Punished by Tana Stone (story books to read TXT) 📗

since I’d arrived. With the added energy of the roll, I spun around and strode toward the amphitheater.

It was time to teach the males of Kimithion III how to fight like the Vandar. If that was even possible.

Chapter Two

Ch 2

Sienna

I pulled my honey-brown hair up in a bun so tight it tugged at the corners of my eyes. When I flinched from the pain, I released my vise-like grip on my hair.

“Your hair isn’t the one you want to hurt,” I whispered to my reflection in the warped mirror, meeting my own hazel eyes and glancing quickly away.

No, I wanted to take my anger out on the village delegates who’d decided that only males could learn to fight. Right after I took it out on my father for being so drunk all the time that he didn’t care what was happening or pay attention to his two daughters.

Not that my father would have taken my side anyway. When he wasn’t drinking the disgusting fermented algae that was the local liquor, he was in lock step agreement with his friends who served as ministers for the planet. He, like them, believed that it was the males who should rule the families and defend the planet, while the females tended the homes and children.

“Yeah, right,” I whispered darkly under my breath.

I had no intention of getting married and having a family, especially since I’d seen firsthand how badly that could end up. I opened the top drawer of my dresser, sneaking a peek at the pencil sketch of my mother I hid there. I touched the weathered paper, making sure not to smudge the charcoal lines. Having a family had literally killed my mother, and I had no desire to end up like her—dead and erased.

I slid the drawer shut quietly. My father didn’t allow any images of my mother in the house, but I kept this one tucked away so I wouldn’t forget what she looked like. The more years that passed from her death, the harder it was to recall her face without the drawing as a reminder. I also hid it so it wouldn’t hurt my sister, since my mother had died giving birth to her. No matter how many times I told her that it wasn’t her fault, I knew Juliette didn’t believe me.

A choked snore from the living room made me stop moving. I held my breath as my father shifted on the couch and then resumed snoring. He’d fallen asleep in the living room after drinking too much—as usual. I honestly didn’t know why he even bothered having a bedroom since he never made it to the bed.

Glancing at the sun peeking over the pointy mountain spires and streaming into my window, I groaned. My father would be late for his shift again, not that I was going to dare wake him up. He didn’t like being reminded that he was constantly late for the only job that he could hold on to— cleaning fish down by the shore. It was smelly, disgusting work that few people wanted to do, which meant that they wouldn’t fire him when he continued to show upon late or not at all.

I drew in a deep breath. The only advantage to him missing work was that he didn’t bring the smell of the shallows back with him. The only scent filling our dwelling now was the aroma of Juliette’s bread and baked goods. Although I couldn’t hear her in the kitchen, the smell of yeast and sugar told me that she’d been up since before dawn baking. The sunlight also told me that she’d probably already left our dwelling.

My stomach growled, and I hoped she’d saved a roll for me. She usually did, although lately she’d been annoyed with me, and one way she showed her irritation was by not leaving me one of her pastries before taking them down to the village to sell.

Guilt gnawed at me as I turned from the mirror and tugged on my boots. I hated when Juliette was upset with me. Since we were tiny, it had always been the two of us against the world. Or at least against our father. He’d fallen apart after our mother had died and had left us to fend for ourselves most of the time. We’d learned to rely on each other instead of him, and had always been close, despite how different we were.

But lately, she’d been more and more impatient with me. Especially since the Vandar had arrived. My breath caught in my throat when I thought about the huge, muscular alien who’d been exiled to live in our village. Corvak was the name that they whispered in the village square or behind closed doors, and he was so different from anyone I’d ever seen that I couldn’t keep my eyes from tracking his every move.

Not that he’d done much moving since he’d arrived. After stalking off the Vandar ship, the bare-chested, tailed alien who wore nothing but a leather skirt and boots, had disappeared into the dwelling he’d been assigned and only emerged once or twice. His rough appearance had caused plenty of whispers, as had the black markings on his chest and the axe he wore on his belt. Neither humans or Kimitherians marked their bodies or carried weapons. We also covered most of our skin, and our males wore their hair short, not long and wild like the Vandar.

Unlike most of the villagers who knew everything about each other, the Vandar had made no effort to socialize. Not that I blamed him. Clearly, he wasn’t thrilled to be here, and I heard he’d been reluctant when two of the planet’s ministers had asked him to train our males in battle. But he’d finally agreed, and today was the first day of the training.

“And I’m going to be there,” I said, pulling a long cloak off a hook near the arched door and throwing it over my shoulders. I didn’t