He wished he had asked Jenna more about their customs. When his brother’s mate had first arrived on Hir, he had been so eager to learn all he could of that distant planet that he had pestered her often.
But the news from the selection committee that he would not even be permitted to compete, that he would never journey to that world and had no hope of hunting a mate there, had discouraged him so that he ceased his badgering.
Was he a fool to hope that it was not a g’hir mate but Ar’ar himself that Summer found undesirable?
She did not seem afraid of him. She had asked his help, accepted his touch as he treated her injuries. She spoke easily with him, laughed with him.
Perhaps . . .
Ke’lar edged a little closer to her.
She said she did not mind if he slept here, if he shared the bed with her. Had she meant it as an invitation? He had so little experience with females, and less still with human ones, he did not wish to offend her or, worse, frighten her.
Ke’lar shifted the covers just enough to ease himself into the bed beside her.
She did not wake. She was cool against him—a human’s body temperature was naturally lower—and he trembled with desire to feel her curves, his penis already hard as he fitted his body to hers, lubricating in anticipation of mating. He bent his head to where her neck met her shoulder, breathing in her scent deeply. Instinctively a rumble-purr of desire sounded in his chest and she, still asleep, responded with a moan, turning toward him. He could scent her instant arousal.
Her bright hair was silky against his cheek, the blood thundering in his ears as she softened against him.
He groaned, wanting so much to stoke that heat in her, ease her to wakefulness and pleasure . . .
Her offer to let him sleep beside her may have been an invitation to mate . . . or not. He had to know she wanted this as much as he did.
That meant it could not be now; it could not be tonight.
As much as he wanted her . . .
He had seen her fear of Ar’ar, witnessed for himself the injuries and suffering she had endured to flee him.
I must wait. I must be sure.
He was trembling with the effort it took to hold back but a mate bonding could not be undone. With slow, deep breaths, he quieted the rumble-purr of his arousal and with it she quieted too. He would find the strength to be patient, to draw her to him slowly, to learn how she needed him to court her . . . how a human would court her.
It might cost him everything to win her.
He cradled her against him, contentment blossoming in his chest just to hold her.
You are worth that and more . . .
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.