Hannah's Hero - Ruby Dixon Page 0,5
my cock. It practically erupts from its confines, and I take my aching length in hand, stroking it as I watch H’nah. She stands apart from the other females, a distracted look on her face. Does she think of me, I wonder? Is that why she looks so miserable? I stare at her rounded face and her pretty pink mouth, imagining her lush lips curving up in a smile of welcome.
A shudder moves up my spine and my shaft twitches in my hand. I can feel my sac tightening already, and I imagine what it will be like to push her rounded pink thighs apart. L’ren has fur between her thighs, I remember. Will H’nah have the same? I study her pale brown mane, the color of unripened ground nuts, and imagine such a thing between her legs. Is it as soft-looking as her mane is? Will her cunt be tight as she clasps me against her?
The breath hisses from between my teeth and I spill my seed onto the surface of the rock. It steams and hisses in the chilly air, and I hastily move away, stuffing my cock back into my loincloth. I retreat to another rock and watch my mate, still panting. That was not fulfilling. Nothing is anymore. After all the females in our tribe died save for Z’hren’s mother I’chai, I knew I would never experience the pleasure of a mate. I am no stranger to taking myself in hand and stroking pleasure out. But lately it has not been…enjoyable. There is something missing, and I know that missing thing is my mate. H’nah. I wait for her to accept me.
When she accepts me…I hope that day is soon. I rub my chest, where my khui sings its lonely melody, and drink in her movements. She stares out at the waves, then at one of the brown-skinned females who crouches low on the beach, toying with something. Her expression remains distracted and she looks tired.
So she is not as unaffected as she pretends. For some reason this makes me feel better. Ever since my khui called out to hers, I have not been able to rest. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, I cannot even think straight. All I think about is my female. Never did I hope that I would resonate, and to do so the moment we stepped onto this beach? I thought surely the ancestors were smiling upon me.
But H’nah ignores me. And with every day that passes, she continues to ignore me, and my hope dies in my chest every time she turns away.
Perhaps this is my punishment for not being a strong enough hunter to save N’dek. I am to wither away with want of my mate until I die of loneliness, surrounded by the remnants of my clan. I watch H’nah for a moment more, desperately wanting her, imploring her to turn and look at me. To see me through my camouflage and to smile in my direction. But she stares out at the waves and I sigh.
L’ren was not so difficult to K’thar. Am I doing something wrong, I wonder? And because I cannot think of anything—or anyone—but H’nah, I flick my long braid over my shoulder and jog back to camp in search of K’thar, determined not to look back at H’nah…because she will not be looking for me anyhow.
K’thar sits by his fire, a fur cloak tossed over his shoulders as he feeds bits of kah to his flyer, Fat One. Fat One screeches and flaps his bad wing at the sight of me but does not come to my shoulder. Instead, he burrows into the crook of K’thar’s arm and puts his nose out, waiting for more treats.
To my surprise, the dark-skinned flyer is wearing a fluffy furred vest over his chest. “Did you make leathers for your pet? He looks ridiculous.”
The flyer reaches for a chunk of kah with his tiny claws, bringing it to his mouth and nibbling on it. “Not only are they leathers,” K’thar tells me, “but L’ren stuffed them with extra layers to keep him warm. His wraps are warmer than mine.” And he crooks a smile in my direction.
“He is a flyer,” I point out.
“He has no fur. He is cold here,” K’thar says easily. Everything is easy for him now, with his pretty L’ren at his side. He has a mate and a full belly after turns and turns of starving on our island. Of course he is