Page 5

Zyair

Despite the importance of our mission here, the little female pretending to be a Drolgok preyed on my mind as my brother and I stalked along the street.

“Why did you tag her?” Xandros asked in our own language.

I did not answer him. Because the truth was, I did not know why I had tagged her.

“She belongs to the Taziers.” Xandros tended to use English whenever he annoyingly stated the obvious. “She be a beautiful female. She had some”—he hesitated, searching for the right human word—“tasty curves.”

He had grasped some of the local emphasizers well, but his descriptors could use work. “You could not see her curves,” I protested. “Tasty implies something you eat.”

He grinned. “Good.”

I rubbed my face. “Try gorgeous. Or luscious.”

“Lus… cious.” He drawled the word. “I saw enough.” He made a cupping motion with his hand. “When she tripped—it was very nice.”

My brother loved females of all shapes and sizes. Or rather, he loved intercourse with them. I understood the physical desire—female companionship was in scant supply among my people. It was such an issue that clan leaders brought in alien females just to service the needs of their warriors.

Fornicating simply to satisfy the physical—no matter how overwhelming it may be—had never appealed to me. I was looking for more—and I was unlikely to ever find that more .

So, if my muscles in one arm were slightly more developed than the other, there was good reason for it.

But for just a moment, as I met the soul-piercing and bewilderingly defiant eyes of that human female, I had been consumed by a fierce longing.

It had scorched through me and robbed me of breath. I wanted to grab her, and?—

Reason reasserted itself. No. Touching her would have been worse than tagging her.

There was no way we could follow up on the tag and hunt her down.

Fucq was violent and not someone to mess with.

We would be lucky to achieve our main goal and get out of here without him or his clan figuring out our true objective.

When she had bolted, a sudden, intense, and irrational desire to claim her overtook me—firing the tracker had been almost instinctive.

That heart-shaped face, the vivid-blue eye color, the determined tilt to her chin, and the thick black pinned-up hair …

I had longed, suddenly, to see it cascading around her shoulders.

Xandros was right. That delicious curve revealed when she tripped…

Her scent, all over that scarf. My hand slipped inside my cloak to tuck the bit of bright cloth deeper into the pocket. Even thinking about it caused my heart to accelerate.

Enough. We had a mission to complete, and this was not helping. What we were doing was risky enough without a distraction, beautiful as she may be.

“Carrot?”

I very nearly tripped over the absurd Vrep. He must be desperate indeed, to pander fruit to Drakes. His eyestalks twitched as his tentacle waved the item in question .

“Now we know where she got the banana,” Xandros stated as his eyes tracked the rather bruised yellow item that most definitely was not a carrot. He dug into his pocket, and tossed the little alien a coin, before accepting the fruit.

We sidestepped around the Vrep, and Xandros smacked contentedly as we resumed our trek. Another block, and we ducked into another alley.

Skulking around in back alleys was hardly an occupation for warriors. Xandros cast me a questioning look, but I did not enlighten him as to my thoughts. He knew, as well as I, that it had been some time since the majority of our people had marched to any honorable code.

Most across the universe would call us oppressors. They were right. At one time, we had been uncontested throughout the realms. Now, only our fierce ability to fight and our long lifespans were keeping us near the top of the cosmic hierarchy.

Not that many of the worlds we had conquered would cry about our fall from power—and Earth was only the latest in a long line of such. With any luck, they would fare better than most…

If our plans worked out, they were certainly more important than the others. Vital, really, if my kind was to survive.

The shadows began to merge as night approached. This meeting was scheduled for earlier than I liked—full darkness would have been preferable. With our size, we could not blend with the local Drolgoks and humans. The best we could hope for was to be mistaken for visiting non-clan Drakes.

We were supposed to be appearing to shop, but unlike Xandros, I was not that good at pretending to enjoy myself.

My brother leaned close. “So far, so okay,” muttered Xandros, tossing the banana peel into a debris-laden corner. “Although I would have liked to claim that female.”

Clearly, he was also having a hard time wiping her from his memory. As Xandros regularly visited the female courtesans, he should not be having the same intensity issues I was .

“I want to know why she wore a fake eartag,” I acknowledged. It was another oddity, although not unheard of. I supposed if I were human and female, I might try to evade the regulations. “Nevertheless, we have matters of more importance.”

We reached an intersection with a major thoroughfare, and Xandros glanced across it to where two more large figures stalked along the parallel walkway.

The Drakes had their hoods down, proudly displaying the razor cheekbones and black hair so prevalent in the Tazier Clan.

I tensed, but they did not even glance our way.

As we traveled along, I noticed that there were few Drakes among the humans, Drolgoks, and other species. Most of our kind preferred to live and party with their clans.

As if following my thoughts, Xandros twisted to stare at the Tazier’s residential towers, which had been built in the very heart of the city. “They are taller than those of the clans’ in Montreal. Look.”

“Do not look. I doubt the Taziers spend a lot of time gawking.”

He obediently pulled his gaze away. They were worthy of gawk—tall enough to be visible from most of the downtown section of the city, and built right where two rivers joined.

While Xandros tried to eye the towers without looking like he was doing so, I kept a cautious eye on the Drakes. I breathed easier when they vanished into a store that sold liquor. The local human bouncer rapidly backed away to let them in.

“Do not suppose we can stop to sample? I heard this place has a great selection of local brews,” Xandros muttered. He was a mutterer when he was on edge. I tended to go silent. The third member of our triad, Rhodes—he would just become even more dangerous.

My brother didn’t expect an answer. We worked seamlessly together as a team, which in this case was useful, as we were not here with any kind of permission.

Drakes did cross into other clan’s territories, but it was customary to notify the local enforcers of entry.

Considering our mission, I preferred to operate covertly.

This was the fourth city we had entered into in five days. So far, we had been successful .

Xandros’s hood turned as he scanned the darkening street. His fingers tapped against his massive thigh with every stride. “Rhodes is already there. Of that, I am sure.”

Splitting up our triad of brothers had worked well every place we had been. Triplets had always been a Raptor Clan thing—twins or even singles were more the norm for the other clans.

Back when there had been females to have children.

Although Raptor was a shattered remnant of what it had once been, our clan’s past efforts to push radical new policies had not been forgotten by the other clans. It was best that the resident overlords not know we were here. Slipping into their territories as a duo was less risky.

Therefore, Rhodes took a different route to the meetings. My left side felt exposed as Xandros and I prowled along the walk. I pulled out my datapad and checked for a message—just as one popped up on the screen.

We were not exactly telepathic, but that kind of thing happened all the time between the three of us.

The message was brief, and written in Drakonian. “Checkpoint achieved.”

Xandros would have typed in English, “Where are you?” His restless and slightly nervy energy while on a mission was the reason I had kept him with me, while sending Rhodes off on his own. Rhodes always kept his focus. Always.

But even he had been edgy when we hid our landhopper and slipped into Winnipeg. Because the risks grew with each meeting, and rumors were already spreading that something big was transpiring. If they reached the clan leaders…

So my fingers typed out a message to Rhodes in our native language. “Almost there. Keep eyes open.”

I imagined his dark auburn brows drawing low as he stated the obvious. “Always.”

Texting may be limiting, but comm communications were too easily intercepted. I pocketed the small datapad as we diverted off the main thoroughfare, and down an alley.

A few minutes of weaving through back lanes later, we rounded a corner. By now, the only lights were dim bulbs in tiny fixtures over delivery access doorways. Drake eyes were sharp, so I did not flinch when Rhodes moved out of one of them.

“All clear?” I asked.

“So far,” he rumbled in his deep voice. To Rhodes, trust was for those willing to die.

I did not need to see it to know that Xandros was rolling his eyes. He was the complete opposite of our relatively silent, dark brother—his fiery red hair seemed to complement his emotive personality. Fortunately, he swung to optimism rather than pessimism—most of the time.

It was good. If I had to manage two of Rhodes, I might view life through far too dark a lens.

Our intense brother dropped into place on my left. Life immediately felt more balanced, and we headed deeper into the alley.

They were watching for us. A doorway opened as we approached it. Two humans—large by their standards—stepped aside and gestured us in.