Page 117 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

“It’s tricky,” I say. “Where we come from wasn’t very nice.

I imagine they like being away from there very much.

But also, they were promised a better life at the place we were being taken to.

For some of them, they might still be sad to lose that life, you know?

It’s not that they don’t like the tribe, it’s that the tribe isn’t what they were expecting to get.

Sometimes it takes a little time to get used to something that’s changed. ”

Jassal nods. “Mama says she was sad for a long time when she came here, even though she had Papa.”

“Your Mama left behind your Aunty Liv. That’s probably what made her sad. I suspect some of our other sisters left people behind, too.”

“Did you leave someone behind?”

I think of my parents, probably moved away from our old home so they could pretend they never had a daughter. They left me behind long before I ever left them.

I think of Rosa and the other Deviants. I might have missed them if they hadn’t also shut me out. As it is, I already mourned their loss.

“Not anyone I miss.”

“Perhaps they need to find their mates, and then they’ll be happy. Do you want a mate?”

“I’d love one,” I say, and it feels like a lie, even though it isn’t.

The truth is, I think it sounds like a good deal.

The raskarrans might not be human, but that’s not difficult to get over.

No human guy was ever good to me, so it’s not like I have any attachment to my own species, and the raskarrans are good looking - their alien features mixing with their more familiar ones in a really appealing way.

And the whole dream-mating thing doesn’t turn me off either.

I know some of the others dislike that they don’t get a choice in the matter, but the raskarrans revere their mates because they believe they’ve been chosen for them by their goddess.

It’s literally against their religion to be bad to their linashas.

All in all, it sounds like a pretty good deal to me.

Except the part where the dreamspace is pretty much being inside each other’s heads. Which means, as much as I might like the idea of a devoted lover, a family, children of my own one day, I can’t ever have it. My mate would take one look inside my head and never want to speak to me again.

Fortunately, I think I’m in the clear now.

Sally told me early on that I was too sick for the dreamspace to form, that I wouldn’t know for sure if I had a mate until I’d recovered sufficiently.

I might still be hindered by a lack of strength in my arm, but I’m not sick anymore. Which means no mate for me.

Thank god.

“Maybe one of the new tribes will be your mate,” Jassal says with a sweet little smile.

“Maybe,” I say, forcing myself to smile through the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Because that’s my next big problem - the influx of unmated alien guys who’ll be arriving once Rachel and Vantos and Sam and Maldek have petitioned them to come join with Gregar’s tribe.

I can’t even hope they refuse, as the whole reason they’re being called to join us is so we’re better protected against the Cliff Top tribe should they come back in force.

What creates more potential issues for me creates security for everyone else.

My only real hope is that none of the new guys are my mate, either.

And maybe there is a chance of that.

Maybe, for once in my life, I’ll get lucky.

I’ve been looking after the kids for maybe a couple of hours when Shemza comes over, sitting on the other end of the furs next to Jassal. He says something to her, then she smiles at me.

“Shemza says that Papa should be home any minute. He says when Papa’s here, would you like to do your exercise?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Jassal relays my answer, and Shemza looks at me, a smile slowly stretching out across his face.

It’s ridiculous that even that smile has me feeling so jittery, my skin alive with need to be touched.

I’ve never even felt attraction to a guy before, the extent of my experience with men being Rosa’s naughty stories.

This thing with Shemza is like all those teenaged crushes I never had hitting me at once, starting when we were on the beach and only intensifying since.

My memories of the beach are hazy, a lot of them burned away by the fever I suffered the night the raskarrans arrived. The night I’m sure I would have died if they hadn’t.

Okay, we all would have died if they hadn’t.

The merka beasts that attacked would have killed everyone.

But if by some stroke of luck we had survived, I know I would have died, anyway.

I was all but unconscious. Grace had already given up trying to feed me anything, and if it hadn’t been for Shemza’s intervention, I probably never would have woken up.

Apparently, there was a brief period after he treated my arm when I was quite lucid and even spoke to people.

I remember none of that. My first clear memory past a couple of days after the crash is when I woke up the morning after the fever broke and looked up to see Shemza’s face.

I should have been afraid. A great big green guy, looming over me like that.

But it wasn’t just that he had kind eyes and a gentle smile.

It was that I recognised him, the night before coming back to me in flashes.

Mostly pain - like my blood had been replaced with acid and was burning me from the inside.

But also a low, rumbling voice. A calm voice, speaking words I couldn’t understand but somehow could at the same time.

I’m with you . I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.

I suppose someone saving your life is a plenty good reason for an infatuation with them. I’m just glad force of wanting can’t bring someone into your dreams.

It’s probably a good thing we’re spending more time together. My crush will run its course when I’m reminded enough times that he doesn’t want me. That he’s only interested in his mate, and that’s not me.

I expect Shemza to go once he has his answer, but he doesn’t, instead saying something to Ahnjas.

Ahnjas burbles nonsense back - at least, I assume the series of noises he makes aren’t attempts at raskarran words.

Shemza answers as if Ahnjas just told him something fascinating, his face animated and it’s adorable.

Also, very not fair. Gorgeous, kind and great with kids? It’s like he’s been sent to torture me.

“What are those boys talking about, huh?” I say to Jassal, turning to her before I start drooling.

“Shemza is asking Ahnjas what he has done today.”

“And let me guess, Ahnjas says ‘build’, ‘build’ and ‘build’.”

Jassal giggles. “I told you he always wants to build things!”

I reach across and brush a lock of her hair back behind her ear.

Her skin is paler than the rest of the raskarrans, a bit of Sally’s colouring coming through in her.

Her hair is finer, too, not as coarse looking as Shemza’s.

All the raskarrans have brown hair in different shades, and Jassal’s is dark like her father’s.

Her features are daintier than her raskarran brothers, and I don’t know how much of that is because she’s female, or because of her mother.

She’s a lovely little thing, beautiful in a way that’s fiercely natural and uncultivated.

Jassal doesn’t need her hair crimped and styled, nor her clothes to follow the latest trends.

She just shines in the way people do when they are valued and loved.

“Thank you for helping me with your brother today.”

She beams at me, a wide, toothy smile that shows her blunted little fangs.

I’ve got similar hair to Sally, similar colouring. If I had a raskarran child, they’d look like Jassal.

The thought surfaces on a fierce surge of want.

I’ve always loved kids, always wanted some of my own.

It was going to be my act of defiance, to love my children the way top tier parents aren’t supposed to - to get down on the floor with them to play, to snuggle up in bed at night with them and read them stories.

Good stories, not the Mercenia sanitised rubbish.

Stories of princesses that saved themselves and princes that didn’t leave everything they know behind in the quest for more wealth and power, but worked hard to make lives better.

It’s a want I have to put in a box now. Raskarrans can only have children with their linasha. My desire for children is at odds with my need to never be one. Better that I pack it up, stuff it deep in the back of my mind. Love everyone else’s kids instead.

Cool Aunt Lorna.

I can live with that.

There’s a call from the edge of the village, and Jassal leaps to her feet with a cry of, ‘Papa!’ I look round to see Jaskry is returning, his catch slung over his shoulders.

He sets the animals down in a pile next to the fire, then goes to one of the big water jugs, rinsing his hands using the tap at the bottom.

He shakes off the water, swiping his hands along his trousers, before turning to Jassal and lifting her up into the air.

He’s one of the more reserved raskarrans, quieter and less chatty than many of the others, but he doesn’t hold back when it comes to affection for his kids.

Shemza helps Ahnjas to his feet, and then he’s off running, too, his unsteady legs carrying him to his father. Jaskry grins, bending down to scoop him up, one child in each arm as he heads over to where I’m sitting. I get to my feet, dust off my clothes, then turn to him with a smile.

“Thank you,” he says, in his stilted way. He’s not as good at speaking our language as Sally is at speaking his, but he gets the basics.

He says something in the raskarran language to his kids, then Jassal turns to me.

“Thank you, Lorna!”

“You’re very welcome,” I say. “And tell your Papa it was no problem. I’m happy to help out any time.”

“Lolo!” Ahnjas says, waving at me as the three of them head back to their hut.

I smile as I wave back, then turn to Shemza, trying to convince myself that the rapid fluttering of my heart is just leftover happiness from looking after Jassal and Ahnjas. Not that the thought of being alone with Shemza in the woods has me feeling warm in places I’ve never felt warm before.

“Okay, then, where are we going for this walk?”