Mari's Mistake (Icehome, #10)

by Ruby Dixon

I would trade that full belly even to see stern R'sash, our scowling, unpleasant chieftain one more time or the sniping, teasing elders who joked that I was too tall and thin to carry a spear if I was shaped like one.

M'tok rubs his jaw, a strange expression on his face. "No horns. No tail. No fangs. I am going to come out and say it, brother." He glances at R'jaal. "She is rather ugly."

God, I wish I was like Lauren. She's always brave and in control, even when she's scared. In a way, she's a lot like Velma from the Scooby-Doo cartoons I loved as a kid. She always has a plan, and nothing rattles her. Me, I'm unfortunately less of a Daphne and more of a Shaggy. Everything scares the shit out of me and then I hide.

"You, my friend, are clearly not a hider. Though if you are still a grow-er at this point, we might have a problem if you rearrange my insides."

What if Lauren and I somehow activated one of the alien pods and we've slept for a thousand years in some Planet of the Apes-type crap? Or what if I'm the only one left and Lauren died a hundred years ago? The thought makes me panicky.

I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure I've read enough books and watched enough nature shows to suspect there's some sort of volcanic activity going on here. I wonder if T'chai and his people realize that. Did all the others leave ahead of them and T'chai and his friends are the only ones left behind?

I mentally scratch Blue Lagoon off of my list of things to compare my situation to. Tarzan. Tarzan is better. I'll go with that. George of the Jungle works, too.

I'm wet with his release, our mingling fluids trickling down my thighs, and I should probably get up and clean up. I just…don't want to. I like the way he feels over me, how big he is inside me, even now.

"You're cute for an alien, you know that?"

“Oh, no no no.” He’s trying to hold them into his body…and failing. Sand is getting everywhere on his wounds, and there’s so much blood. He twitches, clearly trying to get up, and blood bubbles from his mouth.

“M’rsl,” he murmurs again, and lets go of his gut wound to reach for my face. He’s trying to comfort me while his guts are spilling out onto the beach. My heart hurts, even as my cootie purrs and purrs.

R’jaal held his guts earlier and carefully eased them back into place in his abdomen after I washed the sand off of them. Who lives through that?

He just holds my hands and murmurs words I don’t understand, and they feel stolen from me.

“Don’t worry about it. You can help him?” “I think I can.” Her gaze meets mine. “I don’t want to impose but…can I try?” Impose? Impose? A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. “If you can heal him, you can impose all you want.”

“How do you feel?” Veronica asks, her brows drawn together. “Okay?” I shrug. I feel…I don’t know. I don’t feel like much of anything, if I’m being honest with myself. I’m not upset. I’m not worried. I’m not even exhausted. I’m just kind of…there. “I think I’m fine?”

T’chai’s hand twitches on the furs, and I reach for it out of habit. The moment I do, I feel…strange. His touch doesn’t feel dear to me; it’s off-putting. I notice the irritating rasp of calluses and how he’s too warm. His scent bothers me. In fact, all of it bothers me. Which is odd. It’s kind of like touching velvet the wrong way. It’s not bad, just…unpleasant. I want to put down his hand, but I don’t.

"Are my eyes still red?" She pats my arm. "Your eyes are blue. Khui blue." Right. I always forget that shit.

"Good luck, my friend," Farli whispers, leaning over my ear. "May your cunt be extra juicy tonight."

How do you explain to anyone that your khui isn't right? That it's on strike and it's gone and taken all the good things in the world with it? It's like the only thing my khui reacts to are the things it doesn't like… Like when my mate touches me. It's a hell of a position to be in, and it's miserable. I feel very alone, even on this now-crowded beach that seems to brim with couples. One by one, they've been pairing off, and I've been happy for my friends. Life's dealt us a shit hand, so why not try and enjoy what we've got, right?

"She holds it fiercely in her small hand and has never let it go. But this is very, very hard." "Bah. Harder than when you held your guts in your hands?" I say nothing. He will not understand until he resonates. He will not know what it is like to experience that intense, pure joy of connection with your mate…only to have it disappear and never return. To have the female whose touch made your cock rise now pull away from you when you reach for her.

"I still want what we have," T'chai tells me. "Even if it is broken. Even if it stays broken forever. Because half a mating with my lovely, determined Mari is better than a lifetime alone."

"Being your mate is about sharing your life. It is not just taking you into the furs and making you scream my name. It is about being there for you when you are sad. It is about making you smile. It is about keeping you safe. It is about being happy together." He tugs lightly on my hair. "I still want all of those things with you. Nothing has changed for me, my Mari."

"It does not matter that there are a few storms to weather, my Mari. The important thing is that we weather them together."

"This is why you must talk to me, my mate. This is why we are partners. Because we are better together than separately."

"You are focusing on the wrong things, my Mari. Do not focus on what we do not have. Be thankful for what we do."