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

by Ruby Dixon

  His arm presses to his abdomen, and then he tries to roll onto his side. As he does, something wet slides from his belly…and I realize it’s his intestines.

  “Oh no,” I moan. “Oh, no no no.” He’s trying to hold them into his body…and failing. Sand is getting everywhere on his wounds, and there’s so much blood. He twitches, clearly trying to get up, and blood bubbles from his mouth.

  “M’rsl,” he murmurs again, and lets go of his gut wound to reach for my face.

  He’s trying to comfort me while his guts are spilling out onto the beach.

  My heart hurts, even as my cootie purrs and purrs.

  A strange sense of calm washes over me, powered by shame. I’ve wailed and wept like La Llorona through this entire crisis, and T’chai’s falling apart in front of me…and his only thought is to comfort me? I need to do better. I shake my head and press my hands to his stomach, trying to staunch the bleeding.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper to my mate. “I’ve got you now.”

  9

  MARI

  It’s a long night.

  Every few minutes, I’m convinced that T’chai’s going to die. He grips my hand tightly as we move him into our hut and set him gently down on the bed. Someone brings water, and I begin the arduous task of bathing his wounds. R’jaal helps, and when we’ve washed most of the grit away, he begins to sew up the long, deep gashes as T’chai holds my hand and watches my face with glassy eyes.

  All the while, my cootie purrs to his.

  I hold his hand tightly, smiling at him. Calm. I don’t want the last thing he sees to be my snotty crying face, so I’m cool and collected. I help R’jaal and take over with the sewing when his hands shake. Once the worst is bandaged with leather and clean leaves, I bathe the blood away from T’chai’s skin and whisper small things to him.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I lie. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  It’s not like he can understand me anyhow.

  Lauren appears, and I can tell from the tension on her face that T’chai looks like a dying man. Of course he does. R’jaal held his guts earlier and carefully eased them back into place in his abdomen after I washed the sand off of them. Who lives through that? But Lauren mumbles something about how the other tribe—the one of four armed aliens—is going to come and help out because of the injuries here. Her mate went to go get them.

  That’s nice, I guess. I find I don’t care about anything other than T’chai.

  I don’t leave his side for an instant. I’m afraid that if I do, that’ll be the moment that he breathes his last. I don’t sleep, either. Instead, I keep waiting. Waiting for the moment I become an alien’s widow.

  But morning comes and T’chai lives.

  I bathe his wounds as he lies unconscious, wishing we had some sort of antibiotic here. Even if we did, has he lost too much blood? His eyes are sunken and he’s pale under his blue coloring. His lips are chapped and the small moments that he wakes up, he won’t eat or drink. He just holds my hands and murmurs words I don’t understand, and they feel stolen from me.

  The day passes. The sunlight fades into night, and I hear the others arrive in the camp. I hear M’tok arguing with someone, and S’bren talking, and a baby cry. I hear Lauren’s voice, but I don’t leave T’chai’s side.

  He lives through the night. And on through the next day.

  And the next.

  I don’t know how.

  I exist only to stay at his side and support him, to help take care of him. R’jaal helps me force fish broth and dribbles of water down his throat. Lauren helps me wash his wounds and tells me all about a raft that the aliens are building so we can leave the island. I nod and listen, but in reality, it doesn’t matter. I can’t think beyond T’chai drawing the next breath.

  Somehow, a week passes and he doesn’t die. I feel hollow and thin, strung out and helpless. My cootie’s stopped humming to his for long stretches of time, and when it does, it no longer feels good. Now, when it hums, it makes me ache all over. It makes me feel like a rubber band that’s been pulled too tight for too long, and I’m waiting to snap in half. I know it’s bothering him, too, because sometimes when his khui begins to resonate, he grimaces, even when unconscious.

  If he had enough energy to get hard, I’d ride him until he got me pregnant, just so the resonance could stop torturing us both. But he needs every bit of energy just to survive.

  Because…he’s not getting better.

  He’s not dying, but there’s still something terribly wrong. His wounds have crusted over and are red around the edges, and his veins are dark as even his blood is polluted. His face grows thinner and more emaciated, and his ribs are so prominent that I count them all at night when I can’t sleep. It hurts me to look at him…and it hurts me to look away. I sleep at his side, my fingers laced with his, listening as his breathing rasps shallowly and he struggles to make his lungs work.

  In moments like this, I love him so much and I hate him because he’s in so much pain and he still won’t die. I don’t want him to die, but sometimes he hurts so much—and I do, too, thanks to resonance—that I wish it would just happen so he could move on. No one should be in this much pain for this long. But T’chai barely hangs on, floating in and out of consciousness, and it’s destroying us both.

  “Live,” I whisper. “Wake up better tomorrow.” I touch his thin, sallow face. “Tomorrow, your fever will be gone, yes?”

  But the next day, he’s just as bad as ever. He burns with a fever and his belly is hard and swollen, and I want to scream. I thought the khui was supposed to take care of fevers? I thought it would help him heal?

  There are no answers, though, and no relief for my poor T’chai.

  Another week passes, and then another. T’chai looks withered in his bed now. He was so strong, and now he looks like a shadow of himself. I’m exhausted and barely hanging on myself. Now, when my khui hums with resonance, it hums alone. T’chai’s no longer resonates to mine.

  That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped aching, though.

  I still cling to my mate, holding his hand tightly as he’s loaded onto one of the rafts. The earthquakes have gotten worse and we’re escaping this place. I don’t point out that we don’t know if we’re going in the right direction, or even if there’s land to head to. All we know is that we can’t stay here.

  I rest my head on T’chai’s chest as S’bren and M’tok and R’jaal paddle the raft that feels far too small to carry so many people. In front of us, Lauren rides with the four-armed aliens, and I’ve been so wrapped up with T’chai that I haven’t even learned their names. She holds the baby as the others paddle, and casts worried looks back at me now and then. Behind us is the raft filled with the third tribe—four aliens I haven’t bothered to meet at all.

  They don’t matter. No one matters but my T’chai.

  He falls unconscious the moment we leave the island’s steamy shores, and by the time we’ve been on the rafts for a few hours, the temperature has dropped enough that my breath fogs in front of my face and S’bren exclaims, rubbing his arms. Everyone piles on leathers and stuff waxy leaves into the gaps of their clothing to try and keep out the cold. I shrug on a covering that R’jaal gives me, but I just curl up next to T’chai, who burns with fever and shivers at the same time.

  For three days, he’s unconscious, and it feels like I’m finally losing him.

  “I’m not ready,” I whisper to him, letting my icy tears wet his chest. “I’m not ready. Don’t leave me here alone. I’ve already lost too much.”

  For a moment—the barest moment—I feel his hand stroke my hair, and I smile.

  The journey seems to go on forever, and the entire island’s trying to kill us. Creatures from the water attack the rafts. The air’s bitterly cold and it snows on us, and we all have to huddle close to T’chai for warmth. We’re exhausted and hungry and…then the island explodes, just as I thought it would.

  The sound is deafening, and my ears ring
so loudly that I’m unable to hear anyone speak for the next few hours. The volcanic explosion sends out a tidal wave that nearly capsizes our convoy of rafts, and I hold tightly to T’chai even as I cling to the others so I don’t fall over the side. By the time it grows dark, ash is falling, mixed with the snow, and it feels as if the world is ending around us.

  Lauren says something up ahead, but I don’t look up. I just move closer to T’chai, who still sleeps, and I wish I could hear his khui purr to mine again. At least if his cootie sang, I’d know he’s still with me. It’s silent, and the silence hurts me. Lauren’s voice turns more excited, but my ears are still ringing and everything she says sounds muffled, like she’s far, far away.

  Then R’jaal says something, too, and he sounds excited.

  Dully, I sit up, and as I do, I see the shore nearby.

  I see snow-capped, jagged mountains. I see the lights of fires. I see people at those fires.

  R’jaal looks over at S’bren and M’tok, and there’s a hint of wonder in his voice as he speaks. I don’t know what he says, but my brain imagines it as something like “We’re saved.”

  Except…this is no better for T’chai, because there are no doctors. He’s going to die on a cold shore instead of a hot one, now.

  10

  MARI

  I remain on the raft, holding T’chai’s hand as Lauren takes R’jaal and her mate K’thar to meet the others. There are hums of excitement through the group that stays with the rafts, but I don’t feel it. T’chai still lies unconscious, his breathing rapid and miserable. His skin burns up with fever, and I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.

  I’d give anything to be a doctor right now. I should have gone to medical school instead of fucking off with my friends, taking time off after high school, and then getting a full-time job to pay the bills instead of going to college. I should have gone to nursing school instead of working tech support. I just want to know something—anything—that could help T’chai.

  I press another miserable kiss to his knuckles, hating how bony they are now. He’s little more than sinew and skin at this point.

  Footsteps crunch on the shore, and a cluster of newcomers appear with torches. I see golden gleaming skin, and then Veronica—mousy, clumsy Veronica—sits down next to me. She looks different than I remember her. Stronger. Braver. More.

  She studies T’chai and then looks over at me. “I heard he’s sick.”

  No shit, I want to say. I want to lash out at how healthy she looks, how plump-cheeked and happy despite the somber expression on her face. “He’s dying.”

  And he’s going to leave me all alone here.

  She spreads her hands, palm up. “I can help, Mari. I can heal.”

  A treacherous sliver of hope enters my heart. “What do you mean, you can heal?”

  “Kinda like a faith healer? Except it works through my khui.” She wiggles her fingers. “I put my hands on someone and I can feel what’s wrong, and…I can guide the khui to help fix it.”

  I lick my dry lips. “Like a curandera?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  I shake my head. It’s not important. I remember my abuelo talking about the curandera in their village, a local woman that everyone knew had “hot hands.” She would rub them together, and then place them on the body part that hurt, and you would get better. I always thought my grandfather was a bit superstitious, but maybe there’s something like that here. “Don’t worry about it. You can help him?”

  “I think I can.” Her gaze meets mine. “I don’t want to impose but…can I try?”

  Impose? Impose? A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. “If you can heal him, you can impose all you want.”

  She flashes a smile at me and then reaches out and gently touches T’chai’s other hand. Just as quickly, she pulls back again, and looks over at her mate. They say nothing, but some sort of communication seems to pass through them. The big golden man nods and steps forward. “We will take him back to our hut,” he says when I make a protesting sound and flatten myself atop T’chai. “He’s going to need more healing than she can do here on the raft.” He looks over at the others and barks a few words at S’bren and M’tok.

  To my surprise, they answer him. They can understand the strange tribe’s language. I’m oddly jealous as I watch the three alien men carefully gather T’chai and carry him to shore.

  I get to my feet, my legs cramping and weak. Veronica moves to my side, supporting my arm. “You don’t look so good, either.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s been a hell of a time.”

  “Then lean on me. I’ll fix you both up and you’ll be right as rain.”

  She smiles, but somehow I doubt her words. Sometimes it feels like everything will never be right again.

  The walk up to Veronica’s hut feels eternal. I know it’s just a short path from the shore to the hut itself. I can see it from the shoreline. The once-empty beach is now crowded with tents and cookfires, and it almost looks cozy. Up the sloping, pebble-strewn beach, there’s a cluster of huts at the top of a hill and Veronica’s is there. Any other time it’d be a short jaunt, barely something to think about. But because I’m so exhausted, it’s endless. I feel as if I’ve hit the last vestiges of my energy as she pulls back the flap on the tent and leaves my side to direct the others as they carry T’chai in. My mate is so still it’s alarming, and he hasn’t woken in what feels like forever.

  I miss him.

  It’s stupid to miss someone I haven’t even had a real conversation with…and yet, I do. I need him to get better. Not just because of resonance, but because I feel connected to him on several levels. I miss his smile. I miss lying next to him at night. I miss the touch of his hand. For the last month, even though he’s been deathly ill, he’s been with me, even if it’s just a little every day. Ever since we left the island, though, he’s been gone.

  I worry I haven’t gotten the chance to say goodbye, and it feels like a hollow ache in my chest. He’s supposed to be my soulmate. My other half. My media naranja. What do I do if he leaves me behind?

  The moment T’chai is gently laid down in the furs, Veronica is next to him. She puts her hands on his chest, biting her lip as she concentrates. I settle in next to her, trying to ignore the hushed conversation that R’jaal and the others are having with Veronica’s big golden mate. T’chai’s the only thing I care about right now, and I can’t understand them anyhow. They’re just a distraction. So I watch my friend intently, wondering if there’s any way to tell from her expression if T’chai’s going to live…or if we’ve just carried him all this way for nothing.

  Suddenly, I want to reach over and grab his hand, but I’m afraid of interrupting. I ignore the twitching of my own hands and play with the edge of the fur I’m wearing. Wake up, I silently chant. Wake up and get better, T’chai.

  Wake up for me.

  Please.

  Veronica is utterly still for so long that I start to get nervous. Her face is pale and her hands occasionally flex on T’chai’s chest, but other than that, she doesn’t move. I look over at Ashtar, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He watches his mate and sends R’jaal and the others on their way.

  “Mmm,” Veronica murmurs after a while, at the same time that my cootie begins its frantic, hungry purring.

  I rub my chest, trying to ignore the sensations flooding through me. Resonance felt good at first. Now, it just feels…awful. It’s like I’ve tipped over from good sensations over to terrible ones, like an unfulfilled orgasm that goes on for far too long and leaves your entire body over-sensitive. Or a full-body toothache. It’s just not fun. In fact, it’s miserable. But I’ll gladly put up with the misery because it means that T’chai is alive. As long as I resonate, he’s still holding on.

  T’chai’s cootie reacts to mine, starting up its song, and I reach over and hold his hand. He’s all skin and bones now, nothing but knuckles and too-thin fingers attached to a pale blue hand. I want to cry at how pr
ominent his veins are, and just quietly kiss them instead. “I’m here.”

  He just groans in pain, his entire body shivering with the strength of his resonance.

  Veronica presses her fingers to her lips, thinking. “This is a problem.”

  “What is?” I look over at her, cradling his fragile hand to my chest. Her words are scaring me. Five minutes ago we were at “I can heal him” and we’ve moved to “this is a problem”? That’s not good.

  She looks over at me. “The resonance. His khui is exhausted. When I reach out for it…it’s got nothing left in the tank.” Her lips purse and she reaches out and touches my hand, her eyes going unfocused. She’s quiet for a long moment, and then Veronica blinks. “Yours is wiped out, too. How long have you guys been resonating?”

  I lick my dry lips. “Weeks now. Maybe…a month?” It might be longer, or shorter. I’ve lost all track of time at this point. “We had sex, but I guess it didn’t work?”

  “Not everyone gets pregnant on their first round of sex, no matter how fertile.” Veronica’s mouth flattens into a thin line and she glances over at her mate.

  “What?” I ask. “What is it? What’s wrong?” I want to clutch T’chai’s hand tighter, but I’m afraid of breaking him.

  “I can’t do this while you’re both resonating.” She presses both her hands to her forehead, stressed. “It’s distracting his khui and I can’t coax it into healing him because all it wants is for you both to procreate.”

  I look over at my emaciated, deathly ill mate. There’s no way he can have sex. Just watching him makes me exhausted. Every breath is labored. If I’m exhausted from the incessant need of resonance, I can’t imagine how he feels. “He can’t.”

  “I know he can’t.”

  “You have to help him heal,” I say, panicking. “You promised!” Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I gently hold his hand to my lips. His skin, once so soft, feels dry like paper, and twice as hot. “Don’t give me hope and take it away again.”