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  The water from the tap was icy and helped him until he heard the lavatory door open. Before he could look over his shoulder, arms wrapped around him and he was surrounded by Sohm’lan’s pheromones. He bit his tongue to keep from moaning. He had no idea if his brothers would be able to hear him through the walls, and he really did not want to find out. He braced his hands on the granite countertop as Sohm’lan leaned into him.

  “I need to touch your scales,” Sohm’lan whispered and Mestor could not deny him.

  He had yet to put on his uniform jacket and was only wearing his sleeveless undershirt. But Sohm’lan did not run his palms over Mestor’s arms. No, he pulled the material from where it was tucked in his pants, slipping his hands under the garment. Any semblance of calm was shattered when Sohm’lan raked his claws over Mestor’s scales. He hissed and widened his stance as his sex slipped from his body.

  “I was going to lure you to my quarters after the meeting,” he confessed. “We would have had more privacy.

  “I could not wait.” Sohm’lan’s confession only aroused Mestor more and he whined with need. “My scent on you is fading, and I lost my patience. You try me in so many ways, my amor.” Since when did anything about him test Sohm’lan’s patience? “Take off this shirt before I rend it in two and you have to beg your brother for a replacement.”

  Mestor pulled the garment over his head in one motion, turning to tug at Sohm’lan’s uniform. He did not stop to question when his pants were shoved down his hips, trapping his tail against his thighs. His erection was immediately grabbed, and he lifted on his toes as he was stroked.

  “Get this off before I render it useless.” If Sohm’lan could use the threat, then so could he.

  His warlord chuckled, letting him go only long enough to mostly disrobe in a couple flicks of the wrist. He was just as aroused as Mestor, his sex was heavy between his thighs and Mestor reached for it. They came together in a heated crush of scales and claws. Powerful pheromone-laden oil was secreted from their palms. He stopped being conscious of the noise they made and concentrated on covering every scale with their combined scent. They did not work their sex, simply holding onto each other until they orgasmed from the sheer pleasure of rubbing scales. Sohm’lan’s spend landed on Mestor’s stomach and Sohm’lan’s resulting satisfied growl had him staring up at his amor, blinking dazedly.

  “No washing off until tonight,” Sohm’lan demanded, rubbing the quickly drying essence into Mestor’s scales. “There will be no doubt you are claimed.”

  He grinned, feeling a little drunk. “As if there was a question.”

  Bemused, he let Sohm’lan clean them up, a fierce possessiveness sparking when Sohm rubbed Mestor’s spend across his abdomen. Once properly dressed and the wrinkles smoothed away, he pressed his forehead against Sohm’lan’s. “Late-meal in my quarters. Make sure you bring fresh clothing.”

  “I will comm you when I am on my way,” Sohm replied before opening the lavatory door.

  They had to have been in the room for some time since all eight Feteine were present, a couple speaking with Azaes, Zeus, and Dargon. Everyone glanced at Mestor as he exited the room, and he froze. Sohm’lan moved past him, grabbing his hand and pulling him along as if they had done nothing of interest. Of course the Feteine would not care. He imagined they had little interest in such things. His brothers, on the other hand, met his eyes but he did not find any teasing in those depths, only understanding.

  “Let us have a seat, and I will show you the map I have of the Haven Star System.” Azaes directed everybody to the table which had been elongated to seat more guests. “Valespia is the fifth planet from their sun. For security reasons, the other planets in the system are unoccupied.”

  The rest of the morning was filled with locating Valespia’s satellites and talking about the orbital stations over the planet that held the star system’s military and a division of the Galactic Imperial Patrol—the GIP. They speculated about where those starships were and the ways they could be locked down by an outside force. No one was sure how those forces had been neutralized, and so the discussion only spawned more questions.

  Both he and Azaes were unable to farsee to their arrival in the Haven system. That did not necessarily mean anything, only that there were too many possible futures. Azaes was adamant about having plans of action for each scenario, and all the warlords were brought in early to discuss strategy. A break for the midday meal was taken. Afterward, Zeus kissed Dargon and Alpha farewell and went to attend to his other duties. The second half of the meeting was conducted by Dargon and Alpha. Alpha was the foremost expert on the V’Saar and the Arthro War and there was much to learn. Even the Feteine were able to relay what they had witnessed while they watched the weak spots in the grid. The warlords would take the information and disseminate it down the ranks. They would be ready for anything when The Gorgon arrived at Valespia. The one thing that was evident after the meeting was that the Alpha-Zetamites were a force to be reckoned with when angered.

  When the warlords and Feteine departed, leaving Mestor with Azaes, Sohm’lan, and Dargon, he asked the question that had been plaguing him. “Are the V’Saar something like the Alpha-Zetamites?”

  Dargon’s expression turned stormy, clearly offended by the question.

  “Let me explain,” Mestor said quickly. “Just recently, we found out that Poseidon, the founder of Atlainticia and the father of the Mar’Sani, is not a fable and definitely not dead. This makes him older than I want to contemplate, and I suspect that he is an Ancient. Then we meet Alpha’s oldest son, Star Eater, another member of the race of Ancients that everyone believes died out several, if not hundreds, of centuries ago. At the same time, we learn that at least Queen Isolt and Atizen participated in the Arthro War, making them extremely long-lived like Alpha-Zetamites and Ancients. Alpha has said that Star Eater experiments with his shape, which led me to believe that Star Eater’s true form is the same or similar to Alpha and Zeta’s. Is it possible that the V’Saar are the same or perhaps emerged from the same source as the Alpha-Zetamites?”

  Dargon stroked Alpha as if attempting to soothe him.

  “I am sorry that I had to ask, but the question is important. Zeus said something in passing about how Alpha cannot be destroyed. Are the V’Saar the same?”

  “Alpha is not angry at your question, it has just been a trying day, pulling up old, buried memories that are attached to the loss of not only his bonded but so many others he loved dearly.” Dargon sat on one of the cushioned sofas. Leaning back, he closed his eyes.

  Mestor noticed the lines of exhaustion around his eyes and mouth. But before he could suggest they continue the conversation another day, Dargon sighed and started talking.

  “The V’Saar can die. He does not think that they are like him or the Ancients since he has never seen any evidence that the V’Saar can change their shape. The source where he and Zeta were born could have produced the first V’Saar or perhaps their ancestor. The more he thinks about it, the more possible he thinks it is, considering how long-lived they seem to be. Other species that are born on planetary surfaces have much shorter life spans. The Ancients… yes, their original form is very similar to the Alpha-Zetamites’ and they share the longevity. Those who have perished did so because they faded, the burden of time was too much to bear. Others gave themselves to create something. There are Ancients around, just hidden, and their offspring are also long-lived, though each successive generation has shorter life spans for no other reason than that they have set mental and physical limitations on themselves.”

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dargon accepted the glass of water Azaes offered. “The threat of the V’Saar is not that they are long-lived but that the offspring are just as long-lived, dying through violence but never from natural causes. They keep spreading out, consuming resources until there is nothing left, and they must move on. The biggest advantage the Ancients and Alpha-Zetamites had was that they cannot be destroyed through violence.”
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  Dargon gasped as if he was seeing something, perhaps shown to him by Alpha. “The Alpha-Zetamites were unrelenting, and they devastated the V’Saar who attempted to stand against them. The V’Saar saw them and thought them easy prey, weak because of their shape, their lack of a rigid form. Even when Alpha, Zeta, and the Ancients had killed the majority of the V’Saar, some of those, Atizen included, were in denial about their chances of winning, thinking their queen could bear new armies in record time. But Queen Isolt understood she was looking at her and her people’s extermination if she did not accept the peace that was offered.”

  His green eyes were filled with a sadness that prompted Mestor to reach over and take Dargon’s hand. “Though the spread of the V’Saar stopped, trillions of lives were lost. Whole species were utterly destroyed before Alpha and Zeta even knew there was a threat. They lost all their bonded. If Zeus and I were separated from Alpha for an extended period, we would struggle to live and would eventually fade. The bonded of the Alpha-Zetamites were taken from their planet and… warehoused for food. So many were already dead when their location was found. The rest were breathing their last. It had taken Alpha and Zeta too long to locate them and, as a result, Alpha’s bonded Jia’an and Volante died in his arms. The V’Saar reaped his fury. I have no doubt that Alpha and Zeta would destroy planets if that happened again. Losing us is his worst fear.”

  Azaes place his hand over Mestor’s and Dargon’s. “Then we ensure the grid never falls.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sohm’lan

  * * *

  Sohm’lan sat in the corner of the lounge, content that no one attempted to sit with him. He was not looking for company. The day had seemed longer than it actually was. Before signing off from his shift, he formally petitioned Azaes for troops to be sent with Zeus and the Oethra 7 when they arrived in Valespian space. If the planet was under siege, then the Oethra 7 would sneak the Fal’Amoric to Valespia’s surface while The Gorgon kept the enemy’s attention. The Gorgon had left Atlainticia with a full company of a thousand foot. The Oethra 7 was much smaller but he thought they could carry at least three hundred. They did not know what kind of trouble they would be facing once they reached Valespia’s surface. Besides, with Dargon carrying the next Vondorian generation, they needed the extra protection.

  He was a bit frustrated since they were still in the dark about so many things and were just waiting for more information. After speaking Kryp Istere’Se, they had contacted the Dire D’Noss homeworld. Normally, they would speak the Council of Neighn councilmember for the species, but since communication to Valespia was cut off, Azaes reached out to Sirbolli directly. He had not believed they would be able to speak to the overlord at first contact. The assistant had finally returned their call, highly skeptical since the proper channels were not used. Not sure who to trust, Azaes was brief in his request, and they were scheduled to talk with Overlord Wrik Brouq’yd’Se a few hours before they reached Valespia. Sohm’lan understood how difficult it was to adjust the schedule of someone of the overlord’s status and responsibilities. They were lucky they could be squeezed in so quickly instead of waiting moons. But the wait was still frustrating. They needed to verify what Kryp told him before they arrived in Valespia. The time of the meeting was cutting it close.

  As difficult as the day had been, Sohm’lan had to admit, if only to himself, that he needed some time to himself. He could not retreat to his quarters with Mestor’s scent clinging to his sleeping platform, and the sparse furnishings, as well as the linens in the lavatory. He struggled with this insatiable need to constantly locate Mestor and ensure his scales not only gleamed with their claiming, but that he still wore their combined scents. He was trying to moderate his time with Mestor, though he thought he was a bit too late. Once he had decided to give in, he could not get enough of his amor.

  It was ironic. These past moons, Mestor had been the pursuer, hunting Sohm’lan down every chance he got. Now the tables were turned and Sohm’lan was the one stalking Mestor’s scent through the corridors, cornering Mestor and giving him little pleasures and then leaving him wanting. In the evening, when he entered Mestor’s quarters, his prince would tackle him, cursing him and demanding Sohm’lan claim him again. Oh, how he made Mestor sing.

  Pheromones filled his corner of the room, and he honestly did not care that he was releasing mating scents simply from thinking about Mestor. He was proud to be Mestor’s amor. All week he had worn the sleeveless uniforms to show off his shining scales. He washed carefully so that Mestor’s scent would stay with him until he ambushed his prince in the middle of the day. Honestly, he could not get enough and allowed himself to gorge on Mestor, trying to store up memories in anticipation of the day Mestor realized he did not really want Sohm’lan as a mate.

  He frowned down at his hands, trying to relax his clenched fists. So many changes were coming, and he was afraid they would upset this new balance between him and Mestor. Azaes was Heir Apparent, and though he assisted Valdor every day, Valdor wanted to ensure Azaes had time to adjust to his leadership role before Valdor stepped down. To keep from hovering, Valdor attended to business on Valespia. Ashari would be close by if Azaes needed immediate help, and Valdor could return home if something went terribly wrong, but they had confidence that Azaes could handle anything.

  When Azaes ascended the throne, Mestor would become his Chief Warlord. Sohm’lan would step down, reporting directly to Mestor before he retired. Bringing Zeus home was an opportunity for Mestor to get used to being the Chief Warlord where he would oversee Azaes’s security as well as the military. The twins leaving Atlainticia to pick up Zeus was a test run. Occasionally, Sohm’lan forgot this and completely understood why Valdor had stepped away by going to Valespia. Handing over control was harder than he thought it would be, even when he was handing it to his amor. He had been Valdor’s right hand for so many summers that he lived his position. Being Chief Warlord to the emperor had become who Sohm’lan was and though he was proud Mestor would be taking his place, Sohm’lan did not know what he would do once he retired.

  Mar’Sani lived long lives, the People of the Longing more so. As people grew in status, they changed occupations. Sohm’lan had been a warlord since the age of twenty-two, serving his emperor for fifty-three summers. What was he supposed to do next? He had never put any thought into the future. He could remain a warlord for a couple of summers, but it would be unseemly for him to spend another twenty summers at this occupation. Currently, he was Mestor’s amor, but he was not sure if they would transition to mates. He had been thirty-two when he mated Niobe, the same age the twins were now. Surely Mestor wanted young, something Sohm’lan could not give him. Would Mestor leave him to pair with a female of a formidable bloodline who could bear him younglings? Atlainticia did have a surrogacy center but could a prince use the program without censure from the purist noble houses who valued tradition? What difficulties would that cause the family?

  What about what he wanted? If Sohm’lan became Mestor’s mate, he would help to raise any youngling brought into their home. The thought made him uncomfortable and nervous. He loved being a waterfather, but could he be a father? The responsibilities were different, though there were many who would disagree. Sohm’lan never saw himself as a father figure but a friend and mentor. He only disciplined the twins when they were training, but never in their personal life. He was there for support and guidance but nothing more. Poseidon’s balls, he was not even sure he wanted young of his own.

  Groaning to himself, he rubbed his tired eyes. He refused to dwell on what changes the future might wrought, immediately deciding he would live in the now.

  He glanced around the central lounge. Here he found a sliver of peace since Mestor’s scent was not present. It was late midday; the switching of shifts meant the corridors were louder than normal as people headed to their quarters and began their downtime. An active starship did not have long periods of quiet. There was always a shift of equal personnel cove
ring the hours when the other half of the occupants had free time.

  In the far corner of the room, several Elite Honor Guards conversed quietly while sipping beverages. In another corner, a set of white-scaled Chimera triplets lounged. Strangely, they surrounded Axis de la Rynch, Dargon’s navigator. A book lay forgotten on Sohm’lan’s lap as he surreptitiously watched that group. Were the Chimera flirting with Axis?

  The three brothers, Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix Narkis watched Axis with hungry gazes. Sohm’lan did not see the attraction. Axis was a GyrFalconi with dark brown skin and a plume of red-tipped, gray feathers covering his head. His nose was unique, covered with a wide boney-plate that was not quite like a beak since he had a chin and a set of plump lips. His round black eyes had an outer ring of bright yellow and they missed nothing. He quickly glanced away when Axis met his stare. The triplets immediately followed Axis’s gaze. He did not want to give the Chimera the impression that he was interested. Far from it, but he was curious.

  Terrens were eventually kicked off the GyrFalconi homeworld, Aries 7, and sent back to the Milky Way, but not before they had done irreparable harm to millions of GyrFalconi. Many like Axis had been disfigured so they could be put to work in the M’Cathian crystal mines. Those who were not captured retained their ability to fly and after the Twenty Years’ War, for a short time, they shunned the wingless, barring them from the sky-cities. It was an absolute travesty that they would abandon their brethren who had lost so much.

  Sohm’lan found Axis standoffish, brisk, and lacking humor. But as he watched the Chimera brothers interact with him, Axis grinned shyly. The brothers worked in concert to coax more smiles from Axis as if they were priceless gems. The scene was surreal. He had never seen any of the Chimera behave in such a way. They were always silent, severely serious, and radiated a deadly menace that kept even the Monticore at arm’s length. With Axis, this set of triplets were solicitous and… and Sohm’lan could not put his finger on what else. They still emanated menace, but now it seemed to act more like a shield instead of a simple state of being.