Taken: Warriors of Hir, Book 2

by Danes, Willow

  He blinked. “Your employers assaulted you?”

  “Assaulted—? They didn’t literally throw me out. It’s an expression. They fired me.” Seeing the alarmed look in his gaze she quickly amended, “They dismissed me.”

  “Ah,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Why did they dismiss you?”

  “They had enough people who do what I do so they needed one gone. Lucky me as always, I’m the one they picked to go. Guess I’ll be blowing the dust off my résumé and finding a new job as soon as I get back.” She sighed. “I’m going to move too. I lived in that apartment before I met Brian but—I don’t know, maybe Alexandria or downtown. I’ll get a new place, a new job, put my life back together and never, ever”—she gave a short laugh—“go back to North Carolina again.”

  He regarded her for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “What were you employed to do?”

  “My job? I was a graphic designer.” From the expression on his face it was clear he had no idea what that was. “I did artwork. Commercial art, intended to get people to buy things or purchase another company’s services.”

  He tilted his head. “Were you happy in that task, Hope?”

  “Trading virtually all my waking hours to get other people to buy crap they don’t really need or want? Yeah, not so much.” She gave a short, surprised laugh. “You know, nobody’s ever asked me that—if I was happy at my job. Not even Brian. Not even the cheating tool of a boyfriend I had before him, or the one before him.”

  He gave a chin jerk. “You were not happy.”

  “No, and it’s stupid and naïve but . . .” She looked down, plucking at the shoelace of her hiking boots. “I went to art school to be an artist. The commercial stuff just sort of happened.” She sighed again. “No, it didn’t. I wanted to be an artist but so many artists can’t even support themselves. I wasn’t brave enough to say ‘screw it’ and throw myself out there like that so I took a day job thinking that I would work on my art at night. Only a day job isn’t forty hours, not really. Between commuting and oh-my-God-we-have-a-deadline hours you wind up with more like seventy hours eaten up and then you’re tired . . .” She closed her eyes. “I’m doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Making excuses. I could have made the time, cut my hours, switched jobs, but I was—am—afraid of failing.”

  “Of course you will fail.”

  Hope’s head came up. “Excuse me?”

  “You will fail.”

  “Hey, thanks,” she managed. “Wow, this is like talking to the high school guidance counselor again about my dream of being an artist. He suggested I consider medical transcription classes because—and I’m directly quoting Mr. Gernstill here—‘nobody ever makes it as an artist.’”

  R’har’s golden hair caught the light as he shook his head. “I do not mean you would be a failure, only that it is to be expected that you will not succeed every time, it is not possible. It is not even advisable—for how would you ever learn? It is necessary to fail. You must expect, even joyfully embrace, failing.”

  Hope blinked. She’d never heard of anyone failing joyfully.

  “When I was a young male and learning to hunt I often returned to the enclosure empty-handed before I earned my skills. You will fail far more often than you will succeed. As I did.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “My parents were both physicians. They were both still living when I finally decided to suck it up and go into commercial art. Those were two very successful people who absolutely didn’t want their only child to be a starving artist. Believe me, they made their thoughts on that subject very clear.”

  “Easy?” R’har gave a short huff. “Do you think an enclosure of hunters—a race of warriors—held their tongues when I returned with an empty pack?”

  “Look, we’re talking about reputation, respect—the ability to do things like pay the rent and, you know, eat.”

  “For a young male to earn the title of warrior he must eat his own killing for a year. Failure means no meat.” He gave a wry look. “And hearing every clanbrother’s opinion on the source of your ineptness.”

  “Were you ever afraid?” she blurted then flushed. The guy looked like he could break rocks with his hands, he moved like lightning. What could he possibly be afraid of?

  But he gave a nod. “There were many times venturing out into the forests, alone, I was afraid. I feared, too, returning without a kill to face the taunting of my clanbrothers. And many times I did.” His full mouth curved a little. “But one day I brought down a full-grown ruga by my own hand. I brought the beast back to the enclosure and there was enough meat from my kill that all were able to partake of it at the evening meal.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “I mean that you succeeded.”

  “It is good that I ate my fill that night! It was weeks before I managed to take another animal down.”

  “Hmm, you know,” she said with a small smile, “in the movie version you should just get to the big kill and then end the film.”

  He gave a shrug. “Life is not a legend or holotale, little one. The day after I brought down the ruga I rode out alone again. And the next season. And the next year. And often I failed.” He gave her a sly look. “But by then I had been named a warrior so failure no longer meant an empty belly. I could take my meals in the enclosure’s dining hall.”

  Hope laughed and his fangs flashed in a grin.

  He put the component down and stood, offering his hand to her. “All of this talk of meat has wakened my hunger. Come and let me offer you the hospitality my enclosure has prepared for you.”

  “So what’s all this again?” Hope asked, looking over the plate R’har set before her.

  “This is braised karlet—a forest beast that populates the mountains of our clan’s northern territory. These are greens grown at our enclosure’s fields and this is candied cali fruit, a delicacy brought from Be’lyn, Hir’s capital city.”

  “Well, it smells great,” Hope said, putting the cloth napkin on her lap and wondering briefly if aliens did that too. Apparently they did, since R’har did the same.

  “This ship was stocked by my enclosure’s future clanmother. Provisioned well to welcome you to the Yir clan.”

  “Right,” she murmured. Hope picked up the two-pronged fork he’d set beside her plate. It was far too large for her hand, looking more like a serving utensil than an eating one. She hoped she wouldn’t make a fool of herself using it.

  She managed to spear a piece of meat and get it to her mouth. The seasoning was unfamiliar, of course, as was the meat, but it was delicious. She looked up to see that he was watching her and froze mid-chew.

  Had she goofed on g’hir etiquette or something?

  “What?” she asked, covering her mouth and talking around a mouthful of braised karlet.

  “Jenna, Ra’kur’s mate, helped me choose dishes best suited to the human palate. It is my hope you will enjoy what she has chosen.”

  “Well,” she began, then chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. She couldn’t imagine it was good manners even on an alien world to talk with her mouth full. “The braised karlet rocks.”

  He blinked glowing eyes at her. “So . . . it is good then?”

  She nodded and speared another piece. “Very good. Actually it reminds me a lot of barbeque. But I guess that makes sense if this Jenna’s from North Carolina.”

  “Because she is a backwoods hick?”

  This last was said in growled English and Hope gave a short surprised laugh. “What?”

  He paused, his own fork halfway to his mouth. “You said despite the forest I had taken you from you were not a ‘backwoods hick,’” he reminded. “Since Jenna’s clan makes its home in that territory she must be a backwards hick.”

  “Oh!” Hope exclaimed, remembering how she’d insisted he drink from the goblet first, surprised he recalled the English words at all, but the logic of it worked. “I forgot I said that. Well, it was nice of her to h
elp you pick everything out.”

  “Jenna is lonely for her own kind. I know she wishes that you and she will become friends.”

  “Her own kind meaning human,” Hope said, spearing some of the greens and suddenly more than a little annoyed that this Jenna thought nothing of helping aliens kidnap other women.

  What the hell kind of person does something like that?

  “I meant female. There are so very few on our world. The son of my father’s brother will be clanfather. His mate too, looks forward to your arrival.”

  “Even though I won’t be staying?”

  He shrugged but it wasn’t an easy or casual movement. “If that is what you decide.”

  “When I woke up earlier you said that the injury to my palms when I fell in the woods was superficial,” she said, holding her water cup between her hands. “You knew I tripped, that I was crying. You were watching me, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, but I did not anticipate the animal becoming aggressive. Other furred creatures of its kind seemed to take pains to avoid contact. I assumed this one and her offspring would retreat from the area without confrontation. I should have safeguarded you better. ” He sighed. “You are not looking at me. Are you angry because I did not intervene with the animal sooner?”

  He was right; she was having a real hard time meeting his eye.

  “R’har, what I am is embarrassed. What you saw—that was a pretty low point in my life, on my hands and knees in the dirt and crying like a baby. It’s really not something I would have wanted anyone to see. Honestly, I wish if you were going to kidnap me you would have done it before you saw me fall apart like that.”

  “I delayed, seeking the right moment to capture you.” He looked uncomfortable. “They warned me not to make a mating roar, that it would distress you. But when you looked at me, when your eyes finally met mine I did not think—I could not think. I very much wish I had restrained my instincts as it caused you to fear me. And in showing you I was strong enough, fast enough, to be a good protector and a good mate to you, I think I only frightened you further.”

  “Mating roar? That’s what that was? Something that was supposed to turn me on and make me want to mate with you?”

  He dropped his gaze. “Human males do not do that to attract a mate.”

  “Nope,” Hope agreed. “They sure don’t.”

  It had been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life but now, sitting with R’har at dinner and able to understand these growls of his, it really seemed kind of funny.

  Hope gave him a little smile. “Look, it’s all right. I understand a lot—jeez, a whole lot—more now. And I guess considering that I was almost dinner for a bunch of bears, it’s lucky you came along just then.”

  “You were in no danger, little one,” he rumbled. “I had been observing you for nearly nineteen hours by that time and was always close enough to keep you safe.”

  “Nineteen—?” Hope stared. “But if that’s true it means you’d been watching me since . . . Hold on, I picked up the keys before eleven, got groceries in town and made it to the cabin—maybe noon or so? Holy cow, you were watching me the whole flipping time I was at the cabin?”

  “Flipping time?”

  Hope waved her hand impatiently. “Just answer the question. Were you watching me the whole time?”

  “I had covered that area days before and found it deserted. I intended to cross that section to continue my hunt when I observed your land vehicle arrive at the shelter. When you exited the transport and I saw you”—his eyes were alight, his mouth curving a bit—“an elegant, fine-boned female, with hair like the fire of a thousand suns . . .”

  “Oh,” Hope breathed.

  His cheeks flushed and he ducked his head.

  The redness of his face and his sudden shyness were the absolute best compliments any man had ever given her, maybe could ever give her.

  “Nineteen hours . . .” She cleared her throat; it had rained all that evening and heavily enough that the ground had been soaked the next day. “You must have been pretty miserable that night.”

  “No,” he growled, sounding surprised. “I found the inside of your shelter quite comfortable. It is a shame it was too dangerous for us to remain there. It was a pleasant enough abode.”

  “The inside of my shelter?” she repeated, her voice rising toward the end there. “Wait, you mean you were inside the cabin?”

  “Of course.”

  “You were inside the cabin with me all night?”

  “I was mindful at your bedside not to wake you.” He paused. “Have I said something to offend you?”

  “Offend me? You broke into the cabin I was staying in and watched me sleep? No, R’har, ‘offended’ is definitely not the word I would go with here! Why the hell would you do that anyway?”

  “To safeguard you, little one.”

  The scalding words that were bubbling up, the swift sharp rebuke on the invasion of her privacy, about the utter wrongness of what he’d done, caught in her throat at the innocence in his gaze.

  His brow creased. “I think your eyes are going to water again.”

  “It’s just nobody’s ever—” She gave a short laugh at the tears blurring her vision. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You are sad?” He searched her face. “Are you in pain? Afraid?”

  She shook her head. “We humans tear up when something touches us. I guess you just . . . you got me with that one. You’re so different. The way you think, just everything.”

  “There are too many reasons why human eyes water,” R’har rumbled, his frown deepening. “How will I ever tell which it is?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “For humans it’s part instinct, part learned. I guess you’d figure it out eventually but if it helps those were the ‘that was kinda sweet of you’ tears.”

  He still looked dubious but gave a human-style nod.

  “But just so you know,” she warned. “The only reason you’re getting a pass on this one is because you’re an alien. Clearly g’hir do lots of things differently but if a human guy broke into my place like that I’d get a restraining order.”

  “I do not know what that is.”

  “An order by the court to stay far away from me or suffer arrest and criminal charges. I guess the g’hir don’t have anything like that to protect women.”

  “A clan protects a female. Her mate protects her. With so few females among us and each one so precious every one of my clanbrothers would rally with me to your protection.” He reached for her, his fingers wrapping around hers. “To die for you, if necessary.”

  He and his clanbrothers would willingly sacrifice their lives for her because they—and R’har—thought she belonged to him.

  But that protection, that devotion, required trust she wasn’t sure she could ever bring herself to give to a man again, let alone an alien. If she couldn’t make it work with the human men she’d dated—even intended to marry—only disappointment and heartbreak would be waiting for her with R’har.

  She dropped her gaze and withdrew her hand from his, covering the action by reaching for her fork. There was no reason to hurt him right now by reminding him those clanbrothers wouldn’t have any reason to fight for her. There would be time enough to talk about it again when the ship was fixed and R’har could return her to Earth.

  “We better finish up,” she said. “You left that transducer in pieces, remember?”

  He gave a wry smile. “And many more repairs to complete after that component is reassembled.”

  Hope speared a bit of the alien greens with the too-large fork as R’har turned his attention to his own meal.

  But she couldn’t help taking little glances at him. At the light in his eyes, the quiet joy in his bearing, just because he thought he was going to be taking her home with him.

  Six

  R’har worked for another two hours, and while he was happy to explain what he was doing, most of it went right over her head.

&nbs
p; “We will be on emergency protocols until the repairs are completed,” he said, setting the wall panel into casing. “And the night power cycle will begin shortly. I will have to continue the work tomorrow.”

  “You sure know a lot about this stuff,” she commented, holding the panel in place for him so he could reattach it to the corridor wall.

  “It is part of the reason why I was chosen to travel to your world. I know spacecraft well,” he said as he resealed the panel. “My clan conducts a great deal of trade and I have been on many excursions.”

  Hope climbed to her feet, wiping her hands on her jeans. At least one repair was completed.

  “To other planets you mean? How many other planets have you been to?”

  R’har gave a shrug. “The g’hir have dozens of allies and there are more who are not allies but consent to trade with us. I have not kept count of the worlds I have visited.”

  “That’s actually kind of amazing,” she said, tilting her face up to meet his eye. He was huge really, tall as basketball player, burly as a linebacker but so very careful with her—as if she were beyond precious, worthy of reverence. “I mean going to whole other planets, meeting other species.”

  “Hir is a very beautiful world.” His glowing eyes were warm. “It is a great joy to me to be able to share it with you.”

  An alien planet . . .

  In a few days she would actually be standing under an alien sun. A whole new planet to explore, a whole world populated by intelligent beings to talk to and learn from. Part of her could just squeal with excitement at the chance.

  But these were also beings who thought nothing of kidnapping her and other human women too.

  “Why haven’t your people contacted ours, R’har? I don’t mean showing up and helping yourself to a woman. I mean officially.”

  “There are many who argue that is what the g’hir should do,” he said reluctantly. “That we should go to your world now in the greatest number possible and take the females we wish by force.”

  “Oh, you probably wouldn’t have to force anybody.” She tossed her hair. “If you showed yourselves openly I bet there’d be thousands of women who would go with you willingly.”