Page 14 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
S everal more days passed in the same familiar rhythm.
The healer’s salve had worked on Yasmin’s feet and there was no longer any pain when she walked.
Her strength had completely returned, and with it, a growing restlessness.
The cave, once a sanctuary from the deadly cold, now felt increasingly like a comfortable prison.
The night after the bath, Rhaal had joined her in the bed.
She’d waited expectantly but all he did was wrap himself around her protectively.
She was acutely aware of his presence—the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her back, the occasional rumble that vibrated through him when she shifted position, but eventually she’d fallen asleep.
It had been the same way ever since. Sometimes in the darkness, she felt the unmistakable hardness of his arousal against her, but he never acted on it, maintaining a careful separation even when they were curled together in the bed.
Since the healer’s visit, something had changed.
The kiss they’d shared before the interruption hung between them, acknowledged but not repeated.
He watched her constantly when he thought she wasn’t looking, his ice-blue eyes following her movements with an intensity that made her skin tingle, but he kept his distance.
One morning, as she used the carved bone comb he’d made for her to untangle her hair, she caught his reflection in a polished metal plate.
He was staring at her with such naked longing that her breath caught in her throat.
When their eyes met in the reflection, he quickly looked away, busying himself with tending the fire.
Enough , she thought. She couldn’t continue like this—wearing make-shift clothes, living in his space, completely dependent on him.
She needed to show him she was more than a cave-bound invalid he needed to protect.
He’d sketched out a map of the area for her during one of their lessons, including a small spaceport.
The thought of leaving the safety of the cave made her nervous, but she couldn’t stay locked inside forever.
“Rhaal,” she said firmly, setting down the comb and turning to face him. “I need proper clothes. And real boots that fit. I want to go to Port Eyeja.”
His entire body immediately went rigid, his expression shutting down completely.
“No,” he growled, the word harsh and final.
“Why not?”
“Not safe.”
She rose to her feet and went to join him.
“I know you’ll keep me safe,” she said quietly. “But I can’t stay hidden in here forever. I need to be able to walk outside without you carrying me.”
He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Rhaal, please.” She reached out, touching his arm lightly. “I want to be your partner, not your burden.”
His glowing eyes finally met hers, conflicted and wary.
“I need this,” she said simply.
For a long moment, he stood immobile, like a statue carved from ice. Then his big shoulders slumped slightly, and he gave the low, reluctant growl that she had come to recognize as resignation.
“Tomorrow,” he rumbled.
“Thank you!” In her excitement, she gave him a quick kiss, but when she pulled back she found him staring at her. Her cheeks flamed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“What?” he asked, tapping his lips.
“We call it a kiss. What do you call it?”
He shook his head. “No name. No kiss.”
“What do you mean you don’t kiss?”
He tapped his fangs and she suddenly understood. The two sets of fangs would make it difficult. No wonder he’d seemed so shocked when she’d kissed him after her bath. Her cheeks heated again.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I should have realized you might not like it?—”
“Like it.” He smiled at her as he interrupted the rapid flow of words. “Like very much.”
“Oh.” She looked at him and her heart fluttered in her chest. The vulnerability she glimpsed in his eyes was like a magnet, drawing her in. She leaned in, slowly, deliberately this time, giving him plenty of time to pull away. Their lips touched in the lightest of kisses, but then he pulled away,
“After,” he growled. “After Port Eyeja.”
She was disappointed but perhaps he was right. She wanted to come to him as an equal.
The journey to the spaceport the next day was tense and silent.
Rhaal insisted on carrying her, cradling her against his chest like precious cargo.
She didn’t argue. He’d wrapped fur strips around her feet and legs but the snow was still too deep for her to navigate without proper footwear.
He’d also pulled out the thermal cloak she’d worn on her escape and wrapped that around her as well.
His anxiety about the trip was evident in the tightness of his muscles, the alertness of his posture.
He was like a coiled spring, constantly scanning their surroundings, his head turning at the slightest sound.
Twice, he froze completely, holding her so still she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, before continuing cautiously.
As they approached the outpost, the landscape changed. The pristine white wilderness gave way to packed snow paths, then to cleared streets. Buildings rose from the snow—a motley collection of utilitarian metal structures interspersed with stone buildings designed to withstand the harsh climate.
The spaceport was larger than she’d expected, and the place bustled with activity.
Various aliens moved purposefully between shops and warehouses, their breath clouding in the frigid air.
Under other circumstances she might have been nervous, but with Rhaal at her side, she wasn’t afraid to indulge her curiosity.
Four-armed beings with rough, leathery skin haggled with tall, slender creatures whose skin seemed to shimmer with an internal light.
Small, furry aliens with multiple eyes scurried between the larger beings, carrying packages and messages.
She caught a glimpse of two large males with red skin and horns in the distance before Rhaal ducked down a side alley.
At the edge of the market square he reluctantly set her down, and pulled the cloak tightly around her before locking one massive arm around her waist. His body language screamed protectiveness, his glowing eyes constantly scanning for threats.
“Stay close,” he murmured, his deep voice barely audible over the market’s noise.
The first stall they entered specialized in cold-weather gear. The proprietor, a short, round being with orange fur, greeted them with a series of clicks and whistles. To her surprise, Rhaal responded in the same language, his deep voice somehow managing the alien sounds.
The shopkeeper led them to a section with smaller-sized clothing, clearly meant for species closer to human proportions. She moved through the racks, touching the unfamiliar fabrics with wonder. They ranged from coarsely spun cloth to high tech materials that incredibly light yet radiated warmth.
Rhaal watched patiently as she selected several items—thermal undergarments, two pairs of sturdy pants, a few long-sleeved tunics, and a thermal jacket lined with some sort of synthetic fur. The boots were next—insulated, waterproof, with excellent traction for the snow.
She put on one set right away, immediately feeling more like herself, but made sure to add her hide tunic to the growing pile of clothes.
As she was examining a pair of gloves, he moved away for a moment, then returned with a small, sparkling object.
He held it out to her—a beautiful hair comb adorned with tiny blue crystals that caught the light like stars.
“For your hair,” he said softly, his eyes watching her reaction carefully.
She took it, deeply touched by the unexpected gift.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, running her fingers over the delicate work.
A shadow fell across them, interrupting the moment. She looked up to see a massive, four-armed trader with mottled green skin and small, cruel eyes. He was at least as tall as Rhaal but bulkier, his build speaking of brute strength rather than Rhaal’s controlled power.
The trader’s eyes landed on her, assessing her with cold calculation. His gaze traveled over her body in a way that made her skin crawl—not with desire, but with the clinical appraisal one might give livestock.
He said something to Rhaal in a guttural language, his tone casual but his intent clear even without understanding the words. He gestured with a pouch that clinked with the unmistakable sound of currency.
She froze, the blood draining from her face as understanding dawned. The trader was offering to buy her from Rhaal.
She felt Rhaal go completely still beside her, a stillness more frightening than any movement. The temperature around him seemed to drop several degrees. His massive hand found hers, engulfing it completely, and she felt the barely controlled tremor that ran through him.
The trader, oblivious to the danger, shook the credit pouch again, raising his offer with a leering smile that revealed rows of small, pointed teeth. His beady eyes remained fixed on her, predatory and hungry.
Rhaal moved so fast she could barely track it.
One moment he was standing beside her, the next he had the trader by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease.
The trader’s four arms flailed uselessly against Rhaal’s grip, his face turning a darker shade of green as he struggled for breath.