Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3 (22 page)

Twenty-two

Her vision blurred and she looked down at Emma.

“She’s so beautiful,” Summer murmured thickly. “I can’t believe I forgot how beautiful she is.”

Dean was looking at her askance. 

Right. Act normal; this is just a normal co-parenting kid hand-off ’cause nothing weird has happened at all.

“What the hell you all dressed up for?” he asked. “You look like the blond chick from
Frozen
.”

Summer glanced down, dismayed to see she was still wearing Jenna’s dress and the jeweled slippers.

Perfectly normal.

“Christmas party,” Summer mumbled, laying Emma on Uncle Lester’s green patterned sofa. He kept the blanket that Granny Crawford crocheted across the back and Summer pulled it down to tuck around Emma. “Sorry. My cell was busted. I, uh, dropped it in the toilet.”

“That was pretty fucking careless.” He let the storm door shut behind him and leaned Emma’s small suitcase against the wall. “You ought to be more responsible.”

“Well, you know me.” Summer smoothed Emma’s hair back. The little girl’s face was speckled with what looked like that neon orange powdered cheese from Cheetos and she wondered when the child had last had a decent meal. “Anyway, they had to send me a new one. I just got it half an hour ago. How did the visit go? She and Marthe have a good time?”

He looked troubled. “She got bad news. The cancer’s back.”

Summer bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Dean. What are the doctors saying?”

He gave a shrug but it was far from careless. “That she probably won’t make it to spring.”

Summer’s glance went to the beautifully carved comb on the dining table. “It’s real hard to lose . . . someone you love.”

“I forgot,” he said. “Yours died a while back, didn’t she?”

Her mother had died just before they’d met but that was just like Dean, not to notice something that didn’t impact his comfort directly—like the needs and grief of other people.

“Yes,” she said instead. “But I’m sorry about Marthe. She’s always been good to me, good to Emma.”

“She was glad to see her.”

“I’m glad she could.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

He shifted his weight again and it occurred to Summer that this might be the longest and most meaningful conversation they’d had since before she’d gotten pregnant with Emma.

Her brow creased. “Something wrong?”

Dean cleared his throat, looked at her and then away. “Chrissie and me are getting married.”

Summer had been so focused on Emma she hadn’t even noticed the woman waiting in the car.

Chrissie looked enough like her that they could be sisters. Same platinum hair, same fair tone to their skin, but this woman had a hard look to her. A partying girl where Summer had always been more a homebody. A girl up for anything, a wild one, happy to stay out half the night doing shots then throw her tank top off and run topless through the bar’s parking lot just for the attention. The kind of girl Dean always wanted Summer to be, only to be disappointed to discover she was anything but.

“Oh,” Summer said, surprised that he’d even think she’d care after all the misery he’d put her through. “Congratulations.”

That she hadn’t flown instantly into a jealous rage at the news seemed to melt the tension right out of his shoulders.

“I bet your momma’s excited about you get married again,” Summer said, just to say something. “I bet she’s all about doing up the wedding.”

He looked away, reaching into the pocket of his jeans. “We don’t want to tire her out. We’re just going to head out west. Get married in Vegas. Listen, I just—here.”

He shoved some papers at her, folded into quarters to fit in his front pocket, the edges worn.

“What’s this?” Summer asked, her frown deepening, already opening the papers to look at them.

Her mouth parted.

“I got it notarized and everything. Should be good to go.”

“Why?” she got out, looking right at Dean’s signature scrawled on the paperwork that waived his parental rights to Emma. “Why after all—why
now
?”

He glanced out the window, out at Chrissie sitting outside in the Hyundai. She was half-kneeling, the rearview mirror skewed so she could see herself to fix her makeup, apparently completely unaware that the passenger side sunshield would have a lighted mirror just for that purpose.

“Chrissie . . . Look, she just don’t want to be a mom.”

She stared. Your boyfriend having his kid once in a blue moon could hardly be called being a
mom
.

“I tried to call you,” he grumbled.

Summer scanned the paperwork, her heart pounding, trying to check it before he vanished again.

It looked all right. Everything looked in order.

“No,” she breathed. “It’s okay.”

Her grip tightened on the agreement as if he might snatch it back. Chrissie was regarding her reflection with a critical eye, turning her heavily made up face this way and that.

“You know this means you don’t get no child support or nothing.” His tone was halfway between surly and triumphant. “Not anymore.”

With Dean bouncing from job to job, taking one crap job after another and getting fired when he didn’t up and quit, the support the state forced him to pay was less than three hundred dollars a month.
And
he was late paying every damn time. The time and trouble it took to file the paperwork with the family court and have her lawyer remind him they could get a bench warrant for failure to pay, plus all the time and worrying herself sick he wouldn’t take proper care of Emma when he did take her wasn’t worth a million times that.

She gave a nod. “I got it covered.”

He paused at the door to the cabin. “She’ll be okay, right?” He glanced at his daughter, asleep on the sofa, her soft golden curls and rounded baby cheeks. “Even if she don’t have a daddy.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Summer pushed the storm door open in a not-so-subtle hint that he should get going. He took his time about it too, this boy who, no matter how old he got, would never really be a man, crossing to his car and getting in.

He said something to Chrissie and she gave Summer a catlike smug look as she settled into her seat. He fixed the rearview mirror she’d skewed and put his arm on the back of her seat, looking over his shoulder as he backed up, going fast enough to kick up a bunch of snow and ice.

“You look like a princess, Momma,” Emma murmured, her big blue eyes sleepy.

Summer smiled through tears and shut the door, sitting beside Emma on the sofa to smooth her hair back. “I missed you so much, sweetie.”

“I missed you too, Momma. Where’s Dean?”

“You mean Daddy?”

“He said I can’t call him Daddy no more.” Emma rubbed one eye with a chubby fist. “It makes Chrissie mad.”

“Oh. He’s gone home.”

Summer turned her face toward the window. It was starting to snow.

“Daddy’s gone home . . .”

Emma was blinking up at her.

“Come on, baby,” Summer said quickly, wrapping the blanket around her daughter and scooping her up.

“Momma?” Emma asked as Summer ran with her through the back door, her slippered feet crunching in the snow.

“It’s all right,” Summer panted, balancing Emma on her right hip, her daughter’s little arms tight around her neck. “Everything’s all right.”

“Why we out in the woods, Momma?”

Don’t be gone! Oh, God, please, don’t be gone!

Summer was out of breath, fighting the drifts, the cold air burning in her lungs as she ran.

“Ke’lar!”

Twenty-three

Every step away from her was more difficult than the last. It was as if Summer’s world itself pulled at his feet, dragging on his limbs to slow Ke’lar’s progress, to make the parting ever more painful.

He could understand now why so many warriors had simply stopped caring if they lived when the Scourge had taken their mates. Why it was better to die in a challenge over one than to survive it and live without her . . .

By force of will alone he kept going, one boot sinking into the snow after another, closer to the ship, to Hir, half a galaxy away from her and the child.

He had not gotten a good look at her, Summer’s child—
his
child—the human male blocked much of his view. He could see the top of her head, the shimmering gold of her hair, the curve of her cheek, but more importantly he had seen the love that lit Summer’s face when she gazed upon the girl . . .

Weeks ago he had gone into the forest to demand the All Mother reveal the purpose for his life—and She had.

To be their provider, their protector, was the reason for his existence. His chest ached with wanting to stay, to share in their lives. But it was impossible. To remain here would make him more burden than warrior.

Still, to go, to leave them here on this uncivilized world, unprotected, roiled his stomach, an act in defiance of every instinct he had.

He would never see the face of the child he sacrificed all to protect, he would never see his Summer again, and he clenched his fist to keep the keen from rising in his throat.

There would be time enough to mourn their loss when he had done all he could to keep them safe.

No other human must see him. His very presence here in this forest, so near his mate and child, endangered them.

His fingers felt clumsy as he keyed the control to open the ship’s door. The ship was warm and bright, in utter contrast to the fading light outside, the clouds heavy with snow, but he took no pleasure in its comforts. Only disgrace and banishment awaited him on Hir but until the Goddess took him, he was Summer’s mate and he would wear that honor proudly, be a warrior worthy of her. He would face them all without shame, without regret; all he had done had been for her.

You are well worth the price indeed, my mate.

He fell heavily into the pilot’s seat, looking dully out at the woods. Snow was beginning to fall, the flakes drifting through the air, and soon even their last steps together would be wiped away.

It was as if he left his lifeforce here, with her, as if his body and heart would forever be separated by the emptiness of space. Ke’lar closed his eyes briefly, his fingers resting on the ship’s controls as the vessel powered up.

May the All Mother stand in my stead and protect you always, my Summer, my child . . .

Then he keyed in the commands to lift the ship for the return to Hir.

Twenty-four

“Momma?”

“Ke’lar!”

Summer’s glance darted about, her quick breath visible in the cold. She’d run out here without a coat, intent on following the faint tracks she and Ke’lar had left, her long dress dragging behind her in the snow.

She couldn’t see anything but woods and drifts, and the falling flakes were making it harder. She was no g’hir warrior, no hunter. The trail to the ship had disappeared, or he’d covered it when he’d backtracked.

The ship was cloaked, equipped with advanced technology that allowed it to blend so perfectly into the surroundings she could be standing right next to it and miss it entirely.

Unless it wasn’t here to miss anymore.

No, no, please . . .

Summer’s nose was running, her eyes stinging from the icy wind, the thin crocheted blanket not nearly enough to keep Emma warm in the dead of a Smoky Mountain winter and they were both shivering.

“Momma?”

“Hold on, baby.” She scanned the ground as she walked, the snow halfway to her knees in places, looking for more footprints, for some hint which way to go. Why hadn’t she paid more attention?

How do I find him if I can’t see the ship!

“Ke’lar!”

Her cry echoed through the woods but there was no response, the woods as white and clear and empty as ever.

The ship was right here! Wasn’t it? Or maybe farther down, farther from the road—

The light was fading fast as the snowfall picked up. Summer spun around, her gaze darting around the woods, turning so she could see in every direction, searching the quiet winter forest.

If he were here he would have heard her calling him. She wouldn’t have had to call out to him at all; he was a g’hir warrior. He would have heard her coming, trudging through the snow.

If he were here . . .

He wasn’t safe here. We both knew that. He had to leave.

“Why are you crying, Mommy? Are you hurt?”

“I—” Summer swallowed hard. “I lost something, baby.”

Emma nestled closer. “I’m cold.”

“I am too, sweetie,” Summer whispered, her teeth chattering. Emma was heavy, even carried on her hip like this, but she wasn’t even wearing shoes, just socks, so she couldn’t put her down.

Emma was shivering and her own feet in Jenna’s damn slippers felt frozen. It was going to get dark soon; she couldn’t keep Emma out here like this.

“Let’s get you home,” Summer said numbly, turning that way. The way back was harder going. The snow seemed harder packed, with a crust of ice she had to break through with every step. There were drifts, some very deep, and Summer kept her head down, careful where she stepped.

Emma gasped, her tiny arms tightening around Summer’s neck in fright, and she quickly followed her daughter’s stare.

His face was softened by the fading winter light, strands of his long black hair were lifted by the wind, his glowing eyes a vibrant blue as they met hers. Standing here, in the woods, the snow swirling around him, he seemed not alien at all but some magical creature.

“Ke’lar!”

Summer stumbled toward him, half-afraid he was an illusion, a dream she’d conjured up that would vanish before she could reach him.

But his hands were the same warm, strong ones they had always been and they caught her as gently now as they had when she’d first begged him for help on Hir.

“Why are you here in the cold and snow?” he asked. “What has happened?”

It was so like that first meeting that Summer, her tears overflowing, started to laugh.

“How come your eyes look like that?” Emma asked.

Ke’lar’s throat worked for a moment as he beheld the child he considered to be his own. “Emma . . .”

He reached out to her then hesitated, his gaze anxious, but he would have little experience with any child and none with a human one.

“It’s okay,” Summer assured.

“She is so like you, my mate.” He touched the girl’s cheek with just the tips of his fingers, as if fearful she was too fragile even for that light caress, and next to Emma he seemed a giant indeed. “She is lovely beyond words.”

Emma regarded him with wide blue eyes and he addressed her.

“I am not human. I am g’hir,” Ke’lar rumbled, speaking very softly. “That is why my eyes are different.”

“He’s growling, Momma!” Emma cried. “Is he going bite me?”

“She cannot understand me.” Ke’lar’s shoulders slumped, utterly crestfallen. “She is afraid of me.”

“Emma, this is Ke’lar. He can understand what you say but you can’t understand him yet. I promise, though, he’ll always protect you. He will always keep you safe.”

Her daughter pondered that for a moment. “Like Beast?”

Ke’lar’s rippled brow creased. “A beast?”

Summer bit the inside of her cheek. Ke’lar was gorgeous. “She means Beast from
Beauty and the Beast
—it’s a movie, one for kids. He’s big and has fangs too but he’s nice to Belle. Emma loves that movie.”

He gave a g’hir nod even though it was clear he wasn’t really following. “She is shivering,” he said. “As are you. Why are you here? What has happened?”

“I was looking for you. I—” She tilted her head toward Emma. “We want to come back with you.”

He went still. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

“We want to come back with you,” she repeated. “Emma and I. To Hir.”

He wasn’t taking this the way she thought he would. In fact, he didn’t look happy about it at all.

“Don’t you—” Summer wet her lips. “Don’t you want us to?”

His throat worked and he glanced at Emma. “We must get her inside, we must get you both warm. Come—” He reached for the girl and surprisingly Emma went right to him. He held her easily, as if she weighed nothing at all, as if he could carry her forever. “We will return to your shelter.”

Summer got her and Emma into clean, warm clothes as soon as they got back to the cabin. While her sheepskin boots didn’t compare to the ones she’d left behind at the Erah clanhouse, after running through the snow in dancing slippers, they were positively toasty.

Emma was hungry, of course. Finding out that Dean had handed her a bag of junk food from the gas station when they filled up rather than take the time to stop and get her a real meal had Summer’s blood boiling so she put off Emma’s bath for after supper.

She’d been gone ten days so the milk was a loss but she had plenty on hand at the cabin that was still edible. She decided to make Emma’s favorite—spaghetti and meatballs—while Emma, with all the seriousness of a cultural ambassador, queued up the movie so Ke’lar could see who Belle was.

Summer had just put the water onto the stove to heat and managed to catch the look on Ke’lar face as Emma, an expert at using the remote at age three, scrambled onto the sofa to cuddle next to him.

G’hir didn’t tear up but his expression showed that with Emma tucking the blanket around them both and leaning against him, he would be if he could.

Summer set the table as Emma told Ke’lar all about the movie he was already watching. He listened patiently to her as she talked about Belle and Gaston and gave a solemn human-style nod when she assured him that the Beast wouldn’t really hurt Belle’s father.

He dwarfed Uncle Lester’s dining table and twirling the pasta proved such a challenge for him that Emma insisted Summer cut his spaghetti too. Emma talked a lot about her Granny Marthe, about watching TV and such, but it seemed that she hadn’t seen a whole lot of Dean during the visit.

Emma didn’t seem bothered by it but then again she’d seen so little of Dean in her short life she didn’t have any expectations of him either.

Ke’lar ate all Summer put on his plate, and seconds too, but he wasn’t saying much.

In fact, he wasn’t saying anything at all . . .

Summer chewed at the inside of her cheek as she gave Emma a quick bath. She struggled against the impulse to open the bathroom door and peek out to see if he was still there in the living room where she’d left him. In fact, she rushed Emma, who always liked to linger and play in the water, and got her bath done in record time.

She dried her daughter’s hair and watched Emma brush her teeth. As soon as she was dressed in clean pajamas she went racing out to the living room to Ke’lar.

His face lit with a smile when he saw them, but it was a strained one.

“
This
,”
Emma began, settling in beside him again and starting the movie where they’d left off before supper, “is where Belle goes to Beast’s castle, but don’t be scared, okay?”

He gave another human style nod. He was careful around Emma, even while eating, not to show his fangs if he could help it.

Summer perched on the sofa with them. Ke’lar seemed to be watching the movie but his continued silence made her stomach clench.

Belle and Beast were in the middle of their waltz when Summer glanced down at Emma and smiled.

“She’s asleep,” she whispered.

“I know,” he rumbled softly, his glowing eyes on the child who snuggled with such complete trust next to him.

Mrs. Potts was just finishing her song as Summer picked up the remote to shut the movie off.

“I should put her to bed,” she said into the sudden, awkward silence.

“Let me,” he said when Summer bent to take Emma. His growl was low so as not to wake the child, a little pleading, as if this was his only chance to carry her.

His last chance to see her.

Summer’s throat tightened and she gave a nod.

He stood, holding Emma carefully as he would a tiny bird, to carry her to her bed. He was so tall he had to duck under the doorway, waiting as Summer turned the sheets down.

He placed Emma gently on the bed and Summer tucked the blankets around her. Summer smoothed back one of Emma’s curls, her fingers touching her daughter’s soft rounded cheek for a moment.

Ke’lar hovered just inside the doorway, his face ragged, then he turned abruptly, gone from the room with a g’hir’s speed.

Summer ran after him, scarcely remembering to shut the bedroom door in her rush.

When she reached the living room she saw he hadn’t left, vanishing into the night, as she’d feared but his back was to her, his shoulders tense.

“Ke’lar?”

“I should never have let her see me,” he growled. “I should have not have lingered here.”

Summer folded her arms, holding them tightly against the ache in her ribs. “Look, if you don’t want me—if you don’t want to be saddled with a kid—just say so, damn it. It’s not like it’s the first, or even the
third
time, I’ve heard it.”

“Want you?” He turned, his glowing eyes wild. “I want for nothing else than you.” His glance went toward the bedroom where Emma slept. “Than our daughter. But I cannot stay here on Earth.”

Summer reached for him but something in his expression made her hesitate her.

“I know that. We’ll go with you. To Hir.”

“No,” he growled.

She blinked. “You said you wanted us—”

“I do. More than anything. But you hated my world, hated being a g’hir’s mate.” His hands clenched at his sides. “I will not grasp my own happiness at the cost of yours.”