Page 56 of Romancing Rem'eb

“It’s that you need someone to choose you first, and he’s not able to do that,” Gail replies, her voice as low and gentle as mine. “I understand. I really do. It doesn’t mean you can’t both be happy on some level, but you need to talk to him and hash things out. Trust me. After two spouses and being old enough to be your grandma, I’ve learned a thing or two about relationships, and they all come back to talking things out.”

I roll my eyes. Gail makes it sound as if she’s as old as the hills, but she’s maybe fifty-five if she’s a day, and looks like she could be in her early thirties. She is absolutely not grandma material. “That’s the problem. We don’t speak the same language, and it’s hard for me to pour my heart out to him when Noj’me is sitting right there, staring. And half the time she doesn’t even get the words right, either!”

“Then you take that man to Croatoan and you get him a language chip. Or better yet, you take him to the old ship and let the computer zap some words into his head. The ship is tipped on its side but it still works.” She gives me a forceful nod. “And then you two hash it out.”

She makes it sound so simple. Why does it always feel anything but simple when the two of us—myself and Rem’eb—are alone?

It’s because of resonance. It doesn’t want to hear excuses. It just wants babies made. Doesn’t care about the rest. “Maybe we do just need to talk it out. Thanks, Gail.”

“I know it sounds like both the simplest and the hardest thing in the world, but talking things through at least gets you on the same page.”

Go get the language dump for Rem’eb. Tell him how I really feel. Why does that all feel so simple yet impossible? Is it because I’m afraid that once we can truly speak freely, without barriers, that he still won’t choose me? The thought makes a knot rise in my throat. I know what I have to do. I’m just scared to do it.

“Thanks, Gail,” I say, because if nothing else, I have a bit of clarity now.

She drops the last pair of leggings into a pile and gets to her feet. “And with that, I should probably see what’s going on with breakfast. Between you and me, Jason’s driving me nuts with the cooking help. I think he worked in a kitchen, and so he’s constantly making things more complicated. Yesterday he asked me if we ever considered making a fish rillette. I don’t even know what the heck that is.”

“A man, making things complicated?” I joke. “You don’t say.”

She snorts with laughter.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

TIA

Isnag two bowls of hot food before Jason drops the shrimp in and bring them back to my hut. I’m still thinking about what Gail said. About how we need to talk it out, and the best thing we can do is to communicate freely. More than that…that Rem’eb isn’t an asshole for his plans to return. I know his plans are anything but selfish, but it’s hard to be willing to give him up for the bigger good when all I want is for him to stay by my side.

The closer I get to “my” end of the beach, my khui begins to hum, louder and louder. It’s been far more insistent lately, with the smallest thing arousing me and my dreams full of filthy scenarios. I know it’s just going to get worse until resonance is fulfilled, and it’s another reason why the situation frustrates me so much. Resonance doesn’t give a fuck if Rem’eb abandons me, but I sure do. I duck into my hut with the bowls in hand to find the object of my desires is awake, and he’s pulling on layer after layer of clothing, probably in order to come and find me. His expression brightens at the sight of me, worry easing off his face. “Tia. You have returned.”

“I brought food,” I say, holding a bowl out for him. “Then you and I should probably have a nice, long chat.”

He tilts his head, studying me, his brows furrowed as he tries to make out what I’m saying.

“Noj’me,” I tell him. “After this.”

He nods. Food, then find the translator.

I sit next to him, my khui singing in my breast. It’s hard to concentrate on anything when all I want to do is touch him. I want to push that fur out of his lap and sprawl over him. I want to lick the head of his dick, not my carved bone spoon. Kissing him and the mental image of his tongue dancing against mine fills my head, and I’m so distracted that I feel as if I’m about to come out of my skin.

A hand touches my knee and I gasp, shocking pleasure jolting through me.

We both stare at each other, clutching our empty bowls. He leans in to kiss me, and I pull back, because I have to get my mind settled on where this is going first. I need to know what my future is going to look like. “Noj’me.”

“Yes. Let us find her.” If he’s hurt by my refusal, he doesn’t show it. Always so stoic, Rem’eb. It’s the chief’s son in him, I guess.

We wash our bowls and return them to the fire, and then wander through the camp looking for Noj’me the Attendant. Everyone’s lingering around camp and talking in whispers, and I remember that we’re all supposed to be helping out to do Flor’s surprise wedding feast. It seems more important in this moment that we find Noj’me first, though.

I’m not sure we’re going to be able to help anyone with resonance humming like it is. Even now, I’m fighting the urge to reach over and rip the layers of furs off of Rem’eb so I can touch his warm skin and let my hands roam all over him. If we’re apart, the resonance sensations are annoyingly distracting but tolerable. Together? My thoughts have been hijacked by an absolute dick-hound and all I can think about is sex.

Sex sex sex.

I’m not going to be able to hold out against resonance for much longer. I know others have held out for weeks, and Josie and Haeden took over a month to consummate things. I have no idea how the hell they did that, because I can’t resist constantly looking at Rem’eb, and when I look at him, things go haywire. My nipples get hard, my body clenches around nothing, and my panties get wet. My breathing speeds up.

It makes me want to avoid being around the rest of the tribe, that’s for sure. The last thing I want is someone pointing out that I’m sweating or that I look distracted. And if one of the newcomers so much as looks at Rem’eb, I might claw her eyes out.

The idea of being rational has been completely abandoned. Now I’m just a snarling, feral creature that needs to get laid. I think Rem’eb is just as lost in this as I am. He stumbles when he walks, as if he’s not paying enough attention, and he reaches for my hand constantly. Then the moment our fingers brush, he pulls away as if burned.

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