He lay back and clasped her by the hips. He lowered her slowly, till his cock filled her completely.
His hands rested on her thighs, his fingers stroking in rhythm as he rocked beneath her, his glowing eyes blue fire as he watched her. Suddenly her climax hit and his fingers tightened reflexively as he pulsed inside her.
She collapsed atop him, too spent for the moment even to roll off.
His arms encircled her, holding her. “There will never be another but you, my mate, my sweet Summer . . .”
Summer stirred and reached out, only to find the place beside her on the pallet empty.
She blinked, rubbing at her eyes. From the light filtering through the shelter she knew it was very early morning but she didn’t hear Ke’lar moving about outside.
It was very quiet.
Too quiet.
Her heart in her throat and trying to make as little noise as possible, Summer reached for her clothes and dressed swiftly. She hesitated for a moment, listening, at the shelter’s exit, then pushed it open and stepped outside.
The suns had not yet risen over the Zun Mountains; the air was cool and fog swirled through the valley, blanketing everything in an otherworldly mist.
She was alone.
Her glance darted about the field, the mist-shrouded trees, but there was no sign of him.
“Ke’lar?” she whispered.
Summer wrapped her arms around herself at the answering silence.
Would he do that? Would he just go off and leave her in the middle of nowhere?
Like hell he would. Something’s wrong.
Not that it was much protection, really, but it was hard to take even those few tentative steps away from the shelter.
Summer raised her voice. “Ke’lar?”
She heard it then, male, g’hir for certain, off to her right in the same direction as the stream—a groan of one in great pain . . .
“Ke’lar!”
She ran that way, trying to watch her footing, cursing herself for leaving the blaster back at the shelter, considering and discarding the idea of going back for it.
He was slumped over but she couldn’t see him clearly. There was a shape there in the fog but like nothing familiar at all.
A few more stumbling steps and the sight came clear.
“Oh, no. Ke’lar—”
He was kneeling at the multari’s side, his hand gently stroking her nose. Beya’s long neck was stretched out along the ground, her legs tucked under her where she lay, her face peaceful, her glowing eyes closed forever . . .
G’hir couldn’t cry but the grief etched into his face showed he felt loss as deeply as any human. Summer knelt beside him on the cold, damp ground. She wrapped her arms around him and trembling, Ke’lar clung to her. A wail sound rose in his throat till it echoed through the small grove.
“I’m sorry.” Summer rocked him as he keened for Beya. Any thought of how this might delay them, how badly they needed the multari to reach the clanhall, vanished in the face of his pain. “I’m so sorry . . .”
She stayed there with him, holding him against her, and he clung to her. In time his keen quieted but he did not let her go.
“I do not remember her. My mother,” he murmured finally, his eyes on the multari who had been his companion for so many years. “I ought to, I was five summers when she died; old enough to have some memory of her but I have none. They say it was the trauma, that when the Scourge tore through our enclosure my mind blocked the horror of it. But I do not remember much before that time either. It is as if I were born into a world already broken, with no recall of a time when my kind was not a dying race. . . .”
“I’m sorry.” Summer stroked his silky hair, wishing she could say more, wishing she had some great comfort to offer.
“No child so young should be without her mother,” he said hoarsely. “We cannot let your child know such terrible grief. We cannot leave her unprotected. You are right, my Summer. No matter what the cost, you must return to your world.”
Fourteen
Ke’lar shouldered most of the supplies on their trek to the clanhall, although he allowed her to carry some small portion of them. Summer waited respectfully as Ke’lar returned the animal who had been his companion and comfort for so long to the g’hir’s All Mother.
His face was ragged with grief but he sent her a grateful look when Summer took his hand.
“We will be there by the evening meal,” he promised, with a glance at the suns.
“Only because I walk so freaking slow.” She raised her eyebrows. “We could just leave everything here and you could carry me on your back.”
He shook his head. “This foresting has been one full of surprises and—difficulties. It is a few hours’ walk to the clanhall but I will not leave our supplies here, and risk finding shelter and food—should we need them—to chance. Carrying you and the supplies both will tire me. I may need to protect you and I will not gamble with your safety.”