Page 14 of Betrothed to the Yeti

“We’ve put them on the ground but with no organization,” she says, running her dirty hand over my hair. Her breathing labors to push the words from her lips. “We may regret this when they are competing for space, and we must move the seedlings. It will take a lot more digging.”

“Let me into your life, Jaya,” I say with one last kiss before I set her on her feet. “I can make everything easier if you allow me.”

Her eyes go round with shock when I punch the ground. An indentation, twice as deep as her pickaxe holes, is left behind. I punch my other fist to create a twin. After a step to my right, I punch both fists. Seeds embed themselves in the frozen dirt, some intact and some smashed. Bent over to dig another set, I miss her leaning over my arms. She brushes the edge of her ‘seed angel’ into the divots with her hands.

“I’ll dig for the rest of my days before I regret working alongside you, for this garden gives me hints of what makes you happy. Today, we worked together as husband and wife,” I whisper.

“Hopefully, it’s not the last time,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes.

Chapter 8

Pabu

Our days have fallen into a routine. Jaya fusses over Ku Huang, complains about the late arrival of the kids, and makes breakfast from the tributes. After giving me a menial chore, she goes out to her garden. When I work up the courage to join her, she shows me where to put holes to transplant our little sprouts. Something about seeing the delicate plants fills me with pride—our play made them. Is this how I would feel if I had young? I don’t dare reproduce—my darkness must end with me—but I can’t help but daydream.

As much as I love working alongside Jaya, standing at a window collecting images for my less innocent dreams has grown into an addiction.

Jaya drops the axe to wipe her brow with her mitten. Her steaming exhales envelop her in fog as she struggles for air. We’ve cleared a plot ten times the size of the original garden. She pulls a precious seedling from her dress pocket before dropping onto her hands and knees. The pose shouldn’t stir me, but my mating instincts awaken when she turns her back to me.

Ku Huang, sensing the danger I present, clamors to her feet. Instead of retreating to the far edge of the dirt patch I cleared, the dumb goat stumbles toward the temple. Jaya drops seedlings into the holes she made before smoothing over the ground with her mitten. She stops and glances over her shoulder when Ku Huang stumbles up the stairs.

An animal’s instincts never bring it toward danger—especially a mother with young.

I’m not the danger…

“Jaya,” I roar as I thunder down the stairs. I jump the last five with a crash, but break into a sprint as my toes hit the first floor. Curses fill my living room as I lament its length. I must reach her before whatever stalks her. Did the wolves return? My chest restricts with fear, squeezing my lungs. Panic wraps around my ribs and pushes my heart into my throat.

“Jaya, Jaya,” I wheeze between labored breaths. My door bangs against the stone wall when I throw it open.

“Did you finally tire of watching me work, or did your conscience kick in? Don’t tell me you cleaned up breakfast because your shadow was in the third window the whole time,” she says from her kneeling position. She props her fists on her hips and cocks her head with sass.

My feet pause long enough to grab Ku Huang from her struggles on the bottom step. Jaya gasps and jumps to her feet when I fling the goat over the threshold of my temple. I must fight Jaya as it is to abandon her garden. I refuse to force her to decide between her safety and the safety of her goat. Behind me, Ku Huang lands with the clatter of disorganized hooves.

“Hey,” Jaya yells. She shakes her axe at me, but at least she’s now armed. “You have no right—”

The growl of a tiger cuts off her protests. Her body stills except for her trembling bottom lip. Wide eyes plea for me to save her. The darkness I hold at bay roars to life. I release its leash and bare my fangs. The garden tints violet at the darkness’s possession of me. What I hate most about myself may be what saves her. I launch off the stairs at the juvenile tiger who has crested the hill behind Jaya. He bares his teeth at the competition for his prize. Did he think he would get two easy meals without a fight? He may have stalked them for the duration of Jaya’s gardening, but so have I. The small hunter is about to become the hunted…

...because I won’t taste him when my dark side takes over and strips the flesh from his bones.

My claws dig into Jaya’s shoulders as I pull her into the shelter of my body. Dots of her blood bloom into black stains on the top of her violet-tinted ‘traveling dress.’ Her cry is muffled by the fur on my abdomen. Despite her pain, she cowers closer to me when I roar over her head. The tiger must be stupid or desperate because he pushes upward to teeter on his hind legs. He’s not much taller than Jaya and straining the evolution of his species. Too bad his line stops with him…

“Pabu,” Jaya quavers.

“Don’t talk,” I whisper more gruffly than I intend, but the darkness is closing in on the civil corners of my mind. I must be certain she reaches safety before she goes into shock, or before I lose myself to a killing spree. “When he steps forward, I’ll throw you behind me. I want you to go inside and lock the door. No words. No distractions. Just go—”

Jaya

The tiger drops from his hind legs to four paws on the snow. It’s not a step, but enough movement to kick Pabu into action. He pushes me behind him as he leaps at the invader. My knees hit the bottom stair. Blinding pain short-circuits my brain. I must have cried out because Pabu puts his back to the tiger to look at me.

At least Pabu’s body turns to me…but the face he wears belongs to a stranger.

The mask of hatred and violence he wears is more terrifying than the threat of the tiger. Violet light shines from his eyes, melting the snow beneath him. His lips are pulled wide and his fangs drip with strings of saliva. The snarl he emits raises the hairs on my arms. What is he under the surface of humanity he displays? One claw-tipped hand stays pointed at the tiger. but the other reaches for me. I don’t doubt that I am prey, but to what end?

No way. My survival instincts kick into overdrive. I’ll ask Pabu about his baser self when it’s safe—if I ever feel safe again. My heart pounds louder than my boots up the stairs. I slam the door shut and lock it, despite extended-clawed beasts being unable to clasp the doorknob. I whirl around and press my back against the cold panels. My harsh breathing fills the room. Ku Huang has collapsed in her fresh straw bed but otherwise seems content and uninjured.

I clench my dress in my fist over my heart. Was I trying to save myself from being eaten or just consumed? The tightening of my lower belly is back. The sensations scared me the first time I bathed with Pabu, but now I’m receptive to what they are—desire. Fire dances up and down my limbs. My arms are blotchy with my surging blood. I’m more frightened by my reaction to Pabu’s defense of me than my brush with the tiger.Reverence. Devotion.Is my attraction to him because I was raised to honor the Yeti as the Protector of Humans? I never doubted his ability to save me. Is it because I have a champion of my own for the first time?

“That’s it, right, Ku Huang? I’m filled to the brim with a mixture of fear and gratitude—not arousal,” I call to my dosing goat.

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