I worry he’s going to think too much of our fooling around. “This doesn’t change anything, you know,” I tell him. “I still haven’t accepted you as my mate.”
“More of your denials,” he says in a smug voice. “Say what you want. I will play along with this courting ritual.”
Gah.
RAAHOSH
Has any sa-khui hunter ever slept as well as I did last night? I wake up with my cock hard, pressed against the soft, tailless bottom of my sleepy human mate and know a contentment like none I’ve ever felt before. Liz mumbles something and burrows further under the blankets, so I run a hand along her shoulder and back, admiring her soft human body.
The things she did with her mouth last night…my own mouth goes dry in remembrance. Surely those sorts of things are not done between mates? Maybe humans are more inventive. Whatever it is, I am glad for it – and for her. We must be reaching the end of the strange human courtship, and my cock aches to be sheathed deep inside her. Even now my khui begins to resonate at the very thought of her, and hers answers, singing in her chest.
I let her sleep for a few minutes more, and relieve myself outside of the cave, then return to stoke the coals of the fire. We will be out hunting for most of the day, but I want the fire pit to be warm for when we return, so I can make her a tasty broth out of bones. She’s still pale and thin, my fragile human mate, and even with eating good raw meat and a strong khui inside her, she’s still more delicate than I would like. I’ll feed her like a sickly kit, then. Many hearty meals and lots of marrow-filled broths to make her cheeks flush with color.
Even if that color is a strange pink.
I put on my breechcloth and my boots, and shrug on my tunic. She will need to dress warmly if we will be out all day, and I will have to watch her closely. Liz is not the type that will admit if she cannot keep up. She will protest and snarl and demand, even if she is staggering with weakness.
I admire the strength of her will, but out in the wild, it is better to be safe. A cautious hunter is a successful one.
I kneel beside her sleeping form and pull the covers off. Her pale human body is all soft curves, the gentle swells of her ass calling for my touch. I admire her rounded thighs and the curve of one half-hidden breast, and imagine what delights she will show me tonight.
Perhaps she will welcome me into her cunt, protesting the entire time as part of her bizarre human rituals.
And I will be home.
I nudge her when she doesn’t awaken. “Come, my mate. The hour grows late and we need to start the day.”
She groans and rolls over in the blankets, offering me a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts and the thatch of soft fur between her legs. “Not your mate,” she yawns. “Last night was just for funsies.” Then she grabs the furs and pulls them back over her.
I scowl. Not this again? It doesn’t matter if she took me into her body or not. Our khuis have decided. She took me in her mouth and made me erupt. Of course we are mated. Irritated, I rip the blankets off and toss them aside. “If you are not my mate, then I do not need to be soft on you, do I? Get up or you will be welcoming a face full of snow, as I would any other lazy hunter.”
Her eyes open and she scowls at me. “Seriously? Who peed in your cornflakes? You’re in a foul mood.”
“And you’re being slow. Did you wish to hunt or shall I go without you?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she gripes, sitting up. “Dick.”
“The song of my people?” I reply back to her, remembering her words.
“You got it.”
• • •
Once Liz gets moving and out of bed, she picks up speed and I no longer have to wait on her. We bank the fire and leave the cave behind, and I begin to show her how a sa-khui hunter moves in the wild. If it was just me, I would tie a few branches to my tail and whisk them through the snow as I walk to cover my tracks. But because I am traveling with Liz, I want the tracks to remain, in case we get separated. I want her to be able to find her way back to the cave.
Also? She has no tail.
We move through the snow and Liz suggests something called snowshoes. She is smaller than I am and the larger snow drifts go as high as her waist. At her suggestion, we head to the trees and get a few slim stalks so my mate can play around with her shoe concept when we return to the cave.
She’s happy to be out and about. Her cheeks are ruddy, but her eyes are glowing bright and there’s a smile on her face. She’s proud when she demonstrates her bow, too. I sit on my haunches and watch her practice a few shots. It’s a strange weapon, a bit like a sling that fires darts instead of stones. She pulls on the string to launch her darts, and mutters unhappily when it falls a few feet away. She makes some adjustments to the bow itself and adjusts the tiny feathers in the fletching, and then tries again, and this time she’s able to hit a tree with some speed a short distance away.