Devi's Distraction (Icehome, #6)

by Ruby Dixon

And there’s Bridget and A’tam. They flirted, they slept together, and now he thinks they’re married and she thinks he should die in a fire. It’s complicated.

And they wonder why I focus on my work. At least when I’m focused on my research, I don’t notice that I’m lonely. That I’m the only Indian girl here, or for that matter, the only academic. I’ll fit in eventually. Until then, there’s always the beach.

It occurred to me that I could make myself a leg. Learn to balance on it the way the humans balance on their strange snowshoes. Walk on my own instead of forcing J’shel or V’za or K’thar to carry me. I could be independent once more. I could hunt.

Instead, she simply nods. “Like a prosthetic?” “Is that what it is called?” My heart thumps painfully in my chest. She knows of such things? “Yeah, you would attach it at the knee and then use it to support your weight.” She chews on her lip, staring down at my leg, and for the first time, I feel as if someone is staring at me without sorrow. In her eyes, I am not a thing to be coddled and pitied. I am a problem that needs solving. I am strangely pleased.

“Nothing,” D’vi promises and then sticks out her extra finger. “Pinky swear.” I touch it, not entirely sure what I am supposed to do. She loops her finger in mine and yanks on it. “That’s a pinky swear. It means this is super serious and if you narc on me, I get to kick your ass.”

But this D’vi female told me right away. She is not afraid to hurt my feelings. I find that…refreshing. It is a nice change from everyone staring at me with pity. Something rumbles in my throat, and I realize it is laughter. It seems that I stink.

This is normal for him. You’ve seen penises before. You’ve studied anatomy textbooks. You’ve seen porn. You saw Game of Thrones. This is just another penis. But…it’s big. And blue. And has ridges. And really big. And he’s washing it while I stand there staring.

She laughs, her eyes bright. “What am I, chopped liver?” Liver? Of course she is liver. The organ meats are the tenderest and most prized, quickly snatched up after a hunt. “Yes, of course you are.” Her face falls. “Oh.”

“I will tell anyone that asks that I am very cold at night, rub my stump, and they will trip over themselves to apologize.” She laughs, smacking my arm lightly. “You’re terrible. I love it.” I might be, but I like her smile too much to care.

I dislike S’bren. A lot. The big Tall Horn hunter makes sure to sit very close to D’vi and continually offers her food throughout the night. He thinks he is not being obvious, and perhaps to the humans he is not, but one hunter recognizes when another is closing in on prey.

My khui has not yet sung to B’shit’s khui. That does not mean I belong to her yet. It might be many turns of the moons before my khui wakes, if it ever does. Until then…I want Devi. And I do not care if that is wrong.

I do not want B’shit, I realize. It is Devi I want. It is Devi I dream of kissing again. When I go out to join the others, I want Devi to give me that proud, confident look on her face, as if she knew I could do this all along.

Devi is so filled with joy, with a love of life. I need that. I want that. I feel whole when I am near her.

“But I would rather have you for one day than regret it for all of them.”

Everything I do from this point forward, I do for Devi. She is my reason. I know this as surely as I know my own four hands.

I know in this moment that no matter what happens, Devi is mine. I will tear my khui from my chest if it dares to resonate to another.