11
Gleb
“Wolf got into my cache of rabbits,”
I reply, rubbing the back of my head.
Embarrassed that I’m caught with sloppy hunting by my mate, but hopefully a white wolf pelt will soften the disappointment.
“Wow,”
she says with wide eyes.
“How much of the blood is yours? Are you about to pass out on me? Should you sit down somewhere? There aren’t too many soft surfaces if you keel over.”
“It’s rabbit, wolf, and fox blood.
None of it is mine—I think,”
I say, checking my chest and arms for claw marks.
Every so often, I get caught by a rabbit’s back leg when I’m scouting out my next kill instead of paying attention to the wiggling animal in my arms.
“So, is there a stack of animal carcasses somewhere? Why did you have to kill so many—the wolf, I understand? That was eat or be eaten…but do you have a large appetite?”
“The rabbits will make the best jerky for our travels.
We shall eat the fox in steaks tonight as the meat goes tough the fastest.
The wolf makes less-tasty jerky, so I’ll save that for this zima …”
I trail off as thoughts of hunger gnaw at my insides.
Wolf jerky will taste like a feast when I’m starving and trapped in my winter home with no rations.
“It will help keep the pains at bay.
Under the ice is thin enough for ice fishing.
Chuchunya tools can drill through ice up to a meter thick.
Adam, Patricika’s mate, talks of human drills connected to engines that cut through ice two to three meters thick. With one of these machines, I could eat fish all zima …but without my connection to Adam, I don’t know who to ask to earn one of those machines.”
“Maybe after you return me,”
she replies, chewing her lip.
“I can give you such a drill as payment for helping me.
And before you argue—it’s the perfect gift.
I feel bad not pulling my weight and you don’t want my money. Hopefully, there’s a meeting place where I can give you the drill. Oh! And a generator. You will need a generator to power the engine.”
“It’s a kind gift.”
I will accept such nonsense because I’m not a fool.
She offers a survival tool and an opportunity to see her again.
With the thinning permafrost and climate change, ice fishing is easier than in my youth.
With this tool, I must collect sinew and whittle hooks instead of the backbreaking labor of collecting enough rations. “I have a gift for you, too. You will need to tuck your wet hair into a hat, but I promise you will be warm.”
She collects her hat and follows me to the surface, where I’ve set up a makeshift camp.
Water boils in my heavy bowl.
It takes up the most space in my travel bags, but I’m so grateful I had the means to make her cramp tea.
I downed a log across the entrance to the dyla weturanya and I’m pleased when she sits upon it without my inviting her. It means she’s more comfortable receiving my care. I use her cup to scoop a cup of steaming, bitter tea. If only we were in the southern grounds, I’d have dried berries to sweeten it.
“I’m sorry the taste is bitter, but it will help your pains,”
I say, offering her the mug.
“Thank you.”
She takes the cup and sips the liquid without question.
Another victory in trust I don’t deserve.
Although I fed her for days without her consent, I did her no harm…only her male.
“Once dinner finishes cooking,”
I say, turning the steaks on their rocks in the fire.
“We can go below.
I must bathe or the blood will attract every bear and wolf in a four-kilometer radius.”
“You can bathe now.
I’ll cook.”
“Too dangerous.”
“I’ve never cooked over an open fire, but I can certainly handle turning steaks—”
“The smoke obscures your scent, but the smell of the pelts drying can attract predators.
I refuse to leave you out here unprotected.”
“That’s the sweetest, most chauvinist thing anyone has ever said to me.
You can’t let the little human fend for herself.
What if I offer to scream for help? You must be uncomfortable, covered in blood.
Who’s to say you aren’t the one attracting the predators?”
“I am,”
I reply with a puff of my chest as I stand over her.
“But I won’t attract anything scarier than me.”
“Modest too,”
she says with some of her giggles that brighten my life.
“I’ve survived all my hunting days so far,”
I say with a shrug.
I climb over the log to flip the steaks, finding them tender with a charred crust like Sydney likes them.
“Is this done enough for you, or should I leave it on the fire for longer?”
“I usually don’t cook my steaks that long.
I like them rare…but that’s cow streaks.
Who knows ho w I like to eat fox? There’s a first time for everything,”
she says as I lift the steak onto a rock from the outer ring of the fire to allow it to cool.
I shake my head when she tries to take the rock from me.
Does she think I would allow her to burn herself? I hold my breath as she tears off a tiny piece and blows over the meat.
Oh, the way she puckers her lips is too tempting! What would it feel like to have them rain kisses over my face or somewhere more sensitive…? Turning my back to her, I remove the rest of the steaks from the fire.
I would eat them raw if I were alone, but I don’t want her to feel self-conscious for requiring the cooking fire.
“Is it bad that I love this? You live the ultimate keto lifestyle,”
she says, wiping grease from her chin.
I arrange my legs to keep my stone-hard cock from her view as I sit beside her.
The urge to lick the juices off her lips floods my mind.
With the cavern at our back and the fire warming our fronts, it’s almost cozy.
The icy rain pelting the top of my head ruins the illusion, but at least it isn’t snowing. We eat in silence, too hungry and tired for conversation. Watching my mate eat, clean and warm, allows my body to rest. I refill her mug, turn the pelts over the fire, and skewer rabbit meat to dry.
“Can I help?”
She takes the stick from my hand and waits for me to hand her a cube of meat.
“So much meat! How many rabbits did you kill? ”
“Six,”
I reply with a shrug.
“I wanted to have enough for your bleed time.”
“What? You must be joking…or a Libra…”
“The smaller rabbit pelts will fit inside your suit to catch your bleed.
They are smoked to mask the scent to keep predators from following you.”
“Wait, you killed these rabbits for me?”
“The meat is a bonus.
My priority is to keep you safe and comfortable—”
She hangs the skewer she’s filling on the rod over the fire to free her hands.
The pressure of her tiny hands on my cheeks shouldn’t hold me captive, but the determination in her eyes stills my hands.
Her lip trembles.
Glassy tears overflow her eyes and stick to her spiky lashes.
“Why me, Gleb? I don’t deserve your care.
I’m not a catch.
You don’t want my money.
I haven’t big boobs or flirty words. Why do you dote on me? You lost everyone you hold dear because of me, yet you are still loyal. Either you were hit on the head during my rescue or you are a saint in disguise. Nobody is this nice. Tell me something terrible you have done, so I know you’re real.”
“Something terrible?”
My tongue is too large for my mouth.
Voices war in my head.
Sergei tells me to confess.
Serik says to make something up. The good and bad sides of me threaten to tear me in half.
“Yeah, do you fart on your companions when you share a bed or stomp on bird’s eggs for fun? This nice guy, smitten with me for no reason, can’t be real.”
“I killed Jack,”
I blurt out.
“What?”
The blood drains from her face.
She goes as white as freshly fallen snow.
Her hands drop into her lap, leaving warm patches on my face.
“I didn’t lift him onto the bank.
He made me so angry, saying you were his in one breath and telling me to leave you on the ice sheet in the next.
I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.
He refused to carry Madison to make the swim easier for you and clung to me so I couldn’t carry anyone else. I didn’t have to drag you. Without his arms wrapped around my shoulders, I could have carried you and Madison in one arm and swum with the other. He could have linked with Ms. Greene…but he refused…”
It comes out like a goshawk chasing a songbird before crashing into the snow.
Those predators ram face-first into the ground because they are too focused on their objective.
She said telling her a terrible thing I’d done would make her feel closer to me.
I forgot the worst deed I’ve done is kill her pleasure mate. Why didn’t I ask about her feelings for him before confessing?
Because I’m too cowardly to listen to words of affection pour from her lips when she speaks of another male.
“He made you angry,”
she says with a slow nod of her chin, “so you killed him.”
“I let him drown instead of helping him onto the ledge.”
“That’s more than I can process.”
She wipes her hands on her suit and stands.
“Did I do it wrong?”
I babble when she raises an eyebrow at me.
“You said to confess something terrible, so you believe I’m a real Chuchunya.
Do you believe me? I’m not a dream, a human in a suit, a symptom of your hypothermia—or whatever you called it—I’m flesh and blood.”
“You’re right.
I asked for this.
Thank you for telling me the truth.”
She climbs over the log and heads into the dyla weturanya.
“I’m going to sleep on this.
Don’t worry about waking me when you come in.
Bathe, work with furs, sleep, whatever. ”
“Sweet dreams,”
I say.
My smile withers when she glares in return.
Hannah
I knew he had something wrong with him, but murderer?! Not just a random serial killer, but a rage killing of my boyfriend.
Why aren’t I furious? I swipe my hand under my eyes and find tears.
Am I really believing his pathetic explanation? He was pissed that Jack didn’t put Madison and me first, so he left him to drown.
More like Jack didn’t put me first. Gleb always puts me first, but who knows how he would treat a baby? His reason is too stupid to be a lie. I thought he was a saint…but saints don’t resort to murder.
I stomp down the narrow, dark corridor—less thrilled than the first time I ventured underground.
Am I safe with Gleb? My heart pounds with grief and panic.
If he killed Jack in a convoluted, chivalrous gesture, I’m safe until I try to leave him.
As long as I don’t piss him off, I’ll be fine, right? When I enter the large cavern, I reach for the light by the doorway. My short stature has no hope in turning on the switches in the center, but the doorway light is enough for me to see the nest of furs Gleb built for…
Me? Us? Can I sleep beside a murdering stranger who may be obsessed with me? Have I lost my mind to entertain that idea?
“Where are my tarot cards when I need them?”
I wail before removing my necklaces from my neck and working through the opening questions with my makeshift pendulum.
“I don’t know how much I trust you, to be honest, but you’re all I got,”
I tell the swinging necklace.
“Did you say my soulmate is in the Arctic because Jack is lying at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean? Wait, that’s cruel.
Don’t answer that.”
I wipe the air between my body and the necklace dangling from my fingertips.
“Am I safe sleeping next to Gleb in his nest of furs?”
It swings yes.
I forgot to add a timestamp to the question—am I safe tonight, tomorrow night, or forever? However, with the answer yes, I don’t need a time stamp.
My hat slaps the stone floor when I throw it off my head in frustration.
Of course, it kept my hair insulated, so it dried in beachy waves.
Great hair, too bad the style frames my snotty, tear-stained face.
Gleb won’t hurt, rape, or kill me in my sleep.
Wow, such lofty standards.
That’s not fair.
He’s kind—kind enough for me to shed my bulky suit and climb into the nest in my soggy underwear. I’ll clean those tomorrow before I leave…
I have to leave Gleb, right?
I can’t stay with the man—snow monster—who killed my boyfriend out of spite, but I can’t wander off on my own either.
Why does being stuck make my insides tingly and happy?
“Thank you,”
Gleb announces at the doorway.
“I was afraid you’d choose to sleep on the hard floor or in the dirt tunnel to the surface.
Thank you for accepting my kindness.”
“You won’t thank me when I’m sobbing over the loss of Jack,”
I snap.
I roll onto my side so I don’t have to read the hurt on his face.
He doesn’t get to kill people and win.
I’m sad enough to cry myself to sleep, right?
Jack and I were together for years.
We experienced ups and downs like any other couple.
With cabin fever on the Arctic trip, we fought more than usual.
That’s why I’m not as sad as I’m supposed to be. I didn’t want us to end this way…but did I have a future with him? He hinted about marriage many times, and asked for a baby more than a million times, but were we progressing? If he was my soulmate, why did I resist his attempts at commitment?
My upbringing taught me to shield my heart.
Did I love him? When I close my eyes, I see the gifts I gave him that weren’t reciprocated.
How many times did I pay for his car repairs and he never reimbursed me? My teeth grind when I recall how he wouldn’t pick up my grocery orders from the store next to his office.
He would drive behind the delivery vehicle, so they ended up at my door at the same time.
How many parties did I go to because Jack wanted to be seen when I wanted a quiet night in front of the TV? My smiles are plastic in all the photos because I didn’t want to attend each event—let alone pose for pictures. I warned him posing for journalists triggered me, but he laughed off my concerns. What did he used to say?
How can I trigger hurts from other people? How is that fair to me?
I felt safe with Jack because he never asked for money outright…but I paid a lot.
How many times did he reject my cuddles? Could I stand to be with someone so claustrophobic when my crappy upbringing left me touch-starved? Whether we were fated lovers or a mismatch, he shouldn’t have died at Gleb’s hands.
“Sleep—”
“You aren’t in a position to tell me what to do,” I snap.
“Sleep, so we can leave tomorrow.
I will take you south to your people.”
Rejection drips from his words, but I can’ t bring myself to face him.
Everything in me wants to soothe him and tell him it’s okay—that I’m not mad.
Is that because I’m a messed-up, people-pleaser who will compromise their morals for attention? Is it because I’m totally dependent on him? If he abandons me—stranded in the Arctic scares me to death.
Or is it what I suspect…my intuition knew there was something wrong with my relationship wi th Jack and thanks to Gleb, I’ll never know what it was…