Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Divorce? Nima’s heart thumped in time to an ominous rhythm. And despite running miles through the snow and sweating through his shirt, his limbs suddenly went cold, and he fought a shiver.
Legal marriages were unusual for yeti. That required an in-person trip to a courthouse, not to mention identification, something furry creatures who lived in secret rarely had.
But with the right paperwork and friends, Nima had managed a State of Alaska ID.
In Nevada, he and Mari had taken advantage of strategic clothing and accessories to obtain a marriage license in Reno on their way to Burning Man, in the Black Rock Desert, where they’d considered getting married.
But Nima hadn’t even lasted twenty-four hours at Burning Man, and his memories of his time there were fragmented.
He remembered flashes of the tent they’d pitched under the stars and the people from the cryptid-friendly group they’d camped with.
Many wore costumes. Some believed he was in costume too.
There’d been solar lights, music, and incredible structures, some large enough to walk through.
But a wedding ceremony? He’d remember that, wouldn’t he? His stomach knotted as he sorted through fuzzy memories, finding nothing.
“I don’t understand,” he began. Maybe he’d misheard Mari or misunderstood. What was she saying? How could they have been married all this time without him knowing? He needed her to explain. But before he could ask her anything, the ground vibrated beneath him. Again.
As the earth trembled, the foundation of his reality shook just as hard.
He doubted his memory and life choices. His heart raced with fear and uncertainty—for himself, Mari, and everything he thought he knew.
He’d never felt so vulnerable, not only from the earth trying to knock him off his footing but from Mari’s request for a divorce.
A nightmare was unfolding before Nima’s eyes.
The ground undulated, the snow-covered driveway rising and falling in a way that seemingly defied physics.
Mari’s parked truck bounced as the seismic waves rolled it up and down.
Treetops violently wrenched back and forth as the earth jerked beneath them.
Along with all the movement came sound. Mari’s cabin windows rattled, her truck squeaked as it bobbed, and a tremendous roar, like a semi speeding down her driveway, rose above all other sounds.
Mari’s wooden porch wrapped around into a deck as the ground sloped down the hillside.
It didn’t appear stable with all this movement.
Nima wanted Mari off it and safe by his side and in his arms—at least until the shaking stopped.
“Mari, get off the deck!” he shouted as he rushed toward her, wanting to tuck her against him, shield her with his body.
A trunk snapped, the sound sharp in the cold air and louder than the rumble of the quake.
The top of a large spruce tree tipped toward the deck and porch, falling slowly at first, then gaining speed as it toppled.
Nima burst forward, trying to reach Mari before the tree did, but it happened too fast. The tree took her down, smashing her against the porch before the top branches hit him as well.
“Mari!” he yelled, straining to get to her side, but the bushy spruce boughs blocked him. The house lights flickered and went out, as did the cheery holiday lights along the cabin’s eaves, plunging them into darkness. The half-moon’s meager illumination didn’t penetrate the dark tree branches.
“Mari,” he called again, trying to move toward her. She let out a low moan but otherwise didn’t respond. Given the size of the tree and how hard she fell, moaning was good—she was conscious.
“I’m coming, Mar,” he cried as he searched in vain for a hatchet or something on her porch that would cut through the branches. No luck. Fuck! I have to get this tree off her.
With a loud growl, Nima tore at the spruce boughs, ripping them from the trunk with his bare hands until he uncovered her shoulder.
But this wouldn’t do. He needed to move the whole fucking tree.
Nima fought his way between obstinate branches and the side of Mari’s house, past her prone form, still pinned in place.
The jagged end of the broken tree rested on the now-cracked deck railing.
Nima ripped more branches away, the pungent fragrance of fresh-cut wood and spruce sap filling the air.
In the opening he created, he squatted under the tree, firmly gripping the trunk.
As he did, the wooden planks lurched beneath him, and the windowpanes rattled again.
Fucking aftershock! His heart couldn’t race any faster.
Adrenaline already saturated his body. He wouldn’t let another earthquake unnerve him, not when Mari needed him.
He slowly stood from a squat, lifting the trunk, careful not to let the end resting on the railing crash onto the deck surface, further injuring and trapping Mari. He reached new depths for her to move this heavy and awkward-as-hell hunk of wood.
With a roar, and various muscles and joints popping, Nima hefted the tree. As he raised it overhead, a beam of headlights hit him mid-chest. He tossed the tree over the deck railing, freeing Mari as a vehicle raced down her driveway.
Nima didn't care about exposing himself, and all yeti, if the person in that vehicle could take Mari to the clinic. She needed medical attention. He waved his arms and yelled, “Help! Mari needs help!”
Nima then dropped to his knees at her side. The erratic headlight beams lit the scene like a strobe, amplifying his unease. Pine needles coated her torn sweater, and melting snow darkened her pants. But she’d curled into a ball on her side—a good sign. At least she could move her limbs.
“Mari,” Nima said softly as he gently brushed scraped knuckles across her forehead. “Can you hear me? I need to pick you up.” He didn’t see any visible blood, only the smear he’d left at her hairline. Dammit! The limbs he’d torn off the tree had cut up his hands worse than he realized.
The vehicle came to a stop with a squeal of brakes and what sounded like a skid in the snow. “Nima!”
Nima recognized Tseten’s voice immediately, and a measure of relief flooded through him.
Tseten was smart, focused, and calm in an emergency.
“Over here!” Nima yelled as he carefully scooped his arms under Mari, cradling her against his chest as he rose.
“Mari’s injured,” he called in a wavering voice as he rushed toward Tseten’s truck.
“The top of a spruce tree snapped in the earthquake and fell on her. Can you drive us to the clinic? Is Margie in town?” Margie was a yeti-friendly nurse and highly skilled in her trade. Nima trusted her implicitly.
Tseten swiftly ushered Nima towards the rear seats of his truck. “Climb in the back.”
Nima gingerly slid onto the bench seat as he held Mari close.
Though he tried not to jostle her, she whimpered, gripping his shirt with her fist. It broke his heart to see her in pain.
“It’s okay,” he said, knuckles gently brushing her cheek as Tseten carefully closed them in.
“I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
Mari’s chin moved as if she were nodding, but her eyes remained shut, her brows pinched as if in pain.
Tseten jumped into the driver’s seat and grabbed his phone. Nima wasn’t sure how such a large yeti texted so quickly with two giant blue thumbs, but in seconds he relayed, “Margie’s at the clinic and will look for us.”
As Tseten threw the truck in reverse and raced up the driveway, Nima relaxed a fraction and tried to make Mari as comfortable as possible, covering her with Tseten’s jacket.
But Nima could only relax so much. He didn’t know the extent of Mari’s injuries. And there were bound to be more fucking aftershocks.
All Mari had wanted that evening was popcorn, cozy pajamas, and a cheesy holiday romance movie. Instead, she’d been stuck in a closet with her estranged yeti husband, he’d brought her to orgasm, and a rogue spruce tree had nearly killed her.
She fisted her hand tighter into Nima’s shirt as Tseten drove over a bump, jostling her and Nima, causing pain to radiate through her limbs. Nima protectively arched over her, his grip tightening as if to ease her discomfort, while Tseten called out, “Sorry, new crack in the road!”
Mari never would have pictured herself in Nima's arms again—especially not after asking him for a divorce. But honestly, he was the only person she’d want holding her right now.
Her heart still might be in danger, but the rest of her wasn’t, not while Nima held her.
With each inhale, his scent calmed and soothed.
As gentle fingers brushed stray hairs away from Mari’s face and Nima’s soft, deep baritone whispered, “I’ve got you,” she couldn’t help but think back to the moment before the earthquake.
He’d looked shocked and bewildered when she’d demanded a divorce .
. . as if . . . as if he hadn’t realized they’d been married all these years.
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the prospect.
Although unconventional, their Burning Man marriage ceremony had been real and legally binding. Had Nima misunderstood or not taken it as seriously as she had? It hurt to consider the possibility when it had meant so much to her.
He’d stayed away for so long and yet, he’d seemed distraught when he’d arrived at her house tonight, like he couldn’t wait another moment to speak with her.
Picturing him jumping from the second-story window made her queasy.
And then he’d run at least five miles through the dark, snowy woods, to apologize immediately when he’d been in town for months and could’ve talked to her at any time.
It was all so confusing. But Mari had other things to focus on, like the sharp ache that spiked in her chest with every breath or the shooting pain that licked up her leg when she shifted her left foot.
“Almost there,” Tseten called from the front seat. “Speed bump ahead,” he warned.
Nima tensed around her as if bracing to take any impact while holding her steady.
She blinked up at the white-furred head hovering over her in the dark truck.
“Hang in there,” he murmured. She picked up a faint piney scent as he tenderly stroked her brow.
She had too many good Christmas memories not to still love the smell, despite the damage a spruce tree inflicted on her that night.
Mari winced when Nima touched a tender spot, and she squeezed her eyes shut again.
He sucked in a breath. “Sorry, I didn’t see the bruise forming.” His touch ghosted over her forehead. “You hit your head on the deck.” He paused for a moment, his voice thick with emotion as he said, “I didn’t reach you in time.”
Mari released his shirt, sliding her fingers around his. “Not your fault,” she managed weakly.
His hand, sticky with sap, clutched hers in return.
She didn’t care about the resin, especially not when large soft lips pressed a kiss to her wrist. She hadn't received this type of affection in a very long time.
And while Nima might have broken her heart, she would allow this comfort tonight, orgasm and all.
“Here we are,” Tseten called from the front of the truck as it came to a stop. She could hear him switch the gears into park. “I’m texting Margie.”
Nima popped the door open. “I’m not waiting,” he growled. “I’m taking her in.”
Mari clenched her fist in Nima’s shirt, and he paused. “Too risky,” she ground out.
Concerned eyes searched hers. “But—”
She flattened her palm against his chest. “Thank you. Margie will be here soon.”
Mari could sense Nima’s indecision, but he finally relaxed a fraction and closed the door as Tseten said, “They think that was the big one. Seven point two on the Richter scale, centered near Sockeye Cove. Damage reports are still coming in.”
“Have you had word from anyone else?” Nima asked, possibly thinking of his family in Denali.
“Pema texted. She and Jack lost plates and bowls when the cupboards popped open, and their power is out. They’re sweeping up broken glass by headlamps and candlelight.”
Mari thought of her own house. Would she find a kitchen full of shattered dishes when she returned? The prospect exhausted her. She’d deal with it eventually, but hopefully not tonight.
Just then, Nima’s door opened again. The overhead light turned on, and cold winter air washed over Mari. She fought a shiver, glad to be pressed against a warm body and under Tseten’s jacket.
“How’s our patient?” Margie asked as a gentle hand encircled Mari’s wrist as the nurse presumably felt for her pulse.
“I hurt,” Mari said. “Mostly my ribs and left ankle. I’m not bleeding . . . I don’t think.”
“No blood that I saw,” Nima added before explaining what had happened.
Margie’s brows knit together. “I’m sorry, Mari. Can you handle a wheelchair ride, or should I fetch a gurney? Then these gentlemen can be on their way.”
Mari squeezed Nima’s hand. It took her ten years to feel these comforting arms around her again. She wasn’t giving them up in her hour of need. “Can you stay, Nima?”
Nima’s eyes went wide, and he blinked. “I can stay,” he confirmed, a note of surprise in his voice, like he couldn’t quite believe she’d want him to.
“Nima can carry me in,” Mari told Margie.
As Margie gave her a curt nod, Mari vowed not to over-analyze her request. She’d have another ten years to mull over tonight’s decisions, and would deal with repercussions later. Right now, all she wanted was Nima by her side.