Kiera's Moon

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

A’Ran watched her off and on during the several days she spent alone. She was very unlike the women of his society. Where Anshan—and even Qatwal—women would wait for their men to direct them, his woman had disassembled everything in the room she could. The access pad was useless, the clothing unit jammed, the communication monitor too covered with handprints from her searching to work right. Her translator had been lost during restless sleep then crushed in her pacing, and the cell was littered with several dozen pieces of colorful clothing.

It took him a full day to realize she didn’t know how to exit her room, that her intent at disassembling the access pad had been to make it work for her. The Anshan ships didn’t work like the Qatwali ships did; her access needed to be programmed into the computer, but she’d broken the pad before Ne’Rin could do it. Once she disabled her translator, he couldn’t communicate with her. Her tampering successfully sealed her in the room.

Which would’ve been fine, for an Anshan woman, but appeared to be nothing short of torture to her. She was impatient, anxious, emotional … nothing like the women he knew, which both interested him and warned him. He waited two more days to see if she would settle. She grew worse. It might take all three sisters to rein her in, if even their hands were firm enough.

He liked watching her despite her odd actions. The craft’s computer assured him her health was good; she was just distressed. He’d left her door broken and postponed leaving the ship until she calmed. But as the days continued, he realized that wouldn’t happen. On the third day, he decided to land.

A’Ran sent for his sisters to meet them outside the small dwelling they had taken refuge in several years ago. When Ne’Rin signaled all was ready, he strode from the deck into the corridor and straight to her cell. The door jammed at his first attempt to open it. He waited for Ne’Rin to fix it and tried again.

It opened, and the exotic woman within turned to him, surprise on her face. He beckoned her forward and stepped back for her to move into the hall. His woman hurried forward to the hall but stopped in front of him, her intelligent eyes flashing with anger. Without a word, she slapped him.

Women never slapped warriors. In fact, no one slapped a warrior full grown, not even his father.

A’Ran stared at her hard, surprised. He conveyed his displeasure with his body rather than his voice. He tensed and straightened, then backed her into the wall. She didn’t back down, a trait he was not certain he liked for his woman. She gazed up at him with angry eyes, and he stepped forward until her lush little body was pinned by his to the wall. He felt her racing heart and heard her breathing become uneven. His eyes scoured her face, lingered on the plump lips he had tasted, and glanced lower at the healthy bosom pressed to his chest.

Suns, but she was perfect.

Her face deepened to crimson, and her dilating eyes dropped to his lips before flying up again. She tore her gaze away and twisted her head, yielding yet defying him as well. She was tense and waiting while his eyes took in every detail of her face. She smelled of woman, a husky, sweet, faint scent.

He stepped away. She understood him and obviously felt the same energy he did when they touched. It was enough to satisfy him. Warriors were known for their patience and control, but he sensed this woman would test both. He nodded his head to the side in a silent order for her to proceed. She marched away from him. If he channeled that fire, he might find he liked her defiant passion.

A’Ran trailed several steps, watching the way her hips sashayed as she walked. Her walk was unguarded like her mannerisms, a sweet lack of refinement he wasn’t sure he liked. Her pace slowed as she caught sight of Ne’Rin. He nodded to his advisor, who waved his wrist before the access pad.