The Hummingbird's Gift (Hummingbird Tales Book 2)

  The Hummingbird’s Gift

  Reese Morrison

  Author’s Note

  If you don’t know me yet, I am notorious for writing too much. Take Rohahen for example. He was supposed to be a little plot device to make Geir jealous in Hummingbird and Kraken. But then his story was so fascinating that I committed to a free bonus scene to give him a happy ending. And somehow that became the not-quite-so-short story that you’re reading now. Oops.

  One of the things that I loved about this series was exploring Native American cultures from the Iroquois (Haudenosaunee) and Algonquin nations. It was important for me to show cultural and religious customs reaching into the modern world and living seamlessly alongside technology and the realities of everyday existence. In this book, I drew on many traditions form the Mohawk nation, which was often considered the “older brother” to the Iroquois confederacy. I am eternally grateful to my two sensitivity readers for helping me find this balance and adding details from their own experiences, perspectives, and tribal rituals.

  I’m also passionate about representing transgender experiences in my writing, and this one gave me a unique experience to explore that idea in the fictional world of secondary genders (something like the Alpha/omega dynamics that often appear in shifter books). If you’re looking for other books that explore trans identities with these themes, I highly recommend Nora Phoenix’s Irresistible Omegas series, Tanya Chris’s Omega Revealed and the rest of the Omega Reimagined series, and Amy Bellow’s A Home for Ben and A Pebble for Lewis in the Alaskan Pebble Gifters series.

  I hope you enjoy reading the second half of Rohahen and Tier’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. (As a hint, the first half of their story appears in Hummingbird and Kraken, and this book won’t make sense without it.)

  Happy reading!

  -Reese

  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.

  “Chief!”

  Tier turned to find his Sentry Leader, Kayla, looking at him with annoyance.

  “Aunt,” he greeted her respectfully.

  She rolled her eyes. “I called you three times.”

  “Sorry, I just… it’s been a busy few days.” It was true. There were other tribes to contact, government agents to update, children to identify and return to their homes. And then after that, meetings, supplies, the regular running of
the tribe and all of the new headaches the kidnapping brought with it, even after everyone was home and safe, and the experts had taken over.

  She gave him a stern look. “Go see him.”

  “Go see who?”

  Kayla glared at him. Her glares were legendary. And while he kept in shape and liked to spar, she was absolutely lethal.

  “I will contact the last two tribes,” she told him, sounding equally determined and annoyed.

  Tier raised one eyebrow. Kayla hated the phone. She hated diplomacy even more, though she wasn’t bad at it when pressed.

  But that little spark in his throat was calling him…

  “Go.” She added a hint of command to the word, which warmed his Adam’s apple and pushed him to comply. Their strength-sharing gifts were almost equally matched, so she probably couldn’t force him. But she’d made her point clear.

  Well, alright then. There were hundreds of other things that he needed to do, but those two calls were the last thing that he absolutely needed to complete this morning. Surely he could take a break for an hour.

  “Thank you.” He stood and made for the door, not shutting off his computer because he knew she would use it.

  “Tier?” she called after him.

  “Yes?”

  “You talk a lot about balance.”

  “Yes?” He wasn’t sure where she was going with this. Kayla, named She Who Calls because of her strength of leading others into battle, was interested in action. She had little patience for discussion or philosophizing. Or even ordering supplies that weren’t weapons or defensive technology.

  “Well, you know what your balance is.” She gave him another glare.

  “Um, thank you.” He did not know what his balance was, but he also knew she wasn’t going to explain.

  His balance was supposed to be a heart-singer, someone who could sense and calm emotions. Someone who would bring peace and resolve conflicts. Someone who he would one day have to marry for the strength of the tribe.

  That person would become the next Guide, replacing his grandfather who had held the role for longer than he wanted it. Even if he still wanted the position, he was nearing a hundred eighty years old, and he wouldn’t be around forever. Tier’s deferral wasn’t healthy for the tribe.

  He went to see Rohahen anyway.

  The small clinic was only a few doors down. It smelled of sage and antiseptic. The walls were decorated with motifs to represent health and healing, and bottles of dried herbs were lined up alongside industrial boxes of cotton swabs and alcohol pads.

  To one side was a round, airy atrium where people could walk clockwise around the inlaid design, touching each of the four directions as they walked the circle of life. There were spaces in the building to listen to the wisdom of elders, and also spaces to get vaccines and ultrasounds.

  It had been one of Rohahen’s best ideas, a suggestion he’d dreamed up between the medical and spiritual practitioners, two groups that often overlapped, when the old clinic needed to be torn down.

  Tier greeted the nurse practitioner who was preparing something in one of the waiting rooms. She waved him through to the back where there was a single hospital bed, an extra cot, and two chairs.

  Rohahen was sitting in a chair. He wore a faded blue hospital gown and a pleased grin. His dark skin was a shade paler than usual. Someone had removed the leaves, sticks, and most of the blood and muck from his dark, curly hair, but it still hung across his shoulders in a messy tangle instead of a neat braid.

  Tier had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. And he had almost lost him.

  He stood for a minute in the doorway, feeling an odd reversal of roles. Usually Rohahen came to him.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Still a bit dizzy. But that’s supposed to go away once I shift. The nurse just wants to observe me the first time.”

  “Oh, um, I’m glad to hear that.” Tier wasn’t sure what to say after that. Rohahen usually guided their conversations. He always knew what to say.

  “I heard that May got back safely. And Arella and Guyasuta are back with their parents. We found the tribes for fourteen of the nineteen other children?”

  “Sixteen,” Tier corrected. “I made another call this morning.” Of course Rohahen would already know all of this, even sitting in the clinic too dizzy to stand. People came to him and he looked out for them.

  “Oh, good. I was thinking of visiting May after I shift. I’m worried about her. And maybe Declan and Geir. I heard that Declan was almost shot. We’ll have to make sure that someone checks in on Nootau in the hospital.”

  “Yes, I think Ahanu was taking care of that,” he said, trying to keep things professional. What he wanted to say was that Rohahen should come visit him. Stay in his office where he could see him every moment. Or better yet, his home. His bed.

  “Ahanu asked me for advice.” Rohahen winked.

  “Oh, right.” Tier grasped for something else to say, finding it hard to think when he wanted to trace over every inch of Rohahen’s large body, cataloguing every small bump and bruise to make sure he was alright. “There’s a celebration tomorrow. I think Declan and Geir will be there.”

  “Perfect! I wasn’t sure if they would come. I mean, I know that Declan would, but it’s been hard to convince Geir.”

  “He rescued four of the children. And he helped me find you.” Tier was going to pretend that his voice hadn’t cracked at the memory of calling out to Rohahen only to find him missing. His throat had burned for hours as all of that energy built up with nowhere to go.

  He never wanted to experience that again.

  “Yes, I think Declan was just what he needed.”

  Tier smiled, “You were right. As always. Thank you for… checking on them.”

  “Making friends, you mean.”

  “Right.” That had been another of Rohahen’s ideas. Kayla had sent over sentries to ask Geir for help many times over the past decades. Then Rohahen had come over with a box of vegetables and befriended Geir’s boyfriend. As usual, it was Rohahen’s strategy that had worked.

  Tier heard the clack of the nurse practitioner’s footsteps in the hall and turned as she poked her head in. “Ready to shift?”

  “Very,” Rohahen replied. He sounded exhausted.

  Tier stepped back to let the nurse do her work, but Rohahen stopped him with a word. “Chief, um, do you think you can help me up? I believe I can walk, but the support would be nice.”

  “Of course.” He couldn’t deny him anything, especially when he looked so weak and tired. He wanted to protect him and keep him safe.

  He also couldn’t help the little surge at the thought of putting his hands on Rohahen’s body, if only for a moment. He knew it could never lead to anything, so he would have to take the small opportunity that presented itself.

  He positioned himself to the side of Rohahen’s chair, then arranged one of Rohahen’s arms over his leaner shoulders while he slid his own arm around his broad back.

  He was embarrassed and delighted to discover that the hospital gown opened in the back. He knew that he should keep his arm completely outside that thin strip of fabric, but he couldn’t help himself.

  Rohahen’s thick muscles were warm and the light coating of hair tickled against his hands. Tier’s own back was smooth, but he appreciated this masculine fuzz on Rohahen’s strong body. He gave a little caress, under the guise of helping him up, because this might be his only chance.

  When they stood, Rohahen towered over him, resting his arm easily on Tier’s shoulders. His balance seemed to be just fine, but neither of them let go.

  Tier thought about what he would do if their roles were reversed. He would have to be at death’s door before he would let anyone support him where people could see. He wouldn’t want to appear weak.

  But Rohahen wasn’t a normal strength-sharer. He never had been.

  He seemed perfectly gracious and calm as he leaned just the slightest bit on Tier’s shoulders while
they walked outside and down the ramp.

  They stood in the grass behind the clinic. Herbs and flowers were planted along the border, some for healing rituals and medicines, a few for their harmonious beauty.

  Tier looked to the nurse, but she waved the two of them on. “I’m just here to observe and step in if you need me. His body should know how to heal itself.”

  That made sense. He stepped back and waited for Rohahen to shift.

  “Um, Tier, er, Chief. Could you, um, get the ties for me?”

  The ties? Oh. Tier felt his face burn, glad that his bronzed skin would cover most of it. “No problem.”

  He traced his hand up Rohahen’s broad back, keeping his hands light on the fabric when really he wanted to touch that mahogany skin again. He released the bow at Rohahen’s neck and then the one at his back.

  Rohahen tugged off the gown and handed it to him, then opened the drawstring of the pants and let them fall to the ground.

  Tier looked away automatically. People stripped to shift all the time, and often held conversations naked when fast shifts were necessary. But it was polite to turn away or look only at their faces.

  Tier peeked anyway.

  Rohahen’s legs were thick and powerful, his belly and chest sturdy and broad. His cock hung long and heavy between his legs, darker than the surrounding skin.

  Tier looked to the ground, but he was captivated by Rohahen’s feet stepping out of the hospital pants, the soles a deliciously pale contrast to the rest of his skin.

  Why was Rohahen another strength-sharer? Or really why did they both have to be? Though in all honesty, when Tier gave in to his most secret fantasies he was the only one who embodied that role.

  Rohahen would make a perfect heart-singer. It was a thought that he’d had more than once, though he would never say it aloud. It wouldn’t quite be disrespectful so much as strange. His twisted dreams that made Rohahen into something he wasn’t for his own selfish desires.

  And one day, Tier would have to rely on someone else. The heart-singer he married was supposed to balance Tier’s own impulses, as well as supporting the tribe. He’d been leaning on Rohahen for far too long, bouncing between his grandfather and Rohahen when he needed a moment of respite and guidance.