Two of a Kind Ch. 02

Mackent groaned as he laid back in the shade, "Oh so good. I don't even want to think about moving." Several of the men nodded as they relaxed. Saulle glanced at Bashta and then looked down at his hands fiddling with a leaf, the thick, broad flesh doubling as a napkin to hold the hot fish.

"Yes, it was very good. Thank you," he said quietly. The men all watched Bashta's reaction surreptitiously. The pair had avoided each other since Bashta began guiding them several days before. It had created even more tension in the usually close knit group was already strained by their leader's erratic mood and the fear for their families.

Bashta bit his lip. Hesitating, Bashta finally took a breath. "You're welcome."

Shoulders relaxed and some of the men grinned. A good part of the tension in the air disappeared. As the heat of the day spiked, everyone found cool places and lay down for a rest. Cavel lay on his side facing Bashta who had been sitting cross-legged, using a knife from his bag to carve one of the round black seeds of the small orange fruits.

The soft eyes staring at him made Bashta as nervous as before but in all new ways. His dreams, the small touches, the feelings he was getting every time he got close to Cavel made him feel increasingly restless for more, but he didn't know what he really wanted. He wasn't sleeping well these last few nights and the afternoons had been spent fantasizing more than anything else. He glanced at the man sleeping by his side with heat in his eyes.

Bashta wished his father was there; someone, anyone, he could talk to about what he was feeling. It overwhelmed him and made him long for things that weren't safe to want. He settled back on his elbows and stared up at the leaves dappled by the sunlight. He tried to stop but he couldn't resist turning his head sideways and looking again at the now relaxed face lying within arm's reach. Cavel's face was stern and serious whenever he was awake but asleep his cares weighed on him less and he looked softer, kinder. This was the first time Bashta really had a chance to study it without having to worry about being caught.

He slid down to lay on his side and watched Cavel as his lips fluttered and then smiled quickly before falling back into peaceful lines. Bashta could almost swear he could feel a burst of excitement and joy from him. Unable to look away, he curled into a ball and watched, eyes tracing the full black eyebrows, the thin eyelids covering the dark eyes, the straight blade like nose above full lips that were slightly parted. There were dirt smudges, sweat, and lines drawn by care and fear, but overall it was a handsome face, a good face. Cavel had proved to be a good man.

Bashta's eyes slowly closed until he too fell asleep with his head pillowed on his arms, his mind showing him the things he could only dream of.

***

That afternoon Bashta and Cavel talked a lot. Speaking of their lives, dancing around their true thoughts, they traveled along the river until they reached a tributary that led up to a jutting headland in the distance. Cavel looked at the cliff and worked his hands together, twisting his fingers as he thought.

"Are you sure we will reach it in time?" He glanced worriedly at Bashta who nodded.

"Yes. It is closer than it looks. There are only three major curves in this river and there are places to cross on two of them that will save us time. We will be there by mid-afternoon at the latest. That will give us plenty of time to rest before we enter the Temple."

Cavel frowned. "I'm going to want to go to the Temple right away, Bashta. Our kitlings could be dying. I can't worry about resting." He felt guilty, looking at his feet and muttering, "Or anything else either."

"I won't lead you in before dusk; it's against tradition, forbidden. Besides, does it make sense to face something so unknown at less than the best you can be?" Bashta looked at him with an eyebrow raised. He turned and ducked under a branch of a tree that dipped down toward the water, walking even as they argued.

"Fuck tradition! We have to!" Cavel snapped in frustration, glaring at him when he stood up from ducking under the branch as well. "How could you possibly wait on tradition when our kitlings could be dying? Do you want what happened to your clan to happen to mine?" Bashta flinched and his face turned white. Tears came to his eyes but he blinked furiously to keep them from falling. He turned and fled, disappearing quickly into the jungle, leaving a stricken Cavel behind.

"Bashta! Wait!"

Saulle shook his head; he had been walking behind the pair and heard everything they said. Cavel turned his mood on him next. "What? You should be happy. We know where to find the Temple and he's gone. That's what you wanted all along anyway wasn't it? You can rest easy; I'll never have the chance to bond my mate and be happy."

Saulle simply looked at Cavel and didn't say a word.

The men had stopped walking and were watching him with open mouths and shocked expressions. Cavel turned away, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes and shook his head, regretting the words even as they flew from his mouth. The stress he was under as a clan leader yet remaining unmated for years, finding his mate unexpectedly, the sudden 'tradition' a road block to getting the lives of his clan back safely... It all conspired to break him emotionally.

He dropped to his knees and buried his hands into the dry sand, shaking silently as he fought back tears.

Saulle swept a glance across the men and they quickly moved off. He knelt down next to Cavel.

"You are not responsible for this disease. You are not the only man here who is trying to save our kitlings. You take on too much."

"But I am responsible!" Cavel cried. He raised his head, his face ravaged by pain and his eyes shiny with all the tears he held back. "I told my father I would keep our clan together; I swore to him that I would always protect us. I am a black jaguar, an alpha! This is who I am, what I am supposed to do. If I can't do this, if I can't save them..." His voice trailed off.

"You will do your very best and that is all anyone can do," Saulle said simply.

Cavel shook his head in denial.

"Yes! You, unbonded and unchanged, have led us into becoming the largest jaguar clan in the western hemisphere. Your strength has brought our clan together more solidly than ever before and we are more prosperous, more harmonious as a whole than ever before. We have a support system to protect us and a family to succor us. We have all this because you care about us, not just being in charge. You found someone to help us here, just when we were giving up hope. I won't say I believe he can truly be your mate, but if he is, he will be back. You have to believe that without you, we would never have had this chance.

"No matter what happens at the Temple, if we find the cure we need or not, you are not to blame. You did not bring this on our people. You need to understand and believe this." Saulle reached out and gripped Cavel's shoulder. "You are not to blame."

Cavel's anguished eyes filled with tears. He closed them, looking down at the ground in shame. "I just feel so alone all the time. I drove him away, Saulle. I can't feel him. He's gone. What if he doesn't come back? If we can't find a cure for the kitlings? If the rest of the clan is sick when we get back?" Cavel rocked back on his knees and looked up at the sky and the tall trees standing silently over them. When he looked back down at Saulle the tears had overflowed and were running down his face.

"When does this get better? When does life stop being so hard?" he cried.

"I don't know," Saulle said helplessly. He hugged Cavel. "I don't know."

***

Bashta wasn't far in body, but in his mind he was years away.

He huddled in a tree out of site of the clan men as memories of the deaths of his siblings assaulted him. His father, his friends, every member of his tribe gone in such a short time. It began slowly with a fever that came and went for months. No one in his tribe worried until the fever turned into a wet cough. Sometimes it went on for days, sometimes only hours before the black marks showed up on the victim's face and hands.

By that point the person was raving, coughing blood, spreading their sickness to everyone they touched. But everyone, everyone who came in contact with them once the black marks showed up died the same way. They marred the bodies after death, on the bodies of his loved ones that his mother refused to let him touch.

They had been away at the Temple to heal Bashta when it happened.

He had fallen out of a tree and cut his back, a long deep tear on a jagged branch. There were magical springs inside the Temple his people believed could purge wounds of the foul smelling ooze that sometimes came from bad wounds and when he became hot and his back swollen his mother took him to them. Alone, they were gone just a week and when they returned it was to a dead village and the sign of a plague marked into the very tree his father had fallen under as he warned them away before he died in front of them. Screaming Bashta had tried to go to him but his mother picked him up and fled, protecting her only remaining kitling as her mate had commanded her.

She had held on to her humanity after losing her mate for just long enough. For months she forced him to learn and grow strong, as he watched her fall deeper and deeper into that wild place that existed in all Carthera. She pulled away, her grip on her humanity fading. He didn't know what to do or say to help her as he dealt with his own fear and anguish at the deaths of their clan. The pain she felt from the loss of her bond became too much and one day when he woke up she was gone.

The last living link to his people had faded away in the night and he never saw her again. His screams had scared every animal around him but she didn't return to him. He waited for days in the nest before he was forced to admit to himself his mother was gone.

The only thing left to him was to protect the Temple, to take on the sacred duty his clan had always been charged with. His parents were black jaguars. They had been alphas. As their son, he had been schooled in the rites and duties since he was born and he swore he wouldn't fail. He would protect the Temple from all interlopers.

But that was before he saw the pain in Cavel's eyes.

Before his words brought back the agony and loss Bashta felt when his clan was decimated by a sickness no one could cure.

Was his dedication to tradition and the ancient ways his clan had followed since their charge began a risk to lives he had never known? Too much, it was too much. Overwhelmed, he rocked as he battled the questions and memories in his mind until he was too exhausted to think at all. His eyes slipped shut and he finally slept.

He wearily climbed out of the tree when the dawn rose and plodded back toward where he had left Cavel and his clan members. With his head down he didn't even notice the bodies until he tripped over the first one. It was Saulle. He had been on his side but the force from Bashta stumbling over him pushed him over on his back. Bashta's hands came up to cover his mouth as he gagged. His eyes darted around the camp. Insects buzzed over the bodies as he took halting steps closer to each one. Piscel, Mackent, Tarnel, Xanshun... All of them bloated and beginning to stink, their faces barely recognizable.

"No, no, no," Bashta whimpered as he approached a lone figure under a tree marked with words he could not read. That wasn't his black hair, it couldn't be him. The spirits would not have taken him away, they wouldn't. Reaching out with one trembling hand, not even noticing how much smaller than normal it was Bashta shook the man.

"Wake up!" he cried; his voice high and panicked, cracking as tears rolled down his face. "Don't leave me alone again, please. Please wake up, please." Bashta tugged hard on those wide shoulders, moaning as he pulled the body up. There was no resistance as he struggled with the man's weight. His dirty white shirt ripped and as Bashta fell backward the man slid sideways and fell to the ground too, staring eyes sunk deep in his skull, the expressive mouth and strong jaw covered in dried blood. Worst of all were the black smudges that marred the formerly smooth skin.

"No!" he screamed, "Oh No! No!" He couldn't look away, loud denials ringing through the trees.

"Bashta! Wake up!"

Bashta jerked, almost falling out of the tree. Only a large hand wrapping around his bicep kept him from losing his balance completely. He wrapped his legs around the thick branch under him and stared wide-eyed at Cavel. He stretched out an arm toward Cavel, barely touching his arm. He sighed when he touched him and felt his living warmth.

"How did you find me?"

"You were screaming." Cavel looked worried, "Are you okay?" Bashta glanced at the hand still wrapped around his arm, firm yet gentle. Just that contact was enough to keep his speeding heart rate from slowing.

"I... I had a dream." Bashta blushed as he admitted to panicking about something not real. He didn't want to admit that anything was so beyond his control.

"Sounds more like a nightmare." Cavel's thumb made slow circles on the arm it was cupping. Lost in each other's eyes, it was long minutes before either of them became aware of the searching men below them.

"How did you find me up here though?" Bashta asked quietly.

"We were looking for you anyway and then heard the screams. I couldn't feel you when all of a sudden your mind opened to me and I could sense your pain." Bashta flushed in embarrassment and looked distressed. "What did you dream about?" Cavel asked.

Bashta shook his head. He wouldn't think of it, it wasn't real. Cavel didn't push. He looked down at his scraped palms and changed the subject. "It wasn't easy climbing up here though. I don't know how you do it barefoot."

Bashta didn't want to talk about his dream but he latched on something Cavel said, something he desperately wanted to know more about. "You feel me too? What does that mean?" Bashta pulled away, huddling over his knees. "I'm so confused."

"I'm sorry Bashta; I don't want you to feel confused. I was trying to give you time. I should have explained things to you." Cavel sighed. "Let me go tell Saulle I found you and then we'll talk." Cavel slowly climbed down the tree, calling for Saulle who quickly pushed his way out of the brush by the river and met him a small distance from Bashta's tree. They had a quick, hushed conversation and then Cavel laboriously climbed back up into the tree.

"We could talk on the ground," Bashta offered.

"After I already climbed up here?" Cavel shook his head. "Besides, you feel safe up here."

Cavel took in a deep breath and let it go. "Bashta, what do you know about black jaguars?"

"I am one. My parents were both black jaguars, they were mates. My kitmates were all like me, black haired, though the rest of our clan was not. My mother said we would look like them when we got older, having the same markings when we found our destined mates. "

"Yes, all jaguars have yellow or reddish hair, except us. Carthera black jaguars always have black hair. It's the overt sign of what we are, separate, different. We are... alphas, leaders. It gives us a power that other jaguars do not have but black jaguars can only mate with black jaguars."

Bashta was surprised. "I didn't know that." He sat upright as a thought flitted across his mind. "Wait... Are you telling me we mated?"

"No, no," Cavel said in denial, "we haven't mated." Before Bashta could react to that Cavel went on. "We are mates though."

Bashta's eyes were huge and his mouth dropped open. "But... but..."

"It's okay," Cavel soothed him with a smooth voice. "I've been trying not to pressure you. There are things I don't understand either but I've accepted it, accepted that you are my mate, since the beginning." He looked at Bashta's body barely visible in the dim light and his eyes heated. "I've wanted you since I first scented you; it's like nothing I've ever felt before."

Bashta blushed. He'd felt attraction for Cavel too but he hadn't wanted to. Too overwhelmed, scared of getting the contact he craved and then losing it again, he had fought it. He knew what mates were but he didn't know what it meant to be one.

He spoke carefully, "What exactly are we supposed to do? I'm not sure I really understand."

"We are destined to be together. When mates meet we can feel it, there is this frission inside. I never understood it but the first time I came across your scent marker it was like something buzzed inside me. Then Saulle brought you into my tent and I knew. It's like I can sense you and you can sense me, two halves of a whole. We are linked mentally and physically already but we aren't bound yet. That's different. When we accept each other our clans will perform a ceremony to complete the mate bond. Only when that happens do we transform. I've overseen the bonding of many couples in my clan and they are all very happy."

Bashta's face fell. "I don't have a clan." His hands were clenched on the tree.

Cavel sighed. "I know. But I know you're my mate." He leaned forward and stroked Bashta's hand, relaxing his grip and twining their fingers together when he didn't pull away. "We'll work it out, somehow."

Bashta closed his eyes, the butterflies in his stomach made him feel excited and nervous at the same time. It was hard to breathe as he relished that small touch. Just the feel of that hand holding his firmly made him want more as he swayed closer to Cavel. More skin, more touching. He wasn't sure he was ready for it though. His eyes snapped open when he felt a small puff of air on his lips.

A small whimper escaped him. "Shhh," Cavel whispered, "trust me. I would never hurt you."

He moved slowly to close those few inches, staring into Bashta's wide eyes. As soon as their lips met Bashta's eyes fluttered shut. Soft, gentle brushes against his lips grew firmer until he felt Cavel's tongue licking at his closed mouth. He moaned, the opening giving Cavel the opportunity to smoothly stroke his probing tongue in and swirl it around Bashta's mouth.

Bashta gasped and pulled back. "What are you doing?"

"Don't you like it?"

Bashta looked down shyly. "I did," he said. Cavel leaned back in and brushed a tender kiss to his cheek. "I did too." Bashta turned his head and Cavel's lips slid over his mouth. This time Bashta's free hand came up and rested on Cavel's chest as the minutes passed while they kissed eagerly. Their tongues moved back and forth as they tasted each other, caressing and stroking until they were forced to stop to catch their breaths, panting quietly.

Cavel put one hand on Bashta's where it rested on his chest. "Do you feel my heart? Can you feel how fast it's pounding?"

Bashta smile grew, he wasn't the only one affected. "I wasn't sure if you would feel the same way I do."

Cavel's smile was rueful. "That and more, I think. I've waited for you for so long. I don't think I could live without touching you. I don't know how I held out this long without holding you every second I could."

"I probably would've let you," admitted Bashta. "If I had known it would feel that good."

"I didn't dare, not after the way you almost gelded me when I touched you in the tent."

Bashta could feel the heat creep up his neck and was thankful for the dim light. "I think I was more upset about the fact that I liked it. Females bare their necks, not males. It felt both wrong and right." He shivered at the memory of the chills that had shot through him when Cavel's hot lips had burned against his vulnerable neck.

"Mates are not more or less, Bashta. You will bare your neck to me but mine will be equally vulnerable to you. I lead my clan but when we mate you will lead them as well. You will not be beneath me like you seem to think," Cavel said earnestly. He seemed anxious for Bashta to believe that they were equals, partners.