And then she was hit with an incredulous thought that would explain much. “Are you real, Challen? Do you bleed?”

She managed to get a frown out of him. “Explain yourself, woman.”

“I have an android on my ship. He’s beautiful. He’s almost free-thinking, like Martha is. And he’s programmed to do anything I want him to do. But he’s not real. He’s a machine. He could do what you just did if he was so programmed, and not feel anything. You didn’t feel anything when you touched me. You can’t deny it. Your voice was too farden calm. Are you real? Or is this planet more advanced than I first thought?”

“Your tales get more and more fanciful, woman.” He chuckled. “I must remember to tell Tamiron about your ‘unreal’ men.”

Tedra’s brows came together warningly. “Give me a straight answer, barbarian, or I’ll have to find another way to see if your blood runs red instead of black lubricant.”

“I am as real as you are, kerima. Think you a warrior has so little control he cannot see to the proper discipline of his woman? You have seen that it is otherwise.”

“I am not-”

“You are what I say you are. Is that not so?”

This was asked in such a way that she knew it was a reminder that they were still “where he slept,” which translated to “his will was hers.”

Tedra gritted her teeth and turned back to face the front before retorting sourly, “Whatever you say-babe.”

That got her an arm around her waist pulling her back against his chest, and teeth at her ear that nipped gently before she was asked, “Do you wish to rephrase your last response?”

As a matter of fact, she did.

Chapter Twelve

When Tedra saw the encampment through the trees, she knew why the barbarian had left her alone for the last ten minutes of their ride. His “playfulness” had got her to the point of near screaming, which he couldn’t help but notice, and so he’d allowed her a short time to calm down before she was to meet others of his kind.

Those others turned out to be exactly of his kind, a pack of giants, though none quite as big as her giant. They looked like him, too, insomuch as none wore their hair short, nor clothing above the waist, and all wore the tight black zaalskin bracs and arm shields of different lengths, set with Toreno steel, strapped to their forearms. If that wasn’t enough to give them a sameness, their hair ranged in shades from brown to blond, likewise their eyes from brown to amber.

If an enemy raided this country, it sure wouldn’t have much trouble telling who was who, Tedra decided as they drew closer. Of course, she was seeing only eight of their numbers. Surely the whole country wasn’t made up of golden barbarians. She looked, she really did, to see a little fat, a little slouchiness, but these men were obviously all of the warrior cast, in prime shape, and not bad-looking either.

“I ‘m glad to see you aren’t the only gorgeous hunk of manhood around here, Challen,” Tedra remarked, wanting to get back at him a little for all his highhandedness with her. “There are several warriors right here I wouldn’t mind begging protection from-as soon as my service to you is over, that is.”

“When your service is over, you will again be a claimable woman.”

“Not if I get the words out first that request protection. You said that’s all I had to do this morning to avoid my present situation. I’m not likely to forget that, friend.”

He was silent for a moment, and then she heard, “If I am the only warrior present when your service ends, then you must say the words to me-if I do not say words of my own to you first.”

Could he do that? It really did seem a matter of timing. If he kept her confined… she’d have to see the lay of the place first. This was a primitive village of tents, after all, though she supposed that was better than caves. How hard could it be to slip out of one tent and into another? Then just three little words said to another man, maybe even the shodan himself if he was here, and she’d have some rights back and could get on with making this trip worthwhile.

She had some pertinent questions to ask him about this requesting-protection business, but that would have to wait. They were moving into the center of the cluster of tents, and the warriors, who had stopped what they were doing to watch Challen approach, now gathered around, their interest in his “catch” too great to ignore.

Tedra, being that catch, recalled belatedly her near naked state, and a little pink began riding her cheeks.

Challen’s arm tightened around her waist at about the same time. She wondered if he might be regretting her lack of clothing, too. More likely it was just a claim-staking thing, of the male asserting what was his when other males were around. Or did he assume she might be frightened, carted in so ignominiously as she was, not knowing what her reception would be, and was offering a subtle kind of reassurance? No, she had to stop trying to pin kind and thoughtful qualities to his nature. He was a barbarian, after all, a dominant, arbitrary male. So what if he’d been incredibly gentle with her in every instance, even to cutting up her clothes to ensure that her wrists didn’t get scraped by his scratchy rope. Come to think of it, he hadn’t laid a single harsh hand on her even when they’d fought and she’d try to lay him low with every blow. And when he did take hold of her, he was exceedingly careful about it. Was this for her benefit, or just the ingrained habit of an extremely strong man in his dealings with females? She supposed she had a month to find out, one way or the other.

“What kind of meat do you call that, Challen?” The teasing began with a chuckle.

Another man took it up. “Sweet and succulent, with the right preparation.”

“Such a waste, to find such a tender morsel while hunting,” still another said.

This last generated so much laughter among them all, even Challen, that Tedra had to wonder about the underlying meaning. What difference if she’d been found while the barbarian was hunting? How was that a waste?

“A waste of what, Challen?” Tedra asked aloud, only to set them all off on another round of guffaws.

This went on for a few more moments; then the barbarian dismounted, rather clumsily since he was still beset with chuckling. His hands were sure, however, when he lifted her down from the hataar. That was when she noticed all the dead animals strung up in the nearby trees, some already skinned, some simply strung up to drain blood. It was revolting, but she had known to anticipate such antiquated means of food gathering on other planets. She had even, in the back of her mind, known that the taraan and the two smaller animals tied to the hataar were destined for consumption. Just because Kystran had stopped killing its animals for food hundreds of years ago didn’t mean all cultures had advanced to the use of other food sources.

“Your fear comes late, woman.”

Tedra turned to see who had made this comment. She had to look up. This was going to get tedious after a while, but just then she smiled. The warrior had light brown hair and eyes, and was almost as handsome of face as Challen. He was certainly as handsome of body, and she let her gaze move slowly down his, then back up, noting when she met his eyes again that she’d managed to disconcert him.

The other men had drifted back to whatever they had been doing, all except this one. “What fear is that, warrior? If you think I was taking seriously that bit of nonsense about my making a tasty morsel for the stew pot, think again. Besides the fact that you fellas would choke to death on me if you were cannibalistic, the barbarian here might object to losing my month of service.”

“Of course, you would not object yourself, would you?” Challen put in dryly.