Waliz (The Hallans #2) Read Online Bethany-Kris

Categories Genre: Alien, Dystopia, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Hallans Series by Bethany-Kris
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
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“I would never hurt you,” he states with such force that I almost believe him.

“Did you promise all the other humans you’ve killed that?”

“No. I promised them that they would die a bloody death at the end of Hallan weapons. And I’ve more than kept my word. I’ll keep my word to you, too. And you have my word that you are coming with me. Right now.”

He shouts a word I do not understand, and moments later, I look around him to find other Hallans filling the hallway. Whatever he then says has them nodding and coming towards us.

“If any of them touch me …” I begin.

“None would dare to touch you,” he growls out. “Only me.”

No sooner have the words left his mouth then he crouches down to sweep his arm under my legs. I’m hefted up on his shoulder in an instant, my hold on Zarah breaking. I lift my head to look at her, extending my hand for her. As a Hallan comes towards her, I beat against Halun’s back.

“Put me down! Tell them not to touch her! Leave her alone!”

But the Hallan gently lifts Zarah, cradling her to his body, speaking something to Halun.

“He says her foot is hurt,” Halun tells me. “What happened?”

“They cut her foot.”

He pauses. “And the blood on your clothing. Who caused it?”

“It’s not mine.”

“And the one it belonged to?”

“Dead, with a hole in his neck.”

“The one who caused that wound on your cheek?”

“He’s one of the bodies in this hallway.”

“You killed him as well?”

“Yes, long before you ever decided to come into this hallway and save me.”

He chuckles before saying, “Good.” He begins walking again, his hand coming to my lower back while he tells me, “No one will ever hurt you again. You need have no fear of that.”

It’s only the way Zarah smiles at the Hallan holding her that keeps me at all calm. And with that calmness comes me realizing just how gently Halun is holding me. Only tight enough to make sure I don’t jump down, but his hand on my back moves on me with a soothing motion. What the hell is this? Who is this alien, and why is he holding me like I mean anything to him? Like I mean … everything to him?

“I have no fear of any man,” I say.

I feel and hear his light chuckle. “Yes, Zawla. I know you don’t.”

“My name is Luna,” I remind him.

“I know.”

*

I’m sure the sight of his daughter thrown over my shoulder wasn’t exactly what Luna’s father expected after the ship landed in camp and the doors opened. Frances, standing just ahead of the group of Opposition rebels now allowed to enter our secured encampment, squints at the image of a very annoyed Luna still beating her fists against my back and shouting all the while.

She’s a loud thing.

Talks a lot.

I think if I have the urge and need to do it, she could spend hours rooted to the same spot arguing with me. Especially if I had told her to move.

It’s the sound of her words, probably clearer the closer we get, that makes Frances fight a growing smile of amusement. Not that he hides the pride in his eyes, or even tries.

“Goddammit, I told you I would walk the ramp myself this time, alien!”

“No, you said could,” I return.

Just because she can do something doesn’t mean she will.

And as I learned from our first encounter, and the flight back to camp where she behaved in much the same manner, I already understand that the words my mate chooses are more important than they may seem on the surface.

Her tiny fists—but Luna can pack a punch—slams into the spot between my shoulder blades again. The security suit that all my army wears keeps her hits from being anything more than a vibration against my skin, but there’s no denying the knot of tension starting to form in that very spot.

If getting her hands on me is really what she wants—

That thought cuts off when she open-hand slaps my back and then promptly slumps over my shoulder as if finally giving up her fight. Yet, I don’t believe she’s actually capable of that. Not for a second.

“Ugh!” she snarls, then.

But it’s lost a bit of heat.

I feel her elbow prop on the top of my shoulder a bit, digging in and making me all the more aware of her stomach draped over my chest and that a simple shift of my hand would take it to the swell of her backside. The fact I have to fight the sudden compulsion to do exactly that surprises me even though it shouldn’t.

I’m not sure it’s normal to be irritated and attracted to someone at the same time, and I also don’t know what to do about it. It certainly isn’t the time to consider how a good portion of my existence has been spent dreaming of a mate who would be my worthy opponent in many things. Never once did I consider, or envision, that she would come in the form of the angry ball of fury currently trapped over my shoulder.



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