My Man Michael
“Just yesterday, he’d spoken with Kaimani, the twenty-year-old woman they’d last taken prisoner. He grinned. Labeling Kaimani a prisoner was a running jest among his people, because no woman was treated poorly under his domain.
Certainly no woman would ever be sacrificed to an enemy.
Like the rest of his people, Kaimani had smiled before him, unafraid of him, happy and carefree despite his reputation as a scofflaw. He kept order through strict discipline, but he was not harsh to his people.
Just the opposite. Under his studious care, they flourished.
Not that Raemay would ever accept that. Evil bitch. His skull burned just thinking of her and the spell she’d woven around him. She’d drawn him in, pretending to be thrilled by his wild rejection to conformity, his daring reputation—only to leave him, reducing him to a heartsick fool.
For years he’d worried for her, searched for her.
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