So I caress her neck and tilt her head back, and then I press my mouth to hers and claim her tongue with mine.
Georgie gives a soft, moaned sigh and licks me back. I enjoy the human custom of mouth-joining and caressing my mate with my tongue. It’s not something I’ve considered before, but now that I’ve done it with Georgie, it seems so obvious. I love tasting all of her. Why not her mouth? My hand pushes between her legs, but she is wearing her strange leathers. I find the waistband of her leggings and push my hand into them, seeking her sweet warmth.
She moans against me, and her hand presses to my arm. “Vektal.”
I love it when she says my name. I growl my pleasure, and my khui hums a response. I push my fingers into her soft folds, seeking that strange third nipple. I find it, and she immediately gasps and presses her face against my arm.
“Eyethnkthyr dewinnit,” whispers a voice on the other side of the room.
“Dunlook,” says another. “Gohbcktewsleep.”
“Eyebeteez gotta monstrdick!”
This time, Georgie buries her face against my chest, and I feel her push my hand away. “No,” she murmurs against my chest.
No? When my khui is throbbing almost painfully in my breast with its need to have us mate? I’m shocked. Is it because the others are awake and possibly listening? Why does that matter? I have seen and heard other sa-khui mate many times. We are not shy people. It seems the humans are not the same, though. Georgie doesn’t want me to touch her while the others are paying attention.
I growl again, but I remove my hand.
She makes a downcast little sound and presses her body closer to mine.
And that little disappointed sigh is the only reason I don’t get up and toss the other humans out of the cave.
? ? ?
The next morning, I stoke the fire for the humans and we begin to make plans. The humans don’t want to stay here. It’s clear they’re nervous and want to leave. I can’t have them stay here, either, but I’m not equipped to take them to safety. The walk to my home caves is at least a day of hard travel, and these fragile humans won’t be able to handle that.
After they eat, they look at me with hopeful eyes, as if I will somehow produce clothing and boots for all of the women. I know what they are asking with their sad faces. It grieves me to disappoint my Georgie, but a hunter alone must be practical. “I cannot take you with me,” I tell the one with the magic shell in her ear.
“Sezzee kantakus.”
One begins to sniffle loudly. The loud one—Lihz—glares at me as if I am the problem.
I point at my shoes. “You have no foot coverings. No clothing. With six of you, I cannot possibly hunt enough game and keep you moving. My home caverns are many hours walk away. With Georgie, it will take me two days to go there. I will get my people, and we will come and bring you warm clothes and travel rations. Then we will take you home with us. You will be safe there.”
Her brows draw down, and then she translates.
“Eez got ppl?” Georgie asks then smacks her forehead. “Uf kors eeduz.” She looks at me. “Yew haf ppl?” She points at the others, then at herself. “Human ppl. Vektal ppl?”
Ah. “Do I have a tribe? Yes. There are four eights of us, plus two kits. I am the chief.”
The one translates, and Georgie nods again. “Shlda known. Eez bosseh.”
Lihz snickers.
“Weeve gotwelv,” Georgie says and counts on her fingers before pointing at the wall behind her. “Siks indeyr.” She does counting words at each woman, then points at the wall and does more counting words.
I shake my head. “I do not understand.”
Georgie throws her hands up. “Nvvrmnd. Fun surprz forlaytr.”
“Ha,” says Lihz.
They all start to chatter, and one gestures at the wall. I frown at them. I don’t understand their fascination with the back wall with its flashing lights, and our one-sided conversation is not getting us anywhere. “I will return to my people with Georgie, and we will get her a khui. Then I will bring back my hunters, and we will return for all of you. This I promise.”
“Dohn fergetdeez,” Lihz says and taps a bump on her arm.
“Eyewohnt,” Georgie tells her. A determined look comes across my mate’s face, and I wonder what they refer to that brings such a grim look to her delicate features.
? ? ?
At Georgie’s insistence, we leave all the winter furs and two of my blades with the women. We also leave all the food. This makes me unhappy because my mate will be the one that suffers, but she promises with soft pats and smiling eyes that she is fine. I think it pleases her to be able to provide for her humans, so I don’t complain. There are other hunter caves along the paths, and I will raid all of them to clothe my Georgie if I must. They can be replenished in the spring, when the thickest snows melt and the hunters have easier days.