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

few Primes. He wanted the tyranny of the Alliance done, not just for them, but for himself too. For his children. The thought made him smile. Would his children have warm honey skin like Klym, or pale like his? Black hair or gold? And their eyes? Had an Argenti and a Vestige ever had a child? The thought made his blood thrum. “I’m counting on it. If we are going to withdraw from the Alliance, I need to know where the nobles’ loyalties lie. With Tamminia or with the Alliance.”

Gaspart snorted. “Easy words. Hard answers.”

“Do you know who will swing which way?”

Gaspart’s eyes gleamed. “I can guess. But a guess isn’t good enough. We need to know.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So, we start with Windio. Then Fandig. We go from there.”

Tor crossed his arms behind his head, watching Klym as she took a sip of her water, her face tight and composed. Someday, he’d clear this hall, spread her out over the table under the light of the glittering starflies, and ride her hard.

Twelve days to gather support. Twelve days to convince her to stay, despite the damned harem. Twelve days to stop a war.

“Klym can deliver Argentus. We will make peace with our greatest enemy, and the Alliance will have no war to fill its coffers.”

A smile spread across Gaspart’s face. “You’ve changed indeed, Regio.”

22

Let them hear,

Let them all hear

AS THE LAST rays of the sun set, the glass columns came alive inside with millions of glowing insects that Kiava, the woman on her left, and Staria, the woman on her right, called starflies. They swarmed and fluttered in the columns like mauve and amber stars, bathing the diners in warm light.

Incense and spices floated in the warm air, and somewhere, someone played a song that was thick with drums, a deep, driving beat that called to her angry heart. She sipped whatever was in her goblet until her blood warmed, her belly settled, and she could look at Tor without wanting to clamber atop the table and stomp her feet, breaking every plate and glass in her path, screaming until her face turned blue.

He, on the other hand, was calm and regal, leaning back in his chair, resting his elbow on an armrest, chin in his hand, laughing indolently at something Gaspart said.

At ease. Brutally handsome. Or handsomely brutal. Both.

She hated him so much her eyes burned.

He’d tied his hair back again, and the light played under his sharp cheekbones, his black eyes glittering warmly whenever they fell on her. And fall on her they often did. She smiled sweetly each and every time, careful not to give any indication that she’d like nothing more than to claw his eyes out and spit in the sockets.

He’d given her such hell for Spiro and Agammo.

When the last plate had been cleared, Tor pushed back his chair.

A hush settled across the room, as if twenty-seven felanas held their bated breaths, hoping he’d cross the room for them.

He didn’t.

He came for her, carrying her plant, eyes warm. He should have looked ridiculous—tall, dark and menacing, carrying a cluster of flowers—but he didn’t. Not even a little bit.

He just looked perfect.

That dimple was back in his cheek as he stretched out his hand to her and helped her rise. “Get enough to eat?”

“Oh, I had more than enough,” she said with such relish, it came out a purr.

A wary dimple fluttered across one cheek, but all he said was, “Good.”

He led her down an arched hallway built of stones that sparkled, lighted again by glass tubes of starflies, fluttering away. The noise from the banquet hall faded and nothing but night birds and distant drums greeted them.

“I sat next to felanas,” she said idly.

His shoulders stiffened.

“Two of them, in fact. Their names were Kiava and Staria. Do you remember them?”

He trailed his tongue along his upper teeth, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think so.”

They passed through the main body of the residence, a massive hall that would have rivaled anything on Argentus. Dark, gleaming floors were cut by jagged bronze walls rising high overhead, interspersed with lighted amber glass, surrounding them. An alien landscape all on its own.

“They were full of stories.” She glared up at him as he led her up a cantilevered staircase, her fingers curling into his forearm.

He raised a brow.

“They told me about your tattoos. Your treks. Your prowess in battle. Your scars that you won’t tell me about. Your many conquests. Tell me, Tor, just how many women have you slept with?”

He sighed. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.”

“Why not? I’m not actually your selissa. I don’t mind a bit hearing about all the women you’ve had. At least four names were given, but the implication was that there had been many more. They found it to be quite impressive.” She nearly choked on the last part. “I found it revolting. The men of Argentus aren’t so disgustingly prolific. They are with one woman, a dominess, before they take their mate. But you.”

“Ah, shit,” he muttered at the top of the stairs, tucking her plant under his arm, one hand tightening around her waist.

She made a half-hearted attempt to brush his hands off, but they stayed strong.

He propelled her forward so she walked in front of him, down a hallway with a long, ornately patterned carpet and a carved doorway at the end. He didn’t speak as he opened it and pulled her inside.

Cool, balmy air assaulted her, scented with the same sweet flower she’d noticed at the hangar when they’d landed. The back wall of the chamber opened to a patio. In the distance, the beating drums sounded.

That muscle in his jaw worked as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you were upset.”

She tightened her fists, gritting her teeth, finally letting the polite mask slip. “Upset? Why should I be upset, hearing about how boisterous you were in bed with every felana in the city? Or how many times you brought them to climax.