Rukh sits up, scowling, as if I’ve deprived him of some great pleasure.
“You can go down on me tomorrow or something, when I’m less tired.” Great, now I’m passing up oral sex in exchange for brushing a man’s hair? I must be tired. Or insane. Something.
Eventually I get him to put his head down and he gets comfortable in my lap, gazing up at me. The horns are a bit of an issue to work around, but I manage. His hair’s so tangled that I take small portions at a time and comb through them, starting from the ends and working backward. It’s one big tangle closer to his scalp, and I’m as delicate as possible, but it takes a lot of time. Rukh doesn’t seem to mind, though. He lounges in my lap and though his eyes are mere slits, I still get the impression he’s watching me move as I carefully undo knot after endless knot.
After what seems like hours, I have a long, shining section of his hair untangled. It’s soft, a rich black, and rather beautiful to look at. I’m filled with hair envy – my own wispy reddish-orange hair is nothing like this. “You’re going to be quite the handsome devil when you’re done, aren’t you?”
Rukh gives me a sated smile. He takes my hand in his, and instead of squeezing it like he normally does, he pulls it to his mouth and nips the fleshy mound under my thumb. It sends skitters of desire racing through me.
“Flirt,” I tease him breathlessly.
Tomorrow, this man is going to learn how to kiss…among other things. I think of the blow job I gave him yesterday. Maybe I’m moving way too fast for my own personal Tarzan. The man might not even know what resonance is, and I’m dropping to my knees at the drop of a hat and fishing for his dick. “Jesus, Harlow. Way to show some self-control.”
“Har-loh, Rukh,” he says in a sexy way. Yeah, I can guess what he’s thinking. He nips at my palm again.
I slide my hand out of his grip. “I’m going to finish detangling you first, you shameless hussy of a man.”
? ? ?
Except I don’t. I fall asleep somewhere halfway through my long, involved task, and only have vague memories of Rukh pulling the comb from my hand and bundling furs around me.
When I wake up in the morning, though, I’m greeted by a surprise. There’s fresh meat spitted over a new fire, and the man tending to both is utterly flipping gorgeous.
I stare in shock at Rukh, who looks like a changed man. While I slept, he finished his own hair with the comb. No longer wild and bushy around his head, it falls in a smooth waterfall down his back, making the twin crests of his horns that much more outrageous as they arch from his brow. He looks very much like one of Vektal’s tribe, and I’m struck by another sense of deja-vu. But Rukh doesn’t really look like anyone I remember. He’s still got a wild air to him as he squats near the fire, completely naked.
I lick my lips at the sight. Not a bad thing for a girl to wake up to. I stretch in the covers, feeling rather good. Rather…excited about what the future holds.
Because if it’s me and this man in the future? Just the two of us alone against the world?
I’m…kind of down with that. Really, really down with that.
RUKH
Traveling with Har-loh at my side is very different than traveling on my own. I’m slower, of course. I can’t go off and hunt whenever I want. I have to be mindful of the landscape and things that will attack, or places that are dangerous for her fragile ankles.
But…I enjoy it. Every moment awake is a joy. Every night, I pull her against me and let her cuddle her soft body against my bigger one. Every day is full of excitement, and there is someone to share it with.
I cannot imagine going back to my old life without her. Not now. She is everything to me. Little by little, I find myself adjusting to please her. If she shows a preference in meat, I seek it out. I down my kills carefully, knowing she will want to salvage furs, or the bladders for cooking. I carry my bag at all times and make sure that we have enough fuel for a nightly fire.
I always, always make sure she is warm and safe.
After a full day of walking, we eat dinner near our fire and she drags the thing she calls a ‘comb’ through my hair. She likes to brush it and makes soft humming noises in her throat as she touches me. Me? I just crave her presence. Her small face is the last thing I see before I go to sleep, and the first thing I search for when I awaken.
Sometimes it still feels like a dream that she is here with me, and I clutch her to me harder, afraid to wake up. Afraid that I’ll rouse and be utterly alone once more.