Chapter 14 #2
“I know, but that is how it is. Given my… differences, Kusha knew it was only a matter of time. So one day, she decided we’d tell a lie.
” I let my words hang there for a moment as I contemplated that fateful afternoon.
We’d found ourselves a very broken section of a skyship, partially buried in the ground.
Surrounded by broken metal and dangling wires, in darkness absolute, it was as if we’d been hidden from the world.
Kusha had already been ambitious then—fighting often—and she had known I’d had her back, always: her lookout, her informant, the one who told her about strengths and weaknesses.
She’d decided on the plan in a hushed whisper, blue eyes gleaming with excitement.
I recalled not wanting to lie, but wanting to be safe with the Clan too.
Being her mate, even when we were barely adults, would have given me the ultimate protection.
Given how close we had always been, it had seemed like a lie we could get away with.
So I had accepted, and we’d stayed in that wreck for a week without telling anyone.
She had insisted on tailplay, on ensuring a youngling soon, to make everyone less suspicious too.
“When we told the village we had mated, they did not believe us. We could not show mating marks, and Kusha fought a lot to make the females forget the rumors. The next summer, Rasho was born; everyone stopped talking then.” Holding my oldest in my arms had made that lie seem worthwhile—like it was okay then, because this was the reward: a beautiful son who looked so much like his mother that he’d never have issues fitting in.
Then his scales had lost their luster, and Kusha had insisted on a new youngling to replace the disgraced one.
Daois’s eyes had not turned amethyst until he came out of his third molting, and Kusha had wanted another child again.
“So it worked,” Jolene said, jerking me from my spiraling memories.
The hot anger and helplessness I’d felt as Kusha rejected one youngling after the next because they were not good enough surged back.
It had worked—I’d never been cast out—and the one thing I’d always ensured was that Kusha did not threaten our young with it the same way my mother had.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked, but now she looked dubious.
Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the belongings of my younglings and me—the worn furniture, the soft furs, and the loft above our heads where the little ones slept.
“I guess. Kusha was ambitious, though, and she expected my full loyalty to maintain that lie. After Nisha… she changed. As if seeing a third youngling tainted by my appearance—a female at that—was the final straw. She did not nurse Nisha long, did not give her any affection at all. And after the previous queen died, she decided she would be queen next.”
I remembered that conversation well; it had been a heated argument, but in the end, I’d been forced to escort her and any other contenders as close to the Sacred Shaman Training Grounds as I could, so they could have their succession fights.
I wish I’d never done that. Then again, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be free to have Jolene, to make the choice I’d had that morning when I came here.
“Oh no, she’s the Queen? I thought you said she was dead,” Jolene asked as she lifted herself onto her elbow to glance at the door. It was as if she thought she could see through the walls straight into the heart of town and discover for herself whether this was true.
“No, she is dead, killed by Bitter Storm.” I did not want to explain that moment, it was still too fresh, too raw.
I’d been in such shock at losing my one anchor to the Clan, so confused about how to tell my younglings their mother was gone.
Then I’d been gravely injured and lost my eye.
I reached up to touch it, focusing on the details as I explained to Jolene the extent of my injuries, and how it had taken Artek, the shaman, weeks to patch me back up.
“And this was just before winter? Around the time that Nala and Artek came to the shipwreck and rescued some of us?” She did say the name of her friend this time, but I could see it dancing in her eyes.
Jolene was loyal to a fault; she wanted very badly to be certain that her Jasmine had survived.
I wished my scouts had paid better attention to those kinds of details.
I would have, but I had not left town since returning from Artek’s home.
I had not wanted to leave my younglings.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “It’s been four months since Kusha’s death.
It was still very raw to me when I found you, and I did not believe I would ever find my true mate.
I couldn’t believe it was real; I thought I was imagining it, and I didn’t want to hope and be wrong.
” A mate—a human mate—would mean leaving the Clan, being cast out, and I would not abandon my younglings.
It would condemn them to being outcasts too.
Now… after Jolene had so baldly pointed out that it might not be in their best interest to stay… I believed it was the better fate.
“When I left you in that hollow this morning, I planned to be back with my younglings. I thought we’d all leave, the Clan, the lowlands, the past. That I could take you to Haven, and that we could make a life there together.
That’s what I had made up my mind to do.
” She laughed, and briefly, I thought she was about to throw my earnest words back in my face, but the warmth in her eyes was too real to be part of any mockery.
“Of course, also without consulting me on the plan,” she said, and I winced.
I’d never have done that if she were Kusha, never made decisions for her; it had just seemed natural with Jolene.
She was soft, fragile, sweet, even if she had a sharp tongue.
It felt right to be in charge, the way I always was with my hunters and scouts, the way I was with my younglings.
I started to open my mouth to apologize, but she beat me to it.
“It’s fine, Khawla. I happen to like this plan.
It’s a good thing I’m a very reasonable, understanding woman. I forgive you. I get it, you know.”
Truly, she really was the most reasonable female there was, and my vehement agreement made her giggle in the most adorable fashion.
It was too much, then. She was in my arms; she was not unhappy about being my mate, and she forgave me for not telling her.
I pulled her closer, found her smiling mouth, and kissed her in the way of her people.
She sighed, her fingers finding my braid and pulling me eagerly closer.
“I was mad,” she whispered against my lips, followed by another kiss.
“But I was more worried that you were hurt.” I didn’t think anyone had ever said that to me before.
We still had no plan, but we had each other—for now.
I hoped that was enough. She was a temptation to curl around, to touch and stroke.
I fanned the flames until she was writhing and moaning beneath me, eagerly curling into my touch with each gasp and sigh.
It was tempting to tear her pants, too, but I forced myself to temper my urges and simply stroke her through the thin fabric.
She was close to the edge, then spiraling over it with my name on her tongue.
That was a fantasy I had never entertained, to be the focus of her pleasure that way.
It was a gift I wanted to draw out, to repeat.
My cock ached, ready to extrude so I could fill her body—and, of course, that was when Nisha cried out in her sleep.
I froze, staring with wide eyes at my mate, sigils all aglow.
She laughed softly, patting my cheek.“Duty calls, Khawla. When you go up, perhaps you should pack toys and spare clothes for them, so we’re ready to go at a moment’s notice? ”
I would do as she told me, and then I’d return to the furs to find pleasure in her soft, silky body.
She deserved every bit of pleasure for wanting to care for my younglings the same way I did—for thinking of their needs first. My blood simmered with lust, but I pushed it aside as I disentangled myself from the furs and my mate’s body.
Nisha was calmed quickly, easily rocked back to sleep, and the bag with spare things was also sorted quickly.
We did not own much, or need much, after all.
When I came down from the loft, fate had other plans in store, unfortunately.
I found Jolene curled in the furs, fast asleep, exhaustion written on her pretty face.
I did not have it in me to wake her for my pleasure then, not even for hers.
So I sat down on the edge of the nest and worked to make life a little better for her in other ways—with sewn pants and better-fitting shoes, maybe even snowshoes like the ones she’d tried to describe.