Page 17 of Tavarr's Mate
No one explains Tavarr’s presence, but then they don’t need to. It’s obvious why he’s here—Prince Kenan must think he’s an acceptable mate for me.
So much for convincing the prince to allow me to work as a servant or a slave in Zandek’s household. My heart sinks, but I try my best to act normal and go through the motions of dinner. The Ghessan servants bring in several courses of seafood dishes and other Kleaxian delicacies, and I’m thankful Zell keeps my wine glass filled. I need the buzz of the alcohol tonight more than ever.
Fortunately, I’m seated between Laylah and Helena, and the three Kleaxians sit across from us at the dining room table. Tavarr stares at me the whole time, his gaze penetrating to my core, but at least he’s not seated beside me. He doesn’t speak English, or if he does, he chooses to converse in his native tongue. He’s quiet but brooding during the dinner, only speaking to Prince Kenan and Zandek in a hushed tone a few times.
“Tavarr will be staying in town for some time, assisting in the training exercises of my warriors,” the prince says, looking at me. “He also has a desire to learn your language and will take lessons from Zandek.”
“Should I see a room is prepared for Tavarr?” Helena asks. “Or will he be staying with you and Laylah?”
“Tavarr will be staying next door, as the house is now empty,” Prince Kenan says.
Next door? In Vonn’s old house? So close?
My pulse quickens and flutters besiege my stomach. I place my hands in my lap so no one witnesses them shaking. Tavarr’s dark gaze unnerves me, but not simply because he’s a stranger and I think he wants to claim me as his mate when the year is over.
I’m also uneasy around him because his lustful looks affect me more than I care to admit, making me flush and squirm.
After the abuse I suffered at Vonn’s hands, I’m taken aback by my own visceral reaction, truly shocked that I’m capable of experiencing an attraction to a Kleaxian male in the first place, let alone so soon.
Eight or nine weeks. That’s how long it’s been since I awoke upstairs to learn Vonn had been executed and a doctor had healed my life-threatening injuries. The night Vonn beat me unconscious is still fuzzy. All I remember is cold, mind-numbing fear, followed by floating, and ending with a tumble into a black void.
I endeavor not to let Tavarr in, to ignore him as much as possible in hopes that he will lose interest and take another female to mate. I visualize an impenetrable shield forming around myself, one that will keep him from affecting me in any way.
But it doesn’t work. Even when my eyes are lowered to the table, I can still feel his intense stare, as if he’s branding me with his gaze alone. The urge to squirm and enjoy the delicious tingling pulses in my core increases, despite my efforts to ignore my growing arousal.
How can he affect me with his gaze alone, even when my eyes aren’t staring directly into his?
I weave my fingers tight together and focus on breathing in and out slowly, but no matter how hard I try to ignore Tavarr, his presence dominates the room, even more so than Zandek and the prince. Though he’s seated across the table, it’s as if he’s surrounding me, touching me, and whispering secrets into my ear.
“Um, I-I’m not feeling well,” I say, standing so fast my chair crashes to the floor behind me. The room falls silent and all eyes land on me. “It’s just a headache, no need to worry. Um, please excuse me. I think I’ll go lie down.”
It’s not easy, but I manage to escape the dining room without Helena and Laylah trailing me. I hope Zandek doesn’t decide to summon the doctor, but I can’t bear to remain in Tavarr’s presence for a second longer.
On my way to the stairs, I pause and lean against the wall, thankful for the sudden solitude.
The buzzing of night insects lulls me into a trance, and I move to the nearest window and gaze up at the moons, inundated by warring emotions. I’ve stared at the moons while joyous, like during the first week on Tallia, during the brief time before Harry showed his true colors, but other times while devastated and scared, sleeping outside on a bench or locked in my cage in Vonn’s bedroom.
Raised voices suddenly spill out of the dining room.
An argument, in Kleaxian, rises above the din of nighttime insects. It sounds as if Tavarr, Zandek, and Prince Kenan are all trying to shout over one another. Though I don’t understand a word, I sense they are discussing me.
I rush up the steps and head for the rooftop terrace, wanting to escape the argument. Helena doesn’t speak Kleaxian, but I hope Zandek confides in her about the specifics of the dispute.
I find Joanna seated on the terrace, staring off into the distance. A breeze ruffles the white strands that have escaped her bun. Moonlight and starlight stream down upon the luxurious sitting area that contains over a dozen large, plush chairs and one loveseat. She shifts in her chair upon my approach, turning her sorrowful gaze to mine.
“What is wrong?” I ask. Between the strange appearance of Tavarr, the argument in the dining room, and now Joanna’s worrisome look, I’m beginning to sense there’s something truly ominous afoot.
She sighs and reaches for my hand, gives it a squeeze, and then leans back in her chair. Her expression remains drawn with sadness, and she’s slouching her shoulders as if in defeat. My stomach twists because I’ve never seen Joanna so downcast. There’s normally a spark of mischief in her eyes, as if she’s always about to impart some naughty secret or make a smart comment.
“Did you see the Kleaxian who came to dinner?” I ask carefully. “His name is Tavarr, but he’s from another town. Do you know anything about him or why they’re all arguing in the dining room right now?”
“I have never seen Tavarr before, but Zell has. He just approached me in the kitchen and gave me some rather disturbing news, and I’m afraid it concerns you, honey.”
My pulse quickens, and dread curls up inside me. A chill descends into my heart, and I wrap my arms around myself and wait for Joanna to continue.
“In the Kleaxian culture, Zell says when a mated Kleaxian male dies, if he has an adult brother who is unmated, then that living brother must claim the widowed female of the deceased brother. It’s a tradition that has apparently been followed religiously for thousands of years.”
“No, no, no,” I whisper. Shaking my head in disbelief, I rise from my seat and start pacing. I run a hand through my windswept blonde locks and pause to gaze at the moons again. Finally, I turn to face Joanna. “Tavarr is Vonn’s brother then? And he has come to claim me?”
