Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3

Her breath stopped. “What?”

 

 

“That is how the winner is declared,” Ke’lar growled with a narrowed look across the courtyard at Ar’ar. “When only one of us still lives.”

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty-six

 

 

 

 

 

Summer felt the blood drain from her face. “This is a fight to the death?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“You never—Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”

 

He gave her a puzzled look. “I just did.”

 

“No, I mean—” She passed her hand over her eyes. So. Fucking. Literal. “I meant, why didn’t you tell me before you agreed to do this?” His brow creased but before he could say anything she held her palm up. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You aren’t doing it.”

 

“You are my mate. She is our child.” His fangs flashed. “I will fight for you.”

 

“Ke’lar—” She folded her arms. “I am not just going to stand here and watch you die!”

 

He gave a short huff. “I did not realize you had such confidence in my skills.”

 

“You aren’t doing this,” she insisted. “I won’t let you!”

 

He searched her eyes for a moment.

 

“I think you say this because you are human,” he said slowly. “Perhaps this is how as a human you would show you care for me. But I am g’hir and we are on my world.” Ke’lar took her hand. “If I die, remember you have only the moon’s cycle with Ar’ar. I have secured my father’s promise and Ra’kur’s they will be present for your Choosing Day. You will have your choice.”

 

Her throat tightened. “You’re my choice, Ke’lar.”

 

He cupped her cheek in his palm. “And I fight to prove I am worthy of you.”

 

“Are you ready, brother?” Ra’kur asked, joining them.

 

“In a moment,” Ke’lar agreed and began unfastening the jacket of his warrior clothing.

 

“What are you doing?” Summer exclaimed. “You guys don’t fight naked do you?”

 

Ke’lar froze and the looks the men gave her were priceless. If this hadn’t been so horrifying, so deadly serious, it would have been funny.

 

Ra’kur recovered first. “Weapons are forbidden,” he explained. “A warrior fights bare chested to show he has none hidden on him.”

 

“My child, Emma—” Ke’lar rumbled with an anxious glance on Ra’kur, handing over his jacket to a waiting clanbrother.

 

“My mate will keep her inside,” Ra’kur assured. “Far from the windows and balconies until we come for her. She will not see. It is just as well,” he rumbled. “I do not wish Jenna to witness this either.”

 

“You aren’t making me feel any better here, you know,” Summer said, wrapping her arms around herself.

 

“A challenge of this kind is no small thing, nor to be lightly undertaken,” Ra’kur said, a little sharply. “They are a relic from the time when the clans began but the number of these battles has increased since the Scourge. The enclosures have actively tried to discourage them but to little avail. There are too many warriors and too few females and we have all witnessed such battles. There are no rules but to kill your opponent. These challenges are fierce, and bloody.” Ra’kur’s face was grim. “It takes a great deal of damage for one g’hir warrior to kill another.”

 

Summer’s gaze snapped to Ke’lar. “I don’t think—I don’t want you to—”

 

“I will fight for you,” he snarled, his fangs showing. “I will not let you and Emma go to another. I will die first!”

 

Oh my God, he means that.

 

“I changed my mind.” Summer wet her lips. “I want to talk to Ar’ar.”

 

Ra’kur scowled in disapproval and Ke’lar went still.

 

“That is your right,” he agreed, but she could see it hurt him.

 

“Okay.” She gave a nod. “Okay.”

 

“It is inappropriate that I go with you”—he glanced toward the other side of the courtyard—“if you wish to speak to your mate.”

 

“He’s not my mate, you are,” Summer said thickly. “But—just maybe—I can convince him of that.”

 

“The challenge will begin shortly,” Ra’kur growled. “If you wish to speak to”—he glanced to where the Betari had gathered, to where Ar’ar stood shirtless, his molten gaze on her—“Ar’ar, you should do so now.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Ke’lar.

 

Summer could feel every eye on her as she crossed the courtyard and she wondered if she were breaking some death-battle etiquette or something.

 

Certainly the Betari weren’t happy to see her.

 

“Daughter,” Mirak greeted her with narrowed eyes and heavy sarcasm. “How honored we are you have seen fit to stand with us.”

 

“I need to speak to Ar’ar,” she said. “Alone.”

 

The Betari warriors shifted in their places, looking to their clanfather, but Ar’ar spoke first.

 

“Leave us.”

 

The men inclined their heads and after a moment, Mirak, with a bitter look at her, gave them some privacy.

 

“I will kill him,” Ar’ar said without preamble. “I am the mightier warrior. The better fighter.”

 

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