by Regine Abel
Releasing me with obvious reluctance, Ravik gave me a stern stare. “You return to me tonight.”
It wasn’t a request. Far from annoying me, it made me want to smile again. “Yes, yes, Magnar, I will.”
Not amused by my teasing tone, Ravik growled at me, but caressed my cheek gently. With a final warning glance at Gorav, he marched away with angry steps, shadowed by Krygor. Sighing, I hopped onto the shuttle with my security detail.
The forty-minute flight to Varrek’s estate felt like an eternity. Even working on my portable computer failed to distract me from my impatience. Although I’d put my consulting services on hold, my research labs never stopped experimenting and developing new technology based on specs I’d provided them. Over the past week, I’d been negligent in keeping up to date with the latest reports and providing the required feedback for my staff so they could pursue their efforts.
As we approached our destination, I rolled my eyes at the sight of at least another dozen of Krygor’s clansmen milling about the building. Talk about overkill. I clamped down on another wave of annoyance. This overprotectiveness was suffocating. I appreciated their intention and acknowledged that the Guldans represented a serious threat to me, not only because of my inheritance, but also as leverage against their Magnar. But this felt like a prison. I couldn’t go anywhere without an escort and couldn’t leave Ravik’s fortress without permission. That wouldn’t work in the long run.
Chasing away the somber thoughts, I turned my gaze to the one-story building made of dark stones and ash-colored wood. Tall, reinforced fences surrounded the property, including the landing pad. The drawn shutters on the tall windows all around it, the overgrown vegetation encroaching on the main path leading to the front door, and the covered solar panels on the roof offered ample indication that the place had been vacant for a while.
Interestingly enough, Varrek had refurbished an old hunter’s lodge located on the unclaimed lands at almost equal distance between the compounds belonging to Clan Leaders Hagan Lorvis and Norbek Arthol, two of the Fifteen. Despite the bordering forest a stone’s throw away from the house, Gorav assured me the place was safe. Only small prey dwelled in the vicinity; the larger creatures and predators roamed deeper in the thickest part of the forest which provided them with better camouflage.
The men watched us with undisguised curiosity as we walked up to the house. One of them approached us as we reached the staircase.
“We have secured the perimeter,” the man said to Gorav. “However, none of the old hunter access codes work on the door. “Unless you have another way to hack it, we have some armored men prepared to break down the door. However, if it comes to that, we will need you to take the female to a safe distance first as we do not know what traps the Guldan may have set up.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I intervened. “I have broken through my brother’s security before. This shouldn’t be much different.”
Ignoring his dubious look, I swiftly climbed the three steps to the front porch while activating a perimeter scan from the interface on my armband. As expected, the Braxians had missed the real threat, deactivating only the decoy detectors and alarm systems that my brother had set up to lure potential intruders into a false sense of security. Aside from the Tuureans and me, pretty much anyone else would have been fooled by it, too. Even then, I couldn’t be certain I had detected everything. I pulled a wand-like device from the tool pouch hanging against my hip, the straps running across my chest. I calibrated it to the frequency of the security devices the Braxians had missed and sent a disruptor signal on that wavelength. Within seconds, each of them turned to inactive on my scanner.
They hadn’t been a direct threat. But had they remained active, whatever defense mechanism Varrek had inside the house would have been armed upon our entrance. And that could have been lethal. I placed a magnetic descrambler on the door’s lock panel. While it would break through it, my brother liked having little surprises that would set off through the process and mess things up. Resting my palm inconspicuously next to the descrambler, I opened my senses, seeking the sparks. As each trap triggered, I pushed a disable command. Less than two minutes later, the door unlocked.
Gorav insisted on going in first. I repressed the urge to roll my eyes and gestured for him to proceed. The four other men that had traveled with us squeezed in ahead of me. I ran another scan, this time for traps.
“Stay here while we secure the house,” Gorav said.
“It’s better if I come with you since I can see all the traps on this device,” I argued, waving my forearm at him. “Like the one right over here in the wall lamp by the window.”
Gorav stared at me, surprised. He looked at the lamp, down at his armband, then back up at the lamp. “It doesn’t show on my scanner.”
“Exactly,” I said with a smirk.
He scrunched his face, somewhat disgruntled. It took nearly an hour going through the lodge, disabling traps. I didn’t understand why Varrek had so many in this single-story building. The spacious rooms included a dormitory, which had been turned into a lab, and a cold room which contained a sickeningly large quantity of Bliss, a highly addictive—and extremely deadly—recreational drug. Varrek had unleashed it on the unsuspecting population before we’d managed to shut down his operation. He’d added a wall in one corner of the common room, creating an office and work area, and then turned the large equipment and trap storage room into his bedroom.
Once reassured that everything was secured, Gorav gave the clansmen outside leave to return to their compound. Along with my four other escorts, he settled in the common room to work on some tasks on the portable computers and datapads they had brought.
While I wanted to further explore the house, for now, his computer held my interest. It took little time to hack into it, thanks to my recent experience at our family home on Guldar. Unfortunately, I soon realized there would be no quick wins. Many of the files were encrypted, each using a different algorithm. It would take days, if not weeks to unlock all of them without setting off a trap that could destroy or corrupt the entire system.
With a heavy sigh, I set to work.
Over the next week, I hacked into hundreds of files but the clients list continued to elude me. I should have been further into my investigation but too often kept getting distracted by some brilliant analysis, research assumptions, or mind blowing schematics for a new concept or prototype. Each time, my chest ached that such a genius had gone to waste, partially with my aid.
To my surprise, I stumbled on a series of unexpected messages from a male named Rik who seemed infatuated with Varrek—actually more like obsessed and borderline stalker. I felt guilty reading those private conversations, but I assuaged my conscience by justifying it as a way to get to know my brother a bit more. From what juicy tidbits I’d found, my brother had had an affair with that male but put an end to it once he became too clingy. As I understood it, he’d also been a brilliant scientist who Varrek continued to work with on various projects for a while after ending their romantic involvement. But Rik’s continued persistence to resume their affair eventually drove Varrek to put an end to their relationship, both professional and personal. I’d known my brother preferred men, but I wondered what other secrets I’d discover about him.
At last, my sister Aleina responded to the message I’d sent her on my first day at Varrek’s house. Considering the great distance from here to Xelix Prime, we couldn’t have a direct call but only recordings. My mother, my niece, and her children all made a token appearance on the video telling me how much they missed me and looked forward to my return. My throat tightened with emotion. I ached to hold them in my arms. Once more, I wondered at a life on Braxia, filled with duty, lack of privacy or freedom, in a culture utterly foreign to me, and located light years away from the family I had just been reunited with.
And yet, I was falling hard for my beast. The thought of parting with him was just as unbearable.
At least, there w
ould be some good news to be announced. However, Ravik put a damper on my enthusiasm. Delivering good news without a concrete action plan would fall flat and open the door to too many questions we might not have answers for. Over the following week, I divided my time between hacking through Varrek’s files and coordinating with Anton, Grace, and my sister to set up a solid plan that wouldn’t fix all of the Braxians’ problems, but would open the way to new opportunities while giving some clans more breathing room in the short-term. Ravik helped re-adjust a few things but mostly let me run with it.
He’d been busy successfully negotiating his own trade and service agreements with foreign dignitaries, a few of whom had come to Braxia. With no sign of further Guldan interference, and so many positive prospects for his people, Ravik’s mood had greatly improved. He was more relaxed, but still as overbearingly protective. At least, he’d consented to reduce my number of ‘babysitters’ to two whenever I went to Varrek’s house.
We’d settled into a comfortable routine; bath and breakfast together in the morning, off to our separate ways during the day, a couple of hours together—before or after last meal with the clan—where he’d make me discover the hidden beauties of Braxia, and of course, passionate nights of mind-blowing sex. Whenever possible, we’d have last meal at one of his close friends’ compounds instead, like that night at Fenton’s place. I loved those as they gave me great insights into the past that had shaped him into the man he’d become.
But not tonight.
For some silly reason, I felt nervous about revealing to the clans the various things we’d been working on to get some of them back on their feet. Tensions had further risen in some parts of Braxia as Ravik enforced the fines imposed on those caught pursuing slave labor. I wanted tonight to be a resounding success for him. All concerned clans, not usually in attendance in our Hall, would be present for last meal.
I turned to face the mirror for one final glance at myself. Over the past week, I’d taken to wearing Braxian ‘underground’ fashion, which I’d specifically commissioned from a few wives or had modified to fit my slender, less sturdy frame. Those sexy dresses were intended to retain the interest of their male or entice potential husbands. The dark colors preferred by the Braxians also matched my tastes. The females didn’t get many opportunities to flaunt those dresses in public, aside from the quarterly fair which took place in the Keltrix Market.
Established in a central location near Braxia’s space sport, it provided a one-stop shopping destination for the clans to buy and trade with each other rather than having to hop from clan to clan to explore their local markets.
The strapless, black, bandage cutout dress hugged my body like a second skin. Thigh-length, the cutouts on the sides exposed plenty of skin from the waist down. I donned the beautiful jewelry set that Vela had gifted me, the nyrian stones taking on an obsidian color to match my eyes. For a moment, I considered putting on my knee-length boots, but they made me look a little too hard, which wasn’t the goal tonight. So I settled on black stilettos with heels tall enough to almost rival those Grace loved to wear.
Ravik approached me from behind, his muscular arm wrapping around my waist as he pressed his chest against my back.
“You look stunning, my mate,” Ravik whispered.
My stomach flip-flopped at the title. This was his second time referring to me as such. I couldn’t tell if it had been deliberate or a slip of the tongue. After only three weeks together, it was too early for me to expect that kind of commitment from him, not to mention I still needed to sort out my own feelings about life by his side and so far from my family.
Bending his head, Ravik nuzzled my ear and then his lips traced the curve from my neck to my shoulder. I purred, the pressure on my markings, even through the prosthetics, had delicious shivers running down my spine.
“Come on, little bird,” Ravik said, leading me out of the room, his hand on my waist. “Our people await.”
‘Our’ people…
This time, I no longer believe it to be a slip of the tongue. After all, this morning, he had inquired about my joining him in some of his official visits to the clans. He had justified it by saying the clans would benefit from fresh eyes with a good understanding of what appealed to foreign markets. Since I’d also expressed a great deal of curiosity about some of their natural resources for my personal research and development purposes, he figured it would be better for me to see it all firsthand. Although valid, I suspected his true motives lay elsewhere. When I argued that it might be misinterpreted, he’d shrugged and said that, when it came to me, he didn’t give a shit what others thought.
I liked that.
We entered the dining hall under the heavy stares of the clansmen and in particular the Clan Leaders; Krygor’s taunting, Fenton’s amused, Pattel’s unreadable, Raylor’s subdued, Hagan’s and Yorbek’s—two of the five remaining Fifteen—full of venom, and a few such as Boros, Moktar, and Ferux—all from embattled clans—full of hope.
After the usual chest fisting greeting, Ravik indicated that the men take their seats, the females quietly slipping onto their chairs around the tables in the two side corners of the hall. I settled at my usual place at the head of the table next to him, his sons on each side of us. Ravik remained standing and gestured for the servants to fill everyone’s glass. They burst into action, swift, efficient, and unobstrusive.
“I thank you all for joining my table under such short notice,” Ravik said. “Times are difficult, more for some than others, and your constant efforts and sacrifices to provide for your clans have not gone unnoticed. Change never comes easily, but it is necessary for a greater benefit in the long term.”
“But what if we don’t survive to see that longer term?” Hagan intervened with barely disguised sarcasm.
“I haven’t granted you leave to speak, Lorvis,” Ravik said, his voice cold as ice.
Hagan flinched, properly put back in his place. Lips pinched, clearly seething, he leaned back against his chair, avoiding making eye contact with the other Clan Leaders sitting around the main table. Braxians didn’t call each other by their last name. You only did so to indicate you didn’t know them, they were of inferior rank to yours, or as a display of contempt. Ravik had intended to express the last two.
“As Lorvis so rudely pointed out,” Ravik continued, adding insult to injury, “some clans are in a more dire situation, some even fearing not making it through winter. While we are still working on long-term solutions, in the short-term, my Ravena has come through for the Jyriak Plateau clans.”
Ravik turned to me and caressed my right horn with his fingertips, pride and affection in his eyes. My cheeks heated, and my chest warmed for being thus publicly claimed and praised. He looked back towards the clan tables where Boros had perked up, looking as if he were holding his breath while waiting for Ravik to expand further.
“She has convinced the Tuureans to purchase three full cargos of stone and metals from each of the three clans of the Plateau at standard cost,” Ravik continued.
A victorious roar rose from the three clans’ tables, followed by thumping sounds as the other clansmen knocked their fists on the surface twice in quick succession in sign of approval. Although these shipments would only allow him to feed his people through the winter, Boros looked like a man who had the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. The gratitude in his eyes as they connected with mine almost choked me.
“Thanks to our continued observance of their rules regarding people’s rights and fair trade, the Galactic Council has lifted all embargo preventing its members from doing commerce with us. With the aid of Council Fenton, Council Krygor, Elder Pattel, and my heir Keran,” Ravik said, waving at the four men all seated at the left side of the table, “I have signed agreements to reopen trade in meat, grains, and leather with three human colonies that used to do business with the clans of the Nemfor Plains.”
The five clan leaders, including Hagan, expressed their satisfaction, although Hagan di
d so reluctantly.
“Other agreements are currently under discussion for the River Plains, the Woodlands Clearing, and the Dulman Range. I hope they will reach a positive conclusion in the upcoming weeks.”
More nods of approval greeted his words, the mood in the room buzzing with energy and excitement.
“But if we want to prosper and reclaim our former glory, change needs to go further,” Ravik said. A hush fell over the room as the clansmen eyed their ruler warily. “For generations, we have relied on the trade of traditional resources and the strength of our arms. It’s no longer enough. We need to develop new markets, with new resources, and create demand for new things.”
“Respectfully, Magnar,” Clan Leader Ferux said, “we have tried. Boros, Moktar, and I have turned every stone, literally. You know this. We just have nothing else.”
“Wrong,” I intervened. All eyes turned to me. “You and the two other Jyriak Plateau clans are probably sitting on Braxia’s greatest wealth.”
Snorts and chuckles met my words, the men looking at me like I’d either lost my mind or was completely clueless—or a mixture of both.
“Do you have any idea of the value of your nyrian gems?” I asked, unfazed.
The room burst out laughing, and the glimmer of hope that had lurked in the eyes of the three Jyriak Plateau clan leaders died. I stood up, casting a glance at Ravik not to intervene. He gave me a subtle nod and sat.
“And this is what happens when you let females meddle in the affairs of men,” Hagan shouted. “What do females know about business?”
“Clearly more than you,” I said, with a hard voice. “Every single word that comes out of your mouth displays your ignorance and narrow-mindedness.”
“You dare?” Hagan yelled. Jumping to his feet, face reddened with fury and muddy brown eyes throwing daggers, he looked on the verge of running towards me to bash my head in.