Page 238 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

It would be easy to wallow in the hurt of losing Sam for the next few days, but life must go on.

Things don’t stop just because of a loss.

Us lower tier girls are well used to that, and it doesn’t take long for things to start resuming.

The patrols never stop, of course, the safety of the village far more important than our feelings, but there’s also the washing, the cooking, the repairs and other tasks saved for the rains.

It can’t all be put on hold indefinitely.

For me, that means healing work. Checking in on Callif as he recovers from his terrible injuries.

He’s not in any danger of dying anymore, but he still needs consistent care - bandages changing, wounds checking, reapplication of salve, as well as increasingly some physiotherapy to improve his strength and range of movement, though that mostly falls to Shemza.

I can help him walk a couple of laps around the healing hut, but I don’t have the strength to do much more than that.

Rachel, being pregnant, can’t even do that much. Callif won’t allow her to.

Molly keeps herself busy in her room at first, braiding bracelets for the tribe, but I encourage her to sit in the central room where the light is better, and the fire will keep her warm.

Calran watches her with interest, then manages to mime to her that he would like to learn how she makes them.

Despite the hollow feeling grief has carved into my chest, I can’t help smiling as I watch them working together.

Calran doesn’t have the deft fingers required to make the bracelet really neat like Molly does, but when he presents his effort to me, tying it round my wrist with pride, affection blooms inside me.

Molly rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, too.

“I think she is starting to tolerate me better,” Calran says later.

I have to laugh at his choice of words. Teenaged raskarrans must be very similar to teenaged humans.

“It’s very hard not to,” I say, snuggling close to him. “You’re kind and thoughtful and persistent.”

“I hope you do a little better than tolerating me,” he says, his grin turning heated and wicked.

It’s amazing how much my response to that look has changed.

When we first met in the dreamspace, it filled me with fear and apprehension.

Now, it only fills me with need. We haven’t indulged in any touching since Sam went missing, instead spending our dreamspace time talking, consoling, supporting each other.

I hadn’t realised until now just how much I missed the intimacy with him.

But then Calran’s expression fades, concern replacing it.

“I should not speak so when we are so soon after losing your sister.”

I shake my head, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Losing Sam - it’s hard. But it reminds me that life is short, that I should enjoy the time I have.

Sam would have wanted that. She loved everything about this world.

Desperately wanted a raskarran mate. I can just picture her somewhere, telling me off for not taking every opportunity to kiss mine. ”

“Well, we would not wish for your sister’s spirit to be displeased.”

His tone is both teasing and serious. For raskarrans, death is not an end, just a return to their goddess. I’m not sure where I stand on afterlives, but it does give me a small measure of comfort to believe that some part of Sam is out there somewhere.

I press myself close to him, reaching for his cock, stroking my fingers over the hot, smooth length of it as his own hands quest between my thighs.

I wasn’t sure I believed him when he said that pleasuring me was a pleasure for him, but since learning how to bring him to climax, I’ve come to understand the joy of knowing how to touch your partner. The delight of feeling them respond.

And in a strange way, it’s helping me detach what happened between me and Simon from anything that Calran and I share.

Because there was no delight in any of that, no attention to each other’s needs.

It’s a whole separate thing in my head now, easier to push out of mind, and as Calran’s fingers glide through my folds, brushing carefully past my entrance, never quite touching it, the need to feel him inside me drowns out the fear of humiliation and pain for the first time.

“Calran,” I breathe. “I want you inside me.”

He pauses, looking down at me, heavy brows knitting together as he studies my face.

“You are sure about this, Grace?” he says, tone gentle.

In answer, I draw him down into another kiss, arching my body closer to his. He growls low in his throat, his cock twitching where it’s pressed against my belly, then his hand spreads my thighs once more, fingers circling my entrance before he presses one inside.

I gasp at the invasion, my body clamping down on his finger.

Panic flutters at my edges, but Calran kisses my neck in all the most sensitive places, driving any fear away with the soft heat of his lips.

Then he kisses further down my body, drawing my nipple into his mouth as he starts to pump his finger into me, stroking my inner walls as his tongue laves me.

The dual sensation is overwhelming and perfect and soon I’m crying out as wave after wave of pleasure builds in me.

“My Grace,” Calran growls, and he must be lost in pleasure of his own, because he’s normally so careful not to refer to me that way.

I wait to be repulsed by the term, to want to retreat from it, but instead, a single syllable tumbles from my lips.

“Yes.”

Calran’s mouth covers mine again, kissing me hard and demanding. When he draws back from me, it’s to growl out another word.

“Mine.”

“Yours,” I answer.

Another finger probes at my entrance before sliding inside.

I cry out as my body stretches, the pleasure of being filled far greater than any discomfort.

Calran’s movements grow more frantic as he pumps his fingers into me, thumb circling my clit.

I’m so close to the edge, one more touch in the right place will have me totally undone.

It happens when Calran presses the softest kiss to my lips. An orgasm detonates inside me, stronger than anything I’ve felt before. I scream as pleasure crashes through my body, overwhelming my senses, my vision going white for a long, intense moment.

I come back to the sensation of Calran nuzzling at my neck. I can feel his smile against my skin. As the prickle of sweat evaporating fades, the dreamspace returning my body to a neutral state, I turn to him.

“I think, perhaps, that was a little better than simply ‘good’?” he says with a wicked smile.