12

Serik

Could this be my life? Lounging in my front room bed, I gaze at my new doorway. Kaitlyn squealed in delight when she passed through without the rocks scratching her clothes. Clever Kiril and Strong Sergei built a system of levers no animal could figure out. My family will be safe. My mate is happy. I secured a spot amongst the males of my age. They see me as an equal because of Kaitlyn's choosing me.

The females accepted her easily, too. My chernyrozd found her place in the clan during a single day. I couldn't be prouder. Since her visit to Sergei's, Manya brought over a sewn fur to cover her breasts, which she called a "cute top." Patricika brought Gustav for a ‘girl talk sesh.' Whatever that is. They shoo me away and talk in hushed tones—a miraculous feat for my loud chernyrozd. When Sydney visited to teach Kaitlyn how to blanch and dry nettle leaves, she gave Kaitlyn a pair of ‘leggings' that no longer fit over her pregnant belly. I've never seen my mate so pleased with a gift.

All the females ask Kaitlyn about mushrooms. My brilliant mate is an expert on fungus which the Chuchunya usually avoid. Sometimes the fungus causes illness, and sometimes they are deadly. With a dwindling membership, Timor forbids anything that could endanger us. But Kaitlyn's knowledge provides an additional food source, new flavors, and possibly new medicine. She hasn't told us medicinal uses yet, but there must be something she could find on a star finder box. The star finder box she calls a phone is a sore spot between us. How was I to know her phone was in her vehicle when I destroyed it?

I should be grateful that Patricika allows Kaitlyn to use Adam's phone during their ‘girl talk sesh,' but I'm not.

I'm a suspicious Svoloch. Even when my parents were alive, I wasn't this connected to the clan. I don't trust the warm feeling of happiness growing in my heart. Something isn't right—probably Kaitlyn and I sleeping in different rooms. My side of our dushevnayasvyaz bond cries for her, but I don't trust myself around her. She doesn't want young. Is that why she avoids my touch? We haven't kissed since our visit to Sergei's and I'm starting to suspect her gesture was for show.

"Morning," my beautiful mate calls to me from my room. I rush to join her in bed, but she's up before I arrive.

She stretches her arms over her head and rises onto her toes. I'm treated to an unrestricted view of her curves as she cracks her lower back. Her hair hangs over her pajamas in tangles and waves. I gather my furs into a ball on my lap, so she doesn't notice how my body hungers for hers. Having her so close yet untouchable is a new torture I never thought I'd endure.

"Morning, my chernyrozd. Did you sleep well?"

"Like the dead," she says with a yawn. My heart skips a beat. "Oh no, Serik, it's a human phrase. It means I didn't dream or wake up during the night. I fell asleep easily and slept deeply until morning."

"You scared me for a minute," I say, pressing my hand over my chest. Yeah, my heart's beating faster than a hummingbird's wings. "I'll start the fire and snow melting for tea while you bathe. Will you be okay walking to the surface alone?"

"Yes," she replies, crossing in front of me. "Thanks to the new doorway."

I indulge myself by waiting until she's in the bathing chamber to move. The bunch and stretch of her thin pants suggest the treasures they hold. Each rock of her hips teases me. With a mate whose backside is round as an apple, how am I supposed to resist the urge to take a bite? Her hands and arms are smooth like an apple too. Would she be softer beneath her protective clothing?

A groan slips through my lips as I lay back on my furs and fist myself. The bed holds her scent and lingering warmth. Two pumps of my shaft and I spend like a juvenile. Dammit, I can't let her see I spilled my seed alone!

Jumping up as if my bed's on fire, I race to the surface. I must have myself washed and my sleeping furs boiling by the time she joins me. My damn fire pit is soaked. Why did I pile the snow to the side? As it melts, the water runs over the spent logs. My home is in an open field, so I can't keep a log pile or tripod up all niibin season. The gentle slope of the landscape conceals my outer door. Otherwise, I'm hidden in plain view. I must be more careful than most Chuchunya with homes on the northern tip of the central groups where there are few humans.

"Svoloch sticks! Everything's soaked!" I ignore my chores to focus on Kaitlyn. A family can die from ignoring chores in this harsh landscape. Perhaps I spend too much time with daydreamer Artyom. He lives a heartbeat from disaster. I pull a couple of hunting spears off my hallway wall and cut off the stone points. Splinters fly as I break them over my knee. I have half a second to admire the blaze before realizing I'll have to make new spears before I can hunt again. "Why is every choice I make so stupid?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" Patricika calls. Adam walks beside her with their kit strapped to his chest and a walking stick in his hand. "I have some thoughts…"

My soiled fur is on the bottom of my laundry pot, but I hastily cover it with snow. The thin, burning sticks collapse as I throw the heavy basin onto the small fire. Sparks fly and embers jump. My clan approaches with our leader, Timor, in the front. His mate is on his right and Kiril is on the left. If the other males see my mis-spilled seed, I'll never hear the end of it.

"Glad to see you up and providing for your female. Good morning, Serik," Sergei bellows. He carries Sydney on his shoulders. Artyom carries Vera on his back and a large pack in his arms. Between the happy couples, trudge Timor's sour daughters, Sveta, and Tatiana.

"Were you expecting guests?" Kaitlyn appears behind me.

She wears the ‘cute fur top' and leggings. They are more form-fitting than her pajamas and stir my desires anew. With my last spend floating in the laundry bucket, I'm confident my cock won't embarrass me this morning. Not even the feathering of her ponytail over my bicep or the clasp of her arms around my waist can threaten my cool demeanor.

"Timor doesn't call on clan members unless there's a problem. The entire clan approaching means an intervention or crisis," I whisper, patting her hands. Her arms tighten. Does she know why Timor is visiting our home, or am I paranoid? Does Timor know I stole her and held her without consent? Will he take Kaitlyn away from me?

"We brought more mushrooms for Kaitlyn to identify," Vera says as she dismounts from Artyom's grasp.

"Your fire is too small," Artyom mumbles, pointing to my hasty pile of burning spears. You think so, Artyom? When was the last time you built a fire instead of ‘borrowing' Sergei's fire? "I will gather more wood. We can strip the bark."

I resist the urge to make a rude gesture when he turns toward the forest. The song of my chernyrozd extinguishes my seething anger. She names the fungus pieces as Vera pulls them from the bag. I'm impressed she names them without hesitation. My chest puffs with pride as Timor observes my mate's cleverness.

"Serik, do you have more pots to boil more snow? We will need a few kiloliters to make tea for everyone." Polina, Timor's wife, takes charge of my breakfast when Kaitlyn doesn't suggest it. My fiery mate crinkles her nose and squints her eyes in annoyance when I duck into our doorway to retrieve my other laundry pot and a stack of small bowls for tea. We will use every bowl I've made, so I hope Polina doesn't suggest Akutaq to feed everyone.

"We brought Sarsaparilla tea and hazelnut brittle," Sydney says, raising a bag over her head. Of course she did. Not only does Sergei keep the most supplies in his impeccable pantry, but he's also known for his addiction to Sarsaparilla tea. Sydney says it's a chemical called caffeine which holds her prisoner too.

"Thank you so much," Kaitlyn says with a beaming smile. "I love sweets."

"This isn't a party," Timor snaps in Sydney's direction. Sergei freezes in lowering her to the ground, glaring at our aged leader. Interesting. What happened on the northern ground to shake Timor's power? He's been our leader since our parents died and we were orphaned kits and juveniles.

"The narwhals migrated to our northern grounds early," Timor continues in a much gentler tone. We settle in a circle to listen and pass the bag of brittle around. A fire lights in my belly when Kaitlyn sits between my outstretched legs like Sydney sits with Sergei. "The thinner ice and lessening snowstorms must have fooled the animals. If we don't act soon, we will miss our chance to hunt them. I can't be certain if the beluga whales will migrate early too."

"Without the blubber, we won't have akutaq for breakfast, fat for soap and candles, meat, and skin. We use every part of the animal," Patricika explains—probably for Kaitlyn's benefit. My mate must have made a face, but she faces away from me. Her big heart weeps for animals. She's sweet to her center…with a rotten mate.

"We must do something before a cold snap freezes the poor animals in the bay," Vera pleads as she settles onto Artyom's lap. He throws proper-sized branches onto my fire. It blazes higher than I'm usually comfortable building.

"With human activity resulting in climate change, it's no wonder they migrated early. The ocean's temperatures have risen to dangerous levels. I can take a look at the Conservation Center's data logs. They put trackers on the beluga whales and use radar to map their migration. I can tell you when they will arrive, so we have a plan," Sydney says, waving a shard of brittle. She takes a bite before saying to Kaitlyn, "I was a climatologist for OSU before joining the clan."

"I thought I recognized you. I attended one of your rallies," Kaitlyn replies in a voice of awe.

"We must send a hunting party north today. We don't have a moment to lose," Timor declares, ignoring Sydney. "Who is hunting with me?"

"I want to go. I've never hunted—" Timor's shaking head cuts off Adam's words.

"Thin ice and irritated animals are too hazardous for a human. I need strong males I can count on to rescue one another if need be. You stay on the central grounds with your kit," Timor dismisses Adam.

My fangs dig into my bottom lip, so I don't smirk at him. His brow lowers and his lips thin with rage, but I couldn't be happier. He's not claimed Patricika in a mating chase, despite their kit, so we are even. However, with Timor's snub, I'm higher in his regard. Adam looks to Sergei to rescue him.

"I'm going," Sergei rumbles. "Adam, I'm counting on you to keep my mate from finding trouble—"

"I'm preggers and growing bigger by the day. I can't move fast enough to find trouble," Sydney says with a swat to Sergei's chest.

"I'd be honored to guard and provide for our mates and kits—born and unborn," Adam replies with a lowering of his chin.

Gag me.

"I want the adventure," Artyom says. "Ryluk, will you accompany me?"

Did Vera exchange a look with Kaitlyn?

"I went last year. I think I'll sit this hunt out. Catch us one with a giant horn," she answers, patting Artyom on the chest. He bites her fingers, and she giggles sweetly at him.

"Will you be okay if I hunt for us? I won't tell you how I use the blubber, but you have eaten it before—"

"Stop, stop," Kaitlyn says, twisting to face me. Our faces are close enough to rub my nose on hers. Yes! She didn't flinch! "You're right, I don't want to know. You shouldn't miss out on the fun with the guys or go without narwhal…products…because of me. I know how much you value soap."

"Perhaps we can make soap together when I return," I whisper. The weight of everyone staring at me falls on my shoulders as a strange expression passes over Kaitlyn's features. Does she not want to learn from me? I thought she liked the scented soaps…maybe we could try another scent.

"Making soap sounds like fun," she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. My Svoloch suspicious nature rises to the surface. What does she hide? Do I trust her to wait for me to return?

"It will be a girl party!" Vera exclaims. Sydney claps her hands while Patricika snickers.

"Then I'll join you too, Timor," I declare with more confidence than I hold in my heart.

Kaitlyn squeezes my hand and laces my fingers through hers in solidarity. My guts knot with a sense of foreboding. When our hands let go, will we separate forever? I can't let my suspicious nature get the best of my relationship. Kaitlyn isn't a double-crossing Svoloch like me. I saw the stirrings of dushevnayasvyaz within her when I gave her the crocus. She would never disappear without saying goodbye.

Her heart is too sensitive to hurt mine. I must trust her. Dushevnayasvyaz is never wrong.