by Ruby Dixon
Ice Planet Honeymoon
Rukh & Harlow
Ruby Dixon
Copyright © 2021 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 Photo: Depositphotos.com
Cover Design: Kati Wilde
Edits: Aquila Editing
Created with Vellum
Contents
Ice Planet Honeymoon: Rukh & Harlow
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Afterword
Want more to read?
Ice Planet Honeymoon: Rukh & Harlow
Rukh and Harlow are starting over at the beach, away from everyone else. Newly mated, they’re just now realizing what a monumental task it is to create a home when you’ve got nothing but the leathers on your back. It’s even worse when you can’t talk to your mate.
Will misunderstandings ruin everything?
This story is an extended epilogue for readers who want a little more of their favorite couple. Don’t start here! Start with book four, BARBARIAN MINE.
1
HARLOW
One of the first mornings at the beach, I wake up to something scuttling over my foot.
It hasn't been the most comfortable night's sleep already. Sand is everywhere, and the cave we're bunking in is tiny and cold. Those things don't matter the moment I look up at the sunlight streaming in from the cave and see one of the scorpion-things perched on my boot. I kick it off, sliding backward in the cave in horror. Everywhere I look, there's more of the damn things. They're on the furs, at the mouth of the cave, and I swear there's one on the wall. I make a noise of distress at the sight.
My mate, Rukh, is instantly awake at my terrified sound. He sits up, growling and ready to protect me, a question in his eyes. I point at one of the things. They're horrid looking, a cross between a crab and a scorpion with lots of legs and a segmented tail. Rukh plucks the nearest one off the wall and promptly bites the head off.
I squeal in horror again.
He holds the limp thing out to me, an offering. "Har-loh?"
"I'm not eating that," I cry. "Not on your life!" The defunct vegetarian in me is appalled at the thought. I've had to make a lot of changes since coming to this icy planet, not the least of them being a change in my dietary habits. And so far eating meat hasn't been too bad, even if I do randomly get cravings for a hamburger, of all things. But seeing Rukh holding that awful-looking thing out to me to eat? I can't do it. My throat clenched tight, I shake my head.
He stares at it, and the look in his eyes is uneasy. "Har-loh…no?"
"No," I manage. "My seafood has to be cooked."
"Cookt?" he echoes, shaking the floppy thing at me. "Rukh cookt?"
Rukh doesn't know a lot of language—any at all—because he's been feral for so long. He's picking up some of my words, though, desperate to talk to me. And “cook” is one of them he knows.
I stare at the thing, trying to get over my initial disgust. It's food, I remind myself. It's food it's food it's food.
"Cook it, sure," I manage. "Thank you."
Rukh grunts, the sound full of pleasure, and tosses the dead thing down on the ground. Then he grabs another one of the things. He lifts it to his mouth, ready to bite the head off, and then glances over at me. As if recalling the horror on my face, he changes tactics at the last moment and snaps the head off instead. It makes an awful crunching sound, followed by a splat of liquid, and then tosses it down onto the other. Within moments, we have a neat, tidy little pile. He doesn't care that they pinch at him with their stinger-pincher things, or that they scuttle away fast when they see his hand descending. Rukh is faster than them, and something tells me he's done this plenty of times before.
I can't begrudge the man for surviving, even if it is a little rough on my sensibilities.
I curl up in the back of the small cave and watch Rukh as he chases the smaller ones out of the cave with a flick of his hand and beheads the larger ones. It hasn't been very long at all since Rukh and I resonated. Not very long since he hit me over the head and stole me, and I'm still adjusting. It's a lot to take in all at once—leaving behind the sa-khui tribe that's welcomed me since I got to this planet to go out into the wild alone with Rukh, but he's made it clear that to him, they're the enemy.
Since he's my person, I'm not leaving his side. We'll just have to figure out how to manage with just the two of us.
It's one reason we're at this beach, I think. From what I can tell from our (admittedly short and mostly inferred) conversations, the weather will be warmer here throughout the wintry brutal season, and we're much farther away from the tribe that he wants so desperately to avoid. His father's grave is here, too, and I suspect he just likes the beach. It's pretty, even if it's nothing like the beaches back home. It's cold and rocky and a little violent, but the tide still rolls in to hit the sands, and there's a comforting familiarity with that, even if the sands are greenish and the tide is slushy with ice.
Rukh piles up all the dead scorpion-crabs and then begins to make a fire near the entrance to the cave. It's a small one, and I inwardly wince when he tosses the dead things directly onto the flames. I have to remind myself that Rukh's used to eating his food cold and raw, and the fire's for me. I can't really complain that he's not skilled at grilling his food if he's never grilled before, can I?
He's trying to please me, and really, that's all a girl can ask for.
Once they're all on the fire, he looks over at me with expectation. I beam approval at him, and love that a slow smile curves his mouth. "Thank you," I say softly.
"Cook," Rukh says as he moves around the fire and back to my side. "Rukh cook Har-loh."
I giggle. I know what he means, but it just sounds a little funny to hear. "You're doing lovely, Rukh. I appreciate it."
He sits extremely close to me, pushing aside some of the loose furs I piled atop us when we slept. He's naked—he's pretty much always naked—and Rukh leans in close, touching my jaw. "Rukh kiss Har-loh," he murmurs. "Yes?"
He's definitely learned all the “important” words, my wild, ferocious mate. He's got kiss down pat, that's for sure. "Kiss," I whisper, and lean in to brush my lips over his. I won't think about him biting off the head of one of those scorpion-crab things, because I might think it's gross, but to him, it's just food. I don't want him to ever feel ashamed around me. There's nothing wrong with him; it's me that has to adjust to life here.
So I touch his face gently and kiss him. Kissing Rukh is never a chore. If anything, it feels a bit like Christmas every time, which is an odd way to think about it, but it fits. He acts as if every time I kiss him, it's a gift. And I feel like every time that I kiss him, I'm being given something special as well. So…Christmas. It makes me happy to touch him, to kiss his firm mouth, to give him pleasure. I think about all the years he grew up in the wild without anyone to talk to, much less anyone to kiss, and I'm happy that resonance paired us together. It doesn't matter that he scared me in the beginning. I saw the lonely, aching man beneath all the dirt and fell in love.
Rukh groans softly against my mouth, tugging me to the furs. He's ravenous for attention, my mate. Doesn't matter how insignificant the touch is, he wants more. I keep that in mind as I kiss him, making sure to touch him all over, brushing my fingers over his skin and down h
is neck. I murmur his name between little presses of our lips, letting him know how pleased I am with him and how happy I am to be here with him. He can't understand my words yet, so I'll give it to him in actions.
"Har-loh," he rumbles, his khui purring despite the fact that we've already resonated. Just being around one another is enough to make our khuis respond, and I place my hand over his heart, where his khui “sings” to me.
Rukh brushes his nose against mine, then nips at my lower lip. His hand slides to the loose waist of my leggings, and then he pushes inside. He's ravenous, my mate, and it's an eagerness that I share. I thought things were supposed to slow down with resonance, but it's been a few days now and I still feel as insanely hungry for him as ever. I still wake up with him touching me in the middle of the night, and it excites me.
It's not a chore to be touched by him. Not in the slightest. I'm still getting used to this planet, to resonance, and to the thought that we've made a baby. But adjusting to him? No hardship at all. "Touch me," I whisper. "I don't mind."
"Touch," he rumbles, and his hand steals between my thighs. He's a quick learner, and all it took was for me to show him once what I liked and now he's determined to do it right every damn time. I moan, clinging to his shoulders as he rubs lightly at my clit. "Har-loh mine." His voice is so possessive as he leans in and nips at my ear, repeating the words. "Har-loh mine."
Fuck, when did he learn “mine” and do I even care? I rock against his hand as he works my pussy, his finger lightly dancing over my clit. I bury my hands in his hair and clench my body against him as he nibbles on my ear and seems determined to give me a hard and fast orgasm even before breakfast. Need ratchets up in my body and before I can even process things, I'm coming hard and fast, my pussy flooding with my release. I let out a little cry as I come, dazed at how he can make me get off so darn quickly.
He kisses me again, his movements gentle and tender. "Har-loh."
"Rukh mine," I tell him softly. I smile up at him, all dopey-eyed pleasure, and run my hand along his chest.
This makes him happy, too. He gives me a fierce look, as if he likes the idea of me calling him mine. In that moment, though, the sand-scorpions start to pop and sizzle on the fire. Reluctantly, he pulls away and moves to the food. "Rukh food Har-loh," he says instead.
"If we must," I say, fighting back a little disappointment. I wouldn't mind rolling around in the furs for a while, but I guess that's not how you survive out here. It's a lot of work, and I need to start thinking like my barbarian does. "Food, and then we start to make a home, right? Right."
Rukh only grunts an answer.
2
RUKH
I will never grow tired of watching my female eat the food I have brought for her. I know she does not like the look of the crawlers, but she enjoys the flavor when they are sizzled atop the fire. I must remember to do that every time. Har-loh likes all her food warm. Har-loh likes everything warm, I realize, as she piles a few of the furs over her body before coming to join me by the fire. She does not walk about in nothing but her speckled skin. Instead, she piles the skins of others atop her and shivers when she does not have enough of them.
This is another thing I must learn when it comes to my mate. Har-loh is fragile and weak compared to me. I must take care of her. I must handle all the things that are too difficult or that she does not like to do, because I am her mate. I hand her one of the hard-shelled things and she immediately drops it into the sand, hissing and licking her fingers. "S'tewhawt," she fusses, sucking on her thumb. "Gimmemowment."
I touch the hard-shelled creature, but it does not seem too warm to me. She has gotten sand on hers, though, so I crack mine open, revealing all the tasty white flesh inside, and set it down on a corner of the animal skin in front of her.
Har-loh's expression grows soft. "Dankyewbehbeh," she tells me, and my cock surges in response to her soft words. I love hearing her speak.
I nod and take the one she dropped, brushing off the grains of sand before cracking it open and eating it. I watch as she picks at hers with dainty fingertips, nibbling on the tiny bits of flesh she pulls free. She is so…soft. And pink. I worry that I will not be a good mate to her. That I will not be able to take care of her like I should. I am fine with sleeping in the sand. I am fine when the weather turns brisk and the clouds come and do not leave for days and days. But these things will be hard on my little mate, and the thought of that makes my gut clench with fear.
I cannot lose Har-loh like I lost my father. I cannot go back to having no one at all. Har-loh is everything to me. She showed me how to kiss, and how to put a kit inside her. She showed me how to wash. She smiles at me and she is teaching me words. I have never been so happy as I am now, with Har-loh at my side. It scares me, a little. I know of too many nights when I woke up and there was no one to talk to, no one to give me food when I was hungry. Too many times I was sad and alone, missing my father.
I will not let my Har-loh be sad and alone. With that thought racing through my mind, I pick up another crawler, crack the hard shell open, and offer it to my mate. "Eat."
After we eat our fill, Har-loh makes noises that she wishes to leave the cave. It is safest for her inside, but if she wishes to see the great salt water, I will not deny her. It is a fascinating thing to look at, and I find the constant roar of the waves soothing. I watch as my mate puts on all the furs, covering her speckled skin, and then smiles at me. "Reddytewgoh."
I grunt and wait for her to leave the cave. I plan on staying at her side for as long as possible. Har-loh is clever about a great many things, but she is not as hardy as she should be. She is delicate and fragile, and I will not have her hurt.
When she emerges from the cave, she reaches for my hand. I wait, wondering if she has something to show me, but all she does is hold my hand. At my baffled look, she just chuckles and reaches up to touch my face with her other hand. "Snew to yewissit?" But she gives my hand a squeeze and does not let go, then tugs me along, indicating I should follow her.
I do. I would follow her anywhere.
Har-loh talks in her happy voice as we walk on the beach, but I do not know the things she says. I am content to listen to her babble and to walk at her side, drinking in her scent and watching her movements. Her bright mane tangles in the breeze and she pushes it behind her small ears constantly, but she never stops talking. She does not let go of me, either, and I decide I like the warm press of her hand clutching at mine. Does she hold on to me so I will not leave her side?
As if I would ever leave her behind.
My mate crouches and picks up something from the sand. It is a hard shell, one that comes from a creature with many legs. "Takedis wif us," she says to me, holding it out.
She wants me to look at it? I lift it to my nose and sniff it, but the creature inside is long gone. I examine it for a moment, and then toss it back to the ground.
"No!" Har-loh cries, letting go of my hand. She picks the thing up, and the look on her face is sad when she picks up the two broken pieces of it. "Rukh, no."
"No?" I do not understand. I make the gesture for food, confused. Is she hungry? "Eat? Har-loh eat?"
"No," she says again, a little more calmly. There is frustration on her face as she pushes the two pieces together again. "Couldabeen playt." She looks up at me. "Needta mayk a home."
I stare at her, trying to understand. I hate that I do not have the mouth sounds like she does. I want to tell her how lovely she is. How looking at her makes me happier than a full belly. How when I wake up in the morning and she is at my side, there is such joy in my heart that it makes me ache all over. That I love the speckles on her face as much as I love the little sounds she makes when I am putting my cock inside her. I want to say so many things to her.
But the words I have are very small. "Har-loh…repeat?"
The look on her face turns soft, and she moves forward, pressing her teats to my chest. She tilts her head back and lifts her face to mine like she does when
she wants to push her mouth against mine in a “kiss.” I lean down and give her one, and she smiles up at me. "Home," she tells me. "Har-loh Rukh mayk home."
"Home," I echo, then point at the broken shell. "Home?"
She chuckles and shakes her head, tugging on my hand again. "Home," she repeats, leading me away from the water's edge. She pulls me along after her, returning to the cave we slept in last night. Then she turns and gestures at me. "Rukh Har-loh home."
She's…tired? I try to grasp what she is saying. Does she wish to sleep? I motion to go inside, but she shakes her head again. Frustration flashes through her gaze and she gestures at the entirety of the small cave. "Home…sew wekkan haf home fur behbeh." She pats her flat stomach. "Kit."
I touch her stomach, trying to understand. Is her kit coming now?
Har-loh shakes her head again. She purses her lips, thinking. "Rukh, Har-loh, kit." She pauses and gestures at the fire pit. "Fire. Furs. Cave." She makes a big circling gesture with her hand and looks at me again. "Home."
I frown, trying to follow. All these things are this word? Both of us, our kit, the furs, the shell she wished to keep…and then realization strikes me. I have seen animals make a nest for their young. Does Har-loh wish to make a nest? I put a hand to her belly. "Home… Har-loh Rukh kit home?"
She nods excitedly. "Dinkyew gottit, behbeh."
"Home," I repeat to myself. A nest. A safe place for my mate and I to have our kit. It should be comfortable, and safe. I think of the distressed sounds she made this morning when the crawlers were on her boots. I look at the small cave, tinier than the one I left behind in the mountains and not nearly as comfortable. This will not do.
