Page 50 of Caveman Alien's Heat
He stops a few steps away from me. Up close, the details speak of great deeds: the blood on his hands, drying along his fingers; the faint rise and fall of his chest under the furs; the smell of cold air, leather, and something metallic.
“You came back,” I say. It comes out steadier than I expected.
“That was the plan,” he replies. “We all came back, and that’s how it should always be.” He’s clearly saying it for the benefit of those around us, still aware of his purpose in going on the hunt. His voice is calm, but there is something under it, something that feels like it is meant just for me.
For a second, I think he is going to pull me in. My body is already bracing for it, leaning into the idea before it even happens.
But then I realize it would be out of character for what Nator’ax is doing. This isn’t over; we’re not done. He has to remain calmand steady, a man of the tribe, not the only man with a woman to hug.
Instead, his hand brushes mine. It’s a brief touch, almost accidental, but not quite. And it’s enough. Heat flashes up my arm, sudden and intense, going down my body. Hmm.
Behind him, one of the hunters grins broadly.
“You should have seen your tribesman,” he says to me, clearly not bothered by addressing me directly. “The beast charged, and he stood there like he wanted it to try. Then he moved, and it fell like it had no legs at all.”
Another man, older, nods in agreement. “It was a good hunt. A clean hunt.”
My eyes flick back to Nator’ax. “You did that?”
He shrugs, but there is a hint of satisfaction in the movement. “Sometimes the old ways are the best. Sometimes we can try something new.”
“And sometimes the tribe needs a stranger to show how things can be done,” the scarred man says dryly, stepping forward. His gaze lands on me, assessing, but not as openly unsettling as some of the others. “Warrior Nator’ax changed this hunt for the better. We will use that method again, I think.”
“Then that’s good,” I say, forcing a small smile. “That means you’ll want him around.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
There is a brief pause. The scarred man’s expression doesn’t change much, but he looks away. “It’s a rare man who can lead a hunt and come back with a whole dondar and nobody injured.”
Good. They’re starting to see him as indispensable.
“Come,” the scarred man says to the others. “We’ll prepare the meat for storage.”
The group begins to break apart, attention shifting to the massive carcass and the work that needs to be done. For a moment, the noise and movement swell around us, and we are almost lost in it.
Nator’ax leans closer. “How was the village while I was gone?”
“Peaceful and quiet.” Then, because it feels important, because I need him to understand, I add, “But I didn’t like the way some of them looked at me.”
His jaw tightens. “I have noticed. I hope it won’t continue.” There is something in his voice that sends another, entirely different kind of heat through me. Something protective, and yet dangerous.
Maybe it should scare me, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes everything worse in the best possible way.
“I am glad you went on the hunt,” I say, even though part of me wants to say the opposite. “This helped.”
“It may buy us time,” he agrees. “Or more. We shall see.”
Right now, with him standing here, alive and solid and very, very real, I can almost pretend that time might be enough.
“Then we use it,” I say. His eyes hold mine for a second longer than necessary.
“Oh, we’ll use it,” he says with a spark in his eyes. “We’ll use it very well.”
Someone calls his name. He straightens, stepping back into the role he’s been playing since he left this morning. He’s the capable outsider, the valuable hunter, the man they are starting to respect, the man they should start to find vital to their tribe.
I watch him go, my gaze following the movement of his shoulders, the way the furs shift with each step, and the easy strength in everything he does.
My body reacts again, immediate and undeniable.
This is ridiculous. We are in a freezing village surrounded by people who might decide to kill us at any moment, and all I can think about is dragging him back into that cave and?—
