Warlord's Mercy - Cynthia Sax Page 0,68

Warlord.

Tolui’s expression was as intense. “My presence here proves you would benefit from our ships.”

“You stole those ships from us.” Murad, Chamele 3’s tech-savvy Warlord, muttered that under his breath.

“You entered the sector before we increased patrols.” Berke ignored his brother’s comment, his attention fixed on Tolui. “It is now secure.”

That wasn’t true. Lea wiggled against her Warlord, wanting to speak, uncertain if she should.

He looked down at her. “Is the sector secure, gerel?”

The others gazed at her also.

She was the center of attention. Lea pushed away her uneasiness about that, and she focused on Tolui’s question. “I know of at least two humanoids who arrived on Chamele 4 forty-three planet rotations ago.” Har’s brother and that brother’s mate had finally joined him. Her selling partner had been thrilled, had talked about nothing else during her next meeting with him. “They entered the sector undetected.”

“Zondoo.” Berke’s fingers folded into huge fists.

Tolui pulled Lea closer to his side, wrapped his arms around her body. “My gerel has lived amidst the beings you call squatters for solar cycles. Every one of them entered the sector without permission, without being spotted. My clone warriors have successfully evaded capture within your supposedly well-guarded space. Their inputs would make us safer.”

“Once we’ve transferred the bounty hunter academy to Chamele 1, the trainees will also monitor activity in the sector.” Ellie, Berke’s gerel, conveyed that information.

The three gerels were bounty hunters. Lea pressed her lips together. Har wouldn’t like that. Her selling partner had a bounty on his head.

“My warriors will work with your warriors.” Berke conceded that point.

The chain of command for the crews of the ships patrolling the sector’s border was the next hotly debated topic. It was detailed…and a bit boring. Lea studied the three gerels. They were all human yet very different physically.

Zeta, Khan’s gerel, was almost as small as she was. The female tapped her booted toes, seemed impatient with the entire negotiation process.

Her outfit was appallingly awful. Many, many ropes of braided leather looped loosely around her waist. Her chest covering was too tight over her breasts. Her ass coverings didn’t fit right.

Lea’s fingers twitched. She wanted to dress her. Badly.

Gale, Murad’s gerel, was a curvy blonde. Her pockets, holsters, and sheaths were stuffed with assorted objects. Her outfit hadn’t been designed for conveying anything of substance, and she appeared misshapen due to that. She leaned against her Warlord and looked to be half asleep.

Ellie was the best dressed of the three, yet her garments weren’t worthy of her status. They were plain. Lea understood the need for the all-black color scheme and for the leather. The female was a bounty hunter. But her garments could have subtle decoration, details only those situated close to her would notice.

Lea could fix that. Excitement built within her. She could help all three of them.

Waiting to do that until most of the negotiations were complete was a test of her abilities, but she managed it. Barely.

Tolui, thankfully, asked for her input on a number of topics, and that allowed her to expel some of her building energy in chatter. She had lived on Chamele 4 far longer than he had, and she’d noticed things others didn’t. Her Warlord seemed to appreciate and value her insights, weaving them into his counteroffers.

That verified what she already knew—they were a team.

She loved him. He loved her. They had a future together. She would never be alone again.

A lull occurred in the discussions. It was an opportune time to speak with the other gerels, to help them using her unique skills.

Lea bumped against Tolui.

He looked down at her. “You’ll show them your designs here. Ask one of our warriors to bring you the garments.”

She stared at her Warlord. “How did you know I wanted to do that?”

“You’ve been whispering about it since the discussion on border patrols.” His eyes glittered with humor. “I can still hear you, my gerel.”

“Oh.” Her face heated. She hadn’t realized she’d been talking out loud.

“Yes, oh.” Tolui squeezed her hip. “You won’t leave this chamber.” His lips flattened once more. “And you won’t move out of my sight.” He drew in a ragged breath. “The last time that happened, I arrived to find a warrior’s claws aimed at your throat. I could have lost—” His voice broke.

“You didn’t lose me.” She placed one of her hands on his left pec.

His heart pounded under her palm.

That was how much her brush with death had impacted him.

Her chest warmed with caring, with appreciation for