Chapter Seven
Zhor was too pissed off to think straight when he charged out of the habitat. The only thing on his mind was putting some distance between himself and the woman before he completely lost his temper.
It was unfortunate that his brain went out the door with his loss of control of his temper because he really needed his wits about him when he was away from the safety of hisrooke.
He barely avoided a nasty encounter with a rogue before he could retrieve his weapons.
How he could have forgotten something so vital was beyond him!
A combination of stupidity brought on by rage and a change of habit he still had not gotten used to, he thought, struggling with the urge to blame that on the woman.
But it had not seemed like a good idea to keep a lot of weapons around a female he had no reason to trust—especially after the deadly look she had given him when he had failed so miserably to please. Right up until that moment, he had only perceived her as tiny, delicate, and virtually helpless.
He was no longer convinced that she was incapable of violence either physically, mentally, or emotionally. He had to sleep, and he damned well would not get any rest if he had to keep one eye open for trouble.
That was the main reason he had chosen therookehe had—the defensive advantage of knowing no one could slip up on him while he slept and cut his throat.
The location was enough to prevent azorphfrom simply stumbling upon it and deciding to attack him for what he might have. As well as they climbed, it would take more effort in a general way than it was likely to be worth to climb down, because even if he had anything worth taking they would have a hell of a time climbing back up the cliff with it.
And it was far too high up for thezorphof the lower forest to even consider it.
Unfortunately, the only strategic advantage the place had from otherkerriwas that they would be fully exposed for a great distance before they could reach the opening to hisrooke. But that was definitely an advantage. Even if they used the crumbling pathways and steps of the ancient ones, they would make a great deal of noise in their approach—which would alert him.
It was exhausting to be forced to always be on guard, however. The hunt for food to sustain life was wearing enough. He had to be able to rest completely and thoroughly at least occasionally.
And that was why he had opted to leave his weapons at the door, so to speak. Originally, when he had first taken up residence in the ancient city, he had fashioned a backup armory, a place to store weapons in case he lost the one he had carried with him or it broke. He knew right where to go to retrieve a replacement quickly.
Since he had found the woman he had begun stowingallof his weapons in his ‘armory’ except the small knife he used for cooking before entering the dwelling and then collecting something for protection when he left.
He did not especially care for the necessity of not having a weapon close to hand—beyond the small knives he used for preparing food—but it had seemed preferable to taking a chance of having his throat cut while he was sleeping.
Or ending up in a life or death struggle that might get one of them dead.
And that wasbeforehe had thoroughly pissed her off.
Shaking his distracting thoughts, he checked the area carefully for intruders before he settled on his favorite perch.
He had actually discovered it before he had spotted the ancient cliff dwellings and had decided to explore them with an eye to moving in—a single tree that had grown out of the side of the cliff above the falls, its wide, flat canopy sturdy from many years of maturity.
He liked it because it was a comfortable perch high enough to see for miles, with vistas unimpeded by the canopies of other trees. As long as he did not get too wrapped up in his thoughts, he could enjoy the sun and peace and still keep close watch on the little that he could call his own.
That thought brought his focus to matters broader and less personal.
He knew the woman hailed from a people that were far more advanced, technologically, than his own had ever been—even before the fall. And he had considered that she must feel superior.
What he had not considered, because he thought of himself as a survivor of a devastating disaster, was that, to someone who had no idea what had happened, he must look like a primitive—like a creature that had barely crawled from the jungle to walk upright.
It was not a comforting thought, but he realized that, in all fairness, she had every reason to think of him as the next thing to a dumb animal.
Anger and resentment flickered through him, but he dismissed them fairly quickly.
He had screwed up.
First, he had given in to his baser needs and rutted like a mindless beast instead of proving his prowess as a lover.
Then he had refused her attempts to communicate because he was embarrassed and angry that she spoke to him with the slowness of one trying to communicate with a moron.
It had not helped that she had mimed the question of whether he was deaf and or dumb!
