Captured: Warriors of Hir, Book 1

by Willow Danes

  “I don’t know what to say.” She was uncomfortable telling them anything about Earth. “I’ve never been anywhere else.”

  “Their space travel is limited to their own star system,” Ra’kur said.

  “A primitive culture then,” Ke’lar murmured. “With limited weaponry?”

  “But a whole lotta fight,” Jenna said sharply.

  There was an awkward pause.

  “You must try this cali fruit custard,” Rotin said, already scooping some onto her plate, and for just a moment, despite the ridges on his forehead and alien eyes, he reminded her of Pap.

  There’s nobody to put flowers on Pap’s grave. All our photos, the pocket watch Pap’s granddaddy left him, it’s all there in the cabin still. What will happen to all of it now?

  Rotin was still waiting for her to try the custard and Jenna lifted her spoon.

  “It’s wonderful,” she murmured, tasting it. The custard had a light sweetness to it and reminded her a bit of the flavor of kiwis.

  “It is made from cali fruit grown within our own enclosure.”

  “How big is the Erah enclosure?” she asked, determined to keep the topic of conversation off Earth.

  “We have fifteen hundred hectares,” Rotin said. “But our clan numbers only six hundred now.”

  And just seven of them females.

  “Is that a lot of land for an enclosure?” she asked.

  Rotin shrugged, but alien or not she could read the pride of landowner in his face. “Larger than most, not as large as some.”

  “I look forward to showing it to you,” Ra’kur said. “Although I expect there have been many changes during my absence.” He sent her a smile. “We could ride the land tomorrow. We have transports but we still ride beasts called multari, like our ancestors did. They rode similar beasts in the images.”

  “Images?” Jenna wondered.

  “The images,” he reminded. “The tale of Charles and his lifemate Nell.”

  “Oh, right,” she said with a laugh. “I forgot about that movie. The animals they rode in The Gentleman Rogue are called horses.”

  “Multari are not so different from your worlds’ horses.”

  “Well, I can ride a horse,” she said. “I guess we’ll find out how well I handle a multari.”

  Ra’kur was skillful at keeping the topic of conversation to Hir and matters important to the Erah clan for the rest of the meal.

  More sweets were served at the conclusion of the feast and Jenna noticed they were soft-textured selections—custards and stewed fruits, no cakes or pies like back home. As she sampled the various offerings, Yalar and her daughters sang for the group. The translated words were lovely but if Jenna concentrated only on what her ears were getting it just sounded like a bunch of snarls and growls.

  She also found out the hard way that the g’hir didn’t applaud at the end of a performance. Her face hot before the crowd’s startled eyes, she was forced into a quick, embarrassed explanation of that human custom.

  Light was fading from the sky. Jenna was stiff from sitting by the feast’s end and pretty worn out by the time dinner ended. Shy now in the wake of her clapping blunder, she thanked Rotin for their hospitality as people were getting to their feet.

  “There is no need to thank us,” Rotin said. “You are part of our clan, it has been our honor to welcome you home.”

  “This hand hitting is an interesting practice,” Ke’lar said quickly. “I would like to know more about human customs.”

  “I am sure there will be ample opportunity in the coming days, brother,” Ra’kur said, taking her hand. “But it has been a long day and my mate is fatigued. I must take her to our quarters.”

  Rotin gave a kindly nod but Ke’lar looked disappointed.

  “He’s not going to let this go, is he?” Jenna murmured with a look back at the dispirited young warrior as Ra’kur led her into the hallway.

  “I cannot fault him for it,” Ra’kur said ruefully. “He wishes only for what I have. For a female to pledge himself to, to build a life with.”

  Jenna suddenly found it hard to meet his eyes.

  “If he badgers you about your world, you must tell him he is just being lazy,” Ra’kur said, his tone lighter as they ascended the wide staircase to the clanhall’s second level. “You did notice that he did not volunteer to spend years spaceward in search?”

  She laughed. “You know, you’re right. Seems kinda unfair, now that you mention it. Did they make it tough on you before you left? When you decided to go out looking?”

  “You mean did any of my clan try to dissuade me from venturing out into space to search for a lifemate? Call me a fool and a madman?” He gave a grin. “Yes, little bird, every last one of them.”

  “You have a lot of courage,” she said. “To go against the grain.”

  “No,” he said softly, stopping. “I knew in my heart, even as a boy, that someday I would find you and bring you home.”

  He nodded at the open door ahead to indicate she should precede him inside.

  The living space was huge, larger than the whole of Pap’s cabin had been. The ceilings were high, white and domed, the walls a warm brown, the floor beneath a mosaic of blue and green glass tiles that glittered in the soft lighting as she explored. Furniture, suited to the larger g’hir bodies and upholstered in soft earth-toned fabrics, was placed into comfortable conversation areas around the space.

  There were bedrooms on either side of the central living area. The largest was dominated by a huge carved wooden bed and more of that plush furniture, the smaller ones clearly meant for children. There were two private bathrooms. The one off the master bedroom was done in ocean blue and teal tiles and featured a sunken bath as deep and wide as a hot tub. The apartment had a small kitchen—though none of the equipment there looked familiar—and a balcony that ran the length of the entire outer wall.

  “Wow,” she breathed, her eyes wide. “These are your quarters?”

  He laughed. “These are our quarters. An unmated warrior, even a son of the clanfather, does not warrant living space such as this.”

  “So this is for my benefit.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “They’re going to a lot of trouble for me.”

  “They want you to be happy in your new home,” he growled softly. “As do I.”

  She stepped out onto the balcony to look out over the land.

  “Clanfather . . .” She looked up at him as the realization hit. “Ra’kur, are you in line to be the clan’s leader?”

  “I am the eldest,” he agreed. “Someday I will be clanfather and you will take your place beside me to lead. It has been many years since the Erah had a clanmother.”

  Jenna wet her lips. “I get that being a clanmother must be a big deal, a huge honor, but everything here is so different. I feel so”—she gave a short laugh—“alien. I’m not sure where my place is anymore. I mean to me it’s like one minute I had two feet square on my own land and the next I woke up on another planet. Right now, I feel really . . . lost.”

  Hir’s moons shone cool light over the forests of the Erah enclosure’s territory below and she leaned against the balcony wall.

  “And I just—I don’t know what I’d do here,” she said finally, a lump forming in her throat, knowing those smaller bedrooms would never be used.

  “You can do anything, my Jenna. Females filled every profession and level of influence before the Scourge. They have even more freedom to choose now. Half the ruling council of Hir is female and I would deny you nothing that brought you joy.” He tilted his head. “What were you going to do on Earth?”

  “Well . . . I have a degree in business but I used to have a bakery in Asheville called The Sweet Tooth. It was doing pretty well too. I was actually thinking about opening another in Charlotte. But when Pap got sick I couldn’t keep up with everything and take care of him proper like I ought; I sure as hell wasn’t gonna to hire a stranger to tend him so I closed the doors. That broke him up the worst, you
know, feeling that him getting sick cost me my business. We talked about it before he went.” She swallowed hard at the memory, looking out at the moonlit land of this other world. “He wanted me to reopen, sell the land he left me and use all that money to take The Sweet national, to get back all I lost and more besides.”

  Ra’kur wrapped his arms around her waist, his body warm against her back. “I recall the confections you made for me. The brownies. The hummingbird cake. The cooks.”

  “Cookies,” she corrected, smiling. “They’re called cookies.”

  “You could do that here, if you like. The clan will purchase property for you in Be’lyn City, or another city, if you prefer.”

  “Expand my bakery brand to an alien planet?” she asked as she turned toward him. “Somehow that didn’t make it onto my original business plan.”

  “The g’hir will enjoy the confections,” he promised. “You will be very successful.”

  “Yeah, there’s the little matter of reaching my suppliers,” she said, thinking of how different the foods were here, how she hadn’t even recognized the kitchen equipment in the galley of his ship or here in the apartment. “I don’t have the ingredients to make the things I used to have at The Sweet Tooth.”

  “Could you not then make confections from things we have here?” he asked, taking her hands in his. “But made your way?”

  “Maybe,” she allowed. “But everything’s back there, on Earth. All my recipes and cookbooks. And everything of Pap’s too, and things his folks left him. Photos of me and him, of my parents and Becca, too.” She swallowed hard. “Things are so different here. There’s three moons over my head, for god’s sake! I’d have to relearn how to cook, figure out how to bake things I did before or invent new ways of doing it.”

  “If you want to do this, if it will make you happy,” he said, touching his forehead to hers, “then you will do it.”

  In fact she had the feeling that the Erah clan—Ra’kur really—would keep any business she opened going indefinitely, even if she was a huge flop, just to keep her happy.

  He shouldn’t have to do that, try so hard to make a life for her here. That was her responsibility.

  And that was the real problem. She couldn’t be half here and half on Earth, just halfheartedly committed to Ra’kur. It wasn’t fair to either one of them.

  “What if”—she wet her lips—“what if I wanted to go home? Go back to my own world?”

  He went very still. “Do you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t know what I want yet.” She put her hands on his chest. “But . . . but if I choose Earth?”

  His face was grave. “I cannot live with you there, my Jenna.”

  She dropped her gaze. “I know,” she said quietly.

  Gently he tilted her face up to look into her eyes.

  “Nothing means more to me than your happiness, little bird,” he said hoarsely. “If you chose Earth . . . I vow to you, I will take you back.”

  “Okay.” Jenna let her breath out. “Okay.”

  “You have not seen much of my world. Hardly anything but healers and the hospital. Please,” he said, his voice strained, “do not make your choice yet. Let me show you what my world—what I—can offer you.”

  Fifteen

  Jenna had ridden her share of horses but that didn’t mean she was sure about handling a multari.

  First off, the damned thing was the size of a Clydesdale. Intimidating enough, but it also had disconcerting glowing yellow eyes that were looking right back at her now with about as much confidence in her ability to ride it as she was feeling.

  Ra’kur, too, was regarding her with concern. “Jenna?”

  “It looks like one of those creatures from the ancient Greek myths,” she said. “You know, the ones that have a homing beacon set on Hades?”

  “This one is a most mild-tempered beast,” Ke’lar assured, patting the thing’s neck affectionately. “Her mouth is tender and she is obedient.” He gave a slight smile. “I would not endanger my brother’s mate—and risk my only hope to learn the location of your world.”

  Jenna reached a cautious hand toward the multari to stroke the warm buff-colored hair of the creature’s long nose. The multari gave a snort, her yellow eyes rolling a bit, her hooves shifting restlessly.

  Ra’kur hadn’t mounted yet, confidently holding the reins of his own fearsome-looking dun-colored multari. “We do not have to ride, little bird. We can take ground transport instead.”

  Considering how thickly forested the enclosure was, she already knew that the view from the road of a ground transport would be mainly trees blurring by. They would be better off walking.

  “No,” she said, forcing confidence into her voice simply because the multari was listening. “I’m going to ride.”

  “Let me help you,” Ra’kur said, ready to hand the reins of his animal to Ke’lar.

  “Nope,” she said. She was wearing dark green trousers, jacket, and boots not so different from Ra’kur’s usual clothes for their outing. The leather of her clothing was very soft and supple, the cut quite suitable to a female figure. “I can do this on my own.”

  Just like with a horse, she went to the left side and put her foot into the stirrup. She was lucky she was tall or she would have needed a mounting block to even get on the thing. Even with her height she had to bounce a bit to get high enough to use the muscles of her thigh to swing over.

  But she managed to get into the saddle by herself.

  Despite her best intentions her fingers were trembling a bit as she took the reins from Ke’lar. The multari shifted, all anxiety and restless muscles underneath her as Ke’lar adjusted the stirrup length to suit her better. She swallowed hard at how far away the ground was as he stepped back. She wouldn’t want to take a fall from this height and she felt a little dizzy from imagining it.

  Ra’kur swung up into the saddle easily. “We will go slowly,” he promised. He turned his multari and nudged it a bit with his heels to get it going. “There is a place I especially wish to show you, but it is not far.”

  Too nervous to answer, Jenna gave a quick nod, her heart giving a jump as the multari started at a walk.

  As they left the buildings and gardens of the enclosure and ventured into the surrounding forest Jenna tried to shift her focus from the huge, powerful beast she was riding to the alien world around her.

  Ra’kur was right, it wasn’t so very different from earth in that plants were green, the sky was blue; she could almost believe she was somewhere back home enjoying a beautiful spring day bathed in sunshine. Except of course Hir had two suns, one much paler and farther from the planet than the other, making that golden light. The flowers that carpeted the open fields were glorious pinks, purples, and blues and a group of tangerine-colored birds hopped nearby pecking at the ground.

  “Does it snow here?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Ra’kur said with a smile. “Traditionally the clan gathers at first snowfall, and other than to tend the beasts, the g’hir customarily stay within the enclosure until the weather warms. Winter is a time of storytelling, crafts, and marriages.” His smile turned rueful. “But marriages are rare now.”

  “So . . . there’s a difference between lifemating and marriage?”

  “Lifemating is first and private,” he said with a wolfish grin. “Marriage comes after and is public. Marriages are done at midwinter only. It used to be that a female would travel to the enclosure for the first snow and remain with her chosen until midwinter. If they had lifemated, there would be a marriage. If not,” he shrugged, “she would return to her clan or depart for another enclosure.”

  “I guess that’s kind of like dating,” Jenna offered. “Getting to know a prospective mate.”

  “Our date was very enjoyable. I am glad I could honor your customs.”

  She blinked. “Our date? When did we have a date?”

  “Dinner.” He tilted his head. “A movie. Fucking.”

  He w
as in absolute earnest and Jenna had to bite the inside of her cheek not to laugh. “Yeah, I liked it too.”

  ’Course if memory serves we didn’t actually make it all the way through the movie. . .

  “So, that’s nice,” she said, “that everyone gathers to spend the winter together.”

  “Our kind has always done so. Our archeological records show even our ancestors did. In spring we venture out to gather and hunt. That was the hardest time for me—winter,” he said. “When I knew the others were gathering and I would not be with them.”

  “Because you were in space.”

  “I do not regret it.” His eyes had a funny look to them when they met hers. “No matter what comes.”

  “When you were out searching did you uh . . . find any other females, besides me?”

  “I found females who were attractive,” he said reluctantly. “But none that were compatible.” His face flushed a bit. “None that I could lifemate to.”

  But he tried.

  “You know what?” she muttered, jamming her heels sharply into the multari’s sides. “Let’s try riding faster.”

  She got her multari up to what felt like a trot and Ra’kur matched her pace. The forest became denser so that they were forced to ride singly; then suddenly they were out from the treeline and Jenna drew her breath deeply in appreciation. The land sloped downward slightly to a clear lake and in the distance the majestic snow-capped mountains ringed the valley.

  He reined in and threw her a smile. “What do you think, little bird?”

  “You were right; your world is beautiful.” She gave a laugh. “You know, this is the perfect spot for a picnic.”

  “What is that?”

  “A meal, eaten outside,” she said. “Usually you bring a blanket and spread it out, then just eat and lie around and be lazy.”

  He gave a nod, his eyes shining. “We will do so on our next ride.”

  She looked at the lake. “Can we swim in it?”

  His smile widened. “If you like.”

  “Why do I suddenly have the feeling that your people don’t have swimsuits?” She had her answer from the quizzical look he gave her. “Usually my people wear something specially designed for swimming. The fabric is tight and stretchy and dries fast. Going swimming with nothing on is called ‘skinny dipping.’”