Ice Planet Barbarians (Ice Planet Barbarians, #1)(15)

I’m hit with a sense of loss so strong it makes me bare my teeth. This . . . this cannot happen. How is it that she cannot resonate to me? That we are not connected? It is as if I have found my other half after so long…and she is dead to me. The thought chokes me. To lack a khui is a death sentence. To see Shorshie so vibrant and so doomed makes my soul ache.

But no. She is my mate. My other half. I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep her.





GEORGIE


He’s got fire. That’s a big plus in my book. I rub my hands close to the flames and bask in its warmth. It’s driving away the chill from the outside. The wind is whistling through the door flap, and I can see it’s getting dark outside, but I’m decently warm in this cave as long as I’m near the fire. Guiltily, I think of Liz and Kira and the others. Surely they can stay warm by huddling together, can’t they?

I look up as Vektal begins to pace in the small cave. He looks troubled, and that makes me feel edgy. It’s like I’ve done something wrong, and I’ve no clue what. He keeps purring at me, so I thought he was happy? But I guess not.

My stomach growls, and I press a hand to it. Time for a seaweed bar. I check the pockets of my stolen jumpsuit, but I don’t find anything and begin to panic. Now I’ve lost my food and my weapon. The only things I’ve got left are the boots that pinch my feet and the jumpsuit. Man, I am shitty at this exploring thing. Ugh.

He moves and kneels next to me, and I instinctively shrink back. I give Vektal a wary look. His mouth felt good on me a short time ago, but I know what he wants and I’m leery of him standing too close.

But he only gestures at my stomach. “Kuuuusk?” There are a wealth of tones in that word that I won’t be able to emulate. It’s like he’s doing some weird vibrating thing in the back of his throat.

“Hungry,” I say to him and pat my stomach. Then I mime eating.

He points at my teeth and asks another question. Right. Something about them bothers him. I bare them to show him they’re fine, and he bares his own in response to me.

Fangs. Of course he’s got fangs. His canines are three times the size of mine, and they look brutal. No wonder he’s mystified by my short, blunt teeth. “Hope those are for chewing vegetables,” I tell him brightly.

He pulls off a fur cape and boy, am I glad to see that it’s clothing and not part of him. I can handle the horns, I think. But I’m glad that the shaggy fur isn’t his. Looking at him again, I see that a lot of his bulk might be clothing. That’s good. There’s no disguising that he’s seven feet tall, though.

I watch as he undresses, wary. “I hope you didn’t mistake my stomach growling for nookie-time.”

The fur cape goes to the floor of the cave, and my eyes open wide at the sight of his clothing underneath. I think it’s leather, and it’s all a similar soft bluish-gray shade that makes me think of a cloudy day. It also doesn’t look very warm. His arms are bare, and his chest is covered by a vest that seems to be made entirely of pockets and laces. It holds a few wicked-looking bone knives strapped to his chest. He’s got a lot of flesh exposed despite the blizzard raging outside, and I wonder just how warm that stupid cape is.

And if I can steal it.

“Probably a bad idea, Georgie,” I tell myself. “This guy’s your only buddy at the moment.”

Even if he does want to just lick my pussy. I clamp my thighs together tightly at the memory and try not to blush. I go back to ogling the alien. His arms are bare and show a crazy amount of corded muscle. They’re enormous and intimidating, and I imagine the pectorals under the leather vest are equally as staggering.

He pulls a strap from over one shoulder, and I see that in addition to the myriad buckles and pouches, he’s got a bag slung across his chest. My stomach growls again. He might have food.

Real food. Not seaweed bars.

My mouth waters, and I clasp my hands together tightly to keep from reaching for him. I’ve never been so hungry in my life. He opens his satchel and produces a bladder of some kind that must be a water skin along with a leather-wrapped package. He hands it to me, and I unwrap it. There in the wrappings are a few thick bars of what looks like meat mixed with an oatmeal of some kind. Travel rations. Has to be. I tremble and look up at him. “Is this for me?”

“Kuuus-kah,” he says in that weird language of his, and he mimes breaking off a piece and eating it.

I could kiss him right now, fangs and all. “Thank you,” I say and break off a large piece. I don’t care if I seem greedy or not. I’m starving. I cram the entire piece into my mouth and begin to chew.

Right away, I can tell it’s a mistake.

The taste is . . . well, awful is the kindest word I can think of. It’s like I’ve bitten into a package of jalapeno peppers mixed with a vile, mealy texture. The spices are so strong that my nose and eyes immediately water. I cough, desperately trying to swallow the mouthful I’ve got, but it’s burning my tongue. I end up choking and spitting out half the food into my hand, all the while the alien looks on curiously.

It’s brutal. I gag and cough for a moment more, until he pushes the skin into my hand and barks out a short word. I cautiously take a sip, afraid of what it’ll taste like. To my relief, the water is cool and refreshing, and has a masked hint of citrus to the taste. I guzzle it with relief, and my choked coughing slowly abates.