Barbarian's Touch: A SciFi Alien Romance (Ice Planet Barbarians Book 8) (10 page)

One thing’s for sure - I never purred for Hassen like I do for Rokan.

I rinse the berry lather out of my hair with the last of the water, and I feel a hundred times cleaner. Rokan’s not back, so I toss the used water out into the snow, then hurry back into the cave to sit by the fire and re-thaw the frost off my wet hair. I finger-comb it and hum to myself, waiting for him to return. My body is flushed and my nipples feel incredibly tight. I’m pretty sure if I put my hand down my pants, I’d be wet.

And I don’t know what to do.

Masturbation seems the most likely response, but that feels like a slippery slope - what if getting myself off only makes things worse? I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m constantly amped up around Rokan. At first I thought it was because of the coo-ee, but I wasn’t turned on when around Hassen. The opposite, really. And Kira didn’t seem like she was in a constant state of ecstasy. So the coo-ee can’t be like Spanish Fly, can it?

It’s only around Rokan that I’m constantly aroused. Maybe he just does it for me. They say when you know, you know. Maybe my body just knows he’s gonna be everything my virgin mind has been dreaming of.

I’ve been scared to make the first move, imagining that he’ll look at me like I’m crazy. He’s always been so careful of me.
Friend
, he calls himself, and uses the gesture.

Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of being friends. Because it’s clear from his reaction - and mine - that something is going on between us, and I’m intrigued enough to want to know more.

I consider how I’m going to broach the subject as I wait for my hair to dry - the right signals to use, the right way to approach things. When he returns, though, his face is troubled and he has another fresh kill that he sets down near the fire.

Food
? I sign. I’m still full from the last critter.

He nods and points at the flat rocks surrounding the fire, then gestures at the smoke rising from the coals. Ah. We’re going to smoke it. Then he makes the travel gesture and begins to gut the creature.

I wrinkle my nose in distaste as he dresses the kill. There are innards coming out and blood on his hands and a focused, determined look on his face. All right, maybe now is not the time to talk about flirting.

And if we’re traveling tomorrow? It might not be the time, either. Not if we’re heading toward my good buddy Hassen.

I’ll be patient and wait, then. And if I stare a little hard at his broad shoulders while he works? Well, no one would blame a girl.

* * *

I
dream
all kinds of impossibly dirty things about Rokan. Dirty things involving tails, horns, his fangs, and lots of kissing. I’m disappointed when I wake up, because I want to go back to those dreams. But I force myself to sit up and greet the day.

The fire’s nearly out and Rokan’s already moving about the cave, packing things and cleaning up. I want to help, but I feel like I’ll just be in the way, so I sit patiently and wait for him to notice me.

He finishes rolling up a fur and then looks over in my direction. His entire face lights up and the grin he gives me is staggering. Whew. It just got hot in here. I resist the urge to fan myself and smile back, then greet him with a small wave.

Eat
, he signs.
Drink. Then travel.

I take the food he offers me and quickly scarf the smoked meat down while he finishes straightening the last of the cave. He hands me boots and when I stand, he immediately starts packing the bedding. By the time he’s done, I’ve got my first layer of warm furs on over my clothes, and he stops to help me with the next few layers, like I’m a little kid. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating. I want to be able to take care of myself. I feel like I’m dependent on everyone and it’s tough. I know I’m capable of so much more.

Rokan finishes bundling me in the furs and helps me strap on the snowshoes he’s made for me. I’m given the scabbard to my knife and tie it to the outermost belt on my layers-upon-layers of fur garments. My hood is on, gloves are on, and snowshoes are on. I look like a stuffed animal, and I’m ready to go find Hassen, because after we find him, we go to my sister.

Then, Rokan holds out a rope, and I blink at it in surprise.
What is that for
?

He gestures, indicating that he wants to tie it around my waist. Another belt? I hold still and let him, and then my eyebrows go up when he immediately ties the other end around his own waist, leaving a lead-line of just a few feet between us.

Why? I wasn’t a fan of being tied to Hassen, and that led to him kidnapping me. This…isn’t some bizarre courting ritual is it? “I need to ask about this,” I say aloud, then point at the rope. I sign
why
to him, because I don’t understand. Is the snow that deep? Or does it have nothing to do with snow at all?

He hesitates, then puts his hands together and makes something that looks like flapping wings.

“A bird?” I ask, then realize they might not have the same thing here. “Wings? Something with wings?” When he nods, I try to think where he’s going with this. Not being able to truly communicate means we do a lot of Charades and this is one that I can’t quite follow along with. “Why rope for birds?”

Rokan gestures again. The ‘bird’ he makes with his hands swoops down, and then he points at me, and then makes a chomping motion with one hand.

Cold prickles go down my spine. I start to gesture, then realize he won’t know what I’m asking, and just blurt it out. “How big is this bird?”

He points at one end of the cave, then behind me. I turn and he’s pointing at the wall several feet in the distance. The cave is at least fifteen feet long.

Okay, what the
fuck
.

A memory flashes through my mind, of the aliens standing outside the crashed spaceship, one tossing an enormous dead creature atop a pile of others. That was just before I was tethered to Hassen.

Are…those the birds? If so, oh my God.

My panic must show on my face, because he pats my arm to reassure me and gestures at the rope.
No Li-lah,
he gestures.
No bird Li-lah. No eat.

I guess that’s comforting. Sort of. The rope will ensure that the gigantic car-sized bird doesn’t eat me? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. “I’m scared,” I admit, and spread my hands in the sign. “Real scared.”

To my surprise, Rokan cups my cheek. He points at me. Then at the rope. Then he clenches his fists and does his best to puff his shoulders up, as if trying to seem bigger. I think he’s telling me that he’s got me. No matter what happens, he’s got me and will keep me safe.

It’s a sweet message, but I’m a little fixed on that brief cheek touch. His skin felt so soft and hot against my own, and it’s made me purr even louder.

I nod slowly, my gaze flicking to his lips before meeting his gaze again.

Rokan, though? He’s still watching my mouth. His hand rests on my shoulder, perilously close to touching my cheek again, and we’re standing inches apart. Is he…is he going to lean forward and kiss me? Every inch of my body comes alive at the thought.

But he only gives me a gentle smile and pats my shoulder, like we’re bros or something.

I want to scream with frustration, but it wouldn’t be satisfying since I can’t hear it. I settle for clenching my fists and scrunching my face when he turns his back.

Then we’re off into the snow, nothing but a few feet of rope separating us. He walks slowly, letting me set the pace, and I move to his side instead of at his back. I glance up at the sky, worried.

Rokan taps my shoulder and when I look over, gestures at his belt then points at my hand. Do I want to hold on to him?

I do, but instead of grabbing his belt, I take his hand. Mine’s mittened, so I can’t feel his skin against mine, but I can imagine it.

He looks surprised at my response, but then a look of pleasure moves over his features, and I start purring hard all over again. I feel a blush staining my cheeks and ignore it, squeezing his hand.
Ok?

Rokan nods and squeezes my hand back.

That makes me feel a little better. Plus, now I have something else to focus on other than being eaten, like how big his hand is compared to mine. Thinking silly, romantic thoughts about a space alien is better than worrying about being bird food.

T
raveling
with Li-lah fills me with joy and terror all at once. I hold her small hand in mine and we take careful steps through the deep snow, because she must tread carefully with the bulky snowshoes. She is silent, her ability to talk hampered by the fact that her hand is in mine, but it does not feel lonely. It feels wonderful, and the suns are out, the weather mild, as if the suns are smiling down upon our journey.

It would be pleasant if it were not for the shadows of sky-claws in the distance, and the spear I grip in my other hand. The female tethered to me is the greatest prize, and I must do everything I can to protect her. I am tempted to throw her over my shoulder and carry her down through the valley and over the other side of the cliffs, into less dangerous territory. Anything to get her closer to safety. But I will not risk angering her or frightening her, not when the risk could be minimal. We traveled with Kira and no sky-claws came close to our party. Perhaps my larger body next to Li-lah’s will make us look like intimidating prey. Haeden’s mate Jo-see was snatched, but Jo-see is also the tiniest of the humans. Li-lah is much taller.

Perhaps I worry over nothing.

We pause at mid-day to eat and rest our feet. She’s shivering and her water-skin is frozen solid. I hand her mine; I keep it under my wraps to let my body heat thaw it. She takes a few sips but refuses the meat I offer her.
Cold
, she signals, and tucks her hands close against her body.

And then I have something new to worry over. Perhaps sky-claws are not the biggest danger to traveling with a human. Perhaps I am not tending to her as I should. The cave I am to meet Hassen at is but a brief hike of hard travel away from where we are. We can make it there in one day, but it is clear to me that humans do not walk as fast as sa-khui.

There is a hunter cave not far from here, a smaller one. I will take her there instead, and we will take two days to get to Hassen. He will hopefully wait to hear from me before setting out again.

We rest for a short time longer, and then I get to my feet, offering her my hand. I make the
travel
motion with my fingers and gesture at a distant cliff. On the other side of that is a hot stream and the hunter cave. It will not be much further.

She nods and hauls herself to her feet, wobbling on her snowshoes. She gives me an apologetic look and lifts her hands to signal, then frowns at her gloves. Li-lah starts to pull them off but I shake my head and gesture at the far-away cliff again. We can talk later.

With her hand in mine, we walk some more. Her steps seem slower than before, and I know she is tired. I turn to ask her if she would rather be carried, when my knowing sense rushes through me, sending a chill through my body. A moment later, I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye.

It covers us in darkness before there is even time to think. All I see is a gaping mouth, reaching claws, and teeth - so many teeth - as the sky-claw flings itself down from the sky and heads straight for my Li-lah.

I do not even think; I react. I shove Li-lah aside and hoist my spear into the air, bracing my legs for the inevitable impact.

I feel it a moment later; the spear jolts in my arms, then snaps into a thousand brittle shards even as the jaws close over me and I am flung backward. Hot liquid rushes over me — blood and the sticky filth of the creature’s mouth. The sky-claw screams in my ears, even as I hear the faint, high-pitched cry of Li-lah’s voice. My legs throb and my bones ache, but I am alive and whole.

I am also in the creature’s mouth.

The thing screams in pain again and I feel the aching grind of jagged teeth against my plated lower arms. I grunt in pain as the tongue moves and the teeth dig into my skin. It is trying to chew me or work me free from its mouth, and my arm is trapped between rows of fangs. My spear is gone, nothing but a slick, broken handle remaining. I use my other arm to feel along my belt, looking for one of the many knives I carry. All the while, the sky-claw tries to move its jaws and my arm feels dangerously close to snapping in its grip.

In the distance, muffled, I hear Li-lah screaming my name. She does not sound close; did the rope snap? Did the creature hurt her? Worry over my mate fuels my body, and I move faster.

I must get free to protect her.

My fingers close around one of my belt knives; it is a small one, because I gave the larger one to Li-lah. I pull it free and slam it into the creature’s rough tongue. It sinks deep and I feel the sky-claw shiver in response. Over and over, I stab it.
Die now. Die now! You are keeping me from my mate!

The knife cracks in my grip, the broken handle stabbing into my palm. The shock of it jerks me free from the bloodthirst clouding my mind. I stop, realizing that the mouth I am stuck in is no longer trying to chew me - the teeth digging into my arm have stopped moving. I can still hear Li-lah’s terrified cries outside, though. I try to move, but my head is stuck - my horns have buried the back points into the roof of the creature’s mouth. It takes some pushing before my head are freed, and then my arm is freed. I crawl out of the sky-claw’s widely gaping mouth on hands and knees, exhausted and bloody.

Li-lah. I must find her. Must protect her. I struggle to get to my feet. My arm throbs painfully and my entire body feels sore. There’s a stabbing pain in my tail and one under my ribs, but I ignore them, searching the red-bathed snow for my mate.

There she is, her back to me. Her knife is in her hand and she’s sobbing openly and staring at something in the distance. The broken cord of the rope tether drags behind her in the snow like the tail she does not have.

“Li-lah,” I call wearily. I just want to hold her close and see for myself that she’s safe. She does not turn, and then I feel foolish. I have forgotten. I stagger toward her and touch her shoulder.

She gasps and turns, brandishing the knife. Her eyes are wide and wet as she looks me over. There is a large scrape on her smooth human forehead and a purpling bruise on her cheekbone.

I did this?

“Li-lah,” I murmur, horrified. I shoved her out of the way to protect her, never dreaming that I would have harmed her. She must have landed on a rock. Shame and loathing fill me, and I reach out to touch a knuckle to her cheek. “My poor mate.”

She sobs and flings her arms around me, squeezing my waist.

I stiffen, because I am covered in gore and drool from the sky-claw, but she still clings to me. She wants me to comfort her, even though I have hurt her. I am a terrible mate, but she is safe. The realization of it strikes me and I stagger at the thought, dropping to my knees. I press my face against her fur-covered breast, feeling the hum of her khui as it matches its song to mine.

Li-lah is safe. Safe.

Safe.

“Rokan,” she sobs, her soft voice broken. She pats my shoulder over and over. “Rokan. Rokan.”

I hold her for a moment longer, then reluctantly get back to my feet. All of the energy has drained from my body and it feels like effort to hold my horns high and to flick my tail. Her face is filthy and so are her furs, but that can be fixed.

I can never fix the fact that I have hurt her. Just seeing the bruise on her pale cheek is enough to sicken me.
Sorry
, I sign, and then brush a knuckle over her cheek.

She makes a gesture I don’t recognize. “Blood,” she says aloud, and repeats the gesture. “There’s blood everywhere. Are you hurt? Are you okay? That was the thing you were worried about, wasn’t it?”

I nod slowly, a strange calm overtaking my body. I give her the
I am well
hand-talk gesture, and then run my other hand over her arms and legs, checking to make sure she is not wounded in a place I cannot see. She is far more important than me. I am a strong warrior and hunter; I have been wounded in the past and worked through it.

But Li-lah? Li-lah is my fragile, precious mate. No harm must come to her.

When I am satisfied that she is healthy other than the terrible bruise on her face, I take her by the hand, and then stop. She is tired, and it is my duty to take care of her.

I will carry her the rest of the way.

When Rokan signals that he wants to carry me, I’m pretty sure he’s crazy. I sniff, ignoring the hiccups that are mixing with the purring in my chest. The guy just got half-eaten by a pterodactyl-looking-thing the size of a bus and he wants to carry
me
?

I resist the urge to fling my arms around him again. I’m just so damn relieved that he’s okay. That he’s whole and alive and smiling at me. I’m shaking with the aftermath of an adrenaline spike, and I’m mad. I’ve had hearing for ten years and I didn’t realize how much I’d come to rely on it until some asshole aliens stole it from me again. I should have known something was off when he turned around. Instead, I had no clue until he flung me to the ground, face first. I smacked into a rock and when I hit, my first thought was shock that he’d hurt me. Then, utterly crushed because I’d thought all wrong about him. Then I looked up just in time to see the awful beast swallow him and his spear.

I think I screamed. A lot. Rokan and the creature skidded several feet away, flinging snow everywhere. There was blood all over the place and the creature was thrashing, and I could see one of Rokan’s legs sticking out of its mouth, and no one was getting up.

I didn’t know what to do.

I still don’t know what to do.

Over and over, this place keeps making me feel like a helpless, hand-wringing princess in need of a rescue. And I am really not a fan of that.

Starting now, I’m going to be a self-rescuing princess. “I can walk,” I tell him, and take a step forward. My knees buckle, and my entire body starts shaking. I’m on the verge of crying, again. It’s shock. Of course it is. I just watched the guy I have a crush on get eaten by a flying monster.

He scoops me up into his arms like I’m nothing, and carries me just like the princess I didn’t want to be.

Okay, starting
tomorrow
I’ll be a self-rescuing princess. That sounds good. Today, I’ll shiver and be a wimp for a little longer. I’ll burrow in the hero’s arms and let him take care of me.

Just until tomorrow.

* * *

R
okan doesn’t carry
me for long. Just like he pointed out, we head for the distant cliff and there, tucked away in the rock wall, is another small cave. This entire planet seems to be nothing but snow, rock, and more snow, so I guess it’s not surprising that rethere are a bunch of caves. He sets me gently on my feet and instead of making me wait outside the cave this time, he puts my knife in my hand, grips his last knife in his own hand, and we go into the cave together.

It’s completely dark and I can’t hear a thing, so I’m relieved when he gives my arm a gentle pat and steers me toward the cave wall. I wait there, and a few moments later, there’s a spark of fire in the fire pit. I wait patiently as he builds the fire and then sits up, indicating that I can come join him.

I move to sit next to him and watch as he sets up his cooking tripod over the fire and takes the pouch to go collect snow. “I can do that,” I say aloud, and then sign it when he looks in my direction.

He shakes his head and gestures that I should stay sitting by the fire. I do so, but it’s irking me a little. Is this a control thing? Is this how he handles the trauma of being nearly eaten? Because I’m all shaky and freaked out, and he’s completely chill. It’s weird. You’d think I was the one that got eaten by the way he’s acting.

Rokan puts the pouch over the fire and peels his furs off, then helps me peel mine. He seems to take more care over my appearance than his, examining my hurt cheek over and over again with a distressed look on his broad face.

It’s okay
, I sign.

He shakes his head.
No okay.

You nearly got eaten, I want to scream at him. How does he not understand how much this affects me? If he gets eaten, I’m lost. I won’t find Hassen, or my sister, or anyone. I won’t know how to feed myself or build the fire or anything.

I won’t have anyone that will make me purr or smile at me. I won’t have a big alien with curling horns, a glorious chest, and who tries so hard to learn American Sign Language because he’s desperate to talk to me. I won’t have anyone that tries to make me smile even when I want to cry, or anyone that will fuss over my stupid bruise after he nearly got eaten.

I don’t know why or how Rokan became so important to me, but he did, and I have to fight the urge to fling my arms around him again. Instead, I clasp my hands tight and sit by the fire, my mouth pursed in frustration.

I watch as he tugs off the last of his tattered, blood-stained furs and reveals his bare chest. He’s just as dirty underneath all the layers, which is kinda surprising. I guess the creature chewed him good. Just thinking about that makes me a little ill.

He leans over the water pouch to see if it’s melted, and then gets out the dipper from his bag and offers it to me.

Is he serious?
Are you serious?
I sign, even though I know he doesn’t get it. Then, because he’s waiting, I sign something he will recognize.
You. Wash.