If it is important to Asha, it is important to me. No more needs to be said. I wait for the females to pause, and then I nod slowly. “You have convinced me. What shall I do?”

Claire looks pleased, but her response is nothing compared to the triumphant look of pleasure on Asha’s lovely face. I am entranced by my mate’s response, and my cock—and my khui—both respond to her nearness. I feel my chest thrumming low, a rumble of pleasure at her presence. Her startled gaze meets mine, and then a scowl moves over Asha’s face as I hear her khui quietly respond to mine. She does not like that I can still make her sing. Her pride is still wounded that I walked away from our mating.

Someday she will understand that I did it for her. That I finally understood that my presence was making her miserable, and I left because I could not bear to be yet another thing that caused her pain. Ask me to return, I beg silently. Tell me that you miss me in your furs. That you miss the warmth of our bodies together. Tell me that you miss my smile like I miss yours. All will be forgotten in an instant and we can be back together tonight. Now. In the next moment.

But Asha only lifts her chin, her eyes narrowing at me. She hears my song and she does not like it.

She needs more time. Very well.

“Wonderful,” Claire says, oblivious to the tension simmering between myself and Asha. “We’re going to start the calendar of events on the first bad weather day of the next moon-turn.” She pulls out a skin and unrolls it, then gets out a piece of charcoal. “I’m going to record who you get for your secret gift partner, and you’ll need to make that person a series of small gifts and trinkets to be given out every celebration day. We have eight of them, so you’ll need to make eight gifts.”

I nod in understanding, my gaze locked with Asha’s combative one. “And what if I wish to give someone else a gift?”

“It is not allowed,” Asha replies sharply. “You are to give gifts to your secret partner.”

“Oh, actually, that’s quite fine,” Claire says in a timid voice, and earns a quick frown from Asha. “I mean, the holidays are all about giving and lifting each other up. It’s perfectly fine to give as many gifts as you choose. You just need to make sure that you do the eight small gifts for the secret exchange to be fair to the person you are assigned. Think of it like a game. The eight gifts are part of the rules. Anything you do outside is your own business, of course.”

My mate does not look as if she enjoys being contradicted by mild Claire, but she eventually shrugs. “Give gifts to whoever you want. I care not.”

“Is that so?” I say, deliberately baiting her. No one has ever accused Asha of caring too little. She is a hot flame of emotion, my mate, and burns hottest in an argument. Her scowls please me, though. An irritated Asha is a welcome sight after her sadness for so long. I will take her venom happily.

“Just be careful you do not overburden yourself with your gift-giving, Hemalo,” Claire advises me, making lines on the rolled-up hide with the charcoal. At any other time, I might be interested in what she is doing. Today, with Asha seated in front of me, so fierce and so achingly like her old self that it makes my heart beat fast—and ache with need at the same time—I cannot concentrate on anything but my mate. Claire continues, oblivious. “Can you have him draw and let me know what he picks?”

Asha gives me another defiant look. She pulls out a small pouch she has at her belt and opens it up, then holds it out to me. “Pick one strip and give it to me.”

Interesting. I decide not to prick at her any longer and obediently reach into the pouch. I pull out a small strip of worn leather that has more of the strange charcoal lines on it and hold it out to Asha.

“Here, Claire,” Asha says, giving her the slip. “What does it say?”

Claire looks up and peers at the scrap, then nods. “Maylak is your secret partner.”

I grunt. I have known Maylak ever since she was a small kit, and it is easy to think of things to give her: a new pouch for her favorite tea, hoods and boots for her kits, a new blanket for her to share with her mate, soft leather so she can create a new tunic for herself… “I am pleased.”

“Hmph.” Asha does not look happy. “That is too easy. He should draw a different name. Claire, make him draw again.”

“Oh, but I don’t think…” Claire purses her lips. “Is there a problem with it being Maylak?”

“Yes,” Asha says at the same time that I say “No.”

I am surprised at Asha’s displeasure. “I like Maylak very much,” I say. “I can make her some very lovely gifts.”

Asha just makes a harrumphing noise and crosses her arms. Claire looks uneasy, as if she has stepped into something unpleasant.

“Do not worry,” I cannot help but tease. “I will make you something far more spectacular, Asha.”

“Do not bother,” she says in a tart voice, though I can tell my suggestion has pleased her. “Make your silly gifts for the healer. I need nothing from you.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” I reply. “Are you sure you need nothing?” Her nostrils flare, and she licks her lips, her tongue darting between sharp teeth. My cock aches again. When she doesn’t respond, I continue. “Perhaps I will think of something to give you that you might want.”

“From you? There is nothing.” Her voice is lofty and arrogant, and she unfolds her long legs, getting to her feet in a graceful, fluid motion to rival any hunter’s. “You gave up on me, and I do not care what you do. Come, Claire. Let us go see if Shorshie is busy.”

“Oh, okay.” Claire looks at me and then back at Asha as she sashays out of the hut, her tail flicking with irritation. Mystified, the little human gathers her things, gives me a distracted smile, and then hurries after her friend.

I smile to myself, my leatherwork forgotten as I watch the two females leave. Asha’s barbs were meant to scratch, but I do not mind. She was vibrant today, vibrant and alive and full of the bright spirit I remember. It makes my heart glad. I gaze down at the leather in my lap and then cast it aside. If I will be making gifts for Maylak, I will make even better ones for my Asha. She has long been a rival of the healer, and I need to make her realize there is no reason to be jealous.

There has only ever been one female in my eyes.

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6

CLAIRE

One Week Later

“Welcome home,” I tell my mate as he pushes aside the privacy flap over the doorway and saunters in, shedding layers of clothing as he comes in. I love my Ereven, but he’s a bit of a slob. It’s like there’s too much going on in his head for him to hold it all in, and it pours out in small ways, like the fact that his hair always seems to be slightly tangled, or the piles of clothing he leaves wherever he drops them. I don’t mind it, though—I’m just glad he’s home. It’s been three long days and nights without him. “Storm starting up?”

He pulls me close before I can pluck the clothes off the floor and gives me an enthusiastic kiss. He smells like sweat, and his clothes are damp with ice, but oh, his kiss is distracting. “I missed you, my mate,” he murmurs as he presses a few more kisses to my mouth. “Each night away seems to be longer than the last.”

“Then you will be pleased to hear that Rokan came back to Croatoan a few hours ahead of you and said the weather would be bad for the next two days.”

His eyes light up. “That is good. That means I get to spend time in the furs with my mate.”

I can feel a blush creeping over my cheeks. “You can.”