K’THAR

Neither myself nor R’jaal are interested in the egg any longer. We part from the beach without another word, each of us carrying off our burdens as quickly as we can. He cannot take my female from me—not with my resonance song thrumming in my breast—but I know he feels vulnerable since he has not resonated to his.

I just want to be alone with my female. I want to look at her, explore her, learn about her.

Awaken her. See her look at me.

I want to hear her khui resonate to mine.

That it has not yet is not troubling to me. She is unconscious and in a deep sleep. Once she wakes up, it will draw her to me as mine is drawn to hers. Resonance is never one-sided. All I have to do is wait.

I carry her as quickly—and as carefully—as I can, moving swiftly down the shore and heading toward the distant treeline. When we are out of the open, I set her gently down in the shade of a large fern underneath one of the tallest trees. Here, she will be sheltered from any patrolling skyclaw or wandering kaari. I kneel down beside her and touch my fingers to her chin, tilting her head toward me.

She yet sleeps. Is she sick? My worried gaze flicks over her. She breathes shallowly, but she breathes. Her skin is unnaturally pale and when the fern fronds ripple their shadows over her, she does not change colors to adapt. I do not understand. Even the youngest of kits knows from the day it leaves its mother’s body that it must camouflage to survive. I worry that something deep inside her is broken, that I have found my mate only to lose her.

“No,” I murmur, and take her small hand in my own. “You are mine. Now that I have found you, you will wake up and you will join me. We will make many kits together and work to bring our clan back to greatness.” I press her palm to my mouth, breathing in the scent of her skin. She smells like the salty waters of the sea and something else, something sweet and wholly her. I notice as I press my face against her skin that she does not react to my nearness either.

I also notice…she has an extra finger.

Odd. I examine her other hand and she has one there, too. A birth anomaly? Like our clans with the identifying features? It’s been said that sometimes a member of the Tall Horn clan would be born with four arms, or the furred skin of the Shadowed Cat clan, and the kit would be taken from his family and given to the correct clan. I have never heard of someone being born with extra fingers, however.

Nor have I heard of anyone camouflaging to such a strange color and staying there.

Again, I wonder if she is ill. I touch her face gently, caressing her cheek and brow. I press my ear to her chest, but I can hear nothing through the strange things she has covered her body with. Perhaps these are the problem? Maybe they are why her camouflage does not seem to be working.

I need to take them off of her. Then I can better gauge what is ailing her.

I run my hands along her arms, looking for a way to pull these strange skins off of her. They smell like hide, and I worry they are connected to her somehow and that removing them will harm her. When I tug at them, though, it does not seem to pain her. I move my hands underneath the hides, searching for an attachment to her skin of some kind, but all I feel is softness underneath.

Just touching her makes my cock ache in a way I have never felt before. It becomes too much to bear and I pull my hands back, closing my eyes and breathing hard as I strive to contain myself.

A resonance mate is the greatest gift. I have been told that over and over again. I thought I would never experience it, not after the death of the Great Smoking Mountain and the decimation of the clans. I thought it was something lost to the past, like family and a life of ease and the great competitions. I thought all hope had been lost with the deaths of so many.

Now, for the first time…I feel hope once more. Perhaps the sakh are not doomed to die with the remnants of our clans. Perhaps there is more to look forward to than merely existing.

I touch her cheek again, already fascinated by her. I have not felt this strongly for anyone or anything since the mountain’s death. I crave touching her. Is this how other resonance mates have felt? Or do I only feel this way because she is the first mateable female I have seen in so many turns of the seasons? I saw the other female at the same time R’jaal did, though, and felt nothing for her.

It is this one that holds that special spark. There is something about her that my body, my khui, instinctively recognize as mine.

Satisfied that these skins are merely decoration, I take one of my knives and cut them off of her limbs, revealing more pinkish-pale skin. Her arms are thin and strangely unmuscled, as if she has never climbed a vine or a cliff in her life. Where did she come from, I wonder, that such things are not needed? Unless she has been sick for a very long time. I squeeze her upper arm again, checking. She is strangely flabby here but the muscles do not feel tight, just soft.

Perhaps whoever she lived with before did not allow her to leave their cave. Perhaps even now, she is escaping them.

But how did she get into the egg? Why is she covered in such strange things?

Why is she pink?

I continue cutting the layers off of her body. There is another strange band of leather across her teats. She cannot be nursing. I would not resonate to a female that is already taken. Another sign of illness? I cut the band off and her teats spring free, full and bouncy.

Shocked, I sit back on my haunches, studying her form.

I…have not seen this before.

My cock, already stiff, grows harder yet. I give it a quick swipe before pushing it back under the leafy loincloth I wear. This is no time to be thinking about mating. My mate is sick, clearly.

Certain parts of her are…swollen.

Is this why she bound them? To reduce the swelling? I touch one hesitantly, squeezing the flesh. It does not feel hot with fever. The tips are a darker shade of pink than the rest of her skin, but they do not feel flushed either.

When I touch her there, though, she moans and the little tips tighten.

I snatch my hand back. Clearly they are tender. I see no other signs of infection, though. No cuts, no bruises, no markings or red angry lines that suggest her flesh is full of sickness. I touch behind her ears, and the nodes there are not swollen, either. If this is an infection, it is a very odd one.

I think of I’chai. Her teats swelled when her kit was born, but never as large as this, or as full. I did not think twice about her body, yet I find I cannot stop staring at the pink tips of this female’s chest and the way her teats jiggle ever so slightly with her breathing.

I do not know what to make of this…or my own reaction. I should be thinking of nothing but her health and instead, I keep thinking of mating. Of what it would feel like to pull her up on her haunches underneath me and sink into her body…

With a hiss, I jerk to my feet and close my eyes, storming away a few steps to gather my thoughts. It is because this is all very new to me. I was nothing but a stripling when the mountain died. I entertained thoughts of flirting with females at the next gathering, perhaps taking one to my furs to learn pleasures…but those days never came.

Now my cock wants to make up for lost time.

I am never going to be able to help her if I cannot concentrate. Perhaps I need to relieve my body so I can focus on my mate entirely.

It is a good idea, I think. I place one hand upon the nearest tree to steady myself and push aside my leafy loincloth, freeing my cock. With the image of her in mind, I begin to stroke myself with precise, slow strokes, imagining her body under mine.

It feels shameful to spend myself at the thought of infected, swollen teats and pink flesh…and yet I have never come so hard in my life, nor has it felt so good. With a low groan, I spill my seed onto the leaves of a nearby fern. My seed is strangely thick and milky, unlike the usual clear spend. Odd.

My cock still aches even after I shudder with my release. Once more, then, and then I will be able to concentrate.

LAUREN

My eyes flutter open to the sight of tall, leafy green trees overhead and shadows dancing over my skin.

Am I…home? In a park?

Am I on drugs? Because I don’t understand how I went from a winter planet to a tropical paradise, but here I am. Leaves rustle in the warm breeze and I can hear the distant sound of the ocean. The surreal feeling continues, but when I press a hand to my forehead, I feel…well, I feel like me. I ache all over and I swear I’m going to have saltwater in my nasal cavity for weeks, but this doesn’t feel like a dream. I feel too sore and smell too sweaty for it to be a dream.

I rub my face and that’s when I notice that I have no sleeves. Or any shirt at all…. I’m topless, my long, fur-lined tunic given to me by Liz is gone, only my leggings and boots remaining. I vaguely remember stripping off my outer furs when Marisol pulled me from the water. Did I take the rest off in my sleep, then? But how did I get here? I squint up at the trees, wondering if my eyes deceive me.

They really do look like trees. Jungle trees.

A groan from nearby makes me glance over. I do, and then I suck in a breath, startled.

There’s a man standing nearby, his back to me. He’s completely naked, his tail flicking back and forth across light blue, very tight buns. He’s got the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen, and the broadest back, with muscles that go on for days. As I watch, his arm pumps in a way that can only mean one thing.

He’s…jerking off.

What the fuck.

Is he why I’m topless? Was I being molested while I slept? Horrified, I search the ground and see my tunic nearby. I snatch it, only to realize that it’s been cut to ribbons. I gasp, my gaze flicking back to the man.

He stiffens, and in that moment, he…disappears.

I blink my eyes repeatedly, not entirely sure of what I’m seeing. It’s like he faded away right before my eyes. I close my eyes and press on the lids, wondering if the seawater I inhaled—or the horrid headache I have—is causing my eyes to play tricks on me. They’ve been getting better day by day, but people just don’t disappear.

I rub them hard and then open them again.

The man is there again, the pale blue color of his skin standing out against the leafy trees that surround us. Okay, my eyes are being weird. That must be it. I give my head a little shake to clear it and it throbs in response. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies. It’s clear that he’s one of the blue people—the sa-khui, though his horns seem to be smaller than everyone else’s, and his color a little lighter. I guess that shouldn’t be surprising, since I’ve seen that the others come in a billion different shades of blue, just like Earth people come in all kinds of shades of white and gold and brown. Still, there’s something about him I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s got a bit of a five o’clock shadow, like his face has a hint of scruff to it. Maybe it’s that his teeth aren’t sharp like the other sa-khui. Or maybe it’s because I caught the freak jerking off while I was sleeping.

I focus on the trees instead. It’s green here, leafy and verdant and completely unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I feel a little betrayed at the sight of it, actually. For the last week or so, the entire tribe’s been filling our head with tales of how cold it is on the ice planet, how bitter the snows are and how it just gets worse, not better. This place? This is paradise. It’s like finding Hawaii in the middle of the Arctic.

And it makes no sense, just like finding a stranger jerking off makes no sense.

I hold the destroyed remnants of my tunic to my chest protectively. “Where am I?”

“Whry’m’yyy,” the man replies, voice thickly accented. He squats down next to me and I can’t help but notice that he’s naked. Really, really naked. Well, no, I take it back. He’s not completely naked—he’s got a knife-belt slung over one shoulder. That’s it. And um, he’s not exactly built like human guys. Wow, this is awkward. I want to stare at everything he’s got dangling between his thighs, but that seems rude. I freeze my gaze upward…

And I realize when he reaches out to touch my face that he’s got a lot of hands.

Like, a lot of them.

It takes me a moment before I realize he has four arms.

“Um.” I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again, wondering if I’m seeing double. When the four arms remain, I glance up at his face, studying it for any other doubles. Wouldn’t he have two noses if I was seeing double? But there’s only one. His broad face is handsome in an alien sort of way, but he’s definitely only got the one nose. “I don’t remember anyone having four arms…” I wonder if it’s even polite to bring it up. I change tactics. “Are you with the rest of the tribe? That’s back in the village?” Vektal and the other blue guys talked about their families back in a stone village on the far side of the mountains.

I’m pretty sure no one mentioned four arms, though.

Or trees.

“B’c veeh l’sshh?” he echoes, garbling my words. His brow furrows as he watches me, as if trying to understand what I’m saying, and I realize he doesn’t speak English.

Okay, this is weird. All the other aliens spoke English. Maybe…maybe there are other alien tribes that I wasn’t aware of? He does look different, now that I think of it. In addition to his slightly lighter color, he seems to be stockier than the others. Where most of the sa-khui were muscular and fit, this guy looks like he’s a poured slab of muscle without an inch of fat. It’s…well, it’s kind of freaking amazing. I’ve never seen a guy so fit as him. His chest is practically twice as broad as a normal man’s and he’s got two sets of arms, one stacked on top of the other. It seems like something that would look highly unusual, but he’s so fluid with his movements and so well built that it seems totally natural, oddly enough.

His face is different, too, I think. He’s got the broad, strong features of the other sa-khui people, but he’s missing the hard, plate-y ridges on his forehead that they had. He’s got horns, but they don’t look like the gigantic, oversized ram horns that the others have. His are kind of wee baby horns that curl back from his brow and arch back, as if holding his wavy black hair back in place.

“Are you one of the tribe?” I ask him. “Do you know Vektal? And Liz?”

“L’sh,” he repeats, frowning at me. He reaches out to touch my jaw, and when I jerk back, he looks upset. “L’sh?”

“Er, no, I’m not Liz.” I sigh, biting my lip. “I’m Lauren, but you can call me Lo.” I guess it’s time to break out the “You Tarzan, Me Jane” routine. I tap my chest. “Lo.”

“Llllll,” he begins, trying to form his mouth around the syllable of my name. It’s like he can’t figure it out. The longer he tries, the more he makes it sound like a gagging noise.

Greaaaat.

“Llll,” he says finally, half-puking my name, and then nods at me as if that was anything close to being correct.

“Not quite,” I say. I try again, tapping my chest. “Let’s go with Lauren, then. Lauren.”

“Llllll’rhn.”

He’s trying, I’ll give him that. It’s like he’s having trouble with vowels. Like he’s not used to moving his jaw like mine. His language must be all consonants or something. Curious, I tap his chest. “Who’re you, buddy?”

He looks pleased that I’ve asked. He rubs his fingers over the spot I’ve touched, which makes me feel all kinds of weird, given that I’m topless at the moment, and then says something that sounds a bit more like a sneeze than a name.

When he doesn’t continue, I realize that it is his name. Oh boy. “Can you repeat that?”

He shakes his head at me and studies my mouth, as if trying to follow my words. One hand reaches up, moving toward my lips, and I feel all flushed and bothered at the thought of him touching me.

I shake my head, and he drops his hand. I hug my destroyed tunic against my chest, studying him warily. I should be freaking out over the fact that I was unconscious and he took my clothes off, but I’m not getting a creepster vibe from him. He’s not even looking at my breasts or trying to touch me inappropriately. It’s like all he really wants right now is to communicate.

Of course, I did catch the guy jerking off.

Then again, I was unconscious. The thought is awful but…if he wanted to hurt me, he could have. “I hope that I’m safe with you, my friend,” I whisper. “Because I am really damn vulnerable right now.”

“Llll,” he says again, then gestures at me. “L’rn.”

Aw. It’s like he wants to spit the word out, or better yet, turn two syllables into one. “Not quite. Lauuuuuu-rennnn,” I say, exaggerating the word and elongating my mouth with each syllable.

“Lll’rn.” He frowns as if to himself, knowing that it’s not right.

I can’t help but smile at that. It’s clear he wants to learn and it’s kind of cute. “Lauuuu,” I begin again, and then pause, waiting for him to try.

“Llll—”

I reach out and squeeze his slightly furry jaw, trying to elongate it into an “O” shape. Of course, the moment I touch him, his eyes get soft and he caresses my hand, and I get a funny little quiver in my belly.

All right, Lo, focus. “Lauuuu,” I repeat, and keep my hand on his jaw.

This time, when he mimics, he lets me pull slightly and tries to form an “O” of his own. “Lllllaaaahhhhhooooooooo,” he drawls, and then looks to me.

“That’s pretty good,” I tell him, smiling.

He grins back at me, and I’m struck at how attractive he is. He’s still an alien, of course, but there’s something so boyishly charming about that happy grin that the little fluttering butterfly in my belly does another flip.

“Llllooo’rhn,” he tries again. Then, “L’ren.”

“I’ll take it,” I declare with a nod. “Now tell me your name again, and please don’t make it sound like a sneeze, or I’m going to call you Gesundheit.” I point at him.

He tries again, slowing his name down an exaggerated amount that’s clearly difficult for him. It sounds like…Kathar, but if I swallow all the syllables and make them one weird sound. I try to mimic him. “K-tharr?”

“K’thar,” he agrees, and this time when I echo him, he seems pleased.

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” I agree. “L’ren and K’thar. I’m pretty sure the other aliens didn’t have names like that, so you must be from a different people. Yes?”

He frowns slightly at me, as if trying to follow my words. After a moment, he points into the trees and lets out a stream of syllables that I can’t follow, much less pronounce.

Right. “I didn’t catch that, but we’ll just move on, okay? Are we back past the mountains? Or on the shore? Did you see the spaceship go down?” I move my hand in the air, trying to make it seem, well, spaceship-like. “Spaceship?”

He squints and then gestures at the trees, spitting forth another round of guttural words I can’t follow.

Well, shit. I hug my tunic remnants to my breasts and contemplate my situation. Someone back in the other tribe—Liz? Vektal? Mardok?—had mentioned getting us a “language dump” of some kind so we could learn sa-khui. We’d been pressed for time and there’d been so many people—all of them speaking English already, even the alien men—that it had been put on a backburner. I wish it hadn’t been, because I can’t talk to my new friend. “Do you know where Vektal is?” I ask him, bringing up the chief’s name. “Vektal?”

He makes a gesture for drinking and gives me a curious look.

“Yep, getting nowhere,” I say, and reward him with another awkward smile. It’s not his fault. He’s doing his best to help out.

He says something else and motions at my boobs, which are covered up by my shredded tunic.

I clutch it tighter to my chest and give him an indignant look. “You’re not taking this from me. I realize this is a clothing optional beach, but I’m not feeling that vibe.” I don’t look down, because I’m going to see a whole lot of alien penis if I do. “In fact, I need a new shirt.”

He says something else and presses a hand to my forehead, worry on his face.

Does he think I’m sick? “If you think I’m so sick, why do you want me to be naked?” I mutter to myself, trying to think of a way to communicate. Maybe we need to go down to the shore and draw figures in the sand. It’s more pebbly black earth here under the trees, which is odd to me, but I don’t know much about alien botany. Or any botany. Maybe Marisol…

Wait.

Where is Marisol?

I jerk to my feet, clutching the tunic to my breasts. Worry makes me stumble forward, and I ignore the squish of my sodden leather boots. My pants are dry, and that makes me wonder how long I was unconscious. I study the pounding waves, but there’s no pod floating in the water. There’s only endless black sand.

Black…sand? It hits me just now. That’s new. It was greenish and pebbled on the other beach.

“Marisol?” I call out. “Are you here?”

The big guy moves to my side, touching my arm. He shakes his head violently, murmuring something. He’s probably telling me to shut up.

Like I care? Where’s my companion? Where’s Marisol? If she’s hiding, she could be in danger. I can’t leave without her, and if this alien thinks it’s just me on the beach, that could be dangerous. I cup a hand to my mouth and yell out her name. “Marisol!”

The big alien hisses something at me and touches a hand to my arm.

I shake him off, even more worried. I push forward, heading for the beach. “Marisol,” I bellow out. “Answer me! I’m here! Where are you? Are you hiding?”

He follows after me, reaching for my hand again. “L’ren, hst.”

I don’t know what “hst” means, but I can guess it’s something along the lines of “shut up.” Except I don’t want to. I jerk away from him and start to run, heading for the beach. “MARI—”

My words die as he grabs me and pins me against him, placing one big hand over my mouth. I scream against his fingers, struggling.

“Hst,” he repeats into my ear. And he carries me away from the beach and back toward the trees.

I fight against him, but with four arms, it’s far too easy for him to hold me captive against him and still keep me muffled. I feel a surge of despair as he carries me into the jungle, moving quickly, and then sets me down near a tree. He presses a hand to my mouth again, gently, and then shakes his head, as if indicating quiet. There’s a look of worry on his face that makes me feel uneasy.

“L’ren.” He gestures at the tree, indicating that I should climb up it.

What? “I’m not climbing a tree! Why would I do that?” I eye the thing. Even if I wanted to, it’s bigger than any tree I’ve ever seen, with a trunk wider than I am tall and no low hanging branches. The closest one is at the top of my reach, and I can’t even close my fingers around it when I stand on my tiptoes.

“L’ren,” he says again, trying to haul me up the tree.

I smack at his hands, releasing the branch. “Stop it! I can’t climb that! It’s too tall!” I gaze upward and the tree continues high above my head, and I’m pretty sure the next set of branches above are even further apart than the first set.

K’thar makes a hopping gesture and then points at the tree again, urgency on his face.

“No, I…” I go silent. In the distance, I hear the crashing of something big and heavy through the leafy undergrowth of the jungle.

Oh shit. My eyes widen.

Something big is coming.

K’thar’s dusky jaw clenches. He grabs me and pulls me after him, half-dragging me to a tree a few feet away. I want to protest, but I’m too afraid to make a sound. The crashing noise is getting closer and my new friend has a rather grim expression on his face. He hauls me to the new tree—a short, squat thing covered in large, jagged leaves that flutter in the wind—and presses me against the trunk of it.

The tree’s far too short to climb, only a few feet taller than me, and so I’m not sure what he wants until he puts a hand over my mouth and then he captures my hands with his, pinning me against the trunk with his big body. He gestures to his own mouth, indicating quiet.

He’s protecting me with his body. Terrified, I nod.

The crashing sound comes closer and I can hear the snorting breath of a loud animal…at the same time that a terrible stink touches my nose. Ugh, it smells like hot roadkill and dead things. I swallow hard, and the look K’thar gives me is one of warning, even as his hand remains pressed to my lips. The message is clear—don’t make a sound. Don’t move. Don’t breathe.

I don’t do any of these things. I’m too scared. My eyes are wide and locked to K’thar’s and I tremble against him. He keeps his hand against my mouth, but his fingers feel less like a press and more of a…caress. His gaze is soft as it meets mine and he doesn’t look worried. Protective, yes. Worried, no.

It’s that protective look in his eyes that makes me feel…flushed all over. It feels intense to gaze into his eyes, our faces so close together that I can feel his breath on me. He’s got the same bright electric-blue eyes that everyone does, the khui blue gaze that speaks of his symbiont.

I feel…strange.

But then the creature thunders right past us, all leathery skin and stink, and I go still underneath K’thar’s shielding body. I can just make out parts of it from over his shoulders, and I see lots of horns, lots of brownish-gray skin, and a long, swishing tail that saws down plant life as it passes back and forth.

And it’s just walking past us.

Maybe this is one of those things where like in the movies, the dinosaurs can’t see people unless they move. I hope.

I look back at K’thar…and I realize that he’s changed colors somehow while I was focused on his eyes or on the creature that’s paused behind us, sniffing the air.

K’thar’s thumb rubs over my lips, ever so softly, reminding me to stay silent. As if I could speak in this moment. I’m too stunned by what I’m seeing. It’s not the horned lizard behind us that has me so surprised but my new friend. The fingers laced with mine have changed to the color of the tree bark, and as I study his arm, I see the rest of him has turned the same color.

We completely blend with the tree, and his larger body hides my non-camouflaged one.

I have so many questions I want to ask. Could the others do this and I just wasn’t aware of it? But they didn’t have the four arms that he does, and K’thar doesn’t speak English. I don’t know that he’s one of the same aliens as the others or if he’s a completely different kind.

All of this is a mystery.

The creature nearby makes a whuffing sound and then lumbers away, but K’thar doesn’t move. I don’t, either. I’m not going anywhere until he gives the okay. I study his coloring instead—he’s somehow managed to perfectly match the tree.

Maybe my eyes aren’t so bad after all. Maybe I saw him shifting colors like a chameleon earlier.

It’s fascinating.

His grip loosens on me and I slide my hands out, but when he continues to cage my body against the tree with his arms, I know it’s still not smart to walk away yet. The creature’s still nearby, even though it’s getting farther and farther away with every step.

That’s fine. I can stay here, because I’m far too interested in what’s before me.

I run my fingers up his arm, wondering if he’s going to stop me. Truth is, I want to see—to feel—if his skin has the same texture that the tree bark does, because he’s matched it so very perfectly. It just feels like skin, though, warm and smooth, and I’m even more fascinated by that. I should probably stop touching him now that the creature is moving on, but I can’t help myself. He shudders, closing his eyes, and it’s like I’m transfixed. I want to keep exploring him, keep touching him. I know he’s a stranger. I just don’t care at the moment.

I slide my fingertips up one bicep and then across his shoulder. He’s pressed so close to me I can feel all of his body against mine, and I can feel the excited rasp of his breathing as it quickens. He likes my touch. I can tell by the way he reacts—and by the way certain parts of his anatomy are stiffening against my stomach. He’s completely naked against me and I’m just now noticing that…and that I’m topless, my tunic forgotten somewhere in our haste to find a tree. My breasts are pressed up against him, and I can feel every breath he takes right down to my pores.

I’ve never been this close to another person, especially not a stranger. There’ve been boyfriends, but it’s never seemed like the right time to take things very far. There was always something else, or I just didn’t like them enough. I’ve never been nearly naked with another guy pressed up against me, and never one the size of this man.

It’s…breathtaking.

I inhale deeply and my nipples graze against his chest. They harden immediately and I feel an intense jolt of longing sweep through me. I’m not the kind of girl to rub against a guy naked in the jungle, but it seems today I am. I can’t help myself. I gasp and press forward, moving against him again just to feel that sensation.

He groans low in his throat. K’thar’s hand goes to my hair and he grabs a handful, tilting my head back and exposing my neck. I whimper, expecting him to kiss me, but all he does is lean in and sniff deep, as if he’s just now aware of my scent for the first time.

I’ve never been sniffed by a guy before. I never realized such a small thing could be so very erotic, but as his nose drags along the cords of my neck and he inhales? If I had panties, they’d be wet. I want him to kiss me. I want to know what it’d be like to be possessed by a guy this big, this primal. I didn’t realize this was my thing at all, but I’m learning quickly that everything’s different on this planet.

And I really, really want him to kiss me.

I reach up and caress his jaw, angling my mouth toward his. It’s a silent request for a kiss if there ever was one, but all he does is rub his face against my neck once more. Maybe his people don’t know how to kiss? But that can’t be right—I’ve seen Liz and her mate, Raahosh, sneaking kisses when they think no one is looking. Maybe he just doesn’t want to kiss me?

That can’t be right, either, though. I can feel just how much he’s turned on. His cock is a bar of heat pressing into my stomach. His hands roam over my shoulders and caress my hair, and I can hear his heavy breathing panting into my ear. He’s as into this as I am. Heck, the guy’s practically purring—

Purring?

I freeze. No way.

K’thar looks up at me, heat in his eyes, his sexy mouth parted as he gazes at me. God, that’s something else. I get all quivery just looking at him. In fact, I’m quivering even harder with every moment that passes…

And then I realize it’s not just him that’s purring. I am, too.

With dread, I realize what this means. When they gave us our cooties, the tribe told us what would happen. The khui picks a mate for you and resonates whenever they’re near. Your body hungers for that other person and you’re incredibly turned on to the point that you can’t think of anything other than having sex with that person, and it continues until someone ends up pregnant. Veronica and the big golden guy back at camp resonated to each other and he looked at her like he wanted to devour her.

Like the way K’thar’s looking at me right now.

I press a hand to the center of his chest. Sure enough, I can feel the thrumming of his cootie in his chest, purring and vibrating its “song.” “Resonance,” I whisper. “This could be a problem.”