Second Heart: Bones of Eden Page 10

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Tare hugged her tighter. “Never mind. Next time will be different.”

  Someone wailed, the sound carrying up through the trees and reverberating in the night air. The Elikai shifted, huddling closer together. In the Varekai tents, someone began to beat a drum.

  “You need to go to your brothers,” India insisted. “Reassure them. Make sure no one panics.”

  She sighed. “Are you sure? I want to stay with you.”

  “No. I will dance and scream with my sisters. Traditions must be followed.”

  Tare sighed again and started to rise to her feet, but she paused when she saw Whiskey striding through the camp. The Varekai looked confident, happy even. She seemed to be glowing in the firelight.

  Whiskey was always the sickest in the moon ceremony. She bled the most and suffered the most pain. It had been like that from the start. She should have been crippled by now, doubled over with agony somewhere—skin slick with the hallucinogenic mushroom paste they smeared their bodies with to take away the pain and bring on a euphoric divinity. Instead she was upright. She was grinning.

  “Whiskey?” Charlie asked, sounding confused. She was drawing the attention of all the other Varekai and even some of the Elikai.

  “My blood has not come,” Whiskey announced. She put her hands on her belly. “I win, India.”

  * * *

  A second sleepless night found the two tribes in worse condition than before. The day dawned windy—a sure sign the first of the storms was on its way, even though the sky was brilliantly blue and clear.

  The Elikai were bleary-eyed and sullen. Their efforts to retrieve gear the day before had been only partially successful. They had gathered many of their weapons and tools, but the food was all gone. Some of the tribe had split off, taking what remained of the Elikai dog pack up the mountain on Pinnacle Island to wait for the others at the caves.

  Many of the Varekai were sore now, curled up on their mats trying to catch up on sleep or tending soup that was nearly vital to surviving the days of blood and cramping that would follow.

  Whiskey had never felt better. She imagined she could sense the life inside, staving off the awful pain and bleeding that usually crippled her. Keeping her whole so she could hunt and protect herself while the others languished in their beds. She would be the first, the first mother. The first creator. Her daughters would become the next generation of Varekai, swelling the tribe’s ranks back to their former glory.

  She had felt Fox’s eyes on her a number of times and was not at all surprised when the Elikai sat down beside her with a breakfast of dried fruits and goat jerky.

  “So we did it, then.”

  Whiskey smiled. “The benefits of superior breeding stock. I knew India was too small and fragile.”

  “You should probably stop rubbing that in. He is a witchdoctor.”

  Whiskey waved a dismissive hand. “You and I need to talk about today. I assume you will be leading the Elikai hunting party?”

  Fox nodded. “Of course.”

  “And I will lead the Varekai and the pack. We will need to work together if we want to kill the big female. We need to decide on signals and targets.”

  “Sugar thinks we should kill it with puffer fish poison.”

  “There is no glory in that.” Whiskey rose to her feet. “Walk with me. We will be safe on the beach.”

  “Wasn’t Juliet killed on the beach?”

  “Juliet was caught by surprise.”

  They walked side by side, both keenly alert to their surroundings and watching for any potential predators. The ocean was shimmering and white-peaked from the wind, almost frenzied, as if it sensed the coming storm. The storms came in from the east or south, and when they passed, this beach would be awash with broken debris. It was likely the reef would be dotted with a few new ghost ships too, swept up in the ocean currents.

  Whiskey caught herself glancing at the Elikai’s lean, tanned body. The way her muscles moved under her skin. Each motion controlled, expending no more energy than necessary. Her eyes bright and alert, head cocked to the slightest sound.

  There was no denying Fox was an apex predator. Built for the kill, skilled and uniquely gifted at what she did. She stood a mirrored testament to everything Whiskey had made of herself. They were well matched and like-minded, and that kindled a very real heat Whiskey was finding harder and harder to ignore.

  Their couplings of the past had been awkward and somewhat savage. Acts of desperation, not passion or affection. Still, the memory of Fox’s mouth on her skin had fueled every fantasy since then.

  “If you had bled last night, we would probably be having sex right now,” Fox said, and Whiskey stared at her, startled they had been thinking about the same thing.

  “Are you disappointed?” she asked.

  The corner of Fox’s mouth quirked. “I couldn’t give a straight yes or no answer to that.”

  “The tribe is more important than our own personal desires.” She started walking again, but Fox took her hand to stop her.

  “Is that what you desire?”

  She hesitated. Her hand was tingling where Fox’s fingers touched hers, making her feel almost light-headed. “What if it was?”

  “Just a month ago, tribes were only having sex for fun. There were no concerns about breeding. About babies. If you’re pregnant now, that’s good. It’s the best news I’ve had all year. It’s not reason to stop having fun.”

  “Don’t you find it obscene? A Varekai and an Elikai together?”

  Fox knitted her fingers through Whiskey’s, stepping closer. “Maybe that’s what I like about it?”

  Fox’s fingers brushed her shoulders as Fox carefully undid the straps and knots holding Whiskey’s leather bustier in place. She studied the Elikai’s face, the line of her jaw, her eyes, her lips. She had the nicest eyelashes, long and thick. Whiskey wanted to melt into the scent of her, feel that warm, smooth skin against her own.

  Whiskey’s clothes fell loose, and she tossed them to the side, disinterested in where they fell. Without preamble, Fox wiggled out of her grass skirt, leaving it on the sand and stepping close to Whiskey again.

  Whiskey touched her cheek, then closed her eyes and pressed her lips to Fox’s. She tasted like the ocean and coconut. Her arms were warm and strong as they circled Whiskey’s waist. She could feel Fox’s cock rising and brushing against her thighs, and the thrill of it made her skin tingle.

  This time there would be no restraints keeping either of them in place. This time there would be no ulterior motivations. It was not a desperate act of two unwilling people, it was a choice. An act of affection. Whiskey believed life really was growing inside herself and that there was nothing to be gained here, which made it even better.

  Fox’s lips moved from hers, and she breathed her way across Whiskey’s neck, kissing her collarbone and shoulders, then stooping to kiss her breasts, her tongue snaking out to flick across Whiskey’s nipples. Whiskey shuddered, her hands gripping the Elikai’s neck and ribs as Fox’s mouth closed over Whiskey’s breast.

  Whiskey pressed her hips against Fox’s, feeling her cock trapped between them, hot and hard like stone. She let it slip between her legs and gripped it with her thighs, squeezing her legs together in caressing pulses, feeling the solidity of it pressed against the slick lips of her shell.

  Whiskey’s legs were trembling, the need for stimulation between her thighs making her knees threaten to buckle. Fox’s mouth on her breasts was sending stabs of sensation rippling down through her belly, and she wanted Fox inside her, right then.

  The Elikai stopped her sucking and kissed Whiskey once on the lips. Whiskey let her step back, impatient and agitated, and Fox lowered herself to the ground, sitting on the sand with her cock standi
ng to attention against her belly.

  “I want you,” Fox breathed.

  Whiskey sank down to her knees beside her, straddling her hips, belly to belly. Fox had one hand on Whiskey’s ass, holding her steady as she guided her cock into the sodden opening of Whiskey’s shell.

  The head slipped inside her, and she sank down with a groan, taking the full length of the shaft into her core. Fox gasped and kissed her, her mouth hot and hungry. The Elikai’s hands clutched her ass, and Whiskey began to rock. Fox moved her hips to match Whiskey, thrusting deeper with every downward rock and pulling her ass higher with each upward roll to increase the fiction.

  Fox broke the kiss, her lips seeking Whiskey’s breasts, and she cupped them together so the Elikai could suck on both at once, moving back and forth between them with frantic need.

  Every rigid inch of Fox’s cock was buried as deep as it could go inside her shell. Driving upward with every stroke, filling her anew with every savage thrust of Fox’s hips. She wanted more, harder, deeper. The muscles across her belly were taut with effort, and her thighs ached from the alien movement. Fox was nibbling the tender flesh of her breasts with her teeth, and the sensation, not quite pain, was sending her closer and closer to the edge.

  She cried out, her pleasure rising, and their eyes locked. Whiskey was aware of nothing but Fox, her taste, her smell, the sound of her grunts, the heat of her deep inside Whiskey’s hips.

  Their eyes were still locked as she hit her peak, and it roared through her, every pelvic muscle clenching in agonizing bliss. She felt Fox’s thrusts lose their rhythm and become spastic, jerking bucks as she emptied her seed. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through them, saturating all reason. Whiskey pressed her lips to Fox’s, and they sank down, the Elikai’s back resting on the sand, Whiskey resting on her chest.

  For a long moment, Whiskey was only aware of their pulses—Fox’s pounding in her ear through her chest, and her own thundering against her rib cage as she tried to catch her breath.

  Fox shifted a little. “Do you see that?”

  “What?” Whiskey murmured, not even bothering to look, but Fox pointed east, toward the horizon.

  “That.”

  The sky, which had been flawlessly blue when they arrived on the beach, now had a brooding shadow. The eastern horizon was turning black, as if night was bubbling up from the ocean. Even from the great distance, they could see the flashes of lighting in its center.

  As if on cue, the wind picked up again, sending a flurry of sand blasting across them.

  The first storm was coming.

  Chapter Ten

  Nearly everyone from both tribes would be on the hunt. The list of those staying behind in the Varekai village was much shorter: India, the fragile, dark-skinned little witchdoctor; William, still limping from his fight with Fox and Maria; Love, who had never been any good at fighting; and a few others from both sides who were simply not cut out for killing.

  Xícara was faintly in awe of seeing the two tribes side by side like this. Whiskey had his pack of big tan dogs, and Fox was leading his war party of brothers, including Zebra and Maria. Mike looked as fierce as all of them put together, bristling with more spears than he could possibly use. Bravo was there, delegated to carrying rope and bandages. Charlie and Sugar moved side by side, talking quietly, discussing tactics and locations. Still, Xícara found his gaze drifting to Tango over and over. His scars made him noticeable. Tango seemed ashamed of them; they didn’t bother Xícara. They were just a small part of the whole, distinctive but not unappealing. Tango had his mutant dog with him—the one with the oversized ear and too many tails. He was having a hard time keeping the other dogs from killing it. They were already hot for the hunt, and Whiskey was doing little to rein them in.

  “Do you need a hand?” Xícara asked, joining Tango on the beach as they anchored their canoes. Being surrounded by so many dogs and people was so alien, Xícara was feeling a little jumpy. Together, as one force, the Varekai and Elikai felt as formidable as the monster lizards they were facing. Working together, there was probably nothing they couldn’t overwhelm.

  Tango threatened one of Whiskey’s bitches with his spear, and the brute snarled and snapped but kept its distance.

  “I think I have it under control. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought her.”

  “Who?”

  “The pup. But she was Juliet’s. It seems like maybe she should be here for this. Revenge, you know?”

  Xícara looked at the pup, then gave Tango an uncertain smile. He didn’t think dogs had any concept of revenge. Big cats, though, and the older bull crocodiles were a different story.

  “Well, he’s here now.”

  Tango looked around at the gathered warriors. The confusion of quiet, eager voices, the dull clatter of weapons and the snarling of the dogs. “We’re all here. I never thought it would come to this.”

  Xícara stepped closer. “Maybe it’s for the best? Maybe we’ll all see we can work together now.”

  Tango met his gaze for a moment, but then he shook his head. “Someone is probably going to die today. And if someone decides to blame someone else for it, this is all going straight to hell.”

  “Stop picking your noses!” Whiskey’s voice rang out over the murmured conversations. “Move out. We’ve got a she-bitch to kill.”

  The Varekai moved at once, but Xícara saw his brothers hesitate until Fox gave the signal. He fell into step beside Whiskey eagerly. They were too similar, those too. Only really alive when they were on the prowl. Often, in camp, it seemed like everything Fox did was only to pass the time until he had a spear in his hand again.

  “They’re going to compete, aren’t they?” Xícara absently beat one of Whiskey’s dogs on the rump with his spear, and it tucked its tail and ran to keep up with the pack.

  “Perhaps. If Fox is smart, he’ll let Whiskey take the kill. I wouldn’t want to be between her spear and her target.”

  “I’m glad Whiskey is a Varekai. I’d hate for him to be my problem.”

  Tango snorted in amusement.

  The two tribes followed a dry creek bed, led on by the noses of Whiskey’s hounds. The scent of the lizard was so strong, though, that as they passed the gooey smears of scent marking on rocks and fallen trees, even Xícara could smell it. They were on the right trail.

  Of course, being on the right trail meant there were smaller megalania everywhere. The dogs, the size of the hunting party and a few well-placed spears were enough to drive most of them off. The pack fell on a smaller one, ripping it apart when it was not fast enough to escape them. Two of the dogs were bitten, and one began to vomit and shake almost at once. Whiskey hesitated, so Fox put it down instead with a swift slice to the throat.

  “You’re going to run out of dogs,” Xícara murmured to Tango.

  “We’ll breed them up again when the wet is passed. We have pups at the village. We even have a bitch tied up and ready to whelp.”

  “Assuming you have any dogs left after the wet. Food, if you hadn’t noticed, is going to be scarce.”

  Tango glanced at him, and Xícara recognized the pity in his eyes.

  Suddenly, Sugar held up his hand in a fist, and as one, the Elikai and Varekai froze. The whisper passed back from person to person, no louder than the breath of wind in the trees.

  The lizard queen was up ahead.

  Xícara glanced at Tango again. He looked grim, his pulse a little too quick in his neck.

  He touched the Varekai’s shoulder gently. “We’ll stick together, okay? I’ll watch your back.”

  Tango’s expression flickered, uncertain now. He said nothing, turning his attention back to the fore, to Charlie and Sugar, Fox and Whiskey. Fox signaled his hunting party to the south, and Whiskey led his pack to the north. Charlie signaled the rest of the Varekai to continue stra
ight, indicating Whiskey would make first strike, then Charlie’s team, then Fox would be in position to make the kill.

  Xícara watched Fox and his brothers slip into the undergrowth and knew he was supposed to be with them. His duty was to the south. The final assault. The killing assault. He let them go, standing by Tango. He didn’t know if he should feel bad or not, abandoning the brothers he had fought beside since the world was born. Somehow, Tango seemed more important. He thought, maybe, if he didn’t starve to death this summer, he’d like to spend more time with him. Maybe not for sex. That all seemed very complicated. It would have been nice if they could hunt together sometimes. Or sit and talk while they ate their meals.

  That would never happen if either of them were bitten today, so he’d just have to stand by Tango and make sure it didn’t happen.

  The lizard queen was feasting, his back to the tribe as they approached. It took a moment for Xícara to recognize what the huge mound of flesh was, but slowly the meaty shape began to make sense, and he saw it was a huge boar. One of the biggest he’d seen. It was one of the pinker, hairless ones, which could grow to nearly a ton but were rarer on the islands. The smaller, hairy ones seemed to be breeding them out, and Sugar had put a temporary ban on hunting the larger ones to try to bolster their numbers.

  The megalania had probably ruined all chance of that. It was unlikely either tribe would be eating pig for four or five seasons. It would be just fish and shellfish for a long time.

  Quietly, Charlie’s team got into position. Everyone checked their weapons and surveyed the ground before them. The only sound was the snapping of pig bones and the wet gulps as the megalania tossed back its head, swallowing glob after glob of pig intestines. The creek bed was wider here, and the rocks were slick with gallons of pig blood. The slope of the banks was quite forgiving, but on both sides, the trees were dense. Above and below the lizard in the creek bed, large rocks created hazards but also offered protection.

  It was as good a place as they could hope for. It certainly could have been worse.