Page 8 of Yasmin and the Yeti
Pain came first. A burning pain that dragged Yasmin back to consciousness—a sharp, tingling agony in her fingers and toes as if a thousand needles were pricking her skin. She tried to move but found herself weighted down by what felt like a mountain of heavy furs. Despite their thickness, she was still cold, her body shaking with tremors she couldn’t control.
The air around her smelled different. Instead of the sterile, recycled atmosphere of the ship, the air was rich with sweetly scented smoke and something else—a musky, wild scent that reminded her of forests after rainfall. There was something oddly comforting about that scent and she inhaled deeply as she forced her eyes open.
Firelight flickered against rough stone walls, casting dancing shadows across what appeared to be a cave. The flames crackled in a small, well-constructed fireplace set into one wall. And crouched beside it…
Her heart stopped.
Her snow demon was real. He wasn’t a hallucination born of hypothermia or a dream conjured by her dying mind, but a living being only a few feet away. Even in his crouched position he was massive, with shoulders so broad they seemed to fill the narrow confines of the cave. White fur covered his powerful body, thick and lustrous in the firelight, rippling over muscles that spoke of immense strength. The fur lengthened into a mane around his face, revealing features that were more humanoid than she’d expected—sharply angled cheekbones, a firm mouth bracketed by fearsome fangs, and a nose that was wider and flatter than a human’s.
Not a snow demon, she thought hysterically.A yeti.
As he turned towards her, she saw his eyes—glowing ice-blue, piercing through the dim light of the cave like twin beacons. They seemed to shine with their own inner light, unnatural and mesmerizing, holding her frozen in place. Those eyes contained an awareness, an intelligence that sent chills racing down her spine. They studied her with an intensity that made her feel utterly exposed, as if he could see through the furs to her bare skin beneath, and could read every thought flashing through her terrified mind.
Those eyes locked with hers, and a bolt of pure terror shot through her body.
Panic exploded in her chest and she scrambled backwards, dragging the heavy furs with her, suddenly aware of the chill air against her bare skin. She was naked beneath the pelts. Where were her clothes? What had happened while she was unconscious? Her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might burst.Predator, her mind screamed.
Her back hit cold stone. She was trapped.
The creature rose to his full height, and her terror intensified. He was enormous, easily seven-foot tall with powerful arms that looked like they could snap her in half without effort. His fingers ended in thick, black claws that looked sharp enough to tear through flesh with terrifying ease. A heavy leather harness crossed his chest and wrapped around his waist, the dark, weathered material intricately worked with strange symbols and patterns. The straps were thick and sturdy, secured with metal clasps that gleamed dully in the firelight. Small pouches and hooks hung from various points on the harness, along with the hilt of what appeared to be a knife.
Her fumbling hand brushed against something on the cave floor—something hard and sharp—and she grabbed it instinctively. A knife, she realized, made of polished bone with a wickedly sharp edge—the same kind of knife he was wearing. The hilt fit awkwardly in her still tingling fingers but she gripped it with desperate strength, her knuckles white, the handle digging into her palm.
Those eerie blue eyes flicked to the knife in her hand, then back to her face. But instead of attacking, he did something unexpected.
He crouched down again in what appeared to be an effort to look smaller and less threatening. He turned his head slightly to the side, exposing his neck in what seemed like a deliberately non-threatening posture. The gesture was surprisingly… gentle. Disarming.
He rumbled something in a deep, gravelly voice. She couldn’t understand the words, but the tone lacked aggression. It sounded almost… soothing.
She remained frozen, the knife still clutched in her trembling hand, but a sliver of rational thought began to penetrate her panic. If this creature wanted her dead, she would be. He could have left her in the snow or killed her while she slept. Instead, he had brought her to shelter, covered her with furs, and built a fire to warm her.
Her breathing gradually slowed. The knife in her hand suddenly felt ridiculous—what could she possibly do against such a powerful male with a small bone blade?
She took a deep breath, remembering that the first thing Kra’caow had done on the ship was to introduce himself.
“I—” Her voice cracked from fear. She swallowed hard and tried again. “I’m Yasmin.”
The words hung in the air between them, fragile and uncertain. She gestured to herself with her free hand. “Yasmin,” she repeated, her voice still trembling.
He watched her intently, his head tilted slightly. Then he placed one massive hand against his chest.
“Rhaal,” he rumbled, the sound deep and resonant in the small cave.
“Rhaal,” she echoed softly, testing the name. It felt right somehow—strong and primal, like him.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, then she gradually lowered the knife, though she didn’t set it aside completely.
He remained where he was, making no move to approach her. Those glowing eyes never left her face, studying her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
The fire popped loudly, making her jump, but he didn’t even flinch. He merely shifted his weight, settling more comfortably into his crouch, clearly prepared to wait as long as necessary for her terror to subside.
And somehow, that simple act of patience melted away more of her fear. Whoever he was, whatever his intentions might be, he was giving her time. Space. Choice.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “For bringing me here out of the storm.”
She gestured around the cave, hoping he understood. He didn’t respond verbally, but something in his posture eased slightly, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
The bone knife slipped from her fingers, clattering softly against the stone floor as she finally relaxed her grip. The tension in the cave seemed to ease as well, as if they had passed some invisible threshold together.
