“Rest,” he whispered, his warm breath against the sensitive skin of her ear sending little shivers through her. So close to her she couldn’t help breathing in his scent, warm, male, with overtones of cinnamon. “I will come for you as soon as they have gone.”
They were a despicable race—these g’hir—hideous with their alien rippled foreheads and unnerving glowing eyes, their fangs and hulking brawn. Summer would never forgive what they had done to her, how Ar’ar had swooped in with the full knowledge and approval of his people to tear her from her home, her family, her whole life . . .
But this one, Ke’lar, was the first of their species to show her any real kindness, the first to show some respect for her rights and wishes. Knowing that a half-dozen warriors lurked nearby watching him, that they would kill him if they discovered that he sheltered her from them—
She touched his arm just as he was turning to leave, the light brown leather of his warrior’s jacket soft under her fingers.
He stopped, his glowing blue eyes blinking down at her.
He must have read the gratitude in her eyes because he gave a faint smile and gently pressed her hand with his own for a moment. Then he left the shelter, careful to close the fabric door completely behind him this time.
Summer shifted a bit, slowly, trying to keep her movements silent. The sleeping pallet was incredibly comfortable. Wide and long, it was meant to accommodate his greater size so she had plenty of space; the pillow under her head smelled faintly of him. Outside she could hear the sound of the river, the splash of water running over the rock, the call of birds from the nearby forest.
She could hear him too—Ke’lar—moving about outside the shelter. She couldn’t see him, of course, and so had no way of telling what tasks he tended to. To her ears at least, his movements seemed unhurried, perfectly at ease, as if he had dismissed the encounter with the Betari clanbrothers from his mind and had turned his attention to the simple work of maintaining his campsite.
But he was g’hir too, a hunter like the rest of them. There were times that she didn’t hear him at all.
She wished he’d whistle or play music or listen to the equivalent of whatever the g’hir had for a ballgame. Now that she’d stopped moving, that she had to stay here, quiet and still, every bump and bruise, every scrape and blister, made itself known. She hurt all over. The lightest shift on the pallet made every overtaxed muscle cry out in protest and she had to press her lips together to silence a moan.
And if it hurts today, it’s sure as hell going to hurt worse tomorrow. God, what I wouldn’t give for a couple Advil . . .
And this was supposed to be my vacation.
At least that had been the idea. Two weeks at her uncle’s cabin, some time to unwind and relax while he headed out to Florida for some sunshine, a nice quiet old-fashioned Christmas in North Carolina then back up to Virginia—
Summer let her tired eyes fall shut and found herself listening for Ke’lar again as he moved about outside the shelter. Just knowing he was nearby, that he was standing between her and capture by Ar’ar and his clan, let her breathe easily for the first time since that sunny, snow-filled afternoon a week ago when she left her uncle’s cabin to head out to the woodpile . . .
Ar’ar’s massive hands clamped around her upper arms, his shadowy bulk looming over her. Summer cried out, struggling against his grip—
“They have gone!” Ar’ar insisted in another’s voice, his eerie alien eyes the wrong color. “You are safe!”
“Wait . . . where am—?”
Moonlight showed through the partially open window flaps but she couldn’t see anything save the shadowy outline of him and his eyes, glowing blue even in this faint light.
Her memory came rushing back.
This was the warrior from another clan, Ke’lar, peering down at her. This was his shelter by the river.
In the next moment the space was filled with light as he activated a luma hanging on a hook on one of the shelter’s support beams. Summer wet her lips as she pushed herself against the soft fur covers of his pallet bed to sit up.
“Jesus,” she muttered, her hand going to her temple. Green-gray flakes echoed the movement and it took a moment to realize it was the dried mud from the creek, still caking her hair, that she’d covered herself with last night.
“I, uh—” She swallowed against the dryness of her throat. “I guess I fell asleep.”
“Clearly.”
He wasn’t whispering! They should have been whispering!
Her frantic glance went to the shelter’s open door, to the forest beyond. “Can’t they—what about—”
“The Betari clanbrothers have retreated far enough into their own territory that even scouting as deeply as I dare into their land I cannot now detect them. And thankfully so—since your cries would have made your presence here plain.”
Summer’s mouth tightened at his chiding tone. “Sorry, I was dreaming. I thought you were Ar’ar.”