It wasn’t a matter of if her “mate” would find her missing; it was when. And the real question was just how badly he’d react when he found her gone.
Probably pretty fucking badly . . .
Ar’ar bared his fangs at every male who came near her, even his own brothers. As far as he was concerned, she was his.
If he caught her she might very well wish she’d fallen from the ledge instead—as would anyone who assisted her escape.
’Course she knew better than to trust any of these beasts . . .
Two days of crying and pleading to be returned to Earth hadn’t gotten her anywhere but then she’d wised up. Ar’ar was the Betari’s heir. When she’d actually calmed down enough, she’d made a big show of interest in seeing her “new home.” Ar’ar would someday be their clanfather and was proud as hell of it too so it didn’t take much eye-batting to convince him to show her all around the Betari clan’s settlement. She’d cooed over the buildings and stables and gardens of what the g’hir called an enclosure, so she knew her way around pretty well now.
But more importantly, she’d come up with a way out.
She’d also finally put her tears to good use too, three nights ago publicly sobbing to Ar’ar at the evening meal—before two hundred clanbrothers and his father in the clanhall’s soaring dining room—that human women needed alone time and he never permitted her to go anywhere unescorted. Bewildered and embarrassed, Ar’ar insisted she could go wherever she wanted, even without him—provided she didn’t leave the enclosure.
Similar to a village on Earth, the enclosure had been built around the well—now an ornate fountain—where the clan’s ancestors had gathered to draw water. The oldest, and most important, buildings were located around that central fountain with other structures built farther out as needed. Since the plague struck, the sudden fall in population had left a number of these buildings—especially those on the outer perimeter—empty.
Beyond this settlement, for miles upon miles, lay wild forest controlled by Ar’ar’s clan—and her only way out of their territory.
Well, short of trying to steal a transport ship she didn’t know how to operate. Ar’ar hadn’t been quite confident enough to teach her how to do that.
The enclosure grounds were patrolled by clanbrothers but she hadn’t been able to discover how the Betari timed those rounds.
Which left getting past those watchful aliens and into the forest all about plain, dumb luck.
There weren’t any guards visible from her place in the clanhall’s outside doorway, so hopefully wherever they were they couldn’t see her either. She broke from the clanhall and ran to the next building, concealing herself in the shadow it cast. She paused there a moment, her palms pressed to the rough stone, her blood thundering in her ears, but no warrior cried out at the sight of Ar’ar’s human female roaming the grounds in her nightgown.
She winced against the stones bruising her feet as she trotted from building to building, from shadow to shadow, until, shaking, breathing hard from effort and fear, she made it to the outermost structure of the enclosure.
A family home before the plague struck, located only paces from the edge of the forest, it was here that she’d secreted a pack filled with the supplies she’d pilfered over the last few days.
Ducking inside, already yanking the nightgown off, Summer allowed herself a tight smile. With so few females, g’hir women usually dressed as girly as you could get: long embroidered gowns, sparkling jewels, elaborate hairstyles, delicate shoes.
As the heir’s mate she’d been expected to dress like that every day. It was amazing really, what you could conceal under what looked a lot like an alien prom dress . . .
Getting the clothing out here, even the boots, had been easy. The clan had given her a full wardrobe, already prepared for whatever human mate Ar’ar hunted down, though the fit wasn’t perfect. The shirt, pants, jacket, and boots she changed into had been intended for her to use when riding multari—Hir’s equivalent of horses. The food too was a snap; it was plentiful and available to her at all hours in Ar’ar’s quarters as well in the clanhall’s dining room.
Summer’s lip curled. As a fertile human female, capable of reproducing with the g’hir, she was precious breeding stock; they weren’t about to let her go hungry.
And she knew now they sure as fuck were never going to let her go home.
Another change of clothing, rolled into a tight roll, lay at the bottom of the pack but mostly it held food. She stuffed her nightgown inside and fastened the bag. She wouldn’t need a nightie for her trek through the forest but she wasn’t going to leave anything behind that might hint at the direction she’d gone either.