Page 1 of The Hummingbird’s Gift

Chapter 1

Tier

Tier looked at his office door for what had to be the hundredth time today. The frame was empty, of course.

He stretched his arms overhead, trying to take some of the tension out of his shoulders. It had been the longest week of his life. From the moment the sentries had started to pick up foreign scents until they’d breached the bunker and rescued not three, but nineteen children, he’d barely slept.

After that, he’d thought it would be over, but of course it wasn’t that easy. He’d been ritually greeting and renewing relationships with nine different tribes who were coming to reclaim their children. He’d personally called every Chief he knew to figure out where some of the toddlers belonged. He hoped they were out there, but one of the teens had told a story of losing his entire tribe in one night. That didn’t bode well.

The Council was involved now, so he’d had Council agents underfoot. They were properly appreciative and respectful, of course, but they wanted testimonies before the children left and needed to interview all of the shifters on the rescue mission who’d already reported in to the Sentry Leader. They were keeping the three captives on his land, in a house that wasn’t remotely appropriate for their confinement, and doubling patrols in ways that were both appreciated and invasive. He was glad that Kayla was taking care of so many of the details, but it was still endless.

He looked at the doorway again. Still empty.

He hadn’t realized until now just how much he looked forward to seeing Rohahen’s dark eyes, easy smile, and solid bulk filling the entrance each day.

No, that was a lie.

He totally knew how much he looked forward to it.

Every day Rohahen dropped in for some reason. Sometimes to give a report on the food supplies he’d ordered for the communal kitchen, or update him on some member of the tribe whose small problem he’d solved before it became bigger.

Often for no reason but to bring him a sample of fresh food from the garden--strawberries in the spring, tomatoes in the summer, apples in the fall. Whatever was the freshest and ripest, or whatever Rohahen was baking that day, he got to sample, like it was his responsibility as tribal Chief to taste and approve them all.

Occasionally, when Rohahen knew he was having a difficult week, he’d bring up a full meal and maybe, just sometimes, he could be coaxed into staying for lunch.

Once Rohahen arrived, they would talk about whatever was on Tier’s mind. All of their interactions were very formal, very professional. Official, even.

Finances, land rights, education, housing, funding, births, deaths, power struggles, protection, ceremonies, honoring the gods and goddesses, updating the computer network--all of the work of the Chief. It mostly came down to finding that difficult balance between honoring traditions and supporting their people with modern resources and opportunities. Between passing on their culture and preparing the next generation for the current age.

No one else seemed to understand the needs of the tribe as well as Rohahen, or have as many clever solutions that would balance their goals and satisfy everyone. He was the reason that Tier went to the council of Elders so well-prepared, and half the time didn’t even need to go to them when Rohahen found a better approach.

But that was only part of why Tier looked forward to seeing him each day.

The other part was the way that Rohahen ducked his head a little bit and looked up at Tier from under his eyelashes, even though he was a full head taller. The way that he always waited shyly for Tier to take a bite of whatever treat he’d brought, like he was seeking his approval. The way that he’d clasp his strong, broad hands in front of him until they looked almost dainty.

It wasn’t proper behavior for a strength-sharer. Not at all.

If Tier didn’t know better, he’d think that those mannerisms belonged to a heart-singer. The sexiest damn heart-singer on the planet, with those dark, muscular arms and lusciously rounded belly.

But they didn’t.

Because Rohahen was another strength-sharer, like Tier, and therefore off limits.

Tier had just had that point driven home to him in what had been the scariest moment of his life. Rohahen had dropped from his internal awareness, that barely noticed but ever-present network of people who made up the tribe.

Anyone could be separated by distance, as the kidnapped children had been. But only strength-sharers could block another strength-sharer. Or, if they were unconscious, just disappear.

The whole time that he was searching for the missing children, then attacking the facility with guns and claws, all that Tier could think about was Rohahen.

The fact that the sentries had found Rohahen when they’d barely started the journey and the regular updates he was getting from the Healers after he returned still weren’t enough.

Tier looked back at his computer. Rows of numbers swam in front of him. He closed the window and blinked, unseeingly, at the endless emails that he needed to read.

He looked at the door again.

He’d felt the change a few hours ago. Before there had been a hole in the fabric of his tribe, a pinprick of absence that grew into a chasm as he worried about it. Now there was a little spark, warm and bright at the base of his throat and demanding all of his attention.

It felt like Rohahen, which meant that he was awake.