“So even if we could leave for the sea cave tomorrow…？”
He shrugs. “I would choose to stay here. They are not bad people. They are just people. And they are willing to go to any length to help each other, because they are family. Even if they do not share blood, they are family. I like that.” He pauses, and then gazes at me. “We will stay. Our son will need friends. You will need the healer. And I,” he says, grazing his thumb over my mouth. “Will always need you. A male cannot exist apart from his heart.”
Neither can a woman, and it’s clear that Rukh has mine. I lean down and kiss my mate again, determined to enjoy every moment of this time alone.
Author’s Note
Thanks for reading my Barbarians! It’s such a joy to write these books and I love the reception they’re getting. Here I thought I’d be the only one interested in ice barbarians. I’m happy to see that I’m not! As always, I’d love for you to leave a review and let me know what you think and what characters you’re interested in seeing more of. Sometimes your suggestions spark inspiration in the author, so keep ‘em coming.
I hope you enjoyed Harlow and Rukh’s story and the glimpses of the others in the tribe. The next full length book will either be Tiffany or Josie. I’m still deciding between them. The book will most likely be out in Spring. I’ll announce it when it’s close to done.
To follow along with progress reports, see teasers of the work in progress, or just to check in and say hi, be sure to friend me on my Facebook page. Also, you can join my mailing list to receive a notice when the next book is out.
Thank you so much for being such enthusiastic fans of the books.
Ice Planet Barbarians
Ice Planet Barbarians, Book 1
You’d think being abducted by aliens would be the worst thing that could happen to me. And you’d be wrong. Because now, the aliens are having ship trouble, and they’ve left their cargo of human women – including me – on an ice planet.
And the only native inhabitant I’ve met? He’s big, horned, blue, and really, really has a thing for me…
Part One
GEORGIE
Up until yesterday, I, Georgie Carruthers, never believed in aliens. Oh, sure, there were all kinds of possibilities out there in the universe, but if someone would have told me that little green men were hanging around Earth in flying saucers, just waiting to abduct people? I would have told them they were crazy.
But that was yesterday.
Today? Today’s a very different sort of story.
I suppose it all started last night. It was pretty ordinary, overall. I came home after a long day of working the drive-thru teller window at the bank, nuked a Lean Cuisine, ate it while watching TV, and dozed off on the couch before stumbling to bed. Not exactly the life of the party, but hey. It was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays were all work, no play. I went to sleep, and from there, shit got weird.
My dreams were messed up. Not the usual losing teeth or naked in front of the class dreams. These were far more sinister. Dreams of loss and abandonment. Dreams of pain and cold white rooms. Dreams of walking in a tunnel and seeing an oncoming train. In that dream, I tried to lift my hand to shield me from the light.
Except when I went to raise my hand, I couldn’t.
That had woken me up from my slumber. I squinted into the tiny light someone was shining in my eyes. Someone was . . . shining something in my eyes? I blinked, trying to focus, and realized that I wasn’t dreaming at all. I wasn’t home, either. I was . . . somewhere new.
Then the light clicked off and a bird chirped. I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and I found myself surrounded by . . . things. Things with long black eyes and big heads and skinny pale arms. Little green men.
I’d screamed. I’d screamed bloody murder, actually.
One of the aliens tilted its head at me, and the bird chirping sound happened again, even though his mouth didn’t move. Something hot and dry wrapped over my mouth, choking me, and a noxious scent filled my nostrils. Oh shit. Was I going to die? Frantically, I worked my jaw, trying to breathe even as the world got dark around me.
Then, I went back to sleep, dreaming of work. I always dreamed of work when I was stressed. For hours on end, angry banking clients yelled at me as I kept trying to tear open packs of twenties that wouldn’t seem to come open. I’d try to count out change only to get distracted. Work dreams are the worst, usually, but this one was a relief. No trains. No aliens. Just banking. I could deal with banking.
And that brings me to . . . here.
I’m awake. Awake and not entirely sure where I am. My eyes slide open, and I gaze around me. It smells like I’m in a sewer, I can feel a wall behind me, and my body hurts all freaking over. My head feels blurry and slow, like all of me hasn’t quite woken up yet. My limbs feel heavy. Drugged, I realize. Someone’s drugged me.