Page 120 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER SIX

Lorna

I nestle into Shemza’s side the moment he sits down next to me. I probably shouldn’t encourage my libido this way, but I’m freezing. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m tired, not because it’s actually that chilly, but either way, I can’t stop shivering, and Shemza radiates heat.

When he stiffens, going completely still, I realise I may have just crossed a line that raskarrans don’t cross.

They’re very playful with each other, and often quite hands on in their affection, but they also have this strange, respectful distance when it comes to us girls.

They’ll touch our arms or shoulders in greeting, but they rarely do more than that.

Burrowing into Shemza’s warmth might have been a very disrespectful thing to do.

I peel away from him, shooting him a questioning look as I give him a thumbs down gesture.

“Bad?”

Shemza looks startled, then shakes his head, drawing me back to his side and rubbing a hand down my arm.

Instantly, I feel better, his warmth suffusing me.

My teeth stop chattering and my body relaxes, melting against him.

He smells so nice, and his body is all the right kinds of firm.

I think of how it felt when Robert used to put an arm round me and draw me into him, my body almost sinking into his, his figure soft, like putty.

How it was the opposite of everything Shemza is.

A lot of the guys on top tier liked to try to look like buff gods.

Most of them achieved it through cosmetic surgery, rather than many long hours spent in the gym, but the end results were almost indistinguishable.

Robert didn’t have any of that. He wasn’t out of shape - maintaining a level of health and vitality simply because he lived so well.

But age catches up with all of us eventually, and at fifty-seven, Robert was starting to lose his youthful body, everything getting a bit softer, heading a bit further south.

He always stunk of the same horrible aftershave.

Shemza smells of the forest and the healer’s hut - the pungent herby smell mingling with the woodsy scent of the trees.

There’s nothing soft or droopy about him, his chest firm beneath my head as I rest against it.

And there’s nothing about him that makes my skin crawl or turns my stomach, either.

All of Gregar’s tribe brothers are just so wholesome.

It makes me so happy for the other girls. They can have great lives here.

I could have a great life here, too, even if it isn’t quite the shape I want it to be. Even if this is as close to a loving, doting mate that I can ever get.

The storm rages outside, thunder crashing every few minutes, so loud it almost shakes the wooden walls of the hut. I hope Jassal and Ahnjas aren’t frightened. They’re probably not. Probably used to it.

Despite all the noise, I feel almost sleepy.

The walk here has taken more out of me than I realised, I think, fatigue making my eyes grow heavy.

I go to sit up, thinking if I separate myself from Shemza’s warmth, it might wake me up a bit.

I don’t want to fall asleep and drool all over him.

He’d probably be too polite to wake me, and we’d end up stuck here all night.

I move just as Shemza does, bumping my head against his chin. Just a soft bump, not hard enough to jar any teeth or bruise skulls.

“Oops,” I say, giving a soft laugh, glancing upwards to see if I’m safe to move.

But before I can, Shemza raises a hand to my face, brushing his big fingers along my jaw with utmost gentleness.

A shiver goes through me. It always does, whenever he touches me - even when it’s the most medical of medical touches.

This doesn’t feel like that. It doesn’t feel like he’s looking for bruising or checking for tenderness.

His fingers trace round to my mouth, his thumb grazing over my bottom lip.

My lips part, a soft exhale escaping me.

It’s dark in the hut, so dark it’s hard to see his expression.

I don’t know if his pupils are blown wide with lust the way I’m sure mine are, or if he’s running his tongue over those full lips of his, hoping for a kiss.

My mind spins, confusion and desire tangling together.

Raskarrans don’t want anyone other than their mates.

They don’t do casual intimacy. But this touch of his thumb against my lip feels very intimate.

My heart pounds so hard, I’m glad the thunder is drowning it out.

With a bang, the door flies open. Shemza jolts away from me as two figures bundle into the hut. Anghar and Ellie, both of them soaked through. I rush to Ellie’s side, wrapping the furs from my shoulders around her as she shivers.

“What are you two doing here?” she asks, teeth chattering.

“Shemza took me for a walk to help me build my stamina back up.”

“He’s got about as good timing as this idiot, then. He decided today he wanted to show me a hunting ground on the outer limits of the territory. Didn’t notice the storm rolling in until it was too late.”

There’s a hint of embarrassment in her expression, and I can guess what they were doing to cause them to be so distracted.

Behind us, Anghar loads wood into the fire pit at the centre of the hut and starts to light it with some flints from a pouch on his belt.

It doesn’t take long before the fire is going well, warming and lighting the room.

Anghar goes to Ellie, wrapping himself around her, rubbing her arms vigorously to get some heat into her.

Shemza finds his canteen and passes it to her - a little of the healing berry water to bolster her constitution.

She’s not fragile, but Anghar will hate the thought that he caused her any harm.

Even a sniffle would probably devastate him.

Ellie rolls her eyes, but she drinks the water down, before looking up to her mate with a patient, loving expression.

With the fire and two extra bodies in the little hut, it quickly gets cosy.

I don’t miss the furs around my shoulders, but I do miss Shemza’s warmth.

I ache to go back to him, to nestle into his side again.

But I’m glad for the interruption, for the space it’s forced between us.

Outside of his warmth, my head has cleared a little.

I’m not his mate, he wasn’t touching me because I make him feel all squirmy and needy the way he does me.

My lips were probably blue from the cold.

He’s probably got better vision in low light than us humans do.

He could see the blue of my lips and it worried him as a healer.

That’s all. If I’d thrown myself at him, it would just have been embarrassing for both of us.

Anghar and Ellie take the cot, leaving me and Shemza with the chairs. Ellie tells me about the huge ensouka herd they saw at the edge of the tribe’s territory, while the boys discuss something with great seriousness, their heads bent together.

“Probably planning the hunt,” Ellie says. “Anghar tried to talk to me about it, including diagrams with sticks. He forgets that I don’t understand a word he says.”

“Are you starting to understand anything yet?”

Sally says that after a while, the dreamspace merges the minds enough that it doesn’t matter that they’re speaking two completely different languages; they understand each other anyway, just as they do in the dreamspace.

Raskarrans call it a joining of spirits - the souls, or whatever it is that makes us who we are, blending at the edges enough that meaning can transfer.

“Sometimes, I think I catch a word or two,” Ellie says, glancing at her mate. “It’s not consistent, though, which makes me wonder if I’m just imagining it. Sally says it takes weeks. He’ll just have to tell me his hunting plans again tonight when we’re sleeping.”

“I somehow doubt they’ll still be on his mind then.”

Ellie laughs. “Don’t underestimate the hunters’ obsession with ensouka.

They’re big creatures. That one we ate on the beach was a baby.

A full-grown male would feed the village for days, but they’re dangerous.

It’s a real skill to bring one down, and a real bounty.

I think they’ll probably go after the herd in a few days, before it has a chance to move on. ”

“Will you go with them?”

Ellie shakes her head. “They’ll have to work together as a team. I could learn all the skills of the hunt, speak their silent signal language, but I’d still be a liability. I’ll never be as fast or strong as they are. Best to leave the really dangerous hunts to them. Besides…”

Her hand goes to her belly, no longer hollow from hunger, but not yet rounded, no outward sign of anything.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Well, he seems to think so.” She darts a glance at Anghar, her lips twisting with amusement and affection.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel any different yet.

But baby-making is a very different process for raskarrans than regular sex.

We did the baby-making thing, and Anghar seems to think it’s pretty much guaranteed. ”

It’s one thing that Liv hasn’t mentioned, but then her own pregnancy started right around the time we arrived back at the village, and so was rather overshadowed by the Cliff Top attack and Vantos’ injury. I probably shouldn’t ask, but I’m curious.

“It’s a different process?”

“They have what they call a mating node,” Ellie says. “I guess when a baby can be made, it activates, and then it changes what goes on down there. I don’t know. Raskarrans aren’t exactly much for science, and I’m not educated enough about anything to explain it. So, your recovery is progressing?”

I don’t resist the change in conversational direction.

“My arm is still weak, but it’s getting there. I’m just tired all the time. Shemza’s healer’s opinion is I need to get some exercise.”