Page 14 of Ice Planet Barbarians

Part Two

VEKTAL

My mate, the resonance of my khui, my new reason for existing, has just planted her tiny, strange foot in my chest and kicked. It’s almost as if she does not want to mate.

Her strange, dead eyes are wide with fear, no comforting glow in them. I want to tell her that she’ll be fine. That she’s mine now and I’ll take care of her. That we’ll take down one of the monstrous sa-kohtsk and pull a new khui from its depths so she will no longer suffer.

But I’m puzzled as to why she would hurt herself. I rub my chest where her tiny foot landed. Without her leathers, her body seems even smaller, and she’s soft and ridge-less. She seems to have forgotten this, too, as she gives me an indignant look, then howls with pain and clings to her foot.

I don’t understand her. Maybe her lack of khui is affecting her senses. “I will not harm you,” I say to her slowly, because she looks terrified. “You are my mate, now.”

“Tht hrt dmmt!”

“Let me see your foot,” I demand. If she has no khui, she probably does not heal as she should, either. When she continues to give me a frightened look, I reach forward and place my hand on her ankle.

She bellows something and thrashes at me again. Her hand curls into a fist, and she smacks it into my face, knocking my lip against my teeth. A flash of pain shoots through my mouth, and I snarl.

She immediately goes quiet, flinching backward, her hands raised to shield herself.

I am sickened at her reaction.

This woman, this small creature who has half the stature of a sa-khui is my mate. How can she possibly think I would harm her? But she is cringing back even now, as if expecting a blow to fall. Rage fills me, because this is not a normal response.

Someone has hurt my mate in the past.

I reach forward and turn her pale face toward me. She fights, but her eyes close again, and she begins to tremble. I gaze at her small, flat features. Her skin tone is regular, except for mottled bruising along one side. There is the evidence I suspected.

“Who did this to you?” I ask.

She trembles, but she doesn’t answer me. She’s not mute. She makes sounds, and I wonder if she hit her head. Or perhaps her people speak the nonsensical language of hard syllables she’s been filling my ears with. It sounds nothing like my language.

But then again, she is nothing like one of the sa-khui. I should not expect similarities.

I’m fascinated by her, though. The men of my tribe say that there is no pleasure like the taste of a resonance mate on your lips, and they’re right. Burying my face between her legs was one of the truest pleasures I have ever felt, and I want to feel it again.

It’s clear from her reaction and the way she cringes away that I’m the only one feeling this way, though. I’m mystified by her reaction, but it must be her lack of khui. She doesn’t feel the resonance like I do.

She doesn’t feel the teeth-aching need to claim. She doesn’t feel the hollowness of a lonely spirit. How can she? There is no khui inside her to resonate.

Clearly the gods have sent her to me so I might learn patience. I smile ruefully. It is not my strongest trait. “Very well, little one,” I say to her and brush my fingers over her strange, smooth skin. “You and I shall learn patience together.”

“Dnt nnerstnd yew.”

Her words trip and tumble off of her agile mouth. I notice her fangs are gone, and my heart stills in my breast, my khui ceasing its resonance. Despite her slapping touch, I peel her lips back to examine her teeth. Are they broken?

But no, it appears as if her small teeth are just that: whole and not nearly as large as my own front tusks. Strange creature.

I release her, and she slaps my hands away, her strange eyes narrowing. “Fckoffwth tht.”

Her body is different than that of a sa-khui. She’s soft and hairless in most places, and I haven’t seen a tail. And then there’s that strange nipple between her legs. I find it arousing because it makes me think of how she tastes. I want her on my tongue again. Even now, my mouth waters in remembrance, and my khui resonates in my chest.

So I just sit back and watch her, to see what she will do next.

She gathers her strange leathers around her, determined to cover her small, soft body. Is she cold? My protective instinct rises, and I turn to the fire, feeding more of the stored wood to it. I will need to chop wood and refill the stores here for the next hunter, but it’s a task I will gladly do for my mate. I want her to be warm and comfortable.

Once I build up the fire, she moves closer to it and puts her hands near the flames. They look . . . strange. “You have five fingers,” I tell her and hold my own hand up. I have four. It is yet another difference between us. I’m fascinated and a little revolted by those extra fingers.

Her hand touches her chest. “Shhheorshie.” She pats her breast again and looks at me. “Haim sheorshie.”

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