by Ruby Dixon
He says nothing to that, probably because he knows I'm right. Instead, he rubs my shoulders again, working tired muscles in such an effortless, soothing way that I close my eyes, relaxing into his touch. "I saw your pottery," he says softly. "It broke again."
"I know. I'm so disappointed." I feel morose every time I think about my pottery. It's been over a month of lost sleep and sifting clay from water, slapping mud and making slow-burning fires to bake pot after pot, only for them all to turn to garbage at one step or another. There have been so many times I've wanted to walk away from the cave and never look back. After all, I'm doing pottery in secret, so no one can know if I can't figure it out, right?
But every time I feel the urge to give up, I hear my mother's sharp voice in my head. You give up on everything. You'll never amount to anything. You're stupid and willful, just like your awful father. I should be grateful I never got saddled with him. Hearing that bitter voice in my head makes me all the more determined to give it another try. To make one more pot, to try one more fire. "I can't get the temperature right," I complain to A'tam. "The pots do okay for a while, but then they break. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
"Hm." A'tam is quiet, and I know he's thinking. "They cool too quickly. The fire does not stay hot long enough."
"So how do I fix that? Did your mother do anything in particular?"
"I do not remember. I will think on it." A'tam rubs my shoulders again, his hands soothing and comforting. "There is an answer. We just have to find it."
"'We,' huh?" I rest my cheek on my folded hands, smiling as I relax into the massage. "When did my pottery turn into a 'we' project?"
He chuckles. "I enjoy spending the time with you. And I help, do I not? I bring you mud and help sift it to find the clay. I bring you snacks and make sure that you are not cold while you work. I keep you company. These are important things."
I know they are. Without A'tam's support, I probably would have given up weeks ago. But he's so utterly confident that I can figure this out that I want to, just to show him that I can. So I tease him a little more. "I stand corrected."
A'tam's big hands splay across my back. "No. You should not stand at all. You must rest."
I get the giggles at that. He doesn't grasp that it's a figure of speech, and for some reason, it strikes me as adorably cute. I chuckle, and when he joins in, I keep on laughing. It feels good to let out some of the tension after such a long, miserable day.
"Are you laughing at me?" he asks, but he sounds amused, as if my giggle-fit makes him happy.
"Not at all," I snicker, smiling at nothing.
"Naughty," he murmurs. His hand glides down my back again and then to my surprise, he leans over me and nips at my shoulder, teeth grazing my skin.
I suck in a breath, because just like that, all the tension between us has returned, and all of it is sexual.
He waits for me to react, and when I don't, he leans over and nips at my shoulder again. "Soft," he murmurs. "You are so soft, little kaari."
I bite back a moan, because I knew this would turn sexual. I just knew it. And yet…I can't help myself. It feels good to be touched by him. When he strokes his hands up and down my back again, pressing his lips to my skin once more, I don't tell him to leave me alone. I don't ask him to stop. I just sigh and enjoy.
"Beautiful," he tells me. I can feel his big body crouched over mine, his tail brushing against my thigh. His legs are braced on either side of mine, and when he strokes my back again, he lets out a groan. "Are you hurting right now?"
"No," I breathe. I don't open my eyes. I don't want this moment to end. "No, I feel good."
"Then turn over."
It's a sexy command, and one I can totally ignore if I so choose. I can cite my back, complain that it's hurting and leave things as they are. I don't, though. I carefully roll onto my back, and there's no pain. I'm limp and languid from his massage, and I gaze up at him in the firelight. There's such hunger on A'tam's face as he stares down at my half-naked body. He's beautiful in the flickering light. All of the aliens are attractive, but there's a stamp to A'tam's features that just make him unearthly. It's his full, unfair mouth that even now leans in to kiss mine. It's his bright, sparkling eyes that are heated with lust. It's his slightly mischievous personality. It's everything.
And I'm still not over him, I realize, as he kisses me with delicate, teasing licks. I might never be over him. Doesn’t matter that our parts don’t fit. I still want him.
I moan as his tongue slicks along mine in a claiming caress. This time, the kissing is so, so good. He seems determined to take his time, savoring me as he kisses my mouth. He tastes like I remember, all masculine with a hint of salt and smoke. His hands move over my skin as he gives me one devouring kiss after another, and when his hand glides over my nipple, I suck in a breath at how good that feels.
A'tam gives me a look of pure, cocky masculinity, then leans in and nuzzles at my throat. His hips press against mine, reminding me why we broke up before—there's an absolute log in his pants and it makes sex terrible. "My mate," he murmurs against my throat. "My B'shit."
Aaaand reasons number two and three just made their presence known. I grimace, pushing gently at his shoulders. "A'tam, no."
He lifts his head, scanning my face, as if he doesn't quite believe his ears. When he realizes that I'm serious, I brace myself for an argument. For a nasty, ugly fight like we've had in the past. But this time, A'tam only sighs and shakes his head. "I do not understand you."
A'tam gets up, gives me one last frustrated look, and then walks out of the cave.
19
A'TAM
I tell myself that B'shit is hurting. That she is in pain and this is why she has pushed me away yet again. But I know in my heart that this is not truth. B'shit has pushed me away because she has decided she is not my mate. She pushes me away because when I put my mouth on her, it is not a thing that she wants.
I do not understand this. I can see the need in her eyes. I can smell the wet heat of her cunt. She is soft under me, and willing.
So what is it that is wrong?
I pace outside the cave for a time, trying to calm my mind—and my cock. I do not wish to start another fight with B'shit. Not after today. Seeing her in the pit, and the terrifying span of time when O'jek had abandoned her, made me realize that I am tired of fighting with her. I want her to be my mate. I need her in my life, in my furs. I need to hear her laughter, and to talk with her about pots and clay and even just fishing. I like hearing her speak. I like her clever tongue.
She thinks I want nothing from her but simple rutting. I do wish to mate with her. This is true. I want to see her belly filled with my kit. I want to resonate to her. It is more than that, though. I want her to know she is mine. To realize that we are a pair. That we are one spirit in two bodies and we are no longer alone.
Sometimes I worry B'shit feels too alone. I want to take that away from her. I want everything she has to offer. I think of U'dron. My clan-brother has recently resonated to R'ven, and his happiness is so complete that it fills me with envy. Soft sounds of pleasure come from his hut, morning and night. They leave their furs with a smile and tousled manes. They whisper secrets to one another. He watches her, even when he should be working, and she does the same. At night, R'ven sits in his lap by the fire, and they look…like they have found peace in one another.
I want that with B'shit, so badly that it makes me ache. With every day that passes, I grow more frustrated with the situation.
Something must change. Something must give, because I do not know how much more I can take.
I return to the hut some time later to see B'shit asleep by the fire. Her eyes look red and swollen, and as she sleeps, her breath hitches, as if she has cried herself into her dreams. This makes me ache all the more, and I sit across from her and just watch her through the night.
There must be a way to fix this. I must speak to someone, I decide. Someone that will have answers. But
…who? Not I'rec, who thinks I should focus on another female because he no longer approves of B'shit. Not O'jek…because I am angry he left her behind. D'see already knows my problems…I need advice from a male.
Perhaps R'hosh or V'za. R'hosh has three kits with his mate, who is far more prickly than B'shit. And V'za is older, and has seen many turns of the seasons. If anyone will have advice, perhaps those two. It is a good plan, I decide. I will return to camp and speak with the males and see how they won a female that did not wish to be won.
20
A’TAM
R'hosh stares at me as I ask my question. Then, he laughs at me.
I scowl. I do not appreciate his reaction. "It is a serious question."
He laughs again, his scarred face contorted with amusement. "Is it?" He gives a thin smile, shaking his head. "You ask how do you win that female? You do not."
"Why not?"
"Because she does not want it."
"Leezh wanted you when you first met, then?" I ask, sincere.
Now he scowls at me, crossing his arms. "Resonance changes things. Do not pretend your situation is similar to mine." He points a finger in my face. "I am going to speak to Bree-shit later, and if she tells me she wishes for you to leave her alone, then you had best do it. If you do not, you will not be welcome in this tribe. Do you understand? We are all tired of your fighting. It is clear you two were not meant to be mates."
His words sting. "It is not clear to me," I say sullenly. "She encouraged me to kiss her last night. Why would she do that if she does not wish to be my mate?"
R'hosh throws his hands in the air. "If you can understand the female human mind, you are a greater hunter than me. I have been mated to my female for many seasons now and she still confuses me." He shakes his head. "Do not look to me for answers. You will not like what I have to say."
My tail flicking with irritation, I nod and walk away from him. That did not go well. I had hoped that R'hosh would have advice for me, but when we arrived in camp, he acted as if I deliberately dug the pit and flung B'shit in there so I could keep her out overnight. He has told me I should leave B'shit alone, but I cannot. My mind is full of confusion over last night.
She moaned into my mouth…and then told me no. I find this baffling. If she enjoys my touch, why deprive us of pleasure?
I stalk past the healer's tent, where I brought B'shit this morning. All is silent, which I suppose is a good thing. I do not hear cries of pain or frustration. B'shit is not all that injured. My mate made that clear when we left the cave this morning. She is just sore. But that was all she said to me.
B’shit is a difficult female.
Frustrated with my response from R'hosh, I wander through the encampment. The cluster of Strong Arm tents are set up near the edge of the large longhouse, and I can hear people laughing and talking inside it as they work. I have been inside several times, and it is mostly a warm space for the females to work on crafts and chat out of the bitter cold air. I do not spend much time in there myself, as I do not bother with crafts. If I have skins that need to be worked, R'ven takes them for me in exchange for meat. I pause outside the longhouse, but I do not join them. My heart is too troubled.
I decide to hunt for V'za instead. He is a weathered hunter that has seen many seasons. He had a mate who died many turns of the seasons ago, and now pleasure-mates with Shail. Perhaps he will have the answers I seek.
I find their tent and jingle the shell-beaded leather strap on the outside of the dwelling to let them know of my presence. Shail pokes her head out of the tent after a moment, a bright smile of welcome on her face. "A'tam. What are you doing here? Have you eaten?"
"I seek V'za," I tell her. "I need advice."
"Oh boy." She ushers me inside. Z'hren rests on her hip, chewing on one of his fists as he gazes at me. Shail bustles around the inside of the tent, picking up scattered furs and toys around the fire. There is a small area at the back, their furs enclosed for privacy, but overall the tent is cozy and warm. It smells good, too. "Vaza ran off to trade with Hannah. She got some nice roots the other day and so I told him to give her some fresh dvisti meat in trade and I'll make him a stew." She beams at me, juggling the kit in her arms. "He'll be back in a minute, though. Are you hungry? We have some breakfast left over."
"I have not eaten," I admit, fascinated at the sight of Z'hren. I do not often spend much time with the small ones in the tribe. My clan had no very small young and I am not entirely comfortable with them. The Strong Arm kit is a big child, and Shail is small for a human, so it is an odd sight. I hold a finger out, wiggling it at him. "Do I interrupt?"
"Not at all," Shail says, and Z'hren makes a happy noise and holds all four arms out to me. "Oh, can you take him? I'll put on some breakfast and fix you right up." She offers me the kit and I take him, feeling a little panicked as Shail moves away.
The kit burbles and grabs at my vest, putting his mouth on the fur and drooling on me. Erm. I sit on one of the large cushions by the fire pit, careful to hold Z'hren against me. More drool slides down my chest and he makes nonsense sounds. "His mouth is leaking, Shail."
She chuckles, stirring a pouch over the fire. "He's teething. Just don't let him swallow anything and he'll be fine. So you were out all night with Bridget? I heard she got hurt. Is she all right?"
"She is with the healer," I say, pulling a fistful of vest-fur out of Z'hren's sticky grasp. "Her back muscles hurt her and she had trouble walking. Her ankle, too. I am told it is not serious, though."
"Poor thing," Shail says. She hangs a second pouch next to the first and puts on water and a few tea leaves. "She must have been miserable last night. You're a good man staying with her and helping her come back to camp. I can't believe O'jek just left her. That boy was not thinking straight." She shakes her head. "Someone needs to talk to him."
"I am rather angry at him," I confess to Shail. She is all action and confidence, and her warm manner reminds me of my mother in a way that makes my chest ache. For a moment, I feel as if I am a kit again when she hands me a bowl of warm stew and smooths my mane back from my brow. I juggle both the kit and the bowl, and Z'hren grabs a lump of root from my stew, shoving it into his mouth. I lower the bowl to my knee so we can share. Despite the slobber, I like holding him. I pick a chunk of meat out of the stew with my fingers, pop it into my mouth, and when Z'hren makes a sad noise, I grab a bite and offer it to him. "I know O'jek wishes to win the contest, but B'shit is…special."
Shail sits across from me, smiling as I feed her son bits of my stew. She watches us, a motherly look on her face. "And Bridget is special to you, too? Even after everything?"
I hesitate. "I want her to be my mate. Still. But she tells me no and I do not understand why."
"Hoo boy." Shail gives me an awkward smile. "How to say this nicely. I heard that, uh, things were not good. In bed."
That is not the first time I have heard such things, but it makes no sense to me. I mated with B'shit just as I have seen the animals do. I am entirely sure I did it right. And she welcomed my kisses last night, so that is not it. "I think that is wrong. She has shown that she likes my touch. It must be something else."
"Okay, honey," Shail says in a gentle voice. "Maybe it is, then. I know I'm not Vaza, but…you want to talk about it?"
I hesitate. There is something warm and easy in Shail's gaze, though, and I think of my mother again. "Yesterday…I found that O'jek had left her behind and I could not think straight. All I knew was that she was out there, alone, and he was not protecting her. I have never been so angry. I did not care about the contest, or the knife, or even hunting. All I knew was that I had to get to her. I made O'jek take D'see as his partner, and I gave them my kills, and I raced to save B'shit. When I got there, she was angry at me. She said she told O'jek to leave her. But…she was in pain. I could see she was. And yet she argued with me." I shake my head. "I do not understand."
"Maybe Bridget is one of those girls that doesn't like to show weakness," Shai
l offers. "Maybe she doesn't like needing anyone. She was in pain and scared and it probably hurt her feelings that O'jek was quick to abandon her."
I frown. She makes it sound so reasonable. "You have never argued with B'shit," I say. "She makes you doubt yourself."
Shail chuckles. "No, I haven't. I don't try to argue with anyone. I figure there's room enough for all kinds of opinions." She pauses. "But I know you two argue a lot."
"If I say the sand is green, she says it is brown." I shake my head with frustration. "I think she does it just to get under my skin. She likes to make me mad."
"I imagine you make her mad, too. Or maybe this is her way of flirting."
"Flirting? By making me mad?" I am not certain, but Shail might have an odd idea of what flirting is. "Does V'za do this to you?" In my arms, Z'hren grabs another bite of stew and holds it up to me, trying to feed me. I lean down and obediently take it from him, and he giggles happily, grabbing another piece of stew and holding it aloft so I can eat again. "You are supposed to be eating, too," I chide him.
"There's plenty of food," Shail says, amused. "You can both eat. And as for arguing with you…well, haven't you heard the phrase 'pulling pigtails?"
"No." I eat the next bite Z'hren offers. "What is a pigtail?"
"It's a knot of hair, kind of like a braid. A style. I'd show you, but I don't have enough hair." She runs a hand over her shorn head, the black stubble of her mane speckled with gray. "Think of it like a type of braid. And pulling pigtails is when a little boy pulls on the hair of a girl he likes to get her attention. He makes her mad, of course, but he just wants her attention, even if it's bad attention. Maybe this is how Bridget makes sure that you want her. She keeps testing you."
This…makes a strange amount of sense. "You think I should pull on her braids to get her attention?"
"That is absolutely not what I said." She raises a hand, shaking her head. "Let's forget about hair entirely. What I'm saying is that maybe Bridget pushes you and makes you argue because she needs to make sure if you're going to be there for her. Has she been abandoned in the past?"