The Chieftain’s Daughter Read Online Free PDF

that?”
    “Enough.” He calmly spoke the one word.
    “Does your tribe find strength in this? Your weak and failed son?”
    Mechan grabbed her wrist, yanking her so close to him her nipples brushed against the course hair on his chest. She’d finally found his weakness. “Unhand me.”
    Instead of letting her go, the chieftain pulled her by the arm all the way down to the river. He passed the others that washed and sought out his own piece of the banks, where the water pooled and was mostly still. Only when they were out of sight did Mechan let her go, swinging her without warning into the cold water.
    The cool liquid engulfed her, and she shrieked. Her soaked dreads clung to her back. She flailed until she found her footing and by that time, Mechan was already in the pool, pouring water over his head with a clay vase.
    “You will learn, little one. You are no longer the daughter of a tribe here.” As Mechan lifted the jug over his head, the muscles in his arms rippled. His long hair fell to the base of his neck, where it gathered into a point as water flowed over it. Though Ishara hated him most in this moment, something compelled her to watch him.
    She sank into the water, covering her petite form for the first time since her capture. She turned away from Mechan and pulled on the tusk bead in her hair, missing her father more now than ever. She had never felt more helpless and small in her whole life. Perhaps that was why Mechan called her “little one.” It bothered her so much. Ishara did not want to feel small, and worse—so alone.
    The water rippled around Ishara’s waist as Mechan walked up behind her, vase in hand. “Don’t sulk. It does not become you.” With a gentle tug of her upper arm, Mechan willed Ishara to turn around and face him. She looked up, her light eyes heavy with the sorrow that she was trying to conceal.
    “You are a cruel keeper.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.
    Mechan did not flinch, but instead, he smiled very faintly and continued to wash Ishara almost lovingly, as if he bathed with someone else entirely. It was the first time she’d seen him smile. He did not seem to even see her any more.
    “Free me.”
    Mechan continued to smile, the way a parent would smile to an unknowing child. “No. Your women are ours. It is the price of taking from a woman what your tribe can never give back.”
    This was the first time Ishara heard any sort of reasoning behind the slave raid of the Oolani. Still, a part of her did not understand. “So why should you punish these poor women who caused you no offense?”
    Mechan stopped washing Ishara’s hair, abruptly handing her the vase. His brows drew together, his stony gaze strong, and without answering the question, Mechan began to wade his way back toward the shore. Ripples danced across the surface, leaving a pool of swirling water behind the chieftain.
    Ishara dropped the vase, immediately choosing to go after him. “I want to know why. Why do you punish these women and children?”
    Her lithe form moved more easily than his. She caught up with him rather quickly, and when she was within range, Ishara reached out with one hand and grabbed Mechan by his biceps. He did not turn. She pressed her feet into the cold, clay mud under the water, and pushed in front of him, putting her whole body in his way.
    The touch, insistent but gentle, did cause Mechan to stop. Ishara thanked the spirits. He could have simply run her over. Drowned her. Beaten her. But instead, he stopped and only looked at her.
    “Why do you avoid me?”
    “I am not avoiding you. I have chosen not to answer you.” Mechan crossed his arms over his chiseled chest.
    Ishara pursed her lips, not content with the answer. He didn’t want her to know, and whatever it was might be used against him later. She tucked the question away for another time.
    Mechan rose out of the water, and as he emerged, droplets rolled down his muscular back and over his firm