Ice Planet Holiday (Ice Planet Barbarians #5)

by Ruby Dixon



I wake up to the drag of a ridged tongue along my ear. Vektal’s hand carefully cups one of my breasts, large and tender with pregnancy.

“Mmm,” I sigh, snuggling deeper under the furs with him. It’s good to be the chief’s mate, it really is. Every morning, I get woken up to a licking or nibbling of some kind. Today it’s my ear. Yesterday it was my pussy. All of it is equally sinfully delicious and makes a girl look forward to her day.

I don’t even mind the whole ‘ice planet’ thing and the ‘having to wear fur and leather’ thing if it gets me a sexy beast like Vektal.

I roll over and slide into his arms, nuzzling against his throat. My big, pregnant belly gets in the way of things, but Vektal’s large enough that he can still envelop me against him. “Is it morning already?” I ask, sleepy.

“It is.” He nips at my jaw. “Is my mate hungry for food? Or for her male?”

“Little from column A, little from column B?” I reach up and smooth my hand along one of the horns jutting from his forehead and curling back against his hair. He gets wild when I stroke his horns. Maybe it’s the mental image that does it for him; I’ve never asked how much feeling he has there because I don’t have horns. I’m as human as can be.

Sometimes I’m still amazed we ended up together, seeing as how we both are from different corners of the universe, and we’re both stranded, but that’s a story for another day. Right now I just want my man. Vektal’s hand smooths down my hip, and he pulls me against his cock, letting me know that he’s been awake for several minutes, thinking about sex.

I can’t blame him - I tend to think about sex more than I probably should. It’s hard not to when your mate is so good at it.

It’s at least an hour later when my mate and I emerge from our cave. I smooth out my hair, always a little self-conscious that everyone can guess what we’ve been doing just by my expression. No one pays a bit of attention to us, though, and it’s just another ice planet morning. The sa-khui - Vektal’s people - don’t differentiate between days of the week, and they don’t have holidays. There are only two sorta-seasons here - the bitter season and the brutal season. Both have entirely too much snow. Harlow tells me she keeps a calendar because otherwise her days run together and it bothers her. It’s not a bad idea, and I’m tempted to go get the marked-bone calendar out of her empty cave and borrow it. She won’t mind; she’s currently at the ancestors’ ship.

I want to count the days. Maybe then it’ll help me deal with the fact that this damn baby isn’t in any hurry to get here.

Vektal toys with a lock of my hair and then gently tugs on it, dragging my wandering attention back to him. “You are far away in your thoughts,” he tells me. There’s a look of concern in his glowing blue eyes. “Is it the kit?”

I pat my bloated stomach. “No, he’s fine today.” As if wanting to disagree with that statement, the baby kicks me right in the girl parts, and I wince. He seems to kick me there a lot lately, and it sucks. “Just hungry.”

My mate’s face brightens. “Tell me what you want to eat and I’ll get it for you.”

I shrug. “Just whatever, babe.” It all disagrees with my pregnant stomach.

Vektal watches me, then puts his hands on my shoulders. It’s kind of like being grabbed by two baseball mitts, his hands are so big. “I worry about you, my Georgie.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” I tell him. I’m just ultra-grumpy that the baby in my stomach seems to be cemented there. It doesn’t feel like it’s moving at all, and I’m so tired of being pregnant. Pretty sure I’ve been pregnant for at least fourteen months now, because the sa-khui carry longer than humans. At this point? It’s almost like torture. I’m not one of those ‘easy’ pregnancy girls like Liz, who barely had a baby belly and had hers two weeks ago. Nope. I’m one of those ‘barf at everything and bloat like a whale’ pregnant types. The type that cries at the drop of a hat.

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