Page 87 of Ren: Warlord Brides
“You have never seen one in person. Seeing one in the flesh differs from seeing a broadcast or a photograph.”
“How do you know I haven’t seen one in the flesh?” The female lifted her stubborn chin, the image of his Emmarae.
“Because you live,” he snapped. “They do not leave survivors, and they do not take prisoners.”
Tension crackled in the room. Gemma looked to Emmarae, silently beseeching her for support.
Ren scrubbed his face. “Apologies. My tone was unnecessary. You have suffered greatly.”
“Oh, don’t pander to her,” Emmarae said.
“I do not pander, but thirst, hunger, or exhaustion can impair the senses.”
“I know what I saw,” Gemma repeated.
Ren tipped his head in acknowledgment. “You overheard their plans.”
“Yes.”
“How did you understand them? You do not have an implanted translator.”
“She’s not lying,” Emmarae snarled.
“No, it’s fine,” Gemma said. “They stuck one in me. Here.” She touched a spot behind her ear.
“Can the other females confirm what you heard?”
“I think I’m the only one they gave the implant to.”
“Rest. When you are well enough to travel, we will journey to theJudgment. The warlord will want to hear your observations,” he said, trying to choose the most diplomatic terms. “I will return.”
He escaped into the corridor. He needed a moment to think, to process what Gemma told him. Suhlik trading in female flesh… Such a thing was unprecedented. Did they want the females for reproduction? Surely not. The Suhlik had hatcheries, great complexes dedicated to nothing but the fertilization, care of eggs, and nurseries for their young.
Terran females were not compatible with Suhlik breeding techniques.
Emmarae followed him into the corridor. “What was that?”
Ren pushed her against the wall, his arms planted on either side of her. She stared up at him, her eyes bright and burning. He did not know what to say or how to avoid her displeasure, so he covered her mouth with his.
She melted into his kiss, nibbling and tugging at his lip. “Don’t think you can distract me so easily.”
“I love your fire,” he said, full of sincerity. “You burn with the heat of the sun, and you want to stay with me.”
“Yeah, we never really talked about it. I hope that’s okay.”
His mate looked uncertain, so he kissed her again.
“I approve,” he said.
She huffed with amusement. “As long as you approve.” Then, in a quiet voice, as if sharing a secret, “I love you, too.”
Delight rose in his chest. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
His mate loved him. After his loathsome missteps and bungled attempt at reconciliation, she loved him.
“I must tell everyone,” he said. He had a duty to share his good fortune.
