Far From Home: The Tribal Chief's Mate- a M/M fantasy romance

7- For Always

SRIN'YETE—

Nonononononononononononononono.

"No!" I screamed, dragging Jacob's limp, soaked body out of the water and up onto the rocky shore. "No! No no no no no no no no no!"

I fell back, unable to move another inch. Ignoring the yelling I could barely hear from the top of the cliff, Jacob's tribe mates, horrified that their Chief was now lying prone on a beach—

Not dead, I begged to anyone, anything, listening. I'll do anything. Anything. He can't be dead. He can't be. Not like this. Not because of me.

I pushed against Jacob and screamed wordlessly when he flopped a little but didn't breathe.

I forced myself up and made a big fist with both of my hands, my fingers clenched together. I lifted myself up, then slammed both fisted hands down against Jacob's chest. His body jerked, but nothing else.

I screamed again, then again, as over and over I slammed my fists down on his chest, using the weight of my body to force breath into his lungs.

The horse hooves were getting louder and louder as I screamed over and over, each scream slamming hard down against Jacob's chest. My lungs burned and my chest heaved, sweat or saltwater, probably tears, blinded me, but I ignored it all.

I bent down, pressing my lips harshly against his cold, blue mouth, and forced air down his throat.

I was alive, because Jacob had taken the brunt of the fall.

I was alive, because he wasn't breathing.

"No!" I screamed as, once more, I slammed my entire body down against his chest. Then I was breathing into his mouth again, then slamming into him, and back and forth until...

Finally, gods finally, his chest heaved and he spit and gurgled water up and out of his mouth.

I sobbed, yanking him onto his side so he could heave the water up and out of his lungs. I shook violently as he laid back down and stared up at me, at my blotchy, snotty, swollen face, and smiled weakly.

"I told... you," he gasped out between heaves of breath. "Join me in... life, or I'll... follow you... to death."

I sobbed and shook my head as the tribe rode up— nearly two dozen men and women who all looked relieved to see their Chief alive. I kissed his cheek, then each eye, his forehead, peppering his entire face and most of his neck in soft, soaking wet kisses, and he weakly laced his fingers in the hair at the back of my head, holding me against him.

"You stupid, stupid man," I muttered between kisses. "How could you...? You idiot. I hate you. I hate you so much."

Jacob's chuckle was pained when I pulled away.

"I love you too, my young mate," he said with a groan.

JACOB—

I was carried back to Eyatka on a stretcher put together with hearty wood and a bit of magic on Yalsa's part, if I wasn't mistaken. Yalsa was quick to scold me about the concussion and two broken ribs and the broken clavicle she'd healed. But I was alive, my mate was alive and refusing to leave my side, so a few broken bones was a small price to pay.

We were met with solemn, humble greetings, and no one even looked askance at Srin.

Und, Estin, and Joy were gone, but they were the only ones. Though, I was told later by Dierd'a, they had tried to convince many to go with them and had been shocked when no one did. The vitriol against my mate had been perpetrated mostly by the three of them, and with them gone, I had hope that my mate's place would be solidified in the tribe.

Especially if they saw how well he cared for me.

Yalsa walked Srin through waking me every hour and asking me questions, easy ones that may confuse me if my brain had damage from the concussion. I was drugged and my bones were healed with Yalsa's magic, still a little sore, but put back together, but my mate took her words and my health very seriously.

Each time he woke me, it was with a hot mouth swallowing my prick, or teeth nibbling at my nipples. And, despite my age and the potions Yalsa had forced on me, despite my recent injuries and the emotional upheaval of the day, each time I woke, I orgasmed down Srin's throat before he jacked himself to completion over my belly or against my lips, or against his hand, his palm smooth, his other hand working my balls.

Just after dawn, I woke to him straddling me, then sitting down on my cock, impaling himself completely in one smooth backwards stroke. His hips moved languidly, almost lazily, as our fingers entwined and he used my arms as leverage to thrust his hips back and forth and around.

"I love you, arayna," I whispered huskily up at him. A tear dripped down his cheek as I spoke, followed by more as I continued. "I love your scars, and I love your strength. I love your soul and I love your sweet heart. I love your past, and your present, and I'll love you for always."

He sobbed as he came, untouched, against my stomach, his ass clenching around me and drawing one final orgasm from my exhausted, wrecked body. He fell limp against me and I wrapped my arms around him, our bodies hot, our chests heaving, but comfortable in each other's embrace. 

"I love you, Jake," he whispered against my chest just as sleep claimed me again.