most important thing was keeping the babies safe. “If we’re going to
build the pen, it may be wise to start on it now before any more aliens appear.
They’re getting desperate.”
“Then use the wood we chopped for the huts.”
Bronto glared at Vulcan over his nose. “The wood I busted my
ass to whack into pieces for more than eight hours straight?”
“Yep, that would be it.”
“Okay.” What was he cranking about? Seriously, building a
dinosaur pen was a great idea. That was, if the aliens took the bait. If not,
well, there was nothing he could do besides grab an ax and chop down a thousand
more trees. That was a slightly inflated number but what the hell. Why not a
thousand? They could build log cabins and scrap the huts. They’d even have
enough left over to build Birmon a treehouse and the serpent a den.
He needed to quit riding the woman about her pets. Her
intentions were practical. Smart, actually. He was just being a jackass because
he had an itch he wanted Ivy to scratch. Self-preservation could wreck a man.
If Ivy had an entourage of animals he’d build each and every one its own
dwelling too.
Initially Bronto couldn’t comprehend Vulcan’s infatuation
for the cavewoman from the Peaceful Clan. Nearly every day for months he’d
wandered to the lake and hidden within the surrounding forest while she bathed.
Vulcan insisted he’d spied on her from a distance to keep her safe. Bronto
referred to it as feeding an obsession.
After she’d emerge from the water cold and dripping wet,
Vulcan followed her home. In his words, he’d shadowed her steps to guarantee
her safety. Bronto speculated he was appeasing said obsession.
As they said on Earth, hindsight’s twenty-twenty, and Bronto
quit second-guessing Vulcan’s crusade the night they’d set off for a hunt and
heard her screaming in the distance. They’d beaten ass to the location, her own
camp of all places, and found her bound and bleeding between two trees. Aside
from Ivy, none of her people rushed to her assistance. As a matter of fact,
they’d watched the show as one of their own stood with a whip in his hand. That
stuck in Bronto’s craw. He couldn’t even imagine what Vulcan felt. Sure he
could. Vulcan wanted to twist that whip into a noose and hang the son of a
bitch from the nearest tree. Of course he hadn’t because of his strict
governmental rules but he’d retaliated by rearranging the thug’s nose.
In Bronto’s opinion it wasn’t enough. That man damn near
beat Wisteria to a bloody pulp. Blood dripped from three or four open gashes
across her tummy and thighs. Bronto couldn’t fathom her pain and he’d utilized
extreme caution when he cut her loose and sat her down.
Shaking his head, he set off in the direction of the horses,
where they’d stacked the wood in piles yesterday. As he veered toward the right
he spotted Vulcan veering to the left, aiming for his hut. And be damned,
Wisteria was tucked under his arm.
Bronto halted. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he
shouted.
“We’re taking a break.”
“A break?” Break, my ass. He plans on getting a
piece. “Do you honestly think there’s time for that? You’ve got a
thirteen-bedroom dinosaur ranch to construct, and probably green people lurking
in the forest whose arms are long enough to box your ears from there.”
Vulcan shook his head and grinned. After a kiss to the top
of Wisteria’s noggin and what appeared to be a quick apology, he turned her by
the shoulders, aiming her at Ivy and Jade. After she headed in their direction
he trudged across the yard to join Bronto. “Why the sudden chipper mood?”
Bronto verified Ivy’s whereabouts at the supply hut before
he started unstacking wood. Grunt had vanished, which eased the knot in his
gut. “I’d like a break too but considering I’ve only been up for an
hour, it isn’t justifiable,” he said, removing a six-foot piece from the pile.
Vulcan folded his arms across his chest, turned