Page 104 of The Seeker
He turned to her and his grin was wicked. “She’s a leader. Achief. Even if her people are gone. She understands honor, formality, and tradition.”
“She is going to hate you,” Meera said. “So much.”
“Probably. But I don’t think she’ll say no.”
Meera shook her head. “No, Rhys. She’s found refuge here. I don’t want to disturb—”
“This is not a refuge,” he whispered. “She’s hiding. She’s not a wounded bird. She’s a warrior who has given up because her army was defeated and now she doesn’t have a battle to fight. She needs to come face-to-face with the world as it is now, because we need her. We need her knowledge and her skills. And she needs to stop hiding.”
“You may not get the answer you want,” she said. “I just want you to prepare yourself. She may kick us out, and then what will we have?”
“We’ll have ourselves. And a very strange angel who’s oddly attached to you. But you know I’m right about Ata. If this will force her out of this swamp, it’s the right thing to do.”
Meera was silent.
“Sha ne’ev reshon,”Rhys whispered. “I would deny you nothing. Pissing off cranky old warriors is something I do on a near-daily basis in the course of my duties.”
“The formalities aren’t necessary, Rhys. We can be mated without them. We can have a simple ceremony—”
“And have you leave your parents’ home without the blessings and songs they have waited your whole life to give you?” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Never. I would never take that from you.”
She looked up and met his steady gaze. “I am a very wise woman who does many wise things.”
He smiled. “I agree with you.”
“But to take you, Rhys of Glast, as my mate,” she said, “might be the wisest choice I have ever made.”
What was that in his eyes? Was it love? Rhys folded her in his arms and pressed her cheek over his heart.
“Come to bed,” he whispered. “Tomorrow we can piss off an ancient warrior, but tonight you’re mine.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rhys woke with a naked Meera in his arms and the unflinching certainty that Atawakabiche, the Painted Wolf, last and most feared warrior of the Uwachi Toma, was going to make him pay dearly for this day. She would do what he wanted in the end, but sometime in the future he would pay. He glanced down at the woman lying across his chest, her hair spreading out in rippling feathers across his skin.
Worth it.
He kissed her shoulder and stroked a hand through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear before he traced the perfect shell decorated with delicate gold rings.
Creator, how have I pleased you? Show me, that I may always be so blessed.
“Meera,” he whispered.
“Hmph.” She wrinkled her nose and rubbed her eyes. “What?”
“We need to wake up and make ourselves as fancy as we possibly can under the circumstances.”
She grimaced, her eyes still pressed shut. “I left my fancy back in New Orleans.”
He smiled. “I left mine back in England. But we still need to make an effort.”
“Fine.” She rolled over and stretched across the moss-filled mattress. “How are we doing this?”
“As formally as possible. She’s a military leader and a chief. She’ll respond to formality and a sense of honor, even though it’s going to piss her off to high heaven that we’re making her do this.”
“And pissing off an ally we need and a source of invaluable magic is a task you want to take on?”
“I told you, pissing people off is practically my job description.” He slapped her bottom and spent a few pleasurable seconds watching it bounce. “I am becoming immeasurably fond of your bottom.”
