Courting Kel (8 page)

“Yes. I want it to look as natural as possible.”

“I have nothing to compare it to but it’s beautiful.”

They sat in companionable silence, still holding hands. Kel realized
she’d never felt so at peace. Like a drihumb pausing in its perpetual flight,
she took this quiet moment to her heart and held it there.

Aren’s soft voice startled her, intruding into place made
for birdsong and creatures large and tiny to play among the trees and flowers
and grasses. From somewhere near but out of sight, birds scolded. Overhead,
perched on a leafy branch, another bird called to its mate. It sounded so
forlorn, so lonely, Kel felt tears burn her eyes. If she didn’t get off this guanshit
planet soon, she’d melt in a puddle of her own tears.

“Mmmm?” she said when she could.

“I said if you were home, what would you be doing?”

“Crawling on my belly through a swamp and wishing the
skeetmosques would find an invader to dine on.”

“Do you have many?”

“Swarms of thousands. They drone like wasps and sting like
leeches when they bite. Leave little trails of blood like guanshit.”

“You get that close to invaders?”

His droll tone made Kel look up. “Oh. I thought you meant…”

“I know what you thought. We’ve wiped out skeetmosques
here.”

“Another case full of luck for Ondrican.” At her surly tone,
Kel shrugged. “Sorry. Experiencing an envy attack just now.”

“When Tage and I were lads, Storr told us stories about your
homeworld.”

“I bet he told you what a hellhole it is. How badly he was
treated. What a hellhole it is.”

The repetition made Aren laugh. “He didn’t much care for the
swamps, the humidity or the skeetmosques. But he thought your jungles have a
kind of savage beauty.”

“And the mating wasn’t bad either.”

“According to Storr, the fucking was spectacular.”

“Did he tell you why he was on Amazonia or how he got
captured?”

Releasing her hand, Aren stood.

How could he share his feelings about Drew yet refuse to
tell her about his father? Did he think she didn’t understand a man’s needs? Or
did he believe she would hate his father if she knew what Storr had done on
Amazonia? As if what he’d tried to do to Basalia wasn’t enough reason to
despise him!

Mayhem in her heart, Kel ran.

Chapter Six

Aren found her in Peg’s barn, swearing at the gryph and
trying to saddle him. Every time Kel approached, Peg bared his teeth, growled
in his lion way and skittered out of reach.

“It is fortunate I fed him this morning. Otherwise you’d
make a tasty snack.”

Whirling, Kel threw the saddle at him. Arms akimbo, she
glared between the pegagryph and Aren.

“Come with me, Kel.” She stuck out her tongue then turned
away. Not enough to leave her vulnerable to attack, but far enough to tell him
she was pissed. “Come with me and I’ll tell you everything Storr told me.”

“You’ll tell me anyway. I’m a warrior, trained to waiting.”

“But unschooled in patience.”

“I can outwait any pampered prince.” She tossed her head,
sending her unbound hair into her eyes. Retaining a regal air, she tucked the
wayward locks behind her ears.

Sitting on a bale of hay, he crossed his arms over his
chest, one bare foot over the other. “I’m also trained as a warrior, Kel.
Moreover, I’m trained in diplomacy. If you believe crawling on your belly
through a swamp is tedious, try sitting in a room with twenty diplomats. Or,
even worse, one of Storr’s council meetings.” Gods blast it, he wanted to make
a blanket from her silky hair and wrap them both in it.

“I’ve sat through that kind of guanshit. The council kind.”

“Bet you walked out before they finished.”

Her eyebrows quirked just before she grinned. “Where will we
go? If I come with you, that is.”

“Up the mountain. Since you live near swamps—”

“Sometimes in them.”

“I suspect you’ve never been in snow.”

His voice and goosefleshed skin conveyed very low
temperatures, as if just thinking about snow made him feel icy. She shivered.
“Much as I hate heat, I don’t like being cold either.”

“I have cold-weather clothing,” he said, closely watching
her eyes.
Ah, there it is. That stormy gray that tells so much about her
mood.
“If it’s really cold, we can share body heat. It is the most
effective way to stay warm.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said with a touch of asperity. But
her eyes lightened to a soft brown. Tapping her foot, she gave him a long,
considering look. “All right, I’ll come with you. I would like to see snow.”

“We can play in it if you like.”

“Play? What is play?”

“It’s a difficult concept to explain. When we arrive, I’ll
show you. Come on.” He held out his hand.

That long, considering look again. Then she took his hand.
He felt her tremble and sent a prayer of thanks toward heaven. Teaching Kel how
to play might become the experience of his life.
And hers
, he silently
amended. One night in a snow cave had infinite pleasurable possibilities.

* * * * *

“Another barn? At least,” Kel went on immediately, “this
one’s in better condition.”

“Horses are easier on their homes than pegagryphs.” Taking a
pack off a nearby hook, Aren handed it to her. “You’ll have to carry this. The
trail’s too steep for the horses.”

Nodding, she eased her arms through the straps, shifting
until it balanced to her satisfaction. “We could ride Peg.”

“No place to bathe up there, Flame. Remember last night and
pulling off our clothes.”

“Ugh!” Chewing her lower lip, she cleared her throat. “I
think I owe you an apology for last night. What you and your family do—how you
treat each other—is none of my business.”

He flinched. She knew she’d hurt him. “I suppose I should
apologize for saying what I just said.”

“I admire honesty—even when it lacks tact.” Grabbing his own
pack, he strode outside. “Coming?”

“Not anytime soon,” she mumbled to herself, following
behind.
Another case of not knowing my own mind.

* * * * *

Halfway up the mountain, they stopped. Sitting on a flat
boulder, easing off their packs, they viewed their surroundings.

“It’s…spectacular,” Kel said. White-capped peaks surrounded
them and yet it seemed as if she could see every nook and cranny in the valleys
below. As if she could pick up Aren’s barns and house like a child’s building
blocks and replant his gardens on the mountainside. Seeing smoke curling upward
to dissipate in the crystal blue skies, she glanced at Aren.

“Nothing to worry about, Flame. Just folks cooking breakfast
or heating their homes.”

“
Folks
,” she echoed. “How many folks live around
here?”

“About thirty families all together. And don’t think you can
run to them for help. You won’t get any from them.”

“Not that I was thinking about running—” He grunted as if he
knew she’d been thinking exactly that. “But why wouldn’t they help me?” When he
just glanced at her, she rushed on. “You might get hurt and need someone to
carry you to medical aid. I’m strong, Aren, but not that strong. And what about
fires? With all these trees, an out-of-control fire could burn everything to
the ground.
Folks
could be homeless in a matter of minutes.”

“Or I could be a brute who beat you for no reason. Even if I
bloodied and bruised you, they wouldn’t help you.”

“Not that I think you’re that kind of man, but why not?”

“Because I take care of what is mine.” Standing, he
resettled his pack and started up the mountain. “Another five kilometers before
we reach the snow line. We’ll eat then.”

She resented him thinking she was his but decided to let it
go. Wondering if she could find her way back to his lodge without getting lost,
Kel eyed his wide back, muttering to herself as she followed him. “Would you
like to rest a little longer, Kel? Need some water, Kel? No, I’m fine, tak.
Never had to climb in air this thin but I’m just dandy.” What taking care of
what’s his had to do with folks helping her, she had no idea.

In her mind, Basalia tsked.
You’re a warrior, Keleos. Are
you going to let a man get the better of you?

“By all the gods, no!”

And I’m not yours!

By the time they reach the snow, Kel was out of breath and
her legs felt so shaky she could barely stand. When she went home, she’d
persuade Basalia to design some kind of climbing equipment for her warriors. If
any Amazonian woman found herself in Kel’s situation, she wouldn’t have her
lungs screaming for air or her thighs and calves pleading for a chair. There
were few mountains on Amazonia—none so high as here—but they would serve as a
starting place for training to survive in thinner air. What Basalia could
design to keep her warriors from freezing, Kel had no idea. If Amazonia had
ever had fur-bearing animals, the planet’s torrid heat had made them extinct.
Or they had mutated into an Amazonia-tolerant form.

“Here.” Aren dropped a blanket around her shoulders.

“Tak.” Her teeth were chattering so hard she could hear
them. As if alive, the blanket curled around her. She shrieked, struggling to
pull it off her, but the more she fought the tighter it wound.

“Hold still,” Aren commanded, his hands on her shoulders
pinning her in place.

She glared up at him, noticing his blanket covered him from
head to toe. He looked like some furry creature that could gobble her up in one
bite. And yet…his eyes held calmness and a hint of amusement. Under her hands his
blanket felt soft and smooth and warm as fleece. Her blanket encased her
fingers, but she could still feel Aren’s body heat as if he were naked. She
stepped away.

“The fabric adjusts to climate,” Aren explained, now pulling
foodstuffs from his pack.

“Along with a supply of caills, I want meters and meters of
this material to take home.”

“It may not function in extreme heat or humidity.”

“Oh? Then it’s the perfect opportunity to test it.” Snapping
her fingers, she crowed, “I’ll trade you for it. That is, Basalia will trade
for it.”

“What does Amazonia have in the way of trade goods?
Skeetmosques perhaps? Something even more unpleasant?”

His condescension made her grit her teeth. “Graackocrto
skins make beautiful boots and shoes. Even bags for transporting clothes. If
you had many and needed to move them.”

“At what cost to the graackocrto? Do Amazonians hunt them
for their skins? Kill them for their meat?”

“Their flesh is poisonous if ingested. And we harvest their
skins only when they shed them.”

“Hmmm.”

He stared at her. Kel imagined him picturing her in
graackocrto skin and felt her own skin heat. She could as easily imagine
him—his cock and balls and ass encased in varying shades of pink. With his dark
coloring, pink would look more than a little alluring. She doubted he’d wear
it. More likely he’d demand to have it dyed. Most likely black, which would all
but obscure its lovely patterns and hues.

“Here.” He held out a neat package of something wrapped in a
shiny material. “Food, Kel. See?” He opened his, biting into something between
two pieces of bread.

Since he didn’t expire where he stood, Kel followed suit. A
thick, salty substance and another one sweet stuck her tongue to the roof of
her mouth.
That’s one way to keep me quiet
, she thought.
A yummy way.

“Is there more?” she asked when she could.

Smiling at her as a parent would when a child said her first
distinct word, he nodded. “I suppose you want pots and pots of brutteunt to
take home as well.”

With her tongue stuck again, she could only nod.

“Soon you’ll fill
The Herald
’s hold with Ondrican
goods. But what will you give in return? Graackocrto seems your only tradable
commodity.”

Women
, she thought, biting her lips to stop the word.
She would have to convince Basalia—never an easy task under the best of
circumstances—probably impossible given her past with Storr.

“I would need to talk with my mother before making other
suggestions.” She looked down at her hands.

Aren held out his hand. “Let’s play.”

When Kel finally lifted her gaze to Aren’s face, her eyes
swirled. Impossible to gauge her precise mood, he could at least see she wasn’t
angry.

Licking a fleck of sweet from her upper lip, she offered a
brief smile. “At home we begin to train as soon as we can walk. Sticks become
wooden swords or bows and arrows. When we are older, we train with iron and
steel to build our strength for these warrior weapons.”

“Who trains women how to raise babies? To cook?” Now that
she seemed willing to talk about her homeworld, he wanted to learn as much as
he could. Her customs might give him insights to win her heart so she would
stay with him.

“The elders. What are you doing?”

“You haven’t balls on Amazonia?”

“Only men have balls. They aren’t so round as the one your
hands are forming. Nor are they so white. Even the few albino invaders we
capture aren’t that white. Moreover, their balls are hairy, the same as yours.”

“This ball is for playing. For tossing.” He threw it,
hitting her left shoulder. “You’re supposed to catch it.”

“Will catching it ease its sting? This is a weapon, Aren.”

“Not if I do this.” Even thinking she would still view snow
as a weapon, he scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it all over her face.
When he released her, she spun away. Gathering snow, packing it as she
retreated, she threw the ball. Only his fast reflexes kept it from slapping his
own balls.

“Make a deal with you, Flame. You don’t throw balls below my
waist and I won’t throw above yours.”

“Deal.”

Laughing, she scampered away to take shelter behind a snowy
mound.

“You’re fast. But I’m faster.” Running, gathering snow as he
went, firing snowballs in quick succession, he managed to hit her five or six
times. Although she had to slog to get away from him, her aim was as accurate
as his own. Her missiles—smaller than his—stung. Only the altitude let him
capture her. The thinner air slowed her, making her gasp for breath. Which
worked to his advantage when his tackle felled her. Afraid she’d smother in the
snowbank where she had fallen, he rolled her to her back. And had his own face
washed by two fistfuls of snow.

Her eyes swirled with slender threads of black. Her cheeks
and nose were chilled red by snow and cold air. Pink lips curving in a
triumphant smile, she smeared his face. “If getting the better of you is play,
it amuses me.”

“We call it fun. And, no, we don’t summon it, as you thought
we called choke. Although we can seek it out, as we have today.”

“Tak, Aren.” Shoving him off, she leapt to her feet,
graceful as a tiger finishing its daily bath.

“Have these balls a name?” she asked, scooping up more snow.

“An obvious one. Snowball.”

“Ahh. May I assume you have other balls with different
names?”

“Yes. Come here, Kel.”

“Why?”

“We need to find shelter before the storm descends. And we
need to hurry.”

Glancing skyward, she seemed to assess the gathering clouds.
Without a word, she retrieved her pack and set off down the mountain.

“If hurrying is the price for fun, fun comes at a high
price,” she called over her shoulder.

“Everything worth having comes with costs,” he said, more to
himself than Kel.

They almost made it to the tree line before the flurries
began. Surprising him, Kel halted and tipped up her face. When he got near
enough, he saw she was catching snowflakes on her tongue and laughing softly.
Her blanket had slipped off her head as if to join in her childlike delight.
Flakes caught in her fiery tresses and lingered for a moment before melting.
Drops of water sparkled like dew on the petals of his seros.

“Oh look, it’s Peg!” Kel cried, pointing to the beast
circling above them. “Will you call him down, Aren? Please.”

“Only if you bathe with me. Even with our blankets to
protect us, our clothes will stick.”