Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Well, that is all solved,” A’tar says loudly, clapping his hands together. “Now let us partake of this fruit feast you greedy ones have prepared.”
“What fruit feast?” Leezh calls out. “Are you high? Were you chewing leaves?”
I hope there is a feast of some kind to distract me from T’ia’s heartbroken gaze.
Chapter
Nine
I’REC
“Does this feel uncomfortable to anyone else? Because it feels awfully uncomfortable to me,” Leezh complains. “Does everyone have to stop and stare? Resonance happens all the time, guys. It’s not like they’re going at it on the beach. Let’s break it up, shall we?”
Normally I find Leezh, the mate of R’hosh, annoying and loud. Today, though, I am glad for her loudness. I am glad for her interfering as I feel the eyes of the tribe focused on us, hot and intrusive. I believe there should be no secrets kept amongst a clan or a village, but right now it feels very uncomfortable to have everyone fascinated with the pain on T’ia’s face and the discomfort on mine. I turn as Leezh shoos curious tribemates away, but I do not see F’lor. She has vanished again, right after seeing me with T’ia.
I need to find her.
I turn on my heel, only to see S’teph step in front of me. “I’rec,” she says in that calm, knowing voice, and puts a hand up. “I know you’re feeling frustrated and trapped by this confrontation, but I feel that you and Tia need to sit somewhere quietly and talk this out before things fester.”
Frowning, I gesture at the shore. “But my mate—”
“Your mate?” T’ia wails. “She’s your mate? You sure didn’t wait very fucking long.”
Everyone turns to stare at us again. A’tam snickers nearby, only for B’shit to nudge him with her arm and give him a cross look.
“In private,” S’teph says again, voice tight. “Come to my hut and let’s have you hash things out. Don’t you think you owe each other that much?”
I think it is a good idea, but I want my mate—my F’lor there as well, because she is an important part in all of this. “F’lor needs to have this conversation too.”
“I agree,” S’teph says. “But it might be easier if you and Tia talk first. And then the three of you can talk once you and Tia are on the same page.”
I grunt, though I do not know what a page is or why I should step upon it. Everything in me wants to rush after F’lor, but I glance over at T’ia and more tears stream down her face. She suddenly looks very young and sad. I think of F’lor, who is older and wiser, and who does not cry so piteously that she makes me feel like I am the worst thing that has ever happened to her. F’lor does not react like T’ia. She would not make me feel guilty like this. Perhaps S’teph is right. Perhaps it is best to talk to T’ia first.
If nothing else, so she will stop her incessant weeping.
“Fine. Let us go.” I gesture at the cluster of huts, my gaze sweeping the beach just in case F’lor has returned. There is no sign of her, though.
No doubt she has raced off to have R’jaal comfort her. Something hot and angry boils through me at the thought of him holding her close, and I lurch in the sand, staggering forward.
S’teph catches my arm. “Don’t run off, I’rec. You really do need to talk to Tia. This isn’t fair to her.”
I rake a hand through my mane, tugging it free from the knot atop my head—a knot that F’lor put there. For some reason that makes me feel worse. I want it back. I want the knot back, and I want F’lor here at my side, smiling up at me. All of this feels wrong. I growl low in my throat, my khui’s song rippling through my chest.
“Juth, love,” S’teph calls in that mild voice of hers. “Will you go ask Flor to join us? I think that would make I’rec feel better.”
Juth nods, shifting their kit on his hip and heading down the beach after my mate. His stumpy tail flicks with calm motions, and I wish I was as relaxed as he was. I should be the one going after her.
Instead I must deal with T’ia and her tears. I bite back a groan of frustration and guilt. Why did A’tar not take a few extra moments and tell T’ia what happened before returning to camp? Even as S’teph steers me and T’ia toward her hut, I glance over at the big golden male. His mate is giving him an unhappy look as well, as if she is displeased as much as we are.
“All I want to know is where the fruit went,” A’tar says again, shrugging. “Do we truly need that big of a feast? It seems silly to snatch all the fruit.”