Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I do not head toward them. I breathe deep, filtering the scents that drift through camp. Shadow Cat scents are faint, but nearby. They are inside one of the huts, then. I glance over at F’lor once more, my khui giving a painful thrum at the sight of her walking away. Rubbing my chest, I force myself to head towards my hut.
Before I get to my home, I catch the mingled scents of U’dron and A’tam, along with their mates. There is laughter coming from U’dron’s hut, and smoke trickles out of the hole in the roof. Are they having a gathering without me? Annoyed, I climb onto the platform for U’dron’s hut and shake the string of musical shells he has in front of it, indicating I am standing outside.
The laughter goes quiet. U’dron pokes his head out and then grins at the sight of me. “You have returned! We were wondering if we would see you again soon. Come, sit and join us.”
I cast one last glance towards the direction F’lor went in, but she is gone. With a morose sigh, I rub my chest and duck into the hut.
U’dron’s hut is a thing of beauty. The boards that make the floors are all perfectly straight, the edges of the hide above us neat and clean instead of ragged. He has a good eye for such things, and even the dried herbs and fish hanging from hooks seem to be in perfect order. Inside, B’shit leans back against A’tam, her son in her arms. R’ven is cross-legged near the fire pit, with U’rav sucking his thumb and curled up on a fur next to her. It is nice inside. Inviting. A home worthy for a mate.
My mood sours when I remember that F’lor did not want to be in my hut. That she feels it is T’ia’s hut and not for her.
“Come sit,” U’dron says, returning to his seat by his mate. “We were celebrating that Shadow Cat clan now has four resonated pairs.”
Four pairs. Yes, because even now, O’jek and his beloved D’see are fulfilling resonance somewhere down the beach. He is climbing over her and making her his…as I should be doing to F’lor. Instead, I am here and she is with R’jaal.
Bah. R’jaal.
A’tam waves a hand in front of his face, his nostrils flaring as he makes a choked noise. “You reek of mating, brother. I suppose that answers one question.”
“Resonance?” B’shit asks, politely elbowing her mate. “Congratulations to you and Flor. How do you feel?
What a foolish question. I rub my still-singing chest, annoyed that F’lor is not at my side, and snap at her. “How do you think I feel?”
She flinches. “Damn. Sorry I asked.”
A’tam frowns at me now, and when I sit down next to him, he gives me a not-so-polite shove for being rude to his mate. I suppose I deserve that. B’shit is only trying to be friendly. But it is a foolish question to ask how I feel. I am yet resonating, my mate is off talking to another male, and I am making conversation with my clan instead of burying myself deep in her body.
Any male would be beside himself with irritation, I tell myself.
“It’s okay, babe. He’s just cranky. Look at his face. Like he’s been sucking on lemons all day. Flor probably looks the same.” B’shit gives me a wink to let me know she is teasing, her hand on A’tam’s knee. “Resonance must not be going smoothly.”
“Is she devastated?” A’tam asks, grinning.
What a foolish question. “Why would she be devastated?”
A’tam barks a laugh. “Because she could have had tender R’jaal as a mate and instead she got you.”
They all erupt in laughter, but I am not laughing with them. I do not think it is funny. I scowl at A’tam. “I can be tender.”
That just makes them laugh harder. R’ven gives me a sympathetic look between her giggles, leaning against U’dron’s big shoulder. “No offense, but you’re very different from R’jaal.”
“He’s sweet and thoughtful,” B’shit agrees, chiming in. “Very considerate. That’s not a trait that runs in Shadow Cat clan much, right, babe?” And she pats A’tam’s knee again.
“Eh?” is all he says.
“I can be tender,” I say again, louder. I do not like being compared to A’tam, who fumbled his resonance with his mate, and badly.
“No one’s trying to hurt your feelings,” R’ven says, stroking her son’s downy mane as the kit sleeps. “It’s just that…you’re a bit more like a bull in a china shop than a gentle sort.”
“I do not know what that means.” And it irritates me.
“Oh.” R’ven thinks for a moment. “A bull in a china shop…well, it means that you charge forward without thinking. You act first and ask questions later.”
Bah. She does not know what she speaks of. “I think first. And I can be tender.”