watched as he carefully poured water from the bucket over the nearest one, darkening the soil to a pitch black.
“Jaxor,” he said finally, moments later, watching the soil bloom and darken. “That is all you need to know.”
She didn’t know why dropping a single syllable off his name meant so much—or why his temper rose when he heard it—but what did she know of Luxirian culture? Next to nothing.
Erin sensed she wouldn’t get anywhere with him that day on the subject. Nevertheless, she catalogued what she knew about him.
“Okay, I suppose I’ll have to fill in the gaps myself then,” she murmured quietly.
“Gaps?”
She ticked off the things she knew about him on her fingers as she recounted, “You knew that Ambassador from the Golden City. You knew the secret passageway on the Ambassador terrace in the Golden City. Yet, you’ve obviously been living here a long time.” Her eyes flickered to his chest. “And you, um, have your nipples pierced, which means that you finished warrior training.”
But he wasn’t like any of the warriors she’d met. Not their guards or her friends’ mates. Jaxor’an—Jaxor—was different. He’d told her so himself. So who was he? And why was he living all the way out here when it was obvious to her that at one time, he’d been integrated into Luxirian society?
“Are you from an outpost?” she questioned, though it was mostly to herself, knowing he wouldn’t answer.
He growled, though the sound didn’t seem like a warning. It seemed more like…interest.
“But if you live here, I’m assuming that at one point, you left that outpost.” Another thought occurred to her and she swallowed. “Or you were…kicked out.”
Jaxor grinned at her. She’d seen a similar one when he’d first hijacked the other Ambassador’s hovercraft. It was a dark smile, devoid of joy. It was almost mocking.
“I will save you time, female,” he rumbled, crouching so that they were eye-level, and her breath hitched when she saw silver flecks in his blue eyes. “It was the latter.”
He was exiled? she questioned.
“What…what were you kicked out for, exactly?”
“You talk too much,” he noted, that grin disappearing and annoyance emerging once again.
Patience, she told herself, taking a deep breath. Jaxor was like…a feral dog. Untamed, a little wild, but she had to believe that there was good in him. She had to. Or else it didn’t mean good things for her.
Maybe he just needed time, patience, and a gentle touch. Erin worked with children. She had patience and she was gentle. The only variable she didn’t know was time. How much time did she have? And before what?
Gentle, she reminded herself. Then her face flamed because she remembered last night. Her hands squeezed as if remembering the handle of the knife.
Clearing her throat, she decided to change tactics.
“I’m hungry,” she murmured. His brow knit together. She chose her words carefully. “Will you feed me?”
For a moment, she watched him. For someone that seemed cold and detached, it was fascinating to watch the subtle emotions play across his features. It seemed that, in his home, he forgot himself. He seemed more relaxed here, despite the cold indifference that poured off him in waves.
His reaction told her what she needed to know…that somewhere deep down, Jaxor was not all that different from the males she’d come across on Luxiria. For reasons unknown, Erin had awakened his Instinct and there was a deep-seated drive to care for her, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
The startled shame that crossed his face told her as much. Didn’t it? A part of Erin relaxed, if only a little.
Erin wished they had a ‘reset’ button. They needed to reset the past couple days. But perhaps, building trust wasn’t out of the question. If he still planned to give her away to those males in the forest, then she had to believe that she could sway his decision, that she could change his mind.
It was her only hope. Until then, no more late-night knife-wielding threats. No more bursts of anger and arguing. If she had to play the ‘mate’ card and try to sway the Instinct inside him, then she would. And she wouldn’t feel guilty about the small manipulation. She refused to.
“Tev,” he murmured, his voice like gravel, rubbing his chest briefly as if something felt wrong. “I will feed you, female.”
Chapter Seven
“Who were they?” she asked after a swallow of the dried kekevir meat. Jaxor watched her delicate throat bob, desire tightening in his gut.