Mari's Mistake: A SciFi Alien Romance (Icehome Book 11)

by Ruby Dixon

  Mari's Mistake

  Icehome Book 11

  Ruby Dixon

  Copyright © 2020 by Ruby Dixon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Kati Wilde

  Cover Photo: Depositphotos.com

  Edits: Aquila Editing

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  MARI’S MISTAKE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Epilogue II

  Author’s Note

  PEOPLE OF ICEHOME

  Need More Ruby Dixon?

  MARI’S MISTAKE

  I’ve ruined everything.

  I had a mate. Resonance. Happiness. But then T’chai’s attacked by ravenous sky-claw and almost killed. To help him recover, I tell the healer to turn off our unfulfilled resonance. It's temporary...or so I think.

  Big mistake. Because now my khui acts like it’s dead and it hates T’chai. But I still love him. How do we move forward when I can’t bear his touch? Is there a way to get back our happiness together, or is it time to give up on what we once had?

  T'chai has other plans, though. He's not giving up on us. If it means crossing the world, he's ready to do it at my side.

  1

  T'CHAI

  The waters of the cove seem unusually warm this day. Warm…and empty.

  That part is not so unusual. What was once populated with colorful corals and teeming schools of fish is now a nearly empty pool of water. I blame the Great Smoking Mountain. Not that it has anything to do with fish, but it is easy to blame for all the ills of my tribe. The weather is too hot? I blame the Great Smoking Mountain. The game is gone? The mountain. The coral dead? Mountain. The drift of ash in the air that makes it hard to breathe? Mountain. The stink of rotten things in the air? Mountain. The deaths of nearly my entire tribe?

  Mountain, mountain, mountain.

  I scowl down at the glimmering, clear water that swirls around my legs. On days like today, with a hungry belly and equally hungry friends waiting back at camp? It is hard to be content with life. It is hard to look around me and be grateful that I survived the death of the Great Smoking Mountain many turns of the seasons ago, if all I am going to do is slowly starve to death. There are no fierce warrior games, no provings, no tribal gatherings, no matings, no nothing.

  There are four of us, trying desperately to survive on a beach that provides less and less with every season.

  A small glimmer of scales catches my eye in the water, and I immediately camouflage, turning my skin the same color as the waves as I clutch my spear. I do not move, but wait instead. Wait for the pitifully small fish to swim in my direction. I barely breathe as it darts about the empty cove, picking at dead coral and taking far too much time before it wanders close enough for me to strike. Whip-fast, I thrust my spear into the water and stab it through its belly.

  With a growl of triumph, I lift my triple-pronged spear and study my catch. Barely two mouthfuls, but if I can find more, it will make a decent meal. Or if S'bren manages to find roots in the jungle, then we will make a stew and split four ways.

  The only good thing about Tall Horn being utterly decimated is that there are so few mouths to feed. I grimace to myself even as I think such a thing. I would trade a full belly for the return of my father and mother, my uncles, and my younger brother. I would trade that full belly even to see stern R'sash, our scowling, unpleasant chieftain one more time or the sniping, teasing elders who joked that I was too tall and thin to carry a spear if I was shaped like one.

  I am no longer that whipcord-thin youth I was…but there is no one to show. I glare at the tiny fish as I pluck it off my spear and hook it on the thick, woven cord around my waist. "Come now," I tell it softly as I ready my spear over the water again. "Bring your friends out to play."

  Another fish darts into view soon enough, this one smaller than the last, and I tense, waiting.

  "Ho! Brothers!" R'jaal bellows from the shore. "Come and see!"

  My ears prick, curiosity getting the better of me. R'jaal is not one to bound around making as much noise as a kaari in heat. That is S'bren. It makes me want to see what has brought such excitement to his voice, but the fish swims closer, tantalizingly close. Just a bit more and I can spear it…

  "T'chai!" R'jaal cries. "S'bren! M'tok!"

  I clench my jaw and focus. Come nearer, little bite of fish. Come…

  From afar, I hear S'bren make a sound of astonishment, and M'tok, too. Their voices do not carry over the calm slap of the water, so I slide back into the hunting trance, ignoring everything but the fish that moves ever closer—

  "T'chai!" R'jaal bellows again. "Come and see my female!"

  Female?

  I have heard him wrong.

  Surely.

  All the females died six turns of the seasons ago with the rest of the Tall Horn tribe. I have heard wrong. Perhaps he says “long sail” and has caught one of the flying lizards and wishes to share it. Distracted, I twitch—and the fish darts away under the coral.

  With a growl of frustration, I turn and wade toward the beach.

  My spear is clutched in hand, and I am far enough out in the shallow water that it is not a quick journey back. I can see my three clan-brothers hunched over something in the sand, their heads bent. Are they…eating the long sail without me? Surely not. Scowling harder, I jog toward the shore. "You had better save me at least a mouthful," I call.

  R'jaal sits up and turns toward me with an utterly radiant look on his face.

  I have never seen my friend look so…happy. So full of joy. Not even when he defeats his rival K'thar in some silly challenge or another have I seen R'jaal's smile as bright as the twin suns. But on this day, he grins as if the oceans have opened their bounty up to him.

  "Come and see her," he calls to me.

  Her?

  I jog a little faster, my feet finally breaking free of the water. I saunter up the beach, noticing that they kneel next to a tan creature of some kind. "What did you catch?"

  "I told you. A female. MY female." R'jaal's voice is utterly proud and he gestures at the large form on the sand. "Come and see."

  "Did you say a female?" I cannot believe my ears, but when S'bren gives me a wide-eyed look and M'tok cannot stop staring at the thing on the sand, I realize it must be true. I approach…

  …and then drop to my knees in shock.

  "A female," I murmur, stunned. "W-where did you get it?"

  For a long moment, I cannot seem to believe this is true. A female…but she looks like no female I have ever seen before. Her skin is a warm shade of golden brown that does not match anything I am familiar with, and it makes me wonder what she is trying to camouflage to. Her mane is thick and dark, but full of waves and curls. There a
re no horns, no fur, no extra arms to mark her as one of Strong Arm Clan or Shadow Cat Clan. She has no tail and cannot be of Long Tail clan, but they are all dead.

  Her face is small, her features unusual. She has dark brows, but her nose is tiny and she looks fragile all over. Her teats are swollen under the strange, heavy leathers she wears all over her body, and that fills me with disappointment for my friend. I point at them. "She is a nursing mother. She already has a mate."

  "I do not think so," R'jaal says excitedly. He takes her small hand in his and pats it. "K'thar took the other one and she had even bigger teats than this one. And he resonated to her!"

  "You let K'thar have one of the females?" M'tok is disgusted. "When we do not have mates for ourselves?"

  "Did you not hear me when I said he resonated to her?" R'jaal counters irritably. He pats the thing's fingers again. "I cannot bring you home a mate that is resonating to another. I took this one and left the beach."

  "How…" I ask, stunned. "How did you find this thing?"

  "Look at her hand." S'bren pokes the female with a stick, then uses the end of the stick to lift her fingers. "She has five fingers.”

  "And no fangs," R'jaal adds. "I do not think she is Outcast tribe. I do not know what she is."

  He looks down at her with an expression of pure joy on his face, and I hate that I feel envy. I should be thrilled for R'jaal. He is a good friend and has tried very hard to lead the remnants of Tall Horn. He goes without food sometimes so the rest of us can eat. He is a good hunter and I am glad that he was with us that day that the world fell apart.

  But I am…jealous.

  He has found himself a female. He will not be alone. He has a companion. There is no such hope for myself, M'tok and S'bren.

  "How did you find her?" S'bren asks. "Were there more?"

  "Only two," R'jaal says. "There was a great black egg that washed up on the beach. I made it there the same time K'thar did."

  "An egg?" S'bren's eyes are wide. "Since when do mates come out of eggs?"

  R'jaal just shrugs, looking down at his prize. "I must resonate to her soon. I do not trust K'thar's hunters to leave us alone. They will try and take her when they see him with a mate and find out that I have one here. And if word spreads to Shadow Cat…"

  I grunt. I have a friendly rivalry with U'dron there, but I will say nothing. U'dron is a good hunter, and we sometimes exchange information about quarry…but he is not Tall Horn. Tall Horn's needs must come first. "Your secret is safe."

  M'tok rubs his jaw, a strange expression on his face. "No horns. No tail. No fangs. I am going to come out and say it, brother." He glances at R'jaal. "She is rather ugly."

  S'bren chuckles and elbows M'tok. "Does it matter? Right now she is the prettiest female on the island."

  R'jaal snorts.

  Their words irritate me. I look down at the unconscious female, her prominent teats heaving with her even breaths. Her skin is such an odd shade, her face so…delicate. She is made very differently from us, but…I do not find her ugly. There is a beauty in her small features, in the full mouth that is such a deep shade of pink that does not match the rest of her camouflage. There is beauty in the elegant lines of her body and even her small hands and their many fingers.

  She might be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but I will not say this aloud. She is to be R'jaal's mate. I am happy for my friend and clansmate. I am. I am. "You are very lucky," I manage to say, and the words feel thick coming from my mouth. I know S'bren and M'tok must feel the same as I do. That we would give anything to be in R'jaal's place right now, claiming a female.

  S'bren leans forward. "How long before she wakes up now that she has hatched?"

  R'jaal shrugs. He taps the unconscious female's hand. "Perhaps she is tired."

  Or thirsty, I want to point out, because her full lips are dry and cracked and she wears hot layers of leather coverings that look unpleasantly warm. Part of me does not want to help R'jaal win her, though. Let him figure it out. But that is the jealous side of me speaking, and the only one that suffers is the fragile female, who does not deserve such pettiness. "I will get fresh water for her to drink."

  My friend gives me a grateful look, and truly, I feel like the worst clansmate ever for being so jealous of him. He would be glad for me if I resonated to a female. I should be glad for him, even as I stalk back to my hut and pull a dipper out of my fresh water bucket. I fill my waterskin and sling it over my shoulder, and take off the cord around my waist that holds my caught fish. That mouthful can wait a little bit longer. R'jaal's catch is far more interesting than mine.

  "Hurry," R'jaal calls as I emerge from the hut. He looks over at me, lowering his voice to a hiss. "She is stirring! Quick!"

  I trot back to his side and offer the waterskin to him, kneeling down next to the female. M'tok and S'bren have not moved, and I do not blame them. We all wish to see the female open her eyes, to hear her talk. Will she tell us which clan she comes from? Is she from a distant island like the Ancestors were? She has no horns like they did…but she does not have four arms or a tail.

  I do not know what she is, other than a mystery.

  The female's eyes flutter and she lets out a soft moan. She coughs, then turns on her side, spitting up seawater. She curls up, vomiting, and R'jaal pats her arm awkwardly.

  M'tok rubs his chin. "Are you certain it was an egg? She acts as if she has swallowed the ocean."

  "It looked like an egg," R'jaal tells us, equally confused. "Perhaps the egg came from a distant shore and water got inside?"

  I nudge him. "Give her fresh water when she sits up. At least let her rinse her mouth." She is hunched over on the sand, miserable, and I feel protective of her. There is something about her helplessness that calls to me, that makes me ache to help her. And when R'jaal touches her shoulder and she opens her eyes and looks at him, I feel another bolt of pure envy.

  I want her to look at me. Not him.

  I clench my hands, willing them to resonate and get it over with. To let him claim her already so my foolish envy can dissipate. Resonance is final. I tell myself this is why my foolish heart leaps when she looks away from R'jaal and over to me. Her eyes are beautiful, blue with a bright, strong khui and yet they have dark brown centers, more colors that are unfamiliar to me but no less fascinating. Her lips part.

  My heart throbs at the sight of her. It leaps so hard it feels as if it is jumping out of my chest, and I clutch at the space over my heart painfully. A moment later, my khui settles and then begins to drum a strong, urgent beat.

  Resonance.

  For me, and not for R'jaal.

  I groan, half-wanting to collapse and half-wanting to pull my female out of R'jaal's arms. I stare at her in shock.

  She trembles, her eyes wide as she stares at me, and glances around at us. "Whrmi?" she whispers, and her words are nonsense.

  But words do not matter. Her khui is beating in time with mine, making beautiful sounds…and I cannot stop staring at her in sheer wonder.

  A mate for me. Not for R'jaal or anyone else.

  "She is for you." The dull voice at my side is R'jaal, and when I look up at him, his expression is full of barely-hidden pain.

  "I did not—" I shake my head. "I did not ask for this. I would not steal her from you—"

  My oldest friend puts a hand on my shoulder, full of understanding. "It is resonance that has chosen. I am happy for you. I would rather it be someone in Tall Horn than in Strong Arm if it cannot be me." And he manages a smile.

  He is a better male than I am, and I think of my petty jealousy of how he touched the female. MY female. Suddenly my insane jealousy makes sense. My spirit knew before my khui did.

  This female is mine.

  2

  MARI

  When I wake up, it's to four strange men looming over me.

  If that's not enough to scare a girl out of her mind, they're all naked. And alien, but that part's not so surprising anymore.

  I
gasp, coughing more saltwater up, and try to scoot back on the sand. I have no idea where I am, or where Lauren is, but I'm alive. After escaping a flaming spaceship and the relentless turbulent waves of the ocean, I'm just grateful that I'm in one piece, though I'll feel better once I see Lauren. I glance around, trying to ignore the men looming in front of me, but I don't see my friend anywhere. "Lauren?" I croak, gazing up and down the unfamiliar beach. "Lo?"

  No answer, of course.

  I look at the aliens around me. One looks familiar, and I have vague memories of him carrying me and me promptly passing out again. That must be how I ended up here.

  Wherever “here” is.

  One of the men offers me a waterskin and I take it, wetting my mouth. My lips are cracked and dry and yet I somehow feel as if I drank half the ocean. I glance around me and I'm on a sandy shore, but this one is less pebbly than the one I remember. It's also warm as hell. Really, really warm, and I feel my skin dotting with sweat. The soggy, heavy layers of leather I'm wearing aren't helping things, either.

  One of the men says something, and when I glance over, they're not talking to me. I gaze at their faces, trying to recall if they're people I've seen before, but I don't recognize them. They're a paler blue than I remember, and their horns look funny. Instead of curling like a ram's horns, these stick straight up, almost like an antelope that's been electrocuted. They're ridiculously prominent, and I try not to stare as I sip more water.

  These are strangers, then. That makes me uneasy. I don't think they speak English—or Spanish—because they're looking at me as if I've grown a second head. Have they…never seen a human before? Oh god, what am I going to do if I'm stranded somewhere alone with aliens that I can't talk to? The thought makes me want to break out in hives.