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

long ago and thought it a myth, like vampires and werebears.

Neena turned to pull Tor into a tight hug. “You’ve seen the news, right? Syena’s been watching it upstairs.”

“Some.”

“You’re famous,” she said.

“How?”

She grabbed a digi from the table and read aloud, “The soon-to-be Regio of Tamminia, Prime Torum TaKarian has abducted the daughter of notorious Argenti War Chief…

That wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Agammo had said as much.

“Everyone is asking what would happen if a Vestige Prime claimed an Argenti woman,” said Neena, and her brothers laughed on the sofa.

Tor grunted.

“What’s a regio?” Klym asked.

Neena cocked her head.

Tor lifted a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”

Neena poked his stomach, making him step back, glaring. “It does. You call them ‘lords’ in Argentus.”

“You’re a lord?” Klym tried to reconcile the coarse, shouting man she knew with the dignified lords back home.

“Lords are from Argentus. Pussies with soft hands.” Tor slapped his thumb against his chest. “I’m a Vestige Prime.”

One of Jasto’s brothers spoke from the sofa. “It’s more like being the king.”

“King?” Klym said faintly.

Tor’s dimple did that flickering thing it did when he was annoyed, that told her he was gritting his teeth, and he said something back too fast for her to gather. Neena responded at rapid fire. Klym only caught snippets of words. Prime again. And selissa. And felana.

Finally, they said goodbye again, and Tor stomped across the room, grabbed her shawl off a chair by the door, and ignominiously shoved her outside.

King? Tor was a king? “You’re a king?” she hissed on the steps outside.

“Shut up, Klym.”

Regio. Prime. Selissa. Felana. She repeated the words in her head so she wouldn’t forget them as he dropped the shawl around her shoulders. Tor was a king. Tor was a Prime? Like in the story?

She glanced at him and wondered what that entailed.

The air outside pressed in close, thick with the damp and chill of the night. Darkness enveloped them, and the silence stretched.

“If you’re a king, why are you so rude?”

“Have you known a lot of kings?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. But I’ve known one regio. My father, and he was the rudest bastard you’d ever hope to meet.”

Klym thought about that for a while. It made sense. If a king was rude, who would tell him not to be rude anymore? Maybe his wife. “Are you like him, then? Your father?”

“I try every day to be nothing like him. I wasn’t supposed to have to be regio. My brother died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. You’d have liked him. He wasn’t rude.”

A damp breeze tugged at her hair, the kind that sliced right through to the bones, and she shivered. He wrapped a thick arm around her waist and tugged her closer.

“So that’s why you’re going back? Even though you don’t want to.”

The dimple flickered, and his mouth hardened.

“You’re a good man. Even if you’re rude. You make a good ki—”

“Klym, shut up. I’m not a king.” His grip hardened. “And I’m not a good man either.”

They turned out of the neighborhood and onto the main street that led into town. She couldn’t control herself anymore—the curiosity was killing her. “If you don’t want to talk about being a king, then let’s talk about Primes.”

His fingers tightened at her waist. “Not really an appropriate conversation for someone who claims not to know what pussy means.”

“Why? Don’t tell me it means beans too?”

“No.” His voice carried the faint weight of amusement.

“Then what?”

The light from the windows of a house revealed him smiling wryly.

“Is it something... lewd?” She held her breath. Maybe it was true, about the book and the Prime.

“Lewd?” The hazy light caressed the wicked curve of his lips. “No. Not lewd. But it involves mating rituals and reproduction on Vesta.”

“Reproduction?” She gulped. “You mean... she was talking aboutsex? With reproductive... organs?” She whispered the last word, fiercely grateful for the cover of darkness.

His eyes did that thing they did when he was amused, got all warm and crinkly in the corners. “Yes, Klym. Sex. I know, it’s all too shocking.” He said the last part in a mocking falsetto.

“Wh-what about them?”

White teeth flashed. “All this talk about my organ, Klym. If you’re so interested in it, say the word.”

The noise that came out of her throat was somewhere between a squeak and a gasp. She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

They continued in silence over the bridge with the faint tinkle of running water, and past the spot where they’d seen the man playing the flute earlier.

“On Argentus, you form Bonds, right?”

This new topic didn’t do a thing to remove the awkwardness of the conversation. Argenti Bondings were lengthy rituals, commonly referred to as the red haze, days upon days of nothing but mating. Her cheeks heated at the thought.

“It’s a ritual for you.” Tor’s voice was quiet. “And you end up mutually dependent.” The way he said it, it almost sounded as if he were testing her.

“I am familiar with the details of Bonding rituals on my own planet, thank you.”

“Wasn’t sure they taught that in fancy Argenti schools.”

“I’m not entirely ignorant, you know.” A light drizzle fell from the sky. He tugged her back against the warmth of his body, a broad hand on her waist. His thumb was just below her breast, and his pinkie settled on the rise of her hipbone.

“That Bonding developed to protect offspring,” he continued. “The entire population. It was an adaptation. On Vesta, our evolution had a different solution to combat population drops from the plagues.”

She’d never thought about the Bonding as a matter of evolution. At the Institute, they’d all sighed and whispered, giggling at the thought of going through the ritual with their future mates. She’d always imagined it as somewhat blurry and warm. That she and Agammo would become a family. That was all she’d ever wanted.

The way Tor spoke of it, though, there was a darker edge to it. An imperative of nature, designed to protect the future of their race against the crippling plagues that had killed off