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

As the sky darkened, she moved through the house, turning on lights, seeing to children who were confused and scared, handing out toasted painnea to Jasto’s family. They moved like androids, stiff and shocked and wooden. Even in grief, though, their love was felt. This was a family.

Their sorrow cast a different light on her own predicament.

She might be lost and alone in the universe at the moment, but she had Tor, at least for now.

Until tomorrow, when he’d take her to Pax-Ahora and leave her there.

Confusing Tor. Laughing Tor. Angry Tor. Tor of the hard hands and the angry dimples, the intoxicating scent, and the hot eyes that gleamed as if she were something special and rare. Tor who smelled like trees and night time, and who had traced his thumb along her ankle and made her heart stutter. Tor who slept behind her in the night.

Being parted from him felt wrong after all the days in his company, all the nights by his side. The forced intimacy had woven strange magic between them, born of sleepy murmurs and covers stirring in the night.

Tacit understanding had bloomed between them, bright and shiny as a bubble, warm and gossamer thin.

He’d felt it too. She’d seen it on his face at the strangest times.

She’d woken once to find him pressed against her, his hand cupping her breast. No, not cupping. More than that, his hand had palmed her breast like it belonged there. The broad, hard muscles of his chest had fit against her back like a missing piece of a puzzle, while he pressed hard and thick against her bottom.

She’d felt dizzy. And scared. But also, safe. She’d laid there in his bed, wrapped up in his arms, and felt something that she’d never felt before. Not just safe and protected, but somehow connected. His heart had thudded against her, his breaths drifting over her shoulder, and something had come to life within her.

Something she was afraid to poke too hard. Tomorrow they’d say goodbye forever, and where would she be?

Headed home to Argentus to live whatever life her father forced upon her. Somehow the thought made her even sadder than Agammo’s betrothal to Malina had. Without Tor, she felt off balance, uncomfortable, naked. The thought hurt like an old bruise, so she pushed it aside.

But still, she watched the door all evening, waiting for him to come, flinching at every sound, and fixated on meaningless tasks, like now. Organizing the toys on the children’s shelves for lack of anything better to do.

She dropped another block into a bin.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of heavy boots on the stairs outside had her turning toward the door, heart in her throat.

She froze, hand extended, holding a block toward a shelf.

The door opened with a click, and Jasto’s brothers entered. One after another. The roaring in her ears drowned out all sound. Their dark eyes were drawn tight. Heavy boots and haunted frowns.

And then Tor walked in.

Her stomach kicked and fluttered as he scanned the room, gaze drifting over the sofas and their myriad inhabitants, most of whom sat unmoving, still lost in the shock of Jasto’s death. His brow wrinkled at the empty kitchen, the windows overlooking the darkened garden.

When his eyes landed on her, she surged to her feet.

His jaw flexed, and he crossed the room in long-legged strides.

She clenched her hands. “You came back.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

Her mouth went dry as she let her gaze drift over his face, memorizing the unforgiving planes. “Not really, but I almost missed you.”

A dimple flashed. “Almost?”

“Almost.” She traced her toe along a swirl of amber on the carpet. “Not really.”

He’d stepped closer at some point. She hadn’t noticed, but somehow, he’d invaded her personal space, and on the carpet, his black boot was beside her stained slipper. A warm hand settled on her waist, drawing her against him until her breasts pressed against his chest.

And that noise was back, roaring in her ears like a tidal wave.

She rested her palm on his chest for balance.

Maybe he’d kiss her. She wanted him to, but he hadn’t made a move to do so since that first day on his ship when he’d kissed her against the wall. Maybe if he did it again, this time it wouldn’t be angry.

The thought slipped away when he touched her temple, his fingers sliding through her hair, down behind her ear, along her neck, over her shoulder, down her arm, to take her hand in his. Broad and dry, rough, callused fingers threaded through hers.

“D-did you book passage to Pax-Ahora?”

Something moved behind his eyes, something she hadn’t quite seen before. But before she could even try to understand what it was, it was gone. He grunted out his version of a yes.

“That’s good news. When does it leave?”

He made a face. “Tomorrow.”

She tried not to think about how odd it would be to say goodbye to him. “My father will repay you.”

“No need.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go.”

She drifted in his wake to where Neena, Jasto’s sister, sat at her husband’s side. Syena had long since gone upstairs.

“We’ll leave you now,” Tor said, in his deep, gravelly voice.

Neena rose to her feet, her eyes dropping briefly to their joined hands. “Stay the night if you like. Klymeni has been so kind.”

Tor shook his head. “We’ve intruded long enough.”

Neena surprised Klym. She reached out and drew her into a tight hug. Klym hadn’t hugged many people in her life. A few of the girls at the Institute, but never an older woman, never like this.

Tears burned in her eyes.

Neena’s slender arms were surprisingly strong. “He’s a good Prime.”

Klym glanced at Tor’s emotionless face.

The hug ended all too quickly. A Prime? APrime? Memories stirred of whispers across the bunk, of Vesta and the virility of men called Primes. A girl at school had a book filled with wicked tales of a woman in heat, tamed and claimed by something called a Vestigi Prime. She’d read it