by Ruby Dixon
And, greatly daring, I brush the backs of my fingers over her cheek. I should not, but I cannot help myself. I can no more resist touching her than I can resist breathing.
I wait for her to shove my hands away. I wait for her to scowl up at me. But she only gazes up at me, her eyes big in her round human face, and then she nods, wincing. “They do hurt.”
“Then let me help.” Let me take care of you, my mate.
When she doesn’t protest, I throw my pack down on the ground and pull a few things out of it. My strikers, for starting a fire. My bag of collected tinder and fluff, and a few dried dung-cakes scooped up from the trail for future use. Then I close it again and gesture that she should sit on it. There are no comfortable sitting mats here, and my mate will not be forced to kneel on the cold ground.
She sits down heavily, and I realize how tired she is. I stroke her soft hair — again, unable to help myself — before I get up and begin to craft a fire pit nearby. There are no rocks to encircle it, but the floor itself is of a stone-like surface so I clear it of deadfall and start my fire. My Jo-see needs warmth, a meal in her belly, hot tea, and a poultice for her burned hands. With no wind to hamper me, the fire starts easily and soon I have it stoked to a brisk flame. I feed it all the tinder in my pouch and then grab a handful of the debris I had shoved aside to stoke it higher.
“Can…can we move my seat closer?” Jo-see asks, getting awkwardly to her feet. “I’d do it but my hands are starting to sting pretty bad now.”
“Yes,” I tell her, and move the seat close enough so she can enjoy the fire. I set up my tripod and then head to the entrance to fill the water-sack with snow to boil. I sprinkle some herbs to make tea, and then glance at the entrance. Jo-see’s things are spread out on the snow. It looks as if she scattered them in her haste to come help me, and I feel a surge of affection and lust for my mate. My clever, brave Jo-see. “Wait here and I will get your things,” I tell her.
“Not going anywhere,” she says faintly, staring down at her hands.
They are paining her more than she wants to admit. I hate that. I grab her things, gathering her furs and her supplies in my arms. Her pouch of travel rations is impossibly light, almost empty, and I feel a pang of unease. What if she had run out? I picture my mate starving as she plods endlessly on the trail and frustration wells inside my breast. Now is not the time to chastise her. I fill her satchel with armfuls of snow and return with the things to her side.
“Here,” I tell her, opening the mouth of her bag. “This is full of snow. Put your hands in here. The cool of the snow will help the pain. I must go and get more fuel for the fire and some liidi stalks for your hands.”
“Lee-dee?”
“It is a plant that grows like a vine amongst the rocks. It is good for burns. Helps them heal faster.”
She nods and sticks her hands into her bag, whimpering when the snow touches her skin. “Get me a whole bushel then.”
I will. “Do not leave the fire. If the metlaks return, they will not come close.”
She looks up at me with worried eyes. “Will you be all right?”
My khui’s song grows even louder, and I rub my chest, fighting the lust I feel. She worries for me? “I will be fine. Have no fear.”
Jo-see nods. “Hurry back.”
12
HAEDEN
Every moment away from Jo-see’s side feels like salt-water poured into a wound. Even though I know she is safe with the fire, I think of her with her hands pressed in the snow, of the pain she feels, of the metlaks returning and finding her unable to pick up a weapon. I must gather more fuel, though, or we will not be safe through the night. And more than anything, Jo-see needs the liidi stalks. I hurry, racing through the churned snow, following the trail of dvisti and scooping up their leavings. Once my bag is weighed down with dung, I race to the nearest cliff and pry apart the cracks in the stone with my knife, looking for the twisty, skinny roots that grow between the cracks. When I find enough to satisfy me, I head back toward the cave. A hopper jumps out of the bushes a short distance away and I toss down my supplies to hunt a fresh meal for Jo-see.
When I return to the cave, she’s sitting by the fire, her hands in the bag, resting on the melting snow. The fire is crackling, and I watch her nudge the coals with the tip of her boot every so often. Her eyes brighten at the sight of me, laden with a fresh kill and bulging pouches. “I’m glad you’re back.”
My face cracks into a smile. She is glad to see me.
Jo-see looks startled at my smile and hers widens. “I hope you brought plenty of that lee-lee root, because my hands are killing me.”
“Killing you?” I rush to her side, dropping my burdens. “You are dying? Let me see them!”
“Wait, wait! It’s a figure of speech,” she says, and the words mean nothing to me. But she pulls her hands out of her bag and shows me the blistered skin. “It just means they hurt really bad.”
“Then we will fix it now.” I grab some soapberries out of my scattered supplies and go to the snowy ledge at the edge of the cave and wash my hands and the liidi roots clean. Then I return to her side and shove them into my mouth, grimacing at their terrible taste.
Her eyes widen. “I thought the roots were for me.”
I chew, my teeth grinding the tough roots. “They are,” I grit out. “The poultice must be chewed before it is spread.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “You’re going to spit that crap out on my hands?”
I nod. “I am going to spit this crahp on your hands, yes.”
“That sounds awful, but they hurt bad enough that I’m willing to go for it,” she admits, wrinkling her nose and watching me chew.
The roots are very fibrous and have a sharp, bitter taste to them. They also leave the lips and tongue numb, and by the time I spit the first mouthful out onto her palm, my stomach is turning at the flavor. She squeals in horror at the mushy greenish lump I left on her hand, but when I begin to gently spread it over her burns, her noises of dismay turn to a little sigh of pleasure. “Oh wow, it feels better.”
And because it pleases her, I gamely fill my mouth with more of the awful-tasting root so I can ease her pain.
By the time her hands are covered, my lips and tongue are numb, the taste of liidi feels as if it is etched into my teeth, but she isn’t making the tiny sounds of distress anymore, so it was worth every foul mouthful. I shrug off my now-tattered vest and tear it into strips.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“We are going to cover your hands so you keep the liidi on them until morning.” I take one thick strip and slowly wrap it over the poultice and around her hand. Her bones are so delicate that it worries me how easily she can be hurt. She does not have the protective bony plates on her limbs and covering her chest that the sa-khui do. She is all softness, softness that can easily be torn by a metlak claw.
“What about you?”
I tilt my head at her, pulled from my distressing thoughts. “What do you mean?”
Her cheeks are bright pink again. “You…you tore your clothes up for me. Won’t you be cold?”
Ah. I grunt. “The wind does not affect me as it does you. I am fine.”
She gives a little shiver. “I’m cold,” she admits. “Can you put my fur cloak over my shoulders?”
I finish wrapping her hands in the makeshift leather bandages and then place the cloak gently over her, bundling her warmly. It fills me with pleasure to be able to do these simple things for her. “Shall I roast your dinner for you?”
“I can eat it raw,” she says, a brave note in her voice. “But you might have to feed it to me.”
I ignore how my cock reacts to that. Of course I will have to feed it to her. Her hands are useless. I am filled with an odd sense of pleasure at the thought of her needing me. She has worked very hard to fight our mating, so she cannot be happy with this turn of events. “I will,” I say gruffly, and then pull my kill closer to the fire. I take my time cutting the choi
cest bits for her. The organs and some of the bones go into the pouch over the fire to make a tasty stew. We will need to make every bit of food count in case the metlaks return with more. I turn to her, a small chunk of meat in hand, and offer it up.
She opens her mouth and leans in.
I bite back a groan of need at the sight of her small, pink tongue. It is as smooth as the others have said, and my mind immediately begins to imagine it tracing lines over my skin. I shake my head to clear it and feed her the bit of meat. Her lips close over my fingertip and I feel her tongue brush against my skin.
This is…torture.
She chews, wrinkling her nose at the taste. I remember Jo-see is one of the humans that prefers her meat roasted. I bite back a smirk of my own. “Would you like me to cook it for you?”
Jo-see shakes her head and swallows hard. “I need to learn to like it.”
Not while I am around to take care of her. But if this is how she wishes to enjoy her dinner, I will humor her. I feed her another piece, and cannot resist grazing my thumb over her full bottom lip as I do. She gives a little shiver, and her khui grows louder.
Seeing her shiver reminds me of the fire, but I cannot build it higher without burning through more fuel and I want to keep it going all night because of the metlaks. Of course, thinking of the metlaks makes me also think of how she raced toward me earlier, screaming, fire in her arms. She could have been hurt. “It was dangerous for you to attack the metlaks,” I chide, and cut another square of meat to feed her.
“I’m not a wimp. And I couldn’t let you die out there.”
“I shall ignore the wound to my pride at the realization that you think a few adolescent metlaks can kill me.” I shove the meat into her mouth and watch her chew frantically. “What kind of hunter do you think I am?”
“You didn’t look like you were doing so well when I saw you,” she says as she chews. “Scuse me for trying to help out.”
“You could have been killed.”
She rolls her eyes and continues chewing.
“You should have come back in here and stayed safe,” I lecture, cutting my next bite smaller. My stomach growls but I ignore it. I will feed my mate before I will ever put a bite into my own mouth.
“It wasn’t like I had a choice.”
My eyes narrow as I offer her another piece of meat. I watch her take it from my fingers with her mouth and wait for her to chew for a bit before I speak. “Because I was being attacked?” I resist the urge to rub my chest out of pleasure.
“I didn’t realize you were being attacked when I came out. I was leaving anyhow. Once I saw you, I couldn’t just walk around you while you were being jumped.”
I frown at her words and feed her another tidbit. She was leaving? “Where were you going?”
To my surprise, her lip trembles. She pauses in her chewing and closes her eyes, then opens them again only after she swallows. When I offer her another bite, she lifts one bandaged hand and shakes her head. “I was leaving because…I have to save the others. I didn’t even know you were there.”
So she was not coming to save me? I am surprised - and irritated - at the sting I feel in my chest. She does not care for me after all. “What others?” I ask gruffly, shoving the bit of meat into my own mouth and swallowing quickly.
“The ones in the pods.” She gestures with her head, indicating something over her shoulder. “Remember when you guys saved us and six of the girls - Nora, and Stacy and the others - were in pods sleeping?” Her eyes get shiny but the tears do not spill forth. “I found more of them.”
“More pods?”
Jo-see nods, the look on her face heartbroken. “And they’re not empty.”
“More…females?” The unmated men of the tribe will be ecstatic. “Why are you so miserable? We can save them.”
“Because they shouldn’t be here,” she says angrily, jerking back. Jo-see won’t look me in the eye, either.
“Lies. That is not what you are angry about. You are angry at me.” As she glares in my direction, it dawns on me. “You are mad because you have to come back. Because you cannot leave them and you cannot free them on your own.”
“Oh, I can free them,” she says bitterly. “Free them to a death sentence. They’d die in a week, remember? I can’t kill a sa-kohtsk on my own.”
I watch her blankly, the realization that she does not yet care for me crushing.
If it were up to her, she would remain out here in the wild alone, forever. My wants and needs are nothing. The only reason she must return is for the safety of new human females.
Her mate is simply an annoyance.
JOSIE
It feels weird to realize I’ve hurt Haeden’s feelings. He’s silent as he moves around the cargo bay that we’re using as a cave, tending to the fire, roasting the rest of the kill and then scraping the hide clean with a bone knife. He melts more water, makes tea and then hands me a cup, all without a word spoken to me. His face is devoid of expression, features tight, and as he works with his back to me, his tail flicks back and forth like he’s pissed.
It’s not a good feeling. My cootie purrs a happy song, but I feel pretty fucking miserable. I just made this journey for nothing, Haeden was almost killed by metlaks, and I’m still resonating to him. Oh, and my hands suck. A little sigh of misery escapes me.
His entire body tenses, alert, and he glances over his shoulder at me. “Do your hands hurt?”
“No, they’re fine.” They’re numb and covered in goo, but they’re fine for now. Tomorrow I imagine it’ll suck to be me, but I’m trying not to think about that.
He grunts and turns back to poking at the fire with a rib-bone.
An apology springs to my lips but I bite it back. I’m not in the wrong, I tell myself. He should know that I don’t want to see him.
But then I think of the way he held me close after the metlaks ran off, and he stroked my hair like I was the best thing since sliced bread. The urgent desperation in him as he gazed down at me, like everything was right in the world as long as I was safe. The way he’d fed me bits of meat with such intensity, like his entire world centered upon feeding me and taking care of me.
I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. He’s made me the center of his world…and isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? A mate who put me before everything?
Except it’s Haeden, and that makes things tricky.
“I’m sorry,” I say after an uncomfortable length of silence once again. I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it if he doesn’t talk to me all night. I haven’t seen anyone else in days and that’s why I feel a desperate need for him not to be mad at me, I tell myself. If it were anyone else, I’d be just as unhappy.
But then I think, again, of the way he looked just before he’d hugged me in against him.
He grunts acknowledgment of my words but doesn’t turn around.
Clearly I’m going to have to say more. “This is just hard for me,” I tell him, resting my hands palm-up on my knees so I won’t hit them against anything. “I guess…sometimes I just want a say in something, you know? It feels like every time I turn around, the universe is deciding my fate for me and it gets old.” When he continues to remain silent, I add, “If you could go back and change things, wouldn’t you rather not resonate to me? If you had a choice?”
“No.”
“No?” I’m dumbfounded by his answer. Dumbfounded…and oddly pleased. I stare at his back, at his twitching tail, trying to understand. “Really?”
He nods slowly at the fire, but I know the nod is for me. “I would change nothing.”
Oh. Warmth furls through my chest. I think this is the first time someone’s picked me. Really picked me, not put up with me because they had to, or because the check for foster care wouldn’t come in otherwise. “Thank you,” I whisper. “That means a lot to me.”
“Clearly it does not, because you would not have returned for me.” He pokes the fire again, angrily. “It is easy to say words, Jo-see. It is
another to mean them.”
“I know. I know I’m making this difficult for both of us. I just…I need time, okay? I’m kind of gun-shy about not being wanted after my childhood.”
“Eh?” He turns to give me a narrow-eyed glance over one shoulder. “Guhn-shy?”
“It’s an expression,” I tell him. “Skittish. Wary. Afraid.”
He grunts again and the silence falls. Then, he tosses aside the bone he’s been using to prod the fire and gets up. He picks up the cup of tea that I can’t hold and brings it toward me. I drink a little with his help and he sets it down again, then crouches near me. “Why are you guhn-shy?”
I shrug and stare down at my bandaged hands that look like the saddest mittens ever. “Just had a bad childhood. Happens to a lot of people.”
He looks up at me expectantly. When I’m silent, he gestures for me to continue.
I wince. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”
The expression on his face grows wintry again. “How can I understand if you will not share?”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Because it sucks. Because it was a long time ago and I am determined to not let it control my life forever.” But he’s not wrong…he can’t understand how much it means to me to have a real family unless I tell him why. “This isn’t an easy story to tell.”
Haeden grunts acknowledgment and to my surprise, reaches up to brush a lock of hair off my shoulder. “Neither is mine, yet I told you.”
Fair enough. I nod slowly. “So…my parents gave me up when I was two—“
He interrupts, the look on his face intent, as if he must capture every single word. “I do not follow.”
Oh boy. Yeah, I can guess that something like that won’t make sense to him. In their small tribe, every child is welcomed with joy by everyone. “Well…there are a lot of people back where I come from. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds. So many that your mind cannot comprehend it. And sometimes these people are not…responsible, I guess. The people that had me didn’t want me and so they took me to a place called a state home and left me there. With strangers.” At his frown, I add, “The state home is where people take the children they don’t want and leave them for others to take care of.”