Page 75 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

“Nothing,” Shemza says. “It is your appetite. Vetti eel poison can turn raskarrans from their food for a few days. Try to eat anyway - it will help you rebuild your strength.”

I wish for strength. I wish for it more than almost anything. I want to be back on my feet and helping my tribe brothers. And sisters.

And yet, the food holds no appeal to me.

I take a mouthful, wincing at the dull taste of it. Chewing is some great hardship. I recognise the meat as ensouka - my favourite - and yet I take no pleasure in its flavour. The thought of forcing down the whole bowl is not appealing.

“ Yuhafftoeat ,” the sunset female, Rachel, says.

The human language is so pretty when she speaks it. I wish I understood their words, but it is musical nonsense to me.

She mimes eating, pretending to hold a bowl and bring a spoon to her mouth.

I hold the food out to her, thinking she is hungry, and her lips twitch as she shakes her head, pushing it back towards me.

She points her finger at me, then repeats the mime, then points at me again.

Ah, she wants me to eat. Well, in most ways I would do anything I think might please her.

But in this, I feel I might struggle. I look down at the bowl and try to find some enthusiasm for the broth it contains, but cannot.

“If you cannot eat it, you cannot eat it,” Shemza says. “It will just take you a little longer to recover, that is all.”

His words are mild, but I know he says it to goad me.

He thinks to push me towards eating and it is true that I bristle in response to his words, filled with determination to prove that I am capable of eating a meal.

But it is also true that one look at the meal in front of me drains me of that determination.

“I must leave for a time,” Shemza says. “I am checking over each of the human females thoroughly with their healer, Grace. To make sure they are all recovering from their days on the sands and the journey to the village.”

I think of the poor, bedraggled females.

Dirty, hungry and many burned pink by the sun.

Some had injuries from their arrival in our lands.

The ‘crash’, as they refer to it. Gregar says they have come from the sky, and I do not understand it.

How does someone get up into the sky to fall out of it and crash to the ground?

But, wherever they come from, I am glad they came.

They have given my tribe much hope for the future.

It is good that Shemza tends to them closely.

The human Rachel has moved from her seat beside me, going to the counter where Shemza works with his herbs and supplies.

She tidies it up, humming tunelessly to herself.

Her language may be like music, but she has not the voice for singing.

I like the sound anyway. I think that it means she is comfortable, and that pleases me.

I watch her as she works - the careful way she handles the supplies so as not to waste or damage any, the neat and tidy manner in which she arranges everything, the way she scrubs down the surfaces until they are shining.

I wonder if she is the same in her living space as she is here.

If she likes to keep things clean and organised.

I imagine her helping me to make the bed in my hut after we have spent the night sleeping in it, her body tucked against mine, my arms wrapped around her.

I would make breakfast for her, while she sat in the comfortable chair that belonged once to my father.

Afterwards, we would tidy up together, making sure my hut is a neat and pleasant space for us to return to after a long day of patrols for me and healing for her.

My brothers would tease me for being concerned with the tidiness of a female, but suitability as mates does not just involve how a person looks.

Rachel is beautiful, but that is of little consequence if she could not tolerate me, and I know I am a difficult male to tolerate.

But it is a foolish thing, wasting my time with these considerations. Lina did not choose this female for me. I must put such thoughts aside.

When she finishes her chores, she turns back to me, frowning when she sees my bowl still full.

“ Yuneedtoeatup ,” she says, tapping my bowl, then tapping her mouth.

I do not wish for her to think me so weak.

I try to raise another spoonful to my mouth, but wince as pain flares in my shoulder at the movement.

Instantly, Rachel is at my side, taking the bowl and spoon from my hands so I do not spill my dinner in my bed.

I press my left hand to the wound in my right shoulder, as if I can push down the pain.

Rachel moves again, and when she returns, she has envida bark in her hand.

It is not the strongest of Shemza’s medicines for pain, but chewing it will dull the hurt some.

I take it gratefully. Rachel gives me a shy smile as I do, and I know in my headspace that her ministrations are those of a healer, not a linasha.

My heartspace, though, does not want to listen.

I chew the bark until the pain recedes, then spit it into the empty container Rachel holds out for me.

She heads back over to the supplies, returning a moment later with my bowl of broth.

It is cooling now, congealing. Less appetising even than it was before.

But Rachel gathers some onto the spoon and holds it out towards me.

She… she wishes to feed me?

Being fed is for only the youngest of younglings, not for a warrior such as I.

I try to take the bowl and spoon from her, but raising my arm causes the pain to flare again.

I snarl in frustration. Try to shuffle so I am more upright.

Rachel stands, setting the bowl down on her seat, then perches on the edge of my bed, planting one of her tiny hands in the centre of my chest.

“ Stopit ,” she says. “ Yurgonnahurtyuself. ”

There is a tremble in her voice, but her eyes are fixed on me. Imploring me. Eyes the colour of the forest leaves. Her sunset hair cascades about her shoulders, almost glowing in the darkness. She knocks the breath out of me.

And I have frightened her with my bad mood. I can see it in the way her lips wobble a little, in the tense way she holds herself - as if she is afraid I might strike out, and is poised ready to dart out of my reach. My heartspace drops, shame making it sit heavy in my chest.

“I would never hurt you,” I say, keeping my voice as soft, as gentle as I can manage.

Smiling and friendliness do not come as easily to me as they do to the others. But I try it now. Try to smile for Rachel. After a moment, she starts to smile back, a little shaky at first, but growing more certain, more brilliant with each passing beat of my heartspace.

Then she raises a hand to my face, brushing her fingers across my cheek.

“ Yualreadygothurtcosofme .” I do not understand her words, but her skin against mine speaks a language all of its own. My heartspace answers with want and need, my cock stiffening. I grip the pelts, bunching them up to hide it before she notices. “ Idonwantyuhurtin. ”

She reaches for the bowl again and raises the spoon out towards me. There is a look of such hope in her eyes. She wishes to help me, this female, and I am a stubborn fool for refusing her. I will not refuse her again.

I do not think I could.