“I like my feet on the ground.”

“You mean two feet deep in snow?” I teased.

He made a face at that.

But it was nice to just sit and talk the two of us, with no expectations for more than conversation. To be open and honest with each other instead of skirting around things. We haven’t yet talked more about resonance, or babies, or if we’ll seek out the healer. There’s time for all of that. For now it’s just nice to exist and not feel like I’m doing everything completely wrong.

I lean in and blow on the fire to build the flames, and accidentally knock my fire-poking-bone with my foot. It clatters on the stone floor, and I wince and look over at Skarr again.

No response. Not even a twitch.

For some reason, that worries me. I get to my feet and creep over to his side of the hut, shivering. The floor is like ice, the air ridiculously frigid. If I were back home I’d say a blizzard came in and we’re several degrees below zero, but it’s hard to tell without thermometers. I kneel next to Skarr as he sleeps and peel the layers of covers back. He’ll be annoyed I’ve woken him, but better safe than sorry. He rests inside the cocoon of blankets, one hand palm up next to his face.

I gently brush my fingers over his hand.

He feels like ice.

“Skarr?” I whisper, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t stir. My khui is humming at his nearness, but the hum isn’t the normal, frantic one. It’s slow and measured, and Skarr’s song is so faint I can barely hear it. I reach out and tap his cheek with my cold fingertips, expecting to meet warm skin.

He’s colder than I am. There’s no warmth to his flesh.

“Skarr?” I grab him and shake him, panicking. His head falls back, lolling, and I whimper. He can’t be dead. He can’t. I can hear his khui. I push him onto his back and press my ear to his chest. He’s still wearing multiple layers of clothing under the blankets, and yet it doesn’t seem like enough. His heart is beating, but the steady thump of it is sluggish, and I’m reminded that he’s part ssethri, and they’re cold blooded. I don’t know how that mingles with warm blood, but clearly not well.

He needs warmth.

I immediately grab my furs from my side of the hut and pile them atop him, then slide under the furs. Pressing myself against his side, I wrap my arms and legs around him, trying to share my warmth. It’s like hugging a corpse, and the only thing that stops me from panicking is the slow, slow thump of his heart under my hand and the even slower song of his khui.

“Wake up,” I whisper in his ear. “Please wake up so I know you’re all right.”

Skarr continues to be limp in my grasp, and I fret that I’m not getting him enough body heat. Does he need more, or am I too late? Should I undress to share skin-to-skin warmth? After a few moments of indecision, I decide yes, I need to undress him. I roll him onto his back again and tug at his leather clothing, pulling ties open and revealing cold green skin. I manage to get his thick overwraps and tunic open, but I can’t get the clothes off his arms without flipping him again, so I abandon them for his pants.

I blush as I undo his belt and tug the pants down his legs. His groin is smooth, no sign of two cocks anywhere, and I remember how they seemed as if they sprang into my hand when I touched him. Lizards back home don’t have dangling dicks (at least not that I’m aware of) so it must be tucked inside his body somehow.

Once he’s as naked as I can get him, I toss his leathers aside and then strip mine off. I press my bare body to his, wrapping a leg at his waist and rolling our joined bodies onto the side again, with his back to the fire and his front pressed to me. This is better, I think. I hold him tight, sliding my hands underneath his open tunic and caressing his back. My khui is loving this—the purr grows louder with every breath I take, but I’m far more concerned with Skarr waking up than with fulfilling resonance.

“Skarr?” I try again when his flesh feels as if it’s warming. “Can you hear me?”

To my intense relief, his eyelids flutter, and he seems to shake himself awake. “Vivi?”

“Yes! Good! You’re here!” I tighten my arms around him, hugging him close. “I was so worried.”

“Tired,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes closing again. “Are…you naked?”

“I think the cold is affecting you.” I press myself closer to him. “Your body was like ice.”

“Bah. ’m…strong.”

“The strongest,” I agree softly. “Now go to sleep. I’ll stay here and make sure you stay warm.”

He nods and tucks his head against my neck, nuzzling his face against the curve of my throat. He breathes in deep and then sighs with contentment, drifting back to sleep.

I stay where I am, stroking my hand up and down his bare back, my legs twined with his. I should be overheated with the fire going like it is and the sheer number of blankets, but Skarr’s body seems determined to bleed away heat. We’ll have to figure something out, and I mentally debate fur-lined sleeping bags with room for two and fuzzy boots and gloves for him.

I don’t sleep for most of the night, getting up occasionally to tend to the fire and just holding Skarr close. I don’t think I’m in love with him, but he’s become a friend, and I’m not going to let anything happen to him. The wind tears at the hut, whistling through a few chinks in the walls, and I’m grateful to be inside with Skarr. I can’t imagine how he would have handled being in the cave. I don’t think he would have liked waking up to cuddling with Kyth or Valmir or Chalath. Jason, maybe.

The thought makes me giggle.

The wind stops howling, replaced by a soft quiet that reminds me of snow. I bet if I look outside, I’ll see a white blanket of snow covering everything except the slushy waves of the sea. Skarr sleeps heavily, his face nuzzled against my neck and then later sliding to rest against my breasts as he burrows deeper into the blankets. Definitely a sleeping bag of some kind, I decide, my mind drowsy.

Maybe one with sleeves for him…

And mittens…

I wake up to the sound of a low groan and lips brushing over the curve of my breast. A whimper of pleasure escapes my throat and I dig my fingers into Skarr’s soft hair. “You’re awake?”

“I’m angrier that I slept through this,” he breathes against my skin. “Your teats are magnificent. Have I slept against them all night?”

“Mmmm…more or less.” His mouth feels good against my skin, and I rub my fingers against his scalp, not wanting to ruin this drowsy, delicious moment. “You were too cold.”

“Warm now.” His tongue slithers over the tip of my breast. “So warm now. Can I touch you?”

It occurs to me that he already is, that asking for permission at this point is like asking to let the horse out of the barn once it’s already in the pasture. But it feels good to press against him, and his mouth against my skin feels even better, so I make a sound of assent and steer his head toward my breast.

Skarr groans, capturing my nipple in his mouth and sucking on the tight bud of it. His hands roam over my back, pulling me tighter against him as he teases my breast. He sucks on the tip until it’s hard and aching, and then teases his long, slender tongue against it. I’m not certain, but I think the very tip of his tongue is forked, and the idea of what a forked tongue will feel like sends an erotic curl of heat straight to my groin.

Something hot and protruding bumps against my backside, followed by another bump.

“Ignore that,” Skarr murmurs against my breast, his teeth lightly scoring the curve.

“Wh-what is it?”

“I extruded,” he says, and then turns his head to toy with my other breast.

My breath hitches as he nips the tip and then soothes it with flicks of his tongue. I rock my hips against him, and sure enough, I can feel the thick heat of his cocks pressing against my backside. Now that the shock of it has gone away, I’m curious what two cocks will look like…and more importantly, what they’ll feel like. So I slide down against him, circling my hips and trying to drag against the parts he just told me to ignore.