Page 12 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)

CHAPTER TWELVE

T he next few days fell into an unexpectedly comfortable routine.

Rhaal continued the language lessons, and he was always willing to show Yasmin whatever task he was working on.

He even let her help him, and he proved to be a remarkably patient teacher.

Those moments were the most rewarding, but also the most challenging.

They would be working together side by side, and then he’d accidentally touch her or she would brush against him, and the air would thicken with tension.

He would freeze and she would see the conflict on his face before he’d flee out into the snow, leaving her to pace the cave, wondering why she was so attracted to him.

And she was attracted, in spite of their differences.

Those accidental touches affected her just as much. And the more she witnessed the lonely, tortured male beneath the fearsome facade, the more her heart went out to him

The bone-deep exhaustion of her ordeal gradually faded away. Her strength returned and she could walk more easily, though her feet still bore the lingering traces of frostbite.

Now that she felt better, she even found herself missing the daily shower in the slave ship.

She’d managed to rinse her face and hands in the small bowl of water he provided each morning, but it wasn’t enough.

She desperately wanted a bath, but how did she ask for a bath in a language she barely knew?

Determined to try, she went to join him.

He was arranging skewers of meat at the back of the fireplace to smoke gently.

He looked up as she approached, the usual mixture of pleasure and apprehension on his face.

When his glowing blue eyes fixed on her, she mimed washing her arms, her face, then gestured to her whole body.

“I’d really like a bath.”

Understanding dawned immediately in his eyes.

He retrieved a large, carved stone basin from a nook at the rear of the cave and placed it in front of the fireplace.

Then he disappeared through the hide curtain that separated their cave from the howling wilderness beyond.

At least the storm was finally passing, the periods between the squalls increasing each day.

When he returned, he carried a large container of snow. He set it to heat over the fire, then poured it into the basin. Steam rose in fragrant tendrils—he’d added something to the water, some kind of herb that smelled like pine and something sweeter.

When the basin was full, he straightened to his full height and moved over to the far wall, turning his back to give her a semblance of privacy.

She stared at his broad back, suddenly aware of the intimacy of the situation. The only remotely private place in the cave was the small latrine in a crevice to the rear and she certainly didn’t want to bathe there. But the cave was small. Even though he couldn’t see her, he would hear everything.

Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled the hide tunic he’d created for her over her head. The sound of the hide sliding over her skin seemed unnervingly loud in the quiet cave. She could see Rhaal’s ears twitch at the sound, though he didn’t turn.

The air felt cool against her naked skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. She stepped carefully into the basin.

The water was blissfully hot as she slipped one foot in, then the other.

She lowered herself into the basin, which was just large enough for her to sit with her knees drawn up.

A small sigh of pleasure escaped her lips before she could stop it.

His big shoulders tensed at the sound, and she could feel his restraint like a physical force as she cupped water in her hands and let it stream over her shoulders, down her chest. She knew he could hear the splash of water against her skin, her soft movements as she began to wash away the grime of her ordeal.

She reached for the cake of something that smelled like soap that he’d left beside the basin. It created a rich lather between her palms, and she worked it through her hair and over her body, acutely conscious of his presence just feet away.

His breathing deepened, became more deliberate. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders, the controlled tension in his stance. The awareness of that leashed power, of his acute consciousness of her nakedness, sent an unexpected thrill through her.

She rose to her feet to rinse away the last of the soap, but she was distracted by the strange, new feelings coursing through her and her foot slipped on the smooth stone bottom.

“Oh!” she cried out as she began to fall backward, arms flailing.

He was there immediately, moving so quickly she didn’t even see him turn. One moment he was across the cave, the next moment he’d caught her, yanking her against his chest, his fur soft against her wet, naked skin.

Time seemed to freeze. She was cradled against his chest, water streaming from her body, soaking into his white fur. His glowing blue eyes were wide with concern, but they darkened into something else entirely as awareness of her nakedness registered.

A rumble began deep in his chest—not a growl of anger, but something deeper, more primal. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, a question burning there.

At that moment, she made a decision. Instead of pulling away, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

He went completely rigid with shock, but the rumble in his chest deepened, vibrating through her body, leaving her breathless. His massive hands tightened around her, then loosened, as if he was afraid of crushing her.

He started to say something but she took advantage of the opportunity to slip her tongue between his lips.

He tasted as good as she’d imagined and a small, needy sound escaped her throat.

That sound seemed to break something in him.

With a growl that was pure need, he took over, his arms pulling her so tightly against him that she could scarcely breathe.

His tongue plunged between her lips, claiming her mouth with a ferocious desire that matched her own.

His fangs scraped her lower lip and sent a shockwave of pleasure through her body.

She clung to him, burying her fingers in his thick mane.

He growled again and lifted her into his arms, the soft fur on his chest teasing her aching nipples as he pulled her even tighter.

One big hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in place for his kiss, and the other supported her ass.

The thick ridge of his erection pressed against her core, and a fresh wave of arousal swept over her.

She squirmed eagerly, trying to get even closer.

He was halfway to the bed platform when she heard a sharp intake of breath from the cave entrance.

She jerked back from the kiss, her eyes flying open to see another of Rhaal’s kind standing in the doorway—smaller, female, with pale gray markings in her white fur and a leather pouch at her hip.

Her expression was one of shocked disapproval.

He put her back on her feet and placed himself between her and the newcomer so quickly that she felt dizzy, but she scrambled for one of the furs, pulling it around her naked body as Rhaal snarled at the intruder.

The female snarled back before launching into a furious tirade, her voice rising and falling in sharp, angry bursts.

Rhaal responded with defensive irritation, his big arms crossed over his chest. She clutched the fur tighter around herself, frustrated at not understanding their exchange.

It was clearly an argument, with the female repeatedly gesturing toward her with a disapproving scowl.

Finally, the female sniffed, a sound of pure disdain, and strode over to her. She gestured imperiously for Yasmin to sit, but she hesitated, looking over at Rhaal. Even though he was clearly reluctant, he nodded, his expression tight with what might have been embarrassment.

She sat gingerly on the edge of the sleeping platform, the fur still wrapped around her shoulders.

The female knelt and examined her feet with professional detachment, turning them this way and that, pressing on the still-healing skin with firm fingers.

Yasmin decided she must be a healer of some kind, but where had she come from, and why now?

The healer produced a small clay pot from her pouch and opened it to reveal a pale green salve that smelled of mint and something earthy.

She applied it to Yasmin’s feet with brusque efficiency, the cooling sensation immediately soothing her still sore feet.

Next the female examined her hands, then peered into her eyes and her mouth.

She started to protest, then changed her mind.

Her doctor had done the same thing during her last checkup.

When the healer was finished, she packed away her supplies and rose, delivering what was clearly a final rebuke to Rhaal. He stood with his arms crossed, his expression grim, but he didn’t respond.

The healer departed with a last disapproving glance at both of them, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

She looked over at Rhaal, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. His massive shoulders were hunched, his expression a mixture of frustration and sorrow and what might have been shame. Whatever the healer had said had affected him deeply.

She wished she could ask what the healer had said, but she didn’t have the words to ask, or even to understand the answer. Instead, she rose and went to join him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

He looked down when she touched him, his glowing eyes finally meeting hers.

The vulnerability she saw there made her heart ache.

She smiled up at him, trying to convey that she wasn’t upset, that she didn’t regret what had happened between them.

Not even the interruption, although she would have preferred to finish what they’d started.

Some of her thoughts must have come through because his expression finally relaxed. He covered her hand with his own, his eyes still locked on hers, and she felt the connection between them deepen.

“Who?” she asked, gesturing at the door.

“Cera,” he said.

Was that a name or a title? She pointed at herself, then at him, then at the door.

“Yasmin. Rhaal. Cera?”

He nodded. “Yasmin, Rhaal, Cera,” he repeated.

The repetition of her name in his deep, growly voice sent an unexpected thrill through her and she had to resist the temptation to step closer, to feel the warmth of his body against hers once again. Instead, she tried another question, hoping he understood the intent if not the actual words.

“Why did Cera come?”

He hesitated, then took a step back, his eyes darting away from hers. A pang of regret shot through her as he put more distance between them. Whatever the healer had said had obviously disturbed him.

Instead of answering her, he gestured to the basin, now cool, and mimed finishing her bath.

“I think I’m clean enough. What’s going on, Rhaal?” she asked, but he shook his head.

“Food,” he said, turning back to the fire. She knew it was an excuse, but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to persuade him to tell her. She sighed and returned to the bed platform.

As she pulled her fur tunic back on, the material brushed against her still swollen nipples, and a spark of excitement shot through her as she remembered the feel of his fur against them. If the healer hadn’t interrupted…

She wanted him, wanted more than the brief, heated moment they’d shared. But the memory of Cera’s disapproving face made her hesitate. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain. She could only hope that whatever the healer had said to Rhaal wouldn’t result in him retreating again.