Markon's Claim: A SciFi Shifter Romance (The Last Alphas of Thracos Book 2)

by Marina Maddix

  I cleared my throat loudly. Natalie jumped and whipped around, her covering shifting just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the soft curve of her hip before it fell back into place.

  “Markon, you startled me,” she breathed, quickly turning back to the piece of equipment. She bent low and pressed her eyes to two round cylinders. “Nope, that’s not it either. Though I think it must be in the same family. It did something odd at the end before it turned black like all the rest.”

  “What did you see?” Jorek asked, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

  “Natalie,” I said, stepping into the hut, hoping my superior size would intimidate Jorek. “I brought these for you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, light blooming in her eyes. “More samples?”

  “Uh, no. I just thought you’d like them.” A pit formed in my stomach at the disappointment that washed over her face as she took them from me.

  “Oh.” She grabbed a wooden mug half-full of water, shoved the stems in it and set it on a small shelf above her worktable. “Thanks.”

  I stood there flabbergasted as she turned back to Jorek and started explaining what she saw in terms I didn’t understand. She acted as if last night meant nothing to her. I knew she’d felt confused but I also knew deep in my soul that she wanted me. But now she seemed to not care that I was there at all.

  My bruised ego fluttered with hope when she turned back to me, her blue eyes latching onto mine.

  “Was there anything else?”

  15

  Natalie

  “Dammit!” I cursed, pounding my fist on the table and nearly tipping over the flowers Markon had brought me earlier. “That was the last of our samples.”

  Jorek winced and shrank away from me. Several Warg women from the Valley tribe had told me he was a competent fighter in practice, but he shied away from actual battles. As the tribe’s only scientist, he was more valuable in the lab than the battlefield anyway. But now I wondered if he’d gone down that path so he could have a reasonable excuse not to fight. Then I remembered how he’d backed away when Strabo tried to attack me.

  How was I ever attracted to him in the first place?

  Because of his mind. I couldn’t deny that. I truly enjoyed connecting with him on an intellectual level. But the rest of him…

  Sure, he was handsome, and when he remembered to comb his hair, he was downright sexy. But my exposure to men — real men, not those pasty Terrans back at the Center — had been limited. I didn’t know any better. I thought my attraction to Jorek’s intellect was the same as physical attraction.

  Until I met Markon, I didn’t have a clue.

  Just thinking about him set my nerves to fluttering. He’d done unbelievably delicious things to my body last night, and we hadn’t even had sex! But when Jorek interrupted us, confusion set in. I couldn’t just forget what his brother had done, yet my instincts told me that he was being truthful about not being in on it.

  Lying alone on my little cot at the back of the lab hut, I’d slept fitfully all night, in and out of restless dreams I couldn’t remember when the thin light of dawn touched the darkness. I was literally losing sleep over this situation, when I needed to have all my mental faculties running at full capacity.

  Right then and there, as I stretched and my stomach grumbled for some reet cakes, I’d decided to put Markon out of my mind entirely — at least the intense attraction I had for him. I had years of practice compartmentalizing my emotions, and right now I had more important things to worry about than which man was better for me, Jorek or Markon.

  As I watched Jorek collect all the used samples, carefully avoiding eye contact with me, relief seeped into my heart. I had no idea if Markon could be a suitable mate for me, or if I even wanted a mate at all, but I knew without a speck of doubt that Jorek wasn’t it. He was my friend and, for lack of a better term, coworker. Together, we would find the cure, but that was as far as our relationship could ever go.

  “Bandrin,” I called, poking my head out the door in search of the shaman. He scurried around the corner, a hopeful smile lighting up his face.

  “Did you find it?” he asked. “Did you discover the missing ingredient?”

  “No. Are you sure there aren’t any other plants we haven’t tested?”

  Bandrin quickly inventoried the used samples and took a long, lingering look around the hut. There was no one more knowledgeable about the flora on this side of the forest. If anyone would know, he would. At his slow headshake, I slumped into my chair next to Jorek.

  “What now?”

  We all sat in grim silence for a moment, trying to figure out our next move.

  “Oh!” Bandrin exclaimed, jumping up. He pulled down a clump of dried leaves that had been hanging in the rafters.

  “What? What is it?” I asked.

  The funny little man ignored me and ran out of the hut, leaving Jorek and me gaping at each other.

  We didn’t even have time to say ‘What the hell was that about?’ before Bandrin came scurrying back, the bunch of leaves smoking.

  “Had to light it on the communal fire,” he panted, sporting that wild-eyed grin of his. If I hadn’t known he was harmless, I might have been frightened of him.

  “What is it?” Jorek asked.

  He waved it around the hut as he explained. “You tested it already, remember? It’s an herb that grows only in one small patch of the forest. It’s said to ward off evil spirits and prankster ancestors, and trigger creativity and inspiration.”

  I batted his arm away when he swirled it around my head. The smoke smelled awful, acrid and almost oily. When Bandrin started chanting, I closed my eyes in defeat. If we were going to have to resort to magic and superstition, we were doomed.

  The entire species was doomed.

  The pang of anxiety sitting low in my belly slowly melted away as I listened to Bandrin perform his silly ceremony. After a while, it took a mountain of effort to lift my heavy eyelids. When I finally managed the feat, I couldn’t quite comprehend what I was seeing.

  Bandrin jumped high, crouched low, hummed and chanted, and twirled in circles, all the while waving the smoking leaves around the hut. It all suddenly seemed so…funny. I chuckled softly. Then Jorek chuckled. Soon, we were bent over, laughing hysterically. No idea why, didn’t care.

  “Sounds like you’re all having fun in here,” said a lilting, feminine voice.

  I looked up and, through my tears, I could barely make out Teema in the doorway. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to catch my breath.

  “Hey, Teema,” I giggled. “Bandrin was just putting on a show for us.”

  She sniffed the air and scowled. “Bandrin! You know you shouldn’t burn butterweed with people in the room.”

  Bandrin leaned against a wall, a placid smile on his round face. “I was performing a ritual, Teema.”

  Teema shook her head. “You two should get out into the fresh air for a bit. May the Elders show mercy that you don’t need to shift, Jorek, because it will take a few hours for the effect to wear off.”

  He shrugged and smiled, but he followed us out of the hut. “I think I’ll go watch the fire.”

  “Ready for dinner?” Teema asked after Jorek wandered off..

  “Dinner? Oh, right. You invited me to speak with the tribe’s females. Yes, suddenly I’m very hungry.”

  Teema laughed. “That’s the butterweed. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, but Bandrin should have known better. It’s an intoxicant that prevents Wargs from shifting. Good for subduing captives, but risky if you need to shift unexpectedly. That’s why Thrane banned it for recreational use.”

  I followed her toward the koshu, my head spinning and a goofy grin plastered on my face. “I thought all the women moved out of there.”

  “We did, but this seemed like the best place for our dinner.”

  She ushered me in and introduced me to about a dozen women. Little boys and a handful of girls played all around them. I’d never been very good wi
th kids, but an affectionate warmth welled up inside me. They were all so adorable. I wondered what my kids would look like. Would they have my blonde hair and Markon’s bright green eyes?

  I blushed at my own foolish thoughts as I sat down with the others in a circle. They passed bowls of steaming food around until we all had one. In unison, they tipped their heads back, closed their eyes and recited the same prayer.

  “May the Great Elders of the Warg bless this nourishment.”

  One mouthful of the stew, and I was a goner. Somewhere in the back of my head, I was fascinated at the way I devoured the meal, but a more primal and dominant part of me only wanted more. I finished my bowl in about ten seconds and looked up expectantly, wondering how I could get another serving.

  Everyone stared at me like I was some kind of animal, their food barely touched.

  “Bandrin burned butterweed in their hut,” Teema explained, and all the women nodded and smiled.

  The woman next to me handed me her untouched bowl and patted my knee. With great effort, I managed to eat more slowly, and tried to focus on each person who spoke. That butterweed really got me wacky, but I could feel its grip easing as the minutes passed.

  “So Natalie,” asked the woman sitting across from me. Chayma, if my fuzzy mind remembered correctly. “We’ve all heard stories of the Valley tribe, but you’ve actually lived there. Are they really as sadistic and cruel as we’ve all heard?”

  I blinked for a second, trying to figure out what she meant. Then I nearly spit out a mouthful of stew.

  “No, no, no. You have it all wrong. The Valley Warg are wonderful. They took my sisters and me in after we crashed the shuttle and escaped. They treated us like family. They’re all so kind and generous. They’re really just like all of you.”

  This caused a bit of a stir with the women as they whispered to each other, no doubt wondering if I was lying, delusional or still high on butterweed. Teema shushed them.

  “Natalie, we’d love to hear about your research,” she said.

  The fog in my brain was clearing but I still had to think for a minute how to explain it to laymen. Laywomen? Laywarg?

  Maybe I’m still stoned.

  “In simple terms, we’ve isolated a protein in reet that we believe is essential to fertility in Wargs, but it alone doesn’t guarantee girl babies. Our theory is that another component — we think it’s a plant — when mixed with the reet protein, will somehow influence gender at conception. Make sense?”

  A few nodded, but I could tell from their confused faces that they didn’t really understand.

  “Why aren’t you a Warg?” asked a young girl peeking around Chayma’s shoulder.

  “Because I haven’t had the bite that will transform me yet, Krindi.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to find that component I was just talking about first.”

  “Why?”

  Inquisitive little cherub. “Because we want more adorable little girls like you.”

  She grinned. “Want some water?”

  Now that she mentioned it, I realized I was desperately parched. “Sure.”

  Very carefully and deliberately, she poured pale brown liquid from a dried gourd into a cup. When she handed it to me, I couldn’t bring myself to drink it. I caught Teema’s embarrassed gaze.

  “This is water?”

  She grimaced. “I’m afraid so. We used to fetch the water from the nearby stream ourselves. But after the tragedy, the men started to collect it.”

  “They can’t be bothered to walk the extra distance to the spot where it runs clear,” Chayma said, shaking her head. “So they bring back this filth. We boil it three times but occasionally someone still gets sick.”

  Krindi stood next to me, her previously pouting bottom lip now trembling as if she’d done something wrong. I gave her a smile and pulled her into a hug.

  “Thank you, Krindi. Now why don’t you go play.”

  She searched my eyes to make sure I wasn’t mad at her and then scampered off to a group of boys. The women started discussing tribe news, their voices blending into a pleasant hum. I leaned back, closed my eyes and just listened to the sounds of Warg life. Wooden dishes clacked, the small cooking fire crackled, children’s voices rose in song.

  The boys love girls

  The girls love curls

  The cabras bleat

  About the reet

  Now it’s time to eat

  Eat! Eat! Eat!

  Thoughts whispered through my foggy brain like a light breeze. The seed of an idea took root, but I couldn’t really trust myself at the moment. I tucked it away to think about after my head cleared, and hummed along lazily with the simple tune, totally and completely relaxed.

  16

  Markon

  I woke before dawn with a sour taste in my mouth. Another night of fitful sleep, wondering what, if anything, was going on between Natalie and Jorek. Seeing them huddled so close together had nettled me, naturally, but the way she’d dismissed me when I gave her the flowers cut me to the quick. Not just as alpha of the Hill tribe but as a man.

  Staring through the darkness at the roof, I waited for light to filter into the hut, but I itched with tension. My beast yearned to be set loose, and a run through the forest might work off the nervous energy. I was half-worried I’d end up in Jorek’s hut, tearing him limb from limb, but lying there thinking about her any longer wasn’t an option.

  Might as well touch base with Solan while I was at it. I scratched out a quick note for him to meet me at the river, tied it to the leg of my fastest message jay and watched it disappear into the darkness of the pre-dawn forest.

  Releasing my beast satisfied the itch I’d been resisting since yesterday. The transformation felt like a good stretch after a long, restful sleep. My fingers melded into giant paws tipped with long claws. I could feel my canines lengthen as my mouth and nose stretched into a thick muzzle. My back tickled as a ridge popped through fur and muscle. With a roll of my shoulders, I dropped to all fours and shook until the last thing moving was my long, full tail.

  As I suspected it would, my beast’s slavering muzzle pointed toward the tiny hut Jorek slept in with a low snarl, but I steered it toward the woods. It grumbled but didn’t put up much fuss. I pushed harder and faster, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety brewing inside me.

  By the time the river that separated our territories came into view, I was no closer to understanding what Natalie wanted, but the lather coating my fur felt refreshing. I pulled my beast back in, and sat on a log next to the river and waited for Solan.

  “What took you so long, Markon?” said a voice behind me.

  “Funny,” I laughed, as Solan sat next to me. “I thought I’d beat you.”

  “A Hill Warg beat the alpha of the Valley tribe? Never!”

  Our relationship had evolved from wary informants to actual friends, at least for my part. Solan’s good-natured teasing reminded me of how my brother used to taunt me. A stab of guilt and regret pierced my heart. I missed Thrane.

  “So,” he said, settling himself next to me, “what’s up?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that Natalie and Jorek are alive and well.”

  He nodded. “Glad to hear it. I figured I would have heard if your tribe had torn them to shreds. Any progress?”

  “Last I heard, they found something close to what they’re looking for but it still failed.”

  “Last you heard?”

  I shrugged, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

  “Mmm,” he mused.

  “Any news on the Terrans’ progress through the forest?”

  He took his time answering me, his curious stare burning into the side of my face. “Slow but steady. They’re still quite a ways off, but they have come closer. We’ll need to integrate the tribes soon so we can have time to prepare for an attack.”

  “My people are warming to the idea. I have the council on my side, and most of the village. Only a few troublemakers tryi
ng to stir up old resentments.”

  Solan slapped me on the back. “I knew you had it in you, Markon. Thrane was…is a terrific warrior but leading a tribe isn’t always about battles.”

  I couldn’t help the smile of pride that touched my lips. When Thrane left, I wasn’t so sure about my abilities. He had such a strong personality, not to mention unwavering beliefs and impossible standards that I knew I’d never be able to lead the way he did. But maybe I didn’t have to. Things seemed to be going well in the village. Really well, in fact. Brokering the merge would validate me in ways I’d never dreamed.

  “Speaking of battles,” I said, “I want to run something past you. Some of our females are insisting on being trained for fighting. Their argument is that, traditionally, women fought alongside their men.”

  Solan frowned. “But we have so few, we can’t possibly put them at risk.”

  “That’s what I said. But they’re arguing — actually, Natalie started it all — that we’d need every able-bodied fighter we could find, which is true. They also pointed out that if all the men are killed in battle, all the females on Thracos couldn’t keep the tribe going.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know, Markon. I can’t even imagine allowing Sienna to enter into battle. I’ll have to think about it, maybe talk to our council for their wisdom.”

  “Our council members are firmly opposed. They wouldn’t like it very much if I went against their wishes, and their support for the merge is vital. If I offend them, they might turn people against the plan. But the women do have a point.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the river swirl by and listening to the sounds of the forest. We both had keen hearing, even with our beasts in their hiding places, and nothing dangerous lurked nearby. The odd crackle of leaves or the snap of twigs, but the really vicious creatures had very specific tells.