Don't Call Me Kitten!

By Arwen Jayne

Zex is a diplomat who specializes in delicate war zone negotiations. He is pulled out of his current assignment to be part of an emergency response team heading out to deal with a new foe. In Moscow Helena is in debt to the Russian Mafia and shadowed by a condor that's not really there. She must forge a life for herself and her sister, trying to make the best of bad lot. Deep in the jungles of South America a small town faces being wiped off the map. I can't tell you much more than that or I'd spoil the story. However, I can say this is book 4 of the Left hand adventures series and includes many of the characters from the previous books. The question is how long will Sakla tolerate the town's existence and the danger its inhabitants pose to his global corporate empire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arwen Jayne
• Release date: Jan 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311307002

Arwen Jayne

My passion is writing paranormal fantasy romance with a metaphysical twist. When I'm not writing I'm either reading other people's romance and erotica novels, gardening or learning about the myriad of things that interest me: meditation, brain change, metaphysics, linguistics, genetics, myths, magic and the odd bit of science and engineering.

Book preview

Don't Call Me Kitten!

(Left Hand Adventures Book 4)

Arwen Jayne

Copyright © 2015 Arwen Jayne

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved

While reference has been made to some actual historical events or persons and some real locations all other names, characters and places are fictional; the product of the author's over imaginative mind. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or places is purely coincidental.

Disclaimer

This book contains sexually explicit scenes and language that may offend. The author is not responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of information contained in this title.

Acknowledgements

This book would not have been possible without the help and encouragement of my friends, my partner and my family. Thanks go to my wonderful editor Jen for volunteering her precious time and giving much needed polish to this work. Any remaining errors in the book are my own. I've tried to go with American spelling except where I've used Australian slang. To Jen, as always, for our discussions on metaphysics, for listening and giving honest feedback on my ideas. To my partner for his never ending patience, encouragement, advice on weaponry and other technologies. And a special thanks to all who read the first three novels and have encouraged me to continue the series.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

Spiritual paths of the Malakim

Other books by the author

Prologue

Russia, fifteen years ago...

Helena felt the sharp knife pressing against her throat and stilled. The front door bell rang again. What do you want me to do father?

Answer the damn door, but if you give me away you’ll be joining that ungrateful whore. Even if they take me away I’ll make sure you and your sister join her. I have connections. I can make sure you suffer. Don’t think for a moment you can betray me and get away with it.

Walking away from her father’s hold as he released her, Helena went out into the corridor and opened the front door. She looked straight into the face a sad eyed junior sergeant from the Politsiya, giving nothing away. If she wanted her and her sister to survive this dreadful night she needed her wits about her and whatever acting skills she could harness. What can I do for you sir?

The sad eyed sergeant took his cap off and placed it under his arm. I need to speak with your father. I’m afraid I have some horrible news.

Helena had no doubt what that news was. Only an hour before, using disposable gloves her father had thrown at her, she’d helped her father drag the body behind the bins in the back alley. Her father had reasoned it would look like a mugging gone horribly wrong. The garbage men would have found the body when they did their weekly scheduled rubbish pick up. Helena schooled her face and kept it rigorously blank. I’ll go and get him for you sir. She returned to the living room she’d just left. It’s the Politisya Tyatya. She was careful to use an affectionate term for papa in case the sergeant overheard them. Make it look like a normal family. Ha! What a joke. Truly she hated her father’s guts and prefered to think of him by the name she gave him in her thoughts, the beast. But now was all about survival so she played the act.

I’ll deal with this Lena. You go see to Anya.

Helena nodded and retreated to the bedroom she shared with her sister. An eighteen and a ten year old sharing a room was a little strained at times but it was all they had. She loved little Anya. She would have to be a mother to her now. Now that the beast had finally gone too far and beaten her mother to death. It was absolute fear that had had her helping to drag her mother’s body, into that lane. Long ago her mother had made a contingency plan for just such an event. She’d known her daughters would have nowhere else to go, no other surviving relatives to turn to, so she’d made a deal with the local Mafia. It was that plan that Helena would put in action now.

Anya sat on the bed, wide eyed and shivering but not from cold. Helena wrapped her in her arms and gave her as much reassurance as she could but she didn’t have a lot of time. Listen Anya. I want you to hide under the bed. Now sweetheart. The child was in shock but nodded and obeyed. Helena passed her a couple of blankets and Anya’s favorite soft toy. Wrap yourself up well. I’m going to open the bedroom window to make it look like you’ve run off, in case he comes for you. Don’t come out from under the bed and don’t make a sound. No matter what you hear don’t come out until I return for you. But if I’m not back by morning go out the window anyway and go and find Eduard Petrov. Tell him what’s happened. Do you understand?

The frightened girl barely whispered. Understand.

Be brave Anya. No matter what we’ll survive.

Lena, where’s my vodka? A grating yell echoed up the corridor.

Ah so the politsiya had gone and now the beast wanted his usual did he? Coming.

Helena went to the kitchen pantry. Using a small step stool to reach to the very top shelf she found what she was looking for and took it down. Keep acting Helena, she reminded herself he mustn’t suspect anything. She hurried down the hall. As she passed the mirror on the hall stand she thought she saw something in the reflection. A bird? A vulture perhaps. Her shock and fear must be playing with her mind but she didn’t have time to see more than a fleeting glance out the corner of her eye. It was always best not to keep the beast waiting.

Her father grabbed her as she returned to the living room, slapping her hard in the face.

What the hell took you so long? He grabbed the bottle from her and proceeded to pour himself a large glass. He looked up, studying her. Now the bitch has karked it on me you’ll have to take her place. Starting tomorrow you’re leaving school. I expect my breakfast promptly at six, the house spotless by the time I get home and a meal served on the table by seven. You’re to look after Anya. Make her lunches, keep her clean and get her to and from school. Can you do that Lena?

Yes father. Not that she didn’t already do most of that anyway. There’d been many a time she’d had to cover for her battered and weary mother. Helena certainly didn’t have any intention of quitting school. As long as she could remember she’d wanted to be a geneticist like her maternal grandfather. Her granddad’s experiments in plant breeding at the Moscow Botanical Gardens had her fascinated long before she even knew what science was. But she wasn’t about to tell the beast any of that.

Good girl. He stroked her long blond hair and took a deep swig straight from the bottle.

Helena schooled herself not to flinch. The creep would hit her if he got even a hint of her revulsion. She wasn’t sure how long it would take for the drug in the vodka to work. She’d have to take whatever the beast dished out, if only to keep him from Anya. She knew better than to fight him outright. She wouldn’t goad him but she wouldn’t give him what he wanted either. She might obey but she would never submit. Never give him the power over her that he craved. It would rile him, as it always did, but a beating was better than the degrading alternative. Her mother had tried to protect her, tried to stand between the beast and her. It had finally cost her her life. She felt her eyes becoming wet. She could have none of that. It would only anger her father. Time to grieve later. Discretely she drove the nail of her index finger into the underside of her thumb and let the pain steady her. The thump on the couch as her father shoved his weighty bum onto it brought her back to the matter at hand. She gave him her best impassive look.

Shit girl, this is a good drop, where’d you find this? He peered at the label with interest.

Always go as close to the truth as you can if you ever need to lie to his face. That was what her mother had taught her. Something special Mum was saving for you.

The beast growled. Don’t you ever mention her again, you hear. I can still put you over my knee and beat you girl. Don’t you forget that.

Ha! As if she’d forget. Forgive me father. I only meant to answer your question.

Hmph! You’re a smart one Lena, I’ll give you that. Maybe I should reward you for that. He stood and made to remove his pants.

Helena’s adrenalin and self-preservation kicked into gear. Fuck! No! Not that! Time for Plan B. Time to see if she could draw him out of the house. So she spat at him. I’m not your whore! Turning she ran down the corridor and out the house, hearing the roar of the beast close behind her. She ran into the backstreets, keeping about one block ahead of him. He wasn’t that fit and the vodka was probably slowing him down. She got enough ahead of him she had time to reach into jean’s pocket and hit the button on the simple hand device the Mafia had given her Mum not six weeks before. The beast had been stressed at work. He hadn’t gotten a promotion he’d wanted. A promotion he thought he deserved. After that the violence at home had escalated. Having recovered her breath she turned her legs again towards a point on the Moskva River, not far from the Northern River Station.

A car came to the curb and a man in a plain grey trench coat got out. At six foot five he made an impression, not unlike a brick wall might make to a speeding car. He had that broad face of someone well fed on vareniki and vodka. His cold blue eyes betrayed no emotion as he walked right up to Helena. We need to draw him out. Come close and cuddle me as if I’m your secret lover.

Helena raised an eyebrow at that but complied. It wouldn’t hurt her any and it might help in getting the one thing she had wished for in her short life.

Get your hands off of my daughter. The beast bellowed as he huffed and puffed to catch up with them.

The man smiled at him with barely concealed disdain. You must have the constitution of an ox old man. The drug should have killed you by now. No matter. He pulled the semi-automatic Russian made Makarov pistol from beneath his trench coat and emptied a round into his target. There’s always Plan B. He then calmly unscrewed the silencer from the weapon and holstered it before returning his attention to Helena, lightly stroking her cheek. Come see me in the morning Kotitsya. We’ll dispose of this one for you.

Helena let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and nodded to the man. She was nobody’s kitten but she’d ignore the pet name he’d just used for her. She wasn’t about to correct the big Mafia man who’d just done her a favor beyond price. Thank you Mr Petrov.

Oh I wouldn’t go thanking me yet, we have much to talk about you and I.

Helena was sure she didn’t like the sound of that but she had to get home to Anya. The accounting would come later.

100,000 years ago...

Small wide-eyed children watched with glee and amazement as Zex deftly manouvered the colourful balls in the air. To the children’s eyes the balls appeared to swirl and dance as if pulled inexorably on invisible strings, making patterns in the dry desert air. They’d never seen anyone juggle before.

Can we have a try mister? the most outgoing of the kids asked.

Sure. He reached into his well-worn bag of goodies for his stash of spare balls. This was what he’d been hoping for, to give some much needed fun and play to these war ravaged kids. Everyone take two balls. Now watch. Throw one in the air like so and as it starts to fall from it’s high point throw the other like this. Count as you do it, one, two, one two. He did a few more cascades to demonstrate. Make sure you learn to do it in both directions, like so. When you’ve mastered that then you add the third ball in like this. Just add one more to your count. One, two, three, one two three. The hardest bit is getting the two ball cascade right, after that there’s no limit to what you can do. He finished off with a few trick shots that had them all oo-ing and ah-ing. Now you try.

The happy horde of children descended on the balls with glee, chaos breaking out. Zex stood back for a moment, content. For just a little bit these kids would forget what they’d gone through. This was without a doubt the best part of coming to these conflict ridden places. Sure his diplomacy and negotiation skills were what won peace deals between warring races and species but it was putting smiles back on the faces of kids, in his time off, that really did it for him. Moment over, he did the rounds helping each child to gain the mastery of the balls. The kids were naturals and never ceased to astonish him with their skills. With his back turned he didn’t see the small delegation coming over the hill.

Is this how you negotiate treaties Zex?

Zex groaned, he knew that authoritative voice. He turned to face its owner and was surprised to see not one but three Malakim standing there. Commander Alexios Thex, to what do I owe the honour.

Cut the formality Zex, Thex’ll do. If you’re finished here we need you.

Zex looked around the kids who continued their play ignoring the strange adults. Apparantly if Zex wasn’t worried by the men they weren’t either. I can’t leave Thex. I haven’t found homes for these orphans yet.

Crystal and Sky here will help to relocate them and look after them in the meantime. They’re my second in command’s sisters. I trust them to do what’s needed

I know who they are. He’d met Arion and Lukos’s sisters before. Mischievous brats but with hearts of gold. The kids would get on well with them while homes were found. Didn’t make leaving the kids any easier though. He’d quickly grown fond of them. Why me Thex?

Thex shrugged. Honestly, haven’t got a clue. The council says you’re the best diplomat we’ve got plus you’re used to working in this dimension. We’re going up against some new menace that’s surfaced down on this plane of existence. If it was left to me I’d just blast them back to wherever shit hole they came from but the council thinks we should try and talk to them first, if we get that chance. That’s where you come in. That and the fact the boy seer Shimon said you had to be on the team.

Zex looked back to the kids who were already deferring to Crystal and Sky for help.

The twin sisters grinned back at him. Crystal used her telepathy to reassure him. It’s alright Zex, we’ve got this covered.

Well I guess... He couldn’t leave some unknown species at the not so tender mercies of the commander, not if there was any hope he could reason with them. He let out a deep sigh and resigned himself to leaving the kids. But first he did the rounds of each of them, giving them hugs, encouraging them with their juggling, saying his farewells and asking them to trust in the twins as they had trusted him.

Zex knocked on the surround of the open doorway where Ma and her son Shimon lived. Can I come in?

A small boy came to the door holding out his child’s hand in greeting. He couldn’t have been more than eight of nine years of age but had soul piercing grey eyes that belonged on someone much older. Come in Zex, Mum’s out at present but you and I need to talk. He gestured to the pile of cushions where he’d just been meditating.

Zex looked at the boy with concern, wondering if the child ever had the fun and carefree life of other children.

Shimon looked at him quizzically. Damn, he hadn’t blocked his thoughts well enough from the child. Either that or the child was a particularly strong mind reader.

Child, adult? Are these two separate species in your mind Zex? Can’t a child be serious? Can’t an adult play? Should an adult be treated with any less care and compassion than a child?

No, but I guess its a matter of degree?

Why? Should a child be less responsible for his actions, as much as he understands them? Can an adult not put her trust in someone wiser to guide her when faced with something outside of her knowledge?

"So its not about age but about awareness and knowledge? Knowing when you know enough to know better and knowing