Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3

by Danes, Willow

  “No, it’s not! Aren’t you fucking listening?” Summer cried. “I want to go home—and home is Earth!”

  “I am listening,” Rotin said with such patient dignity that Summer felt her face flush in embarrassment. “You have asked for sanctuary in my clanhall, Mata,” he reminded, using the g’hir way of addressing an honored female. “This is a very serious matter. One I must consider carefully to ascertain if there is cause to grant it.”

  He really did seem to be trying to help her. Summer gave a—human—nod. “I understand.”

  “Has Ar’ar mistreated you, Mata?” Rotin asked again.

  Summer wet her lips. It would be a lie, a big whopper of one, since Ar’ar had never threatened her, never used his considerable strength to hurt her. Everything he’d done was in accordance with Hir law and custom.

  But that didn’t make it right.

  At her silence Rotin regarded her gravely. “Then I do not see cause to grant you sanctuary here.”

  “Father,” Ke’lar began urgently, “Summer will not be permitted to choose. Even if she choses to return to her world the Betari will announce that she has chosen Ar’ar!”

  “You lie!” Ar’ar roared, rounding on Ke’lar.

  “You are the ones who lie!” Ke’lar snarled, his fangs fully bared.

  “This is my clanhall!” Rotin stepped forward. “And I will have no bloodshed within it!”

  Ar’ar’s fangs gleamed in the light. “Then come outside, thief. Let me spill your blood there,” he taunted. “Let your lies seep away with your lifeforce!”

  “My son—” Mirak placed his hand on Ar’ar’s arm. The Betari heir resisted for a moment, his furious eyes fixed on Ke’lar, then allowed his father to draw him back.

  Rotin turned his attention to Summer, his crinkled pale alien eyes kind but with the same lingering sadness all the g’hir carried.

  “Is this true?” he asked. “Did your mate say he would not honor your choice?”

  “It wasn’t Ar’ar.” Summer glanced at the Betari’s clanfather. “It was Mirak who said that to me.”

  “My father would never—!”

  Rotin held up a palm to Ar’ar to silence him and regarded Mirak with a raised eyebrow.

  The Council member didn’t even blink. “Naturally her decision on the Choosing Day will be honored. It is the law.”

  “That’s not what you told me a few days ago!” Summer snapped, her face hot. “You told me I was staying with Ar’ar no matter what I decided!”

  “I believe you misunderstood me,” Mirak said coolly. “Daughter.”

  Summer’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, man, you are some piece of work, Councilor!”

  “You vow that this young woman will have her Day of Choosing?” Rotin asked pointedly, indicating Summer. “That your clan will honor her decision?”

  “Of course.” Mirak inclined his head. “You have my word.”

  “Then,” Rotin said gravely, “I cannot lawfully grant sanctuary. I must refuse your request.”

  Her throat closed at the unfairness of it, at the wrongness of it. Who was he—who were any of them—to determine where she should go, what she should do?

  “I can’t believe this!” Summer cried, her hands clenching. “You’re just going to send me back with them? No matter what I want?”

  “Father,” Ke’lar urged, “I implore you to reconsider! Allow her to remain with us, under our protection—”

  “Ar’ar is her mate, my son,” Rotin said, frowning. “He is within his rights under the law.”

  Like his right to Emma!

  She could see it in Ke’lar’s eyes, how he was on the verge of telling them about Emma. His father might be an honorable man but clearly he was one that would obey Hir law and the law declared Emma belonged to Ar’ar—and the Betari.

  Quickly Summer gave the tiniest of headshakes, warning him to stay silent, and Ke’lar’s jaw hardened in grim acknowledgment.

  His eyes flashed blue fire as he turned his gaze to Ar’ar. “Summer stays here!”

  “Summer is mine!” Ar’ar snarled, his fangs showing as he released her arm to confront Ke’lar. “Do you challenge me for her?”

  Jenna’s chocolate eyes rounded with horror. Her mate quickly drew her back, out of danger, as Ke’lar leapt forward and Ra’kur put himself protectively between Jenna and the two snarling warriors.

  “He does not.” Rotin sent a warning glance but his son’s attention was fixed on Ar’ar.

  Ke’lar roared, his fangs fully bared, his body shifting to a fighting stance as Ar’ar too readied for battle.

  “This female belongs to the Betari!” his father shouted. “I forbid this challenge!”

  “Take her from me, Ke’lar,” Ar’ar growled. “If you can!”

  Summer’s heart hammered in her chest, her ears still ringing from Ke’lar’s roar, her stomach rolling at what was about to happen. God knew she didn’t want this but there was no other way. If Ke’lar won her in this barbaric fight, she could stay here with him. He was the only one who knew—he understood—about Emma, that her baby needed her, that she had to get home and fast. He would let her go back to Earth, back to her baby and—

  His gaze met hers then and the blue fire in his eyes went cold as moonlight.

  “No,” Ke’lar growled, straightening. “As my father commands, I acknowledge your claim to this female, Ar’ar. She is yours.”

  Sixteen

  The breath rushed out of Summer’s lungs as Ke’lar inclined his head respectfully to the Betari heir.

  “What?” Summer pushed forward. “What are you doing? You’re just going to—You promised you’d—”

  “There is nothing to be done,” Ke’lar interrupted sharply. “This is the decision of the clanfather.” He glanced at his sire. “To disobey is to defy clan directive.”

  “You don’t mean this, you can’t—” Her hands clenched and her voice rose. “You promised!”

  “Whatever he promised,” Ar’ar growled, drawing her to his side possessively, “he had no right to. You are my mate.” He addressed the Erah clanfather. “Your son wronged me by keeping her from me. He has broken the truce and offended my clan. He has endangered one most precious to us.”

  His face grieved, Rotin addressed his younger son. “You were aware that Ar’ar sought his mate? You were aware that she was missing? That her clan feared greatly for her?”

  Ke’lar blinked. “Father, she asked for my help, for our help—”

  “Did you have any reason to believe that she had been or would be mistreated by her mate?” his father persisted.

  Ke’lar’s eyes were stormy.

  “No,” he growled finally.

  “You knowingly—and unlawfully—kept a female from her mate?”

  “Yes,” he fairly spat.

  “Then you leave me no choice, my son.” Heaviness seemed to settle on Rotin’s shoulders. “Ke’lar of the Erah,” he intoned, “for these acts you are banished from the clanhall—”

  At Summer’s side Ar’ar smirked.

  “Banished!” Ra’kur exclaimed, instantly stepping forward to his brother’s defense. “Father, you cannot—”

  “—until the snows have come twice,” the clanfather finished.

  There was an instant of silence.

  “Hardly a lengthy punishment,” Mirak growled, nettled, “for such a serious crime.”

  “I acknowledge the wrong done your clan,” the clanfather said, his voice carrying so that everyone within the hall could hear. “My son will not be permitted within these walls again until the following gathering. But,” he said, his eyes cold on his rival, “Ke’lar protected your clandaughter. He has brought what is yours safely here.”

  “But not—” Mirak pointed out sharply, “—brought her to us.”

  “Your daughter is returned, nevertheless,” the clanfather said, indicating Summer at Ar’ar’s side. “She is safely under her mate’s protection once more and our treaty renewed.”

  He’s not
my mate!

  She wanted to cry out, to rage at them all, but she knew it would do no good. There were still eighteen days to her Choosing Day, plenty of time for Ar’ar to make her his.

  The two men regarded each other for a moment and the tension was palpable.

  Finally Mirak gave a stiff nod.

  “May the All Mother watch over you,” Rotin said to Ke’lar, who stood, his nostrils flared, to receive his father’s blessing, “until your banishment is at an end and you may again enter this hall.”

  “Be well, my brother,” Ra’kur growled heavily. “Know that upon your return to us this transgression will be forgotten—and forgiven.” Ra’kur put a hand on Ke’lar’s shoulder. “I will await you at the very center of the clanhall, as always.”

  Ke’lar expression was stormy then he inclined his head toward Ra’kur. “I am grateful for it.”

  “Ke’lar—!” she croaked as he turned away.

  “The clanfather has made his decision. I have acknowledged Ar’ar’s claim to you,” he said tightly without looking at her.

  “You said you would help me.” She shook her head. Was he really going to walk out of here? Was he really going to leave her? “Goddamn it, I trusted you!”

  “I am a warrior of Hir and will act as one.” Ke’lar’s mouth thinned. “I am sorry. There is nothing more I can do for you now.”

  Emma!

  “No, actually there is one more thing you can do for me, Ke’lar,” Summer spat. “You can rot in hell!”

  He looked at her with hard, alien eyes. “I am banished for your sake. I am a pariah to my clan and damned to a solitary existence for nearly two years. Think of that when you think to curse me.”

  Her eyes stung as he left the hall without even a backward glance.

  “Come,” Ar’ar said. “Our transport ship awaits.”

  “Why, you can’t leave now!” Jenna moved swiftly to block their exit. “Summer and I haven’t seen each other in just about forever! And besides—this is no way to send y’all home. It just wouldn’t be right neighborly of us.” The g’hir looked at her blankly and Jenna offered a girlish shrug. “It’s a southern thing.”

  Summer stared at Jenna. What the hell was she doing? Sure, they’d both grown up in North Carolina, but right now her friend sounded like a deranged Scarlett O’Hara.

  “What would the human custom be?” Ra’kur asked, his brow furrowing. “We would not wish to offend the Betari clanmother—nor they you, I am sure—by ignoring the customs of your homeworld.”

  “Well, they should stay to supper, of course! And to pass the evening in good company. The night as well if it gets too late and we all get to talking.” Jenna smiled around sweetly at them all. “Summer and I played together when we were little, believe it or not. It’s been a long time since we saw each other. We got us lots to catch up on.”

  “A feast.” Rotin gave a firm nod. “To celebrate the renewal of our treaty.”

  Jenna spread her hands. “What do you say? After all, there’s no way our clans should be enemies when your new clanmother and I are friends.”

  Mirak looked ready to refuse but Ar’ar spoke first. “We would be honored to feast with the Erah,” he growled, inclining his head. “As I told Ke’lar when we last met, I have long wished our enmity to be at an end.”

  “We will remain for this human custom of being”—and here Mirak growled the English word—“‘neighborly.’”

  “Tell you what,” Jenna began and glanced at the young g’hir woman who hovered nearby. “H’lara, why don’t you go get the kitchen going on supper for everybody? Ra’kur, would you see to our honored guests while I take Summer upstairs to get cleaned up?” She gave her friend’s road-worn clothes a meaningful look. “I’m sure I can find something pretty of mine that you can wear.”

  The g’hir exchanged puzzled looks and Jenna gave an airy wave.

  “It’s customary on Earth for friends to swap clothes and share outfits,” she assured the men, steering Summer toward the stairs.

  “I will come with you,” Ar’ar said with a glance at Summer. “I would not have her lost to me again.”

  Jenna gave a light laugh. “I hope you aren’t suggesting I would lose her on the way to getting dressed for the party?”

  He hesitated, clearly not wanting to offend the next Erah clanmother.

  “Tell you what,” Jenna offered. “Let me help Summer get washed up and changed and we’ll meet y’all back down here lickity-split, ’kay?”

  “I assure you,” Ra’kur offered solemnly, “your mate will not leave the clanhall while in my Jenna’s company.”

  “I trust your intentions but Summer is my responsibility. These men,” Ar’ar said, waving four Betari warriors forward, “will escort her and act as her guards.” He addressed his clanbrothers. “You will accompany her everywhere. You are not to leave her alone for a moment.”

  “Not even in the bathtub?” Jenna asked, one hand on her hip.

  Ar’ar’s cheeks flushed. “You will, of course, observe decorum.”

  “And wait outside in the hallway while we get dressed,” Jenna said pointedly. She urged Summer toward the staircase. “My quarters are three floors up and don’t you worry,” she said to Ar’ar over her shoulder as they started up the stairs, “unless Miss Summer here sprouts wings before we get to my rooms, she ain’t going anywhere.”

  Jenna’s quarters were gorgeous—richly furnished with a huge carved bed and complete with a balcony that ran the length of the suite, offering a sweeping view of the Erah territory. Birdsong could be heard from the forest below; in the distance the Te River curved beneath the shadow of the majestic snow-capped Zun Mountains.

  Somewhere in those mountains lay the cave that had sheltered her and Ke’lar during the storm as it millennia ago had sheltered ancient g’hir . . .

  He left me! He left Emma too, for all that nonsense about thinking of her as his daughter. He followed his clanfather’s orders like—like a—

  Summer swallowed hard. A g’hir.

  Damn it, what did I expect anyway? That he’d really put me over his clan? That he could ever love me like a human man could?

  She and Jenna hadn’t talked on the way here. Something about having four towering alien warriors marching behind them inhibited conversation.

  Jenna wasn’t kidding about leaving them outside either. She shut the big heavy door firmly right in those warriors’ faces and as soon as it was closed Jenna grabbed her in a big hug.

  “Thank the All Mother you’re all right!”

  “The ‘All Mother’?” Summer echoed, untangling herself from Jenna’s embrace to stare at her.

  Jenna laughed. “Sorry! Just used to saying it these days, I guess.”

  “Right,” Summer murmured. “How long have you been here?”

  “Since January. And now it’s, uh—”

  A troubled look crossed her friend’s face.

  Jenna didn’t know the date back home.

  “It’s December,” Summer said quietly. “December seventeenth.”

  Jenna glanced toward the balcony, out at the warm, spring afternoon on Hir. “Guess I must’ve lost track of time . . .”

  “And gone all belle of the county,” Summer pointed out. “What was all that down home crap? I’m surprised you didn’t try to lead the reel.”

  Jenna gave a faint smile. “Guess I get it from Pap. He used to get all folksy when he was trying to charm people. Always worked too, he could charm a snake right out of its skin.”

  “Yeah,” Summer said, shifting her weight. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to the funeral. This winter’s the first time I’ve been back to Brittle Bridge since before—Anyway, I know how close you and your grandfather were. Losing him had to be hard.”

  “It was.” A sheen of tears showed in her friend’s chocolate brown eyes for a moment, then her gaze focused on Summer. “God, it really has been since forever since I’ve seen you. How long has it been? Four years?”

  “Five,
” Summer corrected. “But finishing college, and you know . . .”

  “The Sweet Tooth,” Jenna agreed. “And after Pap got sick, selling the bakery and moving home, taking care of him . . .” She waved her hand. “Never mind all that now. Are you okay? I mean . . . no one’s hurt you?”

  “Hurt—? Nobody’s raped me if that’s what you’re asking,” Summer said, frowning. “But no, Jenna, I would say I am decidedly not okay.” Her glance went over her childhood friend. She looked healthy, a little heavier than she had been the last time she’d seen her, ’course it had been a while, but Jenna had never been so . . . positively glowing. “You seem all right though.”

  “I’m great.” Jenna face melted into a smile. “And Ra’kur is—”

  “Wait—” Summer shook her head. “You mean you like it here? You actually want to be on Hir?”

  “Come here.” Jenna caught her hand, tugging her along. “You need to meet somebody.”

  The bedroom was large, unmistakably feminine with furnishings fit for a princess. In an elaborate hand-carved crib lay a sleeping baby, perhaps a few months old, with warm brown hair and a daintily rippled forehead.

  Oh. My. God.

  “This is Anna,” Jenna murmured, looking lovingly down at the infant.

  “She’s yours?” Summer blurted stupidly. “Yours and uh . . .”

  “Ra’kur’s,” Jenna supplied and when she spoke his name she did it with the g’hir roll to it.

  The baby responded to her mother’s voice by pursing her lips but didn’t wake up.

  “Congratulations,” Summer said faintly, her hand going to her solar plexus.

  Jenna lightly smoothed away one of the baby’s curls then indicated the doorway. Summer left the room on wooden legs, waiting as Jenna eased the door to the nursery closed behind them.

  “I know this is all upsetting—” Jenna began.

  “Upsetting?” Summer broke in. “I mean, Ar’ar kept going on and on about us having children—they all did—like they were sure it was going to happen, but I guess I just—” Her knees seemed to give out and she sank down onto one of the room’s plush chairs. “I just didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t think that g’hir and humans could actually reproduce, but if you—”