Taken: Warriors of Hir, Book 2

by Danes, Willow

  “Human males . . . they do this ‘take off’ often?”

  “I don’t know about often, but it happens, sure.”

  “But . . .” R’har’s frown deepened. “Who hunted for you, little one? For you and your mother?”

  “My mom was a physician. She made good money and my dad sent money to support me.” Hope shrugged. “We were okay.”

  “But did he not regret this?” R’har persisted. “Grieve without end for you both?”

  “My father?” she scoffed. “I don’t think he even missed us. Truth is, I didn’t know him that well. I saw him maybe every couple of months, even less after he got remarried. But then they—he and his new wife—got divorced right before I went off to college. I used to think that I’d get to know him when—” She shook her head. “But by the time I had what he called ‘a respectable job’ he’d gotten sick. He didn’t even tell me how serious it was, and the next thing I knew the hospital was calling me as next of kin.”

  “Do you remember anything of him as a child?” he asked gently. “A memory that brings you comfort?”

  She snorted. “He said I was a typical redhead, just like my mom.”

  “I am sorry he did not protect your home as he should have.”

  Her throat tightened. “I don’t think I ever really had one—a home, I mean,” she said thickly. “I lived with my mom but she was gone so much with work. I sometimes thought she felt like she got stuck behind to raise me. Like she was just going through the motions until I was old enough to go to college so she could go back to her life before she got married, before things went wrong. That’s what I was”—she looked away— “what I was supposed to have with Brian. A home, a real home, with kids’ parties and the house all done up for holidays and flowers planted in the spring and a bench I painted sitting on the porch and—and—”

  “I will give you all that.” R’har caught her hands in his, his glowing gaze intent. “All that you ever wished for.”

  Abruptly she pulled her hands away and pushed herself up. She shoved the shelter flap away, scarcely aware of Olari’s cool air, the grass under her boots as she plunged into the night.

  She was walking fast, almost running. The light breeze of this alien world was chill against her cheeks, her arms folded against the tightness in her chest.

  She was well away from the campsite now but Hope heard him behind her and spoke sharply over her shoulder. “I need a few minutes alone, okay?”

  “No,” he growled. “It is not. I will not leave you unprotected.”

  “Damn it, I’m talking about five minutes here!”

  “You are my responsibility. Mine to keep safe.”

  She rounded on him. “No, damn it, I’m not, R’har! You keep going on and on about this lifemated stuff like I ever said yes!”

  He stopped where he was. “Why can you not envision my home as your own? With me as your mate?”

  “Look, I have done some stupid things in my life but this—us—is never going to work! It can’t!”

  “How can you say this?” he growled, angry now. “We speak always as friends. We eagerly take pleasure in each other. I have bound myself to you. Why do you refuse me as lifemate?”

  “You fucking kidnapped me! You shot me and took me off my planet! I’m sorry, R’har, but there’s something about that just screams ‘relationship red flag’ to me! Don’t you understand? I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose you!”

  “You choose only worthless males so it will not matter if you lose them!” His fangs flashed in the moonlight and his voice rose to a roar. “You are afraid to choose me because in your heart you know I am not worthless!”

  The words hung in the air and Hope’s mouth parted, her hands pressing hard to her stomach.

  All of them, Brian, John, even her first boyfriend Claude, all cheaters, all liars, but she knew—every time she knew in her gut—that there was something wrong. The little lies she caught them in that hid even bigger ones. She ignored her own intuition even when it was screaming at her. Even her so-called friends, like Megan, like Keri—she knew she couldn’t trust them, that they wouldn’t be there for her. That was how she kept anyone from getting close; she knew deep down she could never really trust any—

  “He did not leave because your hair is red,” R’har growled.

  “What?” Her head came up. “What did you say?”

  “Your father. He did not leave because your hair is red.”

  What he was saying didn’t make any sense. She shook her head but tears still blurred her vision.

  “In your heart you believe that his leaving was your fault somehow,” he rumbled softly. “But it is not.”

  The whole idea that she, as a small child—that her fucking hair color—could have had anything to do with her parents splitting up or their unhappiness was just ludicrous but R’har kept looking at her with those eerie glowing eyes that saw way too much.

  Hope sat down hard in the dirt of an alien world.

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “I do. Deep down I guess I always have.” She looked up at R’har in bewilderment. “But how could you know that? G’hir aren’t”—her brow creased—“mindreaders, are they?”

  “Do you think I—a warrior of Hir—do not understand grief? That I was not tempted to hide myself away so that I need never know it again?” He sat beside her. “I felt the same guilt, the same responsibility, when my mother and sisters died.”

  “But they were killed by the Scourge, by a plague that killed billions!” She shook her head again. “My father—I went to his office after school and I found him with someone else. He lied, right to my face, saying I’d gotten it wrong, that they were only friends.”

  “Did you tell your mother what you witnessed?” he asked quietly.

  Hope felt her throat closing. “I didn’t know what to do, what to think. Jesus, I was only eight! I acted like everything was okay but I knew he was lying to Mom, pretending that when he got a phone call it wasn’t his girlfriend on the other end. And it just got worse, no matter how I tried to make it okay, how good I tried to be. One day he just announced at dinner he didn’t want to do ‘this family thing’ any more. He got up, packed some stuff, and left. You know what he meant by ‘family thing’? He meant me. You lost your mother, R’har, and your sisters but at least you know they didn’t want to leave you. How could you ever think you were responsible?”

  “Whenever we lose someone important to us we look to ourselves to cast the blame. I could not bring my father back from despair. He sat beside my mother’s grave until he was so weak he was forced to lie upon the ground. One morning I went out there to bring him tea and found him there. In his face I saw peace but I stood beside him keening. I thought, if I’d only come sooner, if I’d made the warriors carry him inside whether he wanted to go or not . . .”

  “You weren’t responsible, you couldn’t—I mean, were just a little boy—”

  His hand, solid, strong, and warm, enveloped hers. “For my sake you see a child for whom the burden of adult problems proved too heavy. In yourself, you see only fault.”

  He was right. She could see in him still the little boy whose world was shattered by war and disease. How could she, as an eight-year-old girl, have fixed anything between her parents? Or been the cause of their unhappiness?

  Suddenly as if the light of Olari’s moons brightened her inner vision, she saw that it hadn’t been about her at all. She could bet that even if she had never been born, her parents, brilliant though they were, would have wound up unhappy anyway.

  She’d been carrying that, the guilt, the feeling of not being good enough, not important enough even to her own parents, for such a very long time. She’d based her whole self-image on it—on trying not to be the girl her dad left, the child her mom got stuck raising. On taking so much less than she deserved just so she could be loved, even if that meant giving up the art she loved, even if it meant not being herself at all.

  Like I’ve been looking at myself in
some twisted and warped mirror . . .

  “I was so mad at them,” she said hoarsely. “I never even realized how much until now. Mad at my dad ’cause he left; mad at my mom too, even though I know it wasn’t her fault. Mad ’cause neither one of them really accepted me for who I was. Were you angry with your father when he died?” she asked. “Because he just gave up and left you?”

  R’har looked out over the moonlit land. “No, he had to follow my mother. I understand even better now.” His fingers brushed her cheek, his glowing eyes soft on her. “When a g’hir male takes a lifemate, he loves very deeply.”

  As she looked into his glowing eyes, tears blurred her vision. “R’har . . .”

  “I know.” His mouth curved into a sad smile. “I am not human so you can never love me. But I am a g’hir warrior, my Hope, and you are my lifemate. And I will love you for always.”

  “Damn it.” Her tears overflowed then. “Oh, Goddamn it. . .”

  He sighed. “Do your eyes water in pity for me, little one? Because I cannot be human for you as I long to be?”

  “No,” she said roughly. “Because it doesn’t fucking matter anymore.”

  His brow creased as she took a deep breath and intertwined her fingers with his. She’d spent almost a lifetime trying to set things up so she wouldn’t get hurt and yet she still always did. But this was harder than anything she’d ever done before, so hard to let him in and let herself risk her whole heart—

  “I love you too, R’har.”

  Eighteen

  His eyes went wide. “You—?”

  “I love you.”

  “I thought you could never . . .” R’har shook his head looking dazed then as if he were afraid to even ask, “Do you . . . mean this?”

  “Oh, God, yes. I love you.” She gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “I’ll say it all night if you need me to.”

  Suddenly, as if her words had finally filtered through his shock, he caught her face between his hands.

  “My little one.” He touched his forehead to hers. “My Hope . . .”

  And then his mouth was on hers, his rumble-purr drawing a moan of pleasure from her. She breathed in the spicy scent of him as he lowered her to the downy soft, cool grass.

  She was eager, impatient to feel him inside her, but he was tantalizingly slow this time, brushing his nose to hers, kissing her until she was breathless. His fingers trailed the length of her throat to cup her breast through the fabric of her shirt and he caught her hand before she could undo the buttons.

  “No,” he murmured. “Allow me.”

  One by one he undid them, leisurely undressing her. She shivered as the last of her clothing came away and he freed himself quickly of his own.

  He paused over her. “I want to look at you,” he rumbled. “Just for a moment.”

  His face was shadowed above, his eyes with their green glow piercing, and she gave a breathless laugh. “You can barely see me.”

  “I can see you perfectly.” He bent his head to her breast then his warmth was on her, his heat blocking the chill of the night air, his bare flesh smooth against hers. “And you are exquisite.

  “Your fine bones, your breasts, your spo—” His fangs flashed in a hot smile. “Freckles. How they dapple your skin here—” His lips brushed her breast bone. “Then you fade to white . . . then pink,” he purred, his breath hot against her skin for an instant before the moist heat of his mouth covered her nipple.

  Hope gasped, her hands coming up to thread through his hair, but he drew away, his thumb tracing the other peak, watching her reaction, his rumbling-purr sending her arousal soaring. She hooked her leg around his hip, the insistent heat between her legs urging her on, moving against him as his sound thrummed through her.

  “R’har, you’re making me crazy!”

  “Good,” he rumbled.

  “Please . . .”

  “Hmm, I like this, little one.” His voice grew huskier as his fingers slid to her cleft. “To hear you begging me for your pleasure . . .”

  The smart retort that flashed through her mind vanished as he found her clit and Hope’s mouth parted as he stroked her. Her center was so tight now; she was only a moment from coming.

  “So ready . . .” he groaned.

  His green eyes glowed eerily under Olari’s many moons, his blond hair robbed of its golden hue by the cool light as he positioned his cock at her opening, holding her gaze as he entered her.

  He bent forward to gently brush his nose against hers. Caught between the hardness of his body and the softness of the grass beneath, she parted her mouth in pleasure as he slid inside her, his rumble-purr vibrating through her clit with every stroke.

  Wild with it, his glowing gaze burned into hers and he bared his fangs as he plunged deeply within her, claiming her as his own with each stroke. Hope cried out as she came, his rumbling carrying her along, deepening and extending her climax even as he rode her, roaring, to his own pulsing release.

  He bent his head, his cheek to hers, his breath ragged, his body still trembling as he settled beside her to gather her into his arms.

  Hope lay in R’har’s embrace looking up at the moons, at the mind-bending number of stars above, the soft grass of an alien world under her, nestled close enough to feel his strong heartbeat against her cheek.

  “I could fall asleep right here,” she murmured.

  He purred, cradling her closer. “And I feel great contentment in watching you sleep.”

  “Like you did back on Earth, at the cabin?” she asked. “I know g’hir ways are different but I guess—I guess I just don’t understand, really understand, why you did that. Stood at my bedside all night, I mean.”

  He gave a huff of surprise. “To offer myself to you, little one. To stand guard over you so that you might rest easy in the night. To place my strength between you and the dangers of your world. I kept my senses sharp, alert to any threat to you. I gave this of myself, willingly. I would give more,” he rumbled, his luminous gaze serious. “I would give my last breath to protect you . . .”

  Hope tightened her arms around him. “I love you, R’har.”

  “And I you.” His lips brushed her temple. “My Hope.”

  She closed her eyes, letting herself relax against him, the sound of his heartbeat soothing her. She had searched her whole life for this, for someone she could let her guard down with, let into her heart . . .

  He stroked her back. “Are you warm enough?”

  She smiled against his shoulder. “Except my feet. Maybe next time I’ll leave my hiking boots on. The extra traction might be fun too.”

  She thought he would chuckle at that but instantly he was sitting up, gathering her things.

  “We should return to the campsite,” he rumbled. “I have kept you out in the night air too long. Your physiology makes you more susceptible to this chill than mine.”

  “I’m fine,” she protested, though without his heat next to her in the grass it was pretty freaking cold on the ground. “Just lie down.”

  “You are shivering.” R’har already had her things assembled and his growl brooked no argument. “Here, I will help you to dress quickly.”

  She sighed. “Okay, but just to be clear for future reference—this is not a satisfactory amount of cuddling.”

  She stood, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance as he knelt before her, the grass chilly beneath her feet. He held her underwear for her to step into and slid the panties up to her hips, his fingers tracing the sides of her legs. His hands brushed her breasts as he helped her into her bra, lingering for an instant over her nipples. He helped her into her jeans and she trembled a little as he pulled the tee shirt over her head, his hands smoothing the fabric to her hips.

  He knelt again, naked in the moonlight, to slide her feet into her shoes, quickly tying the laces and looked up at her breathless laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never thought it would be so hot to have someone put my clothes on.”

  His f
angs flashed in a grin and R’har got to his feet, his cock again at full stand. He pulled her against him and lowered his mouth to hers, the sweet cinnamon taste of him and rumbling purr bringing her right back to readiness.

  “I must stop,” he murmured against her mouth, his rumble-purr lowering in volume as if he were willing himself to it. “Or I will have you here beneath me again, despite the chill.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I do.”

  “Then let’s get back to camp quick, okay?” she suggested as he reluctantly let her go.

  He gave a soft huffing chuckle as he bent to retrieve his clothes. “Agreed.”

  Nineteen

  Hope stirred and reached for R’har only to find his place beside her on the sleeping pallet empty.

  Off hunting again probably.

  She smiled sleepily and arched her back in a stretch, still amazed at how comfortable this sleeping pallet was. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she hated camping but two days out and she could understand why the g’hir loved “foresting.”

  This wasn’t camping. This was marvelous.

  Then again, she was with R’har, and he could make anything fun.

  He was eager, proud, to prove his skills as a hunter, a provider, a protector. Each morning he had prepared her breakfast, some of it from the supplies he carried, some from fruit he picked or an animal he’d hunted.

  R’har would pack up while she ate and by the time they headed on toward the relay station there wouldn’t be a trace of their campsite left. They would break at midday and rest a few times in between. Before sunset he would have their new camp made and the evenings were spent in talk and lovemaking.

  She almost didn’t want to be rescued—

  Hope half sat up as R’har came into the tent, smiling and bringing a plate and the mouthwatering smell of breakfast with him.

  She smiled back. “What’s this? More repari?”

  “Because it pleases you so,” he agreed.

  He’d included some grains from the packs that reminded her a bit of grits but she quickly dug in to the meat, closing her eyes in pleasure at the first succulent taste.