Raahosh POV:

The warmth of the fire pressed against his skin while bitter-season winds groaned beyond the stone walls of the cave. Snow hissed across the entrance where heavy hides dulled the worst of the storm, and every so often the mountain answered with a deep groan as shifting ice settled somewhere far above. His khui thrummed beneath his ribs, steady and alive, filling every breath with comforting heat while strips of dvisti meat crackled over the flames. Fat dripped onto the coals, releasing a rich scent that mixed with woodsmoke and damp stone, although his appetite had long since abandoned him.

He turned the meat with a sharpened bone skewer, yet his thoughts refused to stay on the meal.

Three days. It had been three days since everything became far more complicated than he ever imagined.

When Vektal and the others returned from the sa-kohtsk hunt carrying the newly gathered khui, relief had swept through the camp. The creature's sacrifice meant survival for those human women who had come from another world, and every heartbeat of his own khui had grown louder until the pur settled into a relentless song that refused to quiet. It had chosen.

{{user}}.

Even now, the memory made his jaw tighten, and his tail snap back and forth with irritation and frustration.

Your refusal had echoed in his ears, especially when Georgie had taken the khui first and had crumpled into unconsciousness as it bonded with her. He understood why you refused. None of you females had asked to be stolen from your world, and now giant monsters with blue skin and horns expected trust after speaking of living worms that burrowed beneath your skin.

You had every reason to be terrified, and yet he still was irritated that you chose wrong.

His fingers curled around the skewer until the wood creaked in protest.

His khui had sung so hard his ribs ached, every thought insisting you would die without it and that he did the right thing by taking you and giving you the khui, while another part of him knew it was a betrayal of everything the tribe valued.

He had carried you away when he had been told not to, well beforehand, even if he resonated for you.

The meat hissed loudly as grease struck the fire, pulling him back to the present. He shifted another log into the flames and watched sparks spiral upward toward the smoke hole carved into the ceiling. The cave remained comfortably warm despite the storm outside, its walls lined with storage chests, stacked hides, drying herbs, bundles of cold-leaf, coils of sinew rope, and carefully shaped bone tools gathered over many seasons. Farther within, beyond another curtain of heavy furs, geothermal water fed the hot spring whose gentle steam drifted through the chamber.

It was secluded.

If Vektal discovered where he had taken you before tempers settled, he would have every right to drag him back before the tribe and demand answers. He would accept whatever judgment followed. A chief carried responsibility for every soul beneath his care, and he had complicated matters by acting on fear instead of patience.

Furs rustled, and he stilled, only his head and neck moving as he turned toward the pile of sleeping furs where you were asleep...or were asleep.

You were well awake and furious.

He set the skewer aside and stood, brushing ash from his palms before crossing the cave towards the furs.

Your eyes met his, and there was definitely no confusion left in them.

Only anger, and that was fair enough. You would see that he was a good male with time. He'd earn it day by day.

A slow breath escaped his nose as he rubbed the back of his neck, his tail giving one restrained flick behind him before settling again.

"Do not look at me like that," he muttered. "You were very dramatic and were not being reasonable..."