by S. E. Smith
“Who is with you?” Adalard demanded.
“First Medical Officer Jaron d’Camp, sir,” the healer replied.
“How bad is my brother?” Adalard demanded.
Arrow’s curse-filled orders telling Jaron not to say anything came through the communicator. Adalard listened with a mixture of amusement and concern until the vidcom Arrow had forgotten in his tirade slipped far enough for him to see the scorched material covering Arrow’s right side and leg.
“I’m fine. Once Jaron is finished with me, I’ll send you a report—not that I found out very much,” Arrow finally replied.
“Tilkmos, Arrow! You should have stayed in the lab. You look like you’ve been roasted by a dragon,” he growled with a shake of his head. “Jaron, make sure you take good care of my brother,” he ordered.
“I will, sir. But, to do that, he needs to cooperate,” Jaron said with a stern expression.
Arrow lifted the vidcom to block out Jaron and scowled at Adalard. “I hate healers. I’ll send my report in a few hours. This wound might take longer to heal,” he ruefully admitted.
“Take your time. I have a feeling I will be here for a while,” Adalard said before disconnecting the communication.
He sat back in his chair, lifted his drink, and swallowed the remaining contents. Who would be brazen enough to capture the King of the Valdier and attack the Ha’darra family at the same time? Ben’qumain might attempt one, but both? It wouldn’t be entirely out of character for his half-brother, but he would need a massive amount of help—which meant the network of traitors was much larger, more organized, and better funded than Adalard and his brothers had originally thought.
Not to mention that successfully capturing Zoran was no small feat. The dragon-shifters were dangerous. Adalard should know; having fought against them in the Great War.
He moodily thought about the war that had ravaged Heron Prime for over a century. The Curizan, Valdier, and Sarafin warriors were some of the most lethal beings in the universe thanks to the unique abilities given to each of their three species by the Goddess Aikaterina. They would still be at war if not for Vox d’Rojah, King of the Sarafin, and Creon Reykill, Prince of the Valdier, becoming trapped together as they tried to kill each other. Eventually, they discovered that the war had been started and perpetuated by a traitorous alliance determined to eliminate the ruling Houses on all three worlds.
In the end, a strong friendship developed between Vox, Creon, and Ha’ven that became unbreakable. Since then, Adalard and his brothers had been working tirelessly to uncover everyone involved in this subversion and bring peace back to their peoples. With Zoran Reykill’s disappearance, the fires of war were sure to be fanned again.
“I hope to Goddess that it doesn’t,” Adalard murmured to himself. “I really hate fighting those armored, dragon-shifting bastards.” He sighed, placing his empty glass on the table. He turned off his shield and motioned to the server for a refill.
Hamade Dos stood in the shadows, watching the Ha’darra Prince. His eyes glittered with rage, and he tightened his grasp on the grip of his blaster. The Curizan had easily eliminated the Bovdean assassin. It was the fool’s own fault for underestimating the skills of a Curizan prince.
“Do you want me to draw him out?” Lesher Comoros asked in a hushed voice from behind him.
“No. The Curizan already will have ordered each vessel searched. It is best for us to wait,” he instructed.
“But why?” Lesher protested with a disgruntled frown. “He is right there! A single blast between his eyes would be one step closer to ending the Ha’darra family. Ben’qumain—” His voice faded when he saw the chilling gleam in his superior’s eyes.
“Ben’qumain is an idiot who will get himself killed. If you want to sacrifice yourself for the cause, that is fine, but not when it will compromise my escape—besides, he is shielded somehow, probably with a device his twin created. I cautioned Ben’qumain that his half-brothers would not fall easily. He should have let me deal with the three of them years ago,” Hamade said.
“What about the d’Rojahs? Can they be blamed if you kill Ha’darra?” Lesher suggested, referring to the Sarafin Royals.
Irritation coursed through him. “Ha’ven Ha’darra and Vox d’Rojah have formed too close a bond to fall for that ruse again. I have someone on the inside who will deal with the d’Rojahs. Now that the royal families have united, a different approach must be taken,” Hamade replied.
Lesher frowned and stared at Adalard Ha’darra with a grim expression. Hamade ignored his lieutenant and stepped into the stream of merchants and shoppers. Lesher followed a minute later.
It wasn’t that Hamade didn’t trust Lesher with his plans; he didn’t trust anyone. His allegiance was to a power higher than that of the jealous Curizan or the power-hungry Valdier. It was time for a new power to rule the star systems. One created by a God.
No matter how long it takes, he vowed before he entered a shop to avoid the Curizan General and a group of Curizan warriors walking in his direction.
Chapter One
Curizan Warship-Rayon I: Earth’s Orbit
Seven years ago
The lift arrived at the shuttle bay, the doors opened, and Adalard almost walked into Ha’ven. Restless energy filled the entire ship and it was feeding into Adalard’s power. He urgently needed to release some of it.
Every unmated warrior was looking forward to meeting a few beautiful females on the planet below. Adalard had impressed on all of them, however, that they must be very discreet. Nothing caused trouble like fraternizing with the locals who weren’t aware aliens existed. Adalard had seen firsthand the disaster that could ensue. Given Ha’ven’s expression, he must have been thinking the same thing.
“Where are you going?” Ha’ven demanded.
Adalard grinned at his older brother and adjusted the bag he was carrying.
“Exploring. Are you and Emma ready to leave?” he replied, trying to sidestep around Ha’ven.
His brother didn’t let him pass. If anything, the scowl on Ha’ven’s face deepened. It looked like he wasn’t going to escape as quickly as he had hoped.
“Exploring? What kind of exploring? Where? How long will you be gone?” Ha’ven absentmindedly demanded.
Adalard raised an eyebrow. “Yes, exploring—down on the planet, and if I have to tell you what kind of exploring, you’ve been mated too long. You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back long before the ship is scheduled to depart,” he replied.
Ha’ven opened his mouth to protest, but instead, he sighed and gave Adalard a wry grin. “Of course. Still, I am worrying. Trouble always seems to find you, brother, no matter where we go. The closer we get to the planet, the more I wonder if it is a mistake. I keep telling myself that everything will be fine.”
“It will be fine,” Adalard reassured.
Ha’ven grimaced. “I know—I’m just distracted. I’m worried about Emma. If you insist on going to the planet, will you do me a favor? Trisha asked me to meet with Mason Andrews and Chad Morrison on Paul’s ranch to make sure everything is alright. If you can do that, it will save me time. Be sure to tell them that Paul and the women are safe and happy.”
“Yes, I can check in with them. Is there anything else?” he dryly inquired.
“No. There is only one mission for this trip as far as I’m concerned, and it isn’t for you or anyone else on this ship to break some poor human’s heart,” Ha’ven warned.
Adalard shook his head in wry amusement. “My men need a break, Ha’ven. They have been in space too long. Give them credit for knowing how to behave.”
Ha’ven scowled. “It isn’t your crew I’m worried about. Need I remind you of the barrage of messages the ship’s communications officer received in the past month alone from your many avid admirers wanting to know when you’ll return?”
“What can I say? I’m good in bed,” he declared.
Adalard chuckled at the uncomfortable expression on his brother�
��s face until Ha’ven suddenly paused and turned, his face lighting up as his blonde, petite mate walked toward them. It still amazed Adalard how far his brother had fallen—and how thankful he was that Ha’ven had found Emma. She had literally saved Ha’ven’s life—more than once.
Adalard smiled at her. She gave him a shy smile in return, her gaze hesitantly sliding over the long scar on his cheek.
“I hope you have a pleasant trip, Emma,” he said when she came to a stop next to his brother.
He fought to hide a smile when he saw Ha’ven fondly wrap his arm around Emma’s waist. Ha’ven sent Adalard a grateful nod. Emma and Ha’ven were intending to pick up her mother from the nursing home where she lived. He had to hand it to his brother for embracing the role of a family man. Personally, he would rather face a dozen assassins than deal with a mate, or worse—younglings. A shudder of distaste ran through him. He would leave the breeding to Ha’ven, the Valdier, and poor Vox. Besides, it wasn’t essential that he produce a Ha’darra heir with Ha’ven around.
“Thank you. Are you going somewhere?” she politely inquired.
He readjusted the bag on his shoulder and shrugged. “I thought I would explore a little of your planet. You never know when the information will come in handy,” he said with a grin.
“Oh. I’m afraid I can’t give you any recommendations. My parents didn’t travel much when I was young and I… the only time—” Her voice faltered.
“Adalard can find his way around,” Ha’ven quickly interjected. “He is going to Paul’s ranch. A human there can help him.”
Adalard nodded. “Part of the fun is getting lost. Who knows? I might find a female who will offer to be my guide,” he teased with a wink.
Emma’s eyes widened and she blushed. “Yes, well… uh… good luck,” she stuttered.
“Shut up. You’re embarrassing her,” Ha’ven groused.
With an affectionate smile, Adalard gave her a slight bow. “My apologies, Emma. I’d better take my leave before your mate challenges me,” he teased.
Emma giggled. “I’ve seen his bruises after he returns from the training room with you. Have fun and be careful,” she said with a grin.
“Always on the first, never on the second,” he replied with a wave of his hand.
He grinned as he walked away. It would feel good to get off the ship for a bit. He studied the shuttle bay. The Rayon I wasn’t a large ship. His twin brother, Arrow, had designed the warship for speed, maneuverability, and stealth.
“Commander Ha’darra,” a warrior called, hurrying toward him.
Adalard bit back an annoyed groan. “What is it, Quill?” he impatiently asked.
“I wanted to let you know I found a bad module on your shuttle—and this,” Quill responded, holding out a small silver cylinder.
Adalard narrowed his eyes on the tracking device. “Where did you find it?” he demanded.
“Inside the outer burner casing. Whoever installed it did a poor job. When the module burned, it shorted out the tracking device. The logs show that the module burned out on your return trip from Kardosa Spaceport last month,” Quill replied.
Adalard rolled the device in his hand before he held it out to Quill. “Keep this between us. Review the vidcom logs and run a scan to find the manufacturer of the device. I want to know who put it on my shuttle,” he instructed.
Quill bowed his head. “Yes, sir,” he replied.
“And Quill—run a scan on the Rayon I,” he added.
Quill smiled. “I’ve already started one, sir. If there are any other devices, I’ll find them,” he promised.
Adalard nodded. Quill reminded him a lot of Arrow. His younger brother by a few minutes loved his toys. So did he, the difference was his toys were usually of the soft, alive, and sexy variety while Arrow’s tended to be mechanical, hard, cold, and deadly.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Arrow hasn’t invented a new PVC with as much time as he spends in his laboratory,” he chuckled.
The thought of the Valdier’s Personal Virtual Companion software, or PVC as they called it, made him laugh. He confessed, thinking of his immense pleasure in viewing Trelon Reykill’s PVC after Trelon’s human mate, Cara, had used it to test a new communication booster she was working on. Half the known galaxy had the privilege of enjoying it as well after Cara sent it out to test her newest invention-in-progress.
“Perhaps I should reclassify human women as extremely dangerous,” he mused before dismissing the idea.
The women were crazy, annoying, and cute but not really dangerous—except for Trisha, Carmen, and Riley. Hell, even Abby Tanner-Reykill had torched his traitorous half-brother, Ben’qumain, and most human women didn’t come much gentler than Abby! Then there was Emma—sweet, delicate Emma. He paused on the platform leading into his personal shuttle and shook his head.
“Who am I kidding? They are all as dangerous as hell,” he chuckled. He couldn’t wait to meet more of them.
Chapter Two
Outside Casper, Wyoming
“Samara! Samara! Where in the hell are you?”
Rob’s loud, angry voice shattered the peaceful morning. The screen door slammed, punctuating his foul mood. A moment later, Samara heard heavy footsteps on the wooden porch.
She grimaced when Rob yelled for her again. Pursing her lips, she tightened the last bolt on the new alternator she had just installed. Closing the hood of the old Ford truck, she grabbed a stained towel from the bench and exited the mechanic’s garage.
The truck was the only thing of value Pa left her when he died three years ago. Everything else—the house, the auto repair shop on the same lot, along with their contents, and the ten acres of land surrounding them had gone to her brothers. Well, all of them except for Wilson.
Wilson didn’t get a damn thing but his freedom. He had disappeared one afternoon four years ago after a fight with their father. Personally, she thought he got the best deal of the entire family. They hadn’t heard from him since. Samara didn’t blame Wilson for wanting to escape the hellhole they called home.
As for her, she focused all of her energy on saving every penny she made working at Paul Grove’s ranch. She started working there when she was sixteen, after she got her driver’s license. Fortunately, she didn’t live too far from the ranch—twelve miles as the crow flies, but longer on the winding roads of Casper Mountain. Paul’s ranch covered thousands of acres.
Samara’s thoughts grudgingly returned to her home. It was only a matter of time before her remaining four brothers lost this repair shop. None of them had ever held a job for more than a few months before they quit or were fired. They wouldn’t even consider working on any kind of engine. They couldn’t be bothered to change the oil in their own cars, and they weren’t about to do it for someone else’s vehicle.
Her Pa, Samuel Lee-Stephens, had inherited the house and the old auto repair shop just outside of town from his dad. Pa had been a hard worker, but his luck was lousy. Every time he had come close to paying it off, he would have to borrow against it again. The last time was to pay for her mom’s medical bills.
Pa was too stubborn to sell the family’s roots here. He was born and raised in Casper and said he would die here. The sad part was he died not long after making that statement.
Her brothers hadn’t sold the property because as long as they made the minimum payment each month, they had a place to hide all the illegal shit they were doing. That was another reason Samara wanted to get out—before the Feds and local law enforcement descended and discovered what true lowlifes most of the Lee-Stephens’ men were.
She wiped her dirty hands on the stained rag and walked across the yard. She pursed her lips when she saw Rob’s disheveled appearance. His light brown hair was sticking up, his plaid shirt was hanging open to reveal the beer belly he no longer bothered to hide, and the button on his jeans was undone.
I don’t know why I made Mama that promise, she thought as a wave of disgust filled her.
For t
he hundredth time, she wished her dad had been more like Paul Grove. Maybe then she could really do something with her life. As it was, her biggest fear was ending up like her Ma—pregnant, married to the wrong man, and almost grateful when the doctor told her she had brain cancer.
Even the thought of being stuck with a man like her dad made her want to swear off men forever. Some women were destined to make bad choices when it came to men. Her Ma had and so had her grandma. Angelina Lee-Stephens said it was the curse of the women in their family.
Once again, she felt envious of Trisha Grove. Trisha had an awesome dad in the good, attentive, and loving Paul Grove. Samara’s father had been so mean that the only ones to show up for his funeral other than herself was Paul Grove—out of respect for her—and the attorney hired by Pa to redo his will after Wilson left. A week after he changed his will, Samuel Lee-Stephens died while working on an old tractor he was hoping to sell.
Her brothers did what they had always done—they played poker, got drunk, and ended up in jail. She had been half-tempted to leave them then and there, but she had promised her Ma that she would watch over them for as long as she could. It didn’t matter that they were all older than she was. It looked like that promise was about to come back and bite her in the ass again.
“What do you want?” she called out before Rob opened his mouth to yell again.
Her brother’s dark brown eyes still had a slight glaze to them. He also had a whopper of a black eye and a busted lip. She wiggled her nose with distaste when he reached into his pants and scratched his crotch.
“You got any money? Jerry and Brit need bail,” he said.
She shook her head. “Nope. My truck needed parts,” she answered.
Rob’s eyes narrowed at her obvious lie. “If they don’t show up at work in an hour, they’ll be fired. Where’s the title?” he asked.