Barbarian's Redemption (Ice Planet Barbarians, #12)

by Ruby Dixon

So I asked Cap-tan and Trakan to bring humans here, humans they find that have been taken from their home, like Shorshie and the others. Humans that will be sold to bad men. I want them brought here so they can be mates to the men in our tribe. So we can give them a good life and make kits with them. So we can be lonely no longer.

Then again, as a kid, I never thought I’d be stolen away by aliens and forced to live in cages for ten years.

I should tell her a great many things, but they all fly out of my head, thoughts scattering like startled dirt-beaks, because my khui begins to sing when she narrows her blue eyes at me and frowns, her hand over her own heart.

“My mate. I should have known,” he says in a low voice, his eyes bright. “Such a little fighter.”

“Yeah, well, there are ways to do it and ways not to do it. You and Raahosh must have been comparing notes or something.” Somewhere near the fire, it sounds like Raahosh snorts.

“Mama says that Bek isn’t nice. She says he’s a tête de noeud. Mama says that means dickhead in her language.”

Bek is a dickhead? It fits. I decide I like Zalene’s mama, even if her child is a little talky.

But you are my mate, even if we have not yet touched, and I will do whatever I can to make you happy. If you do not like the food, I will bring new foods for you. If you are cold at night, I will bring you furs. If you are lonely or sad, I want to comfort you.”

It does not matter that my intentions were good, only that I have done the same thing to them that so many others have done.

In my eyes, I was saving the humans. In their eyes, I am no better than those that stole them.

“Bek, I never had a home before I got here. I was never safe. You are my home. You are my safe. I’m with you forever.”

My mate considers the rows of huts and then points at one on the far end of the village, at the outskirts. She wants to be away from everyone. Somehow I knew that.

“Is it because…” I struggle to think of a word, then remember Ell-ee’s. “I am bat ass?”

I turn to Ell-ee. “Bat ask? Do I say it wrong?”

Ell-ee would never laugh at me. With me, yes. Not at me. I know it is hard for her to speak in front of others, and she is brave to do so. I smile at her and touch her cheek.

“Badass,” I confirm with the others. “That is what I am.”