Alaskan Fire (32 page)

“You could ask for it back,”
Blaze said softly.  “Tell him what happened.”

“And have a fey admit a
mistake?”  Jack gave a disgusted snort.  “They’d rather pluck off their own
damn wings.”  He yanked his gloves off of the seat and, scowling at her, said,
“Let’s get back inside.  The bugs are pissing me off.”

Then, without another word, he
strode back towards the lodge, yanked the door open, then slammed it behind
him, leaving Blaze to get up on her own.

Asshole,
Blaze thought,
getting to her feet.  Then she saw the sword’s empty sheath, still lying
against the 4-wheeler front tire, and felt another wash of guilt.  It had been
a treasure of his, something he’d bled for, something he’d created with his own
hands, and she’d lost it for him. 

Swallowing, she followed him back
to the lodge.

When she stepped inside, Jack was
already in his room, the door shut.

“Jack?” she said, tapping lightly
on his door.

“Not right now, sugar,” Jack
growled.  “Just go to sleep.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m sorry about your sword,”
Blaze said softly.

She got no response.

Feeling like shit, Blaze went to
her room and closed the door.  She picked up her journal, tried to describe
what had happened that day, then tossed it aside in disgust.  What had
possessed her to try to tear off Jack’s clothes?  Or pick up the sword?  She’d
never been trained in swordsmanship, and she should have known that this wasn’t
a ren-faire, and anybody swinging a sword out here
would
be trained.

Suddenly, all the confidence that
two weeks of learning construction had instilled in her seemed to vanish with
that simple thought.  As much as she learned how to start a generator, run a
bulldozer, or pound a nail, she still wasn’t going to fit in.  She’d thought
that living out in the Alaskan Bush would mean a couple years of learning the
equipment and easing into the rhythm of the seasons.  She had never considered
that she would have to forever depend upon a short, cranky wereverine to keep
her alive.

The more she thought about it,
the more a greenhouse outside Wasilla was sounding like the better alternative.

Then she thought about the fun
she had had building a barn with Jack, and remembered the glorious feel of his rock-hard
body in that long, passionate kiss, and she felt a welling of despair at the
thought that she had ruined it all.

First time a real man takes an
interest and Bigfoot assaults him and gives away his most valued possession,
Blaze thought, disgusted.  In ten years, she’d never had anyone so incredibly
sexy so much as look at her.  She had been forced to settle for roleplaying
nerds who wanted to see what it was like to bed an Amazon.  They had wanted to
be pinned to the bed and taken.  They had expected her to take charge, leaving
their smaller, weaker bodies to be used as some strange scenario played through
their twisted heads.  She had seen it in their eyes—a kind of dreamy, distant
look—as she had held them down and ravished them.  Yet Jack had so
overwhelmingly
taken
her with his kiss that she was just glad she wasn’t
fertile—if she had been, it probably would have made her freakin’ ovulate. 

Back in Anchorage, thinking about
the number of single men in the Bush, Blaze had optimistically opted to renew
her Implanon—three years of hormone-stimulated birth control.  It had been a
nerve-wracking procedure, utilizing a needle approximately the size of a roofing
nail, but she had endured it, powered by the hope that maybe some hunk in the
Bush might see the Yeti and not run away screaming.

 And now that she had found one
who didn’t, she’d ruined it.  Utter and completely ruined it.  She doubted he
would even want to talk to her again, so thoroughly had she screwed the pooch
today.

Blaze got in bed dreading the
repercussions in the morning, wondering if she would ever feel him wrap his
arms around her again, have his rippling body holding her tight, to be ravished
by his kiss.

It doesn’t matter,
she
told herself, miserable. 
There’s more to life than good sex.

She knew that, but it didn’t
help.  After so many years of feeling awkward and different, the girl that none
of the guys in the bar wanted to approach, the one who was stuck on the
sidelines at every dance, something deep and carnal just wanted a man to treat
her like a normal woman.  After a lifetime of fantasizing about her perfect kiss,
only to have Jack blow it completely out of the water, taking her so thoroughly
it left her panting and breathless, Blaze knew she had been forever spoiled to
the geeky computer nerds—the only ones who had ever even looked in her
direction before this.

And you fucked it up royally. 
You fucking
assaulted
him.

Remembering the uncomfortable way
he tried to slide away from her, the way he’d avoided her afterwards, Blaze was
struggling not to cry as she finally fell asleep.

Blaze woke to the smell of fried
eggs and bacon, and to the sound of someone in the room with her.  Squinting,
she started to sit up.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jack laughed,
quickly tugging the platter off of her chest.  He held it while she sat up,
blinking at him.

He doesn’t
look
angry,
she thought, peering up at his face.

Jack set the platter down on her
lap, then sat back down in the chair he’d once again dragged in from outside.

Blaze peered at the doorknob. 
She was pretty sure she had locked it.

“Honey,” Jack said, when she
asked, “You’re dealing with a blacksmith.”  He winked and went back to his
food. 

Blaze looked down at the platter
of eggs and bacon, with two buttered pieces of toast on the side, then
tentatively picked up a fork, feeling a bit like she’d woken up in the Twilight
Zone.  She stared at her food, almost afraid to eat.

Jack’s eyes flickered to her
plate and he cursed.  “Shit.  Forgot salt and pepper.”  He got up and ducked
from the room.  Strapped to his back was an ebony longsword.

When he returned with the two
shakers, Blaze took them with a frown, her eyes on the leather straps across
his shoulders.  “Did the fey give it back, then?”

Jack snorted.  “No, this is my
other one.  Half a thighbone for one, half a thighbone for the other.  Just
enough left over for a dagger hilt.”  He sighed, poking at his eggs with a
fork.  “No, I’m pretty sure the little bastard’s already through the tween zone
to go sell it to some fey warlord for a few centuries of breeding privileges.” 
He scraped up the eggs and stuck them in his mouth, chewing violently.

“I’m sorry,” Blaze said again,
heartfelt.

“You didn’t know,” Jack said,
shrugging.  “And I hadn’t told you, so it’s just as much my fault as yours.” 
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  “Besides, I got a spare.”  Then he made
a dismissive wave.  “Was just a bit upset last night because I’d had the
blasted thing almost five millennia.  Put a few thousand hours of my sweat and
blood into it, after cutting it out of that damn titan.  Saved my life more
than once, in the years after.”  He shrugged and went back to piling eggs into
his mouth.  “No biggie.”  Around a mouthful, he said, “It was bound to happen,
sooner or later.  ‘Specially with me doing something as stupid as planting
myself right next to a fey superhighway.”

Blaze stared at him, confused by
this new and understanding Jack.  “You mean you’re not pissed?”

Jack gave her an annoyed look. 
“I said it was fine.  I’ll just twist the little bastard’s head off later, next
time he comes snooping.”  He gestured at her platter with his fork.  “You gonna
eat your eggs?”

Reluctantly, Blaze turned to her
meal.  Though she began to get uncomfortable when he just sat there, watching
her every bite.

Eventually, after enduring his
scrutiny for almost ten minutes, she looked up in irritation.  “What?”

Jack made a nervous laugh and
rubbed the back of his neck.  “I, uh, well…”  He swallowed, looking at her.  “I
like you.”

Blaze flushed with the sudden,
overjoyed beating of her heart.  “I like you, too,” she admitted.  “It’s nice
to find someone who doesn’t mind…” she gestured at her huge form.

“Yeah, well, I like crossbreeds.”

Blaze’s attention sharpened. 
“Crossbreeds?”  She thought that maybe, finally, he was going to tell her what
he knew about her that he had been withholding all this time.

“Yeah,” Jack said, grinning. 
“Always been fond of Clydesdales, and Yetis add a bit of hardiness to the mix. 
They live in the Himalayas, you know.”

Blaze stared at him, caught
between wanting to kiss him and throw her platter at him in disgust.

“So, uh, yeah,” Jack continued,
“I like you.”  He swallowed, looking pained, obviously having more to say.

Blaze narrowed her eyes.  “And?”

“And, uh, I mean I
really
like you.  And, uh…”  He was blushing, his face beginning to dot with sweat. 
He wiped his brow, then sniffed his underarm, then groaned.  “Thor’s balls, I’m
no good at this.”

“No good at
what
?” Blaze
demanded.

It all came out in a tumble, so
fast that Blaze had trouble understanding the words.  “I know that I’m a dick,
but it seems like you like me, too, so we should probably get married before
something goes wrong,” he blurted.

Blaze felt both of her eyebrows
shoot skyward.  Her mouth fell open.  “
What
?”

“Uh,” Jack said, flushing crimson
at her reaction, “Well, you obviously aren’t a virgin, so you must know a
little bit about the way things work.”

She cocked her head at him.  “The
way
what
things work?”

He made a nervous chuckle and
rubbed his arms.  He glanced at the door like he wanted to bolt.  “I, uhhh, can’t,
uhhh.”  Another nervous chuckle.  “I mean, I, uh…”  He swallowed, hard, peering
at her.  “Well, maybe you just don’t know.  A guy and a gal have…relations…and
the girl is gonna get pregnant.”

A wave of understanding washed
over her in a blessed burst of relief.  “Ohhhhhh,” Blaze laughed.  “Okay, I get
it.”  She reached out and patted him on the hard shoulder.    “Don’t worry
about it, bud.”

His face darkened and his spine
stiffened.  “I won’t be producing a bastard.”  The vehemence in his words was
highlighted by the way his talons were suddenly gripping into the chair arms. 
“I seen enough kids in my life that ain’t had a daddy.  I won’t let it happen
to one of my own.”

Blaze slapped her hand over her
face and dragged it down.  “Okay,” she said.  “What do—”  She hesitated at the
strange look that Jack was suddenly giving her.  Like a combination of someone
who had just won the lottery, someone who was having chronic constipation, and
someone who had just been diagnosed with some weird brain tumor that gave them
visual and auditory hallucinations.  Suspiciously, she said, “Why are you staring
at me like that?”

Jack jerked and blinked at her.  Scratching
behind his ear, he muttered, “Well, uh, to be honest, I thought you were gonna
be more stubborn than that.  Woman these days are so…gun-shy…about marriage. 
Just flit from guy to guy, have kids with whoever, never settle down.  Like
they don’t trust their man to hang around and protect ‘em anymore.”  He stood
up abruptly.  “I’ll fly a pastor out here.”  He started towards the door,
looking as if he were going to go do just that.

“Sit down!” Blaze snapped, louder
than she had meant to.

Jack froze, mid turn.  He slowly
sank back into his chair, eying her as if she had suddenly grown nine-inch
fangs.

“Now listen to me a sec,” Blaze
said.  “You saw Bronze Age, the Iron Age, and you may or may not have seen the
Stone Age.  This is the Condom Age.  Today, we have ways to keep girls from
getting pregnant from a night of hot, mind-blowing sex.”

Jack flushed so hard she thought
his face might explode.  He started to get up.  “I think maybe the fire needs a
few more—”

“
So
,” Blaze continued,
cutting him off, “Seeing how this glorious Condom Age allows us to manipulate
our hormones in the name of fucking like bunnies, I went in and got
this
stuck in my arm.”  She pointed to the scar where the ten-gauge needle had
pierced the skin of her bicep and held it out for him to see.

Jack leaned over and sniffed it. 
Frowning, he looked up at her.  “What’s it do?”

“Magical things,” Blaze said,
dropping her arm back to her side.  “Three years of unprotected sex, kids-free.”

Jack’s eyes widened at the scar. 
“They can
do
that?”

She grinned at him.  “Wanna find
out?”

But he looked thoroughly
unnerved.  Jack flushed again, appearing acutely uncomfortable.  “I don’t know… 
I’m pretty potent.  My moon-magic might overwhelm it, and then the seed would
take hold…”

“Can’t overwhelm it if it can’t
stick to the sides of the uterus,” Blaze said, getting out of bed.  “Can you
pass me a shirt?”

Jack, who was staring at her,
twitched, then hurriedly snatched up a shirt and tossed it to her.  Then he
blurted, “Gotta go check the fire,” and bolted.

Blaze stared after him, stunned
and more than a little irritated by this new development.

They had the fencing up by
evening four days later, which was a good thing, because Jack had just about
polished off the rest of the eggs, meat, dairy, and anything else remotely
resembling protein that Blaze had had shipped out on the last grocery run. 
Since Jack had frustratingly kept Blaze phoneless—still not trusting her not to
‘hit the rag and do something stupid’—they went to his house and Jack powered
up the generator so she could make a few calls out to a few farmers she knew in
the Mat-Su Valley.  Yes, she knew it was last minute, yes, she was going to
need feed, yes, she was actually going to fly them out to the Bush in an
airplane.

“Okay,” Blaze said, putting down
the phone, “Hope you like goat milk.”

“Was raised on the stuff,” Jack
said.

Blaze peered at him, trying to
determine if he was joking.  He was leaning back, picking his teeth with a distracted
air.  Slowly, she said, “We’re lookin’ at sixteen meat kids, five adult milk
does, and a meat buck, plus twelve breeding piglets.”

Jack nodded.  “And a butt-ton of
fowl and rabbits.  I heard.”

Blaze gave him a narrow look. 
“You aren’t to eat any of this stuff unless you’ve got my go-ahead first.  All
right?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. 
“They’re livestock.  They’re meant to be eaten.”  The way he said it, he was
going to walk into the barn whenever he got hungry and eat the first thing that
got underfoot.

“They’re
rare
livestock,”
Blaze said.  “Those pigs are Mulefoot Hogs and Gloucester Old Spot Pigs. 
There’s fewer than two hundred of either breed in North America.” 

“And the chickens?” Jack growled.

“Jersey Giants,” Blaze said. 
“I’ll let you eat some of the roosters, when they hatch.”  She gestured. 
“Mostly, we’re gonna keep you fed on eggs and rabbit.  Standard rex.  I’ve got
American Blue and Silver Fox rabbits coming, too, but you can’t eat those.”

“Why not?” Jack demanded,
bristling.

“Because they’re
endangered
,”
Blaze growled.

“Eggs and rabbit and a chicken
now and then?” Jack growled back.

“And some ducks and turkeys and
geese.  And the meat goats and some of the pigs, when they grow up.”

“Some,” Jack muttered.

Blaze looked him up and down,
then tried to calculate how much he ate.  “That’s not gonna be enough, is it?”

“I’ve been starving myself this
last month,” Jack growled.  “I need
real
meat, and lots of it.  I’ve
been losing muscle with how little I’ve been eating lately.”

Blaze looked him in the eyes,
thought about the massive plates of eggs he’d wolfed down, saw he was serious,
and went back to the phone to call a few more friends.  Her feed bill was going
to be astronomical, but then there were discounts for buying in bulk.

Thus, the next morning, when Bruce
Rogers’ DeHavilland Beaver brought in the first load of yaks and unloaded them,
mewling, on the shore, the whole neighborhood turned out to stare.

“Whatcha gon’ do with yaks?”
Joanne Klein, the neighbor from the little shack on the mouth of Ebony Creek,
asked.  Somehow, news of their plan had spread, and seven neighbors had met
them on the beach that morning, asking about their new farm.

“Eat them,” Jack said, gathering
up the yak calves’ leads and hauling the entire eight-calf herd through the
crowd, up the path toward the lodge.  Blaze, unable to handle the stares she
was getting from the other residents of the area, followed him up the hill.

By the third Beaver trip, this
time dropping off the piglets, rabbits, and bags of food, Blaze was getting
not-so-polite chuckles and smirks behind hands.

By the sixth, this time filled to
the brim with kid goats, some of the neighbors were laughing outright.  Jack
ever-so-politely told them to fuck off.

It took seven trips total, and
about thirty thousand dollars in plane, food, and animal costs, but when the
day was over and Blaze was sitting in her yard, watching her ten dozen chicks
peck at the ground while the goats, pigs, and yaks explored the boundaries of
the fence, she had her farm.  The thought gave her a warm glow, and sitting
beside Jack, feeling his strength beside her, she wondered how life could have
gotten that good.

Jack roasted goat for dinner.  Despite
her protestations, Jack said that, seeing how her Boer meat goats were the one ‘decently
edible’ thing she’d brought onto the property that wasn’t an endangered breed, should
he end up eating them all, she could just buy more.  And then he promptly took a
young buck out back, cut its throat, and skinned it, all with the practiced ease
of someone who had done it many, many times in the past.

Blaze then watched in shock as he
ate half of the entire goat by himself in one sitting, probably close to twenty
pounds of meat, the spectacle so gruesome she finally gave up eating just to
stare.  “You full?” she asked, when he was finished.

Jack grunted.  “One or two of
those a day should work.”

Her brain did a quick mental
calculation.  Thirty pounds of meat a day, multiplied by three-sixty-five…

“No
wonder
the moose
population around here’s taking a hit again,” Blaze cried.  “You guys have been
eating them all.”

“Hey,” Jack growled.  “That’s why
I’ve got ten square miles and run a salmon fishwheel.”

“But the wolves,” Blaze said. 
“They’ve gotta be hitting this place hard.”

“Fifty percent drop in moose
population in one year,” Jack said.

Blaze flinched.  “I hadn’t heard
that.”  From what she’d heard, when she was doing research into good areas to
establish a hunting lodge, the general consensus had been that the Yentna area
was recovering.