Hannah's Hero (Icehome Book 6) Read online

  That world is gone now.

  Instead of endless green, there is nothing but white. Instead of warmth, there is the chill of frozen water as it rains down from the skies in “snow.” There are no trees, only rocky cliffs and jagged, distant mountains.

  But there are females here…and even if my female ignores me, it is better to be here so I can watch over her.

  I wipe the last of the sap off on my leathers and then return to my seat next to my friend and clansmate N’dek. He stares into the fire, utterly melancholy. His mane is messy, his braid nearly undone, and he smells as if he has not bathed in days. There are hollows under his eyes and his expression is dull. He rubs the healed stump of his leg absently as he stares into the fire and ignores me.

  He looks as if he is in one of his sad states, where he does not want to be around anyone, where he does not get out of his sleeping nest for days on end and no one can reach him. I thought he was coming out of that, but now I worry he is slipping back to his old ways. So I nudge him to distract him. “Did you see that?”

  “What?” N’dek continues to rub his stump.

  “H’nah looked at me for longer this day. Do you think she is warming toward me?” When he only shrugs, I continue. “She still ran, though. What should I do?”

  He sighs and flicks an irritated look in my direction. “I do not care, J’shel.”

  Irritation is something, at least, and it is better than his sadness. “Why do you not care?”

  “Because no female will ever want me.” He turns away, pretending to gaze off into the distance.

  My teasing jibes die in my throat. I choke on silence and guilt and I steal a glance at the stump that he keeps bandaged even now, though there is not anything left that the healer can regrow.

  His wound is my fault. It is J’shel that has destroyed N’dek’s life, and the guilt of it weighs me down every day.

  No wonder H’nah does not want me for a mate. Perhaps she knows my shame. Perhaps her khui has told her and this is why she avoids me. Or perhaps N’dek spoke of it and she is horrified that she would resonate to such an unworthy male.

  All of this feels as if it crushes my spirit inside my chest. Defeated, I rub my neck and bite back a sigh. “Do you want to go to the beach with me, brother? We can see what is washing up from the island. Perhaps there will be fresh ground nuts.” The big nuts with the tasty meat were his favorite once. When he doesn’t answer, I encourage, “We should enjoy the bits of home we can find while we can still find them.”

  “No,” he says after a moment. “I will stay here. At least I can attend to the fire without someone else to drag me about.”

  His words are like knives into my chest. I flinch and force myself to my feet. Even though my female does not want me, I cannot fight my protective instincts. I shift my camouflage, adjusting my skin color until I blend in with the sand and leave my warm cloak by the fire. To anyone that looks around, they might see a dark mane or my leggings, but I will not be noticed if I can make it to the rocks and blend in there. I leave camp and head in the direction that H’nah went, following her crunching steps. She moves loudly, noisily, as those that have never hunted do, and I muse that if there were ever game on this beach, it is long gone from the humans that constantly chatter and drag their feet through the sand, making noises without a care in their heads. I catch up to H’nah swiftly and remain several paces back. She drifts towards a cluster of females on the beach, and I move to the rocky shoals, half-hiding behind a loose boulder and letting my skin camouflage do the rest.

  I watch my mate, hungry for every glimpse of her. She is rounder than some of the others, but I like that her short legs have curves and that her teats bounce and jiggle when she walks. I like that her hips are wider, because I imagine my large hands on them and it makes my cock ache so badly that I nearly lose control. She wears a thick bundle of white furs over her tunic, making her look like a puffball with a head, but I imagine peeling those layers off her in private, revealing what must be pink skin all over.

  And I groan. My cock throbs almost as painfully as my khui does. I look around to see if anyone is nearby and I am about to be discovered, but the humans speak in low voices a hundred paces away and the others are at the encampment. No one is here to listen to me resonate uselessly…or to watch as I touch myself to the sight of my mate.

  I shift my camouflage ever so slightly with a touch of my mind, making sure that I blend with my surroundings, and then I ease my leather loincloth down, releasing my cock. It practically erupts from its confines, and I take my aching length in hand, stroking it as I watch H’nah. She stands apart from the other females, a distracted look on her face. Does she think of me, I wonder? Is that why she looks so miserable? I stare at her rounded face and her pretty pink mouth, imagining her lush lips curving up in a smile of welcome.

  A shudder moves up my spine and my shaft twitches in my hand. I can feel my sac tightening already, and I imagine what it will be like to push her rounded pink thighs apart. L’ren has fur between her thighs, I remember. Will H’nah have the same? I study her pale brown mane, the color of unripened ground nuts, and imagine such a thing between her legs. Is it as soft-looking as her mane is? Will her cunt be tight as she clasps me against her?

  The breath hisses from between my teeth and I spill my seed onto the surface of the rock. It steams and hisses in the chilly air, and I hastily move away, stuffing my cock back into my loincloth. I retreat to another rock and watch my mate, still panting. That was not fulfilling. Nothing is anymore. After all the females in our tribe died save for Z’hren’s mother I’chai, I knew I would never experience the pleasure of a mate. I am no stranger to taking myself in hand and stroking pleasure out. But lately it has not been…enjoyable. There is something missing, and I know that missing thing is my mate. H’nah. I wait for her to accept me.

  When she accepts me…I hope that day is soon. I rub my chest, where my khui sings its lonely melody, and drink in her movements. She stares out at the waves, then at one of the brown-skinned females who crouches low on the beach, toying with something. Her expression remains distracted and she looks tired.

  So she is not as unaffected as she pretends. For some reason this makes me feel better. Ever since my khui called out to hers, I have not been able to rest. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, I cannot even think straight. All I think about is my female. Never did I hope that I would resonate, and to do so the moment we stepped onto this beach? I thought surely the ancestors were smiling upon me.

  But H’nah ignores me. And with every day that passes, she continues to ignore me, and my hope dies in my chest every time she turns away.

  Perhaps this is my punishment for not being a strong enough hunter to save N’dek. I am to wither away with want of my mate until I die of loneliness, surrounded by the remnants of my clan. I watch H’nah for a moment more, desperately wanting her, imploring her to turn and look at me. To see me through my camouflage and to smile in my direction. But she stares out at the waves and I sigh.

  L’ren was not so difficult to K’thar. Am I doing something wrong, I wonder? And because I cannot think of anything—or anyone—but H’nah, I flick my long braid over my shoulder and jog back to camp in search of K’thar, determined not to look back at H’nah…because she will not be looking for me anyhow.

  K’thar sits by his fire, a fur cloak tossed over his shoulders as he feeds bits of kah to his flyer, Fat One. Fat One screeches and flaps his bad wing at the sight of me but does not come to my shoulder. Instead, he burrows into the crook of K’thar’s arm and puts his nose out, waiting for more treats.

  To my surprise, the dark-skinned flyer is wearing a fluffy furred vest over his chest. “Did you make leathers for your pet? He looks ridiculous.”

  The flyer reaches for a chunk of kah with his tiny claws, bringing it to his mouth and nibbling on it. “Not only are they leathers,” K’thar tells me, “but L’ren stuffed them with extra layers to keep him warm. His wraps are warmer than mi
ne.” And he crooks a smile in my direction.

  “He is a flyer,” I point out.

  “He has no fur. He is cold here,” K’thar says easily. Everything is easy for him now, with his pretty L’ren at his side. He has a mate and a full belly after turns and turns of starving on our island. Of course he is happy. I feel a stab of resentment.

  “Where is your mate?” I ask, moving to sit near his fire. My own cloak is back at the main fire and now I am feeling its lack. I tuck my four arms close around my torso, doing my best not to shudder against the bitter wind.

  “She is with G’hail and V’za. They wanted to show her some good plants to gather for warm drinks.” He makes a face.

  I do, too. I am still getting used to drinking hot things. Back on the island, nothing was better than a cool, crisp mouthful of water. Here, everything is cold so they drink hot things all day long and put leaves in them for flavor.

  It is…not my favorite.

  “Did you see R’jaal this morning?” K’thar asks me, his tone becoming tense. In his arms, Fat One squeaks a protest and bites at his thumb angrily, and K’thar hands him another bit of food. The flyer settles down in the crook of his arm once more, chittering an angry retort.

  “R’jaal? No. I was not looking for him, though.”

  “Mmm. What about M’tok or S’bren?” When I shrug again, he asks, “T’chai?”

  I tilt my head at him, curious. “You know as well as I do that T’chai has been unable to leave his nest for a full turn of the moon.”

  “But he can leave it now,” K’thar says, giving another bit to Fat One. “And he walks farther every day.”

  “I have not seen him, or anyone else in Tall Horn. Should I have?”

  K’thar is quiet for a moment. He feeds his flyer, then takes the last bite for himself and shoots a glance in my direction. “R’jaal visited my tent last night. He wanted to have words with me.”

  “Words? About what?”

  The hunter is silent for a moment, the only sound the scratch of Fat One’s claws as he digs into a pocket built on the front of K’thar’s tunic specifically for him to hide in and burrow away from the cold. K’thar rubs the bristle on his chin for a moment, and then finally speaks what is on his mind. “R’jaal and Tall Horn are not happy. Shadow Cat, either. No one from Shadow Cat has resonated at all. M’tok has resonated but his female will not mate with him. T’chai resonated to M’rsl but the healer silenced their song, and so now they do not sing at all.” He shakes his head. “They feel it is unfair that Strong Arm has all the females.”

  “All the females?” I sputter with anger. “How do they think this?”

  “Because I have L’ren and you have H’nah.”

  Bitterness wells in my chest. “I do not have H’nah at all and they know this.”

  “Yes, but they feel the way she treats you is different than the way C’lie treats M’tok. H’nah does her best to ignore you.” He shakes his head. “C’lie hates M’tok. She told him he will never be able to touch her, ever. And of course, A’tam is unhappy that his pleasure-mate no longer wants him.”

  I spread my arms wide, frustrated. “How is this the problem of Strong Arm? Besides, it is not as if we have influenced things. Resonance chooses. We do not choose for it.”

  He inclines his head, indicating he hears my words. “They feel because L’ren is bolder and because V’za and his mate have taken in Z’hren that we are with the females more than they are. That is what they think is unfair. They want us to back off from the females. They are certain, R’jaal says, that they will resonate if we remove ourselves from their vicinity.”

  “Remove ourselves?” I echo, disgusted. “I have resonated to H’nah. N’dek is the only one that is left and—” I bite back the words before I can say them, because they are ugly and bitter. Resonance will not care if N’dek only has one leg, I remind myself. I shake my head at K’thar and bound to my feet, pacing. “This is nonsense, my brother. R’jaal says these things because he is jealous. You know he wants a female for himself.”

  “Everyone does. Is it really so unreasonable?”

  “To ask us to leave camp so they can prance around the females alone?” I explode. “Yes, it is unreasonable. They fear us as their competition. They always have. Strong Arm has always been known as the best clan with the most capable hunters. It is no different here on the frozen shore than it was on the island.”

  K’thar just gives me a curious look.

  His silence bothers me. I keep pacing, my tail flicking even as I clasp one set of hands behind my back. “Well?”

  “Strong words.”

  “But they are not wrong words.”

  “But…perhaps they are stronger than they should be because of your own situation. T’chai did not come to speak to me, after all. A’tam did not. R’jaal did.” He taps at his brow and then points at me. “Think on that.”

  “Because he is jealous.”

  “Because he is lonely,” K’thar corrects. “He is willing to ask ridiculous things if it will get him what he wants.”

  “A mate.”

  “What else is there?” And he grins, so pleased with himself. I can tell the moment his thoughts go to L’ren and my jaw clenches.

  It seems R’jaal is not the only one full of envy.

  “So…where is your female this fine morning?” K’thar asks, reaching one hand into the front pocket of his tunic to scratch at Fat One. “Counting rocks on the shore? Counting stars in the sky? Counting how many times she must count before we all run away screaming?”

  I scowl at him. “Not funny.”

  He lifts a hand and pinches his forefinger and thumb. “A little funny.”

  I roll my eyes. H’nah does count many things, it is true. She has told others she is “taking stock,” and while her actions annoy some of the others, I am sure there is a good reason for it. “I see nothing wrong with her actions.”

  K’thar just grins at me. “You will have to tell me if she counts while you are in the nest with her.”

  I growl in his direction. K’thar is of an age with myself and N’dek, but he has always taken on a leadership role, ever since the rest of the clan was destroyed by the Great Smoking Mountain. Right now, though, I do not think of him as a leader. Right now I want to push him off the log he sits on so he will stop teasing me about H’nah. “You know as well as I do that she is not sharing my nest.”

  “Still fighting it?” His teasing expression quickly grows sympathetic.

  I nod. “How did you convince L’ren to join you in the nest so quickly?”

  “My L’ren did not need convincing at all. She welcomed me happily.”

  This is not making me feel better. I rub my brow. “So I am the problem.”

  “Your female is very stubborn. L’ren is many things, but she is not half as stubborn as your H’nah.” He thinks for a moment, scratching at Fat One inside the pocket of his tunic. “Have you tried convincing her?”

  “Convincing her?” I shake my head, incredulous. “She barely even looks at me. How am I supposed to have a conversation with her?”

  “I said convince her, not have a conversation with her.”

  “You mean…convince her with my cock?” I frown into the fire. “If words will not sway her, I do not know how exposing myself to her will. You know the human females are skittish about seeing such things.”

  K’thar snorts with laughter. “That is not what I meant. If she were a Strong Arm female, I would say you should track and kill something dangerous to show her what a fierce hunter you are. Shower her with meat. But she is human, and they think differently.”

  He is not wrong. I cannot figure out how H’nah thinks at all. “What does L’ren say of the situation?”

  “She thinks you should leave H’nah alone. Stop chasing her and let her come to you. She will, eventually, but it must feel like her idea.”

  I do not know if I agree with this, but I merely grunt acknowledgement of his words. Leave her alone
? Easier to ask me to fly through the air. I get to my feet. “I should see if N’dek needs anything.”

  K’thar looks at me. “Let him be.”

  His words make my heart heavy. “You know I cannot.”

  “We all suffer because he hurts, J’shel. He is as a brother to me as well.” He scratches at the flyer, and I can hear it make a happy chirp, buried in K’thar’s tunic. “But this is something he must figure out on his own. If you hover over him, you do not help him.”

  Leave him alone? When all of this is my fault? I shake my head. “I will be there for him now because I was not when I should have been.”

  K’thar rolls his eyes.

  I turn and leave. He does not understand. The weight of N’dek’s injury—his very life—does not weigh on his spirit like it does mine. He will never understand.

  3

  HANNAH

  “Does she have to do this for every dead thing that washes up on the beach?” Flordeliza asks in a low voice, leaning in toward Sam.

  “Fuck if I know.” Sam watches Devi, her lip curled slightly as the other woman picks at the thing in the sand. “You tell her to stop.”

  “But then I have to look at what she’s dissecting,” Flor says with a shudder. She reaches out to me. “You go tell her, Hannah.”

  I glance over at the other women that I’m standing near, incredulous. “Me? Why me?”

  “Just do it,” Flor hisses at me.

  I don’t. In fact, I don’t move from my spot on the beach. I thought it would be safe to stand here with Sam and Flordeliza, staring out at the cold, icy waves of water as they roll in, but it’s hard to lose yourself in the serenity of your environment when the women near you keep gossiping.