Don't Call Me Kitten! Read online

  He glanced nervously at the calendar on the wall, as if it was a ticking time bomb on his global empire. Only trouble was he didn't know how long was left on the count down. The Malakim had tried 100,000 years ago to stop his kind reaching this planet. He'd beaten them then he'd beat them now. Feeling better he looked over at the armor plated door that barricaded his office. A low pitched alarm and flashing light on the security panel notifying him that someone wished to enter. Calling up the security camera he quickly identified the man but wasn't going to let him in that easy. “Put your eye to the camera.” He ordered over the intercom. The computer verified the man's ID so Sakla grudgingly pressed the release lock on the door. The new security procedures did little to reassure him that his place on the planet was permanent.

  A bland looking expressionless man entered carrying a notepad. Sakla smirked to himself. He knew that ploy. The man was trying to look busy. Perhaps they'd recruited him from the higher echelons of government. “What is it Smith?”

  “Sir, we've intercepted an encrypted email from the female subject the Russian mob notified us about.”

  “And... what did it say? I haven't got all day.”

  “Sir?” Smith voice took on a pained tone. “It's encrypted.”

  “I know that, that's what you just said. I'd assumed you'd cracked it. Do you at least know who it was to?”

  Smith sucked his breath in. The boss wasn't going to like this. “That Malakim in Japan, the one that goes by the weird name of Jnarn.”

  “Shit! And you got nothing else out of the message.”

  “Only the subject heading.”

  Sakla glared at the man meaningfully. “Your life is ticking away Smith. What did it say?”

  “Just some ancient Greek word. Eureka!”

  Fuck, damn those geneticists. “It means they've found it.”

  “Found what Sir? Do you want me to send for General Polemarch?”

  “No I particularity don't want you to tell Polemarch.” Polemarch wasn't exactly on his favored list since his troops had stuffed up in the Himalayas. This was all getting out of hand. He needed a bolder plan of attack to tackle the enemy.”Arrange for one of our agents in Moscow to watch the subject but he’s not to interfere with her. There’s some lucrative trade deal hanging on her short-term safety. We won’t touch her while she remains in the Russian Mafia’s territory. As soon as she sets so much as one foot on Australian soil have her killed.”

  “Yes Sir. Anything else Sir.”

  “Yes, set me up a teleconference with the commander at our base on the dark side of the moon and get me some up-to-date satellite photos of Boswell and its surrounding area.”

  Smith saluted and quickly made his escape, happy to have come out of Sakla's office alive. Few did. The boss was rather known for removing the entrails of anyone who brought him even slightly bad news.

  Neither nervous Smith or fuming Sakla noticed the tiny aphid atop Sakla's much mauled rubber tree plant as it took flight, leaving via the vent system.

  4

  Present day...

  Tyra held the mobile phone to her ear, glaring at the direction the discussion was going in. “No they can’t just go ahead and blithely demolish the adjacent buildings. That’s the town’s history they’re wanting to bulldoze. If they want building approval to build their supermarket on Valeton’s disused recreation ground they need to come up with a design that sympathetically incorporates the existing structures and puts them to good use. We’re offering to give them the land anyway. They can give a bit back. Perhaps a childcare facility and fun park where shoppers can safely leave their children. Free site-wide WiFi, a taxi rank and a once a week shuttle bus for the old age home residents.”

  “Yes I do want much. They’re a global corporation with more money than any single country in the world today. And make sure they get an archeologist to document the history of those buildings and do some interpretive signage.”

  “Yes they’ll have my backing if they agree to all that. Yeah I’ll see you at the meeting tonight. Oh and by the way, if those buildings mysteriously burn down the whole deal’s off, is that understood?” She hit end and threw the phone on the bed in disgust then stretched out an arm so Arion could help her into the jacket he'd chosen for her. “I don't wear suits?”

  Arion had always known it was going to be a tough job getting Tyra to dress the part. She wasn't one for dressing up, accept that is when she was doing it for her guys but that was in the privacy of their home. “Mayors wear them. Impressions are important. I'm just trying to paint a scene with these clothes. Something that says power, confidence and don't mess with me, or something like that.”

  Tyra sighed as she put her other arm in the jacket. “I appreciate this, I really do. I just...how the hell did all this happen?”

  “It happened because you care. Cripes, the holdups because of the new building regulations have been frustrating the hell out of all of us. But it was you who got up the gumption to do that radio interview. After that it was inevitable that everyone would get behind you. All you had to do was put your name on the ballot paper.”

  “I just didn't expect...”

  “Yeah, I know, stuff happens like that sometimes.”

  A wash of guilt rolled over Tyra. Here she was whinging to someone who'd spent millennia trapped in stone. “Sorry Arion.”

  “Hey. It's good to face these things head on. Just don't waste too much energy angsting over it. It is what it is. You'll be great. You already are great. Now pirouette around so I can decide what jewelery and shoes go with this.”

  “As long as it's not pearls.”

  “Pearls look great on women in power.”

  “Pink pearls?”

  Arion had a sudden vision of Tyra draped in strands of pink pearls. He would gently tug them against her nipples. Maybe fasten a strand at her waist. His cock twitched thoughtfully. But somehow he couldn't see the members of the Shire's Chamber of Commerce seeing the potential of pink pearls. “I don't think so.”

  “Well I'll wear the dolphin pendant you gave me then. That's my good luck charm.”

  Arion was glad that she valued the pendant, it had been his mother’s before she’d evolved on to a plane of existence where jewellry held little meaning. “It's dainty enough to be understated.”

  Tyra took her chance while Arion was distracted in his musing to make a grab for her favorite strap on sandals.

  Arion was quicker and snatched them out or her hands, replacing them with a pair of elegant black heels. “Simple and Italian.”

  “Who's going to know where the shoes were made?”

  “Believe me there are those who will know. If you want to vent your inner rebel wear some stockings and suspenders. You know we'll be salivating just thinking about them.”

  Thex and Simon materialized into the bedroom, along with their cat. All three of them seemed to be enjoying the show. Thex came over for a closer inspection of Tyra's outfit, caressing the straight of her back and adjusting her collar before stepping back apparently pleased. “You've got that right Arion.”

  “Well isn't that going to frustrate the hell out of all of you while we all sit through this Council meeting.”

  Simon's eyes twinkled with mischief. He was obviously already scheming. “We'll be anticipating removing them from you. All that power. I may need to remind you of your place. The place in my heart that is.”

  Tyra blushed, the rest of her blood rushing to heat her core. “Sheesh. Stop it Simon. You're making me wet.”

  Simon came over and whispered in her ear. Not that the others couldn't hear but the effect was intimate and sent a shiver through Tyra. “I'll behave...but only until I don't have to.”

  5

  Damn he was still there! It was the same blank faced mobster in dark glasses who’d been following her since she’d left her home. He was short but thick set with balding hair and distinguished by a hefty mustache that matched the thickness of his bushy brows. His ill fitting oversized
jacket was ominously bulky even if there was no way he could have gotten a gun past airport security.

  Returning from a loo stop she’d casually walked back to her seat, surreptitiously taking in his measure as she went past his row. He’d have to be dealt with after they landed but for now she'd keep pretending she hadn’t noticed him. Like icing on her cake of troubles her allocated seat wasn’t getting any better either. After nearly twenty one hours in the air it wasn’t getting any softer, or bigger. There was only one description she felt about her current accommodation and that was ‘wedged’.

  No one she knew would dare call her large but a few had been brazen enough to call her ‘big boned’ to her face. Usually the look she gave them was enough for them to go white as a sheet and never mention it again. Something about the scar on her face made them back away in fear. Quietly honest with herself though, at nearly six feet tall and eleven stone she was ... well ... big boned. But since she had less than three percent body fat on her whole body she didn’t see that as a big deal. She smiled to herself with the knowledge it kept men at bay as well, men who weren’t put off by the scar. Really she had no time for the other half of her species, except in a professional capacity. Even her below shoulder viking blond hair, classic high boned cheeks, clear blue eyes and ample chest weren’t enough for most guys to get up the nerve to talk to her casually. The guy in the window seat, next to her, was nearly hugging the window, just to keep his distance. She refrained from looking at him so as not to intimidate him any more than he already was. The last thing she needed was him clambering past her to escape.

  The English woman, Sue, in the aisle seat had been friendly enough. They’d chatted briefly about the sights in Moscow but mostly they’d just read their respective ebooks and slept, only occasionally stirring to accept an inflight meal or drink from a passing hostess. Somehow she didn’t think the smartly dressed business woman in her white pressed shirt, tailored suit and no-nonsense flat shoes would like what she was reading but you could never tell just from appearances alone.

  One thing her “other’ job had taught her was that appearances could be deceiving. She’d learnt to be perceptive to the little things most people missed: tiny mannerisms, the rate and depth of the breath, the dilation or contraction of the pupils, the changing shades of a person’s skin... And if you could touch a person even better. The temperature and moisture or dryness of their skin or a thin bead of sweat could tell you oh so much. But the woman’s breathing hadn’t changed and there was no wave of heat or cold coming off her, no pheromones of fear or arousal. So it wasn’t any thriller, horror or romance she was reading. She doubted her companion’s book was much more than a guide to negotiating her next business deal. Maybe it helped her go to sleep.

  Personally she didn’t trust the man seated five rows back so she only lightly immersed herself in one of her favorite novels. Her No 1 kick ass heroine was busy sucking the life out of some psychopathic shape shifter who'd badly messed up one of her men. Helena let the adrenalin and vicarious arousal the story gave her keep her awake. Another few hours and they’d be landing in Sydney. If she could lose her tag maybe she could get some sleep on her connecting flight.

  6

  The feel of the Bentley's keys in her hand gave Tyra immense pleasure. It had been months since Simon had given her his old Bentley GT Sports when she'd asked for it. She hadn't had the heart to see it sold. It had soul. Simon's essence pervaded it. Convincing George Morrisby, Simon's chauffeur, to let her drive it had been a whole different kettle of fish. He'd insisted she learn to drive it like it deserved. Now that she'd finished all her advanced driver training George no longer had any excuse not to hand over the keys but he'd still been reluctant, seeing it as his job to drive her to the council meeting. In the end Tyra had gotten devious. She knew George had a soft spot for the local electrician Ally. They were more than just good friends, they were a team. Often working late into the night on one engineering project or the other. Sometimes ably assisted by Upal and Mendal, two ex-Din who were now their friends as well as allies.

  Trouble was Ally seemed resistant to George's more intimate advances. Rumour had it that she'd had her heart burnt when she was a teenager. The offending fink had long since left town but Ally hadn't had a relationship since.

  Tyra, knowing that Ally was a closet gourmet, convinced George to entice her with some of the food from his homeland. With the help of their local chef extraordinaire, Simon, they had prepared a sumptuous mix of vegetarian delights. Not something that was that easy given that most Sudanese food was meat based or full of onions and hot chillis. One of the side effects of the retrovirus all the mortals in the town had taken was an aversion to such things. Which meant the town had a burgeoning trade in swapping vegan recipes. Given the learning curve everyone was going through it hadn't proven too difficult to pique Ally's interest in trying something different and exotic. So George was serving dinner tonight and Tyra had the keys to her car.

  Simon settled into the passenger seat beside her, immediately relaxing into a trance. Tyra thought it pretty cool that Simon was that prepared to trust her driving. The two discretely but heavily armed warriors in the back seemed content to nut out the workings of the backseat DVD system. Thex and Arion had recently discovered Sci-fi and were avidly working their way through the genre, every time they got a free moment. The fact that the Galaxy's supreme commander of the space fleet and his second in command were cuddled up in the back enjoying an evil alien shoot em up just plain did it for her. Life was good. It would get even better if she gave in to the urge to test the Bentley's speed from zero to sixty miles per hour, rumoured to be about 4.2 seconds. She glanced guiltily at Simon's peaceful form before glancing in the rear-vision mirror at Thex. No help there, reading her mind he just grinned and gave her a thumbs up. A fleeting mental connect to the town's local cops and she knew where they were. The road was all hers. Biting her lip to quell her glee she turned the key and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

  Yup...it really did do 4.2 seconds. Simon didn't stir, except for a raised eyebrow and a twitch of the lips.

  7

  Upal rolled up his sleeve. “I know this has worked on the whole town but you sure this is going to work on us, we’re not exactly human Jnarn?”

  “That’s what we want to find out. Tests I’ve done on your DNA show a fusion of human and Din genetic material. Simon’s mum, the Earth goddess, thinks it will be okay.”

  “Can you undo it if it goes wrong?”

  “You won’t die. Sally’s here in case you flat line on us.” Jnarn evaded answering the question.

  “Great, that’s really reassuring. No offence Sally.” His tone let all concerned know he wasn’t convinced.

  “None taken. It’s not as if I’ve had to go through any of this myself.”

  ‘Hey that’s a point. Why don’t I just get one of you guys to give me a bit of your essence, blood or semen.”

  “Well that last one you’re on your own with but even with the other two it would create a strong bond between us.”

  “But you’re not Meta’s mate.”

  “No. But I am connected with him on a very deep level. I think that’s why my immortality came with shapeshifting and healing abilities. It means I’m already part way to being at his evolutionary level. He knew I’d been John’s mate in many lives. He didn’t want either us burdened by an evolutionary mismatch.”

  “I can see that it would be kind of cheating to give me and Mendal those kind of abilities. Well apart from the shapeshifting which we can can do. We’ve barely redeemed ourselves for our past lives. But becoming a Malakim ...”

  “ … has to be worked at. While humans in the town have taken the treatment and are for all intents and purposes now immortal they will still need to work at growing their awareness of the oneness that connects us all if they want to raise their vibration rate to ascend to Malakim level.”

  “So no shortcuts”

  “No, no shortcuts, sorr
y.”

  “Bugger. Oh well. Better give me the damned shot then Jnarn.”

  “Actually you can roll down your sleeve. I came up with an aerosol delivery system before we gave the treatment to the town’s kids.” Jnarn passed him an inhaler. “All you have to do is breath in as you press the plunger.”

  “Easy-peasy!” He took his fill of it. “Okay what now?”

  “It should only take a few moments for the retrovirus to start invading your system.”

  “Nah, nothing happening... ah, shit!” A wash of heat flowed through him followed by a freezing cold as his blood rushed to his vital organs. He clutched his chest as pain seized his heart. Blackness took him.

  8

  With a mixture of guilt and self-preservation Helena used her size to intimidate her way off the plane, towards the front of the chaotic queue that was jostling for overhead luggage. She made her way purposefully to the nearest rest room in the gate lounge arrivals area. She needed a moment to make a call. To the casual observer she just looked like another tourist hurrying between flights, not like someone running for her life. She had little doubt that things would get difficult if her trailing mobster caught up with her. Hopefully he was still held up in the exit queue on the plane.