Page 21 of Romancing Rem'eb

I pull away from him, frustrated. Something tells me that I’m going to be “freed” when we’ve resonated and I’m pregnant with his kid. And then there’ll be a different excuse as to why he won’t take me back to my people. He might be all talk and no action.

Well, I’m not going to sit and wait for something to happen. I’ve done that far too much in the past. I push past him and head for the door, intending to storm out just to see what happens. I didn’t see a guard earlier. I haven’t heard one in a while. There might not be one tonight (or whatever time it is right now). If there’s no guard, I can escape at any time. He said R’jaal was in a tunnel. I just need to find the right one.

Surely I can figure out how to get to the surface. How deep can a tunnel underground with people in it possibly be? They’ll need oxygen and food and water.

Before my hand can touch the door, strong arms snag me, pulling me backward. I hiss with anger and before I can shriek my frustration, a hand covers my mouth. I fight like a demon, but Rem’eb has too many hands. Flailing, I slap at him. He doesn’t grope me, though. He holds me carefully, and when he sighs in my ear, it sounds like defeat.

“You cannot go out, Tia. I am sorry. I cannot let you. Not yet.”

“When?” I demand. “When I’m knocked up? You tricked me. You’re just as bad as the ones that stole me.”

He ignores my angry words, stroking my flying hair back from my face and then patting my shoulder again. “I will return with your next meal at tide-rise.”

His touch lingers on my skin before he reluctantly lets me go. This time, when he leaves, I see the form of a hulking guard standing near the doorway, trying to peer in before Rem’eb shoulders him aside.

So I’m still guarded. There’s no way I’m getting out of here on my own at this rate. I need a miracle.

Or a friend.

Chapter

Ten

REM’EB

The next day is a trying one. I can do nothing right.

I dream of Tia in my sleep, of her soft lips brushing over my cheek, and then moving to my neck, and then further down my body. I wake up with my hand on my stiff cock, my heart racing. I take care of myself and then spend my resting time pacing in my small home instead. If I close my eyes, I will see Tia again, her hands all over me, her lips adventuring to new places upon my body, and I cannot focus. So I pace.

When the water clock shows that it is tide-rise, I reset it and pack my fishing gear. Instead of heading directly to the lake as is my normal route, I head to my father’s instead. All eyes in the village feel as if they are upon me, watching my every move and wondering at my actions. We are creatures of habit, our people. Anyone that acts in a different pattern than normal will have people talking. I feel conspicuous as I hurry past the long stretch of wall and nod at the guards as I head to my father’s home.

Once inside, I set my gear down, take the food tray his attendant has prepared, and then disappear through the back to the storage buildings, where Tia is kept under guard. My dreams were full of lip brushes, but the reality is that Tia is angry with me. She does not speak to me when I enter, and her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed as if she had been weeping. She does not reach for the food I brought, and I reluctantly leave her side, feeling as if I have failed her.

And because this day cannot get any worse, when I get to the lake, So’ran the Bitter is waiting for me. I ignore him, moving down the rocky slope to my favorite spot, and he picks up his line and follows me.

“I would speak with you, Rem’eb the Fist,” he calls out.

“I am not in the mood for speaking.”

He ignores my politely worded request and moves to stand at my side, close enough that I cannot ignore him. “You are acting strangely.”

“I have had a gut sickness that I could not shake,” I say, concentrating on unraveling my line so I can attach the sinker to it. “My father has a tea that helps. I have been taking meals with him.”

“Then why do you run past the wall?”

I look up, startled. “What?”

My once-friend’s eyes are narrow and full of suspicion as he regards me. “Someone saw you rushing past the wall yesterday. This morning, An’var the Early was on duty and confirmed it. You move past it as quickly as possible and keep your head down, almost as if you wish to not catch the attention of any female that might linger there. What has changed?”

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “Nothing.”

I cannot tell him the wall makes me uneasy now that I have met Tia.

“If it is nothing, why rush? Do you not want a mate? Sons?” He tilts his head, regarding me, his voice casual. “Or is this another scheme of your father’s?”

My tail twitches, but I do my best to not give away just how close So’ran is to the truth. If he knew of Tia’s existence, he would be storming the wall to claim one of our females for himself. Or worse—he would do his best to snatch more strangers from above. Neither situation bodes well for our people. He will destroy our fragile existence all because he is lonely. “I am spending time with my father because he wishes to speak with his only son. You are far too suspicious. Perhaps you should stop spending so much time with those that despise him. You are seeing shadows where there are none.”

We glare at each other, neither of us moving or breaking eye contact. I know if I flinch away first, he will continue to suspect me. He cannot know of Tia’s existence. He will not look to free her—he will spirit her away into one of the less-used tunnels and try to save her for himself. He will hold her hostage until she resonates to him.

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