For the Clan

by Archer Kay Leah

  Table of Contents

  For the Clan

  Book Details

  Dedication

  00

  01

  02

  03

  04

  05

  06

  07

  08

  09

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  About the Author

  FOR

  THE

  CLAN

  ARCHER KAY LEAH

  Canada, 2165 AD. The Water Wars and a decimated economy have taken their toll. Anyone who doesn't live in a military-patrolled metropolis lives in a clan. But being in a clan doesn't mean safety.

  And for a Ven like Roan Lee, it doesn't matter where he lives. Safety is a luxury. So is freedom.

  Roan is desperate to escape the governtary's exploitation and torture. He is nothing to them but 54σK1, an artifact born from a genetic mishap. When the chance to escape arises, he makes a run for it—and encounters the lover from his past, twisting his future into a second chance he never expected.

  As leaders of Clan Teach, Jace Ama and his wife, Cayra Diega, have enough difficulty keeping their people safe. When Roan is thrown to their feet as a prisoner, their marriage becomes an additional challenge. Jace still loves Roan, but where does that leave Cayra?

  BOOK DETAILS

  For the Clan

  By Archer Kay Leah

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Michelle Kelley

  Cover designed by Natasha Snow

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition March 2016

  Copyright © 2016 by Archer Kay Leah

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781620047682

  Print ISBN 9781620047699

  With my greatest thanks to Jeremy Greenway, one of the loveliest, classiest guys I know. Not only did you make working long shifts worth every second, this book wouldn't have been the same without you. A kernel of inspiration can change everything. What was an experience of yours during a walk one average day became the emotional foundation for these characters. Thank you for telling that story, sharing a beautiful image of two young men in a special moment. May your students find you just as fantabulous as I do on their own literary journeys. We still need to get that coffee.

  And to the young men in that story, my humble gratitude. It was more than a moment in time. It was a touch of real magic.

  00

  Border of Port Elgin and Southampton, Ontario

  July, 2150 AD

  Roan didn't want to go back to the settlement. They could run away right now and start a new life. Between them, they had enough survival skills to start their own clan—one without rules, where Jace Ama wasn't the son of a leader and Roan wasn't the unfortunate bastard of a lineage that never should've existed.

  Roan Lee bit his bottom lip, watching Jace descend into the ravine. While Jace concentrated, trying not to tumble headlong into the leatherwood bushes and Queen Anne's lace, Roan's thoughts strayed to the chestnut-coloured curls at the base of Jace's neck. Since they'd left the clan settlement, those curls taunted him, flirting with the collar of Jace's black t-shirt and baiting Roan to touch Jace's light brown skin. If Roan removed his thin pleather gloves, he could run his fingers through Jace's hair. He'd done it before, the silky strands divine on his sensitive, fair skin…

  "Coming or what?" Jace called from the bottom of the ravine. A playful, boyish grin brightened his daring glance. "Or am I wandering on my own?"

  Roan stuck out his tongue before pushing off the edge and stumbling down. With a jolt, he stopped before Jace, pressing their chests together. "Did you want to do it alone?" Roan whispered, his lips close enough to almost taste the sweetened blueberries and salted rabbit on Jace's breath.

  "And miss out on time with you?" Jace rubbed noses with Roan. "Screw that." He slipped his hand into Roan's and pulled gently. "Sunset doesn't last forever. Let's just enjoy it."

  Because once it's done, everything comes up pumpkin, and you're the prince this beast shouldn't touch, Roan wanted to say.

  Instead, he kept his misgivings to himself and followed Jace through the forest. They trod slowly through the darkening shadows cast by the tall red maple and white birch trees. Above, crows cawed and chased after a hawk circling above the green canopy. A warm wind swept around the trees, rustling branches and kicking up fallen leaves.

  Despite the beauty and lulling calm, Roan imagined the sound of waves crashing on rocks, wishing he could run with Jace to the poorly patrolled beach in Southampton and walk alongside the lake. It had been the kind of day when Lake Huron would've glistened brilliant blues and greens if viewed at the right angle—beauty he wanted to share with Jace every day, not just the days the clan was permitted to fish and gather whatever lay on shore.

  "What you thinking?" Jace stopped and faced Roan, his hazel gaze locked onto Roan's dark red stare. "You're quiet again. Spill."

  "It's nothing. Just thinking about you."

  "No, you're thinking about us."

  "There's not really a difference."

  "Sure there is," Jace argued, toying with the longer strands of Roan's dark blond hair. "When you're thinking about me, you look like I'm giving you a lap dance. When you think about us, you look like you're contemplating a kidnapping."

  "Now you're just making stuff up."

  "Or not. Maybe I'm telling you what I want you to do."

  Roan almost choked. "Jace…"

  Unable to form a better response, Roan cupped Jace's face and touched their foreheads together. They couldn't do any of what Jace said, even though he was right about all of it. Both sixteen, they were still under the legal supervision of Moham Ama, Jace's father and leader of Clan Teach. Leaving the clan wasn't permissible until they were twenty-one.

  Although in Jace's case, there wouldn't be any leaving, regardless of age or law. He was expected to stay and lead the clan after his father. Jace's fate was connected to the clan's, his future mapped out.

  What Roan and Jace felt for each other didn't help. While it wasn't against clan laws, it wasn't ideal for Jace's future. If anything, it was a miracle they'd managed to have a relationship this intimate, comprised of stolen glances and secret moments purchased with lies.

  Not to mention the inconvenience of Roan's genetics, a problem they could never change.

  Jace clasped his hands around Roan's neck. "I know. It kills me, too. I never asked to be his son. I never asked for this life, moving around, living off the land. Hating the governtary. Just like you never asked to be a Ven or have magic. The universe screwed us, but I can't do anything about it. Just like I can't stop feeling what I do for you."

  Words crumbled in Roan's throat as Jace's lips took his in a gentle kiss. Thoughts of Moham forgotten, Roan drew Jace closer, his cautious desire feeding on Jace's low moans. A lifetime together was all Roan wanted. It wasn't as if he asked for the world, the moon, or all of the satellites and rovers the governtary had neglected in the galaxy. Of all the things he could dream of, he wanted only Jace, someone who loved him despite their differences.

  Despite being a freak of nature.

  Roan pulled back and caught his breath, flicking his glance to the east. A hundred steps away was the cave where his mother had abandoned him when he was seven, before soldiers captured her. Orphaned, he owed his survival
to Moham, who had found him and offered refuge.

  Now he was in love with Moham's only child.

  "And here I thought I could distract you," Jace whispered.

  "Sorry." Sheepishly, Roan kicked at the ground and dug his hands into his pants pockets. "You didn't lose me. I'm still thinking about us."

  "I know." Jace lifted Roan's palms with his own and laced their fingers together. "So maybe you only partially owe me." The dim light hid part of his smile. "Show me something beautiful."

  "What?"

  "You heard me. Show me something. Something you'd never show anyone else."

  After a slow breath, Roan stripped off his gloves and shoved them into the pocket of his blue work shirt. Several options came to mind, but one stood out among the rest.

  Eyes closed, Roan raised his hands and focused on the red figure outlined in his mind. Pushing down on his insides with his thoughts, he tugged at the energy pooling around his heart. Brilliant colours burst behind his eyelids. A familiar heat surged through his arms and wrapped around his fingers tighter than gloves. His pulse raced, pumping blood faster and harder, the drumming in his head mirroring the beating of his blood vessels.

  "Ha!" Roan thrust his hands upwards, tossing away the red light binding his wrists.

  The light jumped and twirled, spinning until wisps formed the body of a large bird. Graceful ribbons of orange and yellow light laced together, taking the shape of wings and a trailing crown of feathers almost as vivid as the long red and gold tail.

  Black eyes and a beak faced them before the bird took flight. It soared across the breeze and flew around the trees. Ethereal and shining, the bird plummeted through the leaves, shaking branches all the way down. Small birds squawked and fled their nests, disappearing into the dark.

  The bird swooped low towards Jace's knees, knocking him back. It circled Jace, the delicate feathers of light sweeping across his cheeks, casting him in a soft red glow. Jace's gaze glimmered with awe as the bird shot towards the sky and winked out of existence. Small particles of light sprinkled the forest like pixie dust.

  In the raining red and yellow light, Jace pulled Roan close by the collar and kissed him. There was nothing gentle in it, only raging passion.

  Roan pulled Jace back by the waist and leaned against a tree, their ragged breaths deafening him. Maybe one day they'd have more. Maybe one day…

  Leaves crunched. Whispers caught on the breeze. The air wafted, carrying the odour of sweat and chemical fumes.

  Roan pushed Jace back. The hair on Roan's neck stood on end.

  A dark figure launched towards them from the darkness. An unmarked metal canister hit the ground at Roan's feet.

  Smoke burst forth, engulfing Roan's body.

  "Hands behind your head," voices yelled, followed by clicks. "Hands up behind your head! Get on your knees!"

  "Roan?" Jace called, grappling Roan's arms in the thick smoke. "What's going on?"

  Roan hacked and gagged, swatting the smoke away. He couldn't see Jace—he couldn't even see his own feet through his irritated eyes.

  "Roan!" Jace's fingernails dug into Roan's wrist as his grip slipped down Roan's forearms. "Don't let them take me!"

  Jace's hands ripped away from Roan.

  "Get on your knees," voices commanded again. A sharp object rammed Roan's knee, bashing his kneecap.

  Yelping, Roan fell. Through the dissipating smoke, soldiers in black uniforms and masks rushed at him, their assault rifles aimed at his head and heart. Military. The governtary. No!

  He struggled to stand. Lunging forward, he struck at the blurred faces.

  A rifle slammed down on his wrists before the butt of the gun smashed his jaw.

  "Down on the ground, Ven," a soldier demanded, threatening to hit Roan again.

  "Roan!" Jace screamed from behind them.

  On instinct, Roan stared past the soldiers to the faint light from a headlamp. Even with burning retinas, he could see Jace in the hold of Kai and Vera, two sentries from Clan Teach. Moham's guards and friends. Kai's tall, broad body seized Jace by the waist while Vera's lithe form fought Jace's arms. They hauled Jace back, navigating towards the camp settlement.

  "Jace." Roan stepped towards him. Gun muzzles jabbed him back.

  Jace fought back, kicking Kai's shins and hitting Vera's face. "Let me go! I'm not the one they're attacking, you idiots. Go save him!" He raked Kai's arms and punched Vera's chest.

  Kai smacked Jace in the neck, stunning Jace.

  "Last time, lab elf. Hands. Head. Now!" The soldier in front of Roan jammed the gun to Roan's groin.

  Groaning, Roan collapsed in surrender. Soldiers jerked his arms as they clamped cold metal cuffs over his injured wrists. They yanked him up and pushed him in the opposite direction of the settlement, his hands hanging limp in front of him.

  "Don't let them take you," Jace hollered. "Don't leave me."

  Roan spun on his heel. In the distance, barely visible in the light from Kai's helmet, Kai and Vera dragged Jace, hitting him as he continued to struggle. Jace wrenched one arm free, reaching for Roan with an open palm.

  A strangled cry escaped Roan's throat. He reached towards Jace, clawing air.

  Then darkness separated them completely.

  01

  Non-patrolled airspace over Old London region, Ontario

  June, 2165 AD

  If he could just close his eyes, concentrate, and move his hands the right way, the jet would plummet and splinter into thousands of fragments on impact. Followed by a massive fire, people would think four jumbo planes had crashed.

  Just.

  It was one of the only words Roan hated more than all others. His life was nothing but a series of justs.

  Just this, just that. Putting the just in justice. Screw the double meanings. Whoever created these idiotic terms should be hauled out and shot in the balls a few hundred times. Roan scowled at the polished black interior of the jet's cargo bay, unwilling to give any of the dozen soldiers the satisfaction of watching them. And screw every one of you who buys into the justice bull. You want to do the world a favour? Die. Simple as that.

  "What you looking at, blood fairy?" Captain Caull yelled from the other side of the noisy bay.

  Roan clenched his jaws. Not you, asshole, so shut it.

  Ignoring the snorts of approval from the other men, he fell back, resting uncomfortably against the curved wall. Rather than waste his breath on them, Roan adjusted his dark shades, hissing at the thick titanium cuffs biting his wrists. Not even half an hour on the flight to Old London and already the inside of his arms were raw. He couldn't stop twitching, fidgeting—anything to keep from thinking about what they were doing. Maybe it was the latest cocktail they'd injected into his blood. Maybe it was the fact he hated being dragged out and abused for the governtary's amusement. He'd never asked to be their slave; to be poked and prodded until he wanted to tear their faces apart with his teeth. He certainly didn't ask to be soaring toward an assault they'd jokingly labeled a war game.

  At this rate, being locked in the insulated box he called his room was better.

  "Hey, test tube Merlin," the young soldier across from Roan bellowed, his voice almost too low to carry over the engines. "Answer your superior officer."

  "Your mother," Roan answered, glancing at the dark-haired, umber-skinned Ven woman beside him. Despite her trembling hands, Sheyla elbowed him in the ribs and hissed. Her dark red eyes narrowed, telling him to stop making the trip worse.

  Behind the command, he recognized the thin layer of terror. A new recruit to the Sigma program, Sheyla was still learning what it meant to be governtary property. This was the first time they were trotting her out to see what damage she could do hyped up on the purest methamphetamine and cocaine cut with berberine and a drug they never disclosed.

  With his luck, he wouldn't kill her.

  With her luck, he would.

  "What kind of answer is that?" Caull waved his gloved hand through the air, his other hand
gripping the belt latched to the cargo hold. "And you'll have to be more specific, 'cause we've all got mothers. Though yours is the biggest whore of them all."

  "Two words," Anaheim, a third soldier, added. "Breeding program."

  Roan's muscles seized. His toes curled inside his scuffed army boots. His hands fisted, making the wide cuffs tighter. Taking deep breaths, he reminded himself he was buckled to the wall. Otherwise he'd have leapt to the end of the bench and smashed Anaheim's head against the wall until it split.

  "Don't," Sheyla muttered, her teeth chattering. She clamped her cuffed wrists between her knees and noisily sipped a breath. If the governtary wanted to know if she was immune to the drugs like Roan, they already had their answer.

  "Couldn't do a thing even if I wanted to," Roan mumbled. Captivity in the Sigma program was bad enough. He didn't need reminders about his mother's fate.

  Then again, no one cared what he needed or didn't need. He was a joke to the normal humans who got to walk free, even if caught inside a vile trap of their own delusions. They could enjoy twisting his insides and torturing his mind without expecting retribution.

  And he got the joy of drawing breath.

  I hate you all. I hope you rot. Roan settled back, willing his muscles to relax.

  Sheyla's toes tapped erratically. Her leg slid up and down his, making Roan's gun holster rub against the inside of his thigh. If she wasn't such a mess, he'd have told her to quit it. Though truthfully, the last bit of empathy he'd managed to keep wanted to hug her and keep her calm before hallucinations baited her insanity. She resembled the rest of them in a black military uniform, but inside, she was a fearsome beast clawing at the inside of her tightening skin. How they considered it wise to equip her with grenades and loaded rifle magazines was beyond him. He barely understood why they'd given him the same weapons in addition to the JK00 assault rifle strapped to the floor at his feet.

  Even without holding the gun, he could imagine the cool touch of the slick metal. Maybe this time, he'd kill the real enemy.