I made up my mind somewhere between watching Aureon teach the cubs how to start a fire without flint and seeing him fall asleep mid-sentence while rocking the newest cub to sleep. He would be my sixth mate. My last mate. Six was more than enough for any sane person, and probably three too many by the standards of the world I had left behind.
I sat on the flat stone behind our house, the one that caught the afternoon sun and warmed like a heat blanket and let my mind wander through the strange geography of my life. In my old world, in that cramped apartment with the shaky rail and the nosey neighbor who always wanted to know what was going on, this would have been impossible. People didn’t collect spouses like trading cards where I came from. Sure, polygamy existed, little bubbles of alternative living that floated at the edges of mainstream society, but I hadn’t been raised in those bubbles. I had been raised in the church of monogamy, about finding "the one" and building a neat little nuclear family with a white picket fence and 2.5 children.
And yet here I was, collecting mates like some women collected shoes, and adapting with the terrifying speed of a cockroach surviving nuclear winter.
I had always been optimistic; that was my mother’s word for it, though she usually said it with a sigh and a shake of her head, like optimism was a chronic condition I refused to treat. When I had moved across the country for Hyunwoo, leaving behind my family, my friends, my job, everything familiar and safe; for a guy I had met online; my mother had called it "reckless." I told her, "he’s the one." The one, it turned out, had a sense of humor. The path it took had rewarded my trust with a death sentence and reincarnation into a world where people had tails and I was expected to bear children for multiple husbands.
If I had been someone else; someone like my mother, practical and grounded and sensible as a brick wall; I would have been like a fish out of water. Gasping, flopping, doomed. Not that she wouldn’t have adapted eventually; my mother was tough as old boots and twice as reliable. But it would have taken her longer. She would have fought it, raged against the unfairness, demanded to speak to the manager of the afterlife.
Me? I just... adjusted. Rolled with the punches. Ducked when the universe threw another curveball and asked, "what’s next?" with a smile that was sometimes genuine and sometimes desperate, but always present.
Sure, I missed home. I missed air conditioning and ice cream and the internet at 3 AM when I couldn’t sleep. I missed my mother’s voice, her hands kneading dough in the kitchen, the way she hummed off-key while folding laundry. I wished; ached, to see her again, to hug her and tell her I was okay, that I had found a strange kind of happiness in this wild place.
But that life was gone. I was dead, probably cremated by now, my ashes scattered or boxed or however they handled things. Forgotten by everyone except maybe my mother, who would still set a place for me at Thanksgiving for years because she couldn’t bear to stop.
I had one regret, though, persistent as a toothache. I wished I knew what had happened to that absolute asshole Hyunwoo. Had he been punished for my death? Had he faced consequences for what had happened, for his betrayal, for the way he had watched me fall three stories and die on the pavement below? Or had he simply moved on, finally free to be with that woman without sneaking around anymore? The not-knowing gnawed at me sometimes, late at night when the cubs were asleep and my mates surrounding me.
"Momma, what are you doing?"
Atlas’s voice shattered my reverie like a stone through glass. I turned, blinking back to the present, and found my oldest child watching me with those serious golden eyes that were so much like Ravin’s. He was growing so fast, still clinging to the last roundness of babyhood in his cheeks, but becoming angular and curious and real in ways that surprised me every morning.
I smiled, reaching out to ruffle the soft fur between his ears. My cute, serious, wonderful oldest child. I still couldn’t believe I was a mother. The word felt enormous and terrifying and wonderful, like wearing a crown made of birds; beautiful but constantly at risk of flying away.
It also made me think of Hyunwoo, in that sideways way thoughts sometimes connect. We had rarely used protection. I had wanted children, tracked my ovulation like a second job, took prenatal vitamins for years just in case, and he had complained that condoms "ruined the vibe," as if his momentary inconvenience outweighed my entire life’s plan. And yet I had never gotten pregnant. Not once in three years of active trying, of peeing on sticks, of joining TTC forums and lurking on Reddit threads at 2 AM, of crying into my pillow when my period arrived right on schedule like a cruel monthly joke.
Had he been impotent? Had I been? Or had the universe simply known, in its infinite and sometimes cruel wisdom, that a child trapped in that relationship would have been a tragedy? Thank god for small mercies. The thought of leaving a child behind with him, of my baby growing up with that coward as their only parent; it would have destroyed me more than dying had.
"Mommy is just thinking how lucky she is to have you guys with me," I told him honestly.
Atlas’s serious face broke into a smile bright enough to rival the sun. He pressed himself against my hand, purring loud enough to vibrate my palm, and I felt the last of my dark thoughts evaporate like morning mist.
There was no point dwelling on the past. I had a family now. Mates who loved me; six of them, if I counted Aureon, which I was increasingly doing in my private thoughts. Seven children total, counting the newborns, a chaotic, beautiful tribe of my own making. I had built something here, something solid and real and mine.
Aureon arrived later that afternoon, his white hair catching the light like spun silver as he crossed the clearing toward our house. He moved with the careful precision of someone still healing but too proud to show it, and my chest tightened with that familiar, complicated affection.
I intercepted him before he could join the others, taking his arm and steering him toward the storage shed where we kept the dried herbs. Privacy, I needed privacy for this conversation, and also the walls to muffle what I suspected was coming.
"I decided," I started, the words heavy and momentous in my mouth.
Aureon went absolutely still. Then, like a dam breaking, the questions erupted from him in a torrent so rapid I could barely track them:
"What did you decide? Are you rejecting me? Are you considering me? Can I be your mate now? How much longer do I need to wait? Is it because I’m too young? Is it because I’m a tiger? Is it the tail? I can work on the tail; I can make it more impressive; do you need me to slay something? A bear? I can fight a bear. Two bears. Three bears and a cheetah. Just tell me what you want, I’ll get it, I’ll do it, I’ll—"
He was actually bouncing on his toes, his golden eyes wide and desperate, his hands fluttering around like he couldn’t decide whether to grab my shoulders or wring his own neck. He looked like a caffeinated squirrel who had just discovered philosophy and also possibly amphetamines.
"Aureon," I tried, but he was already spinning in a small circle, talking to himself now.
"—maybe I need to prove myself more, yes, that’s it, I’ll patrol the borders every night, I’ll bring you gifts, rare flowers from the mountain peaks, flowers, definitely flowers, and maybe a new house? Do you need a bigger house? I can build—no, I can’t build."
"Aureon!"
He stopped mid-spin, nearly falling over, and stared at me with the hopeful, terrified expression of a man who had just realized he might have been monologuing aloud for several minutes.
I took a breath. "I decided to consider you."
Silence. Blessed, golden silence. He stared at me, mouth slightly open, processing.
"But" I continued, holding up a hand because I could see him preparing to launch into another speech, possibly involving poetry or blood oaths or spontaneous combustion, "I want to deal with your uncle’s betrayal first. Settle that threat. Make sure we’re safe. And then..." I let the word hang, heavy with promise. "Then we can talk about making it official. Will you be okay with that?"
Aureon’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. He looked like a fish that had suddenly discovered it had opinions about water.
"So," he said slowly, as if tasting each word, "you’re not saying no."
"I’m not saying no."
"You’re saying... later."
"I’m saying later. When things are stable."
"Later," he repeated, and then, to my absolute shock, he sat down. Just... sat. Right there on the dirt floor of the storage shed, his legs folding beneath him like a puppet with cut strings. He looked up at me, his expression cycling through approximately fourteen different emotions in three seconds, and then he started to laugh.
It was a slightly hysterical laugh, the kind that came from relief, but it was genuine. He laughed until he had to wipe his eyes, until his sides hurt, until he was gasping for breath.
"Later," he said one more time, grinning up at me like I had just handed him the moon wrapped in ribbons. "I can do later. Later is... later is not no. Later is a promise. Later is hope with a calendar."
He scrambled to his feet, suddenly all energy again, and grabbed my hands in his. "I’ll wait. I’ll wait however long you need. I’ll wait through wars and uncles and whatever else the world throws at us. I’ll be the most patient tiger in history. I’ll meditate. I’ll learn patience from the rocks. Rocks are very patient. I’ll be rock-like. But excited rock. An excited, patient rock that is definitely going to be your mate eventually."
He was already moving toward the door, practically vibrating with renewed purpose. "I need to go train. I need to be ready. I need to be worthy of later. Later requires preparation. I’ll see you at dinner!"
And then he was gone, a white blur disappearing into the afternoon light, leaving me standing in the storage shed with a smile I couldn’t quite suppress.
An excited, patient rock. That was either the worst or best description of a suitor I had ever heard.
I suspected, with a warmth spreading through my chest that felt suspiciously like happiness, that it was probably both.
---
I was feeding Levy when Ravin appeared at the doorway, his massive frame blocking the afternoon light that streamed through the entrance. The newborn suckled greedily, her tiny paws kneading against my skin with the instinctive urgency of all hungry infants. I looked up at my first mate, the male who had started this entire journey, who had bonded himself to me when I was still a confused girl from another world stumbling through the forest. He stood there with his golden hair catching the light, his expression serious in that way that meant he was turning something over in his mind, examining it from every angle like a warrior planning a campaign.
I smiled, shifting Levy to my other side. "What is it?"
He didn’t move from the doorway at first, just watched us with those amber eyes that had seen me at my worst and my best. "Did you talk to the tiger prince?"
No preamble. No small talk. Just Ravin being Ravin, cutting straight to the bone of the matter.
"I did," I said, adjusting Levy’s position as she made small, contented sounds against my skin.
"What did he say? Or what did you say?"
He finally stepped into the room, moving with that predator’s grace that never quite left him, even in our own home. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze flickered to the window and back to me. He was worried, I realized. Worried about what I had decided, worried about what it meant for our family, worried about the war that loomed on our horizon like a storm that wouldn’t break.
"I told him I was considering him," I said, shrugging as if it were a casual thing, as if I hadn’t just upended the careful balance of our household with three words.
Ravin’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding his features. "I thought you decided to accept him?"
Levy had finished eating, her small body going limp with that particular satisfaction that only a full belly brings to a newborn. I carefully pulled my nipple free, wiping her mouth with a soft cloth before laying her down in the nest of furs beside her two sleeping brothers. They were curled together like puppies, their tiny chests rising and falling in synchronized rhythm. I tucked the edges of the fur around them, ensuring they were warm and secure, before turning my full attention to my curious lion mate.
"Yes, I have accepted him," I said, keeping my voice low so as not to wake the sleeping newborn cubs. "But I want to deal with his uncle first before I make it official. He’s okay with that. I just want us to have some peace before I decide to take another mate."
Ravin crossed the room in two strides and settled beside me on the floor, his warmth radiating against my side. He took my hand in his, his calloused fingers tracing patterns against my palm before he pressed my knuckles to his lips. The gesture was tender, intimate, a reminder of the bond we shared that went deeper than words or ceremonies.
"I will support whatever you decide," he said, his voice rumbling against my skin. "You know that. But I worry about the timing. About the danger."
"News of the tiger prince’s death should be reaching the tiger tribe soon," he continued, his eyes darkening with thought. "We will get word from our scouts any day now. And when we do..."
He paused, and I could see the plan forming behind his eyes, the strategic mind that had made him one of the most respected warriors in our tribe working through possibilities and outcomes.
"What is this?" I asked, recognizing that look. It was the same look he got before a hunt, before a battle, before he did something clever and slightly terrifying.
Ravin leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that barely stirred the air between us. "I think the best way to get the uncle to come is to have him confess himself. We’ll make it look like Aureon is dead. A tragic end to the prince who came to our lands. When Cyrus hears the news, he will come to ’pay his respects,’ to grieve publicly, to solidify his claim to the throne. And when he arrives..." Ravin’s lips curved into a smile that was all teeth and predatory anticipation. "We’ll catch him in his own lie. Force him to confess before the tiger chief and his own people. Let him bury himself with his own words."
I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was a dangerous plan. Brilliant, but dangerous. If it failed, we would have made an enemy of the most powerful tiger in the northern tribes. If it succeeded, we would expose a murderer and possibly prevent a war.
"Ravin," I breathed, squeezing his hand tight. "That’s... that’s either genius or madness."
"Sometimes," he said, pressing a kiss to my temple, "they’re the same thing."