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“I guess. Sadly, those in power don’t seem to be willing to share. They’re happy to take even if that means someone else goes without.” Trying to explain Earth’s political and social system, even for one country alone, would take days. And I’d lived in the commune for years. My education had been limited. And I could only base what I said on what I remembered from before we moved there and how it was for us inside.
“I understand. Lord Vunne hoarded the wealth of the local community. Greed spans all species.”
“For sure,” I said.
“Using wealth to mate is a way of forcing someone.”
“It is.”
“Do your people ever mate because they feel love?” I asked.
“They do, and many marriages last a lifetime.”
His shoulders loosened as if he was relieved to hear that. Rising, he jumped up and snapped off a bunch of branches about four feet long. He examined the inner part of the tree and grunted.
Tumbles yipped and danced around him. He probably had no idea what Adone was doing, but neither did I.
“No moisture,” he said.
“They can’t survive without it.” Although, botany here might be different than on Earth.
“I assume it rains here occasionally,” he said, sitting back down beside me. He laid the sticks beside his thigh. Lifting one, he started attaching it to one corner of the woven mat.
Tumbles rolled over and deflated his fur, sinking onto the sand. He watched us intently, though I doubted he understood anything we said.
“Why did you ask about being with someone forever?” I asked. “I know you didn’t have a regular upbringing.” This was an understatement. “But do your people marry forever?”
“We call it mating, and when someone meets the person they’re fated to be with, they know deep in their heart that this person is the one.”
“You’re saying your people don’t fall out of love or realize they made a mistake?”
“We know here.” He pressed his fist against his chest. “And here.” He tapped his temple.
“I think my people feel the same, yet it doesn’t last. Statistics say one half of those who get married end up divorcing.”
“No one who is with their fated mate falls out of love.”
“That’s wonderful, but how do you know?” Yearning filled my voice. Imagine living in a society where you met someone and could tell right away that they were the one. You married—mated—and loved them until the day they died. It sounded wonderful.
“When we meet our fated one, our second heart starts beating.”
Flustered, I leaned away from him, watching his face. “You have two hearts?”
“We all do, but only one beats unless we meet our fated mate.”
He’d called me mate while I was grinding against him this morning. My hands shook, and I wasn’t sure why.
He took my hand and placed it on his chest, but all I felt was the patter of a heart.
“I don’t . . .” My throat had been dry before, but now it rivaled the desert. “Two aren’t beating.”
“Listen, then.”
Playing along, I rose to my knees and placed my ear against his chest. “Ah.” I felt short of breath, like I’d been running. “I do hear two hearts. Either that or you have a lethal arrythmia.”
“I do not have that.” When I leaned back, he cupped my face. “You hear two, Summer, because you are my fated mate.”
