Page 102 of Right Next Door
Mating was rare on Kree. Those who did mate tended to hide it. There was a very small, fringe population that still mated in the old ways, but they weren’t the type to live in the city. They also weren’t the types to mingle with those that looked down on their way of life. In other words, Tsok had no concept for how to be a proper mate to his female.
And he was tired of messing up.
Boktare might not have meant to mate Fia, but he had certainly not bemoaned his fate. He took excellent care of her. Their mating was accidental, but he’d devoted his life to making sure she was safe, happy, and, most importantly, loved.
Boktare and Fia didn’t call it that. They knew they liked each other, their affections were deep, and they certainly practiced romance like Misty insisted they must do. But they didn’t know to call it romantic love.
Still, there was a lot that Tsok could, and did, learn from him.
He couldn’t do right by her as a human male. He wasn’t one. He had no point of reference. The data packets were helpful, of course, but understanding what he was supposed to do and what it all meant was impossible. There were so many layers of tradition and inherent understanding baked into all of it, hewould never be able to appreciate everything unless he had been raised in that world. He already proved that time and again.
But what he could do, what he was determined to do, was treat her like a kreecharma male. In that, at least, he could say that he had his own natural instincts to rely upon.
And with just a little direction, he could do right by her.
The next day, at the press conference, he had to leave before her to set everything up. When she finally came around, just before they were due to start, he went to meet her. She was wearing another one of her gorgeous, black Earth dresses. It was simpler than the others, but it did have a wonderfully tight corset that he growled at appreciatively as he took her by the hand.
“Ready?” He asked, leading her towards the back of the conference room. There was a long table set up inside, in front of a group of reporters and media persons. They already released a briefing announcing that Tsok and Boktare had come to a compromise, so they already knew what was about to be discussed, though not what the compromise was yet.
“I guess so,” Misty said, fingers lacing through his.
“You don’t have to say anything. Boktare and I will handle it. The only thing required of you is that you sit there and look beautiful. A job you are quite overqualified for.”
Misty gave him a stunned look, then broke into delighted laughter. “That was good.”
“Yeah? You liked that?”
“Very much.” Her eyes sparkled as they joined Boktare. His mate wasn’t with him today. They wanted to keep the focus on Tsok and Misty, on their new way of mating, and not on the accidental method that was, currently, the most common one.
Not long after Misty arrived, they went out to sit at the table. True to his word, Misty didn’t have to do anything but sit toone side of Tsok, Boktare on the other, as Tsok detailed the compromise. He kept it in broad strokes, starting with their own, abandoned traditions. While he appreciated the human elements they were going to be taking to make this new tradition, he wanted to ground it mostly in his people’s old, once beloved traditions first. Surely, there would be others that already knew of them. Historians, history enthusiasts like Davard, and even those that simply listened to stories that were passed down through friends and ancestors. He might not know the old traditions, and this part of their past might not be common knowledge, but it would be soon. And from that, he could build this new future going forward.
“My female has, graciously, agreed to marry me,” Tsok announced, finishing his speech. “She will be borrowing from her own customs, adding them to our own. And to help ease the concerns of my people, she’s agreed to allow cameras to record the entire process, up to but not including the mating itself, so everyone can see what all of this involves. I’ll be taking questions now.”
Before he finished speaking, there were already people rushing to speak. To ask. He had to point out the first person to get their question first.
“Mating is notoriously dangerous,” the female reporter started the moment he gave her leave. “This is known. Resisting that violent impulse is the basis of our society. You really think that this is something worth reviving?”
“I can answer that,” Boktare took over smoothly. “What scared our people was never the mating rut itself. In fact, that part was always considered enjoyable. For both parties. Having gone through it myself, I can assure you, the rut is not, and never was, the problem. The problem was being unable to control when it happened. The scars of our past came from it happening whenit ought not have. But with the new technology, with the help of True Match, we can find our mates without needing to scent them and get close to them without losing our minds. As Tsok has demonstrated with his stunning amount of control and will.”
Everyone’s attention turned to him and his female. Tsok held his head up proudly. Seated next to the larger, mated Boktare, wearing a nasal filter while the older male did not, it was clear he hadn’t given himself over to that base urge, despite his matched mate being right beside him.
“Make no mistake,” Boktare continued firmly. “I have not changed my beliefs. I do not think it is wise to return to our old roots. We have moved past this. We have seen it go wrong in the worst kind of ways. But with True Match, we can do thisright. And I know that Tsok is the best person to show us how it can be done. We can do this. For Her.”
The reporters all tittered and mumbled, making the connection between the old call to action and this new direction forward.
There were more questions. A lot of them basically just repeating that first question with different words, in different forms. It was the biggest concern. However, this was also the first time Boktare had been open about what happened to him when he mated Fia. Everyone knew ithadhappened, of course, but he hadn’t actually described what it was like living through the rut.
Between Tsok and Boktare, they were able to answer almost every question. However, when Tsok called out for the last question, the person he picked to ask it didn’t look at either of them. Instead, they faced Misty.
“Charina, is this sudden change in Senior Boktare’s ideology an influence from you? Are you pushing your human ways onto him?”
Misty, unprepared to be addressed, made a sound of confusion. The reporter took that as a request to repeat himself.
“Have you forced your human ways on your mate and the seniors?” He asked, the harsh, accusatory edge to his question very ill-concealed.
“You are out of line,” Tsok growled at the male.
But the reporter didn’t turn his gaze from Misty.
