Page 28 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Y asmin tossed restlessly in the thick furs, her body heavy with exhaustion despite having done nothing more strenuous than sit up occasionally and work on some beads. The Healer had been firm—complete bedrest until they could be certain the sothiti was properly stabilizing her system.
“Your body fights itself,” Cera explained. “It is not just the Winter Womb. The cub is of both worlds, and your blood struggles to nurture what it does not yet fully recognize.”
She placed her hand on her still-flat belly, feeling a fierce protectiveness for the tiny life growing there. Their child—hers and Rhaal’s—a miracle neither of them had expected. She would endure anything to keep it safe.
The sound of soft footsteps drew her attention to the cave entrance. A female Hothian entered, carrying a stack of fresh furs. Her short fur was a slightly warmer shade of white, almost cream-colored in the firelight.
“I am Talvi,” the female said, her voice gentle as she approached. “I am a… friend of Broc.”
She tensed at the mention of Broc, remembering his grip on her arm, the terror of being taken from Rhaal.
Talvi noticed her reaction and made a soft, soothing sound. “Broc regrets frightening you. He thought…” She hesitated. “He has carried much pain since Ayla’s death. We all have. But he is a good male.”
She studied the other female’s face. There was more there than just friendship.
“You care for him, don’t you?”
Talvi nodded. “I do, but he has not yet healed.” Talvi busied herself replacing the furs around Yasmin with fresh ones, her movements efficient but gentle. “It is good that Rhaal has found you. That you chose him.”
“You’re not… bothered by me being human?” she asked, watching Talvi’s face carefully.
Talvi paused, considering. “The gods choose our mates, not us. If they chose you for Rhaal, who are we to question?” She dipped a cloth in cool water and gently placed it on Yasmin’s forehead. “Besides, any female who can bring that stubborn male back to the clan deserves our respect.”
The simple acceptance in Talvi’s words warmed something deep in her chest. She had expected suspicion or at least curiosity, not this matter-of-fact kindness.
As the day progressed, more females came and went. Many of them brought food—broths rich with nutrients that Cera insisted would help with the pregnancy and tiny sweet cakes—and she tried to eat, even though she had little appetite.
While resting between visits, she worked on her beads.
The soapstone Rhaal had given her was nearly gone, but one of the females had brought her a small pouch of various stones—some soft enough to carve, others harder and more challenging.
Working with her hands gave her purpose, a way to focus her mind away from her weakness and the danger Rhaal might be facing.
Talvi returned in the afternoon, settling by the fire pit nearest Yasmin’s bed. She watched Yasmin’s hands as they carefully shaped a small, intricate bead.
“Your work is very fine,” she said after a while. “You have a carver’s touch.”
She smiled, pleased by the compliment. “On my world, I made jewelry. Small things, but I loved the detailed work.”
Talvi leaned closer, examining the completed beads arranged on a small tray beside Yasmin. “These would look beautiful strung together. Perhaps…” She hesitated. “Perhaps when you are stronger, you might make a bracelet for me?”
The request, so simple and yet so meaningful, brought unexpected tears to her eyes. “I’d like that,” she managed. “I’d like that very much.”
Talvi smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. Then you must get well quickly.”
As night fell, Cera returned to administer another dose of sothiti and she drank it without hesitation, feeling the now-familiar warmth spread through her body.
The healer then knelt beside Yasmin’s bed and began to chant in a low, melodic voice. Although Yasmin couldn’t understand all the words, she recognized her name, Rhaal’s name, and the word for “cub” woven into the ancient prayer.
After Cera finished her prayers, she dimmed the fires for the night. “Sleep now,” she instructed her. “Your body needs rest to heal.”
The cave was quiet except for the soft crackle of the fires.
The air smelled of herbs and smoke and the unique, musky scent of the Hothians who had once seemed so alien.
The females who had visited throughout the day had treated her with a fierce, protective kindness that made her feel accepted, as if she were truly part of the clan.
But despite the comfort of that knowledge, she missed Rhaal with a steady persistent ache. It had been easier to ignore during the day with her stream of visitors and the bustle of activity in the caverns, but as silence descended and she lay alone in her bed, the loneliness grew sharper.
He was out there, somewhere deep underground, facing dangers she could only imagine. She sent a silent prayer to any gods who might be listening, imploring them to keep him safe, to bring him back to her and their unborn cub. They had come too far, survived too much, to lose each other now.
A sudden bustle of activity in the outer caverns made her sit up, her heart pounding. She tried to make out the distant conversations, but they were too far away. Frustrated, she was considering climbing out of bed when the healer reappeared.
“Don’t even think about it,” Cera ordered. “He had to report to the Elders about what he found, but he’ll come to you as soon as he can.”
“He’s back? And safe?”
A smile creased Cera’s weathered face. “Yes and yes.”
“Oh thank God.”
A relieved ear slid down her cheek, and Cera shook her finger at her.
“None of that. He’ll only worry if he finds you crying.”
She sniffed and managed a watery smile. “I’ll do my best,” she promised.
Time seemed to drag interminably as she waited for him, but several of the other females returned to keep her company.
“Rhaal tracked the poison to its source when our best hunters failed,” one female said with obvious pride. “They say he moved through the mountain like a ghost.”
“Of course he did,” another replied. “He has always been the best tracker. Even before…”
The female trailed off, but Yasmin understood. Even before Ayla’s death. Even before his exile. Even before the grief that had shaped him into the solitary, wounded male she had first encountered.
“He’s very skilled,” she agreed.
“Thank you, my mate,” a deep voice said from the entrance and then he was there, tall and handsome and safe, his eyes glowing with the familiar blue fire.
Despite her promise to Cera, she immediately burst into tears. He was across the room and lifting her into his arms before the first choked sob ended. She was dimly aware of her visitors leaving but all that really mattered was the big male holding her so tightly.
“I am here,” he rumbled, his hand stroking soothingly over her hair. “No need for tears.”
“You were gone so long,” she cried. “I was so worried.”
“I know, but I returned as soon as I could once I found out what was happening.”
“You found the source of the poison? What was it?”
“A secret lab…” He suddenly came to an abrupt halt. “You understand everything I’m saying, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said happily. “Njkall gave me a translator.”
“Njkall?” He shook his head. “He told me things had changed, but I didn’t realize how much.”
“And there’s another Hothian with a human mate. Maybe two,” she added, thinking of Polly.
He shook his head again. “I think Cera was trying to tell me that when she came to the cave but I thought she was interfering.”
She laughed. “Knowing her, it was probably both. But you found the problem and it’s all over now?”
He tensed and her stomach churned even before he shook his head.
“I’m afraid not. We need to return and destroy the lab.”
“But you said you found the source?”
“I did, but as long as the lab is there, they will keep poisoning the river. And it’s not just that. The lab is concealed in the Valley of Echoes. They desecrated a sacred place. It is where Ayla is buried,” he added, a world of pain in his voice.
“Oh, Rhaal, I’m so sorry.” As much as she hated the idea that he might be in danger, she knew nothing would stop him from returning. “When are you leaving again?”
“At daybreak. And I can’t stay long—I have to assist with the preparations.” Despite the warning, he shifted his position, settling back against the pillows with her and placing his hand over her stomach.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you too. Both of you.”
He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to her stomach, and then they were kissing, desperate and hungry for the taste of each other.
He covered her like a living blanket, and she was filled with him—his scent, his taste, and then, finally, the heavy warmth of his kotra as he slid into her aching channel and brought them both to a shuddering climax.
Afterwards, she lay cradled in his arms, her head pillowed on his broad chest.
“I have to go,” he said reluctantly.
She wanted to protest, to demand he stay with her, but she knew he needed to prepare.
“I know. But hurry back.”
“Always,” he promised, and slipped out of bed.
She was sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep but between the pregnancy induced exhaustion and the lingering satisfaction of their lovemaking, her eyes drifted closed.
As sleep claimed her, her last thought was not of fear for the coming battle, but of hope for the future.
A future where she and Rhaal would raise their child surrounded by a clan that had finally welcomed them both home.