by Ruby Dixon
“You weren’t waiting for resonance?” I ask, surprised.
The grin he gives me is wide and warm. “I was until I saw you.”
That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. “Really?”
Harrec nods. “Standing over all the other small females like a mighty sa-kohtsk, your mane like a cloud about your shoulders.” He gestures, as if trying to encapsulate my tallness. “I said to myself, that is an impressive female.”
I stare at him. “Did you just compare me to a sa-kohtsk?” A horrified giggle escapes me. “You need to work on your compliments.”
He rubs his chin, pretending to consider this. “A very tall dvisti, perhaps? But with a better mane?”
I laugh harder. “That’s worse! You need to work on your skills, my friend. You have zero play.”
“Play?”
“You know…the ability to get a woman into your bed.”
“Truly?” He looks so sad for a moment that I feel like I’ve kicked a puppy. “Then I have no hope with you, pretty Kate?”
Oh no, he’s taking me literally. Gosh, flirting with an alien is hard. I don’t even know that I’m flirting at all. I’m doing good just to be stringing words together. “I’m teasing you. To be honest, I don’t know what to say. You are the first guy that’s ever shown interest in me.”
His eyes light up. “So you have never had a male in the furs? Then we shall experience things together for the first time.”
We’re both virgins? Oh, boy. “I, um, I don’t know if you have noticed, but I’m kind of shy about this sort of thing—”
Harrec’s crazy grin returns, and I admit, it gives me a warm feeling in my belly to see it focused on me. “Oh, I have noticed.”
“And I think I need some time to digest things. To get comfortable with the idea. It’s not a no, but I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for ‘yes’ yet.”
He nods and rubs a hand on the thigh of his injured leg. “And I should heal first.”
“You should,” I agree firmly. Waiting for him to heal buys me time. “That sounds like a plan. Friends until then?” I extend my hand to him, because it feels like we should seal it like some sort of agreement or something.
Harrec reaches a hand out to mine, but instead of planting it in my grip and giving me a handshake, he tugs me forward, pulling me closer to him. Startled, I let him pull me close. A moment later, our faces are inches apart, and we’re so close we could be kissing.
“Make no mistake, pretty Kate,” he murmurs to me. “I still intend to woo you. I will give you time to get over your shyness, but just because we have not resonated does not mean that my heart will forget yours.”
“O-okay,” I breathe, fascinated. Is he going to kiss me despite our agreement? Because I kind of want him to.
But he only grins at me, his gaze flicking to my mouth, before he gives my hand a squeeze and releases me.
And I’m…disappointed. It’s best for now, of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sit back and wish he’d maybe decided to kiss me after all.
7
Three Days Later
KATE
“What are you doing?” I shout the moment I enter the cave and see Harrec leaning up against the rocky wall, his bad leg stretched in front of him. “You’re going to get hurt.”
“Bah,” is all he says, and holds on to the wall as he tries to put his weight on his leg. His face goes tight as he takes a step forward and then spreads his arms wide. “Good as new.”
“Oh, clearly,” I snap back, putting down my basket and rushing to his side so I can offer him a shoulder to lean on. “You big idiot. You told me you needed to stay off of it for another two days.”
“I am tired of sitting on my tail,” Harrec says, sounding grumpy. “I wanted to see if it was better than I thought.”
“And the verdict?” I ask, slipping under his outstretched arm. He immediately leans on me, his weight heavy. “Because that look on your face doesn’t say it’s better.”
“Still hurts,” he agrees, wincing. “But I can move around, at the very least, and help out.”
“Or you can try to help out, fall flat on your face, and break something else, and then we’re stuck here for a few more weeks. I mean, damn, Harrec. I’ve never seen a grown man as accident-prone as you.”
He merely chuckles and then hisses as he tries to put weight on his leg again. Yeah, he’s got nothing to say to that.
“You’re sitting down,” I tell him, and steer him toward the only stool in the cave.
“Such a fierce female,” he murmurs in that flirty tone. I promptly ignore it and help him sit.
In the few days that we’ve been here, I’ve learned quite a bit about my companion. He’s thoughtful and kind, and funny, always doing his best to make me smile or ease my fears when I worry about something. His humor is ever-present, and while it’s taken a little getting used to, now that I’ve realized it’s sincere, I can handle it a lot easier. He’s also a hard worker, doing his best to help out from his stationary position by the fire in the cave. He cooks for me, even though I know he prefers his own food raw. He keeps the fire going, and today he’s been working on sewing a new tunic for me since I’m having to wear a makeshift one made from blankets just to not freeze my butt off when I go outdoors.
Since he’s injured, it leaves me with the bulk of the work. That means I have to get fresh snow for water, change out the baskets that serve as makeshift chamberpots, dump coals, collect more dung chips for the fire, and scavenge for food near the cave. It’s not so bad, though, and there’s a cache of frozen game close by, which means I just have to go and dig something up so we’re not eating all of our travel food supplies.
But I’ve also noticed that it makes Harrec incredibly protective. He hates it when I go out and he’s back in the cave alone. Even though I am a “strong female,” he still feels I’m not ready to hunt on my own, and worries over me. Each time I leave the cave, I’m subjected to a lecture on what to do if a wild animal approaches me, or how to look for deep drifts of snow, or how to find the easiest-to-use path, or to avoid this and that. I try to take it all in stride, even if it does make me want to smack him in the head for being so bossy, but I know it comes from a good place. Really, it’s kind of sweet.
Overbearing, but sweet.
Him trying to walk is a pain in the ass, though. “I thought we agreed you’d stay off your leg for at least another day,” I chastise him. “Remember the conversation we had yesterday after you tried this very same stunt?”
I’ve learned a lot about Harrec, but one of the things I’ve learned the most about this man? My god, is he ever accident-prone. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s not that he’s clumsy—he’s actually incredibly graceful in his movements. It’s that his mind is racing so far ahead of him that he doesn’t pay attention. In the few short days we’ve been at the cave, he’s accidentally burned food three times, his hand twice, accidentally cut the rope I worked so hard on, accidentally spilled the baskets full of supplies more times than I can count, and once even knocked fresh snow onto the fire and put it out.
It’s amazing he’s lived to adulthood.
“Sit,” I nag him again. “You’re less likely to get injured again when you’re seated.”
He thumps down on the stool and lets out a groan. “I do not like being so helpless.”
“And you won’t be in another day or so,” I tell him, sliding out from under his arm. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him and rubs his knee. “Let me check things and see how you’re healing. I’ll feel better knowing you’re walking around if your wound is totally closed.”
“Very well.” Harrec’s voice is tight, but he remains still.
I fuss with the leather bandages, undoing my careful knots. I check his wound daily, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for other than for it to look, well, like a big red wound as opposed to a big infected wound. The bone seems to have remained in place, and I just hope
that it’s aligned properly. Today, when I uncover his wound and bathe it carefully, most of the blood has dried away and left just a jagged scab. It’s closing up, and I’m actually really happy with that. “Your leg looks great, all things considered. Check it out.”
“I prefer not to.” His voice sounds funny.
I glance over at him, curious. “Something wrong?”
He’s not looking. In fact, he’s staring quite pointedly at the wall. He also looks really pale.
“Harrec?” I prompt again. “What is it? Are you hurting?”
“Is it all right?” he asks, and swallows hard.
“It looks to be. See for yourself.”
I wait, but he only gestures at me. “Bind it up again, please.”
“You need to look—”
He gives a tight shake of his head. Is he…sweating? Seriously? “I cannot look.”
“Erm, why not?”
“Just cover it. Please.” His throat works hard, as if he’s struggling to swallow.
Oh my god. “Are you scared of blood or something?”
That gets his goofy grin to return, though he’s still staring pointedly at the wall. “Not all blood.”
“Just your own?” I re-bandage the wound, knotting the leather tight again.
“Just my own,” he agrees, twitching as I work. “It makes me…black out.”
“Oh. Is that what happened on the glacier? I thought you’d passed out from the pain.”
“Perhaps.”
I find myself fascinated by this. “Is it any blood or just a big amount?”
He looks pale and definitely sweaty. His hand swipes over his ridged brow. “Is there a lot of blood right now?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m just asking. There’s hardly any blood at all. It’s all scabbed over.”
Harrec nods at the wall.
“Sure you don’t want to see?” I tease. At his horrified shake of his head, I can’t stop the giggle that escapes me.
“You are a cruel female to laugh at my pain.”
I pat the bandage. “You’re all covered up again. No blood to be seen. And I’m not laughing at your pain. I’m laughing at your reaction.” When he carefully glances over at his newly re-bandaged leg and then relaxes, I ask, “Does it hurt?”
“Only when I try to walk on it.”
“Then don’t walk on it, you goober. Nurse’s orders.”
“What is ‘nuhrs’?”
“That’s a person who takes care of you. Kind of like a healer. Makes sure you’re comfortable. Soothes your aches and pains.” I pick up the bowl of water I used to clean his wound and take it to the front of the cave to dump. When I return, he’s looking contemplative.
“Do you consider yourself my nuhrs, pretty Kate?”
Oh, there’s a mischievous look in his eye I’m not sure I’m comfortable with. “Well, seeing as how you’re injured and I’m not? Yes, I suppose I am.”
“And you must soothe all my aches?” The sly grin is crossing his face.
“Before you can even say it, don’t go there,” I retort. “I’m not giving any of the aches below the belt a massage.” When he howls with laughter, I know that I’ve guessed correctly, and I can feel my cheeks go pink even as I bite back a smile. I’m learning how to cope with his teasing and, well, it’s kind of fun. He makes me smile, even when I don’t want to. “Besides, you shouldn’t even be thinking about that right now. All I need to do to get you to lay off is show you a bit of bloody bandage.”
He immediately goes pale.
“I’m kidding,” I soothe. But dang. This big, strong, seven-foot-tall hunter faints at the sight of his own blood? “You really need to work on that, you know. It might be dangerous for you in the future.”
Harrec nods. “I know it is a problem, but I cannot help it. My mind sees the injury and shuts off.”
“Maybe we can try to work on that together, since we’re stuck here for a few more days. I can help you become used to seeing it, and maybe if we start with small things—like a finger prick—you can get used to it. What do you think?”
He watches me with a skeptical look. “And what will you work on?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I am to work on conquering my fears, perhaps you should work on yours as well.”
That makes me pause. “What are you talking about?”
“I speak of your fear of my compliments. Of your fear of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you!”
“Are you not? It has been days since I told you how I felt.”
It has. I’ve been incredibly aware of that. I’ve been brisk but friendly with him, and the moment he started to flirt, I either shut it down, ignored it, or did my best to find something to do outside the cave. Truth is, it’s not that I don’t want him to flirt with me, I just don’t know how to respond in the slightest. It’s easier to just avoid the situation entirely, even if I do think about it all the time.
“If I must work on my fear, you must work on yours.”
“What if I told you I was afraid of spiders?” I offer instead. “Could we work on that?”
“I do not know what that is. A creature from the human world?” At my nod, he laughs. “I cannot help with that. But if you wish to work on my fear of my blood, we must work on your fear of my affection.”
“I’m not scared,” I admit. “I just don’t know how to react.”
“You can react however you wish. Do you want me to stop?”
I squirm in my seat. I hate being put on the spot. “No?” I feel warm and happy at the sight of his broad grin, and add, “I like it. I just don’t know what to do about it.”
“Then it seems we have much to practice.”
I fight down the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I guess we do.”
HARREC
I watch Kate as she pushes her needle into leather beside the fire, her face scrunched in concentration. The weather has grown steadily worse over the day, and now the wind whistles outside, and we are trapped inside as snow blankets the ground. It will add another day to our journey, I suspect, but I do not mind this. More time alone with Kate? I am happy to have it.
After our discussion this afternoon, I have been thinking. There is no doubt in my mind that Kate is shy. It is not such a strange thing—I know Warrek can be very quiet, and when he is uncomfortable, he gets up and leaves. Kate’s response is to get flustered—adorably—and respond with harsh words. It is charming, but it does not help get her into my furs. I need her to feel more comfortable around me. I need to bring us together.
And so I think. And think.
There is nothing I want more than Kate in my arms, but she will need encouraging to get over her skittishness. I can make her laugh, I think. She smiles more easily around me now, and accepts my teasing with good humor instead of anger. Perhaps I need to push harder, to force her to be a little less comfortable around me. As she leans over the fire and stirs the stew cooking in the pouch, then glances at the cave entrance and shivers, I suddenly realize what I must do.
I sit on my plan, though I am nearly bursting with anticipation. If this works, I will have my pretty Kate to hold in my arms all night long. She will not be so shy then, I think.
“Hungry?” she asks, looking over at me. “I think the stew’s ready.”
“I should like a big bowl,” I tell her enthusiastically, rubbing my stomach. Her cooking is…well, it is not good. But she is learning, and even if I must choke down mouthfuls of poorly flavored stew, it is worth it for the bright smile she gives me. Kate scoops the bowl into the pouch, wipes the rim off, and then hands it over to me.
This is my moment. I take it from her, juggling it carefully. Then I watch as she turns and scoops herself a bowl. As she does, I discreetly spill mine all over the furs in my lap. “Oh no,” I say loudly.
She turns, and her eyes go wide at the sight of me covered in stew. “Oh god. Are you hurt? Did you burn yourself?” She puts her bowl down and rac
es to my side, yanking away the furs.
“I am fine,” I reassure her, though my lap feels a bit scorched despite the protection the furs offered. “I am lucky it landed in my lap.”
Kate just shakes her head at me. “You are such a klutz, seriously. I don’t know how you managed to make it to adulthood.”
I do not give her a word of protest, just watch as she moves with the furs to the far side of the cave. She spreads it out, but even I can see from my vantage point that it will need to be washed and hung to dry near the fire.
“It’s all over the furs,” she says after a moment, looking over at me. “I can clean it, but we’ll have to rebuild the fire to dry it.” Her gaze moves to the fire pit, where we have let the coals burn lower in anticipation of sleeping soon. Re-stoking the fire to warmth will take more fuel and will keep us both up until late in the night watching it, and I know she is tired.
“Do not worry over it,” I tell her, shifting in my seat. “I will sleep without it.”
“But…it’s cold.” She looks over at the privacy screen covering the cave entrance, where the wind whistles and bits of snow drift in. “And it’s just going to get colder.”
“It is not worth rebuilding the fire,” I reassure her. “We must conserve our fuel in case the snow grows too deep and we cannot go out for more for days.”
“I’m not going to let you freeze,” she exclaims, picking up her bowl and handing it to me. “Eat this. We’ll figure something out.”
I wait for her to invite me to her furs. It is the most practical of choices and will allow us to share body heat. I know the thought must have crossed her mind, because her gaze flicks to my bare chest and then skitters away again. Her shyness is winning.
We eat in silence, and I give a few yawns, hoping she will decide something. It must be her suggestion. I try to get up to rinse out my bowl, but she immediately fusses over me. “Don’t move. I’ll get that.”
“I hate being so helpless,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. I should be wooing my female and instead, she waits on me as if I am a kit. It is maddening.