Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3 by Willow Danes

cheeks warmed. “Well, thanks. It’s such a rat’s nest, I’m probably just going to wind up tearing half my hair out.”
    She reached for the comb but before her fingers closed around it he moved with a smooth g’hir quickness, taking up position behind her.
    “It is not as bad as you say,” he assured her, his body warm at her back as he took the strands between his fingers.
    He deftly worked at the knots out, his alien dexterity allowing him to untangle them without so much as a tug.
    “You are fair enough to be born of the Yir clan,” he rumbled, his voice like soft thunder in her ear. “Some of them have hair this bright.”
    “I uh—” She cleared her throat. The brush of his fingers over the nape of her neck sent tingles running through her body. His gentle coaxing had some of the strands tamed already, the comb and his fingers sliding through her hair. “I didn’t know g’hir could be blond. I’ve only seen the Betari clan.” She looked back at Ke’lar. His hair was so dark it reflected blue in the sunlight. “And you.”
    He blinked and paused in his task. “The Betari did not let you see any not of their clan? How is that possible? You should have been taken to the medical center at Be’lyn City, at the very least, for a health evaluation.”
    “Well, I wasn’t,” she said shortly, facing away again. “Ar’ar kidnapped me, he imprisoned me at the enclosure, and Mirak made it clear I’d never leave it again.”
    “I am sorry, Summer.” His hand smoothed her hair, his touch soothing, his rumble soft in her ear. “It was not supposed to be this way.”
    “Really?” she asked, her throat tight. “How was it supposed to be then?”
    “You were to be treated with all honor, cherished, respected—”
    Her nostrils flared as she faced him and he dropped his hands at her glare.
    “I’m a goddamn hunting prize, Ke’lar! A pelt on a floor, a head mounted on a wall. As long as I’m able to breed that’s all the g’hir care about.”
    “That is not so! The Betari should never have treated you this way, never made you doubt your worth.”  His face worked for a moment. “Never made you fear us.”
    “Oh, don’t worry. It’ll take a hell of a lot more to break me .” Summer lifted her chin. “And I’m not afraid of the g’hir.”
    “No.” His blue gaze was raw, the comb clenched in his hand. “You simply hate us.”
    “After what they did to me? What the fuck do you expect?”
    “I am g’hir,” he rumbled, searching her eyes. “Do you hate me as well, Summer?”
    “ You? ” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “That’s not—Look, you’ve got to understand. Ar’ar—”
    His fangs bared. “I am not Ar’ar!”
    “I know that, goddamn it!”
    “Do you?” he demanded. “Do you truly know me to be a different man?”
    Summer threw her hands out in frustration. “You said yourself that you’d take a human mate if you had half a chance! That doesn’t make you much different, does it?”
    His blue eyes flashed. “I will never treat a mate as Ar’ar has! The arrogance! The ingratitude! I would never have let anyone—”
    He broke off and looked away, his grip tight on the comb.
    “Look—” She wet her lips. “Ke’lar, I really appreciate all that you’ve—”
    “By the All Mother, please do not thank me,” he interrupted, shutting his eyes for a moment. “These wrongs done you, Summer, I cannot ever set to right.” He offered her the comb and she took it from his hand. “The Betari sought to deny you a Day of Choosing, they kept you isolated, prevented you from receiving even the most basic medical evaluation by an impartial healer. They have acted unconscionably.” He took a step back, his voice hoarse. “And you have every right to hate my kind.”

Eight

     
    “What’s wrong with her?” Summer asked, holding her hand up against the pelting rain as Ke’lar dismounted from his place behind her, keeping hold of the reins, his brow furrowed as