by Ruby Dixon
Two weeks ago I wasn’t pregnant. Or in love.
Now, nothing matters but getting home, taking care of J’shel, and living a very uneventful and boring life on the beach together. I look forward to lazy evenings by the fire, snuggling in the furs, and I don’t even mind that the rest of the tribe will be there. I don’t really care about them one way or another. I just want J’shel.
We pause near morning, long enough to sit for a time. I’m tired and sweaty, but I touch J’shel’s forehead, checking his temperature.
He snags my hand with one of his good ones and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “It was not my head that was hurt, little flower.”
“You sound better,” I tell him brightly, relieved. “And I was making sure you didn’t have a fever in case the bite went bad.”
“I am well.” He grimaces. “Other than I think my arm is broken as well as skinned.”
Ew. “Poor thing. Keep your sling on. How do you feel otherwise?” I slide my hand out of his and press my fingers to his cheek. “Any other injuries?”
“My arm hurts like I have never felt such pain before.” He gives me a half smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I will live.”
“More leaves?”
“No. I want my head to be clear in case I must defend you.”
I’m still skeptical about that, since his color is pale, but as he’s a chameleon of sorts, I guess I can’t use that to judge. “I’ll be fine.”
“You are tired,” he says, taking my hand in his and squeezing it. “I can see it in your eyes. Shall I carry you?”
“What? No! You’re injured.”
“Bah. I have three good arms.” And he gestures at me with them.
“Don’t think I don’t notice how number four’s totally fucked up, though,” I snap back. “Honestly, J’shel, I can walk.”
“Even if we continue on through the day? I know it is hard on you and B’rukh.”
I glance over at the other couple. Taushen sits on a rock next to Brooke, and she leans heavily on him. She hasn’t complained once, though, and neither has Taushen. “I think we’re all tired, but I can keep going.” I’ll feel better when we’re all safe on the beach and as far away from the mountains and Old Grandfather as possible. More than that, I want J’shel to get looked at by the healer as soon as possible.
So yeah, I’m tired, but I can keep going.
I’ll walk as long as I need to in order to get him to safety. “We can rest when we’re home,” I tell him brightly and then squeeze his hand. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
“Do you not want to rest for longer, my little flower?”
“Oh, I do,” I tell him. “But if I sit down, I worry I won’t be able to get up again. So let’s just do this.”
“I’m ready, too,” Brooke says, getting to her feet with a groan. “How far are we from the beach?”
Taushen gets to his feet, spear in hand. He studies J’shel, then takes his pack from Brooke’s shoulders. I stubbornly hold onto mine even when J’shel tries to take it from me, and scowl at him until he gives up. “If we walk all day, we can probably make it to the beach at sunset,” Taushen says.
“Then let’s get going.” And I hold a hand out for J’shel. “Will you be able to keep up?”
He nods, takes my hand, and leans in. “I can still carry you,” he murmurs.
I ignore that. Stubborn man.
By the time we make it to the cliffs of the beach, I’m dead on my feet and stumbling with exhaustion. My feet have been hurting for hours and I feel like I ran out of juice at lunchtime. I haven’t stopped, though, because it’s more important to me that we get J’shel to the healer and get his swollen arm looked at. My poor man has been stoic all through the travel, but I imagine he’s as tired as I am, and when he puts an arm around my shoulders, I don’t mind if he leans a little heavier than he realizes.
That’s what I’m here for—to help him when he’s struggling, after all.
“I can see the great salt water up ahead,” Taushen says, calling back to us. He and Brooke have been moving just a little faster than we have, and J’shel and I are a few paces behind. There’s been no sign of sky-claw or anything out of the ordinary. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d say it’s been a nice day.
I squeeze J’shel’s hand. I’m like a car that’s been coasting on fumes only to find out there’s a gas station at the next exit. “You hear that, babe? The beach is just below. Just a few more steps and then we’ll get you all snug and cozy in the furs, get the healer to take a look at that arm of yours, and spend the next week under the blankets eating meat.” I beam up at him. “Doesn’t that sound amazing?”
“You will be with me?” he asks, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “You will not change your mind once we are back with the others?”
“After all this? God, no. You’re stuck with me and our nugget.” I pat my stomach, where it’s still strange to think that a baby might be growing.
“I like the idea of being ‘stuck,’” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Stuck kissing my mate every morning, stuck with her in my arms, stuck with her sitting on my face while I lick her cunt—”
“Whoa there!”
Now he frowns at me. “You do not want to do this?”
“Can we use our inside voices?” I hiss at him, glancing up ahead at Taushen and Brooke. Luckily, they don’t seem to have noticed the dirty talk. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex right now.”
“I am always thinking about your cunt,” he admits, dropping his voice lower. “If you did not blush when I said bold things to you, I would not say them so much.”
“You’re terrible,” I whisper, but I also can’t stop smiling. Or blushing. Damn it. “Let’s start with healing, and sleeping, and then we’ll progress to face-sitting when we’re both feeling better, all right? I don’t know if I have the energy for that.”
“It does not require much,” he points out. “You just sit and my tongue—”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupt. “Fine. You win.”
“You are still blushing.”
So I am. I don’t even mind. This is what life will be like with J’shel, I realize. Lots of teasing. Lots of attention and words that make me blush. But…I don’t mind. I always feel sexy around him, like I’m the hottest shit he’s ever seen. He can flirt with me all he wants. He smiles down at me, so handsome and so stinking happy and my heart swells with adoration.
“I love you,” I say suddenly. “Have I told you that?”
He shrugs. “There is no need to say it aloud. I know these things.”
I arch a brow at him. “You do?”
He lifts our joined hands and kisses my knuckles again, even if it means stooping down. “I have seen how you look at me. You have seen how I look at you. There is much love between us.”
“You don’t think it’s too fast?”
J’shel snorts. “Again, you and ‘fast.’ Nothing between us has moved fast, my H’nah. Did you not make me wait long, long turns of the moon for you?”
“Maybe not ‘fast’ by your standards,” I say. “But as humans go? We’re moving in together pretty quick.”
“Then humans are foolish to waste so much time. I want my mate in my arms every night and I want to see her smiling face every morning.”
I want that too. I open my mouth to speak when there’s a loud cheer from below. It sounds distant but human. Taushen has stopped at the edge of one of the cliffs instead of taking the path down to the beach, and we move to his side, joining him. I fight back annoyance. My feet fucking hurt and I want to sleep for two days straight, but if we need to be careful going into camp…
The sight below is strange. A portion of the sandy beach has been set up for relays, with “lanes” in straight rows and several of the largest pieces of driftwood lined up on the side as seating. They’re empty, though, and another cheer rises from the group. I look down at the huts and see no one’s by the central fire. Everyone’s gath
ered around what looks like another cordoned off area, this one a big circle lined with rocks. Inside it, I can make out two male aliens fighting. One is pale blue and when he flexes, I see four arms. The other I can’t make out. Someone with a beard.
“What the fuck is going on?” I exclaim.
“Maybe the games?” Brooke says, shrugging. “Who knows?”
Another cheer rises from the group.
“KICK HIS ASS!” a woman bellows.
“That would be Bridget,” Brooke says, laughing. “Jeez, she’s got a pair of lungs on her. So is A’tam fighting then?”
“I see a beard?” I watch the four arms fly again, and then the man takes on his bearded opponent—who must be A’tam—once more. “Is K’thar fighting him?”
J’shel stiffens next to me, and his grip on my hand tightens as the four-armed man expertly flips his opponent to the ground and then pounces on him. There’s another groan from the audience, and Bridget’s voice hoots loud with amusement.
“That is not K’thar,” J’shel murmurs. “That is N’dek.” And he laughs, the sound pure joy. “And he is winning!”
I gape down at the crowd on the beach. Sure enough, when the two men grab each other again, the four-armed one quickly takes over his opponent. They clash, then back up, and as he does, I see he’s wearing what looks like a loincloth and has a big white boot on. No…not a boot. A prosthetic.
“I knew he would come to himself,” J’shel says quietly, and he’s squeezing my fingers so tightly that they smart.
“It looks like he and A’tam fight for Bree-shit,” Taushen says. “I remember fighting for Tee-fah-ni like that.”
Brooke lightly slaps his stomach. “I’m glad you didn’t win that particular fight.”
He just grins at her. “Oh, I did. But resonance—and Salukh—ensured that it did not matter. At the time I was very upset. Now I see it all happened because I was waiting for you.”
“Good answer,” Brooke says. “Do we want to keep watching?”
“It’s clear who’s going to win,” I say before anyone else can speak. N’dek’s wiping the floor with his opponent, and that’s obvious even from a distance. “And while I’m all for some entertainment, J’shel needs the healer.”
J’shel squeezes my hand again. “I can wait. Let N’dek have his moment.”
“Fuck that. We’re going down there and getting the healer right away. They can just deal. You are bleeding.”
“Of course, my mate,” J’shel says with a grin, and I know I’m being bossy. I don’t care. When it comes to my man, I’m going to take care of him.
Everyone else can just step aside.
Just because we’re home doesn’t mean we can rest. When we trudge into camp, we interrupt the games and then we’re crawling with people who are thrilled we’re back. I’m hugged by people I always thought hated me, and even S’bren gives me a pat on the back, which I find surprisingly touching given our history. It’s like even though we’re assholes to each other, we’re also family and that takes precedence.
It feels weirdly good.
The entire tribe’s eager to see J’shel, of course. It’s clear he’s adored by everyone and he accepts the hugs and slaps of greeting as if he has all the time in the world. Then we have to have a conversation with R’jaal and Raahosh about Old Grandfather and his (or her) egg and how to avoid that territory. They’re all content to talk until dawn if need be. I’m the one that gets pissy and demands the healer come and take a look at my J’shel and then it’s like everyone suddenly notices he’s wounded. We’re helped toward the healer’s hut and soon enough, J’shel is seated inside the small but messy basket-filled antechamber Veronica has set up as her “office” and her hands are on my man’s arm while Veronica’s mate Ashtar tells us all about the games.
Apparently N’dek has been kicking ass and taking names.
Apparently N’dek made himself a prosthetic leg with Devi’s help and Mardok’s, too.
Apparently N’dek and Bridget have been getting close, and N’dek is also friends with Devi. Bridget’s jealous of Devi and A’tam is still after Bridget and those four have been arguing all over camp and making all of the games ultra-tense.
It sounds like a damn mess and I’m tired just hearing about it. I know J’shel wants to talk to N’dek, who he’s very close to, but he’s not moving until Veronica gives him the okay.
“It’s definitely broken,” Veronica says, a frown on her face. “The bone snapped right where the sky-claw bit down. “There are two bones broken, actually. And these gouges look brutal.” She winces sympathetically. “I’ll do what I can to help, but it’s going to take some time. You’re lucky you didn’t lose the whole arm.”
I take one of J’shel’s hands in mine and squeeze it. “He’s a hero. He saved our lives.” He beams at me, and I feel like the luckiest woman alive. “What can we do to thank you, Veronica?” Maybe once his arm is healed I can learn how to hunt and we can bring them food or furs or something.
She hesitates. “This is going to sound weird, but…I need help running things around here.” And she looks directly at me, not at J’shel.
I frown. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m a mess, that’s why.” She makes an exasperated sound. “If there’s a healing herb of some kind, people drop it at my doorstep like I’m supposed to know what to do with it. Then they come looking and I have to dig through a million baskets while I’m trying to heal someone and it just ends up stressing me out. Ashtar wants to help, but he needs to go hunting. Staying around camp all day makes him crazy.” She bites her lip. “I need someone to help me organize if I’m going to be running a mini-clinic and to help me out when I have people in. Fetching water, making tea, things like that.”
“This sounds perfect for my H’nah,” J’shel says proudly. “She will keep everyone in line.”
“I need that,” Veronica says, gesturing at the wall of baskets behind her. “Someone came looking for something called sour root and I was like…how am I supposed to know? But it’s good for headaches and so I’m supposed to have it and…” She throws her hands up in despair.
It sounds…too perfect. “You’re not messing with me, right? This isn’t a ‘keep Hannah busy’ sort of project that R’jaal or Raahosh set you up to?”
She looks confused. “I haven’t asked them about it. Do I need to? Everyone just keeps popping in with injuries because of these stupid games and I’m a damn mess.” Ashtar puts a comforting hand on her arm.
I glance at the baskets. They are clustered in no particular order and look as if they’ve been made by several different hands. “So you need an organization system?”
“And someone to help me slap hands when people show up and just start grabbing things,” Veronica admits. “And to let me know when things I’m supposed to have are running low so I know to ask people for more. There’s actually a lot I could use help with because I don’t know if you noticed, but these people like to get injured.”
She looks so stressed that I smother a laugh. “I would love to help you get organized and slap hands away. If you’re sure.”
“You would be saving my life,” she exclaims, and when Ashtar gives his mate an alarmed look, she adds, “figure of speech.”
J’shel squeezes my hand and when I look over, he’s got this expression of pride on his face, as if I’ve done something important. Me. It’s silly, but I feel so good. I feel wanted. I don’t even care if it’s just counting roots for Veronica and chasing tea-snatchers out of her hut. I just need to feel like I belong and this will help. “I’d love to,” I say again, and then point at J’shel’s arm. “Once he’s been taken care of.”
“I’ve done all I can for now,” she says, carefully extending his arm back toward J’shel. “Keep it in the sling and don’t use it, and come back in the morning and I’ll keep working on it.” She smiles brightly at us. “For now, you two should probably head out. You look so tired you’re making me exhausted just looking a
t you.”
“We’re going home,” I agree.
“Home to my hut,” J’shel says. “H’nah is mine now.”
Veronica reaches out and impulsively touches my hand. She closes her eyes, and then pats my hand before releasing it. “Yeah, there’s already a bun in that oven. Glad to hear you two reconciled.”
I blush. Again. And once more when J’shel gets a rather self-satisfied look on his face. “We will go to our hut and—”
I panic, imagining the filthy things about to come out of his mouth. “Sleep for hours,” I bark out, jumping to my feet. “Right, babe?”
He grins slyly up at me. “Right.”
When we emerge back out to the camp, I’m not surprised that we get invited to sit at cookfires as we walk through. Everyone loves J’shel. K’thar and Lauren try to get us to eat with them, but Gail just hands us a bag of dried meat and shoos us away, and I’m so thankful I want to cry. At least someone realizes how tired we are. Brooke and Taushen have disappeared back to their own tent, and as we pass by the main fire pit, I see N’dek and Devi sitting together. Bridget sits on the other side of N’dek and A’tam is on the other side of Bridget. R’jaal’s talking to them all—or lecturing—and I carefully skirt J’shel away from that mess before he can get caught up in it.
“N’dek,” he murmurs as I drag him in the direction of the huts.
“Tomorrow,” I say. “You can talk to him tomorrow.”
“He still sleeps in the same hut I do,” J’shel warns me. “I invited him to stay when you would not look at me.”
“And because you felt the need to hover over him like a mama bird,” I tease. “That’s fine, and he can stay with us tonight, but tomorrow, he needs to find somewhere else to stay.”
“This is true,” J’shel says, not arguing. When I give him a surprised look, he adds, “I do not want to be interrupted when I am between your thighs.”