Barbarian Mine (Ice Planet Barbarians #4)(32)

Another human scurries around my cave, a female. I want to snarl at her to leave, to go back to the bad ones, but she’s got a bladder of water and she dampens a square of leather and brushes it over Har-loh’s face. She looks upset, too. She wants to help.

It’s only because of that I let her stay.

My Har-loh is sick. I hold her close, stroking her jaw and neck, waiting for her to wake up. At her side, the female dabs the wet square on her cheek.

“Has she done this before?” the female asks.

I want to snarl at her to go away, but I don’t know what to do to help. Maybe she does. So I shake my head in answer.

“Has she had problems with the baby? Spotting? Nausea?”

I don’t know some of these words and bare my teeth, holding her closer. “She is fine.”

“Bullshit.” She doesn’t stop to explain the word. “Look at her face. Her eyes are like hollows. She looks tired and even I can tell she’s hurting. She rubs her side constantly.”

“She is carrying a kit,” I snarl.

“So am I! And I’m not sick like her. Something is wrong.” The female all but yells at me. She gestures at her belly and I see a rounded bump there for the first time. She’s right – her face doesn’t have the same exhausted look that my Har-loh does.

I cradle Har-loh closer to me, worried. She…is pale. And she has difficulty waking some mornings. I’ve noticed that she struggles, but I don’t know how to fix it. It concerns me that this female sees it right away. Have I been turning a blind eye to my mate because I am afraid of what I will see? Of losing her?

I hold her closer, agonizing. I will die if I lose her. She is the only thing worth living for. Now that I have Har-loh, I can’t go back to the loneliness of before. I cannot bear the thought of a day without her smile, her touch, her scent. Her small, cold hands on my skin as I wake up.

“What do I do?” The words escape me before I can bite them back.

The female purses her lips, and for a moment she looks so strangely similar to Har-loh that it fills me with longing. I stroke my mate’s sweaty face again. “She needs to come back to the tribe.”

Leave me? Leave here and go with the bad ones? I bare my teeth at the female for suggesting it. “No!”

“You think it’s safe to be out here in the middle of nowhere with her?” The small female smacks my arm as if trying to beat her words into me. “What are you going to do if the baby comes early? What are you going to do if she starts bleeding and doesn’t stop? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a lot of sa-khui and human interbreeding going on around here, buddy. This shit is all new and we don’t know what’s going to happen.”

I stroke Har-loh’s soft cheek. We are different peoples. I didn’t think that it could hurt my mate, but now my heart clenches with worry. Survival instinct wars with the need to keep Har-loh safe. All my life, I have been warned never to approach the bad ones. Now this small female that has the same flat features as Har-loh is telling me I need to take her to their den?

I cannot comprehend the thought.

The woman’s voice gentles after a moment. “Who are you, anyhow? Where are your people?”

“I have no people.”

“You had to come from somewhere.” She tilts her head and studies me. “Do you have a brother? Because you look really familiar to me.”

I say nothing, because she is asking too many questions. Instead, I snatch the cloth from her hand and press it to Har-loh’s face. “Bring your healer here,” I tell the female after a moment. I will endure the presence of a healer if it means Har-loh will be taken care of, but no one else.

The female makes an exasperated sound. “The healer isn’t here. She’s back home with the others because there are several pregnant women and not all of them are having an easy time.”

There are others in their tribe that might be suffering like my Har-loh? They would know what to do? I look up at her, torn.

She holds a flat, five-fingered hand in the air. “Okay. I can tell you’re not big into trust. Can I bring someone down here? My mate?”

I crouch over Har-loh defensively and reach for my knife. “No one come!” I loathe the thought of even one of the bad ones finding our cave home. Bad enough that this female knows. We will have to leave if she says anything. We must avoid the bad ones—

Except the bad ones have a healer.

I’m torn.

“My mate will be worried over me like you are over Harlow” she says, casting a concerned glance down at my unconscious woman again. “Please. Let me bring him and I think if you talk to him, you’ll feel more comfortable.”

“I not trust bad ones,” I grit out.

“Bad ones?” She sounds taken aback. “O-kay. That’s unexpected. I promise he’s not bad, though. He…actually reminds me a lot of you.” Her expression turns up in a smile. “I will tell him no weapons, all right?”

I hesitate, but Har-loh moans and stirs in my arms at that moment. If these people know how to get Har-loh to a healer, I must do whatever it takes to protect my woman and the kit she carries.

My mind flashes with memories of my father, pointing at distant hunters. You must always avoid the bad ones, my son. Do not trust. Do not approach them.