Page 90 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rachel

I dream all night of Vantos. Just not the kind of dream I want. Well, it is almost the kind of dream I want - dreams about our bodies intertwining, our breath coming fast as we move together towards an undeniable, powerful climax.

The problem is, it’s just a dream. Not a dreamspace, where those things could be happening for real between us.

God, I could have melted in his arms last night.

The way he rubbed my back and shoulders was delicious, but it was the way he held me afterwards that had me undone.

Sure, he didn’t seem to know quite what to do with himself or me - and looking back that was perhaps the first sign that the whole interaction meant drastically different things to me than it did him - but once I guided him into place, it was so perfect.

His arms warm and strong around my body, his chest a solid rock of support at my back, his scent in my nose.

I never really noticed his scent before.

In the medical hut, he smelled first of sickness, then too faint beneath the overpowering stink of the herbs and medicines.

I never caught the delicious masculine smell of him - the smell of the outdoors and greenery and more musky notes that made me want to lean in, breathe deeper.

But more than any of that, more than the fire burning between my legs when I finally ripped myself away from him and put myself to bed before I did something to compromise our friendship, was the feeling of safety.

Completeness. It was so easy to imagine his big hand stroking my belly, caressing me and the child I carry, his eyes full of warmth and satisfaction that I was his woman and we were going to be a family.

I need to stop torturing myself like this.

Mama might not have taught me a lot, but she was really clear about some things.

One of them being that no man would take on another’s child.

That’s why I had to hide in a cupboard with Daniel, trying to keep him quiet while she entertained whoever her latest man was.

I remember one time he started fussing - before the creak of the bedsprings and the groans of pleasure grew loud enough to drown out a young child’s boredom.

I had to put my hand over his little mouth to stifle his jabbering, the whole time whispering into his ear that I was sorry, but could he please, please be quiet?

It didn’t work. Appealing to a child’s better nature rarely does. And Mama’s male friend had heard his fussing, leaving before Mama could earn her pay and never coming back again. I caught quite the beating that night.

I sigh. I see no problem with being enterprising - selling what you have to make your life a little easier.

For bottom tier girls, all we really had was our bodies.

Plenty of people did it. But Mama… She had this dream that she’d get pregnant by one of her upper tier clients and they’d marry her, bring her into their life so they could do right by their child - which was funny when she so rarely did right by hers.

It was her way out of the backbreaking labour in the textile factories.

We all have our dreams about it, every bottom tier woman, but Mama’s plan had failed twice already.

First with me, then with Daniel - the only one of my siblings that survived past infancy.

It was her madness, clinging onto her plan despite the evidence that it would never play out the way she wanted it to.

I judged her for it. Mama might not have been wrong to call me stupid, but I could see she needed to turn a mirror on herself - see that she had her own faults when it came to her intellect.

Even stupid little me could see that none of her men were ever going to take her home with them for a better life.

Especially not as she got older, more stooped, her hacking cough getting worse.

And then I met Jeremy, and I thought I was so lucky. That I’d managed to achieve what Mama couldn’t.

But it ended for me exactly the way it always ended for Mama. Pregnant and alone.

And just like Mama always did, I’m trying to repeat the mistakes I’ve made. Looking for acceptance into a man’s heart as a way out of my problems. Only I’m far more stupid than Mama ever was, because at least she was mercenary about it. She never cared about any of the men she took to her bed.

Me, I fall in love with them. I can blame naivety for Jeremy. I thought I loved him and thought he loved me back. But Vantos - I know he doesn’t want me. He wants his linasha. My feelings for him are a fire that is going to consume me if I’m not careful.

Worse, they distract me from my goal. They work in opposition to it. I’m supposed to be making myself invaluable to the tribe, not wasting my energy pining after one of them. Risking alienating one of them.

As if my body thinks I need another reminder why, my stomach churns, a wash of sickness coming over me strong and sudden.

Most of the time, it’s just a metallic taste in the back of my mouth, an unsettled feeling in my stomach that I can ignore.

This morning, it feels like my insides are writhing, my mouth filling with saliva, and I know I’m going to puke.

I get out of bed as quickly as I can without looking like I’m trying to be quick, then head out of our tent and a little way out into the trees.

I go further than I feel safe to do so, afraid that Vantos will hear my retching, afraid of the questions that’s going to prompt, then drop to my knees and empty my stomach onto the forest floor.

I’m sweating and shaky when I finish, leaning against a tree trunk as I try to compose myself. My eyes stream from being sick, and then they just stream, my emotions pouring out of me. I put my fist to my mouth, biting down on my fingers as I try to stop myself breaking down and sobbing.

When I go back to the tent, I have to look like I haven’t been breaking my heart out here.

Can’t have red eyes and blotchy cheeks. So I force myself to take slow, steadying breaths.

I suck the moisture from a few nearby leaves, collecting the early morning dew in my mouth, swilling it round to rinse away the taste of sick.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame it a little, and dry my eyes on my sleeves.

I’m probably a total mess, and with no reflective surface nearby, it’s not like I can check, but I try to walk back to our little camp with my head held high.

Of course, as soon as I see Vantos crouched over the fire he’s built up to cook breakfast, my heart twists with longing, my mind going back to the filthy dreams I had last night.

I force myself to slow my breathing again, filling my lungs to the brim, holding for a moment, then releasing the air equally slow.

Feeling more in control, I go to take a seat next to him.

The going is much tougher today. Before we even stop for a lunch break, I’m feeling exhausted.

It’s not just that I’m tired after yesterday, that even helped by the djenti berry tonic and Vantos’ ministrations, my legs feel heavy - like my muscles have been replaced with rocks.

It’s the terrain, too. It gets more rocky, lots of scrambling up and down uneven areas between the trees.

My balance isn’t great, and I don’t have much faith in my feet.

Vantos jogs down the inclines like he’s done it thousands of times and knows exactly where to put his feet.

I stagger, usually reaching to grab him as I stumble down the last few inches.

At least I’m too terrified to respond to his skin against mine.

Hard to work up any of that kind of heat when your heart is pounding for entirely different reasons.

Shortly after our lunch break, Vantos pauses, taking a deep breath, scenting the air.

Wind whips through the gaps in the trees, stirring up my hair and nipping at my exposed skin.

I’m hot from the effort of walking, but I can tell the temperature has dropped.

It’s the coldest I’ve been since we landed here.

Vantos turns to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

He unhooks his bag, setting it at my feet, making a gesture for me to stay where I am, before he turns and starts climbing a nearby tree.

Long, deadly looking claws eject from his fingertips moments before he plunges them into the bark, moving up the tree with as much ease as he traverses the ground.

I wait a long moment, wondering what he’s looking for.

I hope we’re not lost, that he’s not up there searching for some sort of familiar landmark.

The raskarrans obviously have some means of navigating the trees.

Everything looks the same to me, but even when we were travelling through the unfamiliar territory between the beach and Gregar’s village, the raskarrans never seemed to doubt their sense of direction.

When Vantos lands back on the forest floor, he turns to me with an urgency in his expression I haven’t seen before.

He marches towards me, full of an intensity that takes my breath away.

But he doesn’t sweep me into his arms or kiss me breathless, or any of the other things I’m busy imagining.

Instead, he swings his pack up onto his back and grabs me by the hand, tugging me after him as he starts moving through the trees at a punishing pace. I have to jog just to keep up with him.

“Wait, what’s the rush?” I ask, already breathless.

The wind snatches away my words, gusting around me, making me feel unsteady on my feet. There’s a chill to it - not as cold as some wind I felt back home, but so out of place in the muggy heat of the forest that it might as well be.