Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3 (7 page)

Seven

“Summer?”

Her name was soft thunder rumbling in her ear and she became aware of many things at once: the wonderful comfort of a bed in the morning, a large hand gentle on her shoulder, the light streaming into the shelter, the astonishing blue of his glowing eyes—

“Man . . .” Her lids felt heavy and she fought the urge to burrow beneath the covers. “I feel like I just laid down.”

“I am sorry to wake you,” Ke’lar said, his tone regretful, his hand tracing her shoulder as he pulled his hand away. “But the suns rose hours ago and we have much territory to cover to cross the Te River before nightfall. ”

“’Kay.” Summer passed her hand over her face, trying to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep, and sniffed appreciatively in the direction of the shelter’s open flap. “God, whatever that is cooking out there smells amazing.”

“I am glad you think so.” He leaned back on his heels. “For it is our morning meal. It is nearly ready but I thought you would wish to wash and dress before we ate.” He tilted his head. “I can allow you a few more minutes’ rest if you prefer to eat first.”

“Better not,” she sighed, pushing herself up to sitting. Who would have thought a pallet bed on the ground would be so damned comfortable? “If I close my eyes for a second I’m just going to fall asleep again.”

“Here.” He offered her a simple glazed cup, steam curling over it. “Jenna says this is much like what humans call cof.”

“Cof?” she wondered, taking the warm cup from him and peering at the dark liquid inside. “I think you mean ‘coffee’? Actually”—she gave it a sniff—“this isn’t . . .” She took a sip and raised her eyebrows “. . . bad at all.”

“Jenna vows she could not live on Hir without it.” Ke’lar gave a faint smile. “I have not acquired a taste for this beverage but she gifted me some when I left the clanhall.”

“I’m glad she did,” she said, sipping again. Okay, it wasn’t Kona coffee for heaven’s sake, more like what you’d get at Denny’s at three in the morning, and she preferred cream and sugar but it was welcome all the same. “Thanks, it really helps.” She threw the blankets off. “Just give me a minute and I’ll get dressed.”

“I will tend to our meal,” he said and ducked out.

Man, that got him outta here quick.

It didn’t look like he’d slept in here either. Frowning, she took another sip of the drink then set the cup down and eased her way up off the pallet. As expected she was sore all over, but a quick inventory showed their advanced g’hir medicine had worked magic; her bruises were faded to almost nothing, her scrapes and blisters gone.

She’d slept in the shirt but it wasn’t as rumpled as she thought it would be. Granny Jones, a Southern belle if there ever was one, always said that a lady never set out of the house no matter what the day or time without her hair neat and a least a little lipstick. Summer’s mouth curved into a wry smile. Granny would probably have paused during the escape to touch up her face powder but Summer didn’t even have a brush or comb; sneaking those hadn’t been a priority. Neither was make-up. She didn’t even have lip balm with her.

She pulled on the trousers then ran her hands through her hair, not that it did much good against the many tangles.

Damn it, who cares how I look out here anyway?

She’d used Ke’lar’s too-big soft foot coverings last night when her feet hurt too much to don her own shoes but she’d been riding, not walking, then. They kept her feet warm enough but flopped comically whenever she walked and Ke’lar’s fangs flashed in a smile when he saw her emerge from the shelter.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed at being so clumsy. “I didn’t see my boots and I didn’t want to just go riffling through your stuff looking for them.”

“There is no need,” he said, bending to retrieve a bundle of shaped skins. “I have made you new ones.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I have made new boots for you.”

“Wait—you
made
boots for me?” He jerked his chin toward her—a g’hir’s nod—and her eyebrows rose. “When did you have time to do that? And why?”

“After this morning’s hunting. As to why—” He sent a glance at her feet. “You cannot wear the others without suffering pain and clearly my foot coverings will not suit.” He extended the boots toward her. “These are of simple design; they will be easy to adjust for your comfort but you must put them on for me to be sure they fit. If they do not, I can alter them.”

“Uh, okay,” she managed, taking the pair from him. They were beautifully made, a deep brown, created from skins that made them look a lot like the sheepskin boots she wore at home in the winter but made without a hard sole, like moccasins.

Balancing on one foot, she pulled on one then the other and using the leather straps secured them to the carved buttons. She took a few experimental steps. They were soft, warm, and extremely comfortable to walk in.

His glowing gaze met hers. “Do they fit?”

“They’re perfect,” she said honestly. “They’re amazing.” She gave a laugh. “I can’t believe you just made these for me! Where did you learn boot-making, Ke’lar?”

“It is one of the skills a warrior learns.”

“Like fighting? Like hunting?”

Her throat tightened.
Like capturing women?

Ke’lar indicated the spit and the meat roasting there. “And cooking.”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl and her face heated when he gave a huffing laugh.

“It will be ready shortly,” he promised.

“Well, then.” She brushed her hands on the sides of her trousers. “I best hurry and wash up. Which way to the water? I want to take my new boots for a test drive.”

“Come.” He swung a small pack over his shoulder and indicated a thicket of trees about a football field away. “It is not far.”

“I just needed you to point the way,” she said, turning in that direction. “I’ll be back a few.”

In an instant he was in front of her, blocking her way. She gasped at his speed.

I’ll never get used to how goddamn fast they are!

“You are my responsibility, Summer.” His glowing blue gaze was earnest, his growl caveman brash. “Mine to protect now.”

“What are you going to protect me from?” she asked, her face heating. “The fish?”

“I vowed to bring you safely to the Erah clanhall so that you may make your appeal to my father.” His nostrils flared a bit, his booted feet planted firmly. “I cannot honor my vow if I do not keep you safe.”

“Damn it, I don’t need you to—!” Summer threw her hands out in frustration. “You know what? Fine, whatever. I’m hungry.” She gave a flourishing mocking wave in the direction of the trees. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

He didn’t budge, his alien brow furrowed. “‘MacDuff’?”

“It’s a line from a human play called
MacBeth
.” The sweet morning breeze lifted her hair, blowing a few strands into her eyes, and impatiently she pushed her hair back. “It means ‘Let’s go already.’”

His glowing gaze was still puzzled but he jerked his chin toward her again then led the way, she behind him. He walked his clan’s land with the easy confidence of one well accustomed to life outdoors on Hir, his g’hir physiology giving him a smooth, catlike gait despite his size.

The stream Ke’lar led her to was heavily shaded, the water moving placidly between the rocky banks. The water wasn’t deep, maybe three or four feet at the center, the kind of creek that growing up back in Brittle Bridge she and her friends might have splashed in to escape the heat of July.

She might even have taken it for a creek back home, with the sunlight dappling across the water, except that ursh trees, their limbs heavy with fernlike gray-green leaves, overhung the banks on either side and a bright nuaran bird that hopped on one of those branches, its glowing eyes darting her way before it flew away, belied any resemblance to North Carolina—or Earth for that matter.

Ke’lar stopped and held up his hand in silent order for her to pause. His body was tense, his hand at the blaster he wore on his hip. He shifted his weight, pivoting as his glowing gaze swept the area. He took a few quick sniffs.

Her glance darted about; she couldn’t detect any but themselves here but his senses were far keener than hers.

“This place is secure,” he confirmed. “We are alone.” He gave another light sniff. “There have been no others save myself here for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Summer muttered. “Jeez, what a nose.” She indicated the creek water. “Is it safe to drink?”

“It is safe to rinse your mouth with,” he cautioned. “I have filtered the water we will drink.” He handed over the sack. “Here. There is cleanser and a cloth for your face, other things for your comfort.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the bag and hoping he would give her at least a little privacy.

“I will be back in a few minutes,” he said. “Call out if you have need of me.”

He left then, apparently confident she wouldn’t fall in and drown in the creek if he took his eyes off her for a second.

Not wanting to get her clothes wet or ruin her new boots, Summer was careful to kneel where the bank was dry but she could still reach the water. She cleaned her teeth and used a corner of the cloth to clean her face so she wouldn’t get her shirt soaked either. 

She groomed herself as best she could and was already heading back toward the camp, the bag swung over her shoulder, making another half-hearted attempt at getting the knots out of her hair with her fingers as she walked, when he returned.

“Always does this without a load of conditioner,” she said with a self-conscious laugh and gave up. “I’m probably just making it worse.”

“The fault is mine.” He held up an intricately carved wooden comb, his grip on it gentle, almost cradling. “I meant to include it in your pack.”

“Wow.” It was hand carved, the wood a natural deep, vibrant red, the decoration lovely even in its alienness. “It’s beautiful. It looks more like art than something you use on your hair.”

“It was my mother’s.” Ke’lar held it out to her. “I gift it to you and hope it will serve to make you feel welcome on Erah lands.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed. “Well, thanks. It’s such a rat’s nest, I’m probably just going to wind up tearing half my hair out.”

She reached for the comb but before her fingers closed around it he moved with a smooth g’hir quickness, taking up position behind her.

“It is not as bad as you say,” he assured her, his body warm at her back as he took the strands between his fingers.

He deftly worked at the knots out, his alien dexterity allowing him to untangle them without so much as a tug.

“You are fair enough to be born of the Yir clan,” he rumbled, his voice like soft thunder in her ear. “Some of them have hair this bright.”

“I uh—” She cleared her throat. The brush of his fingers over the nape of her neck sent tingles running through her body. His gentle coaxing had some of the strands tamed already, the comb and his fingers sliding through her hair. “I didn’t know g’hir could be blond. I’ve only seen the Betari clan.” She looked back at Ke’lar. His hair was so dark it reflected blue in the sunlight. “And you.”

He blinked and paused in his task. “The Betari did not let you see any not of their clan? How is that possible? You should have been taken to the medical center at Be’lyn City, at the very least, for a health evaluation.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” she said shortly, facing away again. “Ar’ar kidnapped me, he imprisoned me at the enclosure, and Mirak made it clear I’d never leave it again.”

“I am sorry, Summer.” His hand smoothed her hair, his touch soothing, his rumble soft in her ear. “It was not supposed to be this way.”

“Really?” she asked, her throat tight. “How was it supposed to be then?”

“You were to be treated with all honor, cherished, respected—”

Her nostrils flared as she faced him and he dropped his hands at her glare.

“I’m a goddamn hunting prize, Ke’lar! A pelt on a floor, a head mounted on a wall. As long as I’m able to breed that’s
all
the g’hir care about.”

“That is not so! The Betari should never have treated you this way, never made you doubt your worth.”  His face worked for a moment. “Never made you fear us.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’ll take a hell of a lot more to break
me
.” Summer lifted her chin. “And I’m not afraid of the g’hir.”