Her throat tightened. “You’re my choice, Ke’lar.”
He cupped her cheek in his palm. “And I fight to prove I am worthy of you.”
“Are you ready, brother?” Ra’kur asked, joining them.
“In a moment,” Ke’lar agreed and began unfastening the jacket of his warrior clothing.
“What are you doing?” Summer exclaimed. “You guys don’t fight naked do you?”
Ke’lar froze and the looks the men gave her were priceless. If this hadn’t been so horrifying, so deadly serious, it would have been funny.
Ra’kur recovered first. “Weapons are forbidden,” he explained. “A warrior fights bare chested to show he has none hidden on him.”
“My child, Emma—” Ke’lar rumbled with an anxious glance on Ra’kur, handing over his jacket to a waiting clanbrother.
“My mate will keep her inside,” Ra’kur assured. “Far from the windows and balconies until we come for her. She will not see. It is just as well,” he rumbled. “I do not wish Jenna to witness this either.”
“You aren’t making me feel any better here, you know,” Summer said, wrapping her arms around herself.
“A challenge of this kind is no small thing, nor to be lightly undertaken,” Ra’kur said, a little sharply. “They are a relic from the time when the clans began but the number of these battles has increased since the Scourge. The enclosures have actively tried to discourage them but to little avail. There are too many warriors and too few females and we have all witnessed such battles. There are no rules but to kill your opponent. These challenges are fierce, and bloody.” Ra’kur’s face was grim. “It takes a great deal of damage for one g’hir warrior to kill another.”
Summer’s gaze snapped to Ke’lar. “I don’t think—I don’t want you to—”
“I will fight for you,” he snarled, his fangs showing. “I will not let you and Emma go to another. I will die first!”
Oh my God, he means that.
“I changed my mind.” Summer wet her lips. “I want to talk to Ar’ar.”
Ra’kur scowled in disapproval and Ke’lar went still.
“That is your right,” he agreed, but she could see it hurt him.
“Okay.” She gave a nod. “Okay.”
“It is inappropriate that I go with you”—he glanced toward the other side of the courtyard—“if you wish to speak to your mate.”
“He’s not my mate, you are,” Summer said thickly. “But—just maybe—I can convince him of that.”
“The challenge will begin shortly,” Ra’kur growled. “If you wish to speak to”—he glanced to where the Betari had gathered, to where Ar’ar stood shirtless, his molten gaze on her—“Ar’ar, you should do so now.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said to Ke’lar.
Summer could feel every eye on her as she crossed the courtyard and she wondered if she were breaking some death-battle etiquette or something.
Certainly the Betari weren’t happy to see her.
“Daughter,” Mirak greeted her with narrowed eyes and heavy sarcasm. “How honored we are you have seen fit to stand with us.”
“I need to speak to Ar’ar,” she said. “Alone.”
The Betari warriors shifted in their places, looking to their clanfather, but Ar’ar spoke first.
“Leave us.”
The men inclined their heads and after a moment, Mirak, with a bitter look at her, gave them some privacy.
“I will kill him,” Ar’ar said without preamble. “I am the mightier warrior. The better fighter.”
Summer’s eyes stung. What if Ar’ar was right? Was her happiness worth Ke’lar’s life?
“I love him. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“The Zerar took the luxury of love from us when they unleashed their plague on my people,” he growled. “Now it is about which of the g’hir are deserving enough—strong enough—to survive. The Betari must be among those who do.”
“Ar’ar, if there is one thing my time on Hir has taught me,” Summer said tightly, “it’s that surviving isn’t living. And your people have known enough killing.”
Ar’ar looked to the far side of the courtyard where the Erah stood, where Ke’lar stood, waiting for this battle to begin.
“Do you think me a monster? My heart is sick with what will result from this challenge,” he rumbled. “All that will be lost.”
“Then don’t fight it,” Summer pleaded. “You don’t have to. What if I agreed to go with you? What if—”
“No. The matter must be settled here, today. There can be no doubt to whom you belong.” His fangs bared. “And when I kill their clanbrother the Erah will hate us even more. It will not be long before our enclosures are at war.”
She shook her head. “I’m not worth a war, Ar’ar.”
“Why did you run from me?” he demanded sharply. “Why did you not tell me of the child? She is a daughter of mine—of the Betari!”
She closed her eyes briefly. “Because I had to get back to Earth to protect her. Me not being there when she was returned from a visit to her grandmother would have put Emma in great danger. I know,” she hurried to say at his frown, “you don’t understand. That something like that would never happen on Hir, but believe me, getting back to Earth—fast—was the only way to keep her safe.”
He searched her face.
“I believe you,” he rumbled at last. “I believe that you acted to protect our child. What I do not understand is why you did not trust me to protect her.”
“I think you would have—the g’hir way. You would have gone and tried to find Emma . . . if you’d known about her.”
“I will be a good mate to you, Summer,” he growled softly. “I am strong. I will protect our daughter . . . and all the offspring that follow her.”
Summer chewed the inside of her cheek. “Please don’t do this.”
His nostrils flared. “I do not have any choice.”
“We always have choices,” Summer said hoarsely.
He looked away, his face hard and set now. “Not if the Betari are to survive.”
It was clear that she wasn’t doing any good here, that she didn’t have any more chance of talking him out of this than she did Ke’lar.
Ke’lar was watching her warily, his expression guarded as she approached. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Summer?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Don’t die.”
“I dare not.” He gave a faint smile. “The All Mother has given me too much to live for and She will be much vexed if I am not here to appreciate it.”
She rested her hands on his chest, feeling the strong steady beat of his heart. “I love you.”
“And I love you . . .” he rumbled and brushed his nose against hers, then pressed a kiss to her mouth. “My sweet Summer . . .”
From the other side of the courtyard, Ar’ar came forward. Mirak and the other clanbrothers took up a place near Rotin but the Erah clanfather did not even acknowledge his rival.
“It is time,” Ke’lar said, waving his brother forward. “Ra’kur will keep you safe until this is ended.”
Ra’kur’s hand was at her elbow, seeking to draw her away, but she couldn’t make her feet move. “Ke’lar . . .”
His glowing blue gaze was steady. “I will not fail you.”
“No . . .” she whispered but Ra’kur’s hold was less gentle now, pulling her back, away from the combatants.
The men faced each other as Ra’kur hauled her up the clanhall steps.
“Wait!” Summer pleaded, pulling against Ra’kur’s hold. In the courtyard Ar’ar was already falling into a fighter’s posture. “Let me talk to them again!”
“Ar’ar!” Ke’lar roared, taking position before his opponent, his fangs fully bared. “I challenge you for the female, Summer. Will you fight me for her?”
“Let me—”
Ra’kur’s grip tightened against her struggles. “Be still,” he hissed. “Or I will take you into the clanhall!”
Ar’ar glanced her way then, his yellow gaze burning, his face savage, terrifying.
“No,” Ar’ar growled and straightened from his battle stance. “I will not.”
Twenty-seven
“You . . .” Ke’lar rumbled into the collective stunned silence, his brow furrowed, his body still tense as if suspecting a trick. “You concede?”
“Fight, Ar’ar!” Mirak urged, regarding his son in astonishment. “She is yours!”
Ar’ar shook his head. “No, she is not. We never mated. She did not surrender to it because she longed to return home, although I did not know why then, and I did not—” His throat worked for a moment. “Because I long for another.”
“Another?” Summer echoed, pulling free of Ra’kur’s hold. “You mean . . . you don’t want me?”
“I . . . desired you,” Ar’ar rumbled, his cheeks flushing, as she came to stand before him in the courtyard, and Summer suddenly realized it wasn’t her he was embarrassed to admit that in front of. “Very much. Your human beauty is astonishing but you are not . . .” His eyes were drawn to the clanhall steps, to the young black-haired Erah woman standing there who now blushed becomingly.
Ar’ar swallowed. “H’lara and I met at the wedding ceremony at the Yir enclosure during the last gathering. I have thought of little else since. . .”
The g’hir woman, H’lara, stepped forward, pushing past her astonished clanbrothers.
“And I have made my choice!” she called out in trembling defiance to the shocked crowd, to the wide-eyed Erah clanfather. “I will have no other than Ar’ar as my mate!”
Ar’ar’s face fairly glowed with joy. “H’lara . . .”
As if suddenly remembering why he was standing here shirtless, that Ke’lar still waited to tear him to pieces, Ar’ar quickly inclined his head to his opponent. “I cede all claim to this female, Summer,” he said formally. “She is yours.”
Ke’lar blinked and then he straightened, his fangs flashing in a wide grin.
“Wait—” Summer looked around at Ke’lar. “Did I just get ditched g’hir-style?”
He spread his hands, his glowing blue eyes crinkling with humor. “I was ready to fight for you.”
“I can’t believe . . . all this time you were in love with her?” Summer asked, indicating H’lara.
A look of consternation came over Ar’ar’s face. “You are a worthy female. I had hoped to be a good mate to you.” Ar’ar’s rippled brow creased. “If I had met you before H’lara—”
Summer held her hand up. “No, just stop right there. Believe me,” she assured with a glance at Ke’lar, “I’m really okay with this but . . . Okay, why did you capture me if you really loved her? Why go to Earth at all?”
Ar’ar hesitated. “It is a great honor to be chosen to hunt a mate on your world.”
Summer glanced at Mirak. “And you didn’t want to disappoint your father?”
“Ar’ar . . .” Mirak frowned at his son. “Why did you not tell me?”
“She is of the Erah clan, Father,” Ar’ar said tightly. “Our enemies, as you have said time and again. You taught me hatred of them before my milk teeth had come in.” His gaze went to H’lara, the longing in his eyes so evident it was painful. “And with so many suitors, I did not dare to hope that . . . But when we were last here, when Summer sought sanctuary, we spoke again and . . .”
“My son—” Rotin prompted.
Ke’lar glanced at his father then cleared his throat. “Of course. Ar’ar, I accept your . . .” He paused, looking as if searching for the right word. “. . . decision.”
“You concur that the matter is settled?” Rotin asked Mirak.
“It is settled,” Mirak agreed. “And,” he added with a look at his son, “we are honored to welcome your clansister, H’lara, as the Betari’s next clanmother.”
“Thank you, Father,” Ar’ar breathed. “And thank you, Summer,” he rumbled. “For reminding me that there are some things we must never let anyone, even the Zerar, take from us.”
I did?
“Oh . . . sure.” She gave a nod. “You’re welcome.”
His brow creased. “Are you offended that I lack the fire to fight for you? I would not have you and I be enemies.”
“No!” Summer said instantly. “I’m happy for you! And . . . her. And me. And that Ke’lar doesn’t have to fight you. And nobody has to die. In fact—go.” She pushed him toward H’lara. “Go be happy.”
He threw her a grateful look and lost no time crossing to where the g’hir woman eagerly awaited him.
“I suppose . . .” Mirak met Summer’s eyes hesitantly, discomfiture so out of character for the Betari’s forceful clanfather. “I was wrong to try to force a match between you and my son.”
“You suppose?” Summer echoed.
“I . . . apologize,” Mirak said as if choking on the words a bit. “I regret any pain I caused you, Summer of the Erah.”
“Pain?” she wondered. “Oh! You mean threatening to keep me captive, married against my will?” She gave an airy wave. “I can’t believe you’d even mention such a little thing!”
“Think of me what you will,” he growled, serious in the face of her sarcasm. “But to live out a life alone, for a g’hir warrior, is a pain you cannot imagine. To save our son—her son”—his amber eyes had a pained look remembering one he lost long ago to the Scourge—“from that solitary existence—to give him the hope and joy he deserves—I would do what I did again . . . and more.”
“And since our clans are going to be pals,” she said with a pointed look at Ar’ar and his soon-to-be mate, “you want my forgiveness?”
Mirak tilted his head. “Would you do it for your child? Your Emma?”
She and Ke’lar exchanged a look.
“You got me there.” Summer heaved a sigh. “And I hate to say it but—yeah, I would.” She glanced to where Ar’ar and H’lara were already brushing noses. “I’m happy for him. . . for both of them.”
“You are gracious, Mata.” He cleared his throat. “The clanmother’s jewels—”
“Right,” Summer said with a nod. “They’re in the pack I brought from your enclosure. I’m sure Jenna still has it. I’ll get them to you before you go.”
He looked at Ke’lar. “I hope she will be happy with you, and that you will value her as she deserves.”
“Wow,” Summer said, surprised. “I think you really mean that.”
“I do. And before you return those jewels, I would have you choose one for yourself.” Mirak inclined his head to her. “As a gesture of our friendship. Now, if you will excuse me, I should greet Ar’ar’s intended, the Betari’s new clanmother.”
“That was generous of him,” Ke’lar said. “To offer you such a gift of goodwill.”
“True, but if he were really thoughtful he would have left them alone for five minutes, for God’s sake,” Summer muttered, watching him walk to the pair. “How that man ever got to be a Council member with that level of tact and sensitivity, I’ll never understand.”
“I am only glad the matter is decided,” Ke’lar rumbled.
“Oh, that’s right, I’m all yours—” She grinned. “By default.”
“I would have won, my mate,” Ke’lar mock-grumbled, pulling her close. “No one would doubt you are mine.”
“Oh, believe me . . .” Summer slid her arms around his waist and lifted her face to brush a kiss against his mouth. “Nobody’s ever going to doubt that.”
Epilogue
Emma’s brow creased as she looked between Summer and Ke’lar. “She’ll be like Anna?”
“Yes,” Ke’lar rumbled solemnly, crouching down to get as close to eye level with her as he could with his height. “This baby will be like Jenna’s daughter, Anna. Half-g’hir and half-human.”
The exam room of Be’lyn’s medical center was comfortably homey and Summer didn’t want to put this news off any longer. She’d insisted they waited till they were sure, till every test the healers coul
d run showed the baby she carried was healthy, before they told Emma.
“But she’ll still be my sister,” Emma said.
“Your half-sister,” Summer corrected.
Her daughter’s face took on a look of obstinacy, her little jaw hardening in stubbornness, and Summer sighed inwardly.
Gets it from Dean.
“Don’t care if she’s half-g’hir.” Emma fixed them both with a stern look. “She’s gonna be my whole sister.”
Ke’lar’s mouth twitched, his fangs showing for an instant, but he swiftly controlled his smile.
Man, he’s going to repeat that to anyone who’ll listen . . .
“Hmmm.” Summer shifted, pressing her lips together.
Ke’lar looked up immediately. “Summer?”
Doctor Ki’san was just coming back into the exam room and his gaze went immediately to the display over her head. “The nausea has worsened?”
Her stomach was roiling, and it was a moment before she could speak.
“You know,” she gasped then took a few slow breaths to continue, “with Emma I had morning sickness maybe once but this . . .”
“Mommy?” Emma piped. “Are you okay?”
She wanted to assure her daughter, explain that it sometimes was something you had to get through when you were growing a baby, but right now all she could do was manage to hang onto the exam table and force out a pleading: “Ke’lar?”
“We must wait outside, Emma,” he said, swiftly scooping their daughter up. “So the doctor can help your mother feel better.”
Summer threw him a grateful look as he hustled the little girl out.
“And you are certain the sickness is normal for humans?” Doctor Ki’san asked.
“Absolutely. ’Course this is a little on the high side,” Summer got out. “And it usually doesn’t last so long.”
The doctor touched a few controls to adjust the display then gave a nod. “I see no reason not to administer a mild anti-nausea injection.”
“Hmmm . . . If you value your shoes you might want to hurry . . .”
Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3 Page 21
