They took much thought and time.įor now, they called her leikavi. But to Dakkari, given names were a serious matter. Her name was still undecided, which Luna had originally balked at. “She is perfect,” he repeated, stroking his finger down her soft, bare back, eyeing her budding tail, careful of his claws. She looked strange and like all Dakkari young, it would take her time to grow into her proportions, to grow into her strength.īut Arokan, with the exception of his mate, had never seen anything more beautiful. From the bottom of her spine, a small, flexible bump protruded, which would later form a tail as she aged. Her eyes were Dakkari, black with a golden ring, like Arokan’s. Little wisps of light brown hair, also like her mother’s, sprouted sporadically from her growing skull, until she resembled an aging jinabu, a small yet terrifying creature from the north. Their child was still wrinkly, her skin light, like her mother’s. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” his Morakkari whispered, her eyes twinkling up at him. He felt the weight of her settle against him, felt her head lean back to rest on his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there. Never before had a female entangled his chest so in knots, who fought against him because she could, who enthralled him so completely that she alone could bring him to his knees.Īrokan pulled Luna into his arms, careful not to disturb their nursing child. Never before had he cared so deeply for a female who was not of his line.
At first, it had frustrated and confused him. She’d always made him feel that way, he mused. His Luna looked over at him, smiling, and though it was a bitterly cold night, he felt like he was watching a thousand sunrises over Dakkar. It was, perhaps, his most important role, the role that brought him ultimate happiness.Īrokan slid underneath the furs, nude, next to his mate.
Just like Arokan had always known he would rise to be Vorakkar of his own horde, he’d also known that he would rise to be a father and a mate. Less than a moon cycle old, born under a sparkling night sky blessed by Kakkari, blessed by Drukkar. At her exposed breast was their child, suckling. His Luna-his kassikari, his Morakkari-was lying cocooned in the furs. Love and awe and determination and a fierce need to protect followed, as they always did. Arokan of Rath Kitala stood from the fire barrel, after ensuring there would be enough fuel to burn through the night, and returned to the bed of furs.Ĭontentment, unlike he’d ever known, filled him.
The v oliki was warm, though outside the land was frozen over.
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