“If he has been permitted to hunt a mate on your world then he is an honorable g’hir warrior,” the stranger soothed. “You are a human female and highly prized. He will never harm you. Your mate will care for you and protect you, always.” He gently removed her hand from his arm and indicated the forest. “Go. Return to your mate.”
Her eyes stung with tears. It was so unfair! After all she’d been through: the capture, the terror, the translator chip Ar’ar implanted in her brain without her permission so she could understand the g’hir’s snarling, growling language. The sickening, never-ending anxiety that Ar’ar might lose patience at any time and rape her, forcing her to breed a half-human, half-g’hir monstrosity. That she might never see home again, the desperate planning and sneaking and fear of what they would do to her if they caught her—
The warrior was frowning, his glowing blue eyes searching her face.
“Please . . .” Summer’s vision blurred. “Please . . . I am begging you . . .”
The warrior’s gaze cut toward the forest, past his own mount grazing contentedly near the treeline, and a moment later she could make it out too, a sound like distant thunder, the heavy beat of multari hooves coming this way.
His fangs suddenly flashed in a snarl and he shoved her toward his shelter. “Inside.”
“No! We have to run! They’ll—”
“Quiet!” he hissed, seizing her elbow to propel her toward the geodesic dome and shoving her inside.
The shelter was tall enough that she could stand comfortably but with his height the roof was only inches above his head. It was large enough to accommodate a wide pallet bed piled with furs and while things were neatly arrayed it looked as if he had occupied this camp for at least a few days.
“Whatever happens, stay here.” The warrior pulled the pack from her back and tossed it into the corner of the shelter then fixed her for an instant with his furious blue gaze, his voice a tight whisper. “And for the love of the All Mother be quiet.”
He ducked back out and yanked the fabric door shut behind him.
With only one entrance in or out there wasn’t going to be an escape through the back door this time. There were fabric “windows” but they were closed. It was unpleasantly stuffy in here, much warmer than it was outside. But in his hurry he hadn’t sealed the door completely; a tiny sliver was left open.
At the sound of the arriving riders, Summer knelt and eased herself down to lie flat, peering out through the tiny crack.
She had the answer to one of her questions immediately.
Ar’ar wasn’t hunting her alone.
She counted no fewer than five clanbrothers riding with him, though his father, Mirak, was not among them.
The blue-eyed warrior strolled to meet them as they reined in a few paces from the treeline, the multari shifting restlessly under them. The stranger’s pace was unhurried, the set of his shoulders showing him a man curious but not yet alarmed.
He inclined his head to the mounted warriors and when he spoke, his words carried to where Summer hid. “I greet you in peace, clanbrothers of the Betari enclosure.”
“I know you,” Ar’ar said shortly to the blue-eyed one. “You are Ke’lar, the Erah clanfather’s son. You are brother to Ra’kur.”
Ke’lar gave an agreeable shrug. “And I recall seeing you—and your father Council Member Mirak as well—at the wedding celebrations at the Yir enclosure this past midwinter, Ar’ar of the Betari.”
“What are you doing here?” Ar’ar demanded.
“I might ask the same of you and your clanbrothers,” Ke’lar replied, sounding surprised. “Since you come in such numbers and your multari show you have ridden hard.”
Ar’ar’s fangs bared. “We are hunting.”
“Ah, then I must caution you—” Ke’lar sent a wave at the surrounding area. “In the excitement of your hunt you have mistakenly crossed the border into our lands. This territory is part of the Erah enclosure.”
“Only the very farthest point of it!” Ar’ar snapped. “Why do you forest here, Ke’lar, son of the Erah?”
“I may forest within any of the Erah enclosure,” Ke’lar said, an edge creeping into his voice. “Even to the very border of our land . . . if I wish.”
There was a tense pause and Summer could see Ar’ar’s hard stare on Ke’lar even from here.
“What are you hunting?” Ke’lar asked, pleasant again. “It is the wrong season to find kartlet in this area. They will not be plentiful here until the summer suns are on the wane.”
Ar’ar’s gaze was hooded, his mouth tight as the multari shifted beneath him. “A fugitive. A warrior who has broken with clan directive and fled Betari justice.”
A fugitive? Summer frowned. Why the hell didn’t Ar’ar just say his mate had run away? Was he embarrassed or something?
“A criminal?” Ke’lar asked, his tone turning grave. “The man must still be in your territory. I have been here many days and not seen another warrior—of my clan or yours—in all that time. In fact, I have not seen any clanbrother of the Betari—save yourselves—since the last winter gathering at the Yir enclosure.”