Page 6 of Yasmin and the Yeti
The cloak had come loose in her fall. Now crusted with ice and snow, it hung from her shoulders like a slab of concrete as she struggled to pull it back around her body with numb, clumsy fingers.
Frost had formed on her eyelashes, tiny crystals that blurred her vision. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear them, but they reformed almost immediately. Her hair, once loose around her shoulders, had become a frozen mass against her neck.
She took another step, then another. Each one seemed to require more energy than the last. The simple act of lifting her foot and setting it down again became her entire world, a task requiring complete concentration.
When she fell again, the impact barely registered. The snow cushioned her, almost gentle in its embrace. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the swirling white clouds.
It would be so easy to just lie here. To rest, just for a little while. The cold didn’t hurt anymore. In fact, a strange warmth had begun to spread through her limbs, a pleasant heaviness that urged her to close her eyes. Deep inside, a voice whispered how tired she was. So very tired.
The storm seemed to quiet around her, the howling wind fading to a gentle murmur. The snowflakes, which had been driving horizontally just moments before, now drifted down lazily, almost peaceful in their descent.
It wouldn’t be so bad to just sleep here, in this quiet white place. To let go of the fear and the pain and the desperate struggle to survive. Just to rest, finally.
Her eyelids grew heavy. She didn’t fight it. There was a certain beauty to this end, she thought distantly. Clean and quiet and pure.
As her eyes started to drift closed, the falling snow before her seemed to thicken, to gather and coalesce into a shape. At first, she thought it was just another trick of her failing mind, a hallucination born of cold and exhaustion.
But the shape solidified and grew more distinct. As white as the snow around it, yet somehow separate. Vaguely man-shaped, but broader, more massive than any human could be. It was huge, towering over her as it approached with a predator’s silent grace, impossibly light-footed for its size. The wind died completely as it approached, as if even the elements feared to disturb its progress.
She stared up at it, unable to move, unable even to feel fear anymore. The creature loomed over her, blocking out what little light remained. Its face was shadowed, but she could see its eyes—luminous, electric blue eyes that seemed to glow from within. They narrowed as they fixed on her, intelligent and calculating.
Death had come to claim her, she thought dreamily, wearing a face she’d never imagined. A magnificent snow demon, terrible in his power and beauty. A spirit of this frozen world, come to collect another victim of its merciless landscape.
Those glowing eyes were the last thing she saw as darkness crept in from the edges of her vision, gradually narrowing her world to a single point of brilliant blue.
Then even that faded, and she knew no more.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rhaal bent cautiously over the female half-buried in the snow. For a moment their eyes met, hers impossibly dark in her pale face, and a shock of something like recognition went through him. Her lips curved into a small smile and then her eyes closed. Swearing under his breath, he reached out and gently brushed away the snow that was beginning to cover her face, cupping her cold cheek, but she didn’t respond.
Her scent drifted up to him, the same sweet fragrance he’d detected at the crash site, but stronger now, more complex. Beneath the metallic tang of the offworld ship, there was something else—something warm and rich and utterly compelling. It filled his nostrils, flooded his senses, awakened something primal and long-dormant within him. A single, possessive word formed in his mind, bypassing all rational thought.
Mine.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. This was foolishness. She was an offworlder who had no right to be in his territory. Heshould leave her here, let the snow claim her as it had claimed so many others.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, his hands were already moving, gently brushing more snow from her face, her shoulders, her arms. He didn’t recognize her species, but she was small—impossibly small compared to him—and dressed in nothing but a thin thermal cloak far too flimsy for the killing cold of his world.
Her skin was a pale blue that didn’t appear natural and her lips tinged with purple. Ice crystals clung to her eyelashes and frosted her dark hair. Each breath she took was a shallow, wheezing struggle, the sound of a body on the verge of surrender.
She would not last much longer.
Without making a conscious decision, he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her against his chest. She weighed almost nothing, a bundle of fragile bones and frozen flesh against his chest. Her cloak parted as he lifted her, revealing a flimsy white garment that left her arms and legs bare. As he wrapped the cloak back around her, he could feel how dangerously cold her skin had become. Her body was limp and unresponsive, her head lolling against his shoulder.
The logical part of his mind—the part not clouded by her scent or the strange, protective urge he felt—knew that she needed warmth, and quickly. His cave was not far. He could build a fire, wrap her in furs. It might be enough.
It has to be enough.
He turned, cradling her tightly against his chest, and began to move back the way he had come. The snow had already filled inhis tracks, but he knew this territory as intimately as he knew his own body. Every ridge, every hollow, every treacherous drift was mapped in his mind.
He had gone perhaps half a mile when he sensed the presence of others. He came to a halt as two shapes emerged from the swirling white, moving with the same silent grace as he did. His nostrils flared, catching their scent. It was familiar, achingly so.Clan.
His muscles tensed as he watched them approach. He had not encountered any member of his clan in many cycles. They respected his self-imposed exile, as he respected their territory. The two scouts materialized fully from the storm, their white fur making them nearly invisible against the snow, but he recognized them both.
Dakar, the older of the two, stepped forward. His gaze flicked from Rhaal to the unconscious female in his arms, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion.
“Rhaal,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that carried despite the howling wind.
