The voliki was warm, though outside the land was frozen over. 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.
Contentment, unlike he’d ever known, filled him. Love and awe and determination and a fierce need to protect followed, as they always did.
His Luna—his kassikari, his Morakkari—was lying cocooned in the furs. At her exposed breast was their child, suckling.
A horde princess.
Less than a moon cycle old, born under a sparkling night sky blessed by Kakkari, blessed by Drukkar.
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. It was, perhaps, his most important role, the role that brought him ultimate happiness.
Arokan slid underneath the furs, nude, next to his mate. 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.
She’d always made him feel that way, he mused. At first, it had frustrated and confused him. Never before had he cared so deeply for a female who was not of his line. 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.
Such was the power she held over him.
Arokan pulled Luna into his arms, careful not to disturb their nursing child. 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.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” his Morakkari whispered, her eyes twinkling up at him.
He grunted, amused. It was a joke between them. “She is,” he murmured.
Their child was still wrinkly, her skin light, like her mother’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. Her eyes were Dakkari, black with a golden ring, like Arokan’s. From the bottom of her spine, a small, flexible bump protruded, which would later form a tail as she aged.
She looked strange and like all Dakkari young, it would take her time to grow into her proportions, to grow into her strength.
But Arokan, with the exception of his mate, had never seen anything more beautiful.
“She is perfect,” he repeated, stroking his finger down her soft, bare back, eyeing her budding tail, careful of his claws.
Her name was still undecided, which Luna had originally balked at. But to Dakkari, given names were a serious matter. They took much thought and time.
For now, they called her leikavi. Small, beautiful one.
And nothing was more beautiful, more natural, than watching their leikavi suckle at her mother’s breast.
Arokan managed to take his eyes away from the much-celebrated horde princess to seek his queen’s gaze. When he found it, he held it, her dark eyes pinning him into place, just like the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
“Lo kassiri tei,” he said softly.
She smiled, turning her head so that her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. “I love you too, husband.”
His chest puffed a little. Arokan loved when she called him that. A human term for a mate, he knew, but one that seemed perfectly right coming from her lips.
Husband.
After their leikavi was finished suckling, Arokan took her from her mother and got out from their furs. Nearest the fire barrel was a small enclosed bed that was hers alone. Brushing a kiss over her forehead, Arokan gazed down at his daughter and whispered, “Lo kassiri tei,” to her as well. Her eyes blinked up at him, though her dark eyelashes had begun to flutter. She was growing tired from her mother’s milk and the heat of the fire.
Arokan laid her down, her belly full and round. Crouching down, he stroked her head, feeling the little tufts of hair, until she fell asleep and even after that, he watched her, his chest filled with pride and awe.
A gift. A gift from his kassikari, one he would cherish and protect always. A gift his kassikari had fought hard to bring into the universe, something he could never forget.
He sobered, remembering.
“Arokan,” Luna called softly, beckoning him back to their furs. He went after one final gaze at his horde princess and then gathered his mate in his arms, bringing her close. “What is it?” she asked, reaching up to touch his hard jawline, to brush over his lips.
He kissed her once, twice, breathing her in.
When the child hadn’t been born yet, Arokan had told Luna about a dream, a vision sent to him by Kakkari herself. He’d told her that she would give him a female first—which she had—followed by three males and then their last would be another female. It had been so clear to him, as if it were already reality.
But Luna’s labor had been difficult. Next to when she’d been taken by the Ghertun, her labor had been the most frightened that Arokan had ever been. There had been moments when he’d questioned if she would survive it, when he’d seen the same question in her frantic eyes. During the worst moments, when she’d screamed in pain, when the baby was still not coming, Arokan knew that if she passed into the next life, he would follow her. He couldn’t live without her. She was his only love, his mate, his queen. Not even death would keep them apart.
But she’d pulled through. Kakkari had heard his desperate prayers and Luna had the strength to give birth to a healthy, lively daughter.
“Arokan,” Luna whispered, looking at him, her gaze worried.
“You have given me the highest of honors,” he murmured to her. It was something he’d been thinking about often, but did not know how to say. He tried anyways with, “If it were only her, if she is our only child, our only heir, I would die a proud, grateful male.”
Her brow furrowed. “Arokan…is this what you’ve been thinking about? Why you’ve been quieter lately?”
“Lysi,” he rasped.
In the cold season, days were shorter, nights were longer, and there was more time to think about matters like these.
Luna’s features softened and she sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. “Arokan, Kakkari showed you that we would have five children. I want more. And I know you do too.”
“I cannot see you like that again,” he confessed, his voice gruff. “I cannot bear to lose you. I never want to put you at risk.”
Luna leaned forward and silenced his fears with a kiss.
“The Dakkari are spiritual beings,” she whispered when she pulled back. “It was something that I did not understand when you first brought me to the horde. But I see it now. I feel it now. And Arokan, my love, you have always had faith. You more than anyone. I ask that you have it now, that you do not doubt your goddess and that you do not doubt yourself.”
Vok, he loved this female. That love sped his heart, filled his veins. That love nourished him.
“Have faith,” she whispered, grinning up at him. “I do.”
Arokan exhaled a sharp breath and leaned his forehead against hers.
“Lysi?” she asked gently, her eyes darting back-and-forth between his.
“Lysi,” he said gruffly.
Then he kissed her and she softened in his arms.
The future was uncertain. It always would be. Not only within their small, albeit growing family, but in all of Dakkar. The Ghertun threat was growing by the day. Their aging Dothikkar, who was without a direct heir, grew erratic and paranoid within the confines of Dothik. It was only a matter of time before all the Vorakkars needed to come together and make a decision for the future of Dakkar, if their king could not.
But there was always hope.
And there, in the warmth of their voliki, with his Morakkari tucked in the safety of his arms, and their leikavi asleep in her furs, the troubles that plagued Arokan’s mind seemed millions of light years away. Right then, they were untouchable.
His family gave him strength. He would do whatever needed to be done to protect them, to protect his horde.
And because of them, whatever came next in their uncertain yet bright future, he would be ready for.
Always.