Page 7 of Yasmin and the Yeti
He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the greeting but offering none in return. He shifted his stance, angling his body so that his female was partially shielded from their view.
“We heard the explosion and saw the offworld ship fall,” Dakar added when he didn’t respond. “Njkall sent us to investigate.”
“The ship was destroyed in the fall,” he said curtly. “There is nothing to investigate.”
Malkir, the younger scout, moved closer, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of Rhaal’s female. His eyes widened. “Anoffworlder,” he said, his tone careful, neutral. “From the fallen ship?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he tucked his female more tightly against his chest. The presence of other members of his clan awakened old memories, old wounds, and beneath that, a new, fierce protectiveness surprised him with its intensity.
Dakar and Malkir exchanged a glance, some silent communication passing between them. Then Dakar spoke again, his tone cautious.
“Port Eyeja would be better equipped to help her,” he suggested. “They have healers there who understand offworlder physiology.”
It was a reasonable suggestion. A logical one, even, although the spaceport was farther than his cave. But at the mere thought of handing her over—of releasing her to the care of others, of losing her scent, her presence—a sound rose unbidden from his chest. It started low, a vibration more felt than heard, then built into a rumbling growl that seemed to fill the air around them.
His lips pulled back, revealing his fangs in an ancient primal warning.
MINE.
Dakar took a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture as he gave him a worried look. “Rhaal,” he said softly. “Think carefully. This is?—”
His growl deepened, cutting off the words. The female in his arms stirred slightly at the vibration rumbling through his chest, a tiny whimper escaping her blue lips.
The sound pierced through his territorial display. She was cold, dying. Every moment spent arguing was a moment wasted.
“She comes with me,” he growled.
The two scouts exchanged another look, then Malkir nodded.
“We understand,” he said quietly. There was an odd expression on his face, a flicker of acknowledgement and… longing.
Dakar hesitated, then gave a slow nod as well.
“May the ancestors guide your path,” he said formally. After a final, worried glance at the female, he turned and began to move away.
Malkir lingered a moment longer.
“If you have need,” he said, his voice barely audible above the wind, “the clan remembers you.”
Then he too was gone, both scouts fading back into the swirling white of the blizzard, leaving him alone with his female.
For a long moment, he stood motionless, his breath coming in great, steaming clouds. The possessive rage that had gripped him slowly receded, leaving him shaken and confused. What had come over him? Why had he reacted so violently to a simple, sensible suggestion?
The female shivered in his arms, a full-body tremor that seemed to rattle her very bones. The sound that escaped her was small, pained, and it cut through his confusion like a knife.
She needed warmth. Now.
He adjusted his grip, tucking her more securely against his chest, and began to hurry through the snow. His cave was still some distance away, but he would make it. He had to.
Mine.The same possessive word echoed in his mind, and this time, he didn’t fight it. There would be time later to understand what had happened, to make sense of this strange, powerful reaction to an alien female.
For now, there was only the snow, the wind, and the fragile life he carried in his arms.
Mine to protect. Mine to save.
He moved faster, his powerful legs eating up the distance, racing against the cold that threatened to steal what was his.
CHAPTER SIX
