The Choosing (11 page)

Serim gasps and flings her arms around Jerath’s back, burying her face in his fur. “We found them, Jerath. We found them.” He turns his head and nuzzles at her until she laughs and stands back up.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and wipes a stray tear away with the back of her hand. “It’s just that we’re so glad to have found you. We really need your help.”

M
EREN
’
S
camp is about half an hour’s walk from the apple grove. Jerath and Serim walk beside Meren at the front of the group. Jerath is still in his jaguar form—he doesn’t trust them enough to shift back yet—and he listens closely as Serim fills Meren in on what happened to their village and its people.

“What did they look like?” Meren asks. “The raiders, I mean.” His eyes flicker down to Jerath as he speaks, and Jerath can already tell Meren’s one of those who are fascinated with the idea of shifters.

It makes Jerath feel a bit strange, as though he’s something of a spectacle, but regardless of that it’s a nice feeling to have Meren’s attention. He has lovely deep-blue eyes with dark lashes, and Jerath wonders if they’ll still seek him out as much when he’s human again.

“They were dressed much like you and your men,” Serim answers, and gestures to Meren’s clothing. “They carried bows and hunting knives too.”

Jerath watches Meren’s face for his reaction. Meren frowns and shares a look with a couple of the men on his other side. “They sound like hunters from Kalesaan, but no one I know of would raid a village for slaves.”

“Oh… they had whips too,” Serim adds, and Jerath feels the anger rush through her body as she no doubt thinks about Ghaneth. Her fingers are hanging down by her side and Jerath nips at them, licking her palm to let her know he feels it too.

“Eww, Jerath.” She glares down at him and wipes her hands on her loose trousers, but the anger has gone and Jerath hums with approval. Serim strokes the soft fur behind his ear and whispers, “Thank you,” so quietly only Jerath seems to hear it.

“Isn’t that weird?” Meren asks. He’s watching Serim and Jerath closely, and Jerath can sense his curiosity.

“Yeah.” One of the other men joins in the conversation. “Aren’t you worried that he might bite you?”

Jerath would raise an eyebrow if he could, because what a ridiculous thing to say. As if he would ever bite Serim.

Some of the others start to speak now. “He’s a wild animal, after all. Shouldn’t you have him restrained, or on a lead?” The men behind them start to laugh until Meren barks an order for them to be quiet.

Jerath snarls, his sharp teeth glinting in the fading light. He might not bite Serim, but he could quite easily sink his teeth into one or two of the hunters.

“I apologize for my men,” Meren says, and Jerath is more than a little surprised to hear him call the group “his men.” He doesn’t look old enough to be their leader. “They aren’t used to your kind.”

Serim smiles and Jerath recognizes it as her sly and calculating one. “That’s okay. But they’d better not say anything else. Jerath can be quite vicious when he’s upset.” Jerath growls loudly, just to add weight to Serim’s words.

“Sorry.” The men look warily at Jerath. “You won’t tell him, will you? I don’t fancy being on the receiving end of those teeth.”

Serim grins and Jerath waits for the punch line.

“I don’t have to tell him, he can understand you just fine.” Serim tickles Jerath under the chin. “Can’t you? You big, vicious meat eater.”

Jerath roars, startling the birds and making one or two of the men jump back. Serim laughs loudly at the shocked and slightly pale faces around them, and Jerath rubs up against her thigh.

“I suggest you tell your men to keep a civil tongue in their heads from now on,” Serim informs Meren as she keeps a hand on Jerath’s back. “You never know who’s listening.”

Meren smirks and shakes his head. “I think they got the message.”

The rest of the walk back to their camp is relatively silent. Jerath feels nearly everyone’s gaze on him, but none of them dare to speak and Jerath wonders how awkward it’s going to be when he shifts back.

T
HE
camp is much larger than Jerath expected. There are seven tents in total and a large fire in the middle where something—and it’s definitely not rabbit—is being roasted. Five more men appear from inside one of the tents and they walk forward to greet Meren. They look a little older than the others; their bodies are filled out with thick muscle and they have the air of experienced fighters. All five of them give Jerath and Serim curious looks. Well, the look they give Jerath’s jaguar could be classed as curious, but Serim garners rather more interest. Jerath doesn’t miss the way each man’s gaze sweeps over her body and lingers on her breasts.

He growls out a warning and walks in front of her, baring his teeth and stopping the approaching men in their tracks.

“I don’t think the cat likes you leering at his mate.” Meren laughs as the men look between Jerath and Serim with confused expressions. “They’re from Eladir,” Meren says, and Jerath can see the moment they realize what that means. It seems everyone has heard of their village.

“Shifters?” one of them asks. “A bit far from home, aren’t you?” He looks at Serim expectantly, but it’s Meren who answers.

“They’ve had some trouble from raiders.” He pauses to take off his bow and prop it up next to one of the tents. “Southern raiders, looking for slaves. Have you heard of any such hunters in Kalesaan?”

The man scratches the back of his neck. “Only rumors, Meren. Your father asked us to keep an eye out for trouble before we left.”

Meren mutters something under his breath, which Jerath is almost sure is a string of curses. “I’ll take it up with my father when we return.” He turns to Serim. “I assume it’s my father that you want to talk to? He’s the leader of our village now.”

Serim looks down at Jerath for confirmation, and Jerath realizes that it’s probably safe for him to shift back now. It’ll make communicating a lot easier too. He concentrates hard, pictures his human form, and feels the air shimmer around him as he changes.

Jerath opens his eyes to see everyone staring at him. Serim coughs next to him. He turns to face her and is met with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression.

“I think you might need these.” She hands Jerath a bundle, and his face heats up in an instant as he recognizes his clothes.

Oh, yes. Shifting back means nakedness. On second thought, maybe he should have done that in private.

The group of men is chatting animatedly between themselves now while stealing glances at Jerath. Hopefully they’re discussing his shifting display and not his current lack of clothing.

“Thanks,” Jerath mumbles and snatches the bundle of clothes out of Serim’s hands. He drops the whole lot on the ground and starts to get dressed. Jerath chances a glance up at Meren, about to ask him about the journey back to his village, but he discovers that Meren is looking at him—well, staring would be more accurate.

Meren smiles when he gets caught out. “You’re lucky to have such a fine-looking mate.” He addresses Serim before his eyes settle back on Jerath’s chest.

Jerath’s mouth drops open. Did Meren just describe him as “fine-looking”? He doesn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. He’s not livestock; he’s human and he’s standing right here. Serim laughs at his stunned expression and Jerath glares between the two of them.

“Yes.” Serim smirks as she turns to Meren. “He is fine looking.” She ignores Jerath’s huffs of indignation. “But he’s not my mate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Meren apologizes, and Jerath thinks he looks far from sorry, if the smile tugging at his lips is anything to go by. “I just assumed….”

Serim turns around and lifts the back of her tunic to show off her tattoo. “Jerath.” She motions for him to do the same. “We’re not matched,” she explains, looking back over her shoulder after Meren has had time to look at their tattoos.

“Serim and I are just friends.” Jerath turns around and Meren snaps his gaze back up to his face. His eyes are wide, and Jerath wonders if he’s ever seen a shifter’s tattoo before. Maybe he’ll ask Meren about that later. “I’m Jerath, by the way. In case you wanted to talk to me directly or anything.” Jerath is quite aware of how petulant he sounds, and not at all like the adult he needs to be if they’re going to get Meren’s father to help them.

Meren at least looks slightly sheepish, but Serim just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Forgive my rudeness.” Meren dips his head slightly in apology. “I’d just got used to talking to Serim while you were shifted.” He rubs a hand across his eyes and Jerath sees for the first time how weary he looks. “We’ve started off badly and I appear to be doing nothing but apologizing. Come, let me make it up to you. If my father learns of my lack of manners, he will not be pleased.” He walks toward the fire and gestures for them to follow.

Serim sidles up to Jerath as they walk. “He likes you,” she whispers.

Jerath narrows his eyes at her. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he hisses back, and she grins up at him.

“I thought he might swallow his tongue when he saw you naked.” Jerath stumbles over the tiniest rock at her words, and she stifles her giggles with her hand. “And when he saw your tattoo….” She pretends to fan herself with her hands.

Jerath pointedly ignores Serim and keeps walking, but he can’t quite ignore the warm feeling that stirs in the pit of his stomach.

“W
HAT
meat is that, exactly?” Jerath points to the fire.

One of the hunters is currently carving long strips off the joint of meat and piling it on a huge plate. It smells delicious and Jerath’s mouth is already watering in anticipation.

“It’s white-tailed deer,” Meren answers as he sits down next to Jerath. His hard, muscled thigh rubs up against Jerath’s as he shifts position, and Jerath swallows thickly. He can feel the warmth through his pants and he wants to shuffle closer to get more of it, but manages to keep still.

Jerath may be a shifter, but he doubts Meren would appreciate it if he started rubbing all over him like a cat. He focuses back on the conversation just as Serim speaks.

“Aren’t we too far north for white-tailed deer?” She accepts a plate of meat from the hunter and pops a piece in her mouth. “
Oh
, it’s good.” She licks her lips and Meren smiles at her.

“It is, isn’t it?” He takes a plate too, and passes one to Jerath. “And yes. We are too far north for most of them, but we found a stray herd a few a days ago.” Serim nods and falls silent as she continues to eat.

Jerath picks up a piece from his plate and bites into it. He can’t help it—he moans. It’s more like a low purr in the back of his throat, but the meat is so soft and tender it practically melts in his mouth. He licks the juices from his fingers, sucking them into his mouth to get every last bit. When Jerath looks up, Meren is staring at him again. His eyes are heavy lidded and he’s biting his lip.

The hunter who was carving the meat walks over and sits down opposite them. “A fine-looking man, indeed. Eh, Meren?” He pokes at Meren’s foot with his boot.

Jerath stops eating and looks between the two of them, not sure he understood correctly.

Meren coughs and struggles to swallow without choking. “Jerath, let me introduce you to Torek.” He points at him and grins. “He’s my friend and second-in-command, and he has a smart mouth.” Torek looks slightly older than Meren. He’s just as tall and broad and has the same golden skin, but with black hair and dark eyes.

Jerath nods in greeting and chooses to ignore Torek’s earlier comment for now. “Forgive me for asking, but aren’t you both a little young to be in charge of all these men?” Jerath can see Serim shake her head out of the corner of his eye, and he hopes he’s not managed to offend them. He’s just curious. The elders are the ones who make all the decisions in Jerath’s village, but these two look the same age as he and Serim. Much to Jerath’s relief, both Meren and Torek laugh and don’t seem at all bothered by his question.

“I turned nineteen on the last new moon,” Meren replies. “It’s customary for the chief’s son to lead the hunting party when he comes of age. This is my second hunt.” He says it with pride, and Jerath notices how his eyes shine with the light of the fire.

Meren’s face is all angles—high cheekbones and a sharp jawline—but his lips look soft and inviting, and Jerath wonders if they taste as good as they look. He realizes a moment too late that he’s staring, and Torek’s loud laughter has him scooting back a little, away from Meren.

“It would seem that Jerath likes the look of you too, Meren.” Torek wipes his hands on his breeches and fixes his gaze on Jerath. “What do you say, Jerath? Will you be warming the bed of our handsome leader tonight? I hear that he’s very talented in that particular area.”

Jerath feels the heat blooming in his cheeks. He’s already warm from the fire, but now his face feels much hotter than the flames. Both men are looking at him, waiting for him to reply, but Jerath can’t think of a single thing to say. He’s not used to men talking so openly about liking other men, and he’s not sure if they’re serious or just trying to goad him into saying something incriminating.