by Ruby Dixon
Hannah's Hero
Icehome Book 6
Ruby Dixon
www.rubydixon.com
Copyright © 2019 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
HANNAH’S HERO
All I want is Hannah.
We've resonated, but she avoids me. She has made it very clear that she wants no mate, whether he has two arms or four. But when others leave the Icehome beach camp for a getaway to a fruit-filled cave, Hannah wants to go, and she needs a companion.
Me.
For the first time, we talk...and I realize my female isn't as good as ignoring me as she thinks. She watches me with hungry eyes. She blushes at my bold words. When I touch her? She no longer runs away.
It is time I show her that a Strong Arm hunter can be the right mate for her, and that four arms can hold her twice as closely as two.
Contents
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
Chapter 22
AUTHOR’S NOTE
THE PEOPLE OF ICEHOME
RUBY DIXON READING LIST
WANT MORE?
1
HANNAH
I sit alone in the supply tent, gazing at the baskets full of dried food. There are dozens of them, but I know it’s not enough. It’s never enough, because there seem to be new mouths to feed every day, no supermarkets full of food, and more snow. Always more snow. All of it worries me. So I sit down each morning to try and figure out how much food we have and how long it’ll last. There are thirteen baskets of the spicy trail mixed called “kah,” four small baskets of different types of leaves for tea, three large baskets of strips of dried meat, and one basket full of rendered fat. There’s the food that’s found on the beach or brought in by hunters, but we can’t count on that, so I assume every day that we’re going to eat what’s stored.
The headcount fluctuates too, which means I need to redo my counting every morning. Salukh and Pashov are about to head home the next time Veronica and Ashtar head out, so soon I’ll be able to take them out of the equation…unless someone new from the Croatoan village decides to show up and throw my theory out of whack. There are sixteen human women from our stranded group, four gladiators, three men from Clan Strong Arm, four men from Tall Horn, four from Shadow Cat. I dip the end of my sharpened bone stick into my pot of charcoal and make marks on the flat, pale animal skin I use for such counting. There’s Liz and her family—five marks. No, four since the baby isn’t eating our food. There’s Brooke and her mate, Taushen. There’s Harlow and Rukh and their son, Farli and Mardok, and now Gail and Vaza and their baby.
I calculate how much food can last how long to feed forty-four people. If we take one basket of meat and make a stew with two baskets of root vegetables and this planet’s version of dried seaweed—of which we have fourteen baskets combined—then we can feed everyone for…one meal. The awful, crawling feeling in my stomach returns as I do my daily tally. I stare at the baskets and baskets of food, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Maybe we can do two baskets of vegetables and half a basket of meat to make things go further.
Even though the hut is full of food, it’s less than a week’s supply. That’s not good.
I busy myself with my calculations, losing myself in the need to control the situation. I know I’m being overly controlling about it. I know no one worries as much as I do about the food situation. New meat is brought in every day, but we also have to eat several times a day, and as the weather gets colder and worse as time passes, I worry there won’t be enough. No one else seems to worry over such things, so I take it upon myself to try and handle the situation.
I tried to make Vektal realize how important it was, but he just gave me a lot of annoyed looks and did his best to avoid me until he returned home to his wife. I don’t think I’m that annoying about this kind of thing…am I? I gaze at the basket of dried meat and tap my bone “pencil” against my lip, thinking. How can I make this food stretch? What if we did three parts vegetables to one part meat? How many days of food would that garner us in case of emergency?
I frown to myself and make new scratch marks on my tally sheet, trying to figure things up, just like I do every morning. It keeps me away from the others and gives me something to do. If I’m working on math, I don’t have to think about home, and everything I lost.
If I’m hiding in the supply tent, I don’t have to think about my new home, either, and the hunter with the long braid that stares at me every time I venture near the fire.
Footsteps crunch up on the pebbled sand outside. “Oh Jesus, what is it now?” I hear Bridget’s annoyance. “Why are you following me? Again?”
“Because we must talk, Bree-shit.”
I smirk to myself at that. I know Bridget hates it, but it is pretty damn funny. I do feel bad for her, though. Ever since she hooked up with the hot bearded guy from the cat tribe, he hasn’t left her alone for a second. And she is done with him.
“Dude, I’ve said all I wanted to say to you. I’ve said it twice, even. Can you just leave me alone?”
I wince at the annoyance in her tone. Everyone knows about how things have been going between Bridget and A’tam. It’s a small camp and everyone talks…but I still feel a twinge of guilt that I’m overhearing what should be a private conversation. The thick hide walls of the tent I’m in don’t muffle enough of their voices to keep their secrets, and I have a feeling I’m about to hear far more than I should. I pause, wondering if I should speak up so they know I’m here.
“I wish to know why you avoid me, my mate.” A’tam sounds frustrated.
Bridget makes a gargling sound that makes me wince in sympathy. “A’tam, I’m not your freaking mate! It was a hookup! That’s all! How many times do I have to tell you this?”
“I…do not understand.”
“Clearly.”
I bite my lip, trying to concentrate on my counting and give them privacy—at least mentally. Assuming that there was no new meat coming in through hunting in the next two days—
“You took me between your thighs. We mated. That makes you my mate.” Frustration seeps through A’tam’s tone.
“No, it doesn’t. Resonance chooses, remember?” Bridget sounds like she’s gritting her teeth.
“You are my pleasure-mate, then,” he tries again. “Until I must give you up to another for resonance.”
“Well I’m sure glad I have a say in the matter,” Bridget says sarcastically. “Look, A’tam, it was a nice night together, but that’s all it was, okay? I thought you were cute, but clearly I have bad taste in men as this ongoing conversation proves. I’m not looking for a boyfriend or a pleasure-mate or anything. I just want to be left alone.”
There’s a long pause, and I hold my breath, hoping that they’re done. I wait, then bend over my skin, trying to remember w
here I was math-wise.
“So you tease me and torment me like the others? Like C’lie teases M’tok and H’nah teases J’shel?” There’s anger in his voice as he lashes out. “Do all the human females play cruel games?”
I stiffen, hurt and embarrassment flooding through me. There’s no working now. I chew on the end of my pencil, my ears straining to hear more even though I don’t want to.
Is that what they think I’m doing? Teasing J’shel? Tormenting him as some sort of sick fucking joke?
“Are you fucking serious?” Bridget’s angrier than I’ve ever heard her, and she’s practically shouting. “Get this through your fucking head, A’tam—I’m my own person. Hannah and Callie are, too. If they don’t want to fuck someone, they don’t have to. It’s not teasing, it’s called being independent, so go fuck yourself!”
“That is not even possible and you know it!” A’tam roars back. “I cannot fuck myself, female!”
I would laugh, except my stomach hurts at his words. Do all the human females play cruel games?
“Enough!” Raahosh’s angry, low voice cuts through the argument before it can start again. “You two are waking the kits up with your yelling, and I will not have that. My mate does not get enough sleep as it is.”
“A’tam thinks he owns me just because we hooked up once,” Bridget complains to Raahosh. “Can you tell him to leave me alone already? I keep telling him and he doesn’t get the hint.”
“Because you are not being reasonable—” A’tam begins.
“Enough,” Raahosh says again.
I really, really should point out that I can hear everything, but I’m frozen in place. The wind whistles against the doorway flap of the supply hut and I catch a glimpse of the distant, snowy mountains, and for a moment, I just want to run away and never come back.
“Go back to your clan, A’tam,” Raahosh says. “I will speak with you later. Let me speak with Bree-shit for now.”
“Bridget,” she mutters in a low voice.
Footsteps crunch in the sand again and I wait, hoping they’ve all left. To my dismay, the door flap to the supply hut opens up and Raahosh drags Bridget inside by her sleeve, parking her in front of him in the doorway. My eyes go wide and I stare over the cluster of baskets. Surely they’re going to see me in here?
“He doesn’t own me,” Bridget says defensively, raising her chin. “I don’t have to do what that dickhead wants.”
“I know this,” Raahosh says, his hard, scarred face looking scarily stern in the shadows. “You know this. But everyone is tense right now and you must not add fuel to the fire.”
She jerks out of his grip, adjusting her clothing and scowling at him. “Fuel to the fire? He freaking started it! I’m trying to avoid him and he won’t leave me alone!”
“He is not thinking clearly. I will talk to him.” Raahosh crosses his arms over his chest. “Look at things from his perspective. He thought he had a mate when you entered his furs.”
“I thought only resonance could choose,” she retorts. “Isn’t that what you guys have been drumming into our heads since the first day we got here?”
“Resonance chooses,” he agrees, his expression not easing in the slightest. “But they had no females left on their island. He thought he had a mate again in you and now that is being taken away from him. He is angry, and it does not help that his clan-friend will not mate with his female, either.”
Bridget makes an outraged sound. “I’m not Callie’s fucking pimp! I’m not going to tell her to sleep with M’tok just because her parasite told her to! She makes her own decisions.”
“They lost their homes,” Raahosh continues.
“We lost ours,” I say, unable to hide any longer. “Why doesn’t anyone care what we think?”
Bridget whirls around, her eyes wide, and then she shoots a triumphant look at Raahosh, who scowls at me. “She’s right. We have just as much reason to be fussy as they do, but you don’t see me beating my chest and declaring that a man should be mine.”
“I did not say his thinking was right,” Raahosh says with a fierce frown. “Only that I understood it. I have been where he is. He is desperate.”
“Not my problem,” Bridget says.
“It is not, no.” His eyes narrow as he looks over at me, then back to her. “But you cannot deny that some of the females are being unreasonable.”
I sputter. Unreasonable?
Bridget puts her hands on her hips. “In what way? Hannah resonated, so she should fling her legs open in gratitude?”
Raahosh’s jaw clenches. He sighs. “You are being impossible to talk to.”
“Maybe I’m tired of men feeding me bullshit,” Bridget says defensively. “This would never fly back home.”
He stares at her, hard. “You are not home, are you?” With a quick glance at me, Raahosh turns and leaves.
“Goddamn it,” Bridget mutters. She shakes her head, staring at the ground.
There’s an awkward silence.
“He’s being an ass,” I say after a moment. “Thanks for defending me.”
“Oh, I’m mad at you, too,” she says, not turning around to look at me. “If you weren’t hiding from J’shel and Callie wasn’t ignoring M’tok, A’tam wouldn’t be on my ass so much. You’re part of the problem.” She casts me a look and then leaves.
I stare at her retreating back, open-mouthed. It hurts to hear that from her, but I know she’s frustrated. I know that A’tam has been pointing the finger at myself—and Callie—while he chases Bridget. I know everyone looks at me wondering what the hell’s wrong with me because I turn and run the moment I see J’shel.
But they’re not in my shoes. They don’t understand.
I stare down at the skin, full of math and hash marks, and wonder how many meals extra we’ll have if all these arguments make it impossible for me to eat. I’m sure not hungry right now. With a defeated sigh, I pick up my things, roll up my skin, and head out of the tent.
My stomach rumbles as I head back to my bed in one of the small caves. All of the single women camp out in the same cave together, which is sometimes nice and other times really annoying. To my surprise, Callie’s in there, still in her blankets, and she rolls over and pulls them over her head when I come in. Guess she doesn’t want company. That’s fine, I never know what to say to her anyhow. Hey there, how’s avoiding resonance treating you?
Because for me, it’s pretty awful.
I put my things away and hesitate. There’s a real temptation to crawl under the blankets and pretend this horrible, horrible world doesn’t exist, but that won’t solve anything. And I’m hungry, so I head back out, moving towards the main fire. I cut through the camp and see Gail is there with her cute baby in her arms, and she’s talking to Raven. Two men sit next to the fire, but to my relief, neither of them is J’shel, which means it’s safe. I head forward, determined to get a bowl of whatever today’s breakfast is.
Just then, my cootie fires up, rumbling loud and angry and sending pulsing heat through my body as if someone just touched my clit. I shudder, and I’m not entirely surprised when J’shel arrives with an armful of driftwood. He dumps it in front of the fire and straightens, his hand going to his chest as he stares at me.
I can’t help but stare back. I want to tear my gaze away, but it no longer feels like it’s my decision. It’s like my cootie has decided that we’re devouring each other with our eyes and I have no say in the matter. Maybe it’s the cootie influencing me, or maybe it’s something else, but J’shel is the most attractive alien I’ve ever seen. Like…mouthwateringly attractive. All of the aliens are big and brawny, with a height that makes every girl feel tiny. J’shel has smaller horns than some of the others, his no-more-than-slender arches that wing along his temples as if holding back his long, thick black hair. It’s pulled into an ever-present braid and I swear his braid is so long that it reaches past his backside, so I can only imagine the thick curtain of it loose and flowing down his back. Like the other
s in his Strong Arm tribe, he’s got an impossibly thick torso and four big, brawny arms, but it somehow doesn’t look weird on him. He looks strong and capable and just…brawny. Like us, the islanders aren’t as used to the cold and so he wears a fur cloak over his shoulders and long pants and boots and somehow even that shows off his intensely gorgeous body. There’s not an ounce of fat on him, and as I stare, I notice that he has the most intensely carved obliques that lead right into his loincloth and make me feel funny with heat. Of course, I realize that I’m staring and so I look up again…
And notice that he’s devouring me with his eyes, too.
It’s too much for me to handle. With a muffled sound of distress, I veer away from the fire and J’shel, and strategically retreat.
I don’t trust myself to get too close to him. If I do, I might forget how much I hate it here and pounce on his fine ass.
And I can’t do that. I can’t forget that I want to go home. That I need to go home. I refuse to accept anything else.
The entire world’s waiting for me back home.
2
J’SHEL
My heart sinks when my female takes one look at me and then races away again. I watch as she heads toward the beach and the edges of the great salt waters, and I wonder if I should follow. Then I imagine H’nah running into their dangerous depths just to get away from me. It would not be logical, but neither is avoiding resonance and she has done that admirably for the last turn of the moon.
I do not want her to be frightened of me, though, so I sigh and toss driftwood onto the fire. My hands grow sticky from the resin on the bark, and the faint scent of home touches my nose. Fierce, melancholy longing races through me. I remember days of climbing in the trees, eating sweet fruit and fresh ground nuts. I remember the taste of warm sviket, freshly killed, and the hot, sultry breeze ruffling the leaves of the tall tree I stood in. I remember climbing to the top and gazing out on a world that was green as far as the eye could see, right up until the edge of the water.