Sam's Secret (Icehome)

"Never," she breathes. "You're the only one I trust, on any planet."

Her words make me oddly happy. I hold her tight and think of the heavy pod, shoved in the midst of a tumble of boulders. An idea hits me, and I pat her back comfortingly. "We will keep our secret, then. We tell no one of Kva-saht and it will remain with us. You will stay here and I will take care of the body."

"How will you move it?" she asks, puzzled.

"I will not move it. I will move the stones over it and crumble the cliff from above. The rocks here are loose anyhow. Anyone that sees it will think an avalanche tore through the canyon and they will be glad they were not hunting at the time."

Her eyes widen. "Oh my god, that's clever." Her arms go around my waist and she squeezes me tight. "But I'm going with you. I don't ever want to be apart from you."

My heart fills with joy. "We will take care of this," I promise my mate. "And when we return to this cave, we will fulfill resonance. We will wait for our bruises—and our hearts—to heal, and we will mate and swim in the waters and enjoy ourselves as we should." I press a kiss to the top of her tangled head. "And if we find another pod, we do not open it."

Sam's teary giggles fill the cavern.

27

Ten Days Later

SAM

"They're back!" Raashel cries, racing back to the beach ahead of us. "Everyone, they're back! And they brought fruit!"

I laugh at the bellow that comes out of the girl. For all that Raashel is a gangly pre-teen, she really does have a booming call. "Jesus, she's got Liz's lungs, doesn't she?"

"And her attitude, I hear," Sessah teases as he walks next to me. "Buh-brukh and Taushen say that Raashel is very much Leezh, and Aayla is very much Raahosh. I have not seen them in several seasons, so you will have to tell me if that is a correct assessment."

I think about Liz and Raahosh's three little girls. Raashel turns into her mother a bit more every day, complete with the sass and the loudness. She carries around a bow and insists on lording her skills over the younger boys in the camp. Aayla is quiet, but not in a moody sort of way. She's the quintessential middle child, content to watch everything and drink it in. "Actually I think Ahsoka—the tiny one—is going to be her dad. She's a cranky thing and never satisfied."

Sessah laughs with delight. "That is your impression of Raahosh?"

I grin up at him, loving the big smile that creases his face. Every day he grows more handsome and wonderful to me. I can't believe less than two weeks ago I was running away from this man as if my life depended on it. "What's your impression of Raahosh, then?"

"Quiet. Determined." He thinks for a moment. "Unyielding."

"So nothing like you, then," I tease, thinking of last night when I licked and sucked on his cock until he begged me to let him come inside me…and then I teased him about it until he did the same to me.

His tail flicks at the back of my tunic, as if spanking me. I yelp and jump ahead a step, blushing, as he shoots me a naughty look. For someone that's carrying both of our packs, he manages to make it look effortless. He has a hand on each shoulder, holding the straps, and smirks in my direction.

"No fair on the tail," I tell him, but I'm grinning as I rub my butt.

Sessah lifts his chin into the air, giving me a lofty look. "A good hunter uses every weapon at his disposal."

I turn, walking backward in front of him, and give him a lascivious smile. "Which is exactly what I did last night." And I lick my lips in an obscenely obvious sort of way. "Using all my weapons, that is."

My handsome mate flushes a deep, deep blue at the base of his horns and on his cheeks, and I break off into giggles again, falling in place back at his side. I haven't laughed so much—or been so damn happy—in years. Sessah just makes me happy. It's like the khui knew which person would give me the perfect amount of space and yet be so protective that I'd feel safe no matter what. I love Sessah's sense of humor, and his idealism. I love that he's got the same hopeful, cheerful mood he ever did, and even the whole Kvasaht incident hasn't changed his good, decent nature.

We haven't talked about the dead cat-man much since the mini-avalanche. We've gone out a few times while we were waiting for bruises and scratches to heal, just to check on the melting snows to see if anything was exposed, but there's nothing left there but rock. I'm glad. I hope no one ever discovers him, because I'm not going to tell.