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

course of my life without so much as a thought to my preference.”

He stood, filling up the ship, so big and broad. It wasn’t an accident. He was reminding her of just how little control she had. He looked down at her from his great height and let his body do all the menacing it needed to remind her that she couldn’t stop him. She’d never be able to stop him. “I didn’t pretend to be a saint, amiera.”

“I’m not your princess,” she whispered.

A wry smile stretched across his face. “That’s right. You’re a queen now.”

“Never. I won’t ever Bond with you.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this.” She turned on her heel and headed to the only place on the ship she was sure he wouldn’t bother her. The same place she’d always gone to think and cry and be alone. There hadn’t been many places at the Institute where it was guaranteed no one would bother a person, but the bathing chamber had always been reliable.

So that’s where she went. To the cold comfort of a toilet. Toilets, whatever their other less attractive attributes, did not abduct people.

A crash echoed down the hallway.

17

Noodles in the face

TOR HAD TO GIVE KLYM CREDIT. The woman could hold a grudge. He’d straight-up abducted her this time, so he’d expected some amount of surliness and pouting. Maybe attempts to barter, escape, threaten him with a knife, but he had not expected the all-out war of frigidity she rained down on him.

Silent treatment again.

And this time, it wasn’t funny, or annoying, or even frustrating. Every time she looked at him, those gray eyes tightened, and she just looked as sad as if he’d shat in her breakfast, killed her prize pig, and broken her heart all at once.

He hated feeling guilty.

He considered a hundred times telling her about the peace deal with Franno, but it wasn’t even finalized, and she’d think that was the only reason he’d taken her, and it wasn’t.

If she’d think clearly for one minute, she would see that he offered her more freedom than she ever could have had on Argentus.

For two days, she moved around the ship as if he were invisible.

For two nights, she steadfastly refused to sleep in his bed. He’d considered pressing the issue, using brute force to get her there and tie her down, but sad Klym wasn’t any fun.

She’d taken a long look at Jasto’s bed, then carried a pillow and a couple towels down the hall to the bathing chamber, where she sat with her stupid holo-cam all day.

He tried everything. Prepared breakfast each morning before she woke. The painnea sliced and waiting, with lintorippi berry jam, just as she liked it. Her eeffoc black and hot, how she always drank it.

He stood there like a damned servant, and she didn’t even acknowledge him. Just left the plate untouched. Making her own food, eating it in the corner, and then retreating back to the bathing chamber.

Always, that migane of a bathing chamber.

Giving her space wasn’t working.

Time to change tactics.

“Your dress is dirty,” he said, on the third morning, staring at her curled up in her seat in the bridge.

It was true. It had stains from the kids at Syena’s house, and the hem was dirty from their walk through the town. She’d spilled eeffoc on her chest yesterday morning when he’d barged in on her.

Her head swiveled slowly, her brows raised in haughty disdain.

“It’s stained,” he said, tugging at his ear. “Don’t even get me started on your shoes. They’re nasty.”

Her chin jutted forward.

“I could put them in the washer for you.”

She inhaled sharply.

“But you’d have to take them off.”

Her chin lifted higher. “You could show me where it is. I’m sure I could figure out how to use it.”

“Nah, I need to sell this ship for Syena. Wouldn’t want to risk you jamming it. Repairs on washers take forever. Look, I didn’t want to have to tell you this...” He bit down on the inside of his cheek, remembering their first conversation back on Spiro’s ship. It would only piss her off more. “But you smell.”

Her nostrils flared, and her mouth twitched. She rose, skirts swirling around her ankles, and marched down the passageway.

“You’re going to have to meet my mother, and my father’s other felanas, and my sisters in that dress. About sixty women or so live in my house. Not to mention my brothers and the servants. And Vestige have powerful noses. That’s a lot of people, eager to slap their eyes on you, their brand-new selissa. I mean, hell, the media might be there. It’s a big deal. Me coming home with an alien selissa in tow.” He trailed his tongue over his teeth. “You sure you don’t want me to wash them?”

She froze mid-step.

He smiled at her back. “They’ll whisper if you show up stinky and dirty.”

Her fists tightening by her sides, the elegant, angry steps resumed.

She’d come back.

She did. Faster than he’d have guessed.

He was distracted, tracking their progress—eight more days to Vesta—when a bundle smacked him in the side of his face.

It landed in a lacy pile on the floor by his seat. Her dress and bodice.

He turned toward her. She lobbed two soft objects in his direction, and he didn’t bother blocking them.

Two more small thwacks got him in the shoulder and chest.

Her stockings fell to his lap.

Then came the slippers. They landed softly on the console.

And then her corset. And that he did catch, fighting back a smile, because at least she was fighting back now, and Klym in a temper was a sight to behold.

She’d put on one of his shirts again. Her tan, smooth legs gleamed in the ship’s daytime-simulation lights. That mass of golden hair drifted down her shoulders, and he was certain, beneath those crossed arms, her nipples were dark and hard against the thin, white fabric.

She crossed her arms, head cocking slightly, legs spread like a righteous vintalla, the female warriors on Vesta. She looked proud