Claim

by Tana Stone

  He stalked up one sand dune and slid down it with one leg bent and one straight in front. When he reached the flat valley between the rolling hills of sand, he paced back and forth.

  Even now, he could sense her mind. He cringed as he tried to push it away. She was confused and angry again. That seemed to be her constant emotion when it came to him, so why did he feel so compelled to be around her? Why did he have an almost unbearable urge to protect her?

  She clearly didn’t want his protection, although that kiss told him she might want something else. But why would a young, beautiful creature like her feel anything for a seasoned Dothvek like him? She could have any warrior she wanted, although he’d noticed that she had not paid much attention to the flashy young ones who had attempted to impress her.

  “Tommel!”

  He groaned as he turned to see the twins striding down the dune toward him. Their faces matched their fists—hard and angry.

  “I do not wish to fight you,” he said, feeling weary.

  “Only to send us away like untested warriors?” Trek asked, as he and his brother came to stand in front of Tommel.

  “We are fierce fighters, not boys to be scolded,” Dev added. “We have passed the tahadu and fought beside you.”

  Tommel sighed and met their burning gazes. “I did not send you away because you were not worthy warriors. I sent you away because the female was not in a position to do it herself.”

  Dev spat out a laugh. “You are her protector?”

  Tommel’s heart rate increased as he thought about Bexli. “If she needs me to be.”

  “Maybe she needs something you cannot give her.” Trek exchanged a slight grin with his brother.

  The thought of these two Dothveks giving Bexli anything made his blood heat. He clenched and unclenched his fists to calm himself. “You will not touch her.”

  Dev cocked an eyebrow. “You might be our elder, but you do not decide who can take a mate.”

  Tommel flinched at the word. He knew that neither of the impulsive, young warriors were suitable for Bexli. Neither of them were good enough. “Which one of you wishes to take her as a mate?”

  They exchanged another look. “Why do we need to choose one of us?”

  The heat that had been building in his body made his hands shake. The thought of her with both of them made him vibrate with fury. “That will never happen.”

  “It is not for you to say.” Trek’s fingers tapped the hilt of his blade.

  “I will kill you first.” Tommel was surprised by the deadly menace in his own voice, and both Dothveks’ eyes widened.

  “You can try.” Dev lunged back into a fighting stance, as he drew his blade, and his brother followed suit half a breath later, their movements a mirror of each other.

  Tommel assumed a fighting stance, as well, sweeping his own blade out and leveling it at one and then the other. He knew that as good a warrior as he was, it was foolish to take on two warriors at once, especially two who fought so perfectly in sync. If he’d been thinking clearly, he never would have brandished his weapon in challenge.

  “What is this?” Rukken’s voice cut through the night, and all three Dothveks gazed up at him standing at the top of the dune.

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Dev shifted his attention back to Tommel.

  “Two Dothveks against one?” Rukken made a sharp noise in the back of his throat and jerked his head up. “No, this does not seem fair.”

  Trek’s blade sagged slightly. “This elder thinks he can decide the female shifter’s mate.”

  “A female.” Rukken slid down the hill. “That explains it.”

  “She is not his,” Dev said, his voice loud and shaky.

  Tommel did not lower his blade. “I did not say she was mine. But she will not be yours.”

  Rukken let out a breath that sounded like a stifled laugh. “From what I know of the offworld females, no one gets to choose for them. They are very willful creatures. There is no point fighting among yourselves, unless she has made her wishes known.”

  Tommel’s shoulders uncoiled. “Rukken is right. This is not for us to say.”

  Trek tilted his head. “I thought you said neither of us would ever have her.”

  “It is not for me to say,” Tommel admitted through gritted teeth. “The female should choose her own mate, if she wants one.”

  The twins lowered their blades and straightened. “Agreed.”

  Tommel’s pulse steadied as he hooked his blade onto his waistband, and the red haze faded from his brain. What had come over him?

  He trudged past Rukken, thumping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, brother.”

  “You are not returning to the camp?” Rukken asked, as he watched him take long strides up the dune and away from the spaceship.

  “Not yet.” Tommel needed to put some distance between not only himself and the twins, who were still breathing as if they’d run a race, but also between himself and Bexli. Her mind remained a dull hum that he could sense, like a roiling undercurrent ready to sweep him away. The last thing he needed was to be pulled under by her torrent of emotions.

  As his fast steps took him farther from the twins and the camp, he inhaled heavy gasps of cool, night air. The steady rhythm of his breathing and walking calmed him, and soon he felt nothing but his own mind. He stopped and leaned his head up to peer at the sky, amazed that despite all the tumult down below, the three slivered moons shone steadily, their light bouncing off the crests of the dunes and making the sand glitter enough to rival the stars.

  His planet had always been a comfort to him—the beauty of the sands, the faithfulness of the suns and the moons, the bounty of the oasis they lived in. It was as much a part of himself as anything, as he knew it was to all Dothveks. Yet K’alvek would give it all up.

  Shaking his head, he wondered how the warrior could be quick to make such a sacrifice. Then he thought back to his own impulsiveness. Would he do the same, if given the option? He wanted to think he would never make that choice, but could already feel the pull of her—distant but insistent.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. He had to fight his desire for Bexli, or it would be his undoing. He knew he could never survive another loss. Opening his eyes, he felt stronger, and determined to resist his feelings.

  Then he heard the screams.

  Five

  Why in the world did she kiss him?

  Bexli touched a finger to her lips and wondered if they looked as puffy as they felt. Her pulse fluttered wildly in her chest, and her fingers were enflamed where they’d pressed against his firm flesh.

  That hadn’t been like any other kiss she’d ever had before. It had been raw and hungry and primal, and, if the look in his eyes when he pulled away was any indication, it had been as much of shock for him as it had been for her.

  “Well, that cannot happen again,” she muttered to herself.

  She looked around the smoldering fire and the inert figures of the sleeping Dothveks scattered around it. At least they’d all slept through it, even though she’d been sure that the ground had shifted and the roaring in her ears had been loud enough to wake the dead.

  Bexli leaned over with her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath and make her heart stop hammering so wildly.

  Come on, Bexli, she told herself. It’s not like you haven’t been kissed before, although she’d been particular about those she’d allowed to kiss her. And it had been a really long time since she’d considered someone worthy of locking lips.

  And how was it that Tommel affected her more than the younger Dothveks, who were so eager to catch her eye? Maybe because he wasn’t so young and eager. Maybe she liked the idea of cracking the serious warrior’s reserve. Maybe she wanted to see what he was like when he wasn’t controlling his emotions so tightly. Whatever it was, she could not let it happen again. Not when she couldn’t be sure she could stop herself. Or that she wanted to.

  She glanced back over her shoulder at the spaceshi
p. The ramp was still down, and warm light spilled out from the inside. She really should head inside and crash. It was well past her bedtime, and the Dothvek wine was sure to make her head pound in the morning. Besides, Pog was asleep in her quarters, and she didn’t want him to wake up by himself. That usually resulted in unfortunate puddles and less-than-fragrant pellets on the floor. Or worse, on her bed.

  “You’re still up?”

  Bexli turned at the sound of Caro’s voice. The pilot was walking from behind the ship, her footsteps straight and sure. She guessed her friend hadn’t overindulged like she had. “I thought you and Rukken were already back at your camp.”

  Caro shook her head and her ponytail swung behind her. “He went to check on something with some of the other Dothveks.” She jerked a thumb at the gunmetal-gray hull. “I was taking a peek at the engine.”

  “You think she’ll be easy to fly?”

  Caro grinned, her dark eyes sparkling. “Easier than our old girl. At least, this one is a dozen astro-years ahead, when it comes to tech.”

  Bexli laughed, glad to be talking about the ship, and not thinking about…other things. “Don’t let Danica hear you. You know she loved our old ship.”

  Caro made a funny crossing motion over her chest. “Rest in peace to that old bucket of bolts. I loved her almost as much as our captain did, but I won’t mind flying something that doesn’t stall randomly, or eat up fuel like a Jorjovian sucker slug eats bugs. You have no idea how many missions almost went south because our ship was on the verge of dying, or coming apart at the seams.”

  Bexli shook her head. She didn’t always understand Caro when she started chattering, but right now the sound of the pilot’s fast voice was comforting.

  “Do you remember that time on Praxos when you and Tori had finally corralled that slaver into the brig, and then the Planetary Defense Force came after us? If Holly hadn’t done some magic to give us an extra boost, we would have been toast, because the engine could not go any faster.”

  “You mean when it felt like we were standing still, even when you were going as fast as we could?” Bexli grinned, remembering all the screaming when she’d made it to the bridge.

  Caro snapped her fingers and pointed at her. “That’s the time.”

  “I guess I won’t miss that, either.”

  “I only hope that the Zevrians Tori stole this ship from don’t come after it.” Caro gnawed at her bottom lip. “After running from Mourad for so long, I’d hate to have to run from another group of pissed-off aliens.”

  Bexli shrugged. “We’re bounty hunters. I think running from—and running after—angry aliens is kind of our job.” She started to walk away from the sleeping barbarians and motioned for Caro to join her.

  “True.” Caro tapped one finger on her chin as she followed. “You don’t suppose we could convince the captain to go into a different line of work, do you?”

  “Like what?” Bexli’s gut tightened. Her talents weren’t the kind that transferred well into more traditional forms of employment.

  They trudged up a sand dune, their feet sinking into the powdery sand and making it hard to make progress.

  “No idea, actually,” Caro said, her breathing labored. “But maybe we can be more selective about the bounties we do chase.”

  Bexli knew Caro must mean Max, the scientist they’d captured before they’d realized that she only had a bounty on her head because someone wanted to steal her innovation for themselves. At the time, they’d thought it was unlucky that their rival bounty hunter had marooned them in an attempt to take Max from them, but it had worked out for Max in the end. She’d become one of their team and a friend, and they’d gotten rid of Mourad—hopefully for good.

  Caro put a hand on Bexli’s arm when they reached the top of the sand dune, squinting as she peered down at the trough below. “You don’t want to run around at night without watching where you step. Trust me, I ended up in a pool of this stuff called lightning sand. I don’t know if it only appears at night, or if it’s harder to see in the dark, but take my word for it, you do not want to be up to your boobs in the stuff.”

  “Point taken. I’ll trust you on that one. How did you get out?”

  “Rukken.” Caro’s cheeks colored. “I’d be dead if he hadn’t come after me and pulled me out.”

  “Was this before or after you—?”

  Caro smacked her arm, but her mouth quivered as she fought the urge to laugh. “Before, if you must know.”

  “You know I must.” Bexli grabbed her friend’s hand and tugged her forward with her.

  With a small yelp, Caro slid down the sandy slope, and both women landed at the bottom, squarely on their asses.

  “How do the Dothveks do it and look so graceful?” Caro asked, pushing herself to her knees.

  “Well, they did grow up on the desert. They’ve had a little more practice at it than we have.”

  Caro stood and held out a hand to Bexli. “As much as I’ve enjoyed parts of this adventure—” She made a point to ignore Bexli’s knowing grin. “—I’ll be glad to get back to work. It doesn’t feel right for me not to be flying.”

  Bexli nodded. She knew what her friend meant, even though she didn’t feel quite the same way. It wasn’t that she was dying to go back to shifting in order to capture bounties, but she did miss working with the crew. She missed the camaraderie and the sense of purpose. Plus, she needed to get off the planet and away from Tommel. The alien barbarian definitely provoked unwanted feelings, and the sooner she was rid of them, the better.

  “Now that we have the ship, we should be able to leave any—“ Her words were cut off by the sounds of shouts and screams coming from the other side of the high, sand peak.

  Caro gripped her hand, and Bexli locked her eyes on the mountain of sand between them and the erupting chaos on the other side. This was so not good.

  Six

  Tommel flew up and down the sand until he reached the dune next to the enormous ship. He paused, looking down on the battle that raged below him. It took only moments to see that the Dothvek warriors who’d been woken from their sleep were fighting Cresteks.

  His clansmen were dodging blaster fire as they slashed out with their blades, catching dark cloaks that were swirling in the night. Some of the enemy’s hoods had fallen back to reveal the same peaked ears and burnished-gold skin. He jerked involuntarily at the similarities between their people, but forced that uncomfortable thought out of his head, as he raced down the steep slope to join the fight.

  Despite the Cresteks’ use of blasters, the enemy was not winning decisively. There were as many cloaked bodies for him to step over as there were Dothvek, although the Dothvek ones had only black burn marks on their flesh, while the Crestek dead were gushing blood from open wounds.

  He slashed at a Crestek who was aiming at Trek, causing his aim to falter and his fire to go wide. Trek grunted his thanks before spinning around and taking down an enemy fighter shooting at his brother.

  The air was filled with the sounds of blaster fire and the hiss of blades as they sliced through flesh. The tang of blood was sharp in his nose, but he swallowed the bile that churned in his throat from the sight of so many dead Dothveks, their eyes glassy and wide.

  Tommel roared as he swept his blade up to block a stream of blaster fire, dipping low and slashing at the Crestek’s calves and bringing him to his knees. He finished him quickly, standing and heaving in a breath. The enemy’s blood had splattered his chest and face, and he swiped it out of his eyes as he spun to look for incoming attacks.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a pair of Cresteks running onto the ship, and Trek and Dev, along with several other Dothveks, following closely on their heels. He carefully scanned the battle. None of the females, including Bexli, were outside. That meant they must be in the ship, which the Cresteks had boarded. As much as he’d wanted to fight Dev and Trek earlier, he knew the warriors would be able to handle the enemy on board the ship. That did not mean he
did not want to find Bexli and make sure she was safe. If she’d gone back inside to sleep, he needed to get to her before the Cresteks did.

  He ran toward the ramp, but was knocked backward as the ship’s engines rumbled to life and sent blasts of hot air from the vents. Staggering to his feet, he watched as the ramp lifted at the same time as the hulking metal beast lurched out of the sand. It was too high to reach, but that did not stop Tommel from jumping for it, his fingers not even grazing the metal before it clamped shut and sealed the ship.

  Falling back to the ground, he knelt and watched helplessly as the enormous steel ship hovered for a moment before shooting off, clipping several high dunes along the way. His stomach sank as he realized where the ship was heading—straight for the Crestek city.

  Tommel pounded a palm into the sand. The enemy had pulled off an ambush, and stolen the ship, as well as all the females. How had they not seen this coming?

  He stood, turning when he realized there was no noise behind him. The shouts and grunts and panting had stopped, because he was the only warrior left standing. He gaped across the valley of dead bodies—some Dothvek and some Crestek—and the fire that had burned out and now sent a feeble wisp of black smoke into the air. Most of the burning torches ringing the space had been knocked over or extinguished, leaving the camp lit by little but moonlight. His stomach sank. He was all alone.

  Tommel forced himself to walk among the bodies, and look on the faces of his Dothvek brothers. He was grateful to find that there were more enemy bodies, their cloaks fanning out and making them look like dark angels sprawled on the golden sand, than there were of his clansmen.

  “What happened?” Bexli’s voice was high and clear as it pierced the silence.

  He looked up and saw her standing at the top of a sandy slope, her hair shining in the moonlight like a beacon, pulling him toward her. She stood next to another of the offworld females—Caro, the one they’d been searching for. Both females gaped openly at the destruction below.