Page 20 of Yasmin and the Yeti
He had to grit his fangs against the overwhelming urge to haul her over his shoulder, carry her back to their cave, and prove his claim in the most ancient way known to his kind. To mark her with his scent, his touch, to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind—including hers—that she was his mate in every sense of the word.
The intensity of his desire alarmed him. It was too public, too raw. He needed to get her away from these prying eyes before he lost control completely.
With a low growl, he grabbed the rest of clothes she had chosen, snatching them from the startled shopkeeper’s hands. He tossed a handful of credit chips onto the counter—far too many, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about such a trivial matter now.
When he took her small hand her fingers immediately curled around his, and the trusting gesture nearly broke his restraint again.
“We go. Now,” he rumbled, his voice still rough with barely contained emotion.
He pulled her gently but firmly away from the market, away from the curious stares and whispers, needing to put distance between them and the world. His long strides ate up the ground, forcing her to half-jog to keep pace. He knew he was walking too fast but he had to get her away from the market and he was afraid that once he had her in his arms, he would be unable to resist claiming her.
As they left the outpost behind, the wind picked up, carrying swirls of snow across their path. He welcomed the biting cold against his overheated skin, using it to anchor himself, to cool the fire raging through his veins. He knew he had crossed a line he could never retreat from. He had declared his claim not just to himself, not just to her, but to the world.
The knowledge should have terrified him. Instead, with each step that took them farther from civilization and deeper into the wilderness that was his domain, a fierce satisfaction settled in his chest.
Let them judge. Let them whisper. Let them try to take her from him.
She was his mate. And he would protect what was his.
As they reached the edge of the valley that would lead them home, he paused, turning to look at her. Snow dusted her dark hair, catching in the strands like tiny stars. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and their hurried pace, her breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.
She was beautiful. Fragile.
Mine.
The possessive thought echoed through him again, and this time he didn’t try to suppress it.
“Yasmin,” he said, her name a rough caress.
She looked up at him, her expression open and trusting, and something in his chest tightened painfully.
He had no words to explain what had happened, what he felt. His command of her language was still too limited for suchcomplex emotions. Instead, he reached out with one clawed hand, gently brushing a snowflake from her cheek. The simple touch sent a jolt of awareness through him.
She leaned into his palm, her eyes never leaving his. The trust in that small gesture humbled him, even as it stoked the fire of his desire. If she hadn’t been so small, so delicate, he would have taken her right then, right there. With a low rumble of frustration at his own lack of control, he gently pulled his hand away, then lifted her into his arms. She didn’t object, snuggling against him as they resumed their journey, his senses focused on her—on her soft body and the scent of her skin and the soft sound of her breathing.
He had claimed her publicly. Now he needed to get her home before he claimed her completely.
But as he carried her through the snow-covered hills, another thought occurred to him. The trader had recognized her species. He’d called herhuman, which meant there were more of her kind, perhaps more of them even in Port Eyeja. Uneasiness trickled down his spine as he glanced down at her. If she’d known that, would she have wanted to go to them?
Their communication skills were still too limited for him to have learned much about her past. He’d managed to discover that she’d been taken by the traders on the ship that crashed, but he didn’t know where or how. She’d never mentioned a family, not even when he’d talked about Ayla. But what if someone was waiting for her? What if, given a choice, she would choose to leave him?
He couldn’t keep her with him against her will. The thought of forcing her to remain if she didn’t want to be with him made his heart ache. The need to claim her still thrummed through hisveins, but he forced it down. He would do the honorable thing, he decided. He would ask her if she wanted to stay with him, or if she wanted to find other humans. He dreaded the answer, but his honor demanded it.
When they finally reached the cave, he set her down carefully and moved to rebuild the fire. She stood by the entrance, watching him with a curious mixture of anticipation and uncertainty on her face. He felt a similar tension building within him. Now that they were alone, the weight of his claim hung heavy between them, and he didn’t know how to proceed. But he knew he had to be honest with her.
He kept his focus on the flames, trying to gather his thoughts, to find the words. But before he could speak, she crossed the space between them and reached for his hand. Startled, he looked up to see her standing in front of him, her brown eyes searching his. In that moment, with her small hand in his, he felt something shift between them—some barrier melting away, leaving only the two of them, their breaths mingling in the fire-warmed air.
“Thank you, Rhaal,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “For… for claiming me.” Her cheeks darkened in a blush, and she looked away, her voice lowering to a whisper. “No one has ever done that before.”
His heart swelled with a fierce, protective joy at her words. He didn’t recognize all of them but he understood enough to know that no one had ever claimed her, ever made her feel cherished, protected. But he had. She was his—his to claim, his to protect.
The need to make her his in every way pounded in his blood. His hand tightened around hers as he fought the urge to pull her close, to crush her against his chest. But he couldn’t—not yet. There were things that had to be said first.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Yasmin studied Rhaal’s face in the firelight. Something had changed. The fierce passionate male who had claimed her at the market was gone, replaced by a stoic, distant version of her yeti.
He looked almost… sad. The firelight reflected off his fur and his blue eyes as he stared into the flames, his shoulders slumped. Why had his mood changed?
