Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
TIA
I ignore the betrayed, hurt looks that Rem’eb shoots my way as our group escapes out of the fruit cave and back into the snows. He struggles to escape, so the men tie him up and drag him along with us, and my guilt grows larger by the minute. We don’t have a choice, though.
Rem’eb has to come with me, because I know we’re going to resonate. I just know it.
Both myself and the strange blonde—Rosalind—help dress our unruly group. I meet the three “Ancestors” for the first time. There is Set’nef the Wanderer, who has gray coloring and a somber expression. His younger brother, Tal’nef the Swiftest, with a lean build and a worried look on his face. Then there is Noj’me the Attendant, who has a silvery mane and bright eyes. She looks thrilled to be meeting strangers, her face wreathed with an excited smile. We don’t have time to get to know each other, though. There are shoes to be made, wraps to be adjusted, and people to be herded. Noj’me is so fascinated with everything that she keeps accidentally wandering away. Set’nef pauses to look at everything. Poor Rosalind sticks to R’jaal’s side when she’s not clinging to mine.
This is a lot for all of them, I’m sure. So I do what I can to be a leader. I make sure people are covered and no extremities are going to get frostbite. I teach them not to wander through the thicker snowdrifts while R’jaal scouts ahead, looking for the next hunter cave which will be full of the supplies we need. And when we get to the cave, I decide I’m going to show Rosalind how to make a fire. I’m so used to the cold, the gloomy sunlight, the bitter wind, that none of it strikes me as disturbing anymore. But it’s clear from the shocked expressions of the ancestors (and poor Rosalind) that Not-Hoth is a lot to take in.
I can be a guide for them like Stacy was for me back on Croatoan—patient, helpful, and practical.
We crowd into the cave, the ancestors shivering and clutching borrowed furs around them. The weather feels pretty nice to me, but even I admit it’s an extreme temperature drop from the balmy interior of the fruit cave and the stagnant warmth of the tunnels of Rem’eb’s people. R’jaal goes out to find fresh water, and I take one look at the others, huddled in the back of the cave like baby birds in a nest, and decide I need to take charge.
“Noj’me,” I begin, pointing at the lean, lovely young alien woman with four arms and a pretty silvery mane. “Dig through the supplies in the back of the cave and look for furs. They will be rolled up. Let’s make beds for everyone.”
Noj’me can speak some of the sa-khui alien language, so I use their words, though I know my pronunciation is all garbled. “Skins…for beds,” she repeats slowly, making sure she understands. “For us, yes?”
“Yes,” I agree, and gesture at Set’nef and Tal’nef. “Tell them.”
“I tell!” She beams at me, obviously loving her adventure. When she turns to the brothers to explain, I tune her out and turn to Rosalind.
The look on her face is just as lost as the others, and I’m guessing she had no idea that the ice planet was going to be quite this cold. Then again, R’jaal probably didn’t mention that this is an ice planet. To him, it’s just his home world. I recognize that deer-in-headlights look on her face and I want to help her.
So I smile and pull the fire strikers hanging from the wall. The bits of metal salvaged from the ship have a lot of magnesium in them, so we use them to start fires and pretty much every cave has something like that in it now. I wore one around my neck for a long time, too, but I abandoned it thinking I’d never be out somewhere that I’d need a striker, as I’m not much of a hunter. Ha. Joke’s on me. I hold the strikers out to her. “Have you ever made a fire, Rosalind?”
Her eyes are wide and she shakes her head.
“Okay, well, that’s one of the things you’re going to want to learn first, now that you’re here. You’ll get used to the cold for the most part, but fire is handy for a lot of things, not just warmth. We’ll get you a striker at some point so you can practice, but for now we’ll use the one here in the cave. You’re going to want a striker, and you’re going to want a nest of tinder.”
“Striker. Tinder. Got it.” Rosalind’s voice is shaky but growing stronger.
Good. Maybe if we keep her occupied, R’jaal and I, she won’t get depressed once she realizes she’s stuck here. I threw myself into making out with as many alien guys as possible when I went through the grief of being trapped here, but I’m guessing that won’t be a choice for her.
Thinking about kissing guys makes me think about Rem’eb. I glance back at him, where he sits, hands tied behind him, near Tal’nef’s feet. Tal’nef carried him today because we couldn’t trust Rem’eb not to race back to the caves, and I know he has to be angry right now.
If it was me, I’d be furious with me at the moment, seeing as how I kidnapped him.
Our eyes meet, and he gives me a resentful, betrayed stare. He’d been trying to help me, and I took him captive. I totally get that he’s mad. At some point, we’ll have a few moments alone—and maybe we’ll be able to talk once he gets a language chip implanted—and he’ll understand why I did it. For now, he just glares at me mutely, twisting in the ropes. His long, fluffy tail thwacks hard against the stone floor, annoyed.
And I feel…sad. Bitterly disappointed because I’m not enough of a draw to make him want to stay with me. What else is new , that awful little voice in my head pipes in.
I glance away from Rem’eb, because I can’t even apologize. I’m not sorry for what I did. I’m just sad that whatever flirtation we had going has died.
“You want to go talk to him?” Rosalind whispers.
I shake my head, because there’s too much to say and not enough shared words between us. “Let’s just work on the fire.”
R’jaal returns, filling the entrance of the cave, and Rosalind immediately perks up at the sight of him, her cheeks turning pink.
For some reason, that irks me. “Okay,” I say a bit louder to get her attention once more. “There’s going to be a pouch around here with some dried sea grass in it, and that works well as tinder. We want to make a little nest?—”
And I pause.
My chest feels…strange. That weird bubble I felt also feels as if it has popped, and warmth is spreading through my veins. Warmth, and a heavy, steady throb of my pulse follows.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
My heart pounds in my chest, my pulse throbbing in time with it. Then, my pulse seems to center in three particular places—my nipples, and directly between my thighs. Shocked at the arousal that floods my system, I look back over at Rem’eb.
Our eyes meet.
God, he looks good, even with his mane disheveled and a scowl on his face. I put a hand to my chest, feeling the pounding of my khui’s song, but what I really want to do is crawl over to him and kiss him. Lick him all over. Slide my legs over his lap and fit his strange—yet also appealing—umbrella dick into my body and see what it feels like when it unfurls…
This. This is what we’ve been waiting for. What we’ve been feeling all along.
His shoulders slump and he breaks from my gaze to glance down at his chest, which is resonating loudly to mine. “You can untie me,” he says, defeated. “I am not leaving her.”
I’ve thwarted him. I realize now that was part of his plan. He was expecting resonance between us. We’ve both been feeling something this entire time. But Rem’eb hasn’t wanted to leave his people, so that’s why he’s taking me away. He wanted to get rid of me before resonance, before it was too late. I’m sure in his eyes he’s doing the noble thing, but I feel unwanted all over again and it hurts.
Resonance should be the happiest moment of my life, and instead I’m feeling a variety of things—resentment, hurt, bitterness, and vindication.
R’jaal looks over at me, waiting to see my decision.
“Do it. We have to trust him at some point,” I say.
Set’nef looks over at R’jaal, and when he nods and makes a gesture, he unties my new mate. Rem’eb pulls his hands to his front and rubs his wrists, his gaze moving back to me even as he throbs with resonance song. Mine is so loud that it feels like drumming in my ears, and I both want to jump Rem’eb’s bones and slap him across the cheek for hurting my feelings.
I remain crouched by the firepit, strikers still gripped tight, as Rem’eb gets to his feet. He stands, stretches, and then moves to my side, offering me his hand.
There’s no point in being childish and slapping his hand away. I did want this. I did . I still do . I just wanted him to be a little bit happy about it, that’s all. But I need to be an adult. So I nod, hand the strikers to Rosalind, and get to my feet. “We’ll continue our fire lesson after I’ve talked to Rem’eb.” I turn and gracefully put my hand in his. “Shall we go outside?”
He gazes at me and then turns his head. “Noj’me the Attendant, come with us to translate.”
Great. Because that’s what I need in this moment, another person staring at us while I squirm with horny resonance. I keep smiling, though it grows more difficult by the moment.
We head out of the cave, and the cool air hits me in the face, feeling like relief. I notice that both Noj’me and Rem’eb gasp at the cold, flinching as we step out into the snow. Sure enough, they didn’t bring fur wraps with them and the temperature gets colder when the suns go down. Rem’eb’s legs are bare, his kilt and sandals no good for this kind of weather. With a shake of my head, I indicate that they should sit together on a nearby boulder. “Wait here, I’ll get furs.”
I leave before I can hear Noj’me translate, and when I return, both of them are seated, their feet carefully perched on the rock outside of the snows. I’ve brought several blankets with me and I immediately wrap one around Rem’eb’s shoulders and then one on his legs. He seems surprised that I’m tending to him, as if it didn’t occur to him that I’d want to look after him.
I guess I deserve that after clubbing him on the head and all.
After I bundle Noj’me too, I take a step back and make sure they’re sufficiently covered and warm. “You’ll get used to the cold after a while,” I reassure them, and give the two a thumbs up. “It’ll eventually feel pretty nice.”
Well, until the brutal season hits, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
Then I cross my arms and stare at them, trying to think of what to say. Do I apologize for snatching him when I don’t feel sorry? Tell him that I wish we hadn’t resonated? Because that’s not how I feel. I’m glad in this moment. Elated. There’s nothing broken in me. My body was just waiting for the right guy.
And I’m tired of pretending like everything is okay when it’s not. So I keep my arms crossed and lift my chin. “I’m going to be honest, if you’re expecting an apology from me, you’re going to be waiting a while.”