Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings)

by Tracy St. John

  “In that case, no one would take his Dramok classification away. You would still be clanned.”

  “But what if he’s found to be a Nobek with strong Dramok characteristics? I cannot take that chance, Krijero. I will not lose Gelan.”

  Wynhod stared hard at him. In his eyes, Krijero saw the worry that came close to being fear. Nobeks rarely spoke of love for other men, preferring to let their actions in protecting clanmates speak for them. In that look, Krijero saw the full weight and terror of a man in love. The sheer agony that he could lose the one who meant the most to him.

  Krijero said in a quiet voice, “No, Wynhod. You won’t lose him, not through any actions of mine anyway.”

  Wynhod relaxed. He drew a deep breath in and then leaned over to kiss Krijero’s lips. The spontaneous, caring action warmed the Imdiko.

  The Nobek grabbed his hand and tugged. “Let’s eat.”

  He helped Krijero out of bed. They located Krijero’s clothing, which Gelan had sent out overnight to be cleaned and pressed. For once not in a state of a wrinkled mess, Krijero left the room with Wynhod. He was very aware of the hand on his lower back as the Nobek prodded him towards the well-furnished dining room.

  Gelan looked up from his seat at the polished wood table as they entered the dining space. As Krijero sniffed appreciatively at the delicious scents of food, the Dramok gave him a look filled with exasperated good humor. “Please let me do something to tame that hair before we leave for work.”

  Krijero smiled and attempted to shake his cowlick out of his face. “You can try. At least my clothes look good. Thanks for getting them laundered.”

  Gelan motioned to one of the plates on the table. “Have a seat and dig in.”

  “It smells amazing.” Krijero folded his long legs on the plush seating cushion and looked around. The table was gorgeous, possibly handmade. It didn’t look like anything manufactured in a robot-controlled factory. The seating cushions were thick and billowy, as comfortable as the bed he’d just left. An archway opened out onto the balcony, and Krijero saw the blameless blue sky outside signaling another lovely day. On the other walls of the room were vids of mountain vistas. None of them looked like the ones he was familiar with. He wondered if they were peaks Wynhod had climbed.

  He told Gelan, “You have a really nice place.”

  “Thanks. Ready to move in?”

  Krijero snorted. Since he couldn’t come up with an appropriately smart-ass reply, he picked up his grain pocket and took a bite. Damn, someone around here could cook, he decided. The teglit had been perfectly seasoned and smoked prior to hitting the grill. It was all he could do not to moan his appreciation.

  “So why did you break up with Dramok Pertak?”

  Gelan’s abrupt question along with Krijero’s former lover’s name made the Imdiko choke. As soon as he cleared his airway, he glared at his host. “Son of a bitch. Where did that come from?”

  Gelan shrugged, but his gaze was anything but casual. “Just curious. There’s a reason you don’t want to clan with anyone, so I did some digging. Your last known serious relationship – your only known relationship – ended a long time ago.”

  Wynhod swallowed a mouthful of food to ask, “What did he do to you? Was it abuse?”

  Krijero let his hair fall forward. He stared at his breakfast pocket. “No, if you must know. Why should I talk to you two about this anyway?”

  Gelan’s voice, while friendly and upbeat, still managed to be firm. “Because if you don’t, I’ll keep after it. I might even decide to bite you to get it out of you.”

  Wynhod sighed. “Just tell us what happened, Krijero. It will save us a lot of bullying and you a lot of yelling.”

  Krijero scowled and pushed his plate away. As delicious as the food smelled, his appetite was gone.

  Well, why shouldn’t he tell them about Pertak? The only reason he’d held back telling anyone was because it was so damned humiliating. Maybe if he told Gelan and Wynhod the truth, they’d finally accept his refusal to clan. What the hell, he’d gotten to have sex with them. Last night had been so intense, its memory might well last him the rest of his lonely lifetime.

  Refusing to look up at the two men, he said, “I came home one day and discovered he’d left me for another Imdiko he’d been seeing behind my back. That’s it. End of story.”

  Wynhod wasn’t buying the condensed version. “There has to be more to it than that, otherwise you wouldn’t be so devastated by it.”

  When Krijero remained stubbornly silent, the Nobek’s hand gripped his shoulder. Try as he might, Krijero couldn’t bring himself to move away from that comforting touch.

  Gelan asked, “How long were you two together? You weren’t much beyond clanning age when he left.”

  “We grew up together. Our parents were neighbors, and we were close to the same age. My first memories are of us playing together while our mothers visited each other. Until he left me, I couldn’t remember a time without Pertak being nearby.”

  They’d had over twenty years of friendship and what Krijero had thought to be love. The pain, so long buried, resurfaced. Krijero wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to hold it in.

  Gelan’s voice had gone soft. “What was his excuse for leaving you?”

  “He never gave me one. He was just – gone. He clanned the other Imdiko, and I never saw him again.”

  The silence from the other two men was so heavy and lasted so long that Krijero peeked up at them. Their expressions were thunderstruck.

  Wynhod finally recovered enough to ask, “You didn’t demand an explanation? He owed you at least that much.”

  Krijero hugged himself tighter. “I think it’s obvious why he left me. I’m a klutz, and not just physically. Because I was so clumsy as a child, others made fun of me. No one liked being around me that much. I never learned how to socialize that well. I still don’t know how to relate to people, not really. I say stuff in such a way that it sounds either insincere or so blunt it makes others mad.”

  There was an undercurrent of anger in Gelan’s otherwise controlled expression. “If Pertak was around you all that time, then he knew what was truly in your heart. He couldn’t have held any of that against you.”

  Krijero hung his head. “You’ve noticed I get so distracted that I forget to comb my hair or press my clothes. Who wants to be seen with someone who can’t even remember to groom himself? I embarrassed him.”

  Wynhod’s eyes narrowed. “He told you that?”

  “He didn’t have to.” A sense of self-loathing rose up in Krijero. He’d fucked everything up. Pertak had been right to leave him. His former lover had deserved so much better than Krijero.

  Gelan’s voice was nearly lost in a feral growl. “And that’s why you refuse to clan? Because you let a shallow asshole of a Dramok make you feel bad?”

  “Gelan, Pertak knew me better than anyone. If he couldn’t love me after almost twenty-five years, who would? There’s no point in me even trying. All that will happen is I’ll end up rejected and hurt all over again. You’ll see. Eventually, you’ll figure out what a waste of time I am and find the Imdiko you really want in your clan.”

  Gelan grabbed Krijero’s chin so hard it hurt. The Dramok yanked his head up and shoved back a handful of hair, baring Krijero to his glare. The Imdiko gasped to see Gelan’s face barely an inch from his own. He had no choice but to look the angry man in the eyes.

  He thought of his and Wynhod’s suspicions that Gelan might be a mis-classified Nobek in that moment. Certainly he looked as ferocious as any of that breed Krijero had ever seen. And the snarl of his voice sounded more animal than commander.

  “Don’t you ever let me hear you describe yourself as a waste of time, Imdiko. If you utter such words again, I will wear your ass out with my strap so you don’t sit for a week. Do you understand me?”

  Even with his heart hammering a wild tattoo in the face of Gelan’s anger, Krijero had a sense of security in the harsh grip of the man. His heart
warmed to have the Dramok ordering him with such authority. He wished he was good enough to keep such a clanmate, but he knew better.

  He also knew that for the moment, Gelan cared enough about him to make good on his threat to beat his ass without mercy. Krijero lowered his gaze, submitting to the other man’s influence.

  “Yes, Dramok. I won’t say it again.”

  “Be sure you don’t. I don’t issue empty warnings.” He released Krijero, still looking pissed off.

  Wynhod’s voice was low, but it carried every bit as much admonition. “That goes for me as well. You are a good person, Imdiko, and very much worth any time invested in you. I will be most happy to school Dramok Pertak on that fact if I ever have the displeasure of meeting him.”

  Krijero stared again at his barely-touched breakfast. He battled to not let the warm feelings of being cared about offer false hope. He needed to remember these two were much too good for the likes of awkward Imdiko Krijero.

  * * * *

  Gelan and Wynhod walked slowly from the criminal psychology department after accompanying Krijero there. Wynhod’s thoughts continued to spin around the faceless Dramok who had broken a sweet Imdiko’s heart.

  “I suppose it would be unethical to use department resources to track Dramok Pertak down.”

  Gelan glanced at him. “To commit assault? Yes, I believe the disciplinary committee would take issue with it. You’d get an unpaid leave of absence at the very least.”

  “Too bad. My knuckles really want to break a jaw. A nose. A face. All of the above. And below.”

  “I hate to see good knuckles go without, but I’m afraid they’ll just have to suffer.”

  Wynhod blew out a breath. “I can always hope to run across him committing a crime.”

  Gelan nodded. “Perhaps fate will be kind. Maybe you’ll even leave something for me to punch.”

  “You overestimate my capacity for generosity.”

  They kept walking, nearing their own department. Wynhod shook his head a little, trying to clear it. The attempt didn’t work.

  He asked his clanmate, “Do we continue with this? Krijero is pretty adamant he’s not going to clan with anyone.”

  Gelan pursed his lips. “His reluctance means committing a great deal of time to the pursuit. It’s an investment that might not pay off. The real question is, do we believe he’s worth it?”

  Wynhod thought of the night before, of Krijero in tethers, utterly helpless against the two of them. Then this morning displaying another kind of helplessness, one in which his crushed soul had gone on full display. The Nobek didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so vulnerable, so desperately in need of protection.

  He thought too of the little things Krijero did that made his heart warm in a way no Nobek would ever admit to out loud. The man’s smile. His quick mind. The way he surrendered to them. Even Krijero’s clumsiness was endearing in its way.

  Wynhod compared him to the last Imdiko he and Gelan had courted. Hell, the last two or three. They’d all been nice enough, but there was an undercurrent of avarice as well. The draw of being courted by a pair of men hailed as the heroes who’d ended Delir’s deadly reign over the territory had drawn its share of admirers. Most of the Imdikos had been all right, but his and Gelan’s growing rank and good finances had attracted their share of gold diggers.

  Not to mention younger Imdikos seemed empty-headed more often than not. It wasn’t that they were stupid; they simply didn’t have the wealth of experience age and police work had given Wynhod and Gelan. They also seemed to have a hard time understanding that men who’d just spent a double shift on a stakeout might not be up for a night of concerts or clubbing.

  Krijero not only got it, he had insight into exactly what Wynhod and Gelan faced every day on the job. He had maturity that appealed to the Nobek much more than youthful enthusiasm for fun and games.

  “There really is no comparison.”

  “What?” Gelan asked.

  Wynhod shook his head. “Krijero as our Imdiko. I think he’s worth the effort. He needs us.”

  There was so much more to it than that. Wynhod’s ruminations had only scratched the surface of what drew him to Krijero. However, that would mean getting into the softer emotions a Nobek didn’t display towards other men. He would certainly never demean Krijero by speaking such things when he was capable of demonstrating them instead.

  Gelan nodded, understanding as always. “I agree. Let’s do it.”

  Wynhod felt a sense of relief that Gelan was on board. He had a feeling their would-be Imdiko would be fighting them every step of the way. He hoped he had the patience to see it through.

  He also hoped to see the pain of betrayal erased from Krijero’s eyes. That more than anything would make the coming struggle worthwhile.

  Chapter 7

  The idyllic scenery of the lake where Krijero had insisted they take their shared vacation hinted nothing at the fierce denizens that lurked beneath the placid surface. Placid, that was, until the three men emerged from its depths dragging the biggest, most fearsome rizpah Gelan had ever seen. Wynhod coughed and spluttered as they made their way towards the shore. Despite all his noise, he wore a big smile that rivaled the mid-afternoon sun overhead.

  The rizpah was longer than they were tall, with its ugly razor tooth-filled head nearly half the length of it. It was also quite dead thanks to an accurate blow Krijero had dealt with a spear to its belly.

  They got it to shore, its black-and-gray streaked carcass a bleak spot on the silvery-blue grasses that lined the shore of the lake. They stared down at the monster, heaving for breath.

  Wynhod shook his head, finally done with expelling water from his lungs. “To think I nearly ended up in this thing’s stomach.”

  Gelan couldn’t resist teasing his clanmate. “To think an Imdiko had to save your hide.”

  They laughed, but Krijero grimaced. Gelan couldn’t imagine the man wasn’t happy with his performance just minutes ago. He was an excellent spear fisher. It had been his lightning-quick reactions that had kept the rizpah from taking a fatal bite out of Wynhod.

  The Imdiko’s words helped them figure out why he didn’t share the exhilaration they felt. “Sorry about that. All the years I’ve been coming out here, I never saw one this size. You’re a pain in the ass, Wynhod, but I’m not looking to kill you.”

  Wynhod only grinned wider and clapped a hand on Krijero’s shoulder. “Are you kidding? That was amazing. There is nothing like near-death to make you feel alive.”

  “Damned straight,” Gelan affirmed. “You’ll love zibger hunting, Krijero. I can’t wait to take you, not with an aim like yours.”

  Reassured, Krijero’s smile appeared, beaming as he finally enjoyed the results of his hunt. He shoved his wet hair back, exposing that handsome face that Gelan had gotten used to seeing over the last month. He might have been used to seeing it, but it didn’t take away how it made his heart beat a little harder when he looked at Krijero.

  Today, right now, the whole Imdiko package made Gelan’s heart race. The long, lithe body gleamed with wetness, accentuating every lean muscle in Krijero’s body. The fact that his black soaksuit just did conceal his genitals and little else made the usually reticent psych almost too beautiful to watch. It was mid-autumn here in the mountains, remaining chilled during the day and becoming downright frigid at night. Yet a wave of heat from looking at Krijero chased the cold from Gelan’s wet body. His own soaksuit, a shimmery blue pair of trunks, betrayed the start of arousal for the Dramok.

  Damn, the Imdiko made him crazy, especially looking the way he did now. It wasn’t like they’d spent the last three days of their holiday celibate either. Fucking had been the number one activity of their getaway at the nearby cabin owned by a friend of Krijero’s, with spear fishing coming in a close second.

  The Imdiko had initially been reluctant to bring Gelan and Wynhod along on his yearly retreat to the lake in the Southeast Mountain Territory, three hours away from where they
lived. No surprise there; Krijero had continued to resist their efforts to court him. Persistence had paid off however, along with a helping of guilt.

  As Gelan had explained to the Imdiko, “We rearranged our leave to coincide with yours and got screamed at in the process for the last minute change. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to switch vacations in our department? Have a heart, Krijero.”

  “I didn’t ask you to change your holiday schedule. That’s on you,” the psych had pointed out. “I don’t even know why I told you when I was off and where I was going.”

  “Because secretly you want us to go with you,” Wynhod had said. “See? I could be a psych. I’ve figured out how your mind works.”

  “You haven’t figured out shit, you thick-skulled Nobek. Why can’t you two take no for an answer?”

  They hadn’t taken no for an answer, and Krijero finally relented. He had told them two weeks before the vacation they could tag along with the warning he would do his fishing and hiking as he’d planned. If they were bored, that was their problem.

  It hadn’t been boring for one second. The little cabin nestled discreetly in an outcropping of rock, nearly invisible until one came within a few steps away. It was somewhat primitive with no lighting other than the firepit, where they had to do all their cooking as well. Spear fishing had turned out to be a fun diversion and the fucking … well, that was always good.

  Krijero drew a knife out of the sheath he had strapped to one thigh. He knelt beside his kill and set to work gutting and skinning the massive rizpah.

  “You have to dress these things right away, or their internal organs burst and poison the meat.” He worked fast and efficiently, his muscles moving in a wonderful way beneath his chill-bumped skin. Gelan drew closer to watch him, not the work he did. In his peripheral vision, he noted Wynhod doing the same thing. His Nobek’s rust-colored trunks were as tented as his own as they gazed at the Imdiko.