Barbarian's Touch: A SciFi Alien Romance (Ice Planet Barbarians Book 8) (18 page)

By the time I finish layering my clothing on, my tea is cold. I slug it down quickly and then head to Rokan’s side so he can finish tying my outer layer of furs onto my body. It used to be one of my favorite parts of traveling, because he’d pull me against him with the pretense of bundling me up, and steal a kiss or two. Now he’s all business, and it makes me sad. I know I told him I wanted time to figure stuff out, but I also miss his kisses.

Or my khui does. I still haven’t figured out which it is yet.

He’s all business today, quickly prepping me and demonstrating the knots this time so I can do it myself in the future. That’s depressing. I remind myself that this is what I wanted. I asked him to give me space.

I just didn’t expect so much space, I guess. Or I didn’t expect to care so much.

He puts on his own gear, grabs his spear, his bow, and puts his knives in their sheaths. I have a spear and my one knife, and the sight of all his weapons surprises me a little. The sunlight really is bothering him. Wow. I consider following his advice and staying in, but then what are we going to do? Sit around in the crashed ship and stare at each other while not talking? That might be more torture than I can stand. Plus, I think of the small animals that might be trapped in our snares, and I don’t like the thought of letting them suffer longer than they have to. And that sunlight looks inviting. I do believe it’s one of the first sunny days I’ve seen here since I’ve arrived - most days are just overcast.

That decides it, then.

The day is warm — well, for an ice planet - and beautiful. The breezes are mild, and the snow on the ground is bright and pristine. It reflects the sunlight, and I worry about snow-blindness. Rokan smudges some mud under his eyes and then my own, and I guess that’ll take care of things. Then we’re heading down the trails, following paths that I’m getting to know pretty well. I recognize this rock, that cliff, this little cluster of flimsy trees. It’s such a nice day I almost don’t mind that Rokan is silent, his hands quiet.

Almost.

Our first set of snares is empty, but the second one has a fat, wriggling weasel-like creature with hind legs like a long, gangly rabbit. A hopper, he calls it, and then waits for me to put it out of its misery. Today, I only cry a little as I grab it by the scruff and cut its throat with my blade. It’s meat, and it will keep us fed and warm, and I can’t look at it as anything other than that. Every day of hunting makes it a little easier, though I worry I’m too soft-hearted to be able to do this. I’d rather cuddle the thing than kill it, but cuddling it doesn’t put food on the fire. This next part is my least favorite - field-dressing the kill so I can travel without the guts and the blood ruining the pelt. I cut it open, remove the offal and bury it, then drain it of the majority of blood before tying it to my belt. It’s already crusting up with ice and in an hour, it’ll be frozen solid, its khui going dark.

Then it’s time to move on to the next set of snare traps. We have at least a dozen set over what feels like miles of trails. I clean my hands off with snow and get to my feet with Rokan’s help.
Lead on
, I tell him.

He nods and then gazes up at the distant cliffs, a frown on his face.

I tap his arm to get his attention and sign,
what is it
?

Just my feeling.

Should we go back?

Rokan gazes down at me for a long moment, then up at the cliffs.
No
, he eventually decides.
But let us hurry. Maybe there is bad weather coming in.

I give the sunny skies a skeptical look but pick up the pace when we start walking.

Our paths take us into one of the many valleys tucked between the jagged cliffs and hot streams. The landscape may be snowy, but it’s anything but bare around here. There’s rock everywhere you look, and clusters of trees and bushes. Reeds stick up from the banks of the sulfurous-smelling streams, and in the distance, there are the jagged purple mountains that stick up like teeth. It’s very pretty, even if it’s not particularly warm. I like seeing what the world has to offer, though; I prefer being out here than sitting by a fire and waiting for Rokan to return. Maybe I’m more of an outdoors-woman than I thought. I’m kind of proud of this, I realize, as I trek along behind Rokan into the valley, mindful of the cliffs with their overhanging icicles.

I’m lost in my own musings when Rokan grabs me by the shoulders and shoves me up against the cliff wall. The rock bites into my back through my furs, and I yelp. “What the fuck?”

The look on his face is intense, his eyes a startlingly vivid blue.
Know that you have my heart
, he signs to me, and then presses his body against mine, shoving me even further against the rocks. What the heck—

Then, I feel a purring. It’s not my khui; it’s doing the same low rumble it always does, and this one feels bigger. I can’t peer over Rokan’s shoulders, because he’s got me shoved hard against the cliff wall, his arms a protective cage over my head. He’s gazing down at me, unblinking, and there’s such an intense look on his face that it nearly takes my breath away.

The purring continues and I realize it’s coming from the ground - and the cliff wall behind me. Oh God. Earthquake? I peer over Rokan’s arms just in time to see a sheet of snow and ice cascading over the lip of the cliff.

An avalanche.

I scream as the world goes dark and the world shakes around us. Rokan’s body jolts over mine, but he never moves. The moment seems to last forever, and it feels like the world is collapsing. I cling to the front of his tunic, terrified.

All I can think is that he didn’t like the weather. He didn’t like how today felt. I should have listened. He knew. Somehow, he knew, and he pushed me out of the way before anything bad would happen. Just like with the birds—

I gasp, because I realize that he’s done this more than once. Maybe this ‘feeling’ isn’t all wishful thinking after all. “I’m sorry, Rokan,” I whisper to him, patting his chest.

He’s silent.

In fact, he’s really, really quiet, no touch, no comforting hand gestures, nothing.

My skin prickles. I give a little tug to his tunic to get his attention. His eyes are closed, so I can’t see their comforting glow. In fact, it’s pretty dark all around us, and tight. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic. “Rokan?”

He groans and his head lolls to one side. Snow rains forward, splattering my face. Then, he collapses forward against me, crushing me against the cave wall.

The panicky feeling rushes over me, and I try to wriggle out from under him, but there’s snow everywhere, taller than I am. I push at his arm, trying to see around him, but all I can see is Rokan’s big body and even more snow.

His lips move, and then he staggers to the side, and I can breathe. Fresh air rushes in. He gestures above him, indicating with slow, halting movements, that I should climb. I’m too panicked to argue; I use his tunic as a ladder and climb over his shoulders and out onto the snow.

The entire valley’s changed, I realize as I crawl forward. There’s a fresh layer of at least ten feet of snow, and it’s a miracle we survived. We would have been buried if it weren’t for Rokan and his ‘feeling’. I stare out at the new landscape, utterly chilled.

I turn around when I realize Rokan hasn’t followed me, and crawl back over to the hole against the cliff wall. He’s still there, his big body pressed against the rock and mostly buried in snow. His head has lolled forward again, and I see nothing but horns and dark, messy black hair.

“Rokan?” I call out.

If he answers, I can’t tell. After a moment, he doesn’t move, so I tap one of his horns. When he doesn’t respond to that, I pull on one of them and tug his head back.

His eyes have rolled back in his head. As I watch, a rivulet of blood trickles from one side of his temple and trails down his cheek.

A new feeling of panic rushes over me. “Rokan!” I release his horns and then start digging frantically. He’s been hurt, and I need to get him out of there. He can’t stay here - what if another avalanche is coming? As I dig, I frantically try to think what causes avalanches. Is it melting snow? Is it because today is too warm? Or is it that there’s too much snow? I burrow through armfuls of snow, calling his name over and over again.

Eventually, he jerks awake, and his head lolls back again. I nearly get stabbed with one of his big horns and I scramble to the side, caressing his face. “Are you okay?”

He tries to raise a hand to sign to me, but his movements are slow.

“I’m going to get you out,” I promise him, trying not to freak out. I dig further, pulling the snow away from his back and shoulders. My hands feel like ice but I ignore it, because I have to be strong right now. This is no time to be a wimpy human. Something’s wrong with Rokan and all I can think, over and over again, is that I should have listened.

Know that you have my heart.

I bite back the sob that threatens and sniff hard. I’ll cry later, when he’s safe back at the ship and drinking a hot cup of tea. Until then, I have to keep my shit together.

I continue to scoop at the snow with my hands. If it takes all damn day, I’m going to dig him out. As I dig further down, though, I see a lot of broken icicles mixed in with the snow behind his back. There’s one chunk the size of my fist near his shoulder, and it’s got blood on it. Did it hit him on the way down? I move closer to him and tug on his horn, tapping his cheek. He woozily leans back, blinking up at me. It’s clear he can’t focus. I peer into his eyes - his pupils aren’t like mine, so it’s hard to tell if one is dilated or not, but I bet he’s concussed.
Can you get up?
I sign.
I can’t carry you. You’re too big.

He reaches out and touches my cheek, then signs,
you okay
?

I shake my head and tug at his arm. “I’m fine, but you’ve got to get up, Rokan. You can’t stay here. We need to get you back to the ship - the Elders’ Cave.”

Rokan lifts one arm and then the other, and tries to pull himself free from the hole. He’s buried up to his waist in snow, and the spot that I vacated against him just filled in with more. I keep digging as he tries to slowly move his body free. It’s not a fast process, and he has to keep stopping, his eyes drifting shut. I tap him on the cheek, over and over again, trying to keep him awake. If he’s got a concussion, he can’t sleep.

If we have any hope of getting back to the ship, he can’t sleep.

After what feels like an eternity, Rokan is finally out of the hole. He rolls onto his back and sprawls on the snow, exhausted. I crawl over to his side and brush my fingers gently over his scalp, looking for the wound while he rests. It’s not hard to find - there’s an enormous lump on the very top of his head, and when I touch it, my fingers come away bloody.

My poor Rokan.

He reaches up and touches my cheek, then gestures.
You okay?

I want to cry.
I’m fine
, I sign back.
Can you walk?

I…try
. His hand flops back down to the ground, as if he’s too tired to say any more than that. It’s like a dagger in my heart, and I hold my breath as he struggles to sit up.

After a few moments of this, it’s clear to me that he’s not going to be able to stand without help. I move to his side and loop his arm over my shoulder and try to help him stand; it’s like trying to lift a dozen sandbags at once. My back and legs protest at the strain, but I refuse to give up. With a lot of wobbling and effort, I’m able to finally help Rokan to his feet. He hangs on to my shoulders and nearly drags me to the ground.

This isn’t going to work, either. It has to, though. “Come on,” I whisper aloud. “We’re going to get you home.”

We take two steps, and then Rokan topples forward, slumping back to the ground and spilling me with him.

I roll away, wiping snow off my face and turn back toward him, frantic. “Rokan!”

You okay
? He asks me with a slow hand sign.

I want to scream in frustration. He’s the one that’s hurt, not me, and the awful, wonderful man is worried about me and only me. Even now, he’s trying to protect me.

I need a new plan. I pull off one of my outer layers of warm furs and wrap his head to stop any bleeding. “You’re going to be fine,” I tell him aloud. “Let’s wrap up your head and get you comfortable, and then I’m going to go look for something to help us out, okay? Maybe a nice sled or something.” Oh sure, because sleds just grow on trees. I don’t know what else to do, though.

I can’t carry him. I can’t leave him here.

I
won’t
leave him here.

He grips my hand in his and pulls my fingers to his mouth for a kiss.
You’re cold
, he signs sleepily, his eyes closing.

The hot tears I’ve been fighting come rushing forward. I sob into the air and stroke a hand down his cheek. Right now? In this moment? I could care less if it’s the khui making me have feelings for him or if it’s the real deal. All I know is that I love him and he’s in serious danger right now.

I love you
, I sign, but his eyes are closed; he won’t see it.
I love you and I’m going to fix this, I promise.
“Then, I’m going to be your mate,” I whisper. I lean in and kiss his mouth, swiping at my icy tears. He’s falling asleep again, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave him here alone and defenseless.

I’m not going to give up, though.

I get to my feet and grab the shoulders of his tunic. All right. We’re not more than a few miles from the ship. Hopefully. I’ll just have to drag him to safety. I hold on tight and tug with all my might.

Rokan moves an inch. Maybe two.

“Come on,” I snarl. “Move!”

But it’s impossible. I try again, and again, but his shoulders only lift. I can’t move the rest of him; he’s too heavy. He probably has at least two hundred pounds on me and I’m not exactly a power lifter.

I can’t move him. I want to, but I can’t.

Desperate, I look around the valley. Maybe there’s bushes or trees or something I can cut down to act as a sled. But all I see around me is a blanket of white. There are a few trees at the far end of the valley, but then I’d have to somehow make it all the way there with him to chop them down, and I can’t even move him three feet.