A Lost Kitten by Jessica Kong

slipped his head underneath the steaming water. He remained there, inhaling deep, allowing the water’s heat to seep into his bones. It succeeded in erasing the chill that resided there. A chill that even the blaze from the fireplace could not eradicate. It felt wonderful to be in his amphibian form. He felt stronger, healthier, and more at ease being in his second skin.
    He wondered how Dena would react if he allowed her to see him transform. Undoubtedly, she would act like many before her who had never come across a McCall. She would have freaked out and viewed him as a monster. John sat up. He reached for the soap and began to wash.
    Finished with his bath, John quickly patted his body dry and leapt under the covers. He lay on his back. Sleep eluded him, thanks to his worries on the war and the cold. He forced all thoughts from his mind, hoping that would allow him to fall asleep.
    He noticed an increase in the room’s temperature. At last, the fire was heating up the room. He detected the hint of vanilla in the air. He was determined to find the source tomorrow.
    John knew when he was thoroughly dried, for he felt his body return to normal. It became uncomfortably hot under the heavy quilt. He lowered the blanket to his hips. He deeply inhaled the delicious fragrance in the air and allowed it to wash over him, relaxing him further.
    Jasira stood above John. She indeed loved looking at his bare torso. Having felt no sensations for two decades, and knowing she would be able to feel him, she could not resist the temptation of familiarizing herself with his chiseled body. Therefore, she waited for the right moment.
    When John seemed to have drifted off, she gently touched his cheek. The smoothness of his face made her smile. Her hands lowered to the muscles at his chest. Her eyes fluttered closed. John felt exactly how she believed he would. Hard. Solid. Completely masculine.
    Since the night of the celebration, Jasira could not get John off her mind. Once she had overcome the shock of seeing him go through a solid door the day before, she tried to plan her next move. She thought it best to go slow. However, it was going to be difficult. John’s good looks made her extremely impatient to feel again.
    While she sat beside John, Jasira enjoyed the many peaks and valleys that made up his chest and stomach. His skin was warm to the touch. It placed tears in her eyes. She had forgotten what warmth felt like. She traced each small muscle with her fingers. Lower and lower they went, pausing at his narrow hips, just above the quilt’s edge.
    Back up they traveled to repeat the journey. Jasira stared at John’s face. She had wanted a permanent mate, any man. She had not been concerned with how he looked, as long as he was a man of honor and courageous. As she stared at John’s perfect features, she was overjoyed at how handsome he was.
    Jasira lowered her face to John’s. She stayed in that position for a while, observing him. She was slow to recognize another sensation she had forgotten—smell. Jasira sniffed John. The scent of clean skin mixed with pine made her features crumble. It was the soap John had used in his bath. Now she understood what the others meant when they spoke about pine scent.
    Closing her eyes, she placed her nose on John’s cheek and drew his scent deeper into her lungs. Tears formed beneath her lowered lashes. She ordered herself not to lose control of her emotions again. It took concentration, but she managed to stay calm.
    Her nose roamed over John’s forehead, cheek, nose, and chin. Her hands returned to exploring his chest and stomach. Gradually, Jasira became aware of another feeling. It started in the center of her core and steadily increased the longer she remained where she sat. This new feeling was powerful. It drowned out all reason. She lost track of where she was, of what she was doing. Jasira was being consumed by the feel and scent of her kindred soul.
    John showed signs of waking up.