Page 5 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)

CHAPTER FIVE

R haal bent cautiously over the female half-buried in the snow.

For a moment their eyes met, hers impossibly dark in her pale face, and a shock of something like recognition went through him.

Her lips curved into a small smile and then her eyes closed.

Swearing under his breath, he reached out and gently brushed away the snow that was beginning to cover her face, cupping her cold cheek, but she didn’t respond.

Her scent drifted up to him, the same sweet fragrance he’d detected at the crash site, but stronger now, more complex.

Beneath the metallic tang of the offworld ship, there was something else—something warm and rich and utterly compelling.

It filled his nostrils, flooded his senses, awakened something primal and long-dormant within him.

A single, possessive word formed in his mind, bypassing all rational thought.

Mine.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. This was foolishness. She was an offworlder who had no right to be in his territory. He should leave her here, let the snow claim her as it had claimed so many others.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, his hands were already moving, gently brushing more snow from her face, her shoulders, her arms. He didn’t recognize her species, but she was small—impossibly small compared to him—and dressed in nothing but a thin thermal cloak far too flimsy for the killing cold of his world.

Her skin was a pale blue that didn’t appear natural and her lips tinged with purple. Ice crystals clung to her eyelashes and frosted her dark hair. Each breath she took was a shallow, wheezing struggle, the sound of a body on the verge of surrender.

She would not last much longer.

Without making a conscious decision, he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her against his chest. She weighed almost nothing, a bundle of fragile bones and frozen flesh against his chest. Her cloak parted as he lifted her, revealing a flimsy white garment that left her arms and legs bare.

As he wrapped the cloak back around her, he could feel how dangerously cold her skin had become.

Her body was limp and unresponsive, her head lolling against his shoulder.

The logical part of his mind—the part not clouded by her scent or the strange, protective urge he felt—knew that she needed warmth, and quickly. His cave was not far. He could build a fire, wrap her in furs. It might be enough.

It has to be enough.

He turned, cradling her tightly against his chest, and began to move back the way he had come. The snow had already filled in his tracks, but he knew this territory as intimately as he knew his own body. Every ridge, every hollow, every treacherous drift was mapped in his mind.

He had gone perhaps half a mile when he sensed the presence of others. He came to a halt as two shapes emerged from the swirling white, moving with the same silent grace as he did. His nostrils flared, catching their scent. It was familiar, achingly so. Clan .

His muscles tensed as he watched them approach.

He had not encountered any member of his clan in many cycles.

They respected his self-imposed exile, as he respected their territory.

The two scouts materialized fully from the storm, their white fur making them nearly invisible against the snow, but he recognized them both.

Dakar, the older of the two, stepped forward. His gaze flicked from Rhaal to the unconscious female in his arms, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion.

“Rhaal,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that carried despite the howling wind.

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the greeting but offering none in return. He shifted his stance, angling his body so that his female was partially shielded from their view.

“We heard the explosion and saw the offworld ship fall,” Dakar added when he didn’t respond. “Njkall sent us to investigate.”

“The ship was destroyed in the fall,” he said curtly. “There is nothing to investigate.”

Malkir, the younger scout, moved closer, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of Rhaal’s female. His eyes widened. “An offworlder,” he said, his tone careful, neutral. “From the fallen ship?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he tucked his female more tightly against his chest. The presence of other members of his clan awakened old memories, old wounds, and beneath that, a new, fierce protectiveness surprised him with its intensity.

Dakar and Malkir exchanged a glance, some silent communication passing between them. Then Dakar spoke again, his tone cautious.

“Port Eyeja would be better equipped to help her,” he suggested. “They have healers there who understand offworlder physiology.”

It was a reasonable suggestion. A logical one, even, although the spaceport was farther than his cave.

But at the mere thought of handing her over—of releasing her to the care of others, of losing her scent, her presence—a sound rose unbidden from his chest. It started low, a vibration more felt than heard, then built into a rumbling growl that seemed to fill the air around them.

His lips pulled back, revealing his fangs in an ancient primal warning.

MINE.

Dakar took a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture as he gave him a worried look. “Rhaal,” he said softly. “Think carefully. This is?—”

His growl deepened, cutting off the words. The female in his arms stirred slightly at the vibration rumbling through his chest, a tiny whimper escaping her blue lips.

The sound pierced through his territorial display. She was cold, dying. Every moment spent arguing was a moment wasted.

“She comes with me,” he growled.

The two scouts exchanged another look, then Malkir nodded.

“We understand,” he said quietly. There was an odd expression on his face, a flicker of acknowledgement and… longing.

Dakar hesitated, then gave a slow nod as well.

“May the ancestors guide your path,” he said formally. After a final, worried glance at the female, he turned and began to move away.

Malkir lingered a moment longer.

“If you have need,” he said, his voice barely audible above the wind, “the clan remembers you.”

Then he too was gone, both scouts fading back into the swirling white of the blizzard, leaving him alone with his female.

For a long moment, he stood motionless, his breath coming in great, steaming clouds. The possessive rage that had gripped him slowly receded, leaving him shaken and confused. What had come over him? Why had he reacted so violently to a simple, sensible suggestion?

The female shivered in his arms, a full-body tremor that seemed to rattle her very bones. The sound that escaped her was small, pained, and it cut through his confusion like a knife.

She needed warmth. Now.

He adjusted his grip, tucking her more securely against his chest, and began to hurry through the snow. His cave was still some distance away, but he would make it. He had to.

Mine. The same possessive word echoed in his mind, and this time, he didn’t fight it. There would be time later to understand what had happened, to make sense of this strange, powerful reaction to an alien female.

For now, there was only the snow, the wind, and the fragile life he carried in his arms.

Mine to protect. Mine to save.

He moved faster, his powerful legs eating up the distance, racing against the cold that threatened to steal what was his.