Ice Planet Honeymoon: Rukh & Harlow (Ice Planet Barbarians, #4.5)

by Ruby Dixon

Rukh doesn't know a lot of language—any at all—because he's been feral for so long. He's picking up some of my words, though, desperate to talk to me. And “cook” is one of them he knows.

Kissing Rukh is never a chore. If anything, it feels a bit like Christmas every time, which is an odd way to think about it, but it fits. He acts as if every time I kiss him, it's a gift. And I feel like every time that I kiss him, I'm being given something special as well.

I saw the lonely, aching man beneath all the dirt and fell in love.

"Har-loh mine." His voice is so possessive as he leans in and nips at my ear, repeating the words. "Har-loh mine." Fuck, when did he learn “mine” and do I even care?

"Rukh mine," I tell him softly. I smile up at him, all dopey-eyed pleasure, and run my hand along his chest. This makes him happy, too. He gives me a fierce look, as if he likes the idea of me calling him mine.

That's just who he is. He wants the best for me, even if it means far more work.

I have never been so happy. Having Har-loh is…I do not know the words. I only know my heart is so full that sometimes it hurts in my chest.

God, he's pretty. I'm so lucky to have him. Even our “issues” aren't big ones. We can't communicate all that well, we had to leave everyone behind and strike out on our own, but they seem like small things in the wake of having this big, gorgeous man at my side. I can forgive everything in this moment,

"Rukh kiss," he tells me, patting my ass and then caressing it. Funny how he doesn't have a big vocabulary, but with those two words, he's able to make me wetter than heck.

We may not have the words, but he's listening.

We are a pair, meant to be one. "To-geddur," I agree, and am rewarded with a happy smile. Har-loh is mine, and I am Har-loh's. We are togeddur. In this moment, and in everything.

For the first time in my life, I look forward to more than just the next meal, the next sleep. I look forward to a life with Har-loh, warm and snug in our cave, our kit bundled into the furs with us.