But when I get there and peer inside…he is not there, either.

Where is he?

My skin prickles with awareness. This is not right. This is not like Hemalo. He would not be petty. I leave the gathering before anyone can invite me to stay, and race back toward the hunters’ dwelling. When I make it back, I move through the howse, gauging belongings. That pile of messy furs belongs to Harrec, and that one is Taushen’s, judging by the spear nearby. This one is Warrek’s, and this one, Bek. None of the furs belong to Hemalo, who always has the softest, best-made furs in the entire tribe. I do not see the basket that holds his things, either. I do not see his rarely used spear, or the skinning knife that his father gave him.

He is not here.

He is gone. He’s left.

I stare about the howse numbly. He cannot leave, can he? Not when we have resonated? It is a call that must be answered. There is no avoiding it.

And yet…Jo-see and Haeden delayed their resonance by a full turn of the moons because Jo-see ran away. She told one of the other females that it was still bad, but bearable.

Is that what Hemalo has done? He has left me behind? Shock gives way to outrage as I think about what he said to me yesterday. We do not have to decide anything just yet. Of course nothing had to be decided…because he was never planning on staying.

Once again, he has abandoned me.

It hurts. It hurts and it makes me furious all at once. How dare he? How dare he not want me or this kit? How dare he run away instead of facing the problem? Is he trying to teach me a lesson? I snarl at the empty spot where his furs should be and turn on my heel, storming back to my own howse.

Claire is still there, banking the fire. She straightens, surprised to see me. “Back already? What happened?”

“Hemalo is gone,” I bite out. I move to my own furs and begin to roll them up.

“Gone? You mean he left the village?” Her voice is incredulous. “After you guys resonated?”

“It seems so.” Even the thought makes my head fill with fury. When I see him again, I am going to lash him with my tongue for hours.

“But…I don’t understand.” She moves to my side, a question in her eyes. “How can they let him go? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“The weather is easing,” I say, bundling my furs tight before lashing a cord around them. “He must have seen the break in the clouds and decided to take a chance.”

“That idiot!” Claire exclaims.

I nod.

She looks down at my hands and then frowns up at me. “What are you doing?”

I bare my teeth in a half-smile, half-feral-snarl. He thinks to run away from me? No chance. “I am going after him.”

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10

HEMALO

Next Day

I think of Asha as I stroke my cock, my hand braced on a nearby rock for support.

It is probably not wise to stand in the midst of a valley in the brutal season, my leggings down around my ankles, my cock as stiff as a spear in my hand, but resonance will not allow me to continue walking unless I sate the urge to mate. So I continue, working my hand up and down the length roughly. I close my eyes, imagining her sultry eyes and the throaty way she laughs as I enter her. I imagine her wet heat clenching tight around my length—

—And my seed spurts into the snow, so hot that it hisses and steams as it hits. I kick a bit of new snow over the evidence of my need, noting that it has changed to a thick, milky substance instead of the thin liquid I normally ejaculate. It is yet another sign that resonance has its grip tight on my body.

How in all of the snows did Haeden and his mate manage to avoid mating for nearly a full moon? It has been almost two days and I feel as if all the blood in my body—and all the sensation—has flooded to my cock and lodged there permanently. Everything bothers me—the brush of leather against my skin, the feel of the wind rustling against my tail, the hard surface of the rock under my hand—it all makes my cock stir and respond as if it has a life of its own. It is miserable.

Sometimes I think I should turn back to the vee-lage and speak to Asha, but I cannot. I do not want to torture her. Until she has time to adjust to our newest resonance, I must stay away from her.

I miss her, though. I miss her like I would miss my own tail. Her absence is an ache behind my heart…and a constant ache in my groin. But it is for her that I do this. I do not want her to feel pressured. I do not want her to feel as if I am forcing her into a decision, or that I do not respect the grief she still carries for our little Hashala. So away I go.

I adjust my clothing and then pick up my spear again, using it as a walking stick. Though I do not hunt as much as the others, I am capable of taking care of myself out on the trails. I am not much with my spear, but I am good with snares and traps, and I can catch my own food for a time and work the skins. My chief was not pleased with my decision to leave, but he understood why. He knows as well as I do that Asha is sensitive and her grief for our lost kit has been overwhelming. He worries over her, too. Vektal’s mate, Shorshie, gave me a bag of dried meat for my journey and will deliver the rest of my ‘secret presents’ to Maylak so the healer is not left wanting simply because I am not there to play the game.

The weather is awful, the skies clearing just enough that snow does not pound my face constantly as I walk. It lies thick on the ground, though, at waist height in some areas. It makes walking slow and any travel cold and unpleasant. The nearest hunter cave is a day or so away at the pace I am making, but I am in no hurry. I will set up camp there, work on refilling the nearest cache, and skin for hour after endless hour to waste the time. When I can stand it no longer, then I will return.

Hopefully by then, Asha will realize that our second resonance is a gift and not something to be frightened of. Then she will accept me with open arms and a smile, and we will try again.

I walk onward, trying to turn my thoughts away from Asha. I think of the cold snow caking onto my boots, and the fact that I will have a long, chilly night ahead. I must either build a big fire to keep the breath from turning to ice in my lungs, or keep moving through the night so I do not freeze into an icicle. I should concentrate on that and the deadly cold. Instead, I am thinking about Asha. Does she think about me? About the kit we might make together?

Or are her thoughts more…passionate in nature? I envision her in her furs, her fingers sliding back and forth over her slick, dusky-blue folds. They will be wet with arousal, the scent of her perfuming the air. She will have the tip of her tail in her mouth, unable to resist the additional pleasure that a tiny bite on the end will give her.

I stop and shudder. A groan escapes me, and my cock is already hard and aching once more.

Think of something else, I command myself. Anything.

I think of leather and leatherworking. I think of Asha lying on the skins I am working on, pouting and begging me to put my mouth on her cunt even as she spreads her long legs for me.

That…is not working. I try to think of hunting instead. Animals. Dvisti. Snowcats. Setting snares.

Instead, I think of Asha and the way she lets her tail lash around my arm when I put my mouth on her cunt and lick her.

Curse the weather. I grit my teeth and grab at the waistband of my leggings again, untying the knot so I can pull my cock out and stroke it once more.

Perhaps it is because I am so focused on Asha that I do not hear the footsteps behind me until it is too late. Something hard hits my head, and then I see a flash of dirty white fur before I hit the ground.