by Isabel Wroth
“Your mate,” Farro spat in disgust, “You shame your clan by claiming a mate as disgusting and weak as that mutant.”
Keeping his temper became a struggle as soon as Farro took to calling Cassie a mutant. Keeping Farro off guard and in a constant state where he had to scramble for his words was Falken’s game. He could not afford to lose just yet.
“What clan is there to shame? We are all one pride, united, stronger than ever.”
It was here that Farro lost all attempt at schooling his features. White froth gathered in the corners of his mouth and his eyes burned with fanaticism.
“You are a fool! By uniting the clans, T’kalis made us weak!” Farro’s roar bounced off the interior of the white room.
“And yet, as one, we hold and sustain more territory than all the clans put together ever did. We no longer fight amongst ourselves for power or territory. We no longer waste resources, or squabble over which clan has more females of breedable age and kill one another to take those females,” Falken pointed out reasonably.
“We are weaker than ever!” Farro insisted irately, “Tell me, my oh so intelligent son who knows all, who is responsible for the implementation of the Breeding Festival? Why was it created?”
Falken sighed in boredom and folded his arms across his chest, leaning his shoulders against the sterile white walls. Farro turned to pace back and forth in front of him, wildly waving his gel covered hands, the clank of the chain and collar attached to his throat rattling loudly behind him.
“It is irrelevant, as the breeding festival and its creation are not in question.”
Farro went on as though Falken hadn’t spoken. “In the time of my sire’s sire, the Sarazen race was expanding our territory because of the uncontrollable rate of growth among our population. We had stolen the technology for space travel from enemies who thought to invade Saraz and take us as slaves. We took their technology with the intent to spread our people out across the planets within our solar system.
“We were one clan then, ruled by the Blackpaw line, still unbroken, and it was decided amongst the council of elders, the Original Council, that in order to take so many planets and hold them, we needed to separate and become clans who ruled independently. In an effort to slow the population growth, against the Original Council’s advice, the females were poisoned at the command of T’kalis’s grand-sire.
“Within one generation, over a third of the females lost their ability to shift past their horrific half-forms. Their heat cycles shortened, lessened, until only twice yearly did they have any desire at all to breed. The problem of over-population was solved, but now there are twenty males to one female born, so balance was again thrown off and, instead of warring for territory to feed the growing numbers, wars and infighting broke out to take females who still were able to shift fully.
“Nine times out of ten, the female was taken from her mate and her immediate family killed to prevent retaliation. T’kalis’s sire listened to reason from his council and, in an effort to stop the theft of the females, created the breeding festivals. All clans coming together with their single members in one place, no wars, no fighting. The illustrious promise of twice a year, one might be able to find a mate. And for a time it worked, we thought perhaps the poison would eventually work itself out of the population.
“Then T’kalis rose to power, challenging his sire for the right to rule the pride, to again unify the Sarazen people under one clan, and once again the wisdom of the council was ignored. We attempted to reason with him, but having been through the same trials and tribulations as his grand-sire, we did not waste time in taking measures to protect our people.”
Falken listened to the information, digesting the incredulity of it, but could not deny the seed of doubt and the growth of questions that arose.
“And this is the point where your council implanted the Asho with banned technology from our enemy in an attempt to control him to further your goals. I see. Let me guess, the implantation failed at first, so as his offspring were no more than cubs, you killed the Asho’na in hopes of taking T’kalis out at the same time and raising Tarek and T’mai to do your bidding.”
Farro grunted, pacing continuously, twitching with agitation, as he was now unable to control the flow of his confession.
“Yes! But it did not work as we planned. It was as though T’kalis was only spurred on to victory by his madness! He destroyed any who opposed him without prejudice, and like fools, the weakest clans flocked to join him. He had eradicated three clans in total before we gained control via his implant. By then it was too late. Those fools, Ne’tare and Te’sha, guarded both cubs almost obsessively and gave us no opportunity to take them for implantation. So we waited patiently, growing our army-”
“Your army of enslaved Sarazens.” Falken drawled in disgust, but Farro either did not hear him or chose not to hear him.
“Placing them where they would do the most good. Fate smiled on us when Tarek went so many seasons without taking a mate, his hold on the pride seat weakening. So we sent Niora to seduce and claim T’mai and, through our command and through us, T’kalis suggested Tarek allow his brother to rule the pride.
“It was all too easy over the years to manipulate them both, our patience and planning having paid off. Tarek had removed the majority of the males strong enough to have opposed us, and as he doubted himself at every turn, T’mai leaned heavily on the support of his council, our council. We were so close to returning things to the way they had been! So close to finding a way to repair the damage done to our race in generations past! And then, the humans are discovered and we are thrust into chaos!”
Farro threw his hands up in the air to accentuate his fury. Falken hummed with a false sound of sympathy. “It must have been so frustrating. Failure at every turn.”
“Failure?” Farro snarled.
“Abject failure at every turn,” Falken confirmed with a smirk, “And at the hands of such tiny little females and completely nonthreatening males. If not for them, Tarek would never have come home. And if not for the stupidity of you and your Original Council-”
“Stupidity?” Farro roared.
“Stupidity. I’ve listened to you rant and rave about the injustices done to our people. The poisoning of Sarazen females, and yet here you and your cohorts have attempted to poison the human females innocent of any crimes to us. But they are now the mates of the pride’s strongest, most experienced warriors. The force that will drive said warriors to raze this pride to the ground in order to protect them.
“You attempt to poison the Asho’s mate so that they would be unable to find one another during the Breeding Festival, and fail. You take Ohlen’s mate to experiment on her, order a painful death for both of them, and fail. Here you are, claiming how once the Sarazen females were able to change into a fully formed beast, able to birth cubs unlimited to the breeding festival cycle. And we bring home an alien race compatible to ours, able to take our blood, our bond and change fully into a glorious beast.
“Hybrid females blessed with monthly heat cycles and the ability to not only bring joy and happiness to males who feared they would die alone. They bring us hope for the future and everything you’ve just said your conspirators are working towards.
“If it was truly the aim of the Original Council to save our females from the mistakes of our past, by enslaving your own people to accomplish your agenda I might add, you would have come forward and revealed how you have been trying to save us. But you don’t want to save us, you want to keep the power you’ve gained, because you were too weak to rise in any other way.”
Falken knew he had correctly hit a nerve when his sire said nothing.
“For now, we only have four of you. Soon, we will have all twelve of your Original Council. All of your supporters. All of your little puppets. T’mai proved his worth, his loyalty to his pride when he gave it back without contest to Tarek. The Asho’na has given her mate offspring who will be stronger than any our people have ever
seen before.
“T’mai has his true mate. I have my true mate. Brennaugh has his true mate. The strongest and most loyal warriors who have waited half their lives for their one, now have she or he at their side and all of us will see you dead, before we allow those precious to us to be harmed by you or anyone else.”
For the first time in his life, Falken saw fear in his sire’s eyes. Smelled it over the intense reek that permeated the room. Falken thought he would feel vindicated or glad, but all he felt was disgust to know he was born of such a male.
“Speaking only for myself,” Falken went on, advancing to grip his sire by the collar around his throat and jerk Farro up onto the tips of his toes. He did not remember his sire being so much shorter than himself.
Nose to nose, the stink of Farro’s imprisonment was sickening. Or perhaps it was the overwhelming rage that had him so nauseated.
“I will see you dead, before I allow you to enslave your own people, my people. I will see you dead, before I allow you to experiment on your own people as the enemies I have spent most of my life at war with beyond our territory, would do.”
“If I am put to death, your mother dies with me.” Farro gasped out.
Falken gave a snort at the empty threat and shoved Farro away from him in disgust. If his mother was innocent, she would not suffer death, Falken would see to it. His sire could not be taken to S6 for imprisonment. He could be killed by the other prisoners or use his contacts to be liberated. It was more likely Farro would be put into stasis, indefinitely.
“If she is innocent and knows nothing of your treachery, she will be cared for. I will be taking my mate to visit her as soon as I cleanse the stink of your shame from my body.” Falken turned to leave and was brought up short by the short bark of his sire, calling his name.
“I am your sire and you would do nothing to help me?”
Falken turned and faced the male responsible for his creation. There was no love there in his expression, no pride in his son for his successes. Nothing but fear and desperation.
“I have not been your son since the day I left to become a warrior. As I recall, your parting words to me were assurances of my failure and promises I would return to you in shame, begging for your help. And yet here we are. You, the traitor, chained like a common beast to the floor in need of my help. And me, second to the Asho for more than a thousand years. I owe you nothing.”
Falken was through the door when his father’s last words to him hissed across his air.
“Pray that you find the others, before the others find your mate.”
Thirteen
After having sensed the gut-wrenching blow of shock and dismay Falken had experienced, down wherever he was, Cassie had been too distracted and worried to do anything other than pace back and forth in their suite. Something was terribly, horribly wrong.
Not like Falken was in deathly danger, but wrong in the way that he had shut down their bond to prevent her from feeling how destroyed he was by the information he must have received.
It had been hours now since he had shut her out, and every single minute of those hours Cassie had been wringing her hands with worry. Well, there had been those five or six times she had yanked open the door to find Zarak, Matem and six more warriors waiting in the hallway.
If not for their cat-like reflexes, two of them would have fallen over in shock when she whipped the door open the first time. She had demanded to know if there was any news on whatever it was Falken was doing, but all of them had shrugged and looked oblivious.
Cassie had shrieked in frustration and slammed the door in their faces. Useless. Totally useless. They had quit being startled by her door slamming by about the fourth time in, but their answer remained unchanged and Cassie was starting to seriously worry.
She had all but memorized Falken’s personnel file, the portion she had access to anyway, and nowhere in it were there any reports on his interrogation skills. So the only reason Tarek or T’mai would ask for Falken is because one of the prisoners had to be someone Falken knew.
From the brief glimpse he had allowed her to experience, the depth of his shock, it further stood to reason that prisoner was someone close to him. Close enough to have Falken reeling. His file said he had no siblings or cousins. No other immediate family except his parents.
The thought had barely crossed her mind when the door to the suite opened and Falken walked in.
Cassie was certain shit had hit the fan at the sight of the completely blank, expressionless mask her mate was wearing. His eyes were on the floor as he shut the door behind him and leaned on it, his hand pressed to the wood panel like he was dizzy and needed the stability. She crossed the room to him and slipped her arms around him.
He jolted like he hadn’t been expecting her to be there, or he was just so thrown that he hadn’t noticed her scent when he walked in. A hot, shuddering breath washed over her throat as he wrapped his arms around her and held on until she could just barely breathe. Still, he kept his side of their bond locked up tight. A steel door to keep her out of what she was almost one hundred percent sure, were stormy, turbulent thoughts.
She could barely scent his emotions, that’s how shut down he was. Even with her nose turned to his throat, the only scent she took in was him, in all his masculine glory. Cassie didn’t ask if he was okay, she reached up to slide her hand down the thick stripe of his hair and asked, “What can I do?”
His lips moved softly across her neck, nuzzling at his mark on her skin. “This, for a little while longer.”
“As long as you need.”
She closed her eyes and waited, luxuriating in the warmth he put off. The feel of him surrounding her settled her nerves and made all seem right in the world, even though it absolutely was not all right. It took him a long time to settle, but when he finally shifted, it was to press a string of soft kisses up the side of her face, pausing with his lips on her forehead.
It struck Cassie as odd, how deeply such a sweet, chaste kiss could affect her. It was like being submerged in the bath. Warmth immediately surrounded her, oozing wonderfully into every pore and left her almost puddled with the immediate relaxation. If she had been pressed to describe the physical sensation of love, this is the example Cassie would have gone to. The tender warmth of a forehead kiss.
She couldn’t help but smile at the silliness of it, but of all Falken’s kisses, this one made her feel the most loved. He drew in a slow, deep breath and held it for a heartbeat or two before releasing it, drawing her out of her thoughts of kisses.
“Mother or father?” she asked gently.
Falken huffed a short sound, then gave in to humorless laughter. “Father. How did you know?”
“You don’t typically interrogate prisoners, so the only reason why Tarek would ask you to interrogate someone is if you knew the prisoner. All of your closest friends are already here in the fortress. No immediate family or relatives other than your parents. I may have, um, memorized your personnel file.”
His fingers found their way deep into her hair, kneading with just enough pressure to make her want to purr. “Have I told you lately how remarkable you are, my one?”
“A few hours have gone by.”
He was silent for a long time, when she would have expected him to repeat the heartwarming words of admiration. But as he had been with startling regularity, Falken surprised her.
“I would ask something of you, though it goes against my instincts.”
“Alright.”
“We gained much information from my sire, but the question remains whether or not my mother has been complicit in his activities. Perhaps it is only my hope that tells me she has not been, but she is here in the citadel and has asked to speak to me. I would like to take you with me.”
It was too bad Falken was still so closed off. If he had let his emotion flow back and forth through their bond, he would have felt her awe. Her uncertain excitement at the prospect of meeting the alien female who had given birth to thi
s glorious warrior. It was kind of a daunting idea, wondering what kind of reaction Falken’s mother might have towards her.
Cassie knew without a doubt, if she’d brought Falken home to meet her parents, they would have been horrified. Imagining the looks on their faces caused her to smile when she leaned back to look up at him.
“It used to be a human custom, you know. Meeting the parents of your prospective mate before official bonding.”
Falken’s brow shot up incredulously. “Prospective mate? Do you feel as though our bonding is not official?”
Cassie didn’t need a telepathic link into his brain to hear the uncertainty and surprise in his tone. She felt him reach for her though, a cautious brush of his mind against hers to decipher the truth of her next words. In doing so, he allowed her a quick glimpse into the boiling sea of rage and shame writhing around inside him like a barrel filled with sharp-toothed monsters.
She could feel doubt slithering like some kind of serpent, and how he fought it off with the strength of his belief in himself and his position as a strong member within the pride. But its insidious hiss was distracting him from his absolute certainty, and leaving room for situations just like this where he did not feel so secure.
She rubbed her fingertips into the tight chords of muscle across his shoulders and offered him a soft smile.
“I wasn’t talking about us. I was trying, and obviously failing to say, that I would be honored to meet your mother.”
*****
Despite the turmoil rocking around inside Falken, he walked confidently down the hallway with his head held high, his shoulders back proudly and an expression of determined calm on his face. He walked with a purposeful stride that Cassie had to stretch her legs to keep up with.
If she’d been a shortie like Gwen or Andi, she’d have been jogging alongside him.
He held her hand comfortably, keeping her close while his small retainer of warriors surrounded them in a protective knot. Falken still hadn’t told her what his father had said to him, though whatever had been said had Falken on edge. The second they had stepped outside their suite, their eight-man team was on them like a bad rash.
