up at the Slave Master all but begging him to hit her again. And he’d tried. It was then that Bray’s Cat surged forth and forced Bray to keep the Slave Master from touching the woman again.

  He’d placed himself between the beautiful slave and the Slave Master but the Slave Master attempted to reach around him to take her. The affront angered Bray more than it should have and the Slave Master was lucky that he’d escaped with his arm intact.

  When he’d turned back to the woman she was bleeding. His eyes focused on the blood at the corner of her mouth and he licked his lips at the sweet scent of it. He’d scented blood many times, nearly daily in training, but none had smelled as sweet as hers. It was captivating, enticing.

  Still close to the surface his Cat demanded a taste and Bray couldn’t keep from touching her satiny looking skin and dipping a finger into the blood pooled at the corner of her mouth before plunging the same finger into his own mouth. She was sweet.