But at least Grasta had accepted that he had primed for Ruth and announced that they were Bonded. Now no one in the tribe would bother them. Even Kranu would not go against Grasta’s decree. Gron belonged to Ruth now, and she was recognised as a Queen, with the same rights as Grasta and Gryla. Grasta had not said anything yet about their status in the tribe. It was clear Ruth could not take dominance from Grasta, but she could take the unBonded males in the tribe for her own. Gron could not stop Ruth doing that. It was not his place, and Ruth needed a tribe of her own. Perhaps they would only stay long enough to tempt another male or two away before they left to establish a territory of their own.
Gron did not look forward to that. He wanted a tribe, the friendship and security it offered, but still it did not sit well with him to imagine doing nothing while Ruth stroked the pelt of another male, bared her teeth teasingly, pushed him to the ground. But she could not communicate with any of the others. Perhaps she expected him to help her find suitable males. Mother Goddess, what a situation he was in. It was his duty to aid her in all things, even this. He tried to think of who he could approach. It would be dangerous, treasonous. They would be exiled if discovered. Who could he trust? Who could he imagine sharing his life and his Queen with?
Perhaps Troii. He was a calm, rational, responsible male. He would be a good mate for Ruth, a good brother-mate for Gron. He was not as withdrawn as Drenz. He may yet harbour a secret desire to be chosen, to know the life of a mated male and be elevated beyond his current rank. If an opportunity presented itself, Gron would ask him.
At the moment, however, night was falling, and Grasta’s males had taken her children to her platform before they fell asleep on the forest floor. Kranu had left already, stomping off shortly after Grasta had declared Ruth and Gron to be Bonded and inseparable. Gron was happy to spend time with the family he thought he would never see again, but Ruth touched his arm and covered her eyes with her hands in a gesture he had learned meant she needed to relieve herself. It had been hours since they had arrived in the village, he should have anticipated her need.
“I will take Gruth to our platform now,” he told his parents as he stood, helping Ruth to her feet. “She is tired.”
“Not too tired to pull your tail, I think,” Brur offered cheekily.
“Continue that talk, and his won’t be the only tail being pulled tonight,” answered Gryla.
Gron drew Ruth away before he heard anymore, catching Mruin slink away out of the corner of his eye. He led Ruth out of the village, into the dark of the forest, then indicated a spot for her and turned his back. After a moment of listening to her poking about the underbrush, there was silence, and he left to find his own spot.
They met back up and a cold wind brushed over them, prompting Gron to take Ruth’s hand. They should get back to their platform before the weather changed. He guided her onto his back, and leapt into the trees. It was faster to travel this way, and he was soon letting her down onto the leaves and branches that made up their home for the moment.
Ruth went to her bag and drank some more of the water she had inside, then shook out a large square of fabric, bringing it back with her. She sat down in front of him and patted the space beside her, so he sunk down to join her, putting his arms around her as the temperature dropped further. He pulled her close as they lay down together, Ruth throwing the fabric over them before settling. It was strange, but he let her do it. It must be meant to protect them, from the cold, or from insects. Her people must need such things, not having a pelt to insulate them. Gron pushed his tail over her waist to lend her more heat.
He waited to see if she would pull his tail, as Brur had teased, but she yawned widely and rubbed her face against his arm where he offered it for a pillow, and he realised how tired he was too. It was enough just to have her whole and well in his arms, free.
He was halfway asleep when the sky opened. There was a distant crack that made Ruth gasp and bolt upright, looking about her in fear. Seconds later there was a long, low rumble of thunder. The storm was far away, but almost as he thought that, he heard the rain dance on the leaves above.
Gron stroked Ruth’s back as he sat up. She was still watching the night around them, until she spotted a trickle of water where it dripped past their platform from a branch overhead. She moved over and stuck out her hand, letting the rain run over her skin as she turned her wrist back and forth. She looked over her shoulder at him, her face happy, her teeth showing.
Gron joined her at the edge, sitting behind her with his legs on either side of her small body. He thought he could understand what she was thinking. Rain. If they had it where she was from, maybe she had missed it while they had been lost, in the cell and in the other forest. It was comfortingly natural now, beautiful. She leaned back against him, and together they sat up, listening to the rain drum through the jungle around them, watching it drip past in innumerable glittering strands.
Chapter 9
Eventually they fell asleep that way, and when they woke, the rain had stopped. The sunlight shone through the leaves, drying the jungle and making it mist with the trapped steam. Ruth had evidently woken up first, because Gron woke to her calling his name and running her hand over him tentatively. When he first opened his eyes, she was biting her lip and looked upset, but she relaxed when she saw he was awake. Had something scared her? A bad dream, or maybe one of his tribe had visited? Had she heard something?
He sat up and looked around, but didn’t see anything. He could hear the first early stirrings of the tribe on the forest floor and the other platforms, but around them everything was tranquil. The fabric was bunched and tangled around Ruth’s waist and legs. He looked back to her, to see if she was still worried, and she placed her hand on his chest and pressed her lips to his briefly. When she pulled away again, she had that soft, thoughtful look that usually meant she was thinking about mating. Gron rumbled his pleasure, hoping to encourage her, his tail flicking behind him.
Ruth leant in and pressed her mouth to his again, and he welcomed her, his arm going around her waist to gently hold her against him as he lay back against his platform. Ruth moved her legs to either side of his hips so she could kneel and take some of her weight off him, balancing better. She needn’t have bothered; to Gron, she was as light as a feather.
Ruth moved her hands over his chest as she continued to lick into his mouth. She dragged her nails through his pelt and stroked softly over his skin. Gron had never known a Queen to take such an interest in her male’s body. Normally they would just pull his tail a few times to get his attention then push him to the ground. Ruth always approached him slowly, gently. She teased him a lot before letting him into her body. It was indeed an exercise in patience for Gron.
Now he pulled his knee up to press against her behind and give him leverage should he want to move his hips, and ran his hands down her sides. The covering she wore kept her skin from him, but her legs were bare, and he pressed them closer to his sides, enjoying the cage she formed over him. Her hair fell against his face so all he could smell was her.
She wriggled as she removed the covering from her top half, eagerly pressing her bare breasts against him, reminding him that she liked him to touch them. That was another thing that was different about her. In his tribe, a Queen’s breasts were for her young, not her mates. It never would have occurred to Gron to focus on Ruth’s chest before she had brought his hands there herself.
He moved them there now, stroking the sides with her thumbs, and she lifted her chest away from his to make room for him to cup her breasts and run his thumbs over her small and hard nipples.
She moaned softly and curled her fingers into the pelt on his stomach, pressing into his touch and rubbing her open sex against his pelt where it thinned above his male part. He appreciated her scent-marking him as much as she could, anyway. He knew his scent would transfer from his pelt to her, but he could do nothing about that, since she wanted to touch him. Even if she smelt more of him than he did of her, it would s
till confirm that they had mated to the others. Other Queens might not realise he was Bonded, but he would tell them.
Her wetness touched his skin, and he grew hard enough for her to take him. Her weight on him was pressing the base of his tail against a branch, sending a thrill through him every time she rubbed herself over him.
Ruth pushed herself off his chest, sitting up, letting him look at her. She was breathing more heavily than usual, but he knew he could make her pant, and sweat, and tremble. He snaked his tail over her hip, watching her face as the tip touched her sex. She inhaled sharply, but seemed pleased, so he slowly pushed it between their bodies. It moved between her pink folds, gathering her wetness, as he rubbed back and forth, mimicking the rhythm he was imagining their mating would follow as she rode his male part for her satisfaction.
Ruth dug her nails into the muscles on his stomach, her eyes closing as she tipped her head back briefly. Gron slid his hands up her thighs, pushing her covering the rest of the way up to her stomach, then settling them so that he could massage circles into the hollows either side of her sex. He curled the tip of his tail against her entrance, and she tightened over him, her body kissing his.
Ruth shifted back and lifted her hips over his. He slung his tail around his maleness, standing it up for her, and she sheathed herself over it. She sat for a moment, both of them enjoying the feeling of being connected, she to him and he to her, despite all the obstacles and criticisms. His tribe might not understand how or why they were together, but Gron knew Ruth did. In these moments, they were together. Everything else went quiet.
Goddess, would he ever get used to this feeling? The soft wet demand of her body? This was why a male was made, to satisfy this hungry clench. He looked at her face and found her looking down at him with need painted plainly on her face, her long mane streaming over her shoulders, draped over her bare skin. Her hands stroked over his stomach again as if gathering him to her. Then she rocked gently against him.
Gron sucked his lip between his teeth as she built up speed, pushing him faster, his tail twitching against the platform, the base being thrust against it by her movements, each one sending a jolt up his spine. He wrapped his tail around her waist, holding her tightly as she sought her pleasure.
She said something then and he knew he must be pleasing her. The only time she would reliably speak was during mating, seemingly forgetting that he could not understand her, or perhaps believing he would understand her meaning, or that the words were worth saying anyway. Perhaps she was not speaking to him, but to the Goddess, the spirits, the sky.
Gron pushed himself up to be closer to her, and she eagerly seized his face and entangled his mouth with hers. Shifting his weight, he wrapped his arm around her, holding her in the circle of his body. He was pushing the limits of how much was proper for a male during mating, but his relationship with Ruth was free from the confines of his society. She was different from him.
She had never chastised him, other than the first time when she had pulled his tail from his teeth and cradled it to her chest as if he had been cruel to it. She had stayed with him when he was sick, and shared her food with him, and gripped his pelt to make herself feel safe. She made him feel important, and strong. She gave him so much.
Now he was different too. He belonged to Ruth now, soul and body. Every fibre of him was hers - he felt it.
Again, Ruth didn’t object to him taking liberties with her, holding her instead of lying back as he should. She had spoiled him. Now she met his need with hers, gripping his sweat-slick shoulder and nipping his lip briefly. The muscles surrounding him where he was inside her began to clench and pull at him, but he kept her moving, lifting her small body despite the fact that his release was seconds away and he was also losing co-ordination.
Ruth cried out as she reached her pleasure, one hand snagging a little painfully in his pelt, and he rumbled to let her know he was there with her. It twisted into a snarl as his seed released, but he soothed it again into a smooth sound of pleasure and comfort and adoration. He held her up and stroked her wet back as she caught her breath on his chest. Her coverings were damp too, as was her mane, which now stuck in strands to her face and shoulders.
She straightened and put her hands to his face, using her fingertips to smooth locks of his own dark mane off his face. Her mouth stretched thin in a simpler version of the teeth-baring, and she brushed her lips over his cheek and mouth. Even when she had taken his seed, Ruth did not stop touching him.
And he was supposed to give this up? Share it? No, he would guard it fiercely. Let them say he was crazy, that he was wrong. Any male seeking to join her court would have to go through him. He wouldn’t interfere if she sought another out, but he would stand between her and his tribe. He would protect her. He would try every day to be enough for her.
Ruth must have seen something in his expression because she stroked her thumbs under his eyes and between his brows as if smoothing his worry away, and looked at him questioningly. Her concern cleared his heart and expression, and he nuzzled his face against her cheek to reassure her.
Ruth slowly untangled herself from his lap, his sex slipping free from hers, and she struggled her sweaty coverings back over herself the way she wanted them with a wince. Clearly, it was uncomfortable.
She crawled over to the trunk of the tree and brought back her bag. She looked at him pointedly and rubbed her arms. He could recognise now when she was trying to tell him something, but he didn’t understand. Ruth pulled out the container of water and shook it, then mimed rubbing her arms again.
She wanted water? Gron remembered how she liked to submerse herself in the stream in the other forest. Perhaps that was what she meant. He thought she was from a people that lived by the water, perhaps her health would suffer without it.
He would take her to water then.
Chapter 10
Gron led Ruth out of the village. There was a small pond nearby where he would take her first. There was a larger lake, fed by a river, further away, but it was a long walk and Gron did not want to risk it. They had only just arrived back at the tribe. He would wait until they were more settled, and he had had time to ask about any tribes or wanderers in the area before taking Ruth away by herself. It would not do for them to run into a stranger.
The pond would suffice, and it was quieter. His tribe rarely had need for it.
As they walked, Ruth shared small morsels from the food in her bag. He would bring her food and watershells at the pond, relieved that such things were plentiful in the forests of his tribe, and they would not struggle as they had before. Gron listened to the birdsong from the trees around him and let it comfort him.
The pond was small and hard to find. It was away from the trail, through dense underbrush, and sheltered by large rocks that concealed the water, which was still and dark and deceptively deep. The water was clean, though dead leaves floated on the surface after the previous night’s rain.
Gron turned back to Ruth to present it to her, waiting for her to untangle herself from a vine, before she showed him her teeth and moved past him. She examined the water suspiciously for a moment, dipping her fingers in, but when he didn’t stop her, she put her bag down on one of the rocks where she would be able to reach it, and began unwrapping the fabric from her body, glancing shyly at him as he did so.
Gron kept watch until she sunk into the water, then pulled himself into the trees to quickly gather some watershells for them, dropping them to the ground below and making Ruth jump. She laughed when she saw him hanging high above her and waved. She was rubbing a white foam over her skin, but she seemed to be enjoying it so Gron assumed it wasn’t dangerous.
When he returned with food, Ruth was sitting on one of the rocks, rubbing the foam over her legs and feet. She had somehow managed to twist her hair up and hold it there so that her neck and shoulders were bare. She looked like a dream, a spirit, an unearthly, supernatural creature, which Gron supposed she was. He had no idea where she had com
e from, she had simply appeared in front of him and solidly bewitched him.
She was so strangely beautiful. It would not be hard to gather males to her. The difficulty would be in finding males who were worthy.
She looked to him and tightened her mouth again, awakening him from his trance. He offered the fruit to her and she picked what she wanted, eating without hesitation this time. He punctured a watershell for her and she drank, before gesturing to him that he should eat too.
She said something he did not understand, touching his arm briefly, but he was distracted by the drop of pinkish juice slowly navigating a trail through the glittering water on her chest.
Ruth followed his eyes, her expression turning heated. She took one of the berries and offered it to him, letting him bite it from between her fingers, then pressing her lips to his to taste the juice from his mouth. She pulled away and selected two more berries for herself, eating one and doing something strange with the second. She squeezed the berry so that the juice spilled in a red slash across her chest. Ruth looked from it to Gron pointedly, her hands going around his neck, her breast pushing towards him.
Gron didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He went instinctively, without thinking, without pausing or wondering. Her body told his what she wanted and it gave it.
His mouth sealed over her skin and she sighed as he cleaned her with his tongue. He licked a long stripe to catch the juice on his tongue, then let the gentle pressure of her hands pull him lower to where she thrust her breast out to him. Several of the red drops punctuating the inviting bareness of her skin, so naked before him, and he licked them off.
He wasn’t a fool, he knew this wasn’t about cleaning her of juice. It didn’t take long to get it all off, but he didn’t stop, instead looking up at her face as he circled his tongue teasingly around her nipple, his hand moving to her ribs to hold her. Ruth was breathing heavily, and she moaned when he finally closed his mouth over her and her nipple in the wet heat of his mouth.
Gron's Fated Page 6
