by Dixon, Ruby
Barbarian's Bride
Ice Planet Barbarians Book 22
Ruby Dixon
Copyright © 2021 by Ruby Dixon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Photo: Sara Eirew Photographer
Cover Design: Kati Wilde
Edits: Aquila Editing
Created with Vellum
For Alicia! Thank you for the help. :)
Contents
Barbarian’s Bride
A note about content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Author’s Note
The People of Ice Planet Barbarians
Want More Ruby Dixon?
Barbarian’s Bride
Nora says she’s happy.
Dagesh isn’t so sure. He loves his pretty human mate and wants nothing more than to bring a smile to her face…so she’ll go running into his arms. When he asks the tribe what she’s missing, someone suggests a wedding.
All right, then.
He’ll throw the best barbarian wedding ever.
So how does Nora tell her determined, thoughtful mate that what she wanted wasn’t a wedding…but something a little different in bed?
A note about content
(Mild spoilers ahoy?)
Hi readers!
I’m trying to be better about including possible triggers in my books, and so I wanted to include a few notes about the story here so you can decide if this is right for you.
This story deals with issues of consent and lightly toys with a bit of sadism. The heroine wants a very firm hand in the furs and the hero is a vanilla virgin. The story is about them coming together to figure each other out. Consent is always included, but if the following bothers you, please skip this story:
References to/and hair pulling
Spanking
Bruising in sex
On a scale of one to ten, one being ‘no sex’, five being ‘vanilla/normal sex’ and ten being the deep end of BDSM, this story is about a six. AKA, if you’re looking for wild stuff, it’s not here. If you’re scared it might be too much for you, think of it as a little more spice instead of mild.
I hope that helps you decide if it’s right for you.
Happy reading!
— Ruby
1
Current Day
NORA
Some days, being a mom is utterly exhausting.
I rub my throbbing forehead as the girls squabble and argue over bits of scrap leather. "That's my piece," Anna declares, snatching a bit out of Elsa's hand. When her sister picks up another scrap, Anna grabs for it. "That one, too."
"They can't all be yours," Elsa complains. She looks over at me. "Mama—"
Whatever happened to twins getting along like two peas in a pod? The older they get, the more Anna and Elsa bicker. "Share, girls. There's plenty of scraps to go around for everyone."
"But I wanted the ones with the red tones," Anna complains. "Mama, my tunic is going to be all red colors! Hers is pale. It won't look right if she takes all the bright scraps." She tries to snatch another piece out of Elsa's hand, but Elsa holds it out of her reach.
"I want a red heart in the center of my tunic," Elsa declares. "I can do that if I want to!"
"No you can't—"
"Yes, I can—"
"Girls!" I snap. Most days I can handle them fussing at each other, but today, it is getting on my last nerve. "Please. Why don't you put your sewing away for today? We'll look at it again tomorrow."
"But I want a pretty tunic," Elsa whines, and Anna thrusts her lip out, pouting. They're at that age where they can go from cranky to cute in less than a breath, and it's making me crazy.
"Then we'll go and visit the others and see if they have scraps they can give you. Sound good?" I wave a hand at them. "Help Mama up."
Elsa jumps to her feet and grabs one of her father's spears while Anna gets my shoes. I immediately feel guilty, because they really are great girls. They're just bored and being kids, and it's not their fault that I'm short-tempered as the birth of my third one gets closer. I roll onto my knees, huffing and puffing. My belly feels as if it weighs fifty freaking pounds, and my back is killing me. Using Dagesh's spear as a prop, I push myself off the ground and shove my feet into the sandals Anna's retrieved for me. The girls put on their warm fur shawls and Anna hands me mine even as Elsa gets their hand baskets.
They really are good kids, and it makes me weepy. "I'm sorry, girls. I just want you both to know I love you very much."
Anna goes in for a hug while Elsa gives me a sassy look that is far too adult for her seven-year-old body. "Mama, you always apologize and cry lately."
"Do I?" I swipe at my face. "It's the baby."
"If he grows any bigger he's going to bust right out of you!" Anna says helpfully.
Well there's a lovely image I didn't want. I just smooth Anna's pale braids, amused. The twins looked like carbon copies of one another when they were born, but the older they get, the more they look like individuals. Elsa's hair is slightly darker than her sister's, with a hint of curl to the ends, like mine. Anna's is bone straight like her father's in texture, if not color, and her features are slightly finer than Elsa's. She's the quieter one, too, shy and unobtrusive—unless she's around her twin. Then she screeches like a banshee unless she gets her way. It's like Anna has to make sure Elsa knows that Anna is the alpha of the two of them, but only for the two of them. All other times, Elsa's the leader. "How do you know it's a boy?" I ask, smoothing Anna's hair back. "Did your father ask Rokan after all?"
If so, I'm going to have to have a talk with my mate. We agreed that we weren't going to ask Rokan about the sex of the baby, just because it would be a lovely surprise to find out later. We don't even know if it's one or two—though I'm carrying differently than with the girls, so I'm hoping it's just one big fat baby instead of twins again. I don't know if I can handle another set of twins. I would love them dearly, of course, but four children under the age of ten makes me tired just thinking about it. Plus, I remember how hard it was to nurse both of the girls at once.
"Papa hasn't asked Rokan," Elsa says, skipping toward the door hide of our hut. "Anna asked Analay."
Hmm. "Did she now?"
Anna just smiles sweetly up at me, as if she wasn't in a screaming fight with her sister over leather bits two minutes ago. Elsa nods triumphantly. "It's because she's gonna mate him when they get older. Analay says it's true."
Not this again. It distressed me to hear it the first time Analay brought it up, and it distresses me that my girls are repeating it as if it's set in stone. I put a hand on my enormous belly to support it and lean in toward Anna, cupping her chin and making her look up at me. "It doesn't matter what Analay says unless there's resonance, baby girl. You know that, right? You can romance any boy or any girl you want to as long as you're happy."
"But Analay says we're going to resonate," Anna say
s simply.
"We'll see about that," I huff, straightening. I don't like the thought of anyone deciding anything for my girls in advance. Analay's a sweet boy, but I want them to have choices. If Anna grows up and decides she wants to hook up with Esha or Sessah or wants to travel the mountains alone, I will support whatever she wants to do. She doesn't have to be tied down to anything. She certainly doesn't have to be tied down to resonance at the age of seven. I pat my stomach, making a mental note to talk to the girls' father when he gets back from hunting. "Analay's only a little boy and he might be making stories," I say. "After all, this baby might be another girl. Or two girls."
"It's a boy," Anna says simply. Her face brightens. "Can we go see Analay and his mama this morning? And the new baby?"
I really like Ariana. There's not a mean bone in her body and she adores the children. She's so patient with them as she teaches, too. But I'm in a cranky mood and there's no way I can sit in her hut and socialize and not snap at her for Analay's insistence that Anna's his future mate. "Let's go visit Asha and Hemalo, shall we?"
Both girls groan. "But Shema's such a baby," Elsa complains as she heads out of the hut, leading the way. "She doesn't play right."
"That's because she is a baby," I remind them. "She's full sa-khui, like her mother and father, and she's going to age differently than you guys. Be nice to her." Shema is about three turns of the seasons old, but she's very much a toddler and the girls get impatient with her, though Shema adores them and tries to copy them both. "I bet if you ask Hemalo nicely, he'll have some good scraps."
That excites them, and we leave the hut and head into the heart of our small village. I move slow, because my feet are swollen and my sandals make it difficult to walk. I keep my hands under my heavy belly, doing my best not to waddle (and probably failing). The village is a little quiet this morning. It's cold out, but clear, and that means everyone that can hunt is out checking traps or pulling meat from the nearest caches. I'm more than ready for the brutal season to be gone already. When the weather gets warmer, I can send the girls hunting with their father again, but for now, it's just too cold.
I wave to people as I walk, the girls bounding ahead of me with so much energy that it feels unfair. I'm definitely nearing the end of my pregnancy, I muse, because right now I hate everyone and everything around me. I don't, really. I'm normally a pretty even-keel sort, but being late-stage pregnant makes me grumpy. Everything hurts, nothing fits right, everything's swollen, and everyone's too loud. Yup, that sounds about right.
Kate and Summer pass by, large leather satchels strapped to their backs. They beam at my girls and look over at me. "Oh, you look good today, Nora," Summer says. "Your cheeks are so rosy and fresh! I love it. What are you using on your face? Is it fish oil? Or fat? Because Sevvah says she uses fish oil on hers when it gets dry but I don't want to smell like ice planet trout. What do you think?"
Kate's mouth just twitches as Summer rambles. She looms over the smaller woman, tall and fit and strong. She must be six feet easily, with broad shoulders and a sturdy build. She wouldn't feel as if the baby in her belly was a boulder, and her boobs wouldn't feel like watermelons. For a moment, I'm hugely envious of her.
I slide my hands under my uncomfortable belly, rubbing it. "It's a pot of some face stuff Maylak gave me. It doesn't smell like fish, though. It smells like…" I blink, because my brain has given out on me. I turn to my daughters, who are busy skidding their booted feet across a patch of ice and giggling. "Girls, what does Mommy smell like at night?"
"Daddy," calls Elsa. "You smell like Daddy."
Kate snickers.
I rub my forehead. "Sorry, pregnancy brain is getting to me. Tell Maylak it's the same thing I use, or come by later and you can have some of mine," I promise her. I really just want to sit down. My lower back feels tight and terrible. "Or all of it."
"Are you sure?" Summer asks. "I can—"
Kate touches her arm, silencing her, and I want to kiss her. Summer is a nervous talker. And a happy talker. And okay, just a talker. And normally I love hearing how her mind works because there's not a bit of pretentiousness in her and she's as open as she is chatty—but not today. "Did you and the girls want to join us?" Kate asks. "We're off to collect dirtbeak nests for fuel."
I shake my head. The dirtbeak nests are in a blind canyon a short distance from camp, but it feels like an eternity today. "We're visiting Asha and Hemalo and then heading back to the hut for a nap." Man, a nap sounds awesome.
"We'll leave you to it, then," Summer says cheerily. "You know where we are if you want to join us!"
They head off, and I gather up the girls, heading for Asha and Hemalo's hut. My friend and her mate tend to be a little more private than some—I think Asha worries people don't like her, and Hemalo likes to spread out with his projects—so their hut is at the edge of the village, next to an empty one that Hemalo uses for skinning. He's in there right now, with Asha at his side, her baby on her hip. She's toying with a lock of his hair and giving him an affectionate look as he gazes adoringly up at her. They're sweet together, and I'm glad that they've settled into happiness.
Asha looks up as we approach, and her lean face brightens into a smile. "Ho, beautiful females! Are you about to go hunting?" She gives me a teasing look. "If you are seeking mates, mine is taken."
My girls giggle.
"The only thing I'm hunting is a seat and a cup of tea," I tell her, smiling. "The girls wanted to ask Hemalo something, though."
As though unleashed, the twins rush forward to Hemalo's side, baskets in hand. "Do you have any scraps for us?" Elsa gushes. "Mama's teaching us how to sew and we're making tunics!"
"I want red scraps," Anna blurts out. "Mine's red!"
"I want the white ones!" Elsa continues. "You'll give those to me, right?"
They aren't even giving him a chance to respond. I wince at their bad manners, but Hemalo takes it all in stride. He glances over at me with a smile and then pats the floor next to him. "I was going to check on some dyed leather this morning, actually. Would you like to join me? I am certain we can find some scraps for you."
He's so good with the kids. Asha leans over and gives her mate a kiss on his plated brow, then turns to me. "Come on. Let us get that tea you mentioned, yes?"
"Will you be okay with the girls here, Hemalo?" I ask, just to be sure.
"Of course. They will be my helpers, will you not?" He hands a scraper to Anna.
"We will!" Both girls drop to sit next to him, all excitement, as if they've never scraped a hide before. I guess it's more fun when it's someone else's work. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
Asha heads over to her hut, pulling her braid out of Shema's mouth as she does. "You look tired this day, my friend," she says to me. "Does your back ache?"
I groan, following after her. "Constantly. I'll never get used to these fifteen-month pregnancies. How did you manage to be pregnant for three years without going crazy?"
"How do you know I did not?" she says with a laugh.
* * *
Asha and I spend most of the morning chatting and drinking tea. She tidies up and then works on sewing decorations onto a small tunic for Shema while the baby naps, and we talk about mates and the weather and nothing at all in particular. Asha's got a clever mind and doesn't really gossip, which is nice. She never says anything she wouldn't say to your face, and even if her words are sharp, there's no malice in them.
We talk about children, because babies are the biggest parts of our lives. I rub my belly as we chat, trying to get blood flowing.
"You look bigger today," Asha points out to me. "Do you think your kit will be born soon?"
"I sure hope so. I'm ready to have my body back."
She snorts. "That will not happen until you stop nursing."
"Thanks, sunshine," I grump, but she's not wrong. It's sleepless nights and shoving a tit in the baby's face every time he—or she—is hungry, until they're old enough to eat regular meals with th
e family. "I'm just hoping for one this time."
"It is just one," Asha agrees. "Your bottom is not as big as it was the last time you were carrying."
Damn. Harsh truth, but she's not wrong. And really, I don't mind hearing it. I'm hoping for just one. I love both my girls, but they were a lot to have all at once. "It'll be nice to have quiet time with my mate again that doesn't involve him massaging all my hurting parts," I joke. "I feel like that's all we do now."
Asha's mouth curls into a sly smile and she begins to speak, and then pauses, because the girls rush in.
"Mama, look at the scraps we got," Elsa bellows, her sister right behind her.
I put a finger to my lips, indicating that they should be quieter, but luckily Shema keeps on sleeping. The girls settle down in front of me and pick through the bits of leather that Hemalo has given them. They're pretty, the little castoffs, in all kinds of colors and shapes. I'm teaching them to sew them all together, and once it's made a patchwork fabric, we're going to cut it down into a tunic. I figure if they practice on scraps, they won't waste good leather…plus the patchwork effect is rather nice and it gives them something to do while I nap all the damn time.
Asha leans over and points at one of the scraps. "This is very pretty. Zalene has a tunic in this color, yes?"
Elsa nods.
My Anna turns to me and gives me a thoughtful look. "Mama, how did you and Daddy resonate?"