Page 13 of Yasmin and the Yeti
“Khorva,” she repeated, her voice softer, higher, the sound strange but pleasing to his ears.
He nodded once, satisfaction warming his chest. He pointed to the stone floor beneath them.
“Muth.”
“Muth,” she echoed, the word awkward on her tongue but recognizable.
“Good,” he said in her tongue and she smiled happily, then pointed at the water in the stone basin near the fire.
“Water.”
“Water.” The word felt odd on his tongue, but she nodded. He pointed to the water as well. “Shen.”
“Shen,” she repeated eagerly. They continued in this way for several minutes, trading names back and forth for simple items. Her pronunciation was often imperfect but they were making progress, and the activity kept his focus on something other than his body’s desire.
As they continued around the cave, he pointed to the thick furs on the sleeping platform.
“Peltar.”
She repeated it, stumbling slightly over the harsh consonants. He found himself leaning forward, entranced by the way her small mouth worked to form the unfamiliar sounds.
“Peltar?” she asked, pointing to the thick white fur covering his arms and he shook his head, patting his arm.
“Rhalka.”
She leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. Her hand hovered in the air between them, a question in her eyes.
He remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe as she reached out and lightly touched the fur on his forearm. The contact sent a jolt through him, but he didn’t pull away. Her fingers were warm, delicate, and the gentle way they stroked through his fur felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. His kotra hardened instantly, pressing painfully against his sheath, and he gritted his teeth, determined to remain still, to allow her this exploration.
Her touch wandered, moving from his forearm to his bicep, his shoulder, and then his face. She traced a path across his cheekbone and down the line of his jaw, cautiously touching his fangs before her fingertips brushed the corner of his mouth. His control snapped, and he jerked away before he did something he shouldn’t do.
She made a soft, apologetic noise. “I’m sorry.”
He understood the intent, if not the words, and shook his head abruptly. She’d done nothing wrong—it was his lack of control which was to blame. He forced his attention back to the language lesson.
“Rhalka,” he repeated.
“Rhalk-cha?”
Her attempt to reproduce the word came out distorted, with an extra breath at the end. The sound was so close to their wordfor “sneeze” that a sudden unexpected noise escaped his chest before he could stop it. It took him a moment to recognize the unfamiliar sensation—laughter. He was laughing, a sound he hadn’t made in years.
Her eyes widened, and then she smiled back, clearly pleased at having amused him rather than embarrassed by her mistake. She tried again, exaggerating the mispronunciation, “Rhalk-CHA!” with a dramatic flourish of her hand.
The rumbling in his chest deepened, and for a brief, precious moment, the weight of his past lifted. The air in the cave felt lighter, warmer.
She was still smiling when her eyes dropped to the dark stone pendant he always wore, and she pointed at it, her expression questioning.
The brief lightness vanished. His hand moved automatically to the pendant, fingers closing around it in a protective gesture. He hesitated, the urge to retreat behind his walls nearly overwhelming, but she had offered him trust earlier. Perhaps he owed her the same.
“Ayla,” he said roughly. “Sister.”
She gave him a confused look, and he tried to figure out how to explain. His hand tightened around the pendant, then he rose, crossing to the storage chest against the far wall. He retrieved his sister’s bracelet, returning to show Yasmin the carvings of the two younglings playing in the snow. He pointed to each of them in turn.
“Ayla. Rhaal.”
She studied the intricate design, then nodded thoughtfully and mimicked the two figures growing taller together.
“Yes, sister.”
