Third Wave: Bones of Eden

by Zaide Bishop

  “Time?” Tare suggested, looking after Fox with a frown. “He’s not been hanging around with the Varekai. Then again, Whiskey’s not exactly the best of company. She’s always eating, sleeping or yelling at someone. Sometimes I swear she does all three at once.”

  “He is taking her food, though,” Xícara said, certain Fox would never abandon his deal with the red-haired Varekai. Half his kills, for half the litter of young.

  Tare shrugged. “I guess. I haven’t really noticed. Sugar, I thought you needed to know, Whiskey isn’t the only fat one.”

  A sudden, rigid stillness settled over Sugar, and he met Tare’s gaze. “Charlie?”

  “She’s really starting to show. I thought, well, you’d want to know. You’re the only Elikai who ever—” he made a vague hand gesture, “—with her.”

  The color was draining out of Sugar’s face, and Xícara caught his elbow, steering him to a large rock before his knees gave.

  “She never told me...”

  Tare shrugged. “She didn’t tell anyone for ages. Said she wasn’t sure. They’re starting to kick now. I’ve felt them myself.”

  Sugar was staring at the ground, expression blank with shock. Xícara sat down next to him, putting an arm across his shoulders. “She probably knew,” he said softly. “Before she made us leave. She had to choose between you and them.”

  Sugar’s eyes flashed angrily. “And that makes it okay? I should forgive her?”

  Xícara shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re your babies. Who would you choose?”

  He put his head in his hands, shoulders trembling. Xícara sighed and patted his shoulder. Sugar had always been willing to shoulder every burden, but his spine was starting to crack. Sometimes he got too caught up in the details. All Xícara wanted was for everyone to get along so he could see Tango again.

  “Maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell you this,” Tare said, looking uncertain.

  “It’s okay,” Xícara assured him. “It was rough, but we all survived the summer. Two of the Varekai are pregnant...unless you have some good news about India too?”

  Tare frowned and shook his head.

  “Ah, well. Soon, right?” Xícara continued. “And Fox will forgive soon, too. And the babies will be born healthy. The plants will grow back, the animals will breed. In a few months, everything will be better than it has been since Eden.”

  “You can’t know that,” Sugar said, face still buried in his hands.

  “Of course I do,” Xícara said, squeezing his shoulder. “We know the islands will recover. They’ve done so before. And all the forgiving stuff, well, it all depends on you, Charlie and Fox making the right choices. And I have faith you will. Why choose to be miserable when we can all be happy and safe together?”

  Sugar glanced at him. “You make the impossible seem very simple.”

  “It only looks impossible from where you’re sitting. When you’re ready, just choose to be happy.” He got to his feet, going back to the hut he had been building. Tare trailed after him, leaving Sugar to his thoughts.

  “When did you get so smart?” Tare asked.

  Xícara shrugged. “Maybe I’m not. But he needed a little nudge in the right direction. I want the tribes to be together again.”

  Tare snorted. “You just want to be with Tango.”

  His cheeks went hot. Were his thoughts so obvious? “She needs someone to look out for her. I want to protect her, that’s all.”

  Tare chuckled. “After Whiskey, she’s one of the best hunters in the tribe. She moves as silently as the owl flies. If anyone needs protecting, it’s Bravo. She’d crawl into a crocodile mouth just to see what happened.”

  Xícara grinned. “Bravo will have to find some other protector. I’m spoken for.”

  “Suit yourself. You should come back with me. Say hello. Charlie’s told everyone to steer clear of the Elikai because she doesn’t want to upset Sugar. You’d be welcome to visit.”

  His heart skipped with a sudden, intense longing, but then he glanced at Sugar, his face still buried in his hands. “I think I’m still needed here a little longer.”

  Chapter Two

  Whiskey made her way carefully down the path to Ram’s Head. Everything was harder for her now; rowing the canoe, navigating the wild island trails, even staying alert seemed more challenging while her ankles were swollen and her back hurt. Her sisters didn’t like her sneaking away alone either, worried she would fall prey to one of the larger predators while she was too slow and fat to defend herself.

  Oddly, she didn’t want to get away from her sisters as much as she used to. Feeling vulnerable made her want to be with them, and the noise and chaos of the camp was no longer as annoying as it used to be. However, Fox would not come to the Varekai camp, and even if he had been willing, they needed their privacy.

  Once, it had been India and Tare meeting at Ram’s Head. The waterfall cascaded over the bulging knot of rock into a clear brackish pool filled with leaves and small fishes. The still water camouflaged stonefish perfectly, which was a shame, because it would have been perfect for swimming.

  Today there was a brightly striped eel snaking its way between the roots, but as Whiskey’s shadow passed over the water, it darted into the creek mouth where the pool opened into the salty inlets.

  Whiskey wouldn’t have even known about the cave behind the falls if she hadn’t followed India here all those months ago. Before the tribes had even realized they were the same species, Tare and India had been lovers, hiding here from the prying eyes of their kin.

  There was no need for them to come here anymore, but they had left furs and the cave was still well suited for the task, so Whiskey had told Fox about it and they had been meeting there since the wet season had ended.

  She slipped into the cave, but it was still empty. The furs were where they had left them, piled on the alcove of soft sand that made a pleasant bed. There was no sign of predators. The first time Whiskey had come here, there had been a leviathan snake skin by the cave entrance, suggesting that perhaps some huge python wintered here, somewhere deeper in the cave that Whiskey had not yet explored. But there had been no sign of it recently. No belly marks in the sand, no reeking piles of snake feces, so she felt reasonably safe, even on her own.

  She stripped off her clothes, laying them on a natural rock shelf, and stepped onto the rock shelf over the pool, letting the waterfall rush over her skin.

  She could sense him watching her without looking up. His gaze prickled up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She kept her back to him, head cocked to one side for any misstep that might give him away. The steady hiss of the cascading water changed as he passed under it, yet she still jumped a little when he put his hands on her shoulders.

  She smiled, still not turning to face him. His hands ran down her arms, familiar in size and shape. She knew every callus now, every scar. Even with the water trickling over her face, the wet-sweat smell of him was familiar.

  His hands trailed down to her hips, then slid across her swollen belly. There they came to rest. She could feel the slight tremble in his fingertips, waiting for any sign of life. Their life, which he had created inside her.

  She turned her head, catching a glimpse of his hair, turned jet black by the water, and his serious gray eyes. He pressed his cheek to hers and his grip around her belly tightened.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

  She grinned. “I wondered why you kept coming back.”

  He snorted as he tugged her gently out of the waterfall. “You know it’s never had anything to do with looks.”

  “You’re the one who called me beautiful.”

  He helped her sit; getting up and down was harder every day. “You know the moment I knew I never wanted to go a day without seeing you? When you killed tha
t megalania. I’ve never seen anything so brave. Or savage. You’re a force of nature. My brothers feared you even more, then, but I was so hard I couldn’t hide it.”

  She pulled him closer, pressing her damp skin against his. It had been sooner for her, the day he had carried her from the den of the monster croc. They were both dehydrated and wounded. They had only been stuck there because she had kidnapped him. Still, he had risked his own life to save her. She had realized he was a better person than she was. He’d forgiven her for so much when she knew she wouldn’t be capable of the same.

  Then, when his brothers were starving, he’d continued to bring her half his kills. He claimed it was for selfish reasons, so that he could claim all the Elikai young, but he’d been too concerned for her. Too obsessive about what she ate and when. It didn’t matter what happened between them, he was determined to care for his offspring.

  His determination and willingness to sacrifice were exactly what Whiskey had been striving for since her mistakes in Eden, before the world began. Fox made it look effortless.

  “Are all the Elikai so aroused by violence?” she teased.

  “Apparently it’s just me, so I guess you chose well.”

  She chuckled. “Lie down so I can savage you, then.”

  He grinned. “Now I’m too much of a challenge sitting? You really are losing your edge.”

  She gave him a gentle shove, and he obligingly flopped onto his back, putting his hands behind his head like he was sleeping on the beach. “I am at your mercy.”

  She kissed his belly and worked her way up to his lips. He instinctively reached up to pull her down against him, but the great swell of her middle was in the way.

  He settled for cupping her swaying breasts, kneading the tender flesh.

  Gingerly, Whiskey swung her bulk over his body, straddling his hips. His erection bumped against her thighs as he sucked her nipples into his mouth.

  She groaned, back arched, letting him move from breast to breast. He gave a squeak of surprise, and she looked down at him. Droplets beaded across his chin.

  “You’re, ah, leaking,” he said, eyes wide.

  She blinked, confused, and he squeezed her breast again, sending a thin squirt of milk across his own neck.

  “The bitches start producing milk a few days before they whelp.”

  “A few days,” he repeated, eyes wide.

  She had no interest in his reverence. Her thighs were growing sticky with her own need, and she fumbled her hand between them, finding his cock and holding it steady while she guided herself down on top of it.

  He groaned as he slid in, sinking deeper and deeper into the core of her. She rocked back into a sitting position, settling her weight on his hips, the full length of him buried inside her.

  “Are you—” he started to ask, eyes closed, head back.

  “Shh,” she scolded. She didn’t need him asking if she was sure. Her muscles were clamped around him, gripping and caressing even while their bodies were motionless, and she could sense his need, every fiber of his body striving to be closer, deeper, more a part of her.

  With her belly in the way, this was one of few positions left to them. She missed being able to kiss him or have his mouth on her breasts while he was inside her, but hopefully it would not be much longer. It seemed like a worthwhile sacrifice, all things considered.

  She rolled her hips, braced with her toes, her hands on his chest to steady herself. His hands came up to cup her breasts again, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She could feel drops of milk rolling down her chest and across his palms. She could smell it too, that heady richness she hadn’t smelled since Eden and the cow.

  It was alien and strange—almost, but not quite, off-putting.

  Fox gasped, his hips thrusting as she rocked against him. She could feel his shaft moving inside her, filling her, caressing her. The peak of each rock sent a jab of pleasure into her pearl that radiated up into her hips, the muscles across her belly straining with need.

  Their eyes locked, and she could see the raw animal in him, teeth bared, single-minded. The strength in his arms, the way the cords in his neck stuck out, the bob of his throat as he swallowed—all served to arouse her more.

  Her climax surprised her, and she gave a harsh cry, desperate and feral. Every pulse stiffened her body; her head arched back, hips shuddering.

  He slowed, almost stopping, and she could see his aching need, feel it still hot and hard inside her. Still he hesitated.

  “What are you waiting for?” she breathed.

  Fox growled, suddenly urgent, and he rolled her to the side, sliding out of her as he repositioned her, lifting one leg up again his chest and thrusting into her again using his knees as leverage as he pounded into her.

  Whiskey cried out, clawing at his thighs as she climaxed again and again, each thrust seeming to drag a new explosion of pleasure out of her. She was helpless, her body arching, the power of him filling her over and over.

  He snarled out his climax, hips straining against her as he slammed every millimeter of his length as deep as it would go. Then he sagged, carefully sliding out of her and crawling up behind her, flopping down with his chest to her back, completely spent.

  His hand rested on her belly, and she could feel the life within herself, woken by all the activity, squirming against his touch. She could feel his heartbeat on her back, the rise and fall of his breath against her spine. There was life all around her, inside her, flowing through her.

  Her almost ethereal moment of bliss was interrupted by a loud growl from her stomach. It was accompanied by the sudden realization that she was hungry again.

  “Are you giving birth to lions?” Fox asked sleepily. She sat up, and he arched an eyebrow at her, eyes still mostly closed.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Wonders never cease.”

  She gave him a lighthearted shove, and he grinned and stretched before propping himself up on his palms.

  “I brought you fish. We could build a fire.”

  Whiskey thought about it and dismissed the idea. Smoke might betray their secret place. Besides, she had a better plan.

  “Come back with me.”

  “You’re so fat you need someone to paddle for you now?”

  “Tch, no. I mean, come back and stay with me. You haven’t been spending much time with your brothers. I know you’re still at odds with Sugar. Come back and live with the Varekai. My sisters will welcome you. Besides, India won’t share Tare, and I’m starting to think he’s barren anyway.”

  Fox’s expression, which had suggested he was warming to the idea, went suddenly cold. “What?”

  “Tare and India will only lie together. If you were in the village—”

  He got to his feet, fists clenched and trembling. “No.”

  Whiskey blinked, surprised. “Fox?”

  “You want to hand me around to all your sisters like a pot of ink you can all share? No.”

  She frowned. Sharing was how the Kai stayed alive. Community was everything. Surely he knew that. “Why are you angry?”

  “I thought we had something!”

  “We do! But we have to think what is best for everyone.” Anything less was selfish. It didn’t matter what you wanted, the needs of the tribe had to come first.

  He grabbed his spear and grass skirt, pulling on the latter with such force he ripped off a handful of dry strands and left them fluttering to the ground.

  “Nothing is sacred with you,” he snapped. “You’d have me cut off my legs if it was ‘best for everyone.’”

  She stared at him, shaking her head slowly in confusion. “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “Let me know,” he said through gritted teeth, “when you work it out.”

  He held his hand over his head, stalk
ing through the curtain of water, leaving behind the basket of fish he had brought her.

  Whiskey sat awhile, expecting him to come back, but when the birdsong started up again, audible even through the rushing of the falls, she realized he was gone.

  She got to her feet, a task that took considerably more time and effort than six months ago, and dressed. She didn’t understand. Surely he could see she cared about him? That she enjoyed his company and wanted to spend more time with him. It wasn’t like she preferred him to have sex with her sisters, but he was a proven breeder. He could give the tribe more children—instead of one litter, he could have a dozen. Wasn’t that better? Didn’t that help everyone?

  She scooped up the fish and waddled back to her canoe, miserable and hungry.

  * * *

  Zebra and Dog were hunting, armored and bathed, but they hadn’t brought their spears and bows—instead they had a few wrapped packets of fish guts, a net and some rope. Tracking their prey would have been much easier if they’d had their dog pack, but over the wet season the Varekai and Elikai had merged their packs into one, and then when food became too scarce, all of the dogs had been driven away.

  It was ironic, really, because it was the dogs they were hunting for.

  “I understand why we need our dogs back,” Dog said. “I don’t understand how you think you’re going to get our dogs away from Whiskey’s dogs. Those bloody monsters have always hated us, and we have no hope of controlling them.”

  “Don’t come out here and wave logic and reason at me,” Zebra said with a grin. “I’m hoping our dogs will recognize their old masters and come running with jubilant glee.”

  “You expect them to remember us but not that we left them to die?”

  “Technically that was Whiskey. Anyway, they’re just dogs. You’re giving them too much credit. Let’s assume anything that eats poop is still lower than us on the cognitive food chain.”