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How am I supposed to hunt with a constantly hard cock? “It is too late in the day to hunt.”
“Well, whatever.” She gives me an apologetic look, but it is clear her mind is made up. I watch her, feeling abandoned and annoyed as she cleans my seed from between her thighs and then finishes dressing. She heads out of the hut and leaves me alone.
Is she deliberately trying to put distance between us? Or is she tired of my company already? What if the affections I feel are only one sided? What if F’lor is tired of me already? I am the one that clings to her, not the other way around. I am not used to this, and I do not like it. Not one bit.
I need to make F’lor give her heart to me. She already has mine but it is obvious she is guarding hers. One night of gentleness will not be enough to convince her that I am the right mate for her. I need to do more.
I should feed her, I realize. She needs more food for the resonance to complete…and feeding her will show I can be a good mate. I jump to my feet, determined, and dress quickly. A’tar the dragon mentioned fruit, and I know all the females love the treat. I will get some for my mate, and she will shower me with kisses and ride my cock in thanks.
This is an excellent idea. My head full of images of F’lor riding my cock as she eats fruit, I emerge from the hut and adjust my loincloth, because my cock is already painfully hard at such a thought. I sit on the edge of the hut’s platform outside, watching the tribe as I put on my boots and wind the leather straps around my calves. Several of the females with young are clustered near the fire, as is D’see and O’jek, who are feeding each other tidbits. My lip curls at the ridiculous sight, and my chest stings with envy. F’lor does not feed me like that. D’see has a look of utter devotion on her face as she gazes up at O’jek, her happiness evident.
Bah. I should be happy for both of them. O’jek is like a brother to me, and I am truly glad that he has the female he has coveted. I am just lost in my own problems. I watch them for a moment longer, and when no one produces fruit, my gaze strays to A’tar. He carries one of his sons in his arms, standing a short distance away from the fire. I notice he talks with both R’kh and R’hosh and their mates, a concerned look upon all faces.
And R’jaal is there.
My competitive side makes me stride up to them, interrupting the conversation. “I would have some of this fruit you mentioned, A’tar. My mate likes sweet things.” And I cast a triumphant look in R’jaal’s direction. “I should like to feed her well.”
“Swing that dick in another direction,” Leezh tells me with a roll of her eyes. “The adults are talking here.”
I check my loincloth, just in case my cock has worked itself free and truly swung in her direction, but everything is covered. R’jaal gives me an angry glare but I ignore him, looking at the others. “What are you speaking of?”
They exchange looks.
“It’s complicated,” H’rlow says after a glance at her mate. “We’ll tell everyone what’s going on once we’ve figured out the best course of action.”
“Action for what?”
“This is leader shit,” Leezh says. She does not like me, and that dislike makes her words short. “So go away.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Am I not the leader of Shadow Cat clan?”
“Now you have done it,” R’hosh mutters.
His mate only gives him a wry look of understanding.
R’hosh sighs and gestures that A’tar should continue.
The drakoni male shifts the kit in his arms, handing his son a toy. He glances over at me, and then back at the others. “We were discussing how Tia and I went to the fruit cave to bring back some treats for everyone, but when we got there, it was cleaned out. All the fruit was gone, even the unripe ones. The vines are untouched, but someone’s stolen the jerky and furs we had there, as well.” He nods at R’hosh. “I was just telling them that it doesn’t seem like something Croatoan would do. The fruit cave is a long walk for them and when we left the village, no one was headed in that direction. We would have seen them heading back with a laden sled, but there was no one on the trails.”
R’jaal rubs the fur on his chin. “Metlaks, then? S’bren and M’tok said they have seen more of them hunting lately.”
Leezh shakes her head. “The metlaks stay farther in the mountains. If they’re coming closer to the beach, that’s a whole new problem.”
“It doesn’t seem like a metlak thing?” H’rlow says. “They would have torn apart the vines or fouled the pool. You know they’re destructive. But you said everything was clean?”
“Neat and tidy,” A’tar agrees. “If I hadn’t been there recently, I would have assumed that no fruit was in season. So not metlaks, then.”
Leezh turns to me. “Well, great leader? You wanted to be part of this conversation. Any bright ideas?”
“Someone has clearly stolen and will not speak up. We need to find where they have hidden this fruit and retrieve it. Perhaps it is someone from Strong Arm or Tall Horn.”
R’jaal bares his teeth at me. “You dare—?”
“What is more likely?” I retort. “That a Tall Horn decided to snatch the fruit while out on a hunt? Or that metlaks left a tidy cave?”
R’kh tilts his head, and I can see he agrees with me.
“Is it possible that it’s someone else?” H’rlow asks, her expression thoughtful. “We didn’t know Pak and Juth survived the island’s destruction until they showed up. If it’s not someone here in Icehome and it’s not someone from Croatoan, perhaps there’s another survivor.”
