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I can’t exactly describe what it’s like to have a mate who could ask me to cut my wings off and I’d gladly do it, because I’ve never had a mate.

Until Kerra. The tiny female hoo-man I’d do anything…

absolutely anything for. It means I can’t stop growling as I stride through my ship to the control room.

Warriors scatter from me. I’m dimly aware that, although I am not shifting, I am larger than I was.

My tail is somehow even more present, although the nevving thing hasn’t shifted back since we came through the wormhole.

The control room is busy, which somewhat assuages the simmering anger inside me. I release as much smoke as I can from my lungs in an effort to have some control.

The mating gland responds by pumping yet more mix into my veins. I simply cannot win.

“Any further anomalies reported?” I fire at the warrior on the comm.

“Not from our patrols or any of the supply ships,” he says.

I debate whether this is good or bad, given it’s a mixture of both. “Keep looking. Anything appears, I want to know about it.”

I turn to my missions director. “I need a cohort of warriors to return to the area where the females were found. They should search the area for any other devices or evidence of who planted it.”

“What about the escape pod, Lord?” he asks.

“It’s in Dalox’s sector. I won’t risk war by retrieving it.”

Things are on a dagger edge as it is with the other warlords.

“Lord Darax, there is a comm from Lord Dexx.”

The mysterious nevver finally puts in an appearance.

I hold out my hand for the vid-screen, and he gives it to me.

Dexx looks particularly dirty, as if he’s been digging, which, given his sector contains our only source of star cruiser fuel, is entirely possible.

“Dalox says you have females,” he growls, his one good eye glaring at me, the other obscured by the scar which runs over his face.

“Dalox is mistaken. I have one female, from a species called hoo-man, and she is my mate,” I respond with a snarl.

Dexx twists his face, turning away from the comm, I hear the voice of one of his crew.

“There was an escape pod in his sector and our sensors show DNA different to Sarkarnii.”

“Since when did you have permission to scan my ship or violate the accords of Vorostor Central?” I respond, attempting to keep my anger in check.

Because I’m a nova-second from shifting and flying into his sector to take off his head for even thinking about Kerra.

“Since you decided to keep the compatible females a secret, Darax,” Dexx snarls.

“We have prisoners from our recent supply runs. That is the DNA you have detected,” I lie with a snarl. “The female here belongs to me. If you make any attempt to get to her, you will feel my wrath.”

“So be it,” Dexx says, looking away from the comm before turning back and licking his lips. “If that is how you choose to play.”

He terminates the comm. I fling the vid screen across the control room where it buries itself into a console.

“Get that fixed,” I rasp at my missions director.

“Yes, Lord Darax,” he responds without a flicker.

My crew are the best trained of any Sarkarnii warlord. They are rewarded well for their efforts, and we live well.

They even get time in the zone, on occasion, even if it means injuries like the ones my warrior sustained during the meeting. Fortunately, Sarkarnii heal well and fast.

Most of the time.

I know where I need to go, and it’s the one place I nearly always avoid. The warriors I charge to look after my brother keep themselves to themselves. An elite team I trust with my life.

And his.

Every atom of my body wants to be with Kerra. From my mating gland to the tip of my tail, the tip which chose to invade her sweet, tight little ring and make her gasp my name in pleasure.

Nev it! No wonder Sarkarnii go mad from the rut! All I want to do is be buried in her. Anything else seems like a half life.

“How is he this nova-day?” I ask as I reach the quiet, secluded section of the ship, the one which is out of bounds for most. Drex and Dkeen get to their feet from the table they’ve been sharing.

Drex slams his fist over his chest.

“Lord Darax,” he says. “Not so good these past few nova-days, but he has calmed.”

“You didn’t need to use the paraxio?” I ask, my chest tightening.

“Not this time,” Dkeen replies, tapping the box next to him. “He doesn’t give away much, but he knows how much he can get away with.”

I try not to smile. This is Deus all over.

“Can I go in?”

“Keep back from the forcefield, Lord,” Drex says, placing his palm over the entrance controls. “Like I said, he’s calmed down, but he has been unpredictable of late.”

The door slides open, and the stench of both cleansing fluid and something fouler hits me.

“We haven’t been able to get him to bathe recently,” Dkeen says apologetically. “And we had to drain his aquium because he was doing the unspeakable in it.”

It’s all part of the madness, I know, but it still chills me.

“Fine. Leave us,” I say, stepping across the threshold to a low, dangerous growl, unlike any a Sarkarnii makes.

The cell, such as it is, a set of hastily repurposed quarters, all the bulkheads removed to make it as safe as possible, is in disarray.

“Brother mine,” Deus rasps, unfolding himself in his half Sarkarnii form. “You have taken a mate.”

“I have.”

“Then I must kill her.”