by Lexi Ander
“You would abandon your ties, your loyalties, to your queen so quickly?” Zeus sounded incredulous and Sohm’lan had to quickly hide his grin at his waterson’s predicable outburst. Everyone knew of his unwavering love and loyalty, and if he was separated from his family, he would do everything possible to get back to them.
“We are V’Saar,” Atizen said as if that explained everything and his audience should know what being V’Saar meant. He continued in a sneering voice that said he thought such clarifications beneath him. “We need our—a—queen. If that scenario were to happen, Orla would be heralded the victor. That alone would ensure that the drones tied to Queen Isolt would change their allegiance. The strongest queen has more warriors, drones, and resources, but if Orla’s scouts were pushed back across the grid, and the problems with the connectivity corrected, Queen Isolt would handle Orla herself.”
Zeus’s hand fluttered over his throat, not touching but as if Alpha did something that disconcerted him. “If the grid came down —” Zeus said slowly as if choosing each word carefully. “—if one of the keys became lost, then no one would be the victor and the two queens would continue to fight over territory.”
A shiver worked up Sohm’lan’s spine. That scenario would be the worst outcome. If the grid fell, there would be another war against the V’Saar. Last time whole worlds, people, and cultures were wiped out. Could the planets of the Valespian Pact prevail over the bug horde? And if they did, what would be the cost?
Atizen’s agitation increased. “Queen Isolt signed a treaty and made a vow to the Alpha-Zetamites.” The chittering noise of displeasure was like someone was rubbing metal bristles next Sohm’lan’s earholes.
For the first time since the questioning began, Azaes spoke up, his tone full of suspicion. “But you did not sign a treaty or give a vow, Atizen. You, who are second only to your queen, would lose your station if Isolt were to fail in this war with Orla.”
Sohm’lan was not surprised by the V’Saar’s version of a snarl, Atizen’s anger finally boiling over. “We should have pursued and destroyed all, not allowed ourselves to be locked behind a wall like rabid dogs. We are better and stronger and more numerous. The first time she was backed into a corner, she bargained. We do not negotiate, we conquer!” Atizen’s head thrashed about as he spoke, as if fighting an internal struggle.
Suddenly, Atizen leaped from the pool’s edge and Zeus seemed to freeze, but the Monticore did not. They bore Azaes and Zeus to the floor under protective layers of bodies. Sohm’lan reached for Mestor but missed as Mestor dodged, murder in his expression as he vaulted over the mound of Monticore. The sharpshooters that Warlord Aspasia had outfitted with exploding rounds immediately sighted Atizen but held their fire since Mestor had unknowingly moved into their line of sight. Sohm’lan went after him, cussing under his breath, aware that Star Eater had intercepted Atizen before he got far. Within seconds Star Eater handed down his judgement, then burned the V’Saar to ash, filling the air with an acrid scent. Sohm’lan barely refrained from grabbing Mestor and shaking him, though he sorely wanted to.
With a gesture, the Chimera stalked around the outer edge of the pool, their unwavering gazes on the two remaining V’Saar that the Feteine dragged to the edge. The V’Saar needed to be taken alive but if they caused trouble, the Chimera would incapacitate them. The old documents Sohm’lan had found said the V’Saar could live without their limbs and he relayed that to Warlord Aspasia.
While the remaining V’Saar addressed Star Eater, Sohm’lan used his body to push Mestor behind the Monticore. He was treating Mestor as if he was Sohm’lan’s undeclared mate and he prayed none of the others noticed. He was acting wildly inappropriate, but he could not help himself. Mestor had placed himself between Zeus and Atizen. It had taken six Monticore to subdue the V’Saar on The Gorgon. What did Mestor think he could do against Atizen except die?
Mestor boldly met his gaze, heat and desire raging in those red-streaked golden depths. Sohm’lan’s behavior had not gone unnoticed by Mestor, and he was hard-pressed to care. If Mestor’s focus was on him, then he would not be rushing blindly into danger. Silently, he promised they would be having a private discussion soon, then he tore his gaze away to take stock of the situation.
Zeus was lecturing the Feteine and Qrxzl on the folly of assuming only Terrens had undesirable qualities. It was a dressing down that Zeus was well-qualified to give. The majority of Mar’Sani accepted Zeus, but there were those who believed he was comprised of all the bad qualities the Terrens were known for simply because he resembled them. The royal family worked diligently to protect Zeus from prejudice, but they could not shield him from every incident or degrading words. Actions they could punish, but the people of Atlainticia highly valued free speech.
Finally, finally, Zeus was able to discuss the reason they sought out the Qrxzl. Sohm’lan was once again proud of the youngest prince as well as the twins when they continued to give their support without taking over.
Star Eater seemed exhausted; his coloring washed out as he sat listening to Zeus. Was burning Atizen to ash the cause of Star Eater’s lack of energy or something else? But as he watched, the exhaustion began to look more like illness. The hum of power that was usually around the Ancient was absent. When they returned to the shuttles, he would offer Star Eater the use of their med bay. When Star Eater stood, he swayed. Before Sohm’lan could order soldiers to Star Eater’s side, he fell into the pool. Thunder rumbled overhead, the sound drowned out by the exclamations from Qrxzl, Feteine, and Mar’Sani. Zeus was the loudest with the echo of Alpha in his voice as he called for Madux.
The Monticore knelt at the edge of the water, obeying Zeus’s order to stay out. They waited for an opportunity to pull Star Eater and Madux to the flagstones if only one of them floated to the surface. Two of the elite guard stood behind Zeus, prepared to pull him to safety if they perceived any danger to him.
When the two did not come up, Zeus demanded answers from the Qrxzl in a hard voice he rarely used. The turquoise liquid pushed a viscous substance to the edge and expelled it from the pool. The longer Madux and Star Eater stayed under, the less likely they would survive the ordeal.
Zeus must have come to the same conclusion, bellowing, “Release them!” The air thickened with the scent of ozone as thunder pounded overhead.
Sohm’lan saw Zeus’s alabaster skin flush, turning a deep red and Sohm’lan commanded everyone to get down. He grasped Mestor’s and Azaes’ arms, making sure they followed orders as he, too, crouched over them. The dome should protect them, possibly… probably.
“You will release the son of the Alpha-Zetamite right this moment!” Zeus’s growl was animalistic, the wave of energy bursting from him just as strong as Star Eater’s earlier display.
The blinding flash of light poured through the open door and lit up the dome, making the crystals glow so bright that when Sohm’lan squeezed his eyes shut he still saw stars when he blinked his eyes open. The crack of lightning that followed was deafening. The earth quaked and his ears rang. Around him Mar’Sani hissed in discomfort, but Zeus was oblivious. Before he could give another ultimatum, which Sohm’lan knew would be followed by another round of deadly lightning, the pool coughed up Madux and Star Eater.
He had had enough. It was time for them to get off this cursed rock before some other calamitous event happened.
“Wrap things up quickly,” he said to Azaes as he helped his watersons to their feet. “We are leaving as soon as I make arrangements.” He was aware that he was commanding the Heir Apparent and would probably be reprimanded later, but he did not care. He wanted everyone away from this vile place.
Azaes gave him an indulgent grin. “My sense of urgency matches yours. The sooner we leave, the better.”
When Azaes crossed to Zeus, Sohm’lan continued to hold onto Mestor, unable to pry his fingers away just yet. Mestor leaned into him. To the casual observer it would appear like Mestor shared a private conversation with his Chief Warlord. �
��When we return to The Gorgon, I want you to manhandle me again, somewhere private where I can respond like I want to.”
His scales tightened even as he released his grip. Mestor joined Azaes, and Sohm’lan barked orders as if a gerrho’sauridae had slithered into the room. The promise of being alone with Mestor sat in the shadows of his thoughts, filling him with impatience and need. For once, he did not shy away from the thought of his inappropriate behavior. Instead, his imagination teased him with things he wanted to do to Mestor. The topmost desire was spanking him for all the foolish and dangerous things he did today.
Chapter Fourteen
Sohm’lan
* * *
Sohm’lan stormed through the corridors of The Gorgon stalking his prey. More than one soldier had to hop out of reach of his thrashing tail, and for the hundredth time in the past week he could not bring himself to care.
Since their return from Qestaire there had barely been a moment of downtime for him or any of the princes. Zeus had several projects he was working on. The communication frequency to Emperor Valdor had been severed again before they had stopped at Qestaire. As of yet, a new line into Valespia had not been reestablished. Zeus could not pinpoint what interfered with the communications going to Valespia, and he looked for ways around it. Psi-tracker interference, the spy on the council, the Terrens that were probably already in Valespian space, any one of those were possibilities but they would not know for sure until they arrived at Valespia. While Zeus looked for a solution, he also worked on the shields for both The Gorgon and Oethra 7 as well as Oethra 7’s thrusting capabilities.
Azaes and Mestor were dealing with the Feteine. Sohm’lan assigned Monticore and soldiers to the Feteine’s detail since no one trusted them. He was busy himself with the V’Saar, and he recorded recommendations that would be sent electronically to Valdor once the communication lines were safe. He was concerned the Feteine could not only tap into The Gorgon’s comm system, but the data banks as well. He was also worried about their ability to quantum leap. Little was known about them and their capabilities. Could they leap from a starship traveling in hyperspace? As curious as they were about Zeus, he did not trust them not to grab the youngest prince and leave. He kept reminding himself Canry would not have set Zeus in harm’s way, but remembering that was hard, especially when he was naturally suspicious of everything. He shared those suspicions with Azaes.
Sohm’lan had been dealing with the V’Saar emissaries. He wanted to put them in a holding cell, but one did not do such to a dignitary from a queendom, bug or not. Instead, he assigned them quarters near the soldiers’ barracks and when they left their rooms, which they did not do often, a sizeable escort accompanied them.
The V’Saar were surprisingly agreeable and respectful. His lip curled at the thought. He wondered what their game was. Intelligence gathering, definitely. But what else? They had volunteered information about V’Saar society, culture, and structure. He did not trust it and ran everything by Alpha, which meant he spent more time with Dargon, which at times was bittersweet for Sohm’lan. The pregnancy weighed heavily on Alpha, affecting Dargon’s energy more and more as the days passed.
Today, however, Sohm’lan was grabbing some personal time. He tracked Mestor, glancing from time to time at his data pad as Mestor went about his own business. What little sleep Sohm’lan got was plagued with the replay of Mestor dodging him and leaping over the Monticore, fearlessly putting himself between his brothers and Atizen. Every single time he woke screaming for Mestor.
Well, it was time for them to talk.
He squinted at his data pad. Mestor had taken a lift and instead of getting off on the level restricted to the royal family, he stepped off on the warlord level and entered Sohm’lan’s private quarters. Sohm’lan’s pulse raced as he hurried to the nearest lift. He watched the data pad to make sure Mestor did not leave, and when he arrived at his level, he tucked the device away.
His scales were pulled tight, and his muscles jumped with anticipation as the door to his quarters slid open. Quickly he stepped inside, glancing around until he found Mestor lighting incense for Niobe. There was nothing more in this universe that Mestor could do to make Sohm’lan’s hardened, scarred heart melt.
After having so many days to come up with lectures for his prince, not one coherent word came to his tongue. He snarled a hiss-click that conveyed every drop of his fear, frustration, and fury. Mestor quickly rose to his feet, sunrise-yellow eyes wide with alarm, tail going rigid as he prepared to defend.
“You foolish, reckless—” Sohm’lan thumped his tail on the floor in challenge. He had not meant to demand a fight, but he was not feeling like a waterfather, but rather like a bull whose mate was… was…
When Mestor’s expression morphed from alarm to incredulity, Sohm’lan roared and charged. He grasped Mestor by his uniform jacket, picked him up, and shoved him against the wall so they were nose-to-nose.
“Do you think so little of my concern?” Sohm’lan bellowed.
Mestor clutched his wrists but did not pull away. “Never,” he panted.
“Then why would you purposely dodge me when it was my duty to protect you?” He snapped his teeth together as he vividly recalled the calculated move.
“You were worried about me?” Mestor said with dawning awe.
Sohm’lan shook him. “Of course, I worry about you! How can you doubt that? You put yourself in the direct path of a murderous V’Saar. Do you have any idea of the terror that gripped me when you did that? Do you know how hard it has been these last few days to do my duty when all I wanted was to hunt you down and beat you with your own tail?”
Mestor’s whole body slumped in Sohm’lan’s hold, catching him off guard and stalling his tirade. The slow grin that spread across Mestor’s lips turned goofy and lovesick. “You were worried.”
Pheromones flooded his nose, warm and inviting, tickling his senses with hints of arousal. He should let go and step away, but instead, he nuzzled his nose alongside Mestor’s, feeling every minute tremble.
“Oh, love, how you tempt me,” he croaked. Mestor’s tremors triggered his own.
Mestor stroked his hands up Sohm’lan’s arms and over his shoulders to cup his nape. “Do you need me, Sohm’lan?”
He could not help the low whine that escaped. “You cannot put yourself in that kind of danger again.” He did not know when he had begun to need Mestor like this, and he could not make himself care as his nose was teased with all the layers of Mestor’s intriguing scent.
“Let me ease you,” Mestor whispered, his claws gently scratching the scales at the back of Sohm’lan’s head.
His trembling increased. He should not. He should move away. He should escort Mestor back to his own quarters. He should tell Mestor there could be nothing between them. But he was tired of trying to do what he ‘should’. Besides, it was a lie. He wanted everything. Watching in horror as Mestor placed himself in danger with only his tail, claws, and training as weapons filled Sohm’lan with both fierce pride and absolute terror. What if Star Eater had not acted as quickly as he had? Sohm’lan could have lost Mestor without ever revealing that he had always loved him. He just had not paid attention when his adoration transformed from that of a waterfather to that of a bull who wanted Mestor as his own, as his mate.
Carefully, he set Mestor on his feet but could not step away. Mestor said nothing, only worked to remove Sohm’lan’s uniform. The heavy jacket fell to the floor followed by his undershirt. Mestor’s hot breath brushed against his naked collarbone, the sensation almost as arousing as Mestor’s hands skating over the scales of his chest. How many nights had he dreamed of Mestor writhing against him? Too many. Not enough.
He pulled at Mestor’s uniform, his fingers uncooperative as he attempted to unbutton the garment. He needed to feel Mestor’s scales against his own. Just thinking about it made him moan. A clasp on Mestor’s uniform gave with the sound of rending fabric.
“I love seeing you impatient.” Me
stor pushed him toward the sleeping platform. Like an ungainly youth, he stumbled backward and toppled. Mestor stood over him, two clasps hanging uselessly. The uniform was made of a spyder silk, a lightweight armor. The only thing that had torn was the threading that held the silver clasps to the lapels.
Mestor did not inspect the damage but undressed so quickly that Sohm’lan smiled at the youthful exuberance.
As soon as Mestor threw down the last garment as if it had offended him, he practically attacked Sohm’lan’s pants and boots. But Sohm’lan paid no attention, his gaze locked on Mestor’s hard cock. When the cool air caressed his own erection, the ache from being trapped in the tight uniform transformed into the need to touch.
Mestor stared down at him with ravenous eyes. “You are stunning.”
Sohm’lan would have said old, scarred, worn out, but the words would not leave his tongue. Mestor gazed at him as if he were priceless when he felt anything but. His prince crawled across the bedding, but instead of laying on top, he straddled Sohm’lan’s thighs and tail. His palms rested on Sohm’lan’s chest, his claws scraping teasingly as his expression turned determined.
“I am claiming you right now, Sohm’lan.” Mestor clicked his teeth and thumped his tail twice. Sohm’lan’s breath caught. No, this was not what he meant to happen when he put his hands on Mestor. “Stop,” his prince commanded. “We have been moving toward this point for more than a summer now. You are meant to be mine. Tell me you do not want me. That you only hold a small amount of affection for me or that you do not dream of me, that you have not called my name when you wake.”
