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

Or bathing. I’m pretty sure his entire body is covered in a layer of dirt. If he doesn’t wear clothes, though, I guess there’s no point in bathing?

He watches me, eyes narrowed, and runs a stone along the edge of the knife, sharpening it. His movements are slow, and I can’t tell if it’s because he wants to seem threatening, or if he’s trying not to scare me. Given that he’s holding a knife? I’m going for threatening.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer, and I realize I’m talking in English. Whoops. I learned the old sa-khui tongue — sakh — while on the ship, so I try that instead. He doesn’t respond to it, either.

I…don’t know what to do. Is he deaf? He’s watching me, but he’s not responding to my attempts to talk to him.

“I’m Harlow,” I say. “Where are my friends?”

Again, there’s no response.

I press my hands flat on the ground. There’s a pebble under one palm, and I pick it up and flick it across the room to see if he reacts.

He follows the pebble and then frowns at me, a fierce snarl of bared teeth that makes me shiver. He’s not deaf. Okay, he’s just choosing not to talk to me.

Well, what the hell?

“Did Vektal send you?” I try. “Did Aehako and Haeden make it back to the caves? Have I been out for a long time?”

His gaze moves back to the knife and he runs the stone along the edge again, sharpening it.

“You can’t understand me at all, can you?” I’m shocked by this. There’s not another tribe of sa-khui, is there? But this man is alone, and he doesn’t understand the language of his people. I look around the small cave. Back in the tribal caves, each family has done their best to make their caves seem like home. Baskets and blankets fill the corners, and everywhere there are stored food, herbs, and daily implements.

Here, there’s not much of anything. There’re a few pouches tossed into one corner of the cave, but there are no blankets, no bed, no fire pit, no nothing.

“Do you live here?” I whisper.

The stranger stares at me for a long moment, and then he slowly gets to his feet and begins to approach me.

Eep. I push back against the cave wall, trying to shrink away from him. There’s nowhere for me to go, and I cringe as he stalks toward me, closing my eyes. There’s nothing but the sound of our two cooties singing to each other, and my chest vibrates from the force of mine.

Oh no, no no no.

Not this guy.

But there’s no denying that my body responds when he stands near me. I can feel my skin flush with need, and moisture begins to seep between my legs, as if I’m completely and utterly turned on at the moment. I mean, sure he’s big and brawny and could probably carry a girl like she’s nothing—

Oh God. This is really bad. Like, worse than worst-case-scenario bad.

I absolutely do not know what to do. My pulse speeds with a mixture of anxiety and response to my khui, and I hate that it starts to pound between my legs. Georgie wasn’t lying when she said that resonating was like Spanish Fly on crack. It feels urgent, like I should grab this guy - this filthy - stranger and fling him to the ground and impale myself on his dick.

And then what? Have his baby? No thank you, cootie.

I squeeze my thighs together tightly, willing my body to calm the fuck down.

Fingers touch my hair, and even though he’s gentle, my head still throbs. I squeeze one eye open, ready to pull away, and realize I’m pretty much face to face with his erect cock. I stare at it for a long moment, my mouth dry. I’m no virgin, and like any girl, I really like the sight of a nice cock. This guy – whoever he is – has a really really nice one, but that just might be the cootie talking. He’s not circumcised, of course, but there’s no denying that he’s just the right length and girth, and my traitorous mind wonders how that would feel.

My cootie thrums harder in my chest. Jesus. I feel like I’m being betrayed on all sides.

He touches my head wound and I jerk away. “Ow!” I slap at his hands, unable to help myself.

The man grunts and pads away on bare feet, seemingly unconcerned with my reaction. I scowl at him and touch my wound myself. It’s covered in some sort of gloppy paste, probably a native remedy of some kind.

“Lucky me,” I mutter.

He grunts again and returns to his crouch across the cave. He doesn’t pick up the knife again, but just watches me, his hands on his knees.

I look over at the mouth of the cave. It’s open to the world, and I can see snow gleaming outside in the thin sunlight. Most sa-khui have decorative hides stretched on bone frames that they push in front of the cave opening to give the semblance of privacy or to keep out the harsh weather. Not this guy. “You a hardcore survivalist or something?” He doesn’t respond, and I sigh. “Of course you’re quiet. I don’t suppose you can tell me what happened to Aehako and Haeden? The two wounded guys?”

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t move.

I pantomime horns. “Two big men? With me? Look like you?”

Nothing but a stare.

I worry my lip, thinking. I can’t stay here if they’re wounded and waiting for me to return. What if they die? I don’t think they trust the computer’s technology enough to go back into the ship and ask it to fix their wounds.