by Lizzy Ford
“It does not please me.”
“Then you’ll have to wait anyway.”
She stood, as if to tell him their conversation was over. A’Ran almost echoed her movement. His size might have an impression on her in person, but over the viewer, it meant nothing. She could just as easily flick off the viewer as he could. He didn’t doubt the unpredictable woman would do such an incredible thing. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, and he was uncertain whether he wanted more to kiss those perfect lips or shake some sense into her.
He leaned back and drew a calming breath. She was distraught about something, though he couldn’t fathom what might distress her if the news of his sisters’ impending babes and complete loss of honor did not. That news certainly distressed him.
“You’re angry?” She studied him.
“I’m not angry.”
“You look angry.”
“You’re trying my patience, woman,” he said. He raised his chin to indicate the table to her left. “Have you been using that machine?”
Nishani glanced in the direction he indicated and returned a wary gaze to him.
“Did Ne’Rin tell you that?”
“So you have been.”
“Yes, I have,” she said. “Ne’Rin suggested that I not use it.”
“What do you think of it?” he asked, avoiding the direct challenge in her gaze.
“It’s a very interesting game, though I don’t understand how it works exactly. I think I’ve got most of it down,” she said, relaxing when he didn’t lecture her.
“Game,” he repeated.
“That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it? The battle game on that console?”
He was silent in surprise once more, unable to understand how she might consider his battle plans nothing more than a complex game. If she were unfamiliar with the accepted societal behaviors of a woman on his planet, he couldn’t expect her to be any more familiar with the machine. Yet her naiveté was almost too much for him to bear. How did a woman like this find her way to him of all men?
“How do you like it?” he forced himself to ask.
“I like it a lot. I’ve been spending a lot of time here working with it.” She brightened. “I think I’ve gotten quite good at it.”
“I’ll inform Ne’Rin you’ve approval to continue.”
“Approval? My world is very different,” she said, brow furrowing.
“I’ve assessed that your men can’t control their women,” he said.
She gave a startled laugh. “No, and the women wouldn’t let them anyway,” she said. “It’s closer to the opposite.”
“If you’ve nothing more to tell me, send in Ne’Rin,” he directed.
“It was nice talking to you,” she said. “Have a safe trip.”
She walked toward the door. The woman was more peculiar than any ten-legged creature he’d met on any other planet. Her mannerisms, her features, her obliviousness to the world around her, her soft voice. Oddly enough, he was beginning to like the challenging package that was his nishani.
He’d see her in less than a day, if the Council didn’t absorb all his time.
*
The next morning, she started her normal daily routine and made her way to the courtyard where she trained with the boys. Sunlight blinded her as she walked onto the field. When she could focus again, she stopped short.
A’Ran was with the boys.
His naked back was to her. The man was built like a god! Thick, bronze skin coated layers of roped, rippling muscles. His tucked waist and hips were clad in dark brown, his feet bare. Dark hair was tucked into a tight knot at the base of his neck. In the short time since he left, she had forgotten how buff he was. He appeared much smaller on the communications viewer. She watched him move, intimidated by his size.
She had been pretty mouthy with him from a distance. She felt the urge to retreat to her room and stay there until he left again. One of the boys noticed her. Instead of the welcoming smile, a frantic look crossed his face.
If the giant of a man before her decided to be angry at her for breaking the rules, she’d panic as well. She was about to sneak away when A’Ran’s sword lowered, and he turned, alerted by the boy’s reaction. Kiera stared at him, struggling to focus on his face when all she wanted to do was study every inch of his perfect body. His chest was wide and sprinkled with dark hairs that trailed his ridged belly and disappeared into the dark pants.
Her body flushed, her blood pounding. Whatever otherworldly bond connected them prevented her from moving away. She couldn’t begin to imagine what a man like that would feel like in bed! To run her hands over the washboard abs or twirl her fingertips through the tight hairs dusting his chest …Or better yet, to feel his large hands and muscular body against hers …
“Nishani,” he greeted her with his normal curtness.
She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus on his dark eyes. His face was more handsome than she remembered, more rugged with a two days’ growth covering his neck and jaw. It made him all the more untamed, unlike Romas’s sculpted beauty. Piercing eyes leveled on her, but she could read nothing in them, especially not what he thought of her.
She wondered why she had the sudden urge to know what he thought.
“Welcome home,” she managed, and clasped her trembling hands behind her back. A’Ran turned to the boys and tossed his head. It took nothing else to send all five of them scurrying away. She couldn’t remember when the outdoors had felt so small or when it’d become so humid she was sweating in place.
A’Ran retrieved one sword from its stand, flipped it in the air, and caught the blade. To her surprise, he offered it to her.
“I know you train with them,” he stated.
“I suppose you’ll forbid it,” she said, eyeing him.
“Come.”
Wondering what he was trying to prove, she took the sword and balanced it. He said nothing but dropped into a fighting stance. The sight made her uneasy.
“I’m not good enough to face you,” she said, remembering how he’d beaten men bigger than him into a pulp to free her from Romas’s clan.
He motioned her forward with one hand. Her heart thudded, her palms damp. He could smash her into a million pieces if he wanted. Given her blatant ignorance of his rules, he had every probable cause to do so. At least he gave her the chance to go down fighting.
She began as she had been taught, focusing on her form. A’Ran met her blows gently, redirecting them without affecting her balance. He said nothing but let her strike several times before shifting to the offensive. She blocked clumsily at first but ordered herself not to look weak in front of such a man and focused hard.
She waited for him to flex his strength and drive her into the ground, surprised when he never did. If anything, he was gentle and patient, traits she hadn’t expected from a warrior. They sparred until she grew tired and lowered her weapon. Kiera wiped her forehead, unable but to admire the sheen of sweat on A’Ran’s wide upper body. He straightened as she stopped and gave an approving nod.
“They have taught you well.”
He replaced his sword and strode toward her. She held out her hand for him to take the sword. Instead, he gripped her sword wrist and moved behind her. His touch sent heated energy through her, and the nearness of his body made her tense. He was heated and huge at her back. One massive hand circled her to rest on her abdomen. He drew her into his body.
“Widen your stance,” he instructed, and nudged her left leg out farther with his own. “I’ll teach you the first weapons form we teach our warriors.”
Kiera was dumbstruck both by his willingness to teach her and his touch. Her face felt hot. A’Ran’s warm chest was at her back, his intimate touch on her stomach making her feel far more delicate than she ever had. He said something that her spinning mind couldn’t catch. Her body was too aware of his. It distracted her until he shifted her body forward to demonstrate and correct her stance. Kiera b
linked and forced herself to pay attention. She was too stiff for him to move. He nudged her right foot forward. She complied.
“ … your balance lower.”
She couldn’t register his words and tried hard to focus. A’Ran locked their bodies together with his large hand on her stomach. He used his body to guide hers. His legs and hands applied gentle pressure while his body balanced her in some of the awkward positions.
They went through an entire range of movements, from attacking to defending in motions that resembled a dance. He said little else, and her breathing soon fell into rhythm with his. She eased against him, awed by his pure strength yet determined not to appear as stupid as she felt. Their movements were slow and methodical, controlled, deliberate. Her body strained under muscle fatigue as the form became increasingly complex and slower. A’Ran supported her. By the time she returned to the starting position, she was sweating and breathing hard. Her sword arm shook, and her legs were rubbery. He pried the sword from her clamped hand.
“Yes, you are forbidden from training with them,” he said.
Surprised, she pulled away from the comfortable position resting against him and twisted to face him.
“After this, you’ll forbid me from learning?” she demanded. She took in his beautiful body as he crossed to place her sword in the sword stand.
“I said they’ll not train you.”
“You’ll train me?” she asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
“Yes.” He gazed at her, as if awaiting a refusal. She couldn’t determine if she’d won this round or not.
“You seem too busy,” she said.
“I will make time for you.”
“No, no. I’m not … I know you’re waging a war. Don’t overextend yourself for me,” she said, her face warm once again.
“I was unaware you wished to see me.”
Once again, there was too much behind his simple statement for her to address. Worse, she could think of nothing to say in response that wouldn’t get her in more trouble.
“You are not so bold in person,” he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
She looked at him hard. Anger flared at the tone of his voice. How could he say such a thing after all he had put her through?
“You kidnap me, trick me into marrying you, dump me here alone without Evelyn or even a pad of paper, with instructions for your sisters to give me behavioral training, and run off to fight some battle somewhere else. I’m not allowed to talk to anyone or do anything! You have some nerve to do all that and make fun of me for trying to fit in or ignore me when you do return! I am so angry at you, and if you were half an inch smaller, I’d whip your hide, dhjan or not!”
The flurry of words left before she could temper them. She neared him as she spoke until she was toe-to-toe with the massive man and glaring up at him.
“I will make amends,” he said, his gaze taking in her features.
It was better than an apology. Being so close rattled her senses, and she thought again of the kiss they had shared over a month before. She focused on his eyes as much as she wished to focus on his warm lips. He smelled of pure, primal man, his own scent mixed with sweat.
“I am pleased to learn I was wrong,” he said in a quiet voice. He made no move to close the distance between them. Instead, he stepped away and strode toward the door.
She watched him go, his touch branded on her skin and her emotions muddled. She cursed herself, aware she had accomplished little as far as advancing her rights but managed to draw the guaranteed attention of a man she was not certain she wanted to notice her. The short time together had been enough to remind her just how strong the bond was between them.
It scared her.
As she retreated to the safety of her quarters, her gaze was caught by the objects sitting on her bed: a fat sketchbook and pack of drawing pencils. She reached out and took them, surprised to find them there and even more surprised at how strongly she’d missed them. They were like old friends who came to visit after a long absence. She flipped open the notebook and buried her nose between the pages, breathing the fresh paper smell. She felt tears in her eyes at the small reminder of her past life and hugged the gifts to her chest.
A’Ran.
It couldn’t be coincidence that he returned and they appeared! She forgot her shaky body and the whirling of her emotions and strode toward the door, intent on discovering if he had done this and if so, if he had more. Such a notebook would last her a week or two. Kiera stopped in the hallway, considering where the enigmatic dhjan might have gone.
She trotted down the hall, toward the practice fields, not surprised to see all the warriors sparring on the field. A’Ran was several hundred meters out, surrounded by a group of over a dozen. Ne’Rin was closer to the door, and Kiera remained in the shadows inside the house, watching.
He was sparring with another warrior, his fluid, destructive movements far from the gentle ones he used with her. She admired the way his body shifted and moved. The muscles of his upper body bulged as he sparred, their changing shapes amplified by a play of shade and sunlight.
She debated returning to her quarters until she could find a more private moment to approach him. She doubted he’d appreciate her embarrassing one of them. For once, she wished she’d listened to Gage or Talal.
Ne’Rin caught sight of her just as she decided to leave. The cool toss of his head— a blatant dismissal— changed her mind again. She shot him a look and stepped from the house, moving toward the field with the gifts at her side. She ignored him as she passed. Though he made no move to stop her once she was visible, he did trail her. Those who noticed her stopped to bow as she passed them.
She reached the circle where A’Ran fought and joined the observers. Some of the men were exotic even by Anshan standards. One towered just as tall as the other men but was thinner than any waif-like model she had seen on earth. Another was hunch-backed and dressed in heavy robes despite the heat of the day, and a third man barely taller than her had white irises and silvering hair.
The men watched the silent battle in equal silence, their assessing looks warning her they were looking for something. The man A’Ran fought was more than a foot taller, with light skin and black hair resembling one of the observers. They fought with the grey swords, combining the sword dance with hand-to-hand combat moves for a ferocious battle that surprised her. It was more intense than sparring, and she wondered what was at stake with the simple fight.
She considered retreating but suspected that would draw the attention of the men focused on the battle. She gripped her notebook.
The battle continued, and the men around her grew tenser when the first fleck of blood appeared on A’Ran’s opponent. His opponent faltered, and A’Ran smashed him to the ground hard. Kiera was more than a little surprised when he raised his sword for what would have been a death blow. The sword implanted next to the downed man’s ear, and her small gasp drew the attention of the observers.
The feel of several sets of eyes assessing her made her heart beat harder and her mouth dry. She resisted the urge to leave, instead riveting her gaze to A’Ran.
A’Ran pulled his opponent to his feet, offered several quiet words, and turned his gaze to her. It was the intense, fierce look of a leader and a warrior, and she was surprised to note a difference in the way he regarded her not more than an hour ago.
She felt silly seeking him out for something as simple as a notebook. He was, after all, equivalent of a king on this world! How ridiculous would she seem? She awaited some sort of reprimand, already wounded by the thought of being publicly embarrassed. A’Ran’s intense gaze swept over her before turning to the observers.
“Council members, dhjan nishani,” he announced.
The men around her offered stiff bows. Kiera looked around uncertainly before returning her gaze to A’Ran.
“We will meet in two. Opal, meet me in the command center,” A’Ran directed.
Opal, the tall, thin
man, nodded and stepped toward the house. The men around her broke away, the two with dark hair joining A’Ran’s opponent while the alabaster giant joined Ne’Rin. She wasn’t surprised to see the man in the thick robes move to the cooler shade of the house. The small man with white irises drew near her, his eerie, unblinking gaze making her uncomfortable.
“It is not often I find another smaller than I, nishani,” he said in a thin voice. “The dhjan has granted us permission to address you. Be not alarmed.”
“I am not alarmed,” she murmured.
“I am Jetr. I come from the planet of Dolsom. My people are Anshan’s greatest allies.”
“Is your planet far?” she asked.
“Unfortunately far, in the farthest of the Five Galaxies. I haven’t seen my home in many sun-cycles.”
“You must miss your home as I do mine.”
He tilted his head to the side, observing her with a faint smile.
“Jetr, you are welcome to join us.” A’Ran’s deep voice saved her from filling the awkward quiet. “Please accompany Opal.”
Jetr took the dismissal with a bow of his head and moved away. A’Ran waited. He kept the distance between them, and she felt it like a rejection. Even so, he was too stunning for her to look away. She cleared her throat then said,
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to keep you from your meeting.”
“You received them.” His gaze fell to her chest, where she clenched the sketchbook.
“Yes. I just wanted to thank you,” she said. “I won’t keep you.”
She intended to walk away but found herself stuck, gazing up at him. She was curious about the softer side of him and captivated by his steady gaze. There were many things she suddenly wanted to know about the man she was stuck with. His every look was penetrating, as if he sought to capture her thoughts whenever she crossed his path. She had the impression of extreme intelligence and extreme determination, a combination that awed and intimidated her. Uneasy with the stirrings within her, she forced herself to step away.
“Thank you.”
Only when she turned did she break eye contact, but she felt him watch her. Kiera squeezed the gifts to her chest and walked back to the house, lost in thought. There was something about A’Ran that flipped her world on end. She blinked as she entered the darker house and forced her attention on her surroundings. She returned to her room, eager to spend the day drawing.