Barbarians Treasure: A SciFi Alien Romance Novel Read online

  She gestures at her belly. “Like I’m going anywhere?”

  She’s got a point.

  2

  EIGHT YEARS AGO

  MEGAN

  The stack of baskets in my arms wobbles precariously. I chew on my lip, studying how I can possibly carry so much weight in my arms. Josie grabbed the furs, and is trotting the entire unwieldy pile from the storage area over to Hemalo’s cave, just as requested. Me, I got stuck with the dye roots, and while it looked like an easy task, I’m quickly realizing I don’t have enough hands to carry all of this. My face burns and I fight a ripple of anxiety. Everyone’s watching us work, which makes me feel as if I’m on a stage and I’m being judged. Humans are thought of as puny and overly weak, and I’m constantly worried that those of us that aren’t pulling our weight are going to be culled from the tribe. That I’m going to somehow be seen as lacking and driven back out into the snow.

  No one’s said anything like that at all, but I can’t help but think it.

  After all, we’re strangers here. It doesn’t matter that we’ve been here for weeks now, or that Georgie mated with their chief. It doesn’t matter that Liz, Nora, Stacy, Ariana and Marlene all resonated immediately and were welcomed into the tribe. The sa-khui people are super nice but their tribe was dying out.

  It’s very obvious that we’re wanted for the fact that we’re female and we can have babies.

  And it feels like a ticking time bomb over the heads of those of us that haven’t resonated. It feels painfully obvious in so many ways. So some of us—Josie and myself in particular—do our best to be helpful. We volunteer for shitty chores, work long hours on scraping furs and helping with food, and we never say “no” to anything that’s asked of us.

  We’re guests here. As long as we’re not mated to anyone, that’s all we are. Guests.

  A guest can quickly overstay their welcome. I think about that all the time, and it makes me fling the baskets of roots on top of one another quickly, determined to carry them all. I know Farli could absolutely carry them, and she’s just a kid. I don’t want to be seen as more worthless than a child, so I need to suck it up.

  I pick up the stack of baskets, and they immediately slide out of my arms and tumble to the ground, scattering their contents.

  The cave goes silent, and it feels like everyone is staring at me.

  Hot tears prick at the backs of my eyes and I freeze in place. Oh god. I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up I’ve fucked up I’ve fucked up and I can see all the roots mixing with each other and they’re on the floor and someone’s going to get mad and yell at me and—

  “Here. Let me help with that.” The voice is thickly accented, but kind, and one of the alien men crouches next to the mess I’ve made at the entrance to the storage cave. He picks up the roots with quick, easy motions, as if this is no big deal.

  I look around the cave, and no one’s looking in our direction anymore. No one’s yelling. No one’s mad.

  My body shuddering, I drop to a crouch and start to scoop up roots, as well. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I just…”

  “You have puny arms. I know.” The alien man chuckles.

  I stop, staring at him in shock.

  He glances up at me, a teasing sparkle in his strange, glowing blue eyes. The grin on his face is lighthearted and it’s clear he’s just playing around. I let out a tense breath and relax, just a little. “What, you mean this isn’t how you dye the cave floor?”

  “It’s not,” he agrees, grinning. His teeth are bright white, his smile ready. “Besides, if you mix all these colors together, it does not come out like a rainbow.”

  “Oh no?”

  “It comes out the color of dung,” he says, tossing them haphazardly into baskets, regardless of where they go. “When I was a kit, I wanted to dye my insides. You can guess the results.”

  I chuckle at that. “A raging case of food poisoning?”

  “That, and the most disappointing dye project ever.” He makes a sad face and I can’t help but giggle again. His smile grows. “You are Meh-gan, yes?”

  I nod, feeling frozen once more. He’s flirting with me, and normally I’d flirt back and tease. But relationships are different here. There aren’t casual hookups. There aren’t bars to hit on strangers or dance floors to dance your cares away in the arms of a one-night stand. There’s just a cave that we all live in and a cootie that makes all the decisions, and so I feel like I can’t flirt with this man. I just can’t.

  But he’s being so nice.

  “It’s actually pronounced Meh-gan,” I correct, emphasizing the hard “g” in the middle that no one ever gets right. Then I immediately feel like an asshole, because why am I correcting him? He learned my language. I’m just the stinking guest. He belongs here. I don’t. I’m horrified at my own rudeness, and his expectant look just makes me feel worse. “Um, wh-what did you say your name was again?”

  Is that a flicker of disappointment on his face? “I am Cashol.”

  I feel like such an ass. “Cashol,” I repeat, even though I’m sure he’s told me his name at least twice. “It’s…a lot to learn. I’m sorry. I’m bad with names.”

  “You only need to learn mine,” he says confidently.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but I smile at him as he takes the baskets in his arms, as if it was his choice to help me all along. I don’t mind the flirting if he helps me not look so pathetic in front of the rest of the tribe. I steal a few glances at him as he helps me stack a few of the baskets into my arms properly, and I assess his looks. He’s not the best looking of the barbarians. In fact…he might be the ugliest? Which is unfair, because they’re all ridiculously attractive by human standards. They all have fantastic bone structure and strong features, but Cashol also has a big nose that dominates his long face, and a slightly goofy smile that always seems to crease his cheeks. He’s appealing, yes, but he’s not handsome. His black hair is thick and full, but it’s tied back in a messy braid, as if he doesn’t give a shit about what he looks like.

  He’s not my type, I decide. Even if I wanted to flirt, I usually go for pretty men. Somber men. Intense men. Poets and musicians and emo boys who feel the world has failed them. I’m drawn to the drama. But Cashol is nice, and friendly, so I smile at him and thank him for his help.

  “If you need anything else, let me know,” he says, lingering after he deposits the baskets. Josie’s busy leaning over Hemalo’s shoulder, trying to learn, so she doesn’t notice that Cashol is still here and flirting with me in that awkward, sa-khui way. “I can lift things all day and spare those puny arms.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “Did you ever think that maybe telling me I have puny arms won’t get you very far?”

  He grins, looking like an utter devil. “No.”

  I snort with amusement despite myself. His teasing is a nice respite from the constant feeling of uncertainty that’s been accompanying me lately.

  Cashol keeps standing there, and he rubs his chest. Immediately, my good humor vanishes. Of course he’s hoping for resonance, hoping that his khui will light up and start purring now that I’m standing next to him. Inwardly, I cringe even as I keep smiling. Because just that little movement is enough to remind me that I’m valued for my womb above everything else. It’s not about Megan. It’s about Megan’s ability to carry a baby. My safety here depends on me being fertile, and it’s utterly terrifying and hurts at the same time.

  Back on Earth, I was pregnant. Newly discovered, and newly excited. Sure, I’d be a single mom, but I’d take this on with enthusiasm and I’d love the hell out of my baby so much that it wouldn’t matter that there was no dad in the picture. But then the aliens kidnapped me and decided that I’d be more valuable without an occupied womb, and they got rid of my baby like it was nothing.

  I still feel as if I’m processing that grief, even as I worry if I’ll be able to carry another. I haven’t resonated. What if…what if something’s wrong with me? What if I never res
onate?

  Will they still take care of me, these aliens? Will they still share their food and blankets? Look at me with smiles? Or will I be a problem? A burden?

  I need answers.

  3

  CASHOL

  I made her smile. Laugh.

  I consider this a good thing. All of the human females that have joined our tribe carry sadness in their eyes, but this one in particular intrigues me. She holds herself apart from the others, and for me, it is a challenge to get her to look at me. To smile. She did not know my name when I spoke to her, and that stings a little, but I do not let it keep me down. She knows my name now, and that is all that is important.

  I have a jaunty roll in my step as I saunter through the cave.

  “You are in a good mood,” my friend Haeden comments as I pass by. He sharpens the head of his spear absently, running a sharp rock against the bone edge. “Should I ask why?”

  I cross my arms and lean against a nearby wall, even as Vektal approaches and sits with us. “I am in a good mood because I spoke with Meh-gan. I made her smile.”

  “Is she the noisy one?”

  “She is the yellow-haired one that is friends with the noisy one.”

  Haeden grunts, annoyance flashing over his face. He does not like the noisy one. He thinks she talks far too much. Perhaps she does, but hearing so much happy female chatter is not a bad thing. The caves have been quiet for far too long. Now they are bursting with life, and I am glad for it.

  Vektal listens in, saying nothing.

  I nod at my chief. “We are allowed to pleasure-mate with the human females, yes? If they are agreeable to it?”

  “She has said she wishes to join you in your furs?” Vektal looks surprised.

  “No. But I can be convincing.” I grin at him. “I like her. I like making her smile.” I never thought I would have the opportunity to have a mate of my own. It always seemed a foregone conclusion that if there were any females my age, they would veer toward other members of the tribe, the handsomest ones, or Vektal, who is now the chief. I am just a hunter with an unremarkable face and a good sense of humor. But now that the humans have arrived…there is all kinds of possibility ahead of us.

  It is hard not to get attached. To want a female for myself. I am already addicted to Meh-gan’s smiles, her laughter. I think about her at night. I think about her when I stroke my cock in private, wondering if someday someone else will do this for me or if I will be forever using my hand.

  Not that my hand is not good.

  But Meh-gan’s hand would be better.

  Vektal gets to his feet, a troubled expression on his face. “Come walk with me, Cashol. I would have a word.” He walks off, heading for the main cave entrance.

  I exchange a troubled look with Haeden, who is equally surprised. I shrug and head after my chief, curious.

  I find Vektal pacing out in the snow, his arms crossed over his chest, tail twitching. He has a grim look on his face, and for a moment, my heart stutters. It feels as if he is going to tell me to pick another female, because Meh-gan has already resonated to another…or that he wants her for himself.

  But…my chief is happy with his mate Shorshie, is he not? And when I left Meh-gan’s side she was not resonating. So it cannot be that. Even so, I do not like the look on his face. “What troubles you, cousin?”

  “I just wish to give you a word of warning in private.”

  “A word of warning, eh?” I keep a smile on my face even as I step next to my pacing chief. “You are going to tell me not to overwhelm her with my charm?”

  Vektal snorts. “I am going to tell you that I do not mind if you court a female, but that particular one, you must go slow. Let her set the pace.”

  As if I would not? While I can sometimes have the “subtlety of a smoking mountain” as my father Holvek used to say, I would not push Meh-gan into my furs if she had no wish to be there. “Of course not.”

  “She looks healthy and happy, but she is still healing here.” Vektal taps his brow. “Shorshie has told me she endured many bad things when they were held captive by the others. Meh-gan suffered the loss of a kit she carried.”

  I am stunned. My heart feels as if it has stopped in my chest. “You mean…she already has a mate? A human mate?”

  He shakes his head. “From what Georgie has told me, it is different with humans. They do not require resonance to have a kit. Meh-gan had no mate, and her kit was the result of a pleasure-mating. The bad ones stole it from her, and she carries sadness in her heart.” He touches my shoulder. “If anyone can ease a sad heart, it is you, cousin, but you must remember that she is fragile. You must go slow with her.”

  This has given me much to consider. I nod, thoughtful. It has changed nothing about how I feel about Meh-gan. If anything, I am more determined now to be the reason why she smiles each day. But my approach must change. I must be clever, and patient…two things I am not very good at.

  I sigh. “I thank you, Vektal. I will remember this and take your advice.”

  My chief nods and claps my shoulder once more. “I do not mean to discourage you.”

  “Oh, I am not discouraged.” I grin at him. “I do not think a herd of screaming metlaks could discourage me. But you have given me much to think about.”

  Many, many things to think about.

  4

  MEGAN

  I visit the healer later that day, absolutely positive that she’s going to give me bad news. That there’s something wrong with my body now, and that I can’t carry a baby. That the aliens that got rid of my last one did something to me and that’s why I haven’t resonated. I brace myself for terrible news, but all I get are gentle smiles and reassuring pats. Maylak doesn’t speak English, but even with our limited communication, her answer is obvious.

  I’m fine. It just hasn’t happened yet.

  Which is a relief. I leave the healer’s cave feeling better about things…and yet, still worried. I won’t relax until I resonate. Until I’m completely secure in my place here. I’m grateful I’m no longer a slave and that I’m “free” here on the ice planet, but at the same time, if these people get tired of me, there’s nowhere else to go. So I smile and do more than my fair share of chores. I stay busy at all times, keeping a macramé project in my hands so I always look as if I’m dutifully hard at work.

  Who would have thought when I learned how to macramé back in Girl Scouts that I’d end up finding it so damn useful? Yet here I am, macramé-ing as if my life depended on it. Heck, it just might.

  The day after I visit the healer, I’m sitting in the “bachelorette” cave with Josie and the others, working on my latest project, when Cashol wanders in, an enormous dead animal slung over his shoulders.

  “Did someone ask for fresh dvisti?” he calls out, grinning in my direction.

  “That’s definitely fresh,” I admit, since he seems to be looking at me for a response. What, does he want a pat on the back for hunting? I offer him a faint smile. “Thank you, I think?”

  “The chief said I should bring this here to your cave.” He tosses the enormous, dead thing down onto the floor with a whump. “So you can have fresh meat and skins.”

  Josie looks at me, and I can see panic on her face. I’m feeling a hint of panic, too. We’ve helped out with chores before, but this is the first time we’ve had to process a kill on our own from start to finish. “You shouldn’t have,” I say, putting the belt I’m weaving aside and getting to my feet. “Really.”

  Cashol is undeterred by my tepid response. “You do not look happy. Is this not a fine kill? Look at these flanks.” He slaps the thing’s backside. “So much meat. This will keep you busy for days, yes?”

  Josie looks like she’s ready to cry. She picks up a skinning knife and then stares at it, and I know how she feels. That small knife made entirely of bone and rock seems wholly inadequate for the task at hand…yet the sa-khui do it all the time, without complaint. It can be done. It just feels like a lot.

&nbsp
; I feel a bubble of panic rising in my chest and shove a lock of hair behind my ear. “Um….” I wring my hands thinking. “Thank…you?”

  As if Cashol can sense my hesitation, his blowhard expression softens and he glances at Josie, then at me. He gets to his feet, one of those goofy smiles curving his mouth as he leans in toward me. “May I ask a favor?”

  Oh god, what now? There’s more? Is he going to dump this dead animal’s friend on our doorstep, too? But politeness makes me answer. “Sure?”

  “Will you females allow me to show off my prowess for a bit?” He pulls a knife from his belt and postures, and I get a mental image of dudes flexing to impress the ladies, barbarian style. “I would love to show you my skills at skinning and processing a kill.”

  And he flexes again.

  A surge of relief courses through me at the understanding look in Cashol’s warm eyes. He knows we’re intimidated and he’s being a dork deliberately to make us smile. And he’s going to help out. I’m filled with such a rush of gratitude that my heart flutters in my chest. I smile warmly at him.

  Then, my heart flutters again.

  It jumps in my chest so hard that I immediately go still, clutching at my chest. What the—

  It does it again, and then I hear it. Purring. Not gentle or sweet or hesitant, but loud and violent and demanding. My cootie is awake, and it’s resonating.

  I push my hand into my tunic, press my palm against my skin. There’s no mistaking it—my cootie is on fire. And when I look up, Cashol is staring at me with a dazed expression, his hand on his chest, too.

  So.

  This is my mate.

  I’m stunned with the realization. This alien man right here is my partner, my mate, my forever. I’m both relieved and utterly terrified.

  This is what I wanted, right? This is my safety net. This is my ticket to getting to stay with the tribe forever.