the storms stop. Eventually, I just settle for soon .
“Soon,” she echoes and gives me a smile. She seems satisfied with my answer.
The day is going to be a long one. The suns would still be high in the sky if they were out, and we are snowed in, tucked away against the bitter cold. Georgie cannot withstand it like I can, and having her with me slows me down. I would not trade her presence for the finest hunting, but I must acknowledge that having my mate with me means I must make different choices than I would if I was alone. Caring for her has now taken priority.
The thought of being with her all day feels like a gift.
She gestures at the fire and says my word for fire.
“Yes, fire.”
“Fire,” she repeats. Then she grabs a handful of the furs she is sitting on and gives me a questioning look.
“Furs.”
“Furs,” she echoes. The words sound funny in her mouth, as if she has a hard time making the rumbling throat noises that I do. But I’m pleased she wants to learn how to communicate with me. For the next while, we name off things that are easily pointed at, and Georgie tries to pronounce them. Then, she goes back and repeats them in different orders each time, trying to learn the words.
Eventually, we run out of things to name in the cave and proceed to bodies. She pats her curly, disheveled locks.
“Hair,” I say automatically, amused that she immediately starts finger-combing her tresses. I will make her a bone comb when we return to my home cave.
“Hair,” she grumbles, giving up on the tangles. Then she leans toward me and pats my mane. “Hair?”
“Hair,” I agree.
Her fingers move to my horns, and she lightly skims one. “ Whazzis ?”
“Horns,” I tell her. I scarcely dare to breathe as she traces along it. Though my horns do not have much feeling, her breasts are close to my face and the scent of her arouses me, as does her fascinated touch. I long to grab her and pull her against me. Instead, I clench my fists and force myself to remain unmoving.
“ Whazzis ?” she asks again, and her fingers brush over my forehead, the bony ridges there, and then my nose.
“Face?” I don’t understand what she’s asking. I touch her cheek. “Face, like yours.”
But she gives a small head shake and rubs one of the ridges with a small fingertip. It makes my cock leap to attention, and now I’m fully erect and aching, my pulse pounding directly in my groin. Her fingers touch the ridges along my nose, and then over my brows, and then brush over my heart. “ Slikeharmr ?”
“It’s just skin,” I tell her. Hers is smooth all over, while mine has texture in certain places. Her funny, flat brow and tiny nose look odd to me, and her comment makes me think that perhaps I look strange to her.
Her fingers trail down my chest a bit more, and she keeps touching me with soft, ticklish brushes of her fingertips. My khui vibrates with need, and I have to close my eyes to brace myself. I’m going to burst across her hand if she reaches any lower, so I grab her hand before she can keep exploring.
Georgie is in control, but I cannot take much more of this gentle exploration. If she touches me again, I’m going to throw her down on the furs and fuck her until she screams with pleasure.
GEORGIE
Vektal takes my hand in his as I run my fingers down one big shoulder. It has that ridged, gnarled armor-like plate over one bicep and the back of a hand.
“No,” he tells me in his language.
I’m confused. I thought he liked me and wanted me to touch him. His soft leather leggings can’t hide the erection straining against them. I’m a little frightened by the sheer size of it, but I know Vektal would never hurt me. He’s been fussing over me all afternoon, making sure my wrist was all right, checking my bruises, and shoving small bits of cooked food into my mouth the moment they were ready. All the while, he was touching me with possessive little touches that let me know that he was
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