Courting Kel Read online

  “You get that close to invaders?”

  His droll tone made Kel look up. “Oh. I thought you meant…”

  “I know what you thought. We’ve wiped out skeetmosques here.”

  “Another case full of luck for Ondrican.” At her surly tone, Kel shrugged. “Sorry. Experiencing an envy attack just now.”

  “When Tage and I were lads, Storr told us stories about your homeworld.”

  “I bet he told you what a hellhole it is. How badly he was treated. What a hellhole it is.”

  The repetition made Aren laugh. “He didn’t much care for the swamps, the humidity or the skeetmosques. But he thought your jungles have a kind of savage beauty.”

  “And the mating wasn’t bad either.”

  “According to Storr, the fucking was spectacular.”

  “Did he tell you why he was on Amazonia or how he got captured?”

  Releasing her hand, Aren stood.

  How could he share his feelings about Drew yet refuse to tell her about his father? Did he think she didn’t understand a man’s needs? Or did he believe she would hate his father if she knew what Storr had done on Amazonia? As if what he’d tried to do to Basalia wasn’t enough reason to despise him!

  Mayhem in her heart, Kel ran.

  Chapter Six

  Aren found her in Peg’s barn, swearing at the gryph and trying to saddle him. Every time Kel approached, Peg bared his teeth, growled in his lion way and skittered out of reach.

  “It is fortunate I fed him this morning. Otherwise you’d make a tasty snack.”

  Whirling, Kel threw the saddle at him. Arms akimbo, she glared between the pegagryph and Aren.

  “Come with me, Kel.” She stuck out her tongue then turned away. Not enough to leave her vulnerable to attack, but far enough to tell him she was pissed. “Come with me and I’ll tell you everything Storr told me.”

  “You’ll tell me anyway. I’m a warrior, trained to waiting.”

  “But unschooled in patience.”

  “I can outwait any pampered prince.” She tossed her head, sending her unbound hair into her eyes. Retaining a regal air, she tucked the wayward locks behind her ears.

  Sitting on a bale of hay, he crossed his arms over his chest, one bare foot over the other. “I’m also trained as a warrior, Kel. Moreover, I’m trained in diplomacy. If you believe crawling on your belly through a swamp is tedious, try sitting in a room with twenty diplomats. Or, even worse, one of Storr’s council meetings.” Gods blast it, he wanted to make a blanket from her silky hair and wrap them both in it.

  “I’ve sat through that kind of guanshit. The council kind.”

  “Bet you walked out before they finished.”

  Her eyebrows quirked just before she grinned. “Where will we go? If I come with you, that is.”

  “Up the mountain. Since you live near swamps—”

  “Sometimes in them.”

  “I suspect you’ve never been in snow.”

  His voice and goosefleshed skin conveyed very low temperatures, as if just thinking about snow made him feel icy. She shivered. “Much as I hate heat, I don’t like being cold either.”

  “I have cold-weather clothing,” he said, closely watching her eyes. Ah, there it is. That stormy gray that tells so much about her mood. “If it’s really cold, we can share body heat. It is the most effective way to stay warm.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said with a touch of asperity. But her eyes lightened to a soft brown. Tapping her foot, she gave him a long, considering look. “All right, I’ll come with you. I would like to see snow.”

  “We can play in it if you like.”

  “Play? What is play?”

  “It’s a difficult concept to explain. When we arrive, I’ll show you. Come on.” He held out his hand.

  That long, considering look again. Then she took his hand. He felt her tremble and sent a prayer of thanks toward heaven. Teaching Kel how to play might become the experience of his life. And hers, he silently amended. One night in a snow cave had infinite pleasurable possibilities.

  * * * * *

  “Another barn? At least,” Kel went on immediately, “this one’s in better condition.”

  “Horses are easier on their homes than pegagryphs.” Taking a pack off a nearby hook, Aren handed it to her. “You’ll have to carry this. The trail’s too steep for the horses.”

  Nodding, she eased her arms through the straps, shifting until it balanced to her satisfaction. “We could ride Peg.”

  “No place to bathe up there, Flame. Remember last night and pulling off our clothes.”

  “Ugh!” Chewing her lower lip, she cleared her throat. “I think I owe you an apology for last night. What you and your family do—how you treat each other—is none of my business.”

  He flinched. She knew she’d hurt him. “I suppose I should apologize for saying what I just said.”

  “I admire honesty—even when it lacks tact.” Grabbing his own pack, he strode outside. “Coming?”

  “Not anytime soon,” she mumbled to herself, following behind. Another case of not knowing my own mind.

  * * * * *

  Halfway up the mountain, they stopped. Sitting on a flat boulder, easing off their packs, they viewed their surroundings.

  “It’s…spectacular,” Kel said. White-capped peaks surrounded them and yet it seemed as if she could see every nook and cranny in the valleys below. As if she could pick up Aren’s barns and house like a child’s building blocks and replant his gardens on the mountainside. Seeing smoke curling upward to dissipate in the crystal blue skies, she glanced at Aren.

  “Nothing to worry about, Flame. Just folks cooking breakfast or heating their homes.”

  “Folks,” she echoed. “How many folks live around here?”

  “About thirty families all together. And don’t think you can run to them for help. You won’t get any from them.”

  “Not that I was thinking about running—” He grunted as if he knew she’d been thinking exactly that. “But why wouldn’t they help me?” When he just glanced at her, she rushed on. “You might get hurt and need someone to carry you to medical aid. I’m strong, Aren, but not that strong. And what about fires? With all these trees, an out-of-control fire could burn everything to the ground. Folks could be homeless in a matter of minutes.”

  “Or I could be a brute who beat you for no reason. Even if I bloodied and bruised you, they wouldn’t help you.”

  “Not that I think you’re that kind of man, but why not?”

  “Because I take care of what is mine.” Standing, he resettled his pack and started up the mountain. “Another five kilometers before we reach the snow line. We’ll eat then.”

  She resented him thinking she was his but decided to let it go. Wondering if she could find her way back to his lodge without getting lost, Kel eyed his wide back, muttering to herself as she followed him. “Would you like to rest a little longer, Kel? Need some water, Kel? No, I’m fine, tak. Never had to climb in air this thin but I’m just dandy.” What taking care of what’s his had to do with folks helping her, she had no idea.

  In her mind, Basalia tsked. You’re a warrior, Keleos. Are you going to let a man get the better of you?

  “By all the gods, no!”

  And I’m not yours!

  By the time they reach the snow, Kel was out of breath and her legs felt so shaky she could barely stand. When she went home, she’d persuade Basalia to design some kind of climbing equipment for her warriors. If any Amazonian woman found herself in Kel’s situation, she wouldn’t have her lungs screaming for air or her thighs and calves pleading for a chair. There were few mountains on Amazonia—none so high as here—but they would serve as a starting place for training to survive in thinner air. What Basalia could design to keep her warriors from freezing, Kel had no idea. If Amazonia had ever had fur-bearing animals, the planet’s torrid heat had made them extinct. Or they had mutated into an Amazonia-tolerant form.

  “Here.” A
ren dropped a blanket around her shoulders.

  “Tak.” Her teeth were chattering so hard she could hear them. As if alive, the blanket curled around her. She shrieked, struggling to pull it off her, but the more she fought the tighter it wound.

  “Hold still,” Aren commanded, his hands on her shoulders pinning her in place.

  She glared up at him, noticing his blanket covered him from head to toe. He looked like some furry creature that could gobble her up in one bite. And yet…his eyes held calmness and a hint of amusement. Under her hands his blanket felt soft and smooth and warm as fleece. Her blanket encased her fingers, but she could still feel Aren’s body heat as if he were naked. She stepped away.

  “The fabric adjusts to climate,” Aren explained, now pulling foodstuffs from his pack.

  “Along with a supply of caills, I want meters and meters of this material to take home.”

  “It may not function in extreme heat or humidity.”

  “Oh? Then it’s the perfect opportunity to test it.” Snapping her fingers, she crowed, “I’ll trade you for it. That is, Basalia will trade for it.”

  “What does Amazonia have in the way of trade goods? Skeetmosques perhaps? Something even more unpleasant?”

  His condescension made her grit her teeth. “Graackocrto skins make beautiful boots and shoes. Even bags for transporting clothes. If you had many and needed to move them.”

  “At what cost to the graackocrto? Do Amazonians hunt them for their skins? Kill them for their meat?”

  “Their flesh is poisonous if ingested. And we harvest their skins only when they shed them.”

  “Hmmm.”

  He stared at her. Kel imagined him picturing her in graackocrto skin and felt her own skin heat. She could as easily imagine him—his cock and balls and ass encased in varying shades of pink. With his dark coloring, pink would look more than a little alluring. She doubted he’d wear it. More likely he’d demand to have it dyed. Most likely black, which would all but obscure its lovely patterns and hues.

  “Here.” He held out a neat package of something wrapped in a shiny material. “Food, Kel. See?” He opened his, biting into something between two pieces of bread.

  Since he didn’t expire where he stood, Kel followed suit. A thick, salty substance and another one sweet stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth. That’s one way to keep me quiet, she thought. A yummy way.

  “Is there more?” she asked when she could.

  Smiling at her as a parent would when a child said her first distinct word, he nodded. “I suppose you want pots and pots of brutteunt to take home as well.”

  With her tongue stuck again, she could only nod.

  “Soon you’ll fill The Herald’s hold with Ondrican goods. But what will you give in return? Graackocrto seems your only tradable commodity.”

  Women, she thought, biting her lips to stop the word. She would have to convince Basalia—never an easy task under the best of circumstances—probably impossible given her past with Storr.

  “I would need to talk with my mother before making other suggestions.” She looked down at her hands.

  Aren held out his hand. “Let’s play.”

  When Kel finally lifted her gaze to Aren’s face, her eyes swirled. Impossible to gauge her precise mood, he could at least see she wasn’t angry.

  Licking a fleck of sweet from her upper lip, she offered a brief smile. “At home we begin to train as soon as we can walk. Sticks become wooden swords or bows and arrows. When we are older, we train with iron and steel to build our strength for these warrior weapons.”

  “Who trains women how to raise babies? To cook?” Now that she seemed willing to talk about her homeworld, he wanted to learn as much as he could. Her customs might give him insights to win her heart so she would stay with him.

  “The elders. What are you doing?”

  “You haven’t balls on Amazonia?”

  “Only men have balls. They aren’t so round as the one your hands are forming. Nor are they so white. Even the few albino invaders we capture aren’t that white. Moreover, their balls are hairy, the same as yours.”

  “This ball is for playing. For tossing.” He threw it, hitting her left shoulder. “You’re supposed to catch it.”

  “Will catching it ease its sting? This is a weapon, Aren.”

  “Not if I do this.” Even thinking she would still view snow as a weapon, he scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it all over her face. When he released her, she spun away. Gathering snow, packing it as she retreated, she threw the ball. Only his fast reflexes kept it from slapping his own balls.

  “Make a deal with you, Flame. You don’t throw balls below my waist and I won’t throw above yours.”

  “Deal.”

  Laughing, she scampered away to take shelter behind a snowy mound.

  “You’re fast. But I’m faster.” Running, gathering snow as he went, firing snowballs in quick succession, he managed to hit her five or six times. Although she had to slog to get away from him, her aim was as accurate as his own. Her missiles—smaller than his—stung. Only the altitude let him capture her. The thinner air slowed her, making her gasp for breath. Which worked to his advantage when his tackle felled her. Afraid she’d smother in the snowbank where she had fallen, he rolled her to her back. And had his own face washed by two fistfuls of snow.

  Her eyes swirled with slender threads of black. Her cheeks and nose were chilled red by snow and cold air. Pink lips curving in a triumphant smile, she smeared his face. “If getting the better of you is play, it amuses me.”

  “We call it fun. And, no, we don’t summon it, as you thought we called choke. Although we can seek it out, as we have today.”

  “Tak, Aren.” Shoving him off, she leapt to her feet, graceful as a tiger finishing its daily bath.

  “Have these balls a name?” she asked, scooping up more snow.

  “An obvious one. Snowball.”

  “Ahh. May I assume you have other balls with different names?”

  “Yes. Come here, Kel.”

  “Why?”

  “We need to find shelter before the storm descends. And we need to hurry.”

  Glancing skyward, she seemed to assess the gathering clouds. Without a word, she retrieved her pack and set off down the mountain.

  “If hurrying is the price for fun, fun comes at a high price,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Everything worth having comes with costs,” he said, more to himself than Kel.

  They almost made it to the tree line before the flurries began. Surprising him, Kel halted and tipped up her face. When he got near enough, he saw she was catching snowflakes on her tongue and laughing softly. Her blanket had slipped off her head as if to join in her childlike delight. Flakes caught in her fiery tresses and lingered for a moment before melting. Drops of water sparkled like dew on the petals of his seros.

  “Oh look, it’s Peg!” Kel cried, pointing to the beast circling above them. “Will you call him down, Aren? Please.”

  “Only if you bathe with me. Even with our blankets to protect us, our clothes will stick.”

  One way or another he intended to have Kel naked in his arms.

  With another of her assessing looks, she nodded. Apparently, bathing with him was a lesser danger than freezing. Or, he thought with a wry smile, she found warm water more appealing than warm bodies. He’d changed her mind about that.

  Whistling, he summoned Peg.

  * * * * *

  By the time Peg deposited them at his lodge, Aren’s shaft was hard as stone and aching for the warmth of Kel’s cunt. With the wind so uncertain, Peg had had a difficult time and the ride had been bumpy. He’d had Kel’s ass shifting against his crotch the entire flight. Not that he’d minded overmuch. Still, it would be more pleasant were he certain of a hot welcome between Kel’s thighs.

  Where they landed near his lodge the snow had turned to rain, so incessant a downpour even their clothing was soaked. Kel insisted they tend to Peg’
s comfort before their own. So they reached the lodge, shivering in their now storm-drenched clothing, hungry and exhausted.

  Kel shed her pack then began to return the foodstuffs to their proper places. Catching her hand, Aren dragged her to the hot spring and tossed her in. She came up sputtering and cursing and splashing water at him as he joined her.

  “So you do know how to play,” he said, seizing her hands and wrestling her to spoon against his chest. She fought, but when she saw the lighted candles she subsided.

  “How beautiful. How do they stay like that?”

  “Fairies,” he told her, flinging their sopping blankets aside.

  Snorting, she scoffed, “At home we call it swamp gas. Unwary invaders are lured by the lights and fall into kniqudac.” His frown made her add, “Swamp stuff that looks like sand but sucks the unwary to their deaths. Most we rescue.” She sighed. “Some, sadly, we cannot.”

  “Why sadly? I thought Amazonian women have only one purpose for captured men. That you all fight or fuck them.” The whorls in her ear fascinated him and he traced them with his tongue.

  Shivering, pressing closer, she said, “You have the right of it. But any loss of life saddens us. It’s not so much the death of one man, but the loss of the children he might have given us.”

  “I’ll never understand your people.”

  “Or I yours.”

  The silence between them made Aren aware of other sounds. The lessening anger of the storm. Rain pitter-patting on the canopy of trees towering above the hot spring. The sound of Kel’s soft sobs.

  “Sweetheart.” Turning her to face him, he cupped her tear-streaked face. “You’re homesick.”

  Crying harder, she nodded but wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “What else, Flame? Don’t lie. I can see in your eyes that something else troubles you. If you tell me, I might ease your sadness.”

  “With mating?” She shoved him away. “They’ll be no mating, Aren. My menses began today.”

  He felt as if she had ripped out his guts. Just reached her hand inside his belly and jerked them out to dangle bloodless yet writhing in her delicate hands. Until this moment he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to make a child with her. Now he would have to send her home. He’d no excuse to keep her except…she’d promised Storr she’d stay nine months. Aren knew she’d promised the term of her possible pregnancy and had meant only that. He suspected she thought he’d send her home now they knew there’d be no baby. But if she thought her menses had freed her, she would have to think again. Her tears told him she too regretted the loss of their child—even though he’d not given her one. Yet.