dropping off the garments, picking up the leather and the dried meat and leaving.”
He was concerned about her. That warmed her chest.
“It’s safe. See that banner above Har’s tent?” She pointed to a black square flapping in the breeze. “That’s his signal. It tells me Daisun and his brutes aren’t expected at the market this planet rotation.”
“Your Har appears nervous.” He studied her selling partner.
The older male pulled at his bushy gray eyebrows with his long thin fingers. His gaze constantly shifted, his three silver eyes operating independently.
“Har always appears nervous.” She shrugged her shoulders, not seeing anything unusual in her selling partner’s expression. “There’s a bounty on his head, and there’s been talk of bounty hunters roaming this sector.”
“The gerels of the three Chamele Warlords are bounty hunters.” Her Warlord’s shoulders lowered. “You’ll follow me. Closely.” He stood. “And you’ll hold my hand.” He extended it to her.
“I’ll follow you anywhere, Warlord.” She slid her palm over his.
He gripped her fingers and pulled her to her booted feet. His biceps bulged. His scars shone against his golden skin. He was a formidable male.
And he was hers.
She trailed slightly behind him as they entered the market. Heads turned toward them. Someone shrieked. Beings ran in the other direction, disappearing from view.
Lea sighed, having anticipated that reaction. “This is why I should be walking by your side.” She caught up to him as they stomped toward Har’s tent. “You resemble a Chamele, and no one likes them. They wish to eject us from the planet.”
The warriors didn’t view Chamele 4 as worth claiming, yet they wanted no one else to call it home. Their thinking made little sense.
“I’m not a Chamele.” Her Warlord scowled at a male, and that male scurried away from them. “And I don’t care if I’m liked or not.”
“They’re potential customers.” She rolled her eyes as they approached Har. No one would barter for her garments if her male frightened them away.
“Lea, what are you doing?” Har stood behind an empty horizontal support. He shifted his weight from booted foot to booted foot, appeared ready to run at the least provocation. “You know we don’t trade with his kind.” He inclined his gray head toward Tolui.
Her Warlord narrowed his eyes at the older male.
Her trading partner swallowed hard, yanking at his eyebrows with a force that threatened to remove them completely. “We’ll make an exception for you.” He sounded like he might cry. “Anything you want is yours. Please don’t kill me.”
Her Warlord had broken Har without saying a word.
Her pussy dripped. He was so blasted dominant.
“No one is killing anyone.” She shook her head.
Tolui’s grunt relayed he disagreed with her.
“Har, this is Tolui.” She patted her Warlord’s chest, seeking to calm him with her touch. “Tolui, this is Har.” She completed the introductions. “Tolui has been helping me, protecting me, and he knows you’re my selling partner. He doesn’t mean you any harm.”
“Unless you mean my gerel harm.” Her male wrapped one of his arms around her waist, his hold on her thrillingly possessive. “I’ll kill anyone who touches her.”
She forced a laugh, her pitch high and shaky. “He’s always threatening to kill beings.” She gazed at the horizontal support. There was nothing on it. “Where are the garments?”
Har’s gaze remained on her Warlord for one, two, three heartbeats and then shifted to her face. “They’ve all been bartered for.” He waved at the pack behind him. It would contain her portion of the proceeds. “If I knew you had help, I would have filled another pack with rock vulture skins. We can’t keep up with requests.”
Beings loved her garments. She beamed. “I’ve crafted more.” She tugged on the pack strapped to her Warlord’s back.
He thumped it down on the horizontal support.
She opened it, removed the garments, showing them to Har. They talked about the features and designs. Har shared what beings were requesting.
As they chattered, her Warlord turned to face the others. He crossed his huge arms in front of his chest, braced his booted feet apart, and glared at anyone who dared approach them.
That would not help them sell any garments.
She inwardly sighed and applied herself to her conversation with Har. Once the necessary information was relayed, she and her male would leave, and customers would return.
She leaned against Tolui’s back as she chattered, needing that connection with him.
Moments passed.
She enjoyed talking about garment design with Har. He was in direct contact with the beings who wore her creations and had a unique insight