Page 37 of Yasmin and the Yeti
Rhaal squeezed her hand, then stood. “Will find reason,” he declared, his voice hard with determination. “Will fix.”
The healer looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Many have tried.”
“Not me,” he growled.
She reached for his hand again, alarmed by what she was hearing. “Rhaal, wait. This sounds dangerous.”
He bent over her, his glowing eyes intent on her face. “Must do this. For you. For cub.”
“For clan,” the healer added quietly.
She could almost see the weight of responsibility settle on his broad shoulders. This wasn’t just about her and their baby. The entire clan—the people who had cast him out, who had blamed him for his sister’s death—needed him now.
“How long will I need to stay here?” she asked the healer.
“Until Rhaal returns.” The healer glanced at him. “She rest now. You prepare.”
He hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave her side.
“Go,” she told him softly. “I’ll be fine.”
He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “Will return,” he promised. “With answer.”
“I know you will,” she whispered. “But be careful.”
He kissed her then, a gentle press of his lips against hers, mindful of his fangs, and the tenderness of it brought tears to her eyes.
“Rest,” he rumbled against her mouth. “Grow strong. Protect our cub.”
Then he was gone, ducking through the cave entrance, his determined stride carrying him quickly out of sight.
The healer watched him go, then turned back to Yasmin with an assessing gaze. “He changed,” she observed. “Less broken.”
She met the elderly female’s eyes. “He was never broken,” she said firmly. “Just wounded.”
The healer’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “Perhaps.” She moved to adjust the furs around Yasmin. “Rest now. Sothiti works, but body needs sleep.”
As the healer moved away, she sank back into the furs, the lingering warmth of the sothiti pulsing through her veins. Her hand rested protectively over her belly, over the tiny life growing there—half human, half Hothian, wholly a miracle.
“We’ll be okay,” she whispered to her unborn child. “Your father will make sure of it.”
Outside, beyond the healer’s cave, she could hear the murmur of voices—the clan members discussing the return of their exile, the human female he had brought with him, the crisis they all faced. She wondered what reception Rhaal would receive as he moved amongst them, preparing for his journey into the mountains.
The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her was the small clay pot of sothiti sitting on a nearby shelf—seven or eight days’ worth of life, shimmering with ethereal blue light. Not enough. Not nearly enough for the months that stretched ahead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rhaal moved purposefully through the clan caves, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed him. Some faces showed fear, others curiosity, a few even displayed respect. He acknowledged none of them. His only focus was on finding out what was killing the fish and poisoning the sothiti parasite.
Broc intercepted him near the equipment stores. The male’s limp seemed more pronounced today, his staff tapping a steady rhythm against the stone floor.
“You’ll need these,” he said, holding out a set of cave hooks—tools designed for navigating the treacherous underwater passages. “The Sunken River turns violent in places.”
He stared at the offering, then at Broc’s face. There was no mockery there, no lingering accusation. Just the pragmatic offer of aid.
He took the hooks with a curt nod. “My female…” he said.
“Will be safe,” Broc finished. “The clan will protect your mate and cub.”
