Page 22 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Y asmin woke to the gentle sound of Rhaal’s breathing beside her. The rhythm had become as familiar to her as her own heartbeat over these past few weeks. She stretched carefully, not wanting to disturb him. His massive arm lay draped across her waist, heavy but comforting in its weight.

Morning light ringed the hide covering the cave entrance, casting a warm glow over their shared space. What had once seemed alien and strange now felt like home. The carved stone bowls, the thick furs, the glowing crystals that provided soft light—all had become beloved fixtures of her new life.

She slipped quietly from beneath his arm.

He stirred slightly, a low rumble escaping his chest, but didn’t wake.

Even in sleep, his face held a peace that hadn’t been there when they first met.

The permanent furrow between his brows had softened.

The haunted look in his eyes appeared less frequently.

He rarely slept later than she did and she decided to surprise him by handling their morning routine by herself. She stoked the fire and prepared a simple breakfast of dried berries and the edible moss he’d taught her to harvest.

As she worked, a wave of dizziness washed over her.

She steadied herself against the wall, waiting for it to pass.

The dizzy spells had been happening more frequently over the past few days.

At first, she’d attributed it to the rich meat in their diet, so different from what she’d eaten on Earth.

But this morning, the sensation was accompanied by a faint nausea that lingered even after the dizziness faded.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, frowning. Something wasn’t right.

Or perhaps… something was exactly right.

The thought struck her with such force that she nearly dropped the carved bone spoon she was holding. She counted backward, trying to remember when she’d last had her period. Not since she’d arrived on Hothrest, and not on the ship, which meant…

“Oh,” she whispered, the sound barely audible even to her own ears.

She sank down onto one of the moss-covered stone seats, her legs suddenly unable to support her. Her hand remained pressed against her belly, as if she might feel something there—some confirmation of the life she now suspected was growing inside her.

A child. Rhaal’s child.

The thought should have terrified her. A human woman pregnant with an alien baby on a frozen planet light-years from Earth. Yet all she felt was a spreading warmth, a sense of rightness that defied logic. She loved him. And this child would be part of him, part of them both.

But was it even possible? Their species were so different she hadn’t even considered the possibility. What if something went wrong? There were no hospitals here, no doctors who understood human physiology.

The warmth in her chest cooled slightly, tempered by practical fears.

She would need to see the clan healer, the one who had treated her frostbitten feet.

But that would mean going to the clan caves, facing Broc and the others who viewed Rhaal with such mistrust. Would going there bring back his old demons?

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Rhaal had woken until his large hand settled gently on her shoulder.

“Yasmin?” His deep voice was thick with concern. He crouched before her, his glowing blue eyes searching her face. “You sick?”

His vocabulary had grown considerably, as had hers, but they still relied heavily on simple phrases and gestures. She shook her head, not ready to share her suspicion until she was more certain.

“Just thinking,” she said, placing her hand over his.

He didn’t look convinced but didn’t press further. Instead, he announced he would check the traps he’d set the previous day. Food stores were important with winter deepening.

After he left, she busied herself with chores, trying to distract herself from the suspicion that grew stronger with each passing hour.

She cleaned, sorted through the dried herbs they used for seasoning, and worked on a small carving project—a necklace she was making for Rhaal from the soapstone he’d given her.

But her thoughts kept circling back to the possibility of pregnancy. By midday, she couldn’t deny it any longer. All the signs were there—the fatigue, the nausea, the missed cycle. She knew her body, and her body was telling her something momentous had happened.

She rehearsed what she would say when Rhaal returned. He had taught her the word for “cub,” which seemed to be what Hothians called their children. She practiced the phrase silently, wanting to get it right.

“Rhaal… I think… a cub.”

Simple, direct. Just like him.

The hours crawled by. She paced the cave, alternating between excitement and anxiety. What would he think? Would he be happy? Worried? She had no reference point for how Hothian males reacted to impending fatherhood.

When she finally heard the heavy tread of his footsteps outside, her heart leapt into her throat. She stood in the center of the cave, hands clasped tightly together to stop them from shaking.

He ducked through the entrance, bringing a swirl of cold air and snowflakes with him. His white fur was dusted with fresh powder, giving him an ethereal appearance in the firelight. He carried two pikka, already skinned and cleaned, the fruits of his morning hunt.

He set them down near the fire pit and turned to her with a slight smile—that rare, precious expression that transformed his fierce features into something gentle.

The carefully rehearsed words flew from her mind. All her planning dissolved in the face of the moment’s reality.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she blurted out, her voice trembling with emotion. “I mean… a cub.”

He froze completely. The smile vanished, replaced by an expression of such intense shock that for one terrible moment, she feared she’d made a mistake. Perhaps he didn’t want this. Perhaps cubs weren’t part of the future he’d imagined for them.

His glowing blue eyes widened, staring at her face, then dropping to her still-flat belly, as if he could see through skin and muscle to the miracle that might be growing inside.

Then he dropped to his knees in front of her, gently cradling her hips as he pressed his face against her belly, his eyes closing.

A tremor ran through his powerful shoulders.

A deep, rumbling sound vibrated from his chest—not his usual growl, but something she’d never heard before. It was a sound of pure joy, of possessive pride, of wonder.

“Our cub,” he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. “Ours.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She threaded her fingers through his thick mane, holding him to her. The rightness she’d felt earlier returned tenfold, washing away her fears in a tide of shared happiness.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Ours.”

He looked up at her, and the naked vulnerability in his gaze took her breath away. This fierce warrior, this predator who had faced down threats she could barely imagine, looked utterly humbled by the prospect of fatherhood.

“You… happy?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

He rose to his feet, lifting her effortlessly in his arms. He carried her to their bed of furs, laying her down as carefully as if she were made of glass, then curling protectively around her.

His hand settled over her belly again, spanning nearly its entire width. The gesture was possessive, protective, and tender all at once.

“Need healer,” he said after a long silence. “Clan healer.”

She nodded, relieved that he’d been the one to suggest it. “Yes. To make sure everything is… good.”

He was quiet for a moment, his expression troubled. “Clan… not all kind. To me. To us.”

She understood his concern. Their last encounter with Broc had been tense, despite her attempt at peacemaking. From what she could gather, the clan’s mistrust of Rhaal ran deep, rooted in a history she still didn’t fully understand.

“We go together,” she said firmly, placing her hand over his. “I’m not afraid.”

A flicker of pride crossed his features. “Brave mate.”

The word “mate” had taken on new meaning in recent weeks. It wasn’t just a designation or a role; it was an identity, a connection deeper than any she’d known on Earth. And now that connection would be embodied in their child.

“When do we go?” she asked.

“A few days,” he decided. “Need prepare.”

She suspected he meant mentally more than physically. According to the map he’d drawn for her, the clan caves were on the other side of the ridge behind their cave but the trip would still take several hours on foot.

As night fell, they lay together in the warm furs, planning their journey in a mixture of his language and hers. The practical discussions helped ground her swirling emotions, giving her something concrete to focus on beyond the overwhelming reality of pregnancy.

But in the quiet moments between words, her hand would drift to her belly, and she would marvel at the miracle taking place within her. A child born of two worlds, of an impossible love. A bridge between species, between cultures.

A new beginning.

He seemed to sense her thoughts, tucking her against his chest.

“Sleep,” he rumbled. “Protect you both.”

As she drifted off, secure in his embrace, she felt a profound peace settle over her. A mate and now a child. Their child.