Page 98 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rachel

T he next couple of days follow much the same pattern.

I’m woken by Vantos working my pussy with his fingers or tongue.

With my throat hoarse from jabbering his name, my legs still shaking from the force of my orgasm, I help him pack up the tent and cook breakfast before setting off.

We walk quicker, which I don’t mind at all, because Vantos does it to ensure we have plenty of time in the evening together.

He teaches me words, helps me learn how to cook, and then I reward him for being such a nice guy by sucking him off.

Which, with Jeremy, was not my favourite thing to do, but with Vantos, I love it.

I love how all his muscles bunch as if he can barely contain himself.

Love how he throws his head back as he moans.

Love the way I can tell he’s about to come by how his tail flicks erratically, tightening around whatever limb of mine it’s wrapped around.

The fact that he doesn’t seem to want to have full on sex with me… it’s fine. I’m fine with it. He’s probably just wanting to save that for his real mate. Who isn’t me.

Dammit.

I know something has changed the third morning when I wake and Vantos is already outside, making breakfast. I don’t want to seem ungrateful - the guy doesn’t owe me orgasms every morning - so I don’t mention it.

I figure perhaps he wants to strike out early today and doesn’t have time for such non-necessities as licking me until I scream.

But then he’s also subdued as we walk. When he takes my hand to help me over an obstacle, he lets it go straight away.

He sits some distance from me at lunchtime and is very careful not to touch me at all if he can help it.

And I know I shouldn’t be feeling rejected.

This is the reality I knew I’d be facing sooner or later, but it stings.

It stings so much worse than I thought it would.

Three days of bliss. My stomach clenches. I suppose it’s better than I ever hoped for when I left Earth.

In the late afternoon, I realise why the sudden change.

The paths start to clear out again, looking more like they do around our village - well trodden, the plants deliberately cut back.

We’re close to Darran’s village. I feel a shiver of nerves at the thought.

One of the males here could be my mate, and I should want that.

It would secure my position and my future.

But I don’t. I don’t want to be the mate of any of these males I haven’t met.

I don’t want anyone in my dreams but Vantos.

We’re walking in silence down one of the maintained paths when Vantos holds up a hand to stop me.

He points ahead of him to a tree, guiding my gaze upwards to the outpost that’s been built in its branches.

He gestures for me to stay where I am, then starts walking towards it.

He holds up his empty hands as he calls out something, none of the words ones I recognise.

A body drops down from the outpost platform, landing heavily at the base of the tree.

When it rises, I see the other raskarran is not as tall as Vantos, not as big.

I feel a little better for it. Vantos has never shown any concern about approaching Darran’s tribe before leaving me here while he greets them, but my head is full of the leering expressions of the Cliff Top tribe males, and how they attacked us.

I hold my breath until the moment the other male reaches out a hand to greet Vantos, gripping his shoulder.

They exchange a few words. The other male appears friendly and exuberant.

I imagine Vantos’ stern expression, his brows drawn together like he’s thinking really hard about something.

Affection swells inside me, along with a desire to smooth my thumbs along his brow - massage out the tension he must feel after a day of being Mr Serious, and have him return to the more open, relaxed character I’ve been lucky to know these past few days.

God, I’ve got it so bad. I never learn. It’s just Jeremy all over again, but worse, because this time two people will end up hurt.

Then Vantos gestures behind him in my direction, and my heart starts to race.

This is why I’m here, the physical proof of Vantos’ claims. The reason these raskarrans are being asked to leave their village behind.

And I’m struck by an intense fear that I’m not going to be good enough.

That delicate beauty, Lorna, or fierce Khadija would have been a better choice to accompany Vantos.

No one is going to look at me and think ‘yes, I’ll give up everything I’ve ever known for her’.

I’m closing in on a full panic attack when Vantos turns and starts walking towards me. I must look pale and frightened, for he touches a hand to my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

“Calran,” he says, pointing out the male, who’s craning his neck to get a better look at me. “Calran aanesh.”

Calran good. He says a load more things I don’t understand, but he’s calm.

There’s no worry in his tone. He’s not anticipating any problems - either of the Calran being an asshole variety, or me letting the side down.

I let that calm wash over me. What I really want is to take his hand, but I know he won’t do that.

Know he won’t make any sort of claim over me in front of a male who could be my mate.

I try to straighten my shoulders, walk tall as we approach.

Calran watches us, curiosity shifting into surprise as we get closer, his eyes widening as he looks down at me.

His scrutiny makes me want to hide behind Vantos, but I remind myself that this is the whole reason I’m here and try to bear it.

I scrutinise him back, looking for differences between him and the raskarrans of Vantos’ tribe.

Calran wears similar clothes, has similar features.

Both tribes are Deep Forest tribes, so I guess their customs and way of life are going to be similar.

Then I spot the tattoos on his arm, and even though he hasn’t done anything threatening, even though Vantos is calm and as happy as he ever lets himself get when we’re not alone, my mind still flashes back to the moment when the Cliff Top tribe surrounded us.

Arrows flying out of nowhere. Striking Vantos in the chest.

Terror fills my chest, visceral and overwhelming. Before I even really know what I’m doing, I dart behind Vantos, gripping the back of his top, as I press in close to him, trembling.

Calran says something. He sounds concerned, not angry.

It filters through my panic-stricken brain slowly.

As Vantos replies, his tail snakes round my calf, giving me a quick squeeze.

He’s released me by the time he turns round, puts his hand to my back and nudges me forwards.

But he doesn’t take his hand off the small of my back, and that light pressure shores me up.

“Calran greffalt,” Vantos says.

Calran friend. Not enemy. Not Cliff Top tribe.

Calran drops to his knees in front of me.

Even kneeling, he is still almost my height.

He places his hand over his heart and bows his head, his face solemn.

I remember Vantos doing this before Khadija, right back when the raskarrans first came to us on the beach.

I relax some. Anyone making the same sort of gestures as Vantos must have at least a fraction of his kindness, his goodness.

I find it hard to guess the ages of the raskarrans.

I think Calran looks older than Vantos, though.

On the bottom tier, everyone looked old by thirty, but I think of Jeremy and his friends.

Forty-year-olds who just looked distinguished, not haggard.

I put Calran on that kind of level. Older, but not old.

Certainly not like the elders back in our village.

He’s every bit as lean and muscled as all the raskarrans I’ve met so far, but in the non-physical way, there’s nothing hard about him.

He reminds me a bit of Anghar - a gentleness to him that’s obvious just from the way he holds himself.

He has a familiar look in his eye when he looks up at me - the same sort of reverence that Vantos and the others of his tribe had when they saw us for the first time.

He doesn’t have the predatory grin of the Cliff Top tribe males.

Remembering that there’s a chance he could be my mate, I study his features and try to decide if I’d be pleased to dream of him.

He’s handsome, sure, now I’ve given him a proper look, I get no bad feeling from him.

Of course, I didn’t get a bad feeling from Jeremy, so my judgement there can’t be trusted, really. For what it’s worth, he seems nice.

But the thought of him coming into my dreams makes me feel ill. Makes me want to grab Vantos’ hand and never let it go.

“Greffaltin,” I say, trying to keep the quiver from my voice.

Calran’s eyes grow wide again as he looks up at me, but he nods. “Greffaltin.”

Friends. Please God, or Lina, let it stay that way.

Calran rises to his feet and exchanges a few breathless words with Vantos. I wish I knew what they were saying to each other. Wish I knew more than words for body parts and medicines.

When Vantos drops his hand from my back, apparently satisfied that I’m reassured, I wish more than anything that he’d touch me again.

Calran turns and starts walking. Vantos follows him, and I stumble after them, my heart tripping in my chest. Vantos looks round to make sure I’m there, and I see his fingers twitch, as if he wants to reach out for me. It makes me feel better and worse at the same time.

“Calran, Darran,” Vantos says to me in a low voice. “Liv, Sally. Maldek, Rardek.”

It takes me a moment to click what he’s trying to say.

“Oh, family?”

“Family,” Vantos repeats, then turns his attention back to the path ahead of him.

I tap his arm.

“Family?”

He gives me the briefest of smiles.

“ Drova, ” he says.

I repeat it a few times, trying to commit it to memory. It takes my mind off the whole village full of strangers we’re approaching.

Ahead of us, much like the approach to our village, the trees start to thin, a gap opening between them, through which I can see the shape of huts.

Much like Calran’s clothes, they all look very familiar - the design the same as ours, the layout even similar.

I spot the medical hut between the residential ones, and it sends a pang of homesickness through me.

I miss the smell of the place - the herby scent that leaves you feeling almost woozy.

I miss working beside Grace and Shemza. I only offered to work there out of panic, and a sense that I needed to do something with myself.

I never imagined I would actually enjoy it, or that I could maybe even be okay at it.

I want to get back to it. To go home.

Calran announces our arrival in a booming voice.

I hear Darran’s name among the words, and there’s a scramble among some of the other villagers - perhaps to go and find him.

Others turn in our direction, their arms going up in friendly greeting when they spot Vantos, then freezing in place when they spot me.

After the initial bustle of movement and voices, a silence descends on the village - the rustle of the wind through the leaves, a few distant bird calls, the only sounds.

Vantos turns to me, reaching a hand towards me.

He stops himself short of touching me, and I could cry for the intensity of the ache that goes through me.

I want him to slide his hand through my hair, cup the back of my neck and lay a claiming kiss on me.

Let all these unfamiliar males know I belong to him.

Another booming voice shatters the silence, and a large raskarran marches over.

His shoulders are broader even than Vantos’, his body enormous, limbs thick with muscles.

His hair is long, and streaked with grey like an elder’s.

Fine lines mark the skin around his features, giving him a soft, grandfatherly look that’s at odds with his forceful presence.

The resemblance to Calran is clear, and I figure this must be Darran, the tribe chief.

He’s all smiles and enthusiasm as he approaches.

And then he sees me, and like the others, he stops dead.

Vantos waits a moment before speaking, and when he does, he keeps his voice low, respectful.

I hear my name amongst his words, and he nudges me a little further forward.

As he does, I realise we’ve made an oversight in my raskarran language lessons.

I could ask Darran to lick parts of my body, but I don’t know how to say ‘hello, nice to meet you’.

I don’t even know if there’s a raskarran equivalent of a handshake.

I am the worst ambassador for us human girls imaginable.

But I decide to try to bluster through it.

I take a step towards Darran, holding my hand out to him, the way Jeremy used to greet his business associates.

Darran looks confused for a moment, but his eyes twinkle with kindness, and he takes my hand, closing both of his around it with utmost gentleness.

“ Vo’shashkan, fyitta, ” he says.