The Barbarian Before Christmas (Ice Planet Barbarians #17.5)(19)

But some of the newcomers—like the red twins—are fucking helpless, and it's not for lack of trying. I'll never forget the look on Raahosh's face when he took them out hunting and they massacred a poor dvisti like it insulted their mom or something. They're still grasping the whole “you kill it because it's to be eaten” not “kill for funsies.” Makes me wonder where the hell they came from.

Of course, that's unfair. They've been nothing but devoted to Angie, who's almost as pregnant as we are.

They're an interesting mess of a tribe, the Icehome group, but I know Raahosh feels like I do—we'd feel guilty as hell if we went home and they struggled to survive. And really, the beach is not a terrible place to be. The food is plentiful, and the brutal season is mild here compared to back home in Croatoan village. My problem is that if we stay here too much longer, we won't be home until the brutal season is over…and that means months and months without my baby girls.

And now I feel like crying all over again. I wish someone could haul them out here so we could be together.

Harlow sniffs, lost in thought, and I know she's struggling even more than I am. She's lost the ship—which she took almost as hard as Mardok did—and her Rukhar is back home safe with Gail and the others. She's finding it hard to fill her time because she's not a big hunter, and she doesn't sew much. Her thing has always been tinkering with the ship, and now that it's gone, she's got a lot of hours to fill. "Don't start bawling or you're going to make me start again," I warn her.

"I'm not crying," she says, and she's a terrible liar. "I just…feel bad for Rukh, you know?" She gives a teary giggle. "He misses Rukhar, too, but every time he tries to talk to me, I'm bawling or complaining about how much everything hurts right now." She puts her hands to her lower back and winces as she stretches. "I'm not much fun to be around."

"Yeah, me either. Raahosh hasn't gotten a blowjob in dayyyys." My poor mate.

"Liz!" Harlow chokes on her laughter. "TMI."

"What? Don't tell me you're getting all frisky with Rukh? Please, girl. This isn't my first baby. About this time, the last thing I want is for him to touch me. Add in all the emotions and I'm a fucking disaster to be around." I run my arrow along the sharpening stone and shake my head. "It's a wonder he hasn't run away screaming. But it does explain why he's been off hunting so much lately." Ever since Vektal and the others left on the dragon, I thought my mate would be spending more cuddle-time with me to comfort me. Nope. He's found every excuse he can to get the hell out of Dodge.

And I get it. I do.

Well, kind of. I'm also pissy about it, because that's who I am. But I understand. He needs the distractions.

Doesn't mean he's getting a blowjob anytime soon with that attitude, though.

But I love the guy, warts and all. He's kind of a bear sometimes, but he's my bear and I know I can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. It's why we jive so well together. We both exhaust other people, but he's never boring to me, and I suspect the same with him. After so many seasons of being mated, I still get turned on when he gives me one of those slow smiles, and his scars are as sexy as ever. Hence all the babies, I suppose. I chuckle to myself at the thought. I guess he's lucky I'm just as horny as he is.

"Hmm?" Harlow asks, looking over at me, wondering what's so funny.

I open my mouth to speak when there's a loud, off-key noise. It sounds like…well, this planet doesn't have walruses, but if it did, it'd sound like they were mating outside of my tent. I immediately forget what I'm about to say and just stare at Harlow in surprise.

"Er…" she says, and cocks her head to the side. "What was that?"

Another strange sound erupts from outside, and then I realize there are words. And a tune. Kind of.

"Dear god," I whisper to Harlow. "I think this is a song."

"Shangle bells?" she adds, voice low, and covers her mouth to muffle her horrified giggle.

It is “Jingle Bells.” Kind of. A really slow, off-key version that's clearly meant to offend our ears. I get up from my seat and move to the front of the tent, pulling back the flap. Outside, Rukh and Raahosh stand, dvisti-fat candle bowls in their hands, and “sing.” I try not to smile, but it's evident that my mate has no idea what the fuck he's singing, because it morphs about a third of the way through from “Jingle Bells” into “White Christmas,” full of mispronunciations and wrong notes and sa-khui interpretations.

It's beyond words.

It's…the nicest thing Raahosh has ever done for me. He knows I've been sad that I'm not there for No-Poison Day with the girls. I know what he's up to, that sneaky bastard. He's trying to bring me Christmas. You can’t be mated to a guy for so long without figuring out exactly how his mind works. I love it. I love that he's trying so hard. And when he tries to hit a high note—who knew there was a high note in White Christmas?—I do my best to hold back my wince.

As the “song” ends, Harlow claps her hands and gives a delighted little laugh. "Oh, that was wonderful!"

"You like?" Rukh asks, coming inside. He offers her the candle. "We learned carols for our mates."