Chapter 2

2

Hot water cascaded over his body, washing away the last traces of sleep and silencing the part of him that still wanted to go back to bed. Not that he needed the rest. Torren, like every other Vardarian in existence, was born with nanotech. The micro-machines optimized his body in every way imaginable, including metabolism, immunity, and how much sleep he needed. Despite all that, he still liked to sleep in as long as possible.

With a groan, he stretched his arms over his head and extended his wings so they reached from wall to wall. Space was a luxury he'd gone without for decades. It was one of the many things he loved about their new life in Haven. For the first time since leaving his parents' estates so many years ago, he had the two things he'd missed: space and privacy.

Thoughts of what he had now led to memories of his former life. His mind drifted as he recalled cramped bunks, stale air, and the constant buzz and bump of energy that only happened when too many people were crammed into a too-small space.

Sounds and scents came back to him. The too loud laughter that came right before a battle. The crackle and snap of a fresh ammo pack slammed into place. Copper in the air as a friend bled out. The screams of a stranger begging for someone to stop the pain. The gut-punch wallop of an explosion going off at close range.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn't in the shower anymore. He was trapped in a nightmare. He tried to move, to run, to fight, but all he could do was stand in the middle of a murky landscape as a torrent of hot blood flowed over him.

He started to scream, and it flooded his mouth. He choked, spat, and finally sucked in a lungful of air.

"It's not real!" he reminded himself. "Snap out of it. You're good. It's all good."

He muttered reassurances, one hand pressed against the smooth tiles along the nearest wall as he fought to ground himself. He went through one of the exercises he'd read about, taking each breath with purpose and holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. Three breaths, and he was calm enough to start cataloging sensations: the coolness of the tile beneath his hand, the sound of water pattering against the tile.

A few more deep breaths, and he found his center. Much better.

His newly established calm shattered when Zanyr's voice sounded in his head . "Move your scaly ass or you'll be late. Again. Director Firt will string you up by your wings if you're late on the first day of the semester."

"Chip, turn off the shower and activate the drying sequence."

The system chimed in acknowledgment. A moment later, warm air buffeted him from all sides.

Torren sped the process along by toweling himself off as he replied to his friend and blood-brother. "I'll be down shortly. I'm moving slowly this morning."

The internal comm link buzzed as Zanyr laughed. "You move slowly every qarfing morning. If you're not here quick, I'm eating your breakfast. I've already had mine."

"You're done already because you bolt your food with all the manners and restraint of a starving gharshtu. You probably didn't even taste your meal."

The banter helped to calm him, the same way it had when they'd done it during countless missions.

Had his anrik guessed Torren was having an episode? Probably not, but he was grateful for the distraction, anyway.

"My meal was delicious, thank you. Yours looks good too. Better hurry…"

A quick check of the time told him he really did need to get going. He jogged back to his bedroom to grab the clothes he'd laid out last night.

Dark pants, a well-tailored but simple tunic, and comfortable shoes. It wasn't much different from what he wore in his last career, only now he didn't need body armor or a half-dozen weapons to do his job.

With a grin, he scooped up his clothes and hurried back to the landing. Their bedrooms were on the second floor with a large open area that allowed anyone in a hurry to fly down to the main floor instead of taking the stairs.

The moment he took flight, Torren grinned. This was one of the advantages of living outside of the colony. They'd been allowed to build a home larger than those in town, with tall ceilings and wide-open spaces that flowed into each other, making it possible to fly from one side of the house to the other.

He touched down in the middle of the main living area and strode toward the kitchen, the smell of food making his stomach rumble.

"Took you long enough, I was…" Zanyr turned around, saw Torren, and scowled, baring his teeth enough to show his fangs.

To anyone who didn't know him, Zan probably looked terrifying. Torren knew him too well to worry, though. The only time he worried was when his anrik went quiet.

" Qarf ! Why are you naked? It's in the rules, Vex. No nudity around the food."

Torren ignored his friend's bluster and went straight to the plate of food waiting on the counter. "Aren't you the one always claiming that rules were made to be broken?"

"Not this rule. We signed a contract and everything. House rules are to be respected." He gestured in Torren's general direction. "Now I'm nauseated and deeply regretting the sausages I had for breakfast. Put on some fraxxing clothes already."

"For a male who once went into a firefight naked, you're surprisingly uptight about nudity."

"That was for a bet. Plus, I was the only one naked. I'm gorgeous." He gestured to himself. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're delusional." Torren set his plate on the table and then took a moment to get dressed before eating. In truth, he knew his blood-brother was right. Neither of them had trouble attracting female attention, but Zanyr was the one they noticed first.

That hadn't changed since they'd come to Haven. Not that either of them had accepted any offers for company. They wanted something more than a temporary arrangement. They wanted a mate. Their mate. The one female in the galaxy they were destined for.

"What?" Zanyr asked. "No comeback? You're admitting I'm better looking?"

"I wouldn't go that far. You're not bad-looking. For a copper-back." He dropped the insult so casually it took a second for Zanyr to register he'd been disparaged.

"Asshole," he snapped, but he smiled as he said it. "I'll have you know that one of the new human females likes my coloring. She says it makes me distinctive."

The reddish cast to Zanyr's skin was the result of the hours he spent in the sun. Back in the empire, it would mark him as a laborer, beneath the notice of the upper classes. Attitudes like that were a large part of the reason Torren had left home as soon as he was of age. He'd been more than happy to put as many light years between him, his controlling family members, and his home system as possible.

"There's no accounting for human tastes. But out of curiosity, which one was it?"

"Nathalie, or something like that. She and a few of the others were at the market, trying to figure out what a yakan was and how to cook it. The vendor's translator was glitching, so I stepped in to help before they tried to boil the damned things and they exploded."

Torren snorted. "Bet they didn't cover that in their introductory courses."

"They should."

They both lapsed into silence while Torren tucked into his meal. When he was finished, he pushed the plate away and nodded to his friend. "Thanks for making breakfast. I was on schedule this morning until…" He trailed off and hoped Zanyr would understand.

He did.

"I figured. You were yelling in your sleep last night, too. Bad nights usually mean rough mornings for you."

"Sorry if I woke you." He'd been shouting? Torren couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad sign that he didn't remember anything about it.

"You didn't. I was already awake."

Which meant Zanyr had a rough night, too. They shared a look that spoke more than words ever could, and then Torren got to his feet. "You made breakfast. I'll take care of dinner."

"Deal. And tonight, we're going flying. Been too long since we've raced the winds."

"Good idea. Been a few weeks since we both had a bad night. Think there will ever come a time we don't think about the past anymore?"

"Sure." Zanyr didn't sound convinced. "It will probably happen right after we find our mahaya . Maybe we'll even manage to win our money back from Yardan the same day. He can't win every time we play cards."

"Sure he can. He cheats. Spymasters are not to be trusted."

"But he's on our side."

Zanyr snorted. "Not when it comes to cards."

It took him half a minute to clear his dishes and wash his hands. "See you tonight." He extended his arm, his hand turned so that the scar on the back of his wrist was visible.

They crossed wrists, pressing their scars, the mark of their blood-bond, together.

"Fair winds and clear skies," Zanyr said.

"Same to you, brother. We'll get through it." How many times had they said that to each other? Probably a thousand or more.

"We always do."

With that, Torren hurried off. If the winds were right, he'd arrive on time and Saska would have nothing to complain about… but when was his luck that good?

For once, the winds were perfect. He arrived almost two minutes faster than usual. That was more than enough time for him to get to his classroom, and thanks to good planning and some time spent at the school last night, he had nothing left to do but show up and teach.

Students of every age lingered outside, all of them loath to enter the building and begin the first day of school. Some of them cheered as he touched down, while others stared in surprise. Torren was well aware of his reputation among the younglings. According to Director Firt, they viewed him with a mixture of respect and admiration combined with a hint of fear. As far as he was concerned, that was the ideal balance.

He spotted the director in the courtyard and turned toward her, raising his wings in a shrug. He wasn't late, and that was all that mattered.

The wind shifted at that moment, ruffling his hair and making it necessary to tug at the bottom of his tunic so it fell properly. The director was a stickler for two things—punctuality and professionalism. He could get away with lateness from time to time, but only if he looked and acted as she deemed proper.

The female had missed her calling. She should be running a military camp, not a school for younglings. Then again, given her commanding air and acid tongue, perhaps she had been in the military at some point. That would explain a lot.

His musings slammed to an ungainly halt as he caught a new scent on the wind. Hunger tore through him, as if he hadn't eaten in days. What the fraxx ?

That scent. He didn't recognize it, but it called to him, demanding his attention. Desire sank sharp talons into his insides. Instantly, his cock hardened, the hunger deepening into something more. Something…

It wasn't until his scales tightened and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears that he understood what was happening. She was here. Somewhere.

He scanned the courtyard, seeking the source of the scent. Was this actually happening? It must be, but part of his mind still argued he had to be mistaken. Here? Now? He'd worked with these people for a year now. None of them were…

He finally saw her. The human held so still he hadn't noticed her standing beside the director, almost vanishing into Saska's shadow.

Quiet. Wary. Watching him intently. Did she already sense what was happening? Torren doubted it. Humans had never experienced anything like the sharhal , the mating fever, until coming into contact with his race. They would have to remember. This would not be a simple claiming.

He laughed to himself. What was he saying? He'd never heard of a simple, straightforward claiming. Mating and war were much the same in that regard. Neither process ever went according to plan.

He'd covered half the distance between them before he even realized he had moved. The closer he got, the stronger her scent, and the more certain he was.

"Mahaya." The word came unbidden, a statement of fact. She was his mate. Their mate. The one they'd been waiting on for so long they'd started to give up hope.

The female stiffened, her eyes—brown, he noted, warm and expressive—widening as he approached. More details came to him. Her face was lovely with delicate features, and her hair was dark, long enough that she'd braided and bound into a knot at the back of her neck. The way she held herself made her seem shorter than she actually was, though he still towered over her. She was slender, too. With long limbs and subtle curves hidden beneath her loose-fitting outfit.

He barely noticed when the director addressed them, only catching the second half of whatever she said.

"I expect both of you to resume your duties next week once you get this…" She moved her hands through the air between them. "Sorted out. Good luck and congratulations."

"Thank you," he called out as Saska moved purposely through the crowd of curious younglings.

One of them took a step in his direction, and alarms sounded in the back of his mind. Curiosity would lead to questions, and questions would mean delays. That was unacceptable.

He held out his hand to her, overriding the urge to scoop her into his arms and take off before anyone could stop him. "We need to leave."

She reached for his hand but stopped before they made contact. "Why?"

He did his best to sound calm and rational, which he thought was damn impressive, given he was anything but. "If we don't depart now, the younglings will figure out what's happened."

"Oh." She nodded, the skin on her cheeks darkening slightly. "You're trying to protect their innocence. Of course. I should have thought of that."

She placed her small hand in his, the softness of her skin making it almost impossible for him to think.

"Uh. What?" His brain managed to catch up. "What part? The sharhal ?" He chuckled. "They know all about the mating fever. We are much more open about such things than humans, I think. I want to avoid their questions."

She glanced around, her eyes widening as she noticed they were the center of attention.

"Oh! Oh no. Uh, I mean yes. Yes, we should go. Now ." To his amusement, she tried to pull him along with her as she made for the gate leading outside.

He resisted her, not completely, but enough to slow her down. "Easy. If you bolt, they'll be on us like a ghost cat on a squeaker."

She took a quick breath and nodded once. "Right. Don't show weakness. That's what Director Firt told me."

The younglings closed in, and Torren knew the possibilities for escape were dwindling. "Apologies for rushing this, but we're out of options. Hang on, blossom. I'll get us somewhere we can talk."

He tugged her closer and then crouched, gathering her into his arms. Instead of acting shocked or even surprised, the female laughed and flung her arms around his neck. "Go, quickly. Before I come to my senses."

Everywhere their bodies touched felt as if it had been seared by flames. He wanted to relish this moment, but that wasn't a good idea. With his mate held tightly in his arms, he spread his wings and launched into the air, every downbeat of his wings lifting them higher.

Noises of disappointment followed them, but in seconds they were over the walls and away.

Without a communication link, the only way to speak to his mate was by shouting. Since that would allow others on the ground to hear, he opted to say nothing for now. At least, not to her.

However, he needed to speak to someone else.

"Zan. I found her." He sent the subvocalized message via their private channel. Even as he spoke, he knew no words could convey the importance of this moment. Her . She was here. They'd found her.

Strike that. He'd found her. And he'd never let Zanyr forget it.

" Say again? Found who ?"

Torren grinned to himself and dragged out his next words. "I found our mahaya."

He counted off the seconds while Zanyr processed what he'd said. It took the male nearly five seconds to speak again. "You're sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life. Drop what you're doing and meet us."

"Where are you?"

He didn't feel like explaining that he'd fled from a bunch of curious students. Instead, he glanced down and tried to figure out a good place to land—somewhere quiet but maybe not too private. The female probably wouldn't be comfortable if she found herself alone with two unknown males claiming to be her mates.

"Meet us outside the Bar None. Oh, and let Saral know we'll need a table in the back. If she makes a fuss, tell her why."

Zanyr laughed. " She'll throw out some poor unsuspecting fool and clear the table herself if I do that. I know what she's like when it comes to matings. Speaking of, are you going to tell me our mahaya 's name? "

"I would if I knew it. We haven't had time for introductions yet. Get your ass in the air already."

"I'm airborne. What can you tell me about her? Something. Anything."

Torren looked down at the delicate female curled against his chest and felt a thrum of possessive desire that made it hard to think.

"She's beautiful, Zan. She's also…" He trailed off as his attention wavered and he gave in to the temptation to nuzzle the crown of her hair.

"Also what? If you don't finish that sentence, I will break off one of your wings and beat you with it when next we meet."

Torren chuckled to himself, amused by his anrik's frustration. "She's human."