Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Pashov gives me a curious look. “Of course. Why would I not?”
“No reason,” I say brightly, figuring now is a bad time to ask about the nightmares. “Just be careful when you go out.”
“Always,” he tells me, and kneels in front of me. He cups my face and, while my arms are full of wiggling child, leans in and gives me a deep, delicious kiss full of tongue and promise. “Perhaps if he sleeps when I return, you will let me lick your cunt until you whimper again.”
I can feel my face get scorching red. “All right,” I say, and I sound as fluttery as I feel. That was a bold statement if there ever was one. And it’s not like I’m going to protest that statement. I’m down with another round of pussy-licking. I’m thinking my mate is back to his old self more and more every day, and it makes me so happy.
If only I could stop worrying.
Pashov takes his spear and puts his knives in his belt, then heads out of the cave. “Back soon, my mate.”
“I’ll be here,” I call back after him, wry.
A few moments pass, and the cave starts to feel very empty. I begin to worry. What if his playful mood from today is an act? I can’t stop thinking about the nightmares, or the fact that it’s been weeks and his memories still haven’t come back.
He won’t be gone for long, I remind myself. Hunters go out all the damn time. I need to stop being such a worrywart. I can’t help it, though. I nearly lost my mate recently. Of course I’m going to worry about him.
I occupy myself with feeding Pacy. He’s fussy and doesn’t want to settle down, but after a belly full of milk, he starts to get drowsy and even crankier. I let him cry himself to sleep, though I’m starting to feel like I need a nap myself. Eventually, though, he’s quiet and drifts off, and I get up to put him in his basket in the next room. Finally, I can get some work done.
I hear the screen move in the other room and relief shoots through me. Pashov’s back already? I tuck Pacy in one last time and head back to the main cave.
It’s…not Pashov.
At first, I don’t know what it is. I’ve spent my time on the ice planet sheltered in the tribal cave, and so I’m not familiar with some of the creatures that live here. All I see is dirty white fur and long arms and legs as something sneaks into the cave. Then the stench hits me. Like wet, filthy dog, it permeates every inch of the small cave and makes my eyes water. I must make a sound of some kind, because it turns to look at me. That’s when I see the big, rounded eyes, the small owl-like mouth, and the flat face.
This has to be a metlak.
The creature is hunched over on the far side of the cave, away from the fire. It hisses at me, and I feel a bolt of alarm. My little Pacy is asleep in the next room. I have to keep him safe—but my knife is near the metlak, and Pashov is away from the cave. I don’t know what to do. Frozen with fear, I stare at the creature, waiting.
It crawls along the side of the cave, as if trying to get as far away from the fire as possible. It heads towards the packed baskets we have stacked along the back of the cave, and sniffs the air. It opens one, finds a packet of herbs, and shoves a handful into its mouth.
Is it…hungry?
Pashov told me that these lands were close to metlak territory. I didn’t give it much thought, considering that they, like the dvisti, aren’t much of an issue in the safety of the tribal cave. Out here alone, though, I stare at the creature and try not to panic.
How do I get it out of here? They’re known to be wildly unpredictable and fierce when cornered. Being in my cave probably counts as cornered.
It spits out the handful of herbs and swipes at its tongue with its long fingers, then makes a high-pitched, whistling sound before yanking down another basket and digging through its contents. As it moves, I can see ribs showing through the dirty, matted fur.
It’s starving.
And I feel a twinge of guilt over this creature. It’s clearly struggling to survive. I’m still scared of it, but maybe I can feed it and get it out the door before anything bad happens.
“Are you hungry?” I ask in a low, soft voice.
The creature hisses at me again, and I remember what Lila told me—that she had found one that understood hand signals. Well, to a certain extent. Maybe this one does, too? I gesture at my mouth, miming chewing.