Ice Planet Barbarians (Ice Planet Barbarians, #1)(24)

After a moment, he emerges from the cave and indicates it’s safe to come in. I join him, and it’s not much to see, the interior a small grotto hacked out of the rocks that opens up near the cliff wall and then snakes further back into the earth. There are supplies near the front, another leather door hanging, a few furs for warmth, and a small stack of what looks like cakes of mud and some wood. It’s cozier than anything I’ve seen recently, and it’s out of the wind. As Vektal pushes the leather covering over the entrance to block out the rest of the snow and wind, it’s dark inside.

But safe.

I’m safe. I shiver, and then I’m shaking as a sob escapes my throat.





VEKTAL


Not for the first time, I despair at how helpless my mate is. I’m utterly confused by her—if she knows nothing about the land, how did she get here? Even the metlaks didn’t know what to make of her. I’m furious at myself for letting her wander away. I’m furious that the metlaks could have hurt her more grievously than they did. I know of kits that have been torn apart by accidentally encountering a group of metlaks on the prowl.

Georgie, my precious mate, my resonance, fell right into an entire den of them. She could have been killed before I made it down to rescue her.

The thought has my hands shaking and my khui thrumming against my chest with an angry beat. How can I possibly take care of someone who is more helpless than a kit? Someone who demands to go into the dangerous mountains instead of letting me take her home to my people?

Who is my Georgie? How did she get here? Other than the metlaks and the sa-khui, there are no other people on this land. She is precious.

And I nearly lost her. I’m twisted in my own anger, stalking about the cave as I prepare a fire for my shivering mate. I stack wood and dung chips, rub the fire-making implements between my palms until I catch a spark, and then create a fire by feeding it tinder. When the flames begin to lick at the wood, I gesture that Georgie, shaking with cold, should move closer.

“Dankyew,” she says in a soft voice.

“I don’t understand you,” I growl at her. It’s another obstacle in the way of my mating. I want to tell Georgie that she is mine. That she is my resonance. That she’s safe with me and I won’t let any harm come to her if she’ll just trust me. That she is my light and my reason for being now, and that we shall create a hearth and family together. But I can tell her none of these things.

She sniffs loudly and moves a little closer to the fire, sticking her tiny, five-fingered hands out to warm them. Her bad wrist is an angry color. Maylak, the tribe healer, could cure this with a touch. But she is not here, and my Georgie must suffer. “Give me that,” I say gruffly, indicating that she should give me her injured hand. She probably hurt it worse during her fall, and I’m chagrined that my mate is so poorly cared for.

“Nowyurmadatmeeh,” she says and sniffs loudly again. Then, she bursts into tears.

“Ah, Georgie,” I murmur and pull her against me. Her face presses against my vest, and she sobs. I stroke her hair, now crunchy and hard with ice. She’s going to get sick. I’ve forgotten she has no khui to warm her and dragged her up one side of the mountain and down the next. She’s fragile, my small five-fingers. I chide myself for not taking better care of her. “It won’t happen again, my resonance,” I tell her, stroking her rounded cheek. “I shall take better care of you, starting now.”

And even though it’s callous of me to use all of the supplies here, I build the fire even higher. I don’t care if I’m sweating as long as my Georgie is warm and comfortable. And I hold her against me for what feels like forever. Her hands burrow under my clothing, seeking my warmer skin, and my cock grows hard at her small touches. But she’s still crying, and so I hold her and comfort her as best as I can, until the tears die away and she’s only sniffling her unhappiness.

Her hands are still under my clothing, though. My cock hasn’t forgotten this, and I ache with need, my khui thrumming in my chest. I want to make her happy. I want to make her strange, sweet face smile instead of cry.

So while she warms herself by the fire, I dote on my mate, like I should. I examine her wrist and then cut a strip from one of the furs, binding it tightly and splinting it against one of my bone knives. It will hold until I can take her to the healer. She gives me a grateful smile and points at another one of the bone knives on my vest.

“Kinnihafwon?”

I shake my head to indicate I don’t understand, and with gestures, she shows me she wants to hold it. Ah. She wants to defend herself. I give her one of the blades. I wear six, and now I am down to four. Tomorrow, I will show her how to use it and how to stab with it so if she is attacked by metlaks again, she will be able to fight back. They are cowardly creatures at heart and will run if endangered.

At the gifting of the knife, her smile widens and she beams happily at me, as if I have given her the greatest of treasures. “Iveel betterwit it.”

I nod, though I don’t know what she’s rambling about. Just that she’s smiling. It’s enough for me. I will do more, though. There are furs in this cave, furs left for comfort for hunting warriors who venture out this far. They’re stale and stiff with age, but they’re warm. When we leave in the morning, I will break the rules of hunting politeness and she will wear them as we travel. I won’t have her shivering any more.