K’THAR

“No,” my mate says as A’tam and O’jek sit atop their practice raft. She sits between them, trying to teach them how to use the raft. “Look. Look.” As brave as any hunter, she snatches a paddle from A’tam’s clawed hands and ignores his irritated hiss. “Look,” she says again, and shows him how she holds the paddle. She digs it into the water, and the little raft spins. She immediately flips the paddle and digs it into the other side, and then the raft straightens out and pushes forward.

O’jek shoots me a look of pure annoyance, but I only grin. My mate knows what she speaks of. If she is not soft-spoken and sweet to them like M’rsl, they can take it up with me. I like that she is bossy to them, as bossy as any clan chief.

But she should be—this plan is hers. It is she that has the vision for where we will go and how we will leave this place, so of course she must lead. The others do not like it so much. They do not trust her like I do, but they are willing to risk their lives in the hopes of mates.

After all, without mates, what do we have to live for? We have been existing for many long turns of the moons, but nothing more. Not since the clans were destroyed in the death of the Great Smoking Mountain.

I watch, paring slices from a withered bit of ground fruit. The island has not been as bountiful as of late, and every bit of food is important. I slice away the bad parts and save the rest for my L’ren. I glance up as O’jek and A’tam try again with their paddles. This time, the small raft lurches forward, and I can hear my L’ren make a happy sound at their progress.

The earth shakes underneath my legs, making the rock I sit upon tremble. I immediately leap to my feet and race forward, tossing aside my knife and the fruit. The little cove that they practice rafting in is protected by thick corals from the large serpents that crawl through the seas, but they will not be protected from the crashing waves that an earthshake brings.

The other males know how precious my female is, though. They haul her off of the raft and carry her to shore. Waves crash and the raft tumbles and flips in the distance, a chilling reminder of how risky our upcoming journey will be. But for now, that does not matter because my L’ren is in my arms, her wet hair plastered to her lovely skin and her bright eyes wide.

“Shake?” she asks. “Again?” She pauses as the rolling ground stops at once, and a sigh of relief escapes her. “No more.”

“No more,” I agree. Her grasp of our language grows better every day. I pull her close and hug her body against mine. She seems less scared with every day that passes, but every time the earth shivers, I grow more and more concerned for her safety. I remember when the skies filled with ash and smoke and the ground tore away. I remember the distant screams.

I remember the deaths.

I never want that to happen again. As I hold my trembling mate in my arms, I vow I will return her to her cold land of plenty that is full of females and game. We will have our kit safely there and spend our days in happiness and without fear of the return of the Great Smoking Mountain.

But we must get there first.

“You are safe?” I ask my mate, cupping her head and pressing a kiss to her brow.

She nods, sighing as she burrows against my chest. I do not think she is scared anymore. I think she simply likes touching. My cock responds to her body pressed against mine, and my thoughts go to the distant trees, where we steal our moments together.

A’tam wades out to the raft, while O’jek just rubs his furry jaw and shakes his head at me. “I do not understand the practice. All we are doing is floating. Surely that is not hard.”

L’ren glances up at me, brows furrowed, a sign that she did not understand O’jek’s words.

“It is necessary,” I remind him. O’jek is impulsive, for all that he is older than many of us. “The open seas will be dangerous. That will not be the time to learn how to steer the raft. That will be the time we will need to be confident in our skills.”

He snorts. “It seems like work to keep idle hands busy if you ask me. It is an endless delay, and there is no point.”

I scowl at him. His words are thoughtless. “You know very well that it is dangerous on the waters. Enough rafts and paddles for all of us to travel safely takes time. Have we not been cutting trees every day? Weaving ropes? Are our hands not blistered from wielding our axes? Do the huts not stink of quickly cured leather? It is all necessary. It is cold where she is taking us. We will need layers to protect our skin. We will need paddles for our large rafts, and rope to tie them together. We will need spears if one of the water serpents attacks us. We will need all these things.”

But O’jek merely crosses his arms over his chest. “What you say may be truth, but I will speak another truth. Would we have waited so long to go if T’chai were healthy? Or does he cost us time while we wait for him to rise from his bed?”

I growl low in my throat at him as L’ren gives me a worried look. Our words go too fast for her to pick up, but she does not need to hear these things. T’chai is not of my clan, but I would not leave him behind, no matter how weak he is. It is true that T’chai does not heal from his wounds and that all are worried about him. His body holds a fever some days, and others he seems better. He tires too quickly to leave his bed for long. His skin has a sickly color to it, and his eyes are mere hollows with a dull blue light in his eyes. It is clear to all that he is living day by day. His khui is not strong enough to combat whatever damage the skyclaw did to his body, though it is trying hard. Even the temptation of a resonance mate cannot bring his khui the strength it needs to help him recover.

He will not survive until the rainy season, that much is obvious.

But because there is not much to do but work and wait, that is what we do. O’jek clearly thinks we delay in the hopes that T’chai will be strong enough to paddle, but it is clear to all that he will not be well enough to do so.

All I say to O’jek is, “The females in the cold place will not be going anywhere, O’jek. We can take a few more days to be ready.”

He bares his fangs at me and storms back to A’tam’s side, displeased with my answer.

L’ren looks up at me with curiosity. “Is okay?”

I have no answer for that, so I shrug. I am not interested in talking about O’jek at the moment. I take her hand and lead her into the jungle.

“Aha. Mating time,” she says, a chuckle in her voice as I guide her forward.

She is not wrong. I flash her a grin as we head toward the trees. My L’ren knows me well. Living with three clans clustered together on the Tall Horn beach makes for short tempers. Add in the language barrier between the sakh males and the two “hoo-man” females, T’chai’s injury, my resonance with L’ren, the endless task list for our upcoming journey, the fussy kit, the lack of food, and the worry over the earthshakes?

Everyone is on edge. Even J’shel, who is even-tempered and easy to get along with, has flicked his tail in anger more than once. Sometimes all you can do is leave camp to get out of each other’s way.

And because I have a mate, it is quite easy to find reasons to carry her into the trees. The beach is full of prying ears and curious males who listen to every sound my L’ren makes, and I do not want them hearing her cries of pleasure.

Those are for my ears alone.

So, like we have done so many times since our first mating, I haul her into my arms. She twines hers around my neck and begins to kiss my throat and jaw, her legs hitching around my hips. I carry her up into the trees, because climbing is slow and tiring for her. I want her strength for other things.

I automatically camouflage my body to match the tree I climb, letting my skin grow dark with shadow to mimic the play of sunlight on the leaves. She moans appreciation and slides a hand down my chest. “Color,” she murmurs. “I like.”

I am a vain enough male that I darken my colors, just a bit more, to please her. It has been a full turn of the moons since L’ren and I mated for the first time, and I have not grown tired of her touch. Our khuis have slowed their crazed song into a more pleasant one. Now, when I see her, my khui does not rumble with intense need, but sings with joy at the sight of her.

Just like my heart.

As I have done every other time we have hidden away in the trees, I take her to the top branches and find a solid spot to anchor my body against the trunk. I brace my feet and keep one arm on an overhead branch, and then I turn my focus on her.

Even though M’rsl chooses to bare her skin like the Tall Horn clan, my L’ren insists on wearing her leafy top as well as the loincloth that I prefer. I do not mind this—it gives me great pleasure to rip them off of her every time we mate. I do so now, grinning when she makes a small sound of protest, even as she nips at my chin with her little teeth.

“K’thar make new skirt, yes?” she demands, even as she grabs the braided waist of my loincloth and rips it from my body.

“Whatever you wish, my mate. You know I am yours to command,” I tell her, and slide a hand between her thighs. I cannot help the groan that escapes me when I find her cunt wet with invitation. Already she hungers for me, and I have not even begun to touch her. I caress her sweet folds until she is moaning and riding my hand, and then I adjust our bodies so my cock can sink into her warmth. A push of my hips, and then I am deep inside her.

There is no better feeling than the clasp of her cunt. She cries out softly against me, rubbing her teats against my chest. She likes the tips of them caressed, but even more than that, she likes the little bump between her folds rubbed while I am inside her. It makes her go wild with need. I lean in and capture her mouth with mine to smother her cries as I do just that. She bucks against me, and then I pound into her, each thrust pushing my spur against my fingers and the nub between her thighs. She is so wet that our joined bodies make the sweetest sounds, and it is not long before I can feel the tension overtake her, feel her cunt clasp my cock tight and squeeze as if she is trying to drain me.

It does not take long for me to come after that, and I empty my seed into her body with a joy that has not grown tiresome despite the many times we have done this.

I think I will never grow tired of her body. No matter if I have her a dozen times a day for the rest of our lives. When I am inside her, everything feels…right. Like this is the place I am meant to be.

Afterward, we are both breathing heavy and her skin is damp with sweat. I caress her cheek as she tucks her body against mine. “More shakes,” she tells me. “No good.”

“I know,” I say softly. The ongoing shakes worry me as well. They do not seem to be slowing down. If anything, they are more plentiful now than ever before. Yesterday there was one that seemed to last for the span of several breaths, longer than ever before. “It will be all right.”

She turns in my arms and gazes up at me. “Leave yes? Tomorrow?”

I am silent, because I do not know if we will be ready tomorrow. T’chai is fevered this morning, his body weak. R’jaal is afraid to push him. We do not know how long it will take for the rafts to cross the great water to the cold place, but if it takes too long, we might lose T’chai.

I fear if we lose him, we will lose M’rsl as well. She suffers at the sight of his pain. She has lost weight and there is a dullness in her eyes that worries all of us.

There are only two females. To lose one before she can even have a kit with her chosen mate seems unthinkable.

“I will talk to R’jaal,” I say eventually.

“Tomorrow,” she repeats, her voice pleading. I know what she is asking. She does not want to stay any longer.

Are we ready to leave? I do not have that answer. I wonder if we will ever be truly, completely ready to abandon our home.