Callie's Catastrophe: Icehome Book 9

by Dixon, Ruby

  And a few moments later, I stand in the darkness and frown to myself as my female has disappeared. Is she…hiding from me? Are hyoo-mans afraid of us because we are larger than them? Or is she as small and frightened as M'rsl is? T'chai's female is not the bravest, and she irritates me with her cringing and tendency to hide. I do not like the thought of this new female being afraid all the time.

  I rub my chest, lost in the overwhelming song of resonance. My groin aches, and my cock is stiffening against my loincloth. I need to find my female and take her, because resonance is…overwhelming in its ferocity. I can think of nothing but that glimpse of sun-warmed skin and wide eyes.

  "Brother?" A hand grabs my arm and turns me. S'bren watches me with a worried expression. "What is it?"

  "Can you not hear it?" I tap my hand on my chest. The khui's song is so loud in my ears it is astonishing to me that the answer is not obvious.

  S'bren just rubs his ear. "I cannot hear anything over the chatter of the females nearby." His eyes widen and he leans in. "Did you see how many of them there are?"

  "I only need the one," I tell him absently. "Help me find her." And I continue farther into the camp, my boots crunching on the strange, pebbly sand here. It is not much like the fine, pale grit of the sands on the island's shore. It is different, harsher here—like everything. It is bitterly cold, too, and I think of how little I am wearing—a few scraps of kaari hide leather and that is all. But I do not care. I will warm my mate—my furs-covered mate—with my body and we will make a kit. I grin to myself at the thought. A family. A mate. A future.

  All things I thought had been lost forever.

  Truly I am the luckiest of males.

  I pause again, looking at my surroundings. The endless rock on this shore seems to turn into a narrow canyon, and I can see two leather-covered structures nearby. Judging from the faint scents of herbs and waste, it is a place they relieve themselves. I suppose there is no jungle to take care of such things here. I glance at it absently, then turn to the cave in the distance. In there? Is she hiding like M'rsl likes to do, then?

  "Brother? Where do you go?" S'bren asks, following me.

  Is it not obvious? "You saw her, did you not? The one I resonated to?" Of course I am looking for her.

  "You resonated?" S'bren gapes, as if he just now realizes what I referred to. "What a lucky gift, brother. Which one?"

  "A dark-haired female."

  "Like L'ren?"

  I think of my female. Of her darker skin and rounded face, of her thicker figure. She is not much like L'ren. "No. She is squat."

  S'bren frowns. "I saw no squat female—"

  "She was. Short. Round. A face like leather."

  Someone gasps nearby.

  I…know that gasp. That sound. It makes my khui sing louder, and I scan the unfamiliar encampment with narrowed eyes. Ignoring my brother's curious look, I stalk toward the two leather-covered tents for waste and rip back the flap.

  Startled khui blue eyes gaze back at me. My mate—for it is her—fills my vision and I am pleased. I want to drink in the sight of her forever, and I ignore the cold and the smells and just stare. She is still short, it is true. Even at her full height, she will not reach my shoulder. And she is thicker than M'rsl in all ways. Her teats are large and strain against her fur coverings, twin bulges that draw my fascinated attention. M'rsl has always seemed as if the most fragile of branches, one that would snap in a strong breeze. But my mate is sturdy and plump and…I like it. I like it very much, I decide as I eye her thicker hips and imagine putting my hands there. Her face is still strangely hyoo-man with no horns, but her cheeks are round and her mouth is fascinatingly full.

  I decide that I like the way she looks.

  My female opens her pretty, fascinating mouth…and snarls something at me. “Oye comemierda, do you mind?”

  Before I can ask what these words mean, she snatches the hide from my hands and returns it to its spot, effectively shutting me out of the small booth.

  I point at it and look over at S'bren. My brother has a hand pressed to his mouth, but I can see the grin he is trying to hide.

  She sounded…angry. Did I interrupt her using the waste tent? I listen patiently, but I hear no noises from inside. So I try again. "Female."

  “What?” She doesn't come out to talk to me.

  I…do not know what to do. I think for a moment, and then cross my arms over my chest. “Are you unwell?”

  "I'm busy."

  Perhaps…humans take a long time in the waste tent? I never paid much attention to M'rsl's needs, but they are different in many ways. I grunt a response, fighting back my impatience. I want nothing more than to find a nice, quiet spot, and fulfill resonance with her, but I can be patient for a few moments longer. “Finish taking care of your needs and we will talk.”

  There is no response to my generosity. I resist the urge to tap my foot impatiently. This must be normal for humans. It must be. S'bren clears his throat, waiting, and I indicate he should leave and join the others. My brother is loyal, but I do not need a brother at my side for resonance. I want no one and nothing but this strange, angry-sounding female.

  S'bren leaves, his footsteps crunching as he goes. All gets quiet around us, and I strain my ears to hear something—anything—from my mate inside. Instead, all I hear over the insistent song of my khui is the chatter of excited voices in the distance, some of them speaking strange languages. Many of the voices are female, but there are others here, too—deep blue hunters with horns almost as proud as my own. No males of the hyoo-mans though, and I feel a vindictive surge of satisfaction at that realization.

  This female is mine and mine alone.

  A footstep gently crunches on the sand behind the tent. My ears prick and I immediately camouflage. I take a quiet step to the side, moving around the waste tent to see what approaches, what dares to threaten my mate.

  Instead, I see my female trying to sneak out the back of the waste tent, the ties that hold the leather completely undone.

  She is…escaping?

  I move forward and grab her arm, and she jerks in surprise, her eyes widening in fear for a moment before she realizes it is me. My camouflage has startled her, I realize, and I let it bleed away, returning to my normal color. "Where do you go, female?"

  "Away from you, cabron."

  "My name is not cabron," I tell her. "I am M'tok. Your male."

  She snorts and the sound is angry. "Not mine."

  What does she mean, not hers? "We are resonating." I touch my chest with my free hand. Even as I hold her wrist, I can feel the gentle pulse of her khui singing through her body. "I can feel you resonating. Do you not understand what that means?"

  The hyoo-man female lifts her chin and stares defiantly up at me. "I'm not resonating."

  I am taken aback. How can she not realize it? “But you know what it means?”

  She tries to jerk her hand from my grip. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Then you know we are resonating. We are mates.”

  “Nope.” She delivers the one word with a curl of her lip.

  Astonished, I stare at her. “Yes, we are.” I gesture at the camp, loosening my grip on her twisting wrist. I do not wish to hurt her, and she is wriggling more than a shell-walker. “Show me where your tent is, unless you would rather do it here in the open.”

  The female pauses. Her brows go down. “Do what?”

  “Mate, of course.” I study her, her small form, and think of T’chai and M’rsl. They have mated many times the first few days and she is not yet pregnant. Perhaps it is thus with all humans. “I will probably have to take you several times to ensure my seed takes.”

  Just the thought fills me with so much hunger. I want to touch her all over, to see if she is as soft as she is on her delicate wrist. Every moment I look at her, I see another thing to admire—her small nose, the even shade of her skin, the thick fall of her mane. She is not ugly at all. She is perfect.

  My perfect female cu
rls her lip at me in disgust. “You are delusional if you think this squat, leathery bitch is going to fuck you.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. Is she mocking me? "You cannot resist resonance. We are mated."

  "No, we aren't."

  I am…baffled. "But this is not an argument. I am stating a thing that is true. You resonate." I point to her chest, where even now, her glorious teats jiggle slightly with the force of the khui's song. "I resonate." I point to my chest. "We are resonating to each other. I am not making this up."

  "Doesn't mean we're mated." And she gives me a scathing look. "So let go of my wrist before I start screaming that you're trying to rape me."

  "Rape?" I let go of her. "What is this word, rape?"

  She rubs her wrist, glaring at me. "It means you're forcing me to have sex with you. And if you so much as try that, I will claw your eyes out, motherfucker."

  I…are we even speaking of the same things? She is so angry and I am just confused. "Do hyoo-mans force their females to have sex?"

  "Not the ones that want to live!"

  Good. I like that answer, because I do not like the thought of any male forcing a female to mate when she does not want to. What is the point if it is not pleasurable for both? "Then I do not understand your argument. It is resonance—"

  "That doesn't mean my legs fell open! And it doesn't mean that you can get between them."

  I shake my head again. Talking to this angry, defiant female is utterly confusing. I say one thing and she says another. "Female, you do not listen to me. I only speak of resonance. If you will come with me, I shall explain it to you before I touch you." And I hold my hand out to her. "And then you will enjoy my touch."

  "Oh wow, so you're going to mansplain to me about how sex works and then I'll just what, fall all over myself with countless orgasms?" Her hands go to her hips and she gives me the most exasperated look ever. "What part of ‘no’ do you not understand? I don't want you. I don't want to be anywhere near you. I sure don't want you after talking to you."

  My patience grows thin. "You do not have a choice—"

  "So it IS rape—"

  "It is resonance!" I bellow, extending my open hand again since she makes no move to take it.

  "Yeah, well, it might as well be rape because that's the only way you're getting between these squat, leathery thighs." She practically spits the words at me, and when I drop my hand, she tosses her hair and storms away, heading into the large nearby cave.

  I want to go after her. Every spark of my spirit tells me to chase after her, to keep saying words until she understands what I mean. But…she does not listen. And I think of how I held her wrist, and how she rubbed it furiously once I let her go. She did not like my touch.

  She says I will force her.

  My cock throbs in tune with my khui, and I turn away from the cave and stare at the icy waves of the distant waters until my body calms. It seems impossible to push away resonance, but I keep thinking of the word “rape” and that withers my arousal. I would never harm her.

  She is my mate. My reason to get up each morning and face the day. I have one, now. I have a future with potential and not just waiting for the inevitable end. My tribe will go on, and my female—my mate—will be at my side.

  I…do not even know her name. I offered her mine and she cast it aside as if it was nothing.

  Frustrated, I cross my arms over my chest. The cold hits me like a wave, and I realize that I cannot stay here in the darkness alone. My female will think I am waiting to “rape” her, and the thought makes the bile churn in my gut. I retreat, skirting wide around the encampment filled with happy people and those that talk over one another in messy conversations. It has not been so loud and boisterous in…fifteen turns. I think of my clan's village, of the many huts that once had so many people in them, all silent now. And I am strangely uneasy. I see my brother out by a distant tent with R'jaal and realize I am not the only one who feels unnerved at the noise. I head toward them.

  R'jaal lifts a hand in greeting and gestures at the tent nearby. "The hyoo-man healer works on T'chai. She says he is near death."

  I snort. "I am no healer and I could have told you such a thing." We have all agonized over T'chai and his wounds that have healed red and angry. We have all blamed ourselves for the skyclaw attack that injured him. "Can she fix his wounds?”

  "She says yes, but who knows? She is hyoo-man and they are…different." R'jaal shrugs. My brother S'bren looks sad. I know how he feels. We are a small enough clan with four. If we are then only three…the thought is unbearable.

  “He will recover, then,” I say confidently. If my will can make it so, then it will be so. “Where is his mate?”

  “She has not left his side.” R’jaal looks at me, and then looks down at my chest, where the khui song thrums loudly. Blatant envy crosses his face. “Do I congratulate you? Where is your mate?”

  “Hiding.” My voice is flat.

  “Hiding?” R’jaal scoffs, glancing at my brother. “Do you scare her, then?”

  “I honestly do not know.” I spread my hands, as bewildered at her actions as they are. As we wait outside the healer’s tent, I tell them of meeting my female, of her appearance, how it felt to resonate, and most strangely of all, her anger and denial of our bond. “It makes no sense,” I complain to them. “T’chai’s hyoo-man female took to the resonance sweetly.”

  R’jaal’s expression is grim. “You remember that with kinder eyes than he does. She was scared.”

  “Bah. She is scared of everything.” I lower my voice so she does not hear my voice. “But this female—my female—she was not scared. She just denied me. As if she can do that!”

  “You cannot make her want you,” my brother says.

  “Resonance is resonance. It is not about wanting. It is about mating. You do not get to choose!”

  R’jaal shakes his head and puts a hand on my shoulder. “This is but our first night amongst L’ren and her people. Get to know your mate. Be patient. She will come to you in time.”

  I nod slowly, thinking of my mate. Of the flash of fire in her eyes and her curves. I hope she does not take long to come around. “Patience,” I echo. Patience, and I will learn her name.

  Surely in a day or two she will come to her senses.

  4

  M’TOK

  A handful of days pass. Agonizing, long, tormenting days in which my body blazes with hunger for my female, but she avoids me. Days in which we wait by the healer’s tent, checking on T’chai and his trembling mate, and then setting up an encampment for our clan.

  In these awful days, I learn a few things.

  I learn my mate is named C’lie. The humans pronounce it strangely, but then again, they pronounce everything strangely. Even amongst them, she stands out in my eyes. She is short, true, but her mane is thick and beautiful. Her skin is the color of finely cured leather, and her attitude is that which both infuriates and attracts me the most.

  She is strong in heart, my mate. She is bold and fearless, laughing and quick, and she is not afraid to tell others when they are wrong. I like that.

  But I am not good at being patient. I learn this, too. As day after day passes and C’lie makes no move to speak to me, I grow frustrated. I approach her at the fire and she gets up and leaves. I try to bring her small gifts—a beautiful shell on the beach, or a large nut that washes up on shore—and she rejects them with a withering look in my direction.

  Each night I go to sleep in my tent, aching and alone. S’bren wanted to sleep in the same tent as me as we always have, but now I am mated. It does not matter that my mate refuses to acknowledge that I exist. I have a nest of furs for myself that is very different from the woven mat I slept upon back in our beach village on the island. Soft, though. Not as soft as C’lie, I imagine…and that is another problem.

  I think about touching C’lie all the time. It is good that I am alone in my furs, because since I cannot touch her, I rub my cock near constantly, trying to reli
eve some of the unending, aching need. It never works, but I try it anyhow. How can she bear the strain of ignoring resonance? It consumes my every thought, but to look at C’lie and you would not know she suffers the same way I do. She smiles and laughs with her friends. She sews by the fire and weaves. She scrapes skins and helps with cooking and makes sure that she is never, ever alone.

  I have tried talking to her. She either yells at me or ignores me entirely, so I throw myself into chores around the camp to distract myself. Perhaps she will see I am a good tribesmate and an excellent provider and she will reconsider. So I fill my tent with goods my mate will need, and forage for herbs. I craft skins. I dry fish. I make small pots from the claylike soil as I did when I was a kit and my mother made pots over the fire. I make all kinds of things for my mate, anticipating her eyes lighting up with pleasure when she sees what a fine, industrious male she has as a mate.

  And yet…C’lie never sees me working. She does not care.

  R’jaal says to be patient, but my patience is wearing thin.

  I need a plan.

  * * *

  The plan comes to me a few days later, when I hear two of the females giggling as they clean clothes out by the shore. They scrub berries and rub the clothing into one of the tidepools, then rinse in fresh water and stretch the leathers out to dry. As they do, they chatter about males and their bodies. I keep my back to them as I fish, but all the while I listen and pretend to be tending to my nets.

  “So who do you think has the best body, then?” the young female asks another. “I think I’d have to vote U’dron.”

  “Mmm, def Ashtar for me,” says the other. I do not know their names—I do not care to learn any names save that of C’lie. All the other females mean nothing to me.