Havik: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 9)

by Nancey Cummings

  “Clearly, if you are well enough to argue, you are well enough to get out of my medical bay. Rest. No strenuous activity.” Kalen leveled a look at Havik, who nodded. “Return tomorrow. I will monitor your recovery.”

  “Tomorrow,” Havik said.

  The doctor drew a curtain around the bed for privacy. Thalia climbed to the edge of the bed, and Havik helped her dress. She felt good for being in a medically induced coma for twenty-eight days.

  Once dressed, he insisted on carrying her.

  “I’m fine,” she said, pride refusing to allow herself to be carried out of Medical like an invalid. Once in the corridor, however, exhaustion hit hard. When Havik cradled her to his chest, she didn’t protest. He was solid and warm and the perfect balm.

  He brought her to a cabin furnished with the bare necessities. Boxes and bags, presumably their possessions retrieved from the ship, lined the wall but remained unpacked.

  The door opened into a central living space with a kitchenette to one side, complete with an eat-in counter, and a cluster of comfortable looking chairs for a seating area. Clean and bright, the space lacked the lived-in, homey feel of the ship, but she could fix that.

  She spied a familiar object on a side table. “The murder plant!”

  “That is not its name. The bedroom is through there,” Havik said, depositing her in a chair that proved to be as comfy as it looked. “Do you thirst? I will fetch you a beverage. Cleansing room.” He pointed to the other door. “We can request a larger cabin if we require a larger space.”

  “Why would we need a larger cabin?” she asked before thinking. “Oh. Um, I’m totally on board with kids, but I’d like to wait a bit.” They talked about that, right? She was so happy to start their lives together, but she didn’t want to start popping out kids right away.

  He delivered her a cold glass of not-tomato juice. Perfect. “Agreed. While you were in the tank, I met several warriors, their mates, and their sons.” A wry grin tugged at his lips. “I am thankful for the ability to sleep without interruptions.”

  “Oh, that’s so cute. You think I’m gonna let you sleep,” she teased.

  Havik

  “Tell me what I missed while I was asleep.”

  Havik lifted his mate from the chair. She yelped in surprise, and he positioned her, so she sat in his lap. His arms wrapped around her and she snuggled into him.

  Much better.

  “Mais is well,” he started. “She had a minor injury. I offered to take her with us, but she elected to stay with her family.”

  “She can’t. It’s not safe.”

  “They are in a different settlement and a different clan.” He paused, relishing the feel of Thalia in his arms, where she belonged. “She knows my thoughts on the matter.”

  “Stabs?”

  “Gone by the time I returned.”

  “That’s a shame. I was so happy to see him.” She twisted to face him. “Be honest: how amazing was that entrance?”

  “You looked like an avenging dencadiz, full of righteous fury.” He brushed back her shorter hair, and his fingers traced a path from her ears to the smooth curve of her neck.

  “Okay, explain that. My translator is calling it a water witch.”

  “A mythical creature that lives in the ocean and lures its victims to their death.”

  “Oh, a siren.” A pleased grin spread on her face. “We have a similar creature on Earth.”

  “Like a vampire? Really? At the height of a tense situation, when our lives were in jeopardy, you start spouting off the most ridiculous claims?”

  She laughed, pressing her face into his chest like her mirth was a secret. He knew how much she enjoyed causing trouble. “Your face! I thought you were going to laugh.”

  “I nearly did,” he said.

  “And Skullfucker—”

  “Skyll.”

  “Whatever his name was, he got so mad. I just wanted to buy you a little bit of time. It was worth it.”

  “Did you throw a bucket of blood at them?”

  She nodded. “When they grabbed me on the ship, and it was a glass of juice.” More laughter, incredibly sweet laughter. “She vampired me,” she repeated in a gruff voice, then dissolved into more laughter.

  When her laughter subsided, she smoothed a hand over his chest. It came to rest directly over his heart, mirroring the tattoo beneath his shirt. “How is the new clan? Is it what you wanted?”

  He brushed a thumb over the smooth skin at the curve of the neck. For the longest time, all he wanted was a mate and a family—a chance to be the father that Kaos never was to him. Perhaps he got his wish too young. When his mate arrived, he treated her poorly, concerned more about status and the opinion of others. He had been too much like Kaos, he now knew.

  He still wanted all those things, but only with Thalia. Their son would be trouble. He already anticipated much mischief and much laughter.

  “Danger B? You all right?” she asked.

  “Forgive me. I was wondering how I am such a lucky male.” He traced where scarring from his bite once marked her skin.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it. It’s been hard work and pew-pew-pew from the get-go.” She made finger guns to illustrate her point, then looked closer at her index finger. “I fell off a bike when I was ten and sliced my finger on a chain-link fence. The scar is gone. I guess that’s what the doctor meant when he said some differences.”

  Her eyes went wide. “The mate mark!” She slapped a hand over the location in question, then tugged down her shirt. “Fuck. Bite me again.”

  He lowered his head, kissing the spot. “In time,” he murmured.

  “But you need it, so people know I belong to you.”

  “Is that how you think our dynamic works?” His clever mate, usually so perceptive and witty, and yet so wrong. He returned her hand to his heart. She opened the shirt, pushing the fabric away to reveal her handprint inked into his skin.

  She returned her hand to his chest, covering the mate mark she left on him.

  “You claimed me,” he said. “From the very beginning, when I thought I trailed a common thief, you led me on a chase.”

  “It was pretty fun.” A smile tugged at her lips. “You picked me. Over your father. Your family. No one’s ever picked me.”

  “I belong to you. I always have and I am a fortunate male that you informed me of this fundamental fact.”

  “How about we agree that we belong with each other?”

  “Agreed.” His lips claimed hers.

  Chapter 25

  Thalia

  Three Months Later

  “Is cake meant to look like that?” Havik tilted his head at the uneven lump on the plate.

  “It stuck to the pan. Guess I forgot to grease it. I can cover up the uneven parts with frosting,” Thalia said. She refrained from saying the last time she baked a cake had been on her tenth birthday. Amazingly, her mom gave her the cash for a cake mix and supplies. An excited Thalia made a lumpy chocolate cake and it was the greatest thing ever.

  This abomination, however…

  She scooped up a thick glob of icing on a butter knife and eyed the pothole-sized craters. “Probably won’t help,” she concluded.

  “I will retrieve an item from the cafeteria that contains enough sugar and fat to satisfy your sweet tooth,” he said.

  “Store-bought?” She gave a theatrical gasp, like a deeply insulted happy homemaker.

  Despite playing the situation as a joke, it worried her. When Havik informed her that he accepted an invitation to dinner with his ex, she felt less than thrilled. What if the mysterious Vanessa was hung up on Havik and tried to win him back? What if she was smarter and funnier than her? What if they hated each other on sight? And where did Vanessa get off on inviting her ex-husband over for dinner. Who does that?

  Thalia’s mind whirled, always circling the same questions and imagining a hundred ways everything could go wrong. It was bad enough to discover that the ex-wife remarried and was in the
same clan that Havik worked so hard to join. Did he know this before? Who knew? Thalia only found out because Ren could not keep gossip to himself.

  Yeah, they’d be coming back to that.

  “I can’t bring cafeteria cake to dinner with your ex-wife. She’ll judge me,” she said.

  “For what?”

  Thalia tossed the frosting-covered knife into the sink. “For being a bad cook. An inferior wife. Not good enough.” All her old doubts.

  “Vanessa cannot cook,” he said, tail swaying behind him as if amused.

  “Really?”

  “She burned several of the simplest dishes.”

  Thalia felt better already, knowing the perfect Vanessa had some flaws after all. She didn’t have a reason to feel insecure. Havik picked her, and he wore her mark. And so, what if Vanessa went to college and got a fancy degree? Thalia knew she had brains, even if she didn’t have a formal education, and other people knew it too. The nurse, Meridan, asked Thalia to train as her replacement while she took maternity leave. Meridan said that Thalia’s experience plus her willingness to stand up to Kalen made her ideal for the position.

  Deeply flattered, Thalia turned the position down, and not just because she didn’t want to work alongside the grumpy doctor. Being Doc’s assistant had never been her choice. She did it because she feared what ideas Nicky would cook up if she didn’t smile and be the best damn assistant ever. It was dumb luck that she liked Doc. Underneath the shell-shocked man drinking himself to death was a decent guy who did the best he could for her.

  Her heart just wasn’t in nursing or medicine.

  Seeran shocked her with an offer to be the clan’s spymaster. Fine. His actual words were “intelligence consultant,” but Thalia understood that he just couldn’t call her a spymaster. It wasn’t exactly a title you slapped on business cards. Ren also worked for Seeran, but his missions took him off the Judgment. His smaller stature allowed him to disappear into a crowd and not be so obviously Mahdfel about it.

  Mainly, she reviewed recordings and read messages, adding her insights and critiquing Ren. That part was great. The work was interesting and, most important, was her choice and not something she got stuck with.

  “Screw the cake,” she said. “Let’s bring the murder plant.”

  Havik nodded. “Yes. Vanessa enjoys unusual plants. She will appreciate the water leech.”

  “Great. Yay,” Thalia said in a flat voice. She had completely forgotten that the murder plant had originally been meant for the marvelous Vanessa.

  Ugh. Jealousy sucked. She didn’t expect their lives to be smooth sailing, but this jealous streak surprised her. Havik wouldn’t change his mind. She knew that. He took his damn shirt off at every opportunity to show off the handprint tattoo, bragging about how his mate marked him with the blood of her enemy.

  Okay, so it sounded gross, but a man who said gross things like that meant them. He wouldn’t throw her over because a gorgeous super plant genius winked at him.

  Havik fussed with the water leech, removing dead leaves, and cleaning the pot. When the ceramic pot was sufficiently dusted, he dragged a large finger through the white sand, creating a swirling design.

  “It’s a pot filled with dirt. It’s only gonna get so pretty,” she snapped.

  Maybe the murder plant would get the wonderful Vanessa in her sleep.

  Far too quickly, they found themselves outside a door.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked.

  Havik grinned, holding the plant. “Yes. This is a good gift. You are wise to suggest it.”

  She didn’t mean the plant, but sure. Go with that.

  “Because Vanessa loves plants? Hooray,” she said, her voice sour. She was about to throw a temper tantrum and gave zero fucks. “I’m sorry. Apparently, I’m jealous, and it sucks.”

  His eyes softened. “It is a good gift because my mate, despite being jealous, wants to be friendly with a female she is determined not to like, because she is jealous.”

  “Oh, am I jealous? Maybe you should announce it a few more times.”

  His tail danced behind him.

  “Jerk. Stop enjoying yourself,” she grumbled.

  “I love that you are jealous.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. The plant wedged between them unfurled tendrils and brushed against them, searching for the moisture on bare skin. “I do not understand why you care for me so ardently, but I will accept that this is a fault in your thinking.”

  “A bank error in your favor?”

  If he understood that reference, he made no comment. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and happiness zipped through her. “Come. Let us present our superior gift and prove that we are the best mated pair.”

  She snorted at his unexpected competitiveness. “Love you too, Danger B. Let’s do this.”

  Life wasn’t without problems, but it was small potatoes. She had been sold at auction, stuffed in a freezer, and woke up years later on the other side of the galaxy. Somehow, she found the love of her life in a grumpy red alien. They were good together. Better than good. They were better together.

  You reap what you sow.

  Thalia hoped so. They had a lifetime of love and laughter to harvest.

  Epilogue

  Havik

  One Year Later

  A frail male shuffled into the room. With his shoulders bowed and deep lines on his face, he appeared sunken into himself.

  This was the male who tormented his mate?

  “He looks so…old,” Thalia said. She made no move to enter the visitors’ room.

  The guard made an impatient sigh, and Havik tossed the male a glare. He made a small squeak and muttered about taking all the time they needed.

  “I thought I wanted to talk to him. I don’t know. Brag. Show him that he didn’t destroy me,” she said.

  “I believe you wanted to gloat.”

  “I want to stick a knife in his heart. He shot a man right in front of me. The blood sprayed on me. Who does that?” She shook her head, as if clearing unpleasant memories. “I want him to suffer.”

  He did not understand Terran justice. They wanted criminals and wrongdoers to suffer but they had so many rules regarding fair treatment, housing, and food. Had he found the male before the Terran authorities; his mate would not be agonizing over whether to speak to the male who tormented her. They would be standing over a grave.

  Well, he’d probably be pissing on the male’s grave, but that was a small detail.

  He did not want to visit the correctional facility, but Thalia claimed she needed something called “closure.”

  Ridiculous concept. He happily let the desert take his father’s body. He did not require a ceremony to get on with his life. He had his clever mate and a good position in a thriving clan. While he and Ren had been the first of Rolusdreus to join the Judgment, they were not the last. The clan had a healthy mix of warriors from every Mahdfel-allied planet, but the majority were Sangrin-born. While Kaos had been tearing his clan apart, Paax had been building his. He would have enjoyed boasting about this to Kaos, but he could not, for obvious reasons.

  He ran a hand down his braid. Perhaps closure was not such a ridiculous concept.

  Mais remained on Rolusdreus, continuing her wildlife rescue mission. She sent the sporadic update, complete with a video of the egg hatching and photos of infant kumakre. The best video, in his opinion, captured the young kumakre wrestling and tumbling in the sand with the fully grown Stabs’ tail. Ren continued tracking poachers and smugglers. The auction house raid disrupted one cell in a network. There were many more cells to uncover. As for him, he was recruited as a pilot. The Judgment had many crafts that lacked the necessary headroom for the horns of the Sangrin-born warriors. Sometimes he flew Ren on a mission. Other times he patrolled in the depths of dark space.

  The solitude suited him, surrounded by starlight.

  He was a fortunate male. He had a mate he loved and a position he enjoyed in a good clan
. Every day, he saw the outcome of his work. He protected his family and all the families in the system.

  The male sat at a metal table; his hands bound by chains to a fixture on the floor. He looked toward the door, waiting.

  “Can he see us through the glass?” Havik asked the guard.

  “No.”

  Thalia stirred. “Fuck Nicky. We have better places to be,” she said.

  He agreed.

  Thalia

  A cold wind blew. A light layer of snow covered the ground, and the heavy gray clouds promised more snow. Havik adjusted the woolen scarf wrapped around his neck but did not complain.

  She laid the bouquet of colorful spring flowers in front of the memorial. It took some research, but she determined that her mother had been buried in one of the Invasion-era unmarked mass graves. Specifically, this one.

  Hip high, the memorial curved around the site like arms outstretched for an embrace. Tidy rows and columns listed the names of the fallen engraved in stone. A brief search brought her to her mother’s name.

  Stephanie Fullerton.

  Her fingers traced the etching, the cold of the stone chilling her.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she muttered and glanced over her shoulder to Havik. The wind picked up strands of his hair, blowing it into a mess around his face. She knew he felt the cold keenly, but he stood patiently, arms behind his back, a soldier at rest.

  “Mom, you weren’t a very good mom. I know you tried, and I don’t know what you had to deal with.” Thalia swallowed a lump in her throat.

  A year ago, she might have railed about always being second-best, about how angry and lonely she had been growing up, and how she still felt unreasonably angry. According to the dates etched under her mother’s name, Stephanie had been barely more than a child herself when she had Thalia.

  “You did the best you could. It sucked. Sucks. I’m sorry I never got a chance to visit you before. The guy that took me in…Well, he didn’t allow this sentimental stuff, but I could have snuck away if I wanted to.” Thalia hadn’t. Teenage anger and angst kept her away. “Anyway, I’m okay. I thought I should tell you that.”