The Taming: Book 3 in the Tribe Warrior Series by Imogen Keeper (romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

Her stomach hitched at the raw rasp in his voice.

He moved his shoulders abruptly, shifting his grip on the body bag. “You want freedom? There’s no such thing. No one is free. Not for long, anyway. Not you and not me. Life and death. That’s all there is. You do something, someone gets hurt. That’s called consequence. That’s reality.”

She had to jog to catch up, wincing the whole way. “Reality. I was born on a planet where nearly ninety percent of the women died. My mother died just after I was born. And you’re right, this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Being lost and disowned and stuck a hundred million miles away from the only place I’ve ever known, with you of all people.” Her dark glasses had slid down her nose, and she shoved at them. “And I have been spanked. And it didn’t make me any wiser!”

He slanted her a look at that.

She realized she was screaming, loud and rather shrill, and immediately lowered her voice. “I have never done anything or been anywhere or been free to choose anything because gods forbid I got sick and died and couldn’t help rebuild the Argenti race. Even my diet was carefully crafted to encourage fertility. No one talks about it because it’s ugly, but that’s what I was. A breeder. With one value. All the babies I could pump out.”

It was true.

She’d never actually said it aloud before. Never even really thought it in such stark, opaque terms.

No one had ever looked at her and seen anything more than the value of what she could do for the planet’s population.

“If that were the case, they’d have had you strapped to a gurney and bred you as soon as they could.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah. And they didn’t do that.”

She curled her fingers into fists and looked away. The ship was closer now, shimmering in the heat. Not too far now.

“Nothing is fair, amiera. And no one is free.”

She breathed deeply through her nose, trying to calm herself. Amiera. Amiera. Amiera!

She knew what that word meant, and every time it grated. It was as insulting as everything else he’d ever said to her. She glared at his massive form, hulking under the weight of a dead body. It was all too much. She couldn’t handle any more hatred. Not today.

“I’m not a princess!” She kicked the back of his kneecap, right where she’d seen in the holo-flicks. It worked perfectly.

His leg went out from under him.

His knee hit the ground, and the body bag toppled forward over his shoulder.

“And I’m not stupid.”

She didn’t stop to see what else would happen, just took off running, slipping on the blood in her slippers, to the hatch door of the spaceship. Behind her, he roared.

She pushed the release button, and the seal hissed as it popped open. She darted inside.

He was barreling after her, the body left in the dust where she’d kicked him.

She pushed the close button on a wall panel beside the hatch.

Torum got closer.

The door was moving too slowly. Far too slowly.

And he was too fast!

He was bellowing. The hat had fallen off. His arms were pumping. Dust flew up in his wake like miniature tornados.

Too fast.

She shoved at the hatch, putting her entire body into pushing the sliding hatch door. It wasn’t moving fast enough.

Torum was only a few yards away.

She shoved harder.

The hatch snicked.

He slammed against the hull.

With a deep breath, she activated the lock.

His furious face filled the tiny porthole. His massive fist pounded on the door with harsh, metallic bangs.

“Sorry, Torum,” she shouted through the porthole. “Is this not fair?”

His teeth bared in a snarl. The bangs grew louder.

She turned away from the rage on his face.

7

Oops

KLYM HAD ALWAYS had an impulsive streak. It was true.

There was the time during her eighth year, when she’d thrown her stylus at Tutor Heilani’s head. He’d made her so mad, though. She just hadn’t been able to stop herself. It had bounced off his big, bald pate, and he’d turned puce.

She’d been confined to her chambers for two days, even for meals, and sentenced to three raps on her bottom. The raps had never been hard, but they’d been embarrassing, administered by the old grump at assembly for all to see.

And then there was the time she’d absconded with Malina. They’d climbed over the Institute’s walls and watched the sun set, orangey-pink over the sound, listened to the harpist in the piazza outside the courthouse, and eaten fruit icies they’d purchased with the cred chit Malina had stolen from her father when he’d come to visit. The punishment had been a good deal more severe for that. She winced just thinking of it. It had been so worth it, though. A whole day of freedom.

But this—locking Torum out of his own ship—this was the height of impulsiveness.

This was reckless. Far more reckless than that kiss.

The punishment would be far worse. He’d only just finished telling her about consequences.

“Consequences, Torum. This is the consequence of your rudeness,” she shouted at the window.

As if on cue, his face appeared in the circular porthole, twisted in a frenzy of wrath against the setting sun.

He smashed his fist against the porthole again, shouting and cursing, hardly a rousing inducement to let him in.

She made a face. “Sorry, Torum,” she shouted. “I’ve had enough of your bellowing. I’ll come back when you’ve calmed down, and we can have a rationaldiscussion about this.”

He slammed his flat palm against the glass so hard she jumped.

“None of that now, Torum. If you want to come back in, you’ll have to get a hold of yourself.”

He snarled.

She waggled her finger one last time and hobbled down the passageway toward the bridge. She’d watched him enter the codes on the foreign buttons. The comm surged to life, buzzing as it contacted Agammo’s house. To no avail. No one answered. Her heart plummeted. Where was he?

More bangs sounded from the back of the ship.

Staring at the vast