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Prince of Cats
Prince of Cats
Prince of Cats
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Prince of Cats

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Having finally escaped her duty as the slave for a prominent family, Neomee’s joy is short lived. Much to her horror, she has been reassigned to the Temple, better known among her people as the House of Cats.

Growing up she’d heard stories of the Guardian Cats and their ability to shift. Now she’ll have the opportunity to witness these so-called Cats up close. Intrigued by the notion, Neomee is also simultaneously petrified. She learns quickly that her previous antics won’t be tolerated in the House of Cats and what’s worse; her once untouchable status has been removed. Apparently, Guardian Cats are not only permitted to use the slave women as their “play” things, but it’s actually encouraged! Neomee struggles to keep her head down and her mouth shut while plotting her escape from her life as a slave.

Bray’s existence in the temple has been a dull and meaningless one. Even designated as the revered Prince of Cats, he still couldn’t bring himself to overcome the loss of his mate. That was until a young slave unintentionally pulls him from what he believed was an unending self-loathing.

With his full attention now captured Bray notices the young slave, Neomee, isn’t like the others. At closer inspection, he discovers she hides a willful spirit and wild beauty under the façade of slave-like obedience.

Unfortunately for Neomee, she does the one thing you should never do where a Cat is concerned, she runs. Unable to control his instincts, Bray gives chase and once he has captured his prey he’s unwilling to relinquish her.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 9, 2014
ISBN9781310494413
Prince of Cats
Author

Susan A Bliler

My pack territory is in Central Montana, between Stone Crow estates and the North Fortress. Born and raised in an untamed location that bridges the gap between rolling prairies and majestic mountain peaks, I am born to a family that also bridges the gap between cultures. My father’s people boast a fiercely proud Scottish ancestry while my mother’s tribes descend from two savagely beautiful and unique nations that inspire my Skin Walkers series. I'm a huge fan of MMA, boxing, hockey, 30 Seconds to Mars, Linkin Park, DMX, the Killers, and 21 Pilots (“sometimes quiet is violent”). I also love to read because it encourages me to write. (I hate it when authors add that they love coffee and chocolate. Really? Who doesn't love coffee and chocolate?) Anyway, I love beer...kidding. I don't love beer but we are engaged in a very serious relationship. (Mom, please don't call me when you read this.) Check me out at www.susanbliler.com Please leave feedback. Believe it or not I actually read your opinions/suggestions and try to adapt my work accordingly. A’hau.

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Prince of Cats - Susan A Bliler

Prince of Cats

By

Susan A. Bliler

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 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 biding 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 Cat, 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

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