It was a world of hideous savagery.

A cooling night wind blew across Rejar’s sensitive face while he gazed longingly up at the stars. Lifting the long strands of his hair in gentle wafting motions, the soothing breeze did little to ease him.

He was sitting in the window seat in Lilac’s bedroom. A habit of late. Especially in the small hours of the night when the peace of sleep was not to come. His large frame completely filled the seat; he rather liked the feeling of being enclosed on three sides. He supposed it was a carry over from his other self, not bothering to give it too much thought.

His sights flicked over to the bed where Lilac slept.

Even if the light of the full moon had not been illuminating the room, he still would have been able to see her quite clearly, his eyes having the ability of rapidly adjusting to changing light conditions.

Familiars often could sense physical changes in the body as well; and Lilac’s even, measured breathing told him she was deeply asleep. Conversely, any change in her breathing tempo precluded wakefulness, alerting him when to metamorphose back into his cat self.

To his advantage, Lilac usually fell asleep quickly and was slow to rouse. If nothing disturbed her, he knew she would sleep through the night.

If only I could do the same…

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to shut out the untenable horrors he had witnessed in the past two weeks. It did little good. Rejar believed the nightmarish visions would forever remain with him:

Mothers begging in the streets for food for their starving children while just a few streets away men and women dined in opulent excess, seeming either not aware of the misery, or not even caring, for that matter.

The streets were full of offal.

People lived in the worst filth and slime he had ever witnessed on any world. Yet there were others, those more privileged, who lived in grand houses with many servants to wait upon them. This wealth in and of itself was not disturbing; it was their seeming indifference to the conditions of those who suffered around them which staggered him.

He, himself, was from a privileged Aviaran family; his father, Krue, was a member of the ruling council, as well as a high-power Charl mystic. Yet no one in his family would ever allow such deprivation to go unanswered.

A more horrifying memory surfaced, causing him to shudder.

One day he had seen a small child run over in the street by a conveyance. The owner merely signaled the driver to move on, not even stopping to see to the injured boy.

Rejar could not believe what he was witnessing.

Still in cat form, he had run to the child, but it was too late. The boy died in the gutter.

Not one person stopped to see or help.

He stayed by the child, curled up to his side for the few moments it had taken the precious life to leave his body. It seemed to him the boy had smiled to him sweetly, just before he…

Rejar had gone into an alleyway and thrown up.

Well he would remember the face of the man who owned the coach. It was a face he would never forget, with cruel, dark eyes and sneering lips. He vowed he would find this man, and when he did, make him pay for his heinous crime.

Rejar recalled some of the other injustices he had seen: An old man hung by the neck for stealing food while on-watchers cheered at his suffering… On the streets, a rich man’s throat slit just for a few coins… Homeless children wandering aimlessly through the alleys, begging and worse…

It went on and on.

How could he exist in such a world?

He had no qualms about his ability to defend himself and what was his. His father had trained him well, making especially sure his half-breed Familiar son knew how to wield a weapon and how to fight for his own protection.

Against his wife’s wishes, Krue had brought his son up an Aviaran warrior. Later, his blood relative, Gian, had taught him the secret ways of the Familiar killhunt as well.

No, he had no qualms whatsoever about his physical survival.

But spiritually? This place was an assault on both his Familiar senses and sensibilities. Life seemed not precious at all to these people who squandered their resources so carelessly.

To be fair, in his travels he had seen many planets outside of the Alliance which were equally savage, although none had been quite so ignorant regarding their own savagery. Just the opposite. Such planets had a tendency to revel in their barbarism.

Not this one.

It was curious to note how civilized these people proclaimed themselves. They disdained anyone outside their enlightened society; their “ton.”

Rejar already knew what he must do to survive.

He must assume the persona of a man of position and means, for this world would never recognize him otherwise, and the alternative was unthinkable.

A position of recognition would also place him above the close scrutiny of others. This was imperative in this particular society whose fears and superstitions could easily turn against him.

He believed he had already found the right man to lead him into his new life. The man had first caught his attention while Rejar was observing a place where men went to wager vast sums of specie, a popular pastime here for men of fortune, it seemed.

Somewhat younger than Rejar, the man had a certain status within the society and his reckless passions perfectly lent themselves to Rejar’s purposes. At first, he thought the man’s name was George Gordon Noel, but later found out he was called Lord Byron. He was a baron, which Rejar learned was a title of some respect in this society.

Knowing this, Rejar had chosen his new identity with particular care. There was a distant land here called Russia. It was not easily accessible to these people, making it difficult for anyone to check on his story.

He had studied these people well, picking out the nuances which would allow him to appear to blend in with the society. It was a gift of his kind; another trait for which the mystics of the Charl sought out the Familiars.

Furthermore, his new identity would allow him easy access to Lilac; a situation he greatly desired. It was time for the hunt to progress.

His gold/blue eyes drifted to the bed again.

She had become a comfort to him in this strange new world. This house, a small haven from the madness outside.

He was grateful it was her and not another he had first come upon, for she was not like a lot of the other women he had observed here thus far. Lilac was genuinely kind and did not seem to care much for the socializing aspects of her society, preferring to stay at home sitting in the garden with only her “cat” for company.

He rather looked forward to those peaceful hours. With her gentle voice reading to him aloud from some book…This Fanny Burney seemed to be a special favorite of hers.

He smiled fondly as he remembered her exuberance for the prose which seemed somewhat melodramatic to him.

From the day he had come to this world, Rejar had held her protectively in his arms each and every night, keeping his own disturbing thoughts at bay. Their scents intermingled, and as the nights wore on she unconsciously began accepting him in her sleep more and more.

He liked the soft feel of her thin night garment next to his naked skin. Better still, were it skin to skin.

Such thoughts reminded him of how long it had been since he had enjoyed intimate pleasure.

Since intimate pleasure was never far from a Familiar’s mind, he wondered why he was not bothered more by his forced abstinence. For even amongst the Familiars, whose sexual appetites were legendary, Rejar was often remarked upon.

The truth was, Rejar simply loved women.

All women.

He loved the way they looked; the way they smelled; the softness of their skin; the gentleness of their touch.

Women responded to Rejar on an instinctual level. He was never unkind. He was unfailingly mindful of their pleasure. He was virtually unstoppable sexually, having the ability of ultra energy levels. Not to mention incredibly innovative and commandingly sensual.

Women adored him. And he adored them.

Rejar was often told by his lovers that he did not make love like other men.

If such were true, he could not say.

He knew only that for him, each time he engaged in the act, it was more than an exploration of the senses; it was an immersion of his being. Rejar reveled in textures and tastes; color of hair, skintones, shape of features, expressions of personality…in short, women.

He enjoyed them all equally well, knowing without a doubt that no one woman could ever be enough for him.

To Rejar ta’al Krue, variety was not only the spice of life, it was the sugar as well.

So, why was he not at all concerned by his abstinence?

He unfurled himself from the windowseat with the unconsciously lithe grace of the Familiar, padding barefoot to the bed. Where did this restlessness come from? This dissatisfaction?

Sinking to his knees on the carpet bedside the bed, he lightly rested his elbows on the mattress and curiously gazed down upon Lilac’s face.

Her generous mouth was slightly parted as she slept.

Rejar briefly thought of dipping his tongue between those enticingly parted lips. He knew he could not do that, of course, so for the time being he settled with just looking at her.

Long gold-tipped lashes covered those forest green eyes of hers…

His little bit of Aviara.

A wave of homesickness washed over him. It was so acute, he could not stop himself from brushing his mouth lightly across her eyelids. No matter how long it took the mystic Yaniff to find him, it comforted him to know he would always have his little bit of Aviara here in Lilac’s eyes.

When he felt her lashes flutter against his lips, he pulled back to watch her come awake.

Those expressive green eyes opened, slowly focusing on him. He held his breath as she gazed upon him for the first time, wanting the moment to last; knowing he could not allow it.

When her eyes widened with the beginnings of cognizance, he immediately sent a mesmerizing thought to her.

{You are dreaming.}

She blinked in confusion. Her mouth parted. “I…”

He sent the thought again. {You are dreaming, Lilac.}

He waited to see if she took his suggestion.

There were some who were immune to this suggestive technique. His father and brother Lorgin, for instance, were impervious to it. But then, most Charl were. You could not tamper with a Charl’s mind.

Rejar could not help but smile when he suddenly recalled the first time he had tried it on his own father when he was a young boy. He wanted to see if he could “suggest” his father into forgetting some mischief he had caused. It had backfired on him with predictable results. His father had been doubly furious with him, incensed that he had the audacity to attempt it on him.

He hoped Lilac would be susceptible. He did not think she would respond favorably to the knowledge of his presence in her bed.

Indeed, these past weeks she had often spoken aloud of her utter distaste for the males of her society.

However, she had yet to meet him.

“I—I think I’m dreaming.” She raised a slender hand to her forehead.

Good. It was working. She was susceptible to him.

Although he had never used this technique in quite this way before, Rejar knew that the greater the physical contact between them, the more she would remember her dream experience. Once he physically entered her, he would completely lose this type of suggestive ability over her.

But then there were many intriguing things you could suggest to someone with their full knowledge.

A slow, feral smile inched across his handsome face. She would not have distaste for this male.

Lilac spoke to him, interrupting his pleasant analysis.

“Do I know you, sir?”

“Oh, yes.” He rakishly winked at her.

“I do?” She was perplexed. “I think I would have remembered you had we met. You’re quite beauti—Why don’t you have any clothes on?!”

And would not his father be most displeased with him for this little bit of mischief. Rejar chuckled. What could he do? He was a Familiar.

“Do you think I need them?” he asked her not-so-innocently.

She seemed to mull this over for a moment. “I don’t suppose so, since this is only a dream; but still, it seems most improper.”

Leaning over her, he whispered, “I like being most improper.”

Lilac amused him by whispering back, “I think I might like it too.”

While under the trance, a subject reacted freely to situations in which normally they might be inclined to be slightly more reserved. However, the true nature of the person always remained. Yes, he chuckled, she was much like him.

Rejar grinned, revealing two roguish dimples. “I have never doubted this.” Standing, he lifted the covers to climb inside.

Lilac gaped at him with eyes suddenly gone huge.

“What is it, Lilac?”

“You—you—you don’t—you—”

Rejar had no way of knowing Lilac had never seen a naked man before. Even in her dreams. He wondered what was upsetting her so—until his gaze followed the finger she pointed directly at the source of her discomfiture.

He looked down, then back at her, confused. “This?”

“That,” she confirmed.

“Why?”

“It’s…so big!”

Even though it was one he had heard often in the past, Rejar, like any Familiar, preened at the compliment. “If you say.”

“Huge, really,” Lilac continued, viewing the thing with a mixture of fascination and repulsed awe.

Rejar was starting to feel uncomfortable. Why was the woman staring at him so intently? Perhaps he was endowed, but she was peering at him as if he were oddly made in some way. Were the men here so very different? If so, it boded well for him.

Indeed, he would become very popular.

“Actually, enormous!” she went on, her fingers splaying across her lips in wonder. “I can’t believe the size of—”

He was getting annoyed. After all, it was his manhood! “That is enough!” He bellowed. “It is not seemly to inspect a man so intently!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Lilac drooped down into the covers.

“Fine.”

Rejar settled in beside her, taking her in his arms. Lilac braced her palms against his broad, golden-skinned chest, looking earnestly up at him.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Why not what?”

“Why is it not ‘seemly’ to examine a man’s…part?”

The corners of his lips curled up. “You may examine my ‘part’ all you like, sweet Lilac, just do not discuss it as if it did not have feelings.”

She did not seem to understand his humor.

“You may touch it, if such is your desire,” he clarified. She did not respond the way he had hoped. In fact, for some reason, Lilac seemed quite horrified with the prospect.

“Touch it yourself!”

Rejar stared at her incredulously. What was wrong with the woman? Truly, her reactions were most strange.

Deciding to ignore her outburst, he ran his hands down her back, stopping to cup her rounded buttocks in his palms. They were a nice handful. Soon he would remove this garment she was wearing so he could—

“What on Earth are you doing! Stop that at once!”

Rejar froze. A woman’s objection was so foreign to him that he stared at her gape-mouthed. “You do not like the touching of my hands?”

“I most certainly do not! Let me go!” She tried to break his hold on her. Failing that, she glared up at him. The intensity of the glare was somewhat spoiled by the hank of hair that fell over her eyes.

Hmm. He must think on this puzzle a moment.

It was a cosmic truth that woman were not predictable. It was one of the traits which made them so fascinating to the male Familiar—but this reaction of hers didn’t make any sense; she was a sensual woman. Unless…

“You have been with unschooled men in the past, have you not? Men who do not know how to please you?”

“What—Whatever do you mean?”

Yes, that was it then. It would explain her present attitudes regarding men. Rejar sighed dramatically. How often the male Familiar are called upon to undo the rumblings of other men!

His white teeth flashed in a sudden grin. It was a terrible job, but someone in the universe had to do it.

He patiently removed the strand of hair from her face by smoothing it back behind her brow. {I will show you what I mean.}

Lilac gasped. “How did you do that? You spoke without speaking!”

{I can send my thoughts to you.}

“Simply amazing! Why, I never realized how imaginative I am! Now I’ll send something to you.”

{You cannot.}

“Why not? It is my dream, isn’t it? I shall do as I please! What did I just say?”

{I do not know. I have explained to you—you cannot do this.}

“I don’t see why not.” She stuck her chin stubbornly in the air. If Rejar wasn’t so exasperated, he might be tempted to laugh.

“I can send my thoughts to you—or anyone for that matter,” he said aloud, “but you cannot send your thoughts to me because you are not…like me.”

“I see…it’s the rules of the dream world, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.” He smiled kindly at her.

Lilac yawned. “I’m rather tired; I think I should be waking up now.”

“Do you not mean go to sleep now?”

“But I’m already asleep, so if I’m tired, I suppose I need to wake up.” She looked confused herself. “How could that be?”

He needed to distract this line of thinking immediately as conscious realization could sometimes cause a subject to break trance.

{Did I not promise to show you what pleases you?}

The diversion worked; she gave him a surprised look. “How do you know what pleases me?”

{I know. Watch…} His capable fingers immediately began massaging up and down her back, lightly kneading the muscles into relaxed compliancy.

When he reached her shoulders, he completely enfolded her in his embrace as they lay on their sides. Still gently moving his broad palms in circular motions against her back, he occasionally used just the heel of his hands to augment the soothing kneading action.

“Mmm—that does feel nice.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the exquisite sensation of a man giving her a massage.

His hands moved lower to the arch of her waist.

“That feels very good.”

Then to the base of her spine.

“Oh yes, that—”

And lower still…

Lilac’s eyes snapped open. “You shouldn’t be touching me there.”

He looked at her through half-lowered lids. {Why not?}

Lilac frowned. “Because it’s just not done! Not even in dreams.” Reaching down, she stopped his roving hand.

He gave her a patent look. “And how do men make love here, then?”

Lilac blushed. “I…What a question! You must never ask a lady that—it is not—not,” she used his own word back at him, “seemly.”

Rejar exhaled in frustration. This was proving more difficult than he had first thought. It was going to be a challenging hunt; he could sense that already. True to nature, he relished the prospect of an interesting chase.

In any case, it was enough for now.

It would not be wise to test the limits of her trance state. He would continue the sport next eve.

Indeed, the Familiars were noted for their perseverance.

{Sleep, Lilac…} He cupped her head close to his chest, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Something is odd here,” she mumbled against him, then promptly fell into a deep slumber.

“Yes, definitely,” Rejar whispered agreeably.

He brushed his lips across her clean-smelling hair.

The next morning Lilac awoke with a vague sense of some pleasant dream she had experienced. She stretched sinuously under the covers before reaching for her morning tray.

Something licked her ankle.

“Eee!” Lilac frowned down at the huge lump lurking under the covers. “Rejar, come out of there!”

The lump moved sluggishly towards the edge of the counterpane. Two large paws and a nose peeked out from under the blanket.

“You seem tired this morning. Come to think of it, you weren’t anywhere to be seen last evening. I suppose you were out tomcatting all night.” A tail swished under the blanket. “Shame on you. Serves you right; you’ll get no sympathy from me.”

The paws and nose disappeared beneath the blanket again.

“Don’t sulk. You know very well you’re guilty. I can just imagine what you’ve been up to all night.”

Lilac felt a paw playfully swat the lace edging on the hem of her nightgown.

She smiled. “Oh, all right; you’re forgiven. I suppose boys will be boys even if they are cats.”

Said cat began to purr.

“Come on out and I’ll give you some of my cream.”

Now there was an enticement. Rejar scooted from beneath the blanket.

Lilac was pouring some liquid into a saucer for him. Oh. That cream. He sighed.

Halfheartedly, he began lapping up the thick liquid, thinking it would probably be some time before he could sneak into the room where the food was prepared to help himself. The tidbits he was getting were not enough to sustain him.

And some of them were not to his liking at all.

One day the cook had actually thrown him some kind of water creature’s head, beaming at him as if he should be grateful for the disgusting thing! Usually he had to gather his food in the middle of the night, while the rest of the household was sleeping.

Once again, the cream splashed all over his face. He really was not very good at this.

“Just look at you.” Lilac shook her head. “You really are a messy puss, Rejar.” He stuck his face close to her so she could wipe his whiskers for him.

“There.” Lilac settled back against the pillows, drinking her tea. “Now I have to think of some way to avoid that boring soiree this Friday. Auntie Whumples seems so adamant. Perhaps I could say…no, that wouldn’t work. What if…” Lilac’s voice trailed off as possible excuses went through her mind, none of them very promising. She spent the rest of the day trying to think of something, anything her aunt would accept.

Several of the excuses that seemed promising she later attempted on her aunt, only to have her hopes immediately dashed when Auntie speared her with her infamous no-nonsense glare that traveled haughtily down her long nose, gaining momentum before it launched itself at the unfortunate victim. Her.

By the time she went to bed that evening, Lilac knew that anything short of getting struck by lightning was not going to prevent her from attending that wretched soiree.

“Oh, it’s you again.”

Lilac opened her eyes to another dream.

The same beautiful man she had seen the previous night in her sleep was back. Only this time he was lying across the top of the covers on his stomach.

He was still very much unclothed.

“Mmmm…” He rubbed the underside of his chin back and forth against the top of her thigh while staring impishly up at her.

“I don’t know why I’m dreaming about you again.”

{Do you not?} Rejar rested his head on his folded arms, letting his index finger lazily trace the outline of demarcation between her night rail and the sheet.

Annoyed, Lilac slapped his hand away. “No, and I wish you would stop touching me in such a forthright manner.”

“Ah, you prefer a more subtle approach.” His teasing eyes sparkled. “Now, how might I be more subtle, I wonder?” He rubbed his chin as if he were actually thinking it over.

Lilac narrowed her eyes. “I think you’re playing with me in some way.”

“In every way.” A rakish dimple popped into his cheek.

He smoothly rolled over onto his back, lacing his hands behind his head before looking lazily over at her. His eyes were dancing with amusement.

For some reason, Lilac got the absurd impression of a cat swishing his tail.

She shook an admonishing finger at him. “You must be nice or I won’t allow you in my dreams anymore.”

“Very well.” He turned onto his side. Propping up his head by leaning on a bent arm, he reached for her with the other.

“What are you doing?” she squealed.

“What you have asked—I am being nice.”

“You don’t look like you’re being nice; you look like you’re being quite mischievous.”

He brought her small hand to his face. “Really. How do I look mischievous?”

“Your eyes sparkle in a certain way and you have these curved lines by your mouth, dimples really, which deepen and—Stop that!” He was running his tongue in a long, slow lick up the center of her hand, straight up to the tip of her middle finger.

“You do not like it?” He spoke around her finger, which was now gently being suckled into his warm mouth. When those thick, ink-black lashes of his lifted to meet her focus straight on, Lilac blushed to the roots of her hair.

“I—I didn’t say that.”

“Then why should I stop?” White teeth held her finger now and the rogue was laughing!

Before Lilac could think of an appropriate response, he was once more licking the inside of her hand, using his silken tongue to probe in a most intriguing fashion between her fingers where they joined at the base.

Her breath caught with an odd hitch in her throat.

“You do not want me to stop, do you?” His low, resonant voice was partially muffled as he continued to pay the most indecent attention to her fingers.

Who would ever guess fingers could be so—so inspiring?

“I don’t suppose”—Lilac cleared her throat—“it would be—I mean, you might continue for just a few more moments; seeing as this is a dream and such.”

Rejar chuckled deep in his throat, his talented lips moving to her wrist. He lightly scraped her pulse point before pulling up the sleeve of her garment with his teeth.

Lilac gulped for air as his moist tongue slid across the crease on the inside of her elbow.

“You know I don’t know how I thought you up, but I think you’re exceptionally handsome,” she whispered to him in the darkened room.

The corners of Rejar’s lips twitched. As a rule Familiars never paid much attention to such compliments. For some reason, women always found them thus. Amused, he stopped to look down at her lying beneath him. “Do you?”

“Oh, yes! Although, I can’t see you as clearly as I would like. What color are your eyes?”

Rejar began nuzzling at the collar of her gown. “Blue…” His mouth trailed like hot silk across her collarbone. “…golden.”

Lilac tried not to moan aloud at the feel of the sensual male mouth gliding over her with such devastating effect.

“Which is it?” she gasped.

“What?” His heated breath caressed her skin as he continued his sensual foray.

“Blue or golden?”

Rejar stopped.

It was not an easy thing to do; her skin tasted like the sweetest cream to his hungry lips. However, this was dangerous territory. If he told her the truth, it might jog her awareness of…something, the wrongness of his dual-colored eyes to her or, more probably, a connection to her new cat.

No, he could not chance it.

He reined his senses inward, bringing his breathing and body temperature back to normal. The process made him slightly irritable.

His sensual nature needed a release and he had gone far too long without it. He intended to remedy that as soon as possible. The long hunt would have to be momentarily put aside in lieu of a fast conquest.

Tomorrow evening his unaware “sponsor” into society was having a private gathering of his select friends at his country home. Rejar intended to be there.

His entrance into this society would serve a triple purpose: he would be establishing a new life for himself, he would be meeting soon “face-to-face” with Lilac; and he would find somebody on the morrow who could relieve his present condition.

To hope she would have forest green eyes, Rejar acknowledged, would be overly optimistic.

He gazed longingly into those Aviaran eyes and bid them, {Sleep.}