Ice Planet Honeymoon (Four Novellas of HEA)

“Will it make you feel safer?”

“No.”

I am surprised at her answer. “No?”

“I already feel safe, Aehako.” She shakes her head at me. “I’ve felt fine. Better than fine. If I get sick every now and then, that’s just part of being pregnant. Kemli’s at the cave and she’s had lots of children. And we truly are only a sled ride away from this cave and the healer. I’m not worried about anything. But when you worry, apparently I pick up on it.”

“Are you telling me to calm down?”

“Do you think you can?” A hint of a smile plays at her lips.

“I know one thing that helps me relax,” I drawl, and she rolls her eyes. I love making her chuckle, and it feels like a gift when she does so right now.

“I can only guess that it involves your cock and my body.”

I give her a sly look. “Perhaps Rokan is not the only one with a knowing sense.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But you love me anyhow?”

She leans in and kisses me. “I do. But let’s relax for the rest of our vacation, all right?”

“You know what relaxes me?”

Kira mock-groans. “You really are the most impossible mate.” But she is smiling as she says it, and I know if I suggest cuddling, it will turn into touching, and mating…because it is never about just cuddling. Never.

And Kira loves that it is never just about cuddling, too.

My mate reaches up and caresses my cheek. A wicked smile curves her mouth. “Remind me to show you the new loincloth I made you in the morning.”

I can tell from the look on her face that it is going to make me laugh long and hard…and then we will probably end up mating afterward. “In the morning, then.”

She wiggles her brows at me.

Truly, I am the luckiest.

Part IV

Ice Planet Honeymoon: Rukh & Harlow

Rukh and Harlow are starting over at the beach, away from everyone else. Newly mated, they’re just now realizing what a monumental task it is to create a home when you’ve got nothing but the leathers on your back.

It’s even worse when you can’t talk to your mate. Will misunderstandings ruin everything?

This story is an extended epilogue for book 4 of Ice Planet Barbarians — Barbarian’s Mate — and is for readers who want a little more of their favorite couple. Don’t start here! You’ll be missing out on so much story. Start at the beginning with Ice Planet Barbarians.

13

HARLOW

One of the first mornings at the beach, I wake up to something scuttling over my foot.

It hasn't been the most comfortable night's sleep already. Sand is everywhere, and the cave we're bunking in is tiny and cold. Those things don't matter the moment I look up at the sunlight streaming in from the cave and see one of the scorpion-things perched on my boot. I kick it off, sliding backward in the cave in horror. Everywhere I look, there's more of the damn things. They're on the furs, at the mouth of the cave, and I swear there's one on the wall. I make a noise of distress at the sight.

My mate, Rukh, is instantly awake at my terrified sound. He sits up, growling and ready to protect me, a question in his eyes. I point at one of the things. They're horrid looking, a cross between a crab and a scorpion with lots of legs and a segmented tail. Rukh plucks the nearest one off the wall and promptly bites the head off.

I squeal in horror again.

He holds the limp thing out to me, an offering. "Har-loh?"

"I'm not eating that," I cry. "Not on your life!" The defunct vegetarian in me is appalled at the thought. I've had to make a lot of changes since coming to this icy planet, not the least of them being a change in my dietary habits. And so far eating meat hasn't been too bad, even if I do randomly get cravings for a hamburger, of all things. But seeing Rukh holding that awful-looking thing out to me to eat? I can't do it. My throat clenched tight, I shake my head.

He stares at it, and the look in his eyes is uneasy. "Har-loh…no?"

"No," I manage. "My seafood has to be cooked."

"Cookt?" he echoes, shaking the floppy thing at me. "Rukh cookt?"

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.

I stare at the thing, trying to get over my initial disgust. It's food, I remind myself. It's food it's food it's food.

"Cook it, sure," I manage. "Thank you."

Rukh grunts, the sound full of pleasure, and tosses the dead thing down on the ground. Then he grabs another one of the things. He lifts it to his mouth, ready to bite the head off, and then glances over at me. As if recalling the horror on my face, he changes tactics at the last moment and snaps the head off instead. It makes an awful crunching sound, followed by a splat of liquid, and then tosses it down onto the other. Within moments, we have a neat, tidy little pile. He doesn't care that they pinch at him with their stinger-pincher things, or that they scuttle away fast when they see his hand descending. Rukh is faster than them, and something tells me he's done this plenty of times before.