Page 222 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

EPILOGUE

Sam

I share the shells out with the girls, who all marvel at the pretty colours. Dazzik has carved a hole in one for me and tied it with a band of leather so I can wear it around my neck, and they all admire it.

“Anghar’s definitely going to have to up his game,” Ellie says with a laugh. “Dazzik’s setting the new standard. Dashing rescue and pretty jewellery.”

They have some jewellery of their own - colourful woven bracelets that they’re each wearing. Molly comes over and ties one around my wrist while we’re relaxing after lunch.

“It’s for the raskarrans really,” she says. “This colour means you’re taken, so they shouldn’t pester you for attention too much.”

She laughs as she says it, and she’s grown since I saw her last. Filled out some more, but changed in more subtle ways, too. She’s happier, I think.

Everyone seems happier. Rachel is mated to Vantos, which is a bit of a surprise, but not as much as the baby bump she’s sporting.

And Lorna has mated to Shemza, Carrie to Endzoh and Grace to one of Darran’s tribe - an older guy who clearly dotes on her and Molly.

Sally’s had her baby, an adorable little girl, Marsal, and there’s so much to catch up on.

So many stories to share, even though we’ve all been stuck inside for weeks on end.

I insist that they tell me everything first, so happy to just be around them, catching up on everything that’s happened.

I know I need to tell them my story. Not just the dashing rescue parts, but the military base hiding in the forest, Mercenia’s mysterious presence on this world and what it might mean for us and the tribe.

I know they have questions - I can see them glancing curiously at my clothes.

But for now I just want to surround myself in the joy of everything, so I tell them about Dazzik, and how he was wrongly outcast, and how he fought so hard to get me free of Basran’s hold.

“You can have. My old hut,” Carrie says, her voice a little breathy, stilted. The others say she stopped talking altogether for a while, but since being with Endzoh, it’s slowly been coming back.

“Yeah, you’re not turfing me out of ours,” Khadija says, grinning at me.

I grab my pack, and Dazzik’s hand, following after Carrie as she shows me to her old hut.

There are still signs that she once stayed here, but it doesn’t have that lived in smell anymore, and I quickly tidy away the few things we have, folding my clothes into the baskets in our bedroom.

Dazzik doesn’t have much, most of his things threadbare and worn.

But while we are unpacking, Maldek appears, and in his arms he has a small pile of clothes big enough to fit a strapping raskarran warrior.

Dazzik accepts them gratefully, and I give Maldek a big hug.

He holds me tight, and I know he’s carried the weight of responsibility for losing me, even if none of it was his fault. I hope he sleeps easier now I’m back.

“It’s not quite as grand as the military base,” I say, looking round.

“I like this much better,” Dazzik says.

“Me too.” I smile up at him. “Just need to add the finishing touches.”

I grab his pack, fishing the stones out from the bottom of it. I line them up on the sideboard side by side, a rainbow of colours and sparkles.

“Perfect,” I say with a grin.

“It is perfect,” my mate says, wrapping his arms around me and drawing me against him.

I know he’s been worried about whether Gregar, Walset and Darran would accept him, and I’ve seen the wary looks on the raskarrans’ faces.

It will take some time for them to overcome that feeling that they should be turning him away, but they’ve all made an effort.

From Endzoh and Olfran in the forest to Gregar to all the rest of them round the fire.

I turn in his arms, drawing him into a kiss.

And though it’s the middle of the day, my mate responds enthusiastically, lifting me into his arms and carrying me through to the bed that is now ours, freshly made with clean furs.

Dazzik lies me back on them, kissing my neck as he reaches for my boots, loosening the ties and tugging them off.

And I’m feeling hot and needy all of a sudden, the place between my thighs demanding to be filled.

“Dazzik,” I breathe, scrabbling for his top and tugging it over his head.

He seems similarly affected, yanking my trousers down with an impatient snarl.

He’s often a bit rough with me and I love it, love the feral way he pounds into me sometimes, love that it’s me that drives him to that sort of need and desire.

Right now, though, it’s on a whole other level, and we both of us paw at each other in our haste to get each other naked.

At last, he shucks off his trousers, his cock springing free. I reach for it, gripping it in my hand, intending to take him in my mouth, get him good and wound up before he fucks me. But as I touch him, his cock seems to be vibrating.

I hesitate, and Dazzik does, too, looking down at himself. It’s then I see that the delicious little bump above his cock, the one that works my clit so well, is engorged, pulsing.

I know what this means.

“A baby?” I say, eyes welling with tears.

“Yes,” Dazzik says, his own eyes watery. “Yes, linasha. A youngling.”

I throw my arms and legs open, welcoming him into my body. He thrusts in deep, no foreplay necessary. I’m already wet and ready for him.

He doesn’t thrust, doesn’t even move, just braces himself over me, staring down into my eyes with wonder.

The vibrating of his cock, the pulsing of his mating node over my clit is driving me wild already. I grip his arms, nails biting into his biceps, as I throw my head back, a moan ripping out of me.

“You like that, do you, my little nightmare?” Dazzik says, nuzzling at my neck. “Do you like it because it is my cock inside you, or because it fills you with my seed?”

I don’t know why that’s so hot, but oh fuck it is.

“Both,” I say, gasping. “Both.”

He chuckles. “My elders talked to me of seeding a female. How pleasurable she would find it. Tell me how pleasurable it is, linasha.”

I try, but as I open my mouth to speak, my first orgasm rips through me, and all I can do is gasp and pant. Dazzik chuckles, apparently satisfied with this answer.

“Is it pleasurable for you as well?” I ask, when I’ve caught my breath enough to speak.

“Hmm,” Dazzik says. He doesn’t seem to be panting and needy like me. Like he normally would be if he was moving inside me. “I think I would prefer you like this.”

He pulls out of me, but before I can protest, I’m in his arms and he’s driving into me from behind, his mating node teasing up against my back entrance, illicit and thrilling. One arm bands tight around me, holding me to him, while his knees spread mine wide, his other hand going to my clit.

“Do you like it like this, little nightmare?” he says, nipping at my neck as he thumbs my clit.

I whimper, resting my head on his shoulder.

Already I’m building to a second climax, the steady pulsing of Dazzik’s cock inside me, combined with his clever fingers on my clit is driving me wild.

Then I’m coming again, shuddering and grinding myself down on him, and still he’s rock hard inside me, no sign of easing off.

“How long?” I ask, my hips twitching as his insistent touches stoke pleasure in me again. His knees keep me spread wide open, and in this position I feel exposed, and I’m surprised how delicious I find that.

“A long time yet, linasha,” Dazzik growls. “But you want that, do you not? Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me. I want you to play with my breasts and my clit as I come over and over again. I want you to bite my neck.”

He gives me another little nip, soothing over it with his tongue as he cups my breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading.

I’m ragged already, breathless and aching and so close to yet another release.

I make a high, keening noise, and then I’m coming apart, trembling in his arms at the force of my orgasm.

After that, things start to blur. All I am is the blissful blend of pleasure and sharp, aching need.

Over and over again, I climax, until my muscles are limp, my body exhausted, and only then does the insistent pulsing stop.

Only then does Dazzik draw out of me, lying us both down side by side, his hand pressing to my stomach.

“A youngling,” he breathes against my shoulder, his tone wondrous.

“Yes,” I reply, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.