Havik mentally prepared himself to argue why the vehicle potentially had valuable information if Kaos told him no.
“Organize the warriors into a search grid. Start with known locations used by poachers in the past. The sands are vast and shelter is scarce. I will accompany Havik to the vehicle,” Kaos ordered. Skyll and the other warriors burst into action, which Havik used to cover his surprise.
“We will take my vehicle, unless you have one,” Kaos said. He tilted his head toward Havik’s ship.
“I do not.”
Kaos regarded the ship and Havik steeled himself for criticism. All Kaos would see was the paint scoured away by the wind during the years sitting in a junkyard. He did not see how the ship had become a home, how his and Ren’s hard work returned it to the sky and how Thalia breathed life into the craft.
“I had my doubts when I heard reports of you salvaging this craft from the scrapheap. I was certain you would return with your tail in hand.” Kaos nodded, as if satisfied by something only he could observe. “I was wrong.”
The sand could have swallowed Havik whole. His father admitted a mistake. To him.
Never in all his days did he expect to hear those words.
“I am proud that you found your own way. You have grown into the male I always wanted you to be.”
Havik looked at the horizon, his boots, the way the buildings cast a shadow on the sand, and the sky. Any place but his father’s aging face. After a lifetime of bitter disappointment, Kaos spoke the words Havik longed to hear.
“We are wasting the sun,” Havik said at length, because those were the only words he could find.
An uncomfortable silence sat between father and son during the journey. Havik studied a map of the terrain. Ancient roads were buried under the sands, reappearing periodically after a sandstorm. Abandoned settlements emerged for a time, only to be swallowed again with the next storm. An abandoned settlement near enough to a water source could provide shelter to the unscrupulous.
Kaos brought the vehicle to a halt. The engine ticked as it cooled.
Half-buried in a dune, Mais’ vehicle appeared to be damage-free.
“This is not the direction to the settlement,” Havik said.
“We believe she was lured to this location and ambushed.” The vehicle creaked as Kaos opened the driver’s door. “The computer was disabled with an EMP blast. She could not call for help.”
Havik studied his map. “There is an abandoned settlement not far from here.”
“That was the first location I had checked this morning.”
“Your mate did not return in the evening and you waited until the morning to search for her?” The words slipped out before Havik could rein them back.
The warlord’s lips curled back, as if angry. “You have grown free with your words.”
“Appeasing your ego will not find my mother.” Havik lifted his chin, inviting Kaos to strike back with a denial about Mais’ true role in Havik’s life.
Tension crackled in the air and the warlord’s body tensed, as if calculating the risk in striking a younger warrior. Havik would not passively allow the male to land blows. If he wished to hit Havik, he would have to earn it.
He had never done this, stood unyielding to his father’s will. He always acquiesced because Kaos was the warlord and demanded respect. Never once had Havik felt that Kaos earned that respect, but he bowed for the good of the clan. He saw now how that behavior polluted the clan.
Thalia would have refused to bow. She lied and stole as easily as breathing, but she had more integrity than his father’s entire clan.
“I married that female so that you would have a caregiver,” Kaos said.
“A mother.”
“You had a mother,” Kaos retorted, his tone sharp and a scowl on his face. He stepped back and relaxed his expression. “Forgive me. When my mate, your birth mother, died in labor with you, I was bereft. A lost male. I took her closest friend as a mate to care for the child. You. She loved you with her entire heart.”
“Loves,” Havik said.
“Pardon?”
“We do not know if she is deceased. Do not presume.”
The warlord’s lips twisted into a smile. “So young and optimistic. It was wrong of me to deny Mais her status as your mother,” he said, as if conceding a minor point. “She was your mother in every sense. Can you forgive me?”
Suddenly very aware of himself and feeling awkward in his skin in a way he had not since he was a juvenile, Havik studied the map. He tried to keep his tail still, but every position felt wrong. Kaos spoke the words Havik had longed to hear his entire life and it hit the wrong notes.
Kaos frowned at Havik’s lack of an answer. “I am becoming an old male. Will you return to the clan and help me lead? I always planned for you to be the next warlord.”
Havik cleared his throat and focused on the map. “The settlement dates from the great wars. Did you check the tunnels?”
“Surely those have collapsed.”
“We will investigate. It will not be difficult to determine if the tunnels are occupied.” Havik climbed back into Kaos’ vehicle. The tunnels stretched for miles and entrances were built at regular intervals. They merely had to drive the length of the tunnels and looked for spots where the sand had been cleared away.
The sun hovered over the horizon when they found the entrance. Partially buried, enough sand had been moved to expose the hatch door.
Havik checked his weapons and carefully approached the entrance. A fetid, damp smell hung in the air, indicating the presence of water. Several of the ancient tunnels had been built to take advantage of underground springs.
The hatch opened with ease, and the scent of water increased. This was more than a spring. This was centuries of water filtering through sand and rock, only to collect in a low point and grow stagnant.
He took the lead. Not far into the tunnel, he heard voices. The poachers were not even trying to hide their presence. Signaling for Kaos to follow, he crept forward. The uneven walls and reinforcing pillars that lined the tunnel provided cover.
Light flickered ahead at a juncture.
Using the scope on his rifle, he assessed his quarry. A group of five males, armed, sat without cover. Two figures huddled in the back. Correction, one huddled. The other moved forward, into the light. While the scent of stagnant water hid her scent, light glinted off the glass of her spectacles. Her pale beige face shone in the darkness.
Thalia.
Thalia
So, this sucked.
After being stripped—what was it with the bad guys always getting her clothes off?—and dragged off the ship, Thalia stopped fighting. She’d be a good little hostage.
Her captors took her to an underground tunnel. Water dripped somewhere in the black depths. A little camp had been organized around a brazier of burning coals that cast deep shadows. Her captors appeared to be waiting for someone.
Very atmospheric. Very post-apocalyptic.
Thalia joined Mais. With their hands and feet bound with plastic ties, they had nothing better to do than watch. Correction, Thalia watched. Mais drifted in and out of consciousness.
Pressing the back of her hand to Mais’ forehead, Thalia realized that she had no idea if the woman ran a fever or not. Havik always felt warm. Mais felt warm. Was that normal?
In the flickering light, the woman did not look well. Blood matted her hair at the temple.
“Hold on. Havik will find us,” Thalia whispered. Mais nodded, her eyes glassy.
“Can we have some water?” Thalia asked.
The closest man jabbed the point of a pistol into her chest. “Quiet, Terran.”
She immediately held up her hands in surrender. “She needs water.” Then, for good measure, “I need to pee.”
“I do not care.”
“Okay, I’ll just pee myself then. I’m sure that’s cool and the smell won’t bother you. Or the puddle won’t trickle over to you. There is a slope, though, s
o you’ll probably get the runoff. But you don’t care.”
“Female, cease your prattle. Go into the corner,” the guard snapped. The others around the fire snickered, but one man did shuffle forward with a canteen.
“Here. Drink.” He offered the canteen to Mais, eyes down like he was scared to look at her. Or ashamed.
Interesting.
Mais hesitated before accepting the canister. There was a spark of recognition. Thalia didn’t fall victim to random bad guys. They knew Mais. Respected her, even, or her position as warlord’s mate. But they were unafraid.
Thalia teased it out, her mind churning slower than usual because she really did need water. With nothing to protect her skin, she felt roasted by the sun. Despite being underground, the temperature was still slightly south of boiling. The water—a spring?—added enough humidity to make her hair frizzy. Focusing her misery on how she felt parched and moist all at once distracted her from freaking about radiation.
Doc’s survivalist handbooks didn’t cover much about radiation sickness other than it’s a horrible way to die and the affected person should make their peace. So, she was thirsty, covered in a nasty sunburn with frizzy hair in what was essentially a steam tunnel. Anyone would be distracted.
Their captors were part of the clan and not a breakaway faction. They were waiting for the warlord. This was a setup.
Well, fuck.
“I really do have to pee,” Thalia said.
The man closest to her grumbled, the light from the brazier shifting across his red face. The man who gave them water said, “Just go in the back and don’t make trouble. There’s five of us to one of you.”
Thalia pulled her shoulders in and tucked her chin down, making herself as small as possible. She never hesitated to use her slight stature in her favor. “My hands? I can’t pull down my…you know.”
The grumbling man lurched to his feet and grabbed Thalia, dragging her upright. A utility knife slashed through the plastic ties at her wrist, then at her feet. “No trouble,” he warned.
“None.” She crossed her heart and batted her eyes.
“What is wrong with your eyes?”
“Nothing. Dust,” she said, swiping with one hand. The other hand went behind her back.
As she passed Mais, she took a long drink from the water canister. With her thirst quenched, she passed it back carefully. They couldn’t afford to spill a drop. Mais fumbled as she accepted the canister.
The tunnel ended abruptly with a pile of rubble from a long-ago collapse. Very aware that every splash echoed, Thalia spat out her mouthful of water. She really couldn’t pee on command. Call it performance anxiety.
With her business completed, she placidly held out her hands to be bound again.
Havik better find them soon. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep the five idiots distracted.
Havik
“What is this?” Havik said. In an instant, he took in the situation. Thalia and Mais were bound. The poachers were not strangers, but the males who Kaos had sent to track the poachers.
The honorless curs sprang to their feet and pointed their weapons at the females.
Havik remained still, his hand held up in surrender. Whatever plot Kaos crafted, he wanted to end it and never return to this cursed planet. He loved the brutal beauty of the desert and the wildness of the northern seas. He had found solace walking under the stars. He loved his home world, but Kaos poisoned everything he touched. The bitter old male ruined an entire planet.
“You have many flaws, son, but you are not dumb. You know what this is,” Kaos said. He snapped his fingers and one of the warriors dragged Thalia forward.
His heart lurched at the sight of his mate stripped of her armor. They underestimated his mate if they thought removing garments would break her spirit. She fought, kicking her unshod feet, and thrashing her bound hands. Her efforts were for naught. Small, even for a Terran, she had no hope of resisting a fully grown warrior. The male held her easily, pinning her arms behind her.
“You endangered your mate as a lure, to bring me here,” Havik said, mostly for Thalia’s benefit. Her eyes gleamed in recognition but not surprise. She had already figured out the warlord’s plot. “If you think you can threaten me to renounce my mate, you are mistaken.”
A cruel grin spread across the warlord’s face. The shifting light cast his features in stark relief, aging him horribly. “I’m not threatening you. I’m threatening her.”
Unprompted, the warrior holding Thalia twisted her arms. She cried in pain, falling to her knees.
The sound hurt him right down to his soul.
“Stop! Whatever it is, it is yours,” Havik said.
“I need an heir. For years I wanted it to be you, Havik, but I was foolish. I cherished my mate, but she was weak and gave me a weak son.” Kaos stalked in a circle around Havik. His left foot dragged slightly and only became noticeable because Havik’s entire being was focused on his father. “I tried my best to strengthen you. No coddling. Made you work for my approval. I thought I trained you properly. I thought if I presented you with the choice to take that weak Terran female or keep my respect, you would reject that female.”
“Vanessa was not weak,” Havik said.
“All Terrans are weak. The Council claim they are our allies, but they have done nothing for us. For Rolusdreus. They need, taking our technologies, and are happy to let our warriors bleed on their cold planet. What do they give us? Mates that cannot even survive the environment. Fragile, pale things that become ill if exposed to the sun. What unnatural creature is allergic to the sun!” Kaos paused, if expecting an answer.
“Vampires,” Thalia helpfully supplied.
What was she saying?
“Oh, you don’t know about vampires? It’s an Earth creature. Drinks blood. Avoids the sun. We, um, they, look just like regular people.”
“She lies. There is no such creature,” a male said. Havik recognized Skyll, even in the gloom of the shifting light.
“Have you been to Earth?” Thalia asked.
One of the males said, “She threw a bucket of blood at us!”
“That was juice,” Skyll answered.
“It was blood. It went into my mouth, Skyll. The female vampired me!”
Thalia’s eyes gleamed with amusement at the discord. “Of course his name is Skull,” she murmured.
“These are your best males?” Havik asked, already knowing they were chosen for their loyalty, not their intelligence. Kaos did not like to be questioned and always preferred the warriors who blindly followed orders, even the orders that went against the good of the clan. Havik recalled Ren listing the warlord’s many misdeeds. “You could not stop the Council from sending Terran females, so you gave your warriors an ultimatum. Their mate or their clan. How many good warriors have you driven away?”
“They were weak.” Kaos spat the words and his tail twitched wildly. “I do not need them.” Kaos paused, as if considering his words. “I did not misspeak when I said I was proud when you went your own way. You proved yourself. Became the male you were meant to be. Imagine my pride when I learned my wayward son finally returned home.”
Havik’s gaze fixed on Thalia. He wanted her to see everything in his heart. “This is my home.”
“You impossible child!” Kaos jerked back, as if Havik slapped him. “Can you imagine how I felt when reports reached me that my son returned with a new mate, another Terran, and this one smaller than the last. Parading her around, instead of hiding your shameful behavior!” He curled his lip at Thalia, disgusted. “She stinks of you. No doubt you’ll plant another feeble son in her. How could you do this to me? Renounce your weak Terran female and return to your family.”
Kaos always twisted events to be about him, and Havik fell for it every time. Not now.
“Join me. We will rebuild the clan together.”
“If I forsake my mate,” Havik said.
“I will find you a new mate. A proper mate. A Rolusdreus fema
le.” Kaos puffed out his chest, as if he made an irresistible bargain.
Kaos and his machination to manipulate Havik was laughable. Had his father always been such a petty, self-centered male? Driving away those who disagreed with him until he was surrounded by sycophants? How many years did Havik remain blind to this?
“I will always choose my mate,” he said, keeping his voice calm and controlled as he inched his hands to the pistol at his hips. Thalia noticed the movement as her eyes went wide.
“I’ll go!” she shouted. The warlord swiveled his attention to her, amazement on his face, like he did not think she could speak. “I’m a thief and a liar, remember? I don’t love you enough for this drama.”
“No,” Havik said.
“You were just a mark, but you’re not worth this. I’m cutting my losses. I’ll leave,” she said.
“No,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. All the fury and frustration he had worked so hard to ignore came at him at once. She lied. She was a liar, but he desperately needed to believe that she lied. What they shared was real, the realest thing he had ever experienced in his miserable life.
His hand jerked to the pistol.
“I do not think so,” Kaos said, pulling his pistol on Thalia. “Drop your weapon. All of them.”
Havik complied, seeing no other way to avoid Kaos shedding Thalia’s precious blood.
“Cut me free and I’ll leave. Right now,” she said, raising her bound wrists. Her fists were balled together.
“You’ll perish from exposure,” he said. The night was cold and she wore nothing. If she did not freeze, radiation sickness would take her. This horrible standoff in the underground tunnels was safer than the surface.
“I’m not your problem to worry about,” she snapped. “My hands?” She shook her hands at Kaos.
His eyes narrowed. “You can leave, but my generosity ends there. Go. If I see you again, female, I will end you.”
He gave Thalia a shove and Havik roared. Rough hands grabbed him, holding him back as he struggled. He would end every male present. Slowly. Painfully. They would suffer for making his mate choose self-sacrifice, believing she helped him.
Havik: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 9) Page 21
