Page 231 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER FOUR

Calran

“ S -start?” my Grace stammers. “Now?”

I shake my head. We are lying next to each other and she is stiff as a good climbing branch. She would not yield to my touch as tight as she is holding herself just for being near me.

“I mean when you are ready,” I say. “Right now, I am content to lie beside you. I told you I would not touch you without asking, so you do not need to fear that I will be overcome by need and grab you.”

I give her a quick grin so that she can be sure I am only teasing. Amusement shapes her full lips, and I am again reminded of kisses.

“Did that male give you kisses?” I ask.

Grace shakes her head. “I don’t think he much liked to touch me. I was lesser than him, lower. I wasn’t… worthy of him. He did what he considered necessary, nothing more.”

I hate that she has been treated so badly, but in its way, this gives me an approach to take.

If he has only thought of seeding young in her, then we will think of everything else.

I will touch and taste and stroke and lick until she is begging me to fill her.

I am sure I can make her beg if she gives me a chance to try, and she has been so very brave so far.

I grow more confident that a chance will come, if only I continue to be careful, slow in my approach. Always considerate of her fears.

And when she surrenders to me, it will be the sweetest thing I could ever know.

“Before we consider touches, I think it is important that you get accustomed to my nearness. My closeness makes you tense, I know. I would have my closeness give you comfort, make you feel safe.”

I do not expect her to respond to this. We are already in a position to do it, after all, me lying so close to her on this bed. When beds must be a difficult thing for her to consider sharing. It is enough for me that she has accepted this much, but my Grace surprises me again with her bravery.

“Perhaps you could put your arm around me?” she says, her voice shy.

“I would like that very much.”

She shuffles closer to me, lifting herself up so that I can slide an arm beneath her.

I draw her close to me, her head resting against my chest, her body tucked into my side.

She is tense, almost trembling in my arms, but she does not freeze, and she does not try to wriggle away from me, instead breathing slowly in and out until she settles, her body relaxing at last.

“This is okay for you?” I ask, trailing my hand down her arm.

She moves her head then makes a small laughing sound.

“Yes, it’s fine. It’s nice. You’re so warm.”

“And you are so small. You are lucky to have mated to me, Grace. I think you would be very cold during the long rainy nights without my heat to warm you.”

I keep my voice light, teasing, and I am rewarded with a chuckle.

“Will you be inviting all the other unmated females to share your warmth, out of concern for their wellbeing?”

I laugh. “Would you think me cruel and callous if I did not?”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I’d like to share you. Does that make me selfish?”

“If it does, I like it very much.”

I raise a hand, stroking it through her curly hair.

It is so unusual, so unlike any raskarran female I ever saw.

I love the way it bounces when she moves, the shape it forms around her face.

None of the other human females have hair like this, and so I think my Grace must be a rare beauty among her people.

“Tell me something of yourself,” I say, the urge to know more of her filling my chest.

“I’ve told you a lot of it already.”

“You have told me the bad things that I need to know, and I am grateful for it, but the bad things that have happened to you are not the whole of you, Grace. What do you dream of in your future? What makes your heartspace sing? What is your most cherished memory?”

My Grace remains silent for a moment, then, in a small voice, asks, “Would you tell me one of yours?”

“Of course,” I answer, though I wonder at her reluctance.

Whether the cause of it is perhaps that she does not have so many cherished memories.

We will make plenty, I want to tell her, but instead, I speak of my own.

“My brother’s linasha, Lahven, was considered by many to be the most beautiful of the females in any of the nearby tribes.

Certainly she had as fine a face as I have ever seen until I saw yours.

My brother is ten seasons my senior, and so I was young when he mated, not yet a male full grown.

Yet I was grown enough to feel a pang of jealousy, that my brother was so lucky to be blessed with Lahven for his mate.

Of course, it was a foolish feeling. But young males are often fools.

“I forgot any jealousy that might have lingered the night that Lahven brought my niece Mellah into the world, though. She laboured through the day and late into the evening, my brother pacing from one side of the village to the other as he waited for his youngling to be born. She was such a pretty little thing, Mellah. Tiny little nose and big, wide eyes, her tail only as long as my finger. But when Lahven placed her in my arms, that tiny little creature captured my heartspace fully. There is an ache in my heartspace that will never fully heal that I did not get to see my nieces grow, take mates and have younglings of their own, but holding little Mellah, and little Fallah who came after, for the first time remains one of my most cherished memories.”

“I’m so sorry you lost them,” my Grace says, and there are tears welling in her eyes as she looks at me.

“The sickness was a cruel thing. It took many. My sufferings are less than my brother’s, and now I have you as a balm to those hurts.

I only hope my brother can find joy in my joys, as I once did with his.

I would see him truly happy again, but I think perhaps it is not possible.

If he could get close to such happiness, that would satisfy me. ”

“Your family is very important to you.”

“Yes. And you are my family now. You and Molly both.” I consider what I know of the females, that they are come here from another world. Stranded, their old tribe not willing to come for them. “Did you leave family behind when you came here?”

“No,” Grace says, with a short laugh that holds no amusement. “No, Mercenia didn’t make it easy for people in the lower tiers, tribes, to have family. My parents both died young while I was Simon’s possession. I didn’t get to see them in the end, but I’m almost glad of that.”

“It is not a pleasant thing to see your loved ones grown so weak before their time,” I say, remembering Lahven in the end, all her beauty robbed from her by the sickness.

Grace pushes herself up out of my arms, turning so she can look at me, one arm braced on my chest.

“This conversation has taken a bit of a morbid turn,” she says, her lips curling up a little at the edges. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

“Do not apologise for speaking the truth of your experiences to me. I am your mate. I am here to share in your hardships and your hurts, just as I would hope you would share in mine.”

Her eyes are soft, her shoulders relaxed, her body growing comfortable against mine, despite our conversation.

I raise a hand to her cheek, brush my fingers across her skin.

Her lips part, a soft exhale escaping them, and I wonder if it is wise to take a chance.

Decide that I am going to, if it is wise or not.

“Would you show me human kisses?”

My Grace’s cheeks burn bright red, and she drops her gaze from mine, but she does not shy away from me.

“I’ve never done it before,” she says. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

“I have never done it before, either. I have nothing to compare your skill to.”

She catches my eye briefly, a flash of a grin appearing on her lips.

“Well, then, I guess it won’t matter.”

She leans forward, angling herself so she is higher up on my body, bringing our faces into alignment.

I wait, holding myself still, not wanting to startle her.

Slowly, a hair’s width at a time, she edges closer to me.

As her breath tickles over my skin, she closes her eyes.

I would close mine also, but I am enraptured by the sight of her coming towards me, her expression empty of any fear or tension, her lips slightly parted.

Then her lips press against mine, and I understand why her eyes close.

It is so that nothing else might distract from the sensation of lips touching lips.

Soft, gentle caresses of her mouth over mine have my cock instantly hard in my leathers, a growl rising in my chest as my desire to crush her to me threatens to overwhelm my senses.

But I force myself to stay mostly still, only bringing my hands up to hold her, one against the small of her back, the other holding her arm where it is pressed to my chest.

For the first few moments, my Grace’s kisses are light, fleeting, as if she is as concerned about my limits as I am about hers.

I rumble my pleasure in her attentions deep in my chest, and I think it must encourage her, for the next kiss she gives me is firmer, more exploratory, her lips parting mine, our mouths sliding together.

I groan, my hands tightening on her body, but I do not move them.

No matter how much I want to, I will not do anything without her clear invitation.

Then her tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, licking at me, and I am lost. I will not move my hands, but my tongue is powerless not to tangle with hers, and I lick deep into her mouth, tasting her.

Grace’s arms slide around my neck, and she presses closer to me, the kiss growing deeper, more urgent.

My cock throbs with need, but it will have to wait.

That my Grace is already giving me this is a gift I will not squander by trying to take more.