Steph's Outcast

She bites her lip, and that is enough of an answer for me. I push past her, scooping up my son. I am ashamed. To think I have worked so hard to be a respectable hunter in the eyes of the tribe, and all the while they were laughing at me. And Steff—soft Steff—did not wish to be my mate but did not speak up. She let me go on believing that she wanted me.

But who would want an Outcast? No one. It was a ploy to get me to join their tribe, and I am ashamed at how wounded I feel. I should not care. Outcasts need no one, after all. That is what we are taught from childhood. But…I liked having a mate. I try to imagine waking up without my mate at my side and I feel hollow and empty.

I allowed myself to become attached, and that is my foolish mistake.

"Where are you going?" Steff asks, following behind as I storm down the beach with Pak in my arms. My son is silent, clinging to my neck, and I can feel the tension in his small body. He is upset, but he is falling back upon Outcast rules—do not speak to outsiders.

I decide I shall do the same. From now on, my words shall only be for Pak.

An Outcast only speaks to other Outcasts.

I cannot get hurt that way.

I storm away from the encampment. I do not care where we go, only that we leave. Someplace away from the shore, perhaps. High in the mountains, where I now know how to hunt. I want to shed the furs that they gave me to wear, the boots that protect my feet, to take nothing from them. But if I must be wise about this, I know I will need these things for survival if we are to have no tribe. Pak and I will use them, just as we did before.

Steff heads down the beach after me. "Juth, please, slow down. Wait, so I can explain."

I do not slow down. If anything, I walk faster. I want to get away from her. From her pitying looks and her pitying touches. Of course she never wanted an Outcast male. Steff is a beautiful, perfect female. She could have anyone, and I am a fool for thinking I was lucky to be chosen by her.

"You're not listening to me," she cries out. "Let's be logical about this, all right? You and me—"

Logical? So she is trying to understand me now? Trying to pick apart my thoughts like she does when she watches the others in her tribe? I turn for a moment, glaring at her.

Steff stops short. We gaze at each other for a moment, and her expression is full of misery. Misery because she has hurt me, I decide. Misery because she realizes she is cruel. "I just want you to understand from my perspective," she says softly. "Please don't walk away. Let's talk this through."

Talking. More of her picking apart thoughts so she can say what I wish to hear. There is no claiming of me in her words, no insistence that she is my mate. Instead, her thoughts are full of talk and logic. That is the last thing I want. So I clutch Pak tighter to me and break my own rule, right away. "Do not follow us. We are leaving."

"You're upset," she says patiently, her expression calm. "You need time to think things through. Take the afternoon. Think about our actions and when you're ready to talk, I will be here."

And she smiles at me, as if this makes everything better, when all it does is makes me angrier.

I turn and stride away, my chest hollow and aching. Never have I felt so…alone. Even when I was in the Outcast clan, I never felt like this. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Wounded to my very spirit.

"Papa?" Pak asks in a small voice.

"Not now," I tell him as I walk with quick, angry steps as far away as I can from the others.

"Where are we going?"

"Away from them," I say. "They are not our people. We are Outcast clan. We can depend on no one but ourselves. It will be as it was before."

"Will Steff be coming with us?" Pak asks.

"No." Hot pain courses through me. I try not to think about Steff and her soft smile, Steff and her large, heavy teats and enticing body, Steff and her mouth, and the way she chuckles low as she licks me clean after making me spill. No more Steff, because she did not want us anyhow.

Pak makes a whining sound in his throat, and to my surprise, he begins to cry. "But I am going to miss Steff. She takes care of me. She hugs me."

"I take care of you, too," I say, wounded anew. "We do not need her."