“It’s okay,” she told him, stroking his face and shoulders. “They’re all healed now. I’m fine. T’Lax said they’ll disappear in a few days.”
Of course he didn’t understand her. Instead he pressed his face to the old wounds and said something that sounded awful, whatever it was. He was clearly in a lot of emotional pain, and Ruth desperately wished she could convince him she was okay.
She gripped the bottom of the t-shirt and pulled it over her head. Normally undressing would get his attention. This time he glanced at her, then simply stroked a hand down her body from her clavicle to her navel. He sat up and ducked his head to her neck, licking and sucking her with all the passion of grief, exhausted and pained and desperate.
She held him to her and moaned softly. If he wanted to have sex to get reacquainted, that was fine with her. He licked down to her shoulder, not the one that had been crushed, and continued to determinedly bathe every inch. He moved to her chest, making her nipples harden in anticipation in her bra, but just as he licked over her heart, he froze. He just stopped, his warm wet tongue pressed over her heart like he’d licked an icicle and got stuck. Then his tongue was replaced by his fingers as he stared at her chest.
“What is it, Gron?” she breathed.
He pressed his ear to her chest, then hugged her to him almost painfully tight. When she tried to wiggle a little room for herself, he looked at her, his brows drawn down and just the slightest pout. She knew that look. He was figuring something out. He looked over to where she’d come from, doing a double-take on the bag. Then his head whipped back round to her.
He gasped and his mouth dropped open. His grip on her tightened and she grunted in pain and had to try to push him off. Sucker was still strong.
“Gruth?” he said, his voice sounding more like she remembered.
“That’s... me...” Ruth forced out between gritted teeth as she tried to get enough room to breathe.
He seemed to notice her predicament because he let go of her with a shout, dropping her rather unceremoniously. She groaned as she rolled off her bad shoulder, but before she could get right, he grabbed her ankle and yanked her towards him, legs splayed either side of his, then thumped down over her.
For a moment he just looked at her, eyes jumping all over her face and body. Then he lifted one badly shaking hand to stroke over her cheekbone, watching it in wonder. He rubbed her hair between his fingers, pulled her mouth open to look inside, prised her eyelids apart to check her irises or something. She wriggled and batted him away, so he moved onto her body, pulling at her bra straps and cups, bringers her fingers close to his face to look at her nails.
“What are you doing, big guy?” Ruth whispered. “Checking to make sure I’m me?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew that was exactly what he was doing. It explained his initial reaction to her, the sad, desperate, tortured passion with which he treated her. He’d thought she wasn’t real, a spectre, a ghost. The best he was going to get. How many times had he been visited by a hallucination of her? How many imposters had he kissed thinking she was never coming back? Were all of them dead, without heartbeats but warm for him all the same?
“Oh, Gron...” she sighed, and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him down to her in a hug. He was breathing erratically, too fast, like he was crying or running or falling apart. She shushed him and stroked down the strip of fur that covered his spine. He swayed for a minute, then fell onto her in parts, first one shoulder, one hip, one stubborn elbow refusing to bend, until she finally got him cradled against her. She wrapped her legs over his back and rocked them gently from side to side as best she could, for as long as it took his breathing to calm.
It became steadier but no calmer, and he soon reared up to steal her lips in a kiss again. Here was the frantic burning need she had expected. No longer was he holding back now he knew he had the real thing. She moaned enthusiastically for him to let him know she was just as happy to be home as he was to have her.
He ground his suddenly hard cock against her pelvis and she jerked, then reached down his back to seize the base of his tail, rubbing it hard enough to make his back arch. He thrust his length against her over and over in just the right place and she moaned again and squirmed. She could feel how wet she was for him and the shorts were suddenly too much clothing. Unfortunately she had to shove him off her to get them off, but she took the opportunity to strip off her underwear and shoes too, then she grabbed him and pulled him back to just where he had been, where he slotted against her so right.
He resisted, taking a detour to lick her breast into his hot mouth, his fangs squeezing it as he sucked hard. She keened and tried to grab his ass to force him against her, but she couldn’t reach. He must have interpreted her scrabbling at his lower back correctly though, because he moved up, using one thigh to push her leg up into his hand where he held it against her stomach. He rumbled questioningly as the head of his shaft brushed her entrance and she dug her heel into his back to stop his delaying.
Gron thrust hard and fast into her, making her yelp and seize around him, then waited for her to adjust, swirling his hips ever so slightly after a moment to brush the fur at the base of his cock against her clit, which almost had her coming right then. He was far too clever, Ruth thought. She panted heavily and looked at him. He still looked dazed, like he didn’t quite believe it, and why should he since as far as he was concerned she had come back from the dead? But she would convince him, no matter how long it took. At least the life had come back to his eyes. It was still jarring to see his hollow face - it was not what she expected to see above her - but the eyes were the same. He still bit his lip when he was inside her the same way.
She took a long sweeping lick of the column of his throat and tasted dust as well as the sweat and flavour of him that she had been going for. Guess he’d given up on bathing without her to coerce him into it. There was something endearing about that. He shuddered and started moving, and she forgot about it, gripping his sides to keep him close and pressing her face against the fur on his chest to smell him.
Neither of them lasted long. Neither of them were trying to. He made her come almost ruthlessly, holding her leg down with his body and strumming her clit with his thumb, snarling into her hair as she cried out and tightened around him. He didn’t stop or slow down, his hulking form looming over her, heating her up. He kept thrusting into her fast and deep until he came with a growl, pushing in to the hilt, his body tensing under her hands.
They lay in a heap to get their breath back. Gron didn’t seem interested in pulling out anytime soon, and Ruth was fine with that. She tucked her knees against his sides and stroked his back. It must have been awful for him, thinking she was dead. She knew it would be, but she hadn’t expected to find him this physically wrecked by it. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping or eating. If he had continued to deteriorate at that rate, he probably would have been dead in a month.
He startled suddenly and looked at her again, his eyes focusing on her face in the dark.
“Still here,” she reassured him, giving him a gentle squeeze. He lowered his head and kissed her, gently this time now the panic was gone. She kissed him back, and as the kiss heated up, she felt him grow and harden inside her. Soon he was rocking into her again, tenderly this time, as if in apology, but the pressure of him still wound her tighter and tighter until she was moaning all over again, raking her nails through his fur with abandon until he lost his rhythm and curled against her body, lifting her hips with both hands to fill her up.
Chapter 25
That night he exhausted her. Just when she thought he had had enough, he would reach for her again. Clearly, a week without was a long time for him. But she knew it wasn’t that. She could almost see the doubt that she was real creep into his eyes and he would reach out to check, and she would suck his fingertips or give his tail a good hard yank. Every time she saw that loss hollow out his eyes, she replaced it with sensation, wi
th pleasure, with her. She wouldn’t let him doubt it.
And she wasn’t tired. She’d slept for a week. She could keep going as long as he needed her to. But she worried about him, and it wasn’t long before she was shoving nutrition bars into his hands and making him drink her water. The food that was left on the platform from before she’d... left looked like it had gone off.
After the fifth or sixth time, she threw the blanket around his shoulders and fetched her hairbrush. She thought she could keep up with him, but maybe she couldn’t. So she was going to clean him up to keep him occupied instead. Making sure the water bottle was in his hands, she started with his hair. It took a while, but eventually she had it and all his fur smooth and dirt-free. He looked better already. When day came, she would find food for him and not take no for an answer. He was going to take a bath too. And maybe a nap. She had her doubts that he would be satisfied with just sleeping tomorrow night.
She coaxed him into lying down and put her back to his chest. Without her asking, he moved his arm so she could have it for a pillow, and she smiled at him, pulling his other arm over her waist, where his hand splayed on her stomach. She waited for a sign that he wanted still more of her, but his hand just stroked contentedly. Okay. Maybe she would take a little nap herself. He’d given her a workout, after all.
Several times Ruth woke in the night from Gron shaking her awake, panic in her eyes. She understood. She’d felt the same, their first night here, when she had woken first and seen him asleep, the memory of him dying in that cave still fresh in her mind. So she spoke to him and stroked his face and kissed him until he seemed reassured that she was alive and real.
The final time she woke, day had broken, and she could tell from the weight against her back that Gron had finally passed out. In front of her was the rest of the tribe, staring at her in understandable alarm from a safe distance. She struggled into a sitting position, careful to keep the blanket across her front. Gron twitched awake as soon as his arm fell from her waist, springing up in panic before he saw her and pulled her to him.
The others said something to him, presumably asking him about her, and he replied. She just tried to look suitably apologetic. Hopefully they wouldn’t hate her for what she had done to their son and brother. Their conversation went on for some time, and they gradually came closer. Gron’s mother gripped his jaw and shook him roughly, but Gron jerked free and seemed more annoyed than affronted. It was true that he somehow looked worse in the daylight, and Ruth doubled her resolve to feed him up again.
Mruin had gone white as a sheet. He had been the one she had been trying to save after all, and he had watched her die, and he was still young too. She gave him a tentative smile but he didn’t react. Oh well. He didn’t look like he’d been starving himself at least.
Gron’s parents made several trips to bring them food, and Gryla unceremoniously kicked the rotting fruit off the platform. Ruth immediately began feeding Gron, popping the bite-sized berries into his mouth herself and forcing the larger things into his hands. He ate obediently for the most part, until he started feeding her back. Ruth ate just enough to keep him eating. As long as there was food, she was putting it in him. By the end of it all, his tail was flicking like it used to when he was happy, and he was looking at her with a sappy, affectionate expression rather than a panicked, grief-torn one. He must have been stuffed, or if he wasn’t, he must have really been starving.
Eventually however, he interrupted them by standing up and pulling her after him. He took them down to the forest floor and walked them in the direction of the bathing pool. Great idea, Ruth thought. But Gron let go of her hand and made the eye-covering motion they used to signal a potty break. This was followed by a lot of “Stay here, no really stay here, don’t go anywhere” gestures that she nodded along with, eventually shoving him away. He came back quickly, obviously hurrying, but he calmed when he saw she was still there. He immediately began touching her, but she put him off to take her turn, hurrying herself because she knew how likely he was to freak out and come after her.
When she got back he was indeed freaking out, so she took his hand and led him to the water where she gave them both a proper bath, using the shampoo and soap T’Lax had generated for her. She worried afterwards that Gron might get sick as he was with cold wet fur, so she hurried him back to the platform and rubbed him dry with anything she could get her hands on, making him sit bundled in the blanket until she was satisfied.
He took it all with very good grace, which perhaps in itself was worrying. There was still something missing from him. He seemed fragile now, and she knew that she couldn’t leave or let anything happen to her for a very long time now. She didn’t think he was damaged permanently, she just needed to make him forget about the bad week with good memories instead, and make everything go back to the way it was.
So that’s what she set about doing. Domestic bliss was the name of the game. She stuffed Gron full of food every chance she got, and brushed him all over, and did everything she could to entice him to sleep, and physically at least, he recovered remarkably quickly. He gained the weight he’d lost back within a week, and another few weeks of climbing up and down had him looking just as cut as he always had. His colour came back and the shadows disappeared from his face.
For his emotional recovery, Ruth sat with his family in the clearing when they were making tools and baskets and so on, knowing that he would stick close to her. She hoped the company would bring him out of his own head, that having something to do with his hands would keep him thinking about the present, or maybe the future, rather than the past. It probably did help, over time. It certainly helped his family feel better. It can’t have been easy watching him destroy himself.
He was uneasy at night for a long time. As the sun went down, he seemed afraid she would disappear, or that she wouldn’t be there when he woke up. Sex kept him distracted through the worst of it, and she hoped that just waking up holding her day after day after day would help, and one morning he’d wake up and forget that she’d ever left, instead of forgetting she’d ever come back. For as long as he had his nightmares, she encouraged naps in the shade during the day.
She lost track of the days, but using her monthly cycles as a loose calendar, Ruth counted three months go past. Gron still had his moments, but they were rare now, and nowhere near as bad as they had been. He was able to keep himself calm until he found her. He still pinned her when they slept, but now she couldn’t sleep any other way. She didn’t get pregnant. She didn’t give up hope, but she was prepared for the possibility that she wouldn’t be able to have Gron’s children. It made sense. Their species had never met before, as far as she knew. And she had no idea how she would look after a baby while living in the forest. Losing a child was a pain Ruth was happy to avoid.
So they had another calm and quiet patch. Gron was all but recovered, everyone else seemed to be getting on swimmingly, she had fashioned a variety of tools to help her get by and her basket weaving was almost faultless. Ruth was happy with her little home, even if it was a little samey at times.
That was until the day she was up on the platform getting something from her bag when she heard a great ruckus from below. She looked over the edge and saw Kranu and Troii standing by the tree line of the clearing, Gron and Gryla arguing with Kranu who seemed as arrogant and bull-headed as ever, while Troii stood patiently a step behind him.
Annoyed, Ruth hurried down from the platform. She didn’t want Kranu saying anything to upset Gron, not when she wasn’t around to kick his ass for it. As she approached the cluster of bristling Gandry, however, Kranu spotted her and it became clear he was there for her. She almost skidded to a halt. Kranu reached behind him and pulled out a third person who he thrust at Ruth, his expression ever one of anger.
Ruth’s jaw dropped. “You’re human!” she exclaimed.
The woman gaped back at her. “So are you!”
Coming Next Year...
Book 3
F
or years, Kranu has only wanted one thing: to belong to a Queen. To be wanted, valued. Not to be passed over in the prime of his life.
Now it seems he’s found his chance. Only problem is, the Queen in question is one of the strange ones that Bonded his brother, Gron. She feels miniscule next to him. They can’t understand a word the other says. She quakes in fear if he so much as looks at her.
For years, Troii was perfectly content serving his Queen as an unBonded male. He played his role perfectly and felt no dissatisfaction, no ambition for more. That is, until his best friend Gron offered him his Queen to Bond to. Now the possibilities are all he can think of, what could be consumes him. It was enough to get him exiled, sent to wander the borderlands with Kranu, the surliest, most aggressive male in the tribe.
Now Kranu’s found a Queen, a tiny thing that’s terrified of him. Kranu is determined to be Chosen. It’s Troii’s only chance to have a tribe again, though he’ll only admit to himself that he dares to want more than the life of an unBonded.
There’s one thing to do if they’re to have a chance of getting what they want. They have to take this new Queen to Ruth.
Gron's Fated Page 17
