Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3 (12 page)

Eleven

Ke’lar was aware of her before he was fully awake, as he would be aware of her, seeking her presence, every moment till the end of his existence.

The scent of her sex filled the shelter, inviting forth his mating purr, stirring him again to full arousal, his penis already lubricating for more coupling. Her rounded buttocks were pressed to his hips, his body curled around the softness of her.

His fingers brushed the tips of her breasts, the sweetness of her taut pink nipples. She was already responding, pressing back against him in irresistible invitation.

Ke’lar’s hand rested on her hip for a moment to hold her steady, feeling the bone beneath her skin, the warm, slight roundness of her belly as he placed his penis between the lips of her opening. Sure now that his purr had readied her, he slid into her taut slick center.

He held there, inside her, and moved his hand lower, from her belly to the soft, golden hair of her mound. His fingers came to rest at the apex of her opening, her lips held open by his sheathed cock.

His thumb pressed there, to that sensitive spot of human female anatomy. In the night of coupling he had learned how to heighten and extend her arousal by softening or deepening his purr, just how hard to bite so that he deepened her pleasure without causing pain, how the lightest touch just
here
—

Summer moaned, the walls of her sex contracting around his penis as she came. Her back arched to press herself closer as he started to thrust. He kept his fingers between her lips, at that sweet, tiny nub as he rocked inside her, his eyes closing at the pleasure of it.

She was gasping, her head flung back, the strands of her bright silky hair brushing his skin, the scent of her spiraling arousal urging him on to plunge faster. She was nearing another climax and he lowered the vibration of his purr to keep her just at the peak for a moment more . . .

Then she was contracting around him hard, her release demanding his own, and he bared his fangs as he pulsed inside her.

He collapsed beside her, his breath still quick as he withdrew, laughing softly at the sheer delight of loving her.

My Summer . . .

She rolled toward him, her eyes opened, and she gave him a joyous, sleepy smile.

My mate . . .

Nice way to wake up . . .

Ke’lar’s glowing eyes were soft, his back hair curtaining his face as he smiled down at her.

“What time is it?” she asked. They were still naked, that was for sure. His body was warm against hers, curled around her.

He traced the skin of her cheek. “I do not know.” He gave a quiet, huffing chuckle. “We did not sleep until very late.”

“I could sleep more,” she mumbled, her eyes already falling shut again.

“Then sleep, little one.” He drew her closer into his embrace as he settled against her. “Sleep as long as you wish.”

His head was cradled against her neck, his mouth warm and moist against her throat, the silkiness of his hair spread over her arm and shoulder. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the sweet feel of Ke’lar against her.

“We should get up,” she murmured, but made no move to do so. She had never been so comfortable, so content in her life.

“No, let us stay here,” he rumbled, his breath hot on her skin.

“You mean just live in this cave—like ancient humans and g’hir?”

She felt him smile against her neck.

“We will be far more comfortable than they ever were. We have our shelter and a heater and our bed. We will delight in each other.” He snuggled closer. “I will hunt for you, and we will make our home here until the snow brings the next gathering . . .”

An image of shops bright with holiday lights, of snow blanketing Brittle Bridge’s Main Street, flashed through her mind, jolting her awake.

Through the shelter’s opening, through the cave entrance, the sky was as vibrant blue as Ke’lar’s eyes.

“The rain,” she whispered. “It’s stopped. When did it stop?”

“Hmm,” he rumbled, moving closer. “Hours ago.”

Oh God, what did I do?

This—she and Ke’lar—wasn’t supposed to happen, this was never supposed to happen. What about home, what about—

So I just . . . what? Forgot?

Guilt slashed her heart and Summer disengaged from Ke’lar’s embrace, and sat up, clutching the fur covers to her chest.

Sunshine filled the cave entrance, birdsong drifted in on the sweet air . . .

What the fuck time is it anyway?

“We should go.”

“What is the matter?” He propped himself up, his rippled brow creased. “Your heart is racing.”

She avoided his gaze and ran her hand through her hair. “How long before we can get packed up and out of here?”

He pushed himself up to kneeling, as comfortable with being bare as ever, his black silky hair in disarray from their lovemaking, his beautiful cock resting on his muscular thighs.

“Little one? What is it?” He searched her face. “You are greatly distressed.”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, already reaching for her clothes. “How quick can we get going?”

His brow furrowed as she climbed over him to yank her trousers on, her fingers flying to fasten the shirt. Thankfully her new boots had finally dried and she pulled them on, quickly tying them closed.

“Come on,” she urged, her throat tight. “We need to go.”

He blinked up at her but took his own clothes in one broad hand and stood to dress.

“How long?” she asked as soon as he’d finished fastening his boots. “It must be near midday.”

“We should eat—”

“Can’t we eat on the way?” she interrupted.

His brow furrowed but he jerked his chin in a g’hir nod. “I must break camp and saddle Beya. It is best I carry the supplies down to her than bring her here.”

“Can I help?”

“If you wish to leave swiftly, it is quicker if I do this alone.”

“Okay,” she said, heading out of the shelter and into the chill of the cave.

Waiting while he disassembled and packed everything had her practically dancing back and forth between the sunny, rocky path outside and the chill of the cave. It wasn’t as if he were taking a long time—he was a model of warrior efficiency—but it left her with nothing to do and no way to speed things up.

“Wait here,” he said, hefting their supplies. “When I have saddled her I will return for you.”

“That’ll just waste time,” she said impatiently. “This is your clan’s territory, there’s not going to be some Zerar horde hiding behind a bush waiting to attack us. I’m going with you.”

Clearly this was the perfect way
not
to motivate an alien warrior because Ke’lar’s jaw hardened and he stopped dead, instantly transforming into an unmovable wall of muscle and male stubbornness.

“You are my responsibility,” he growled. “I could not call myself a warrior if I neglected your safety so.”

Summer had to force herself to slow even breaths.

Eyes on the prize here. The point is to get to the clanhall as fast as possible, not to debate g’hir cultural ideals.

“Fine,” she bit out, folding her arms. “Go. I’ll wait here.”

His gaze narrowed a bit as if judging the sincerity of her word.

“Seriously. Go.” She sat down on the rock she’d perched on while waiting for him only last night. “I’ll be right here.”

After a moment he inclined his head. “I will return as quickly as I am able.”

Summer chewed her lip as he started on the path down to where he’d housed Beya. 

It was Wednesday, at least back in Brittle Bridge. She only had until Sunday afternoon to get home . . .

It was another two days to the clanhall. That left her a little over a day to convince the clanfather of the Erah to disregard g’hir cultural traditions, to incur the greater enmity of a rival clan

Dammit, where is he already?

She was on her feet, about to go after him, but, as if he somehow sensed she was on the verge of breaking her word, he chose that moment to return. She was past him in an instant, heading down the rocky path toward where Beya waited patiently, already saddled and loaded down with their supplies.

Before she could get to the beast’s side to mount up, he loosed the reins from the tree and began to lead Beya.

“We’re walking?” Summer asked, frowning. “The path is wide enough to ride, isn’t it?”

“We can eat as we travel,” he said. “But she must be fed and watered before she is ridden. There is a creek not far from here. She will drink and I will fill our water pouches.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to object. Then her gaze met Beya’s and she read patience, deep loyalty, and weariness in that animal’s glowing gaze.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Okay.”

Summer took the opportunity—since they were stuck waiting on the multari anyway—to eat some of the jerky-stuff Ke’lar offered her and splash some water on her face. Beya dipped her heavy head and drank deeply when they reached the creek but wasn’t nearly as interested in her feed.

“Which way is the clanhall from here?”

He pointed. That way the valley curved to the left, and the river far below led in that direction.

“So which way is faster?” she asked, as Ke’lar stroked Beya’s nose, coaxing her to eat. “The mountains or doubling back to go through the valley?”

“The valley is the shortest distance but we will continue on through the mountain pass.”

“Why? You said yourself that if we do that it’ll add a whole other day.” She indicated the blue sky, the fluffy clouds. “I’m pretty sure it’s not going to rain today. It doesn’t even look flooded down here.”

“Travel through the valley will be far worse than it seems from here.” He gave up trying to feed the multari and offered a g’hir’s nod toward the verdant land below. “The ground has absorbed some of the rain but not much yet. There will be places Beya may sink to her knees in the mud.”

The sweet spring air lifted her hair as Summer turned her face toward where the river curved at the base of the snow-capped mountain. “On Earth, settlements—especially old ones—were always built near a river or sea. The Betari clanhall was built near water. Yours was too, right?

He shot her a puzzled look. “It was.”

“Well, let’s use the river then,” she said briskly. “That would be the fastest. We could sail there, couldn’t we?”

“We could,” he agreed, stowing the animal’s feed. “If we had a boat, which we do not.”

“Well, there must be one on the river,” she pointed out. “We’ll hitch a ride. You’re the clanfather’s son and this is urgent, that would put any boat at your disposal.”

“Do you see one?” he demanded with a wave toward the river.

“No,” she admitted grudgingly. There wasn’t a boat in sight. “But there are fishermen that use the river all the time, aren’t there?”

“Yes, and who would have sought a safe place to moor during the storm. The river will still have the runoff of the storm and they too are wisely waiting till the river is less treacherous.” He stopped walking, Beya shifting beside him. “But perhaps you would prefer that we camp at the river’s edge and wait there until a boat appears to carry us to the clanhall instead.”