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

Li-lah makes small, frightened whimpers as I climb. I do not blame her - my hand-holds are poorly chosen and we sway back and forth as the ice crumbles, but my goal is speed. We must get out before the metlaks return.

Amazingly, we manage to break free from the cave to the surface just as the first metlak regains its bravery. It screams an angry challenge at me, but does not approach. Li-lah clings to me, chokingly tight, even as I scoop my pack and discarded bow from the snow. I consider lighting another arrow, but Li-lah is whimpering and scared. I grab my nearly extinguished coal and fling it - bowl and all - at the metlak lurking nearby. It scampers away, hooting a warning, and I haul Li-lah higher on my back and then race into the hills.

I will not stop until I get to a hunter cave and she is safe.

It’s so cold. I feel like all I do now is complain about the weather but being in the yeti cave hasn’t prepared me for being out in the snow again at night. It’s dark out, but the twin moons (yep, there’s two of them, too) are gleaming bright on the snow and I can see around us. The yeti have disappeared, and Rowdan’s taking me up one ridge and then down another. On and on he goes, powering through knee-high snow like it’s nothing. His tail has wrapped protectively around one of my thighs, but I don’t point out just how um, impolitely it’s gripping me.

After rescuing my ass? He can put his tail anywhere he wants.

I squeeze my thighs tighter around his waist, blushing at my own thoughts. I’m clinging to him from behind, piggyback style, and every time his tail moves, it rubs against my butt. Add that to the fact that my chest won’t stop with the weird purring - and he’s doing it, too - and I figure all this movement and vibration must be why I’m feeling so horny. Or maybe it’s adrenaline after my rescue.

Whatever it is? It’s kind of awkward. I didn’t think I could be attracted to the aliens - they look like devils with horns and fangs, and they’re massive. But there’s no denying that my body’s definitely paying attention to his right now.

Which makes for a really awkward rescue.

Not that Rowdan is noticing. He’s charging ahead, ignoring the cold, his hands holding my thighs and keeping me pinned against him. I can feel my teeth starting to chatter. “Are we going to be someplace warm soon?” I call out, even though I hate that I’m wimping out. “I’m really cold.”

Silence. Of course there’s silence. I can’t hear him. I hate this; I hate how isolated I am without my hearing, and I itch to touch the small bald spot behind my ear where my cochlear implant used to be. Nothing I can do about it, though. I’m comforted a little when one of his big hands reaches up to pat one of mine where I cling to the collar of his shirt. God, he’s warm. He’s like a big space-heater. I press my body a little closer to his at the thought.

A short time later, he heads toward a rocky tumble in the distance, near the cliffs. He pats my hand again, as if trying to say something to me. What it is, I don’t know. This entire planet seems to be snow and rock, snow and rock. Right now? We just found more rock, so I’m not sure if I should get excited.

But then he eases me down off his back and I drop, hip-deep, into the snow. He turns and looks at me, mouth moving, but I can’t tell what he’s saying. I shake my head at him and he takes off his shirt and then tugs it over my head and the furs I’m bundled in.

And I should protest. I really should. But it’s warm and smells like sweat and spices and, okay, I get a little more turned on. I hold it against my body, frowning at him. Isn’t he cold? Because he’s like, half-naked. And like, really, really built. He’s got a six pack going down that lean, hard torso of his, and he even has hard, ridged obliques. They disappear into the waistband of his pants and I try not to be disappointed about that. He gestures behind him and then gestures back at me.

“I should stay here?” I guess aloud.

He nods and then pulls a new knife from his belt and hands it to me.

Oh, okay. Well at least we’re getting somewhere now. I clutch it in my hand and watch as he disappears behind the tumble of rocks with his pack. There’s a cave back there, I think. Has to be.

A moment later, a dark brown something the size of a cat streaks past my feet, and I hop backward, screaming silently. What the fuck?

Rowdan appears again, giving me one of the universal
it’s okay
gestures. He pats my shoulder and then takes my hand, pulling me along with him. Oh. He was checking the cave to make sure it was safe, I guess. I follow close behind and when he ducks into a black, jagged hole in the side of the cliff, I swallow my fear and let him lead me forward. After all, he wouldn’t steal me away from the yeti just to let a bear eat me, right?

Once inside, he releases my hand and then pats my arm and moves away.

Shit. I don’t know if that’s
stay here
or
move to the left
, or what. “I’m going to stay here,” I call out.

He pats my hand again and then there’s nothing but darkness. I resist the urge to squeeze my eyes shut out of fear, because blocking out the world right now won’t do me any good. I need to be brave, and I need to find out what’s going on. The stay in the yeti cave has opened my eyes to just how much shit I’m in, and I need to start paying attention.

A spark flares in the darkness, illuminating Rowdan’s face in shadow before disappearing. God, he really looked like a devil just then. I ignore the shiver that creeps down my spine - and the quiver low in my belly - and watch, waiting for another spark. It comes a moment later, and then Rowdan’s face lights up again. He’s bending over a fire pit, blowing on a little mound of tinder. A moment later, it catches and I watch his big hands move as he feeds more bits to the flame.

In what seems like no time, there’s a fire. A sigh of relief escapes me.

He looks up, eyes gleaming in the firelight at me, and for some reason, it feels like my weird purring strengthens. Rowdan gestures that I should join him. I move forward and hand him back his knife, then sit down next to him by the fire. I ignore the fangs that show when his mouth curls into another faint smile, because I know he’s got kind eyes. The fangs don’t mean anything.

I smile back.

My chest vibrates a little louder, and I’m getting embarrassed because it’s practically jiggling my boobs at this point with the force of it. “I think my coo-ee is cold,” I tell him. Maybe this is the parasite version of teeth chattering.

He just smiles and continues to feed the fire.

For some reason, I appreciate that he’s quiet. He knows I won’t understand anything he tries to tell me without a lot of effort, and he’s not trying to talk around me like I’m a problem. It’s like he knows I can’t hear him, and he’s okay with waiting to talk. And for some reason, that’s awfully comforting.

I return his knife to him and settle in by the fire. Man, I love fire. I stretch my hands toward it to warm up for what feels like the first time in days. The awful tension that’s lingered in my body for the last week - first from Hassen and then from the yeti - is draining out of me. No matter what happens now, I know I’m safe. My eyelids get heavy, and I find myself nodding off by the fire after mere moments.

Warm arms go around me, and that same, friendly hand taps my arm. It’s like he’s telling me
I’ve got you
. And a moment later, I’m lifted into the air like a princess in a fairy tale and carried in his arms. He sets me down on what feels like the most decadent pile of furs ever, and then gives my arm another pat.

I’m pretty sure that pat means
go to sleep now
. And I do.

I
watch her sleep
, scarcely able to believe that she is truly here. She is safe, and she resonates to me. Even in her sleep, I hear the hum of the song in her breast, and my chest is filled with a joyous ache.

To think that I have a mate. To think that all this time, my knowing has been sending me signals. It is why I have been so obsessed with her, why the thought of anyone else touching her fills me with rage. She is mine to protect and mine to care for. Eventually, when she allows it, she will also be mine to touch.

I am eager for that day, but I will be patient. So much has happened that I cannot expect her to fling herself into my arms, no matter how greatly I desire it. My body aches with wanting her, but there is such happiness in my heart that it does not matter. The body can wait.

For now, there is much to be done. The hunter cave we have retreated to is well-supplied, but I do not like how close we are to the metlak den. We will not be able to stay here for long. While we are here, though, I must take care of my mate.

I break into a grin at the thought. My mate. Mine.

I must focus. The only thing that matters now is getting my mate safely out of metlak territory. She must rest, and I will prepare our supplies. Then, we will meet Hassen at the central cave and journey back together. I ignore the vicious pleasure I feel, imagining his expression when he realizes she resonated for me. I should feel pity for him; he wants a mate badly, and yet over and over again, he is not chosen. When he returns to the tribe, he will be punished for risking Li-lah, and he will not even have her to show for it.

Hassen will not be envied. Vektal will punish him for breaking tribe rules, but the true punishment comes from losing Li-lah.

She turns in her sleep, facing the cave wall, and I can no longer see her face. Time to work, then. I must take stock of the food supplies in the cave, cut new furs to fit her small frame, make snowshoes, replenish my arrows, and a dozen other small tasks that will eat away at the waking hours. I do not have time to sit and watch my mate sleep.

My mate. Another idiotic grin creases my face as I pick up a knife to sharpen it. This is the best day ever.

* * *

B
y the time
Li-lah begins to stir, I have made a thick, hearty stew from dried meat and some spices. I have hung a second pouch on the tripod and have water warming there. She is dirty and smells of metlak after spending days in their cave, and I suspect she will want to wash. I have my spare tunic out for her to wear, and fresh furs. I have cut leather strips out of one of the hides in the cave and have begun to string a snowshoe for her out of curved bones. And I keep a watch on the entrance of the cave, just in case a metlak ignores the signs of a sa-khui hunter and comes hunting for her.

I must always be at the ready.

At the far end of the cave, Li-lah sits up and rubs her face. Her dark mane is tousled and spills over her shoulder. There is a smudge of dirt over one cheek and when she touches her face, she leaves another.

And I am stunned at how beautiful she is.

My khui sings a loud song of agreement, reminding me that it would like for me to mate with her. My body reacts to her nearness and I pull a fur over my lap, so she does not see my stiff cock and get frightened.

The look on her face turns from soft and sleepy to wary as her gaze focuses on me. Even though I rescued her, she does not trust me. I am not surprised, though I feel a small twinge of anger at Hassen for this. It is because of his actions that she does not trust. I will have to show her that I mean no harm.

I slowly pull my one of my knives free from the sheath at my belt and then move to set it on the floor between us, then gesture for her to take it. She feels stronger with a knife, so I will give it back to her.

Li-lah scrambles forward and snatches it, then retreats back to the furs with it in her hand. My khui hums alongside hers, the sound nearly overwhelming in the small cave, but she does not seem troubled by it. Instead, she gazes at me with a troubled expression.

“I am not like Hassen,” I tell her, turning toward the fire and stoking it, just to give my hands something to do. “I will not push you.”

“I can’t see your mouth,” she says in a small, breathless voice. “Can’t tell what you are saying. Can’t hear you.”

I look over.

She taps her ear and makes a gesture with her hands, indicating that she cannot hear. Does she read my mouth to see words? Her khui has not fixed whatever the problem is with her hearing, then. I nod, then remember the hand gestures her sister was fond of making, and try one out, extending my middle finger at her. This is the signal Mah-dee used to acknowledge someone’s words.

Li-lah’s little breathless laugh fills the cave, and my balls tighten against my groin in response. “Did you just flip me the bird?”

I try to make sense of her words. “Is this not a signal?” I make sure to face her and I watch her brows furrow as she stares at my mouth. It seems unfair to speak words if she cannot hear them. I need to learn her hand gestures.

So I decide to try another tactic. I lean over the fire and fill my traveling bowl with stew, then wipe the underside clean and offer it to her.

She blinks and watches me.

I gesture at the bowl, then touch my mouth, indicating she should eat.

A smile bursts over her face, startling in its beauty. I am in awe. Mah-dee is attractive enough in a plump, healthy human way but Li-lah? She takes my breath from my body. When her lips curve, I feel a sense of completeness that I have never felt before.

How my mother would laugh to see me so fascinated by a human. She has teased me since the humans arrived, wondering why I did not chase them like Aehako did his Kira. Now I know - I was waiting for Li-lah.

She makes a gesture and murmurs a small ‘thank you’. Ah. I make the gesture back, and she smiles again. Her happiness feels like a prize I have won, and I am determined to keep her smiling. I watch as she takes a bite of the food and then goes to lick her fingers. Then she wrinkles her nose and makes a face, setting the bowl down, a look of distress on her face.

Her hands fly in another gesture and then she makes a brushing motion with her fingers. Ah. She is dirty and she does not like it. I tap my fire-poking stick on the second pouch I have hanging. “Water,” I say, then realize I do not know how to gesture it. I think for a moment, then make a washing indication.

“Water?” she asks, and I nod. She then makes a gesture, putting three fingers near her mouth and tapping. “This is water.”

She is teaching me her words. Pleasure rushes through me and I repeat the motion, trying to get it as close to her gesture as possible given that I have less fingers than her. I mentally repeat it over and over again, determined to learn. I want to communicate with her in the way she is comfortable. If she cannot use spoken words, I will not either.

Li-lah washes her hands in the warm water and then looks at me. I tap my cheek and make a splashing gesture, because her face is still dirty. She nods and rubs the warm water on her face and then dunks her hands again, making sure they are clean. She pulls her hands from the water and flicks them to get rid of moisture, and I take the pouch from the fire and go to toss it. She will want new, fresh water to finish bathing once she is done eating.

By the time I have filled the pouch with more snow, melted it, and then filled it again until there is a decent level of water for warming, Li-lah is curled up in her blankets and eating. She watches me, but her shoulders seem a bit more relaxed and the knife rests on her leg. She will come to trust me, but it will take time.

I am a patient male; I am willing to give her all the time she needs.

She finishes the food with a little sigh and I look over in her direction. Her gaze meets mine and I make the ‘water’ sign, tapping my spread fingers near my mouth. Is she thirsty? My signal gets a smile from her and she nods, then hands the bowl back to me. I give her my water skin and watch as she drinks. She will need more water for drinking, more water for bathing, and she will need to make water and relieve herself. I know that the humans like privacy for their bodies, and they are much shyer than the sa-khui. I do not want her to feel pressured, so I gesture at the bowl in the corner of the cave that is set aside for such actions, and then point at her. Then I point at the water I have warming over the fire, and make the washing motion. I point at myself and indicate I am going to leave the cave for a time. I should check my traps anyhow.

Li-lah nods at me and makes a flurry of gestures with her hands, then pauses, a bashful smile on her face. “I guess we’re not quite there yet. I’ll wait here, yes.” And she points at the floor.

I nod and pick up my bow and spear, wrap a fur around my shoulders, and then head out, making sure to secure the screen over the cave entrance. My khui is humming a protest; it does not want me to leave her. My cock throbs with need, and I grit my teeth as I plunge into the snow.

Perhaps I am not as patient as I think I am, because as I walk away from the cave to check my traps, I picture Li-lah naked and in the furs with me, her arms welcoming.

I wish we were already there.

L
ILA

R
owdan is possibly
the nicest alien I’ve met so far, I think as I hurriedly strip off my clothing to give myself a sponge bath. He’s trying to take care of me like Hassen, but unlike Hassen, I’m not getting a weird vibe from him. With Hassen, every time he handed me food or a drink, I could almost feel a mental tally going on, like “If I get her to eat four more times, then she will want to be my girl.” With Rowdan, I don’t get that feeling at all. He seems nice. I might be biased because he’s not overbearing, but, yeah. I like him.

My furry garments still reek of yeti-cave and the stink is getting to be too much. I toss them into a pile and the smell lessens a bit. I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone, so I decide I need to hustle. There’s no soap, so I settle for splashing the warm water on my skin and rubbing with the torn scraps of my sleep-shirt to get the worst of the grime off. I give my greasy hair a quick rinse, too. By the time I feel clean and can no longer smell the yetis on my skin, the water’s almost gone and I’m shivering despite the warmth of the cave.

I glance down at my discarded furs and realize I don’t have anything else to wear. That’s depressing. I debate putting them back on, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m probably going to send the wrong signals if Rowdan comes back and I’m nude, but actually, I don’t think he would view that as an invitation like Hassen would.

I’m about to climb into bed naked when I realize there’s a fresh tunic on the ground near the bed-furs, neatly folded. I pick it up, studying it. It’s clearly hand-stitched with a deep, open collar that has laces and fur-trimmed sleeves. There’s a hint of darker, decorative fur at the hem, and I brush a hand over it, curious. The stitches are jagged but seem to be patterned, like a design. It’s clear that a lot of work and love went into this - did he leave it for me or did he make it for me?

I pull it over my head and choke back a laugh. This was definitely not made for a human physique. The collar hangs open practically to my navel, and the sleeves flop well past my hands, the furry hem calf-length. It must be thigh-length on him, I decide, and roll up the sleeves. By the time I lace the collar high enough for decency, the screen over the front of the cave moves and Rowdan peeks in. The look in his eyes is questioning.

I nod and gesture for him to come in.

He enters and sets his weapons down, then secures the screen. I climb back into bed where it’s nice and warm, and pull the covers over my lap. Now that he’s back, my breast feels all weird and vibratey again, which is so strange. I like seeing him return, though. Something about him fills me with pleasure, and I press my thighs together only to realize that I’m wet and slick between my thighs.

Um.

I hitch the blankets closer against my body, silently willing my nipples to stop pricking. Wow, inappropriate timing much, body? I have no idea why I’m responding like this. I mean, I like him, but I don’t know if I like him enough to think about grabbing his horns and…

A shiver rockets through me. Okay, maybe I do like him enough to think things like that. Which is weird. Maybe I’m purring because I’m happy. I tap my breast and look at him. “What is this?”

He says something, and then taps his own chest.

I shake my head. I didn’t catch that.

He repeats it three times more and each time, I still don’t get it. The fourth time, he frowns and thinks, then says, “Song?”

Okay, I get that part, I guess. It must be part of the coo-ee thing. “Coo-ee song?”

He nods, smiling.

I smile back. I don’t even mind the flashes of fangs he’s showing now. They’re like his horns and his tail - they make him different, but it doesn’t mean he’s a monster. I pat the front of the tunic, and I’m pleased when he makes the ‘thank you’ sign in ASL. I’m the one that should be saying thank you, but the meaning is clear, and I’m happy he’s trying to communicate with me. My thighs tingle again and I squeeze them tight, resisting the urge to slide my hands between my legs. I feel super awkward and flushed, like the dweeby virgin I am. I’m twenty-two and most girls my age have had at least one lover to call their own, but I’ve always been a lot shyer than most. I can barely even remember the last time a guy kissed me. Sitting here in front of a half-dressed alien that’s making me get wet between my legs for absolutely no reason at all? I’m totally feeling every minute, every hour, every second of my virginity.