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The human female looks up at me in surprise. "I never thought of you as bloodthirsty, Sessah."
"If someone hurt you, I would tear them apart," I vow. "Not many things make me angry, but the thought of someone harming you…that makes my thoughts…unpleasant."
Sam gets to her feet, mindful of the ledge. She picks up her discarded furs and boots, shrugging, and I can tell she is avoiding looking at me. "That's sweet of you, but no one there has hurt me."
But she has been hurt in the past. The statement hangs between us, unsaid. "We are friends, are we not? You can tell me anything."
She pauses in front of me, her gaze on my chest. I do not know if she is staring at me, Sessah, or thinking about the khui that sings loudly inside me, demanding we mate. She finally looks up at me and gives a faint smile. "You know we're friends." Her khui thrums loudly as if in protest of her words, and she grimaces. "I know I owe you a few of my secrets. But I think I'd like to get drunk first."
I grin at that. She is opening up to me, and I will take what I can get. "Ha-nah keeps the sah-sah stored by the bathing pool, does she not? We can swim and drink and enjoy each other."
Her eyes go wide and she takes a step back.
"Not like that," I blurt out quickly, and my face heats. "Not-not enjoy each other like that."
"No, of course not." Sam manages a smile. "And a swim sounds good."
10
SAM
A swim is the dumbest idea I've had, ever.
We climb down to the bottom of the fruit cave, the weird, always-hot greenhouse cave set up by Sessah's ancestors, and Sessah carries our packs down. I'm barely at the water's edge, peering into the clear, artificial pool of warm water, when Sessah strips off every bit of clothing he's wearing and jumps in with a splash.
Right. Because his tribe bathes naked and I've forgotten all about this. To his people, nudity is not an issue. They're as casual with their bodies as they are with public affection. As he erupts from the water, spouting a mouthful into the air and then floating on his back, I blink at the sight of him. Water droplets sluice down his velvety skin, making it seem almost a deep indigo when damp. He's so big and muscular now, all raw power, that I should be afraid of him. I'm not, though, because at his heart, he's still sweet, kind Sessah with a generous heart.
Huge hands and feet now, sure, but still the same big heart.
I try not to stare as he floats in the pool, but I can't help it. His cock—semi-erect—juts up from his body and points at the ceiling of the hive-like cave. Huge…everything.
And I'm resonating to him.
Biting back my sigh of utter frustration, I roll up the soft leather of my leggings, until the material is above my knees. Then I head for the supplies organized in the back of the cave, no doubt courtesy of Hannah and her obsessive need for control. I get that. I've got an obsessive need to make weapons, so I understand. I pat the ones still tucked into my tunic, reassuring myself that they're in place, and then rummage amongst the dried fruit and waterproof skins until I find the containers I'm looking for. Several round fruit with hard rinds have been hollowed out, the rind smoked over fire to harden it further and corked with a rolled up bit of waterproof hide. I pull out the “cork” and sniff the contents, and it nearly blows my hair back with how strong it is. "Jesus," I mutter, then lift it to my lips for a taste. Smells like paint thinner, tastes like a pina colada on steroids.
I take a larger sip and move toward the side of the pool, where Sessah is still floating, his tail making ripples in the water. I sit on the edge and soak my feet, taking another drink of the sah-sah. It's a fermented brew made entirely from fruit and a few herbs, and from what I've been told, there's someone over in Croatoan who is the one with all the skills. I don't remember the name, and for the first time in a while, I feel a guilty pang. I've heard so much about the other tribe, but I've never gone over to meet any of them. I'm one of the few that hasn't—Steph won't leave the beach because Pak and Juth aren't comfortable with it, and so she hasn't gone, but everyone else? They traipse back and forth between our village and the snowy one, visiting family or saying hello to friends.
Except me. I've pushed everyone away.
Melancholy, I take a large swig of the drink and something pulpy catches in my throat. I sputter, coughing, and wipe my mouth.
