Flor’s Fiasco – Icehome Read Online Ruby Dixon

Categories Genre: Alien, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
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A woman touches her ear, worried. “When did that happen?”

Before I can answer, someone storms up to the fire and holds something out. It’s one of the alien men, the one that looks most like a cat. In his hand is a snarling, squalling quill-beast that’s thrashing and doing its best to get free of his grip. It bites his hand and there are quills up his arm, sticking out of his skin, but he looks over at me calmly. “We need these alive to gut them, yes?”

Another woman squeals in horror, and someone else ducks underneath the blankets.

Oh boy. I study the big guy and then the group giving him horrified looks. Do I wait for I’rec to come back and break the news to everyone that they need a khui or do I try to pep talk it as best I can? “As long as the khui inside it is strong and still alive, I’m sure we can use it,” I say, deciding to go with a cheerful demeanor. “Okay, guys. Everyone pay attention. So you’ve noticed my blue eyes, right?” I point at the corner of my eye. “That’s because everyone on this world needs a khui to help you survive. You—”

As I speak, the male alien brings the quill-beast up to his face and as I watch, bites the head off of it and spits it aside. Blood erupts and the women shriek in horror. He turns to me, blood running down his cat-chin and holds the limp body out. “Show me where the parasite is.”

“Parasite?” someone squeals.

“It’s a…friendly parasite,” I chirp, my smile frozen on my face. I really, really need I’rec to return soon. I don’t want to be in charge. I would much rather be the sassy sidekick who just juggles the balls of the man in charge and makes him feel like a stud.

So yeah, I’rec needs to return ASAP.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

I’REC

By the time A’tar drops us back at the human camp, there is a light snow drifting from the sky and my arms are laden with supplies. The scaly male that accompanied me is not all that useful—he has been slowing down and seems to be in pain. If I ask about it, he snarls at me, so I ignore him and the fact that he does not carry much back. We have enough for now, at least. I have enough animal pelts with me to stitch together a few sleeping tents, and extra foodstuffs.

The dragon does not stay. He drops us gently upon the ground and noses me toward my mate. As if I need encouragement. She is all that I look at, her form so pleasing to the eye that I want to kick myself for not noticing her before resonance. Truly I am a fool. I stagger forward with my burdens even as A’tar flies off, returning to his hunt for T’ia and R’jaal. Somewhere behind me, the scaly male—S’karr—struggles with his packs. I pause to set mine down—

—and F’lor flies into my arms, clinging to my neck. She showers my face with kisses, knocking the furs and foodstuffs out of my grip. Surprised—and pleased—at her warm reception, I kiss her back, and she locks her legs around me. “So glad…you’re back…” she tells me between kisses. “You be in charge. I hate it.”

I heft her in my arms, loving the feel of her pressed against me. My hand slides to her bottom and I tuck her against my side, since she seems inclined to remain hugging my front like a baby nightflyer does to its mother. And…I like it. I like that she needs me in this instance, because F’lor never truly needs me. It feels good to be wanted.

“I’m botching everything,” she whispers. “The cat guy bit the head off of a quill-beast and dismembered it to get the khui inside and the girls freaked out and I’m just making things worse.” She rubs her nose against mine. “Please take charge? Please? I’ll make it up to you.”

I chuckle, resisting the urge to wrap my tail around her waist and never let her go. “I will handle it.” I rub her nose back, not minding that hers is colder than mine. “Will you look at S’karr? He is struggling. He might be sick.”

She peers over my shoulder—or tries to. “Is he the scaly one? I wonder if he’s cold-blooded. That might be why. But yes, I’ll take care of him, you take care of the khui situation, and I’ll make it up to you later.” F’lor gives me a mischievous look and then licks my chin fur. “I’ll let you tap my ass as much as you want.”

“I am less interested in tapping it than I am in mating,” I say, though I obligingly “tap” her ass with my tail. If it is something she wants, I will happily give it to her.


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