by Ruby Dixon
“Gone? You mean he left the village?” Her voice is incredulous. “After you guys resonated?”
“It seems so.” Even the thought makes my head fill with fury. When I see him again, I am going to lash him with my tongue for hours.
“But…I don’t understand.” She moves to my side, a question in her eyes. “How can they let him go? Isn’t it dangerous?”
“The weather is easing,” I say, bundling my furs tight before lashing a cord around them. “He must have seen the break in the clouds and decided to take a chance.”
“That idiot!” Claire exclaims.
I nod.
She looks down at my hands and then frowns up at me. “What are you doing?”
I bare my teeth in a half-smile, half-feral-snarl. He thinks to run away from me? No chance. “I am going after him.”
10
HEMALO
Next Day
I think of Asha as I stroke my cock, my hand braced on a nearby rock for support.
It is probably not wise to stand in the midst of a valley in the brutal season, my leggings down around my ankles, my cock as stiff as a spear in my hand, but resonance will not allow me to continue walking unless I sate the urge to mate. So I continue, working my hand up and down the length roughly. I close my eyes, imagining her sultry eyes and the throaty way she laughs as I enter her. I imagine her wet heat clenching tight around my length—
—And my seed spurts into the snow, so hot that it hisses and steams as it hits. I kick a bit of new snow over the evidence of my need, noting that it has changed to a thick, milky substance instead of the thin liquid I normally ejaculate. It is yet another sign that resonance has its grip tight on my body.
How in all of the snows did Haeden and his mate manage to avoid mating for nearly a full moon? It has been almost two days and I feel as if all the blood in my body—and all the sensation—has flooded to my cock and lodged there permanently. Everything bothers me—the brush of leather against my skin, the feel of the wind rustling against my tail, the hard surface of the rock under my hand—it all makes my cock stir and respond as if it has a life of its own. It is miserable.
Sometimes I think I should turn back to the vee-lage and speak to Asha, but I cannot. I do not want to torture her. Until she has time to adjust to our newest resonance, I must stay away from her.
I miss her, though. I miss her like I would miss my own tail. Her absence is an ache behind my heart…and a constant ache in my groin. But it is for her that I do this. I do not want her to feel pressured. I do not want her to feel as if I am forcing her into a decision, or that I do not respect the grief she still carries for our little Hashala. So away I go.
I adjust my clothing and then pick up my spear again, using it as a walking stick. Though I do not hunt as much as the others, I am capable of taking care of myself out on the trails. I am not much with my spear, but I am good with snares and traps, and I can catch my own food for a time and work the skins. My chief was not pleased with my decision to leave, but he understood why. He knows as well as I do that Asha is sensitive and her grief for our lost kit has been overwhelming. He worries over her, too. Vektal’s mate, Shorshie, gave me a bag of dried meat for my journey and will deliver the rest of my ‘secret presents’ to Maylak so the healer is not left wanting simply because I am not there to play the game.
The weather is awful, the skies clearing just enough that snow does not pound my face constantly as I walk. It lies thick on the ground, though, at waist height in some areas. It makes walking slow and any travel cold and unpleasant. The nearest hunter cave is a day or so away at the pace I am making, but I am in no hurry. I will set up camp there, work on refilling the nearest cache, and skin for hour after endless hour to waste the time. When I can stand it no longer, then I will return.
Hopefully by then, Asha will realize that our second resonance is a gift and not something to be frightened of. Then she will accept me with open arms and a smile, and we will try again.
I walk onward, trying to turn my thoughts away from Asha. I think of the cold snow caking onto my boots, and the fact that I will have a long, chilly night ahead. I must either build a big fire to keep the breath from turning to ice in my lungs, or keep moving through the night so I do not freeze into an icicle. I should concentrate on that and the deadly cold. Instead, I am thinking about Asha. Does she think about me? About the kit we might make together?
Or are her thoughts more…passionate in nature? I envision her in her furs, her fingers sliding back and forth over her slick, dusky-blue folds. They will be wet with arousal, the scent of her perfuming the air. She will have the tip of her tail in her mouth, unable to resist the additional pleasure that a tiny bite on the end will give her.
I stop and shudder. A groan escapes me, and my cock is already hard and aching once more.
Think of something else, I command myself. Anything.
I think of leather and leatherworking. I think of Asha lying on the skins I am working on, pouting and begging me to put my mouth on her cunt even as she spreads her long legs for me.
That…is not working. I try to think of hunting instead. Animals. Dvisti. Snowcats. Setting snares.
Instead, I think of Asha and the way she lets her tail lash around my arm when I put my mouth on her cunt and lick her.
Curse the weather. I grit my teeth and grab at the waistband of my leggings again, untying the knot so I can pull my cock out and stroke it once more.
Perhaps it is because I am so focused on Asha that I do not hear the footsteps behind me until it is too late. Something hard hits my head, and then I see a flash of dirty white fur before I hit the ground.
CLAIRE
“It’s been four days. Should we go after them?” I toy with the decorative knots on the edge of my new tunic, worried.
Megan slaps at my hands. “Quit fussing. You’re going to ruin that pretty new tunic that Sevvah made for you.”
I stick my tongue out at her, momentarily distracted from my all-consuming worry over Asha. “I wish she was the one giving me all the other gifts.”
“Still?” Georgie asks, glancing over at me. She pulls Pacy’s bone dreidel out of Talie’s hands and gives it back to the little boy.
I’m sitting by the fire early this morning with the others while Stacy makes us a ‘holiday’ breakfast of eggs and not-potato latkes. Feast Day isn’t until the next day—today is Family Day, which means exchanging gifts with family and spending a meal with them. Kinda a quasi-Thanksgiving, sa-khui style. Except they’ve all thrown themselves into the whole gift-giving situation and everyone’s been handing gifts out right and left to anyone and everyone. It’s sweet, and I love that everyone’s into the holiday…
But it’s also making it that much harder to find out who my secret gift-giver is. Ugh.
I suppose I should be thankful that I’m still getting the mystery gifts. Between those and the celebrations (and my affectionate, marvelous mate being around), it’s almost serving to distract me from the fact that Asha and Hemalo have been gone for days. I get up from my stool and head over to the rolled-back awning in the longhouse, glancing out. The weather is super foul today, but of course it is. If it wasn’t, Ereven wouldn’t be sitting by the fireside, letting Farli and Sessah paint swirls all over his forearms like a big blue sa-khui canvas. “I worry about them,” I tell Georgie and Megan. “You think we should send someone after them?”
“Nope,” Georgie says in a confident voice. She grabs Talie before she can steal Pacy’s dreidel again and hands her a new toy—a woven basket with a lid. “They’re fine, I promise.”
“But how do you know?” I move back toward the women, still worried.
“Um, because they lived on this planet for hundreds of years before we got here and the cold doesn’t bother them like it does us? This isn’t their first winter, and it won’t be their last. They know how to take care of themselves. They’re fine.”
“Georgie’s right,” Megan says, rubbing the back of
her little one as it nurses. “You’re stressing out over nothing. Enjoy the day, girl. Isn’t that what today is all about? Relaxing and enjoying ourselves? You’re the only one not relaxing!”
I doubt I’m the only one. But I sigh and sit back down again. “But what if—”
“Nope,” Georgie interjects before I can say more. She’s got her ‘chief’s mate’ voice going now. “Leave it alone, Claire. I promise you, they’re fine. Someone going after them would just make it worse. And do you really want to send someone away chasing those two bickering dorks when there’s hunting to be done? Do you want Ereven or any of the other hunters to miss out on the celebrations only to find Asha and Hemalo bickering—”
“And humping,” Megan adds quickly.
“—in the snow?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m being a worrywart.”
“You are,” Georgie agrees with a smile. “But it’s sweet that you’re concerned. You’re being a good friend to Asha.”
She’s been a good friend to me, too. I wouldn’t have half of the stuff organized if it weren’t for her help, and she knew just how to approach people to make them excited about silly human customs. Even if she doesn’t believe it sometimes, people in this tribe care about her and love her. They want what’s best for her.
Including me.
“Claire?” Warrek asks, moving to my side. He’s got a basket in his hands.
“Oh no,” Megan moans, a horrified laugh escaping her throat. “Another?”
I gasp, getting slowly to my feet. “Warrek, is it you?”
“No,” the quiet hunter says. He has such an awkward look on his face that I feel a stab of pity for him. “I was only told to deliver it. I promise.”
I narrow my eyes at him and then cross my arms over my chest, resting them just over my baby bump. “What if I don’t want it?”
He glances over at the far end of the longhouse and then back to me. “I…uh…”
Oooh. So the gift-giver is still nearby? “They’re here, aren’t they?”
Warrek shakes his head, a panicked look moving over his features. “No. I did not say that.”
“You don’t have to.” I use Megan’s shoulder to brace myself, and maneuver my way through the crowd of people. I head for the entrance, because that’s where Warrek was looking. Sure enough, as I move to the entrance of the longhouse, I see a figure cloaked in furs hurrying away back down the main street of Croatoan village. Hmm. I look around the fire once more, but my mate is here. My friends are here. Who is it?
Ereven looks over at me, curious. I raise a finger at him, indicating I’ll be just a moment, and then head out of the lodge after my mysterious gift-giver. Time to figure out who it is.
I can’t exactly hurry after the person, but there’s only so many places one can hide in our little village. I know where to go, and so I head down the main street, then look for smoke plumes. My gift-giver’s gotten a little careless, and now I’m going to have her. Or him. The figure disappears into a hut at the far end of the village, the only one with a trickle of smoke from the teepee top of the house. I recognize the house, too. I slow down as I approach, not wanting to scare off my furtive friend. As I move toward the house, I see the privacy flap is up, and I enter, ready to confront the person.
It’s exactly who I thought it was. The moment I saw the house, I knew. And the person that looks up when I enter isn’t the least bit surprised to see me.
It’s Bek.
11
ASHA
I am lucky that I have the fire burning in my belly to keep me warm. After days of chasing Hemalo’s tracks, I am tired, cold, and hungry. I am even more annoyed with him for leaving me behind, and hurt that he would do such a thing without even trying to talk to me.
I am also incredibly, irritatingly aroused. The soft fur of my thickest tunic only serves to rub against my sensitive skin and drive home the fact that I have resonated and have no way to relieve myself of this need. When I find Hemalo, I am going to tear his hide up, I decide, for making me trek all over the hills looking for him.
And then I hope he wants to go straight into the furs.
Actually, do I even want that? My heart is still torn. He has abandoned me—twice now—and yet my body craves his. I want the kit our resonance will bring, as much as it terrifies me to think I could lose another. If I must do this—and resonance says I must—I need my mate at my side. I need his quiet strength to lean on. Without it, I am just an endless fire of rage, burning myself and others as I struggle to come to grips with my grief. I need him.
In return, I will be…kinder. I will not lash out at him as much when I hurt, I decide. I will try to be a better mate. It will be a struggle, but all good things are worth more effort. I only hope that Hemalo sees me as something still worth the effort. Perhaps he does not. Perhaps this is why he has abandoned me again.
Even as I think about it, the helpless anger that has burned in my gut for days, ever since I found him gone, stirs forth once more. Why leave without talking? Why not speak to me? Tell me what he feels instead of just leaving? I hate that I must guess. I assume I know what is in his heart—are we not closer than anyone else in the tribe?
And yet…he has left me. So I do not know him at all, and it makes me furious. Does he think I like being angry all the time? Or sad? I want to be normal. I want to be happy. I need his help to regain my grip on happiness. His absence feels all wrong. It has since the moment he left me.
I am stomping now, I realize, as I trudge through the snow. Stomping because thinking about everything makes me feel angry, frustrated, and helpless all at once. My future is in his grip and he will not even talk to me, I grumble to myself as I move through the path forged in the snow. At least his trail is easy to follow. There has been no new snowfall, and the suns have even peeked out from behind the thick cloud cover, letting the gouge Hemalo has carved into the hip-deep snow crust over. I have seen no sign of him yet, but I suspect I am close. The trail grows fresher by the hour.
I pause and inhale the cold air, glancing around. The trail merges with another trail a short distance away, which is puzzling. Did he meet another hunter? But everyone was back at the vee-lage, so that cannot be it. Perhaps he ran across a dvisti and went after it? But the trails are wrong. It is almost as if someone saw Hemalo’s trail and then began to follow him. Strange.
The nearest hunter cave is in the next valley, very close to where I am. Perhaps he went there. I move a little faster, getting out my bone knife, just in case.
A moment later, I see a flash of blue up ahead. It is no more than a dot in the distance, but I recognize the shade of Hemalo’s skin. Aha. Encouraged, I walk faster, my khui beginning a loud, pleasant song at the realization that my mate is close. I try to think of the words to say to him now that I have caught him. Before I left, Claire advised me to be calm, to tell him my thoughts without being accusing. I have had long hours to think of what to say, but everything I planned has disappeared from my mind.
All I can think is ‘you left me.’ You left me.
The angry fire burning in my belly once more, I storm forward, but as I do, I notice that the blue mound in the distance is not moving forward. I grow closer to it with every step. It also does not look as tall as Hemalo, though that is the dusky blue of his skin. Is he…sitting?
The snow moves near him as I approach, and I realize he is not alone a moment before the smell of metlak touches my nostrils. The panic I have been fighting surges inside me, fiercer than any rage. I run forward, screaming, brandishing my knife.
The metlak crouching near him in the snow rises, tall and impossibly thin. It holds a rock in one hand, the surface glossy with frozen blood. A second shape rises—another metlak. It is holding Hemalo’s bag.
Hemalo does not move. He lies on the snow, completely still.
Fear shivers through me, and I bellow louder, surging forward.
He cannot be dead.
He cannot.
I choke
back my grief and slash wildly at the air. “Get away from him!” I stand over my fallen mate, brandishing my knife. I want to check him to see if he is breathing, but I cannot take my eyes off of the two wild creatures. I snag one of the straps on his pack and jerk it toward me, out of the grip of the metlak’s hands.
The awful, smelly creatures shy back a few steps, hissing at me. The smaller one crouches low again, moving awkwardly, and reaches for the bag.
I jerk it out of reach and slash at the other one. Its face is covered in matted fur, and one round eye glares balefully at me as it hoots and hisses a warning. I hiss back and slash at it again. “Leave! He is mine!”
They creep backward a few steps, and then hover, waiting. My fear and rage boils through me, and I storm forward, slashing at the air. “Leave this place! Go!”
When I lunge forward, the bigger one-eyed metlak swipes at me with his claws, and I duck away. They keep eyeing Hemalo’s pack, and it is clear to me they do not want to leave without it…or without Hemalo. The big one claws at me again. I move automatically, jerking my knife downward and connect with flesh and bone and fur. My blade bounces off its arm, and blood sprays into the snow, the foul scent of the metlak growing stronger.
The creature howls in pain, and they both scamper away, abandoning us and the pack.
I gasp for breath, excited and terrified all at once. “Hemalo?” I crouch low by him, scanning the snow even as I touch his neck, looking for a pulse.
It is there, and I sob with relief. Good. Very good. I stroke his cheek and then get back to my feet, cautious. Where there is one metlak, there are always more, and glance around, looking for others. When a few moments pass and no new creatures arrive to attack us, I swing my gaze back to the two attackers. They are far away now, still loping across the snow at full speed. They will not return. Not soon. They are cowardly creatures, but these two were bolder than most.