21

Serik

"I love it! I love it!" My mate glows with happiness as I place the last of her mushrooms on their new shelves. "Thank you!"

She wraps her arms around my neck and tugs me so she can kiss my lips. As her tongue lashes the inside of my bottom lip, I sigh with contentment. Initiated physical touch without my asking—or begging—is something I never thought I would experience. The purpose of pleasure mating is to receive physical touch, but it never worked out for me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my dushevnayasvyaz would kiss me senselessly for decorating our home with mushrooms.

I'm the luckiest male alive.

"I will see how much you love them as you keep them alive," I reply, lifting her by her thighs to wrap them around my waist. "The clan buzzes with excitement over new dishes with our mushrooms. You can name your price."

"I've always wanted to own a business," she says with hope shining in her eyes. "My jobs always managed money for big businesses…I never dreamed I'd have my own."

"Will you need your large star finder box with its millions of squares?" I ask, rubbing my nose against hers. I love the scratch of the gem she wears.

"My spreadsheets? Not at first…well, maybe if the clan goes crazy for them. I don't think there will be demand until winter—I mean, zima season. They are for warm, hearty dishes…" Her words come faster and faster as she gets excited about her mushrooms. The troubles brewing in my mind drown them out. "Serik, babe, where did you go? What troubles you?"

"Oh, my sweet chernyrozd, I love how happy these plants make you—"

"Fungus," she says with a nod. "Plants require sunlight. These babies will flourish underground."

Yes, her spreadsheets and fungus are her special interest—not weapons like Patricika or hides to tan like Manya. As soon as I saw the number of mushroom planters my mate wished to affix to my walls, I knew how to please her. I made a grid of four shelves high with ten shelves on the top and bottom row with eleven shelves on the middle rows. The two extra spaces are for tool storage. It is a life-sized spreadsheet of planters in perfectly level rows and columns.

"I worry about how we will keep them alive. They make you so happy. Keeping them alive here will be easy for you, but what about during the migrations? Your cat can drive us to the northern grounds and back if we use gasoline, but will storing gasoline catch fire? I have nowhere to store your cat in my southern home. My front door is a hole and outside is within view of human homesteads. A vehicle parked in the middle of a grassland will arouse suspicions."

"Oh Serik, you sound like a father. It's very hot," she says with a giggle. "Since they mean so much to us, we will work harder to keep them alive. Also, I can re-propagate our crops with cuttings we find in the forest all niibin season."

She lays her head on my shoulder as I carry her across the room. I love her little fingers brushing my collarbone, tangling in my fur. Her gasp when I swing her around to loop her legs over my arm is adorable. As if I would ever drop her. My precious mate is safe in my arms, even if she doubts my ability to carry her with one arm. I puff with pride. Puny human males couldn't handle her size, but I'm made for her. Only I am strong enough for my chernyrozd and her fungal babies.

"This worry is what a father feels? Why would any male want this?"

"My brother's calls are 99% worries and 1% listening to me, and he's a father to many kits. So yes, worrying is the cornerstone to fatherhood, along with bad jokes—"

"Then Artyom is ready for fatherhood," I say with a chuckle. "He says he has the jokes, but they aren't funny."

"And grilling everything, wearing cargo shorts, tucking socks into sandals, and showing you love your family by worrying about them. You put their health, safety, well-being, happiness, and wishes before your own. I'm sorry—"

"I don't want any of that," I confess to the wall of mushrooms. A weight lifts off my shoulders. My wise mate—and her IUD—releases me from the responsibility of fatherhood. "All my life, especially since before my parents died, I was told my purpose was to father kits. Those same mouths called me a Selfish Svoloch. How can a Selfish Svoloch be those things without losing himself?"

"I know you would find your way to be the father your kits need. Besides the sticky cheeked kisses, handprint art, and tiny hugs are supposed to make up for the trouble," she says with fake indifference. Her black eyebrows furrow to flash her golden hoop at me. She squirms with the uncomfortable turn to our conversation. "You'd be a great Dad."

"I don't think I would, but honestly, I don't care. None of the perks sound all that great either. Let the others bring kits into the world while we feed them mushrooms." I gesture to our wall of fungus. The pink, yellow, blue, grey, and brown layers bring color and life to the drab rock walls.

"Our mushrooms will be our babies?"

I pour my relief into my kiss as I claim my mate's pouting mouth. Kaitlyn's child-free lifestyle is exactly what I want. We will worry about keeping our colorful fungus alive without the stress of them running onto the Tundra.

"Our mushrooms are our kits," I whisper against her mouth. My hands wander along her appetizing curves while my teeth itch to bite.

She kisses me harder, banging our teeth together. Her hips shift to pin my hardening cock against my thigh. I pant through my nose as she rolls to straddle me on the bed in my front room—which she calls our couch. Memories of us sleeping apart are replaced with kissing sessions as the bed is reborn. I thrust my hips upward and growl at the layers of fabric separating us. Why my mate wears clothes in our home under the permafrost, I'll never understand.

"Oh, Serik—" A banging at our door to the surface silences her whine. She freezes with large, round eyes. I stroke her back with long, slow passes to calm her. She doesn't need to fear what's outside when her mate would stand between her and the fiercest beast.

The banging continues. A polar bear's claws or the trampling of reindeer hooves as the herd passes overhead would sound in regular beats. This noise is slaps, combined with pounding at odd intervals. With a kiss on her forehead, I slide my mate from my lap.

"No, Serik, what if it's wolves?" She claws at my shoulders and presses her leg to my hip to stop my momentum.

"Wolves aren't as loud." I dislodge her hands with a self-satisfied smirk pulling my lips. My mate cares for me. She worries wolves will rip apart me. I've won her and there's nowhere she'd rather be than in my care.

I slide through the crevice dividing my front room and the hallway to the surface. My spine stands a little taller as I secure the extra locking mechanism. If Kaitlyn hadn't convinced me to widen the door and install a lock, I would have to depend on the outer door for protection. The second lock makes sense…as does an internal door that doesn't require climbing up before stepping in.

"Serik, Serik, open up! Your clan needs you!" Artyom's frantic cries bleed through the mud-covered wooden matrix.

"Kaitlyn, it's Artyom," I call to placate my mate before I disarm the levers of my door. "Welcome, my friend. Come and see our fungus."

"There's no time," Artyom says, stepping through the opening. "We need you and Kaitlyn at Sergei's dyla weturanya."

"Is it Sydney? Is she okay? What about her baby?" Kaitlyn asks from behind me. She hugs my waist as she nods at Artyom in greeting. My arm squeezes her against me to demonstrate we are a unit. A couple. Dushevnayasvyaz.

"Sydney is healthy, but very angry."

Kaitlyn waves her hand in a motion I recognize as ‘say more' or ‘hurry up' in human gestures. Whoever sent the most soft-spoken Chuchunya as the messenger is an idiot.

"Timor and Sergei argue about the fate of humans on the northern grounds. This upsets Sydney and my Ryluk. The clan must vote on what to do."

"Vera wants us to vote in the best interests of humans," Kaitlyn fills in when our lackluster messenger runs out of words. "Serik, we must go. I'll grab my boots and coat."

I have a million questions, but recognize pulling the answers from Artyom's lips may damage our friendship. He's twenty meters away by the time I've locked the outer lock to my home. What's wrong with the humans traveling onto the northern grounds? How does Timor know what's going on hundreds of kilometers away? Why does a group of humans call for a clan vote? Siding with the humans will please my mate, but what will that do to my new acceptance to the clan?

"You don't have to vote the same as me," Kaitlyn whispers, snuggling against my side. "I won't be mad if you side with your leader, just like I hope you won't be mad if I side with Sydney and Vera."

"I'm not the type of mate to force you to think as I do."

"Just letting you know I'm not either," she says with a pat of her gloved hand over my heart.

There's no snow on the central grounds, but the wind is cold. The hazelnut trees blossomed too early. They will burn from the trees overnight. My mate is sympathetic to humans, but maybe protecting the trees would be a better use of our time. Hazelnuts provide savory paste when hunting is too scarce, an oil for bathing products, sweets when the fruit season ends, and—Wait, Kaitlyn's mushrooms do all these things! Reishi and cauliflower mushrooms make bathing products. Any of them can be made into meat substitutes or savory pastes.

"What's the smug smile for?" My beautiful mate asks as we approach Sergei's home.

"The frost on the hazelnut blossoms would be a crisis without you in the clan," I say, kissing the top of her head. "Fungus can do everything that the clan depends on hazelnuts to do."

"Damn skippy." I'm confused by this phrase until she pats my chest. I love this little stim she does when she agrees with me. It's a gesture of connection, like she thanks our dushevnayasvyaz for matching us.

Artyom allows us to enter Sergei's home first and travel down the stairs while he locks the lever matrix. I'm torn between guiding my mate down to safety and gazing at the sway of her curves as she descends. My mate's figure is gorgeous. I lean forward to whisper this into her ear and stop. Chuchunya and their mates fill Sergei's front room from wall to wall. Vera, Adam, and Sydney stand at one end. Kiril, Timor, Polina with one daughter, and the younger Chuchunya males stand on the opposite end. Sergei and Patricika stand with a sobbing Manya between them.

"Now that everyone is here," Sergei bellows. "We will vote."

Adrik is absent…but so is Timor's youngest daughter, Sveta.

"Hold on," Polina shouts. She moves to comfort Manya, like her daughters. "The later arrivals don't know the situation. This is more than some stupid tourists traveling where they shouldn't."

"It's Gleb," Manya wails through her tears. She hides her face in Polina's waiting embrace. "We can't leave Gleb alone with them."

"Gleb broke clan law when he let you travel across our three territories alone. We will deal with him," Sergei growls.

"Why isn't she free to travel where she wants?" My mate's eyes blaze with fire. Oh boy, if Timor tells me to control my mate, I'll have both of them beating me up.

"Isn't it Gleb's decision if his mate travels alone?" Artyom asks to soften Kaitlyn's question. She won't like the antiquated laws of the clan, but I can them bend to her will.

Clan law loosens its reins for mates—even pleasure mates—to encourage us to pair up at the chase. Timor, Sergei, and I may not like the way Artyom drags Vera around the zima tundra without shelter in case of a blizzard, but under clan law, it's his call. He would never limit his mate's adventurous spirit because it calls to his own. Just like Patricika's dangerous moose hunts aren't anyone's business but Adam's—although I doubt the human male could keep her from hunting if he tried.

"What loving mate would let their other half travel across the entire Chuchunya territory alone is a better question," Adam says. If we must rephrase every question to please everyone, we will be here all day.

"I thought this was an emergency!" I shout. "Kaitlyn and I have mushrooms to cultivate." Patricika's eyebrows raise to her hairline. Yeah, I said ‘cultivate' like my mate said I should when talking about our babies.

Serik isn't dumb anymore.

"The humans brought too many vehicles to the northern grounds when the ice is thinnest. One vehicle has sunk already, but they won't leave. Something about ‘getting the perfect shot' of the migrating narwhals. Then when the belugas moved in, Gleb knew moving them was hopeless," Manya says from the safety of Polina's arms.

"Is Gleb worried about the animals? Polluting the water? Why didn't he leave with you if all hope for the humans is lost?" Sydney fires questions the way she fires arrows—in quick succession, with unerring accuracy.

"He didn't say." Manya cries onto Polina's shoulder with shoulder-shaking sobs.

Kaitlyn shoots me a look over her shoulder as if she knows Gleb said something. I squint my eyes and shake my chin slightly to indicate we must stay out of it. If Manya doesn't want the clan to know what Gleb's problem is, it isn't life-threatening, but embarrassing for either of them. This is their second or third sun cycle as pleasure mates without conceiving a kit, so the clan already suspects a problem.

"We have a group of humans who could bring the world's attention to our fishing grounds. Thankfully, we caught our seals and narwhal before they approached. We won't suffer if we can't fish all niibin, but the problem is bigger than our supplies," Timor says, addressing the clan as our official leader. He struts like he always does, but I can't help but notice how his muscles shrink with age. His fur hangs off his frame. How did he scare me when I was a kit? What stole the strength from our mighty leader?

Probably his spoiled daughters. After my fatherhood talk with Kaitlyn, I can see how those brats would destroy a father.

"Maybe my tribe can intervene," Polina suggests. As Timor's mate and a human of one of the First Nations, she's the perfect intermediate. In my mind, this problem is solved. Let the humans handle the humans.

"The company would need permission and permits to be there. I doubt these are legal tourists," Adam says, bouncing his son with each word. I don't envy him raising Patricika's kit—a hell I never considered when she was my pleasure mate. No thanks. "You can't hide the number of buses and trailers Manya said they brought. The tribes must know these people are a danger and choose to stay away."

"We should stay away, too. Fewer human tours are good for us," Kiril says with a shrug. I can't tell if he's making a point or asking the males in authority.

Wishy-washy, he'd make an awful leader—especially compared to Sergei…but that's up to Sveta who didn't attend her father's clan meeting, or Tatiana who inches toward the door.

As Kaitlyn would say, we're screwed.

"Dead humans will bring search parties which could find us—even on the southern grounds. Next comes the reporters with cameras. They would travel over our heads in helicopters and camp in our forest. They would trap us underground," Vera states, banging her fist on her hand.

"I'm due in November," Sydney says, rubbing her tiny baby bump. "It's only May, but what if they aren't gone by the time we wish to migrate? I can't have my location in jeopardy when I go into labor."

"You will give birth in Sergei's northern home," Patricika swears with a thump of her fist over her heart. The gesture is the solemn promise of the Chuchunya. Laying it on a little thick if you ask me, November is at the other end of the niibin season. Many changes can happen between now and then. Last May, neither female was in dushevnayasvyaz. Now, they make solemn oaths to protect one another's kits.

No wonder Artyom thinks they're too cozy to include Vera.

"We've hidden for longer than a niibin season before," Timor states. "Our northern homes aren't stable this time of year. We migrate to where the land is stable and plentiful…"

The other Chuchunya look to their feet with the implied threat, but I glare at Adrik. The ice wasn't stable when a dyla weturanya collapsed and killed our parents. Adrik had been my brother for two sun cycles when he became my only family.

"Fine," Kaitlyn says with a slam of her hands on her pants. "We go up, save the day, and return to the central grounds. Nobody stays north. We leave no one behind. I mean, the central ones are stable, right?"

"They are stable, but with few resources," Sergei agrees.

"Then we stay one night on the central grounds to recuperate and return here," she says with a shrug. I beam with pride. My clever, outspoken mate voiced a plan at her first clan meeting.

"You can put those teeth away, Serik," Patricika snaps. "We knew she was smart before today. We wonder why she's with you."

The blood drains from my face to my toes. My fury clouds the words forming in my head. I let her go! Why must Patricika pick at me? I forgave her slight and let her choose a human over me without contest. I had every right to shred her mate—before they conceived. I stepped back with dignity and this is how she repays me? I'm—I'm—

I'm seen for my teeth, not the good I can do in the clan.

"Excuse me," Kaitlyn says, stepping out from under my arm. "Could you not make fun of my mate's teeth? It's an old joke from when you were kits, but I thought you grew up. He did. Your history with him proves he matured, but did you?"

"It's Serik," Kiril remarks with a shrug. "He knows his teeth aren't the best. It's no big deal."

"His teeth are a big deal to me," Kaitlyn snaps. "I love them. I love more about him than you can see if you are stuck on his teeth. I love how he's romantic at heart and stepped back so Adam and Patricika could be together. I love how he hunts and forages, so I don't have to—and thoughtful. He brings me extra gifts while providing for me. He's your hunting partner, Kiril. Did you catch all the seals hanging in my home? Uh-huh, can't meet my gaze now? Serik caught them all? Yeah, I thought so. He is brave and strong and I love that about him. I love everything else, too. I'm with him because I love him."

"I'm sorry, Serik. I never thought—" Kiril blubbers.

But Kaitlyn's words ring in my ears.

"I love you, Serik," she says, reaching for me.