Chapter 2

2

Vengeance loped through the forest of their adopted home world, leaping over obstacles as he followed his clan-brother, Risk. None of them had been in this area before, so there were no trails or markers to follow, but they knew where they were going.

More or less.

The strange ship had crashed before their rudimentary tracking system could manage more than a rough estimate of its location, but it was enough. They would find the ship and its precious cargo of unclaimed females. At least, Vengeance hoped they were still unclaimed. Most of the clan would have already arrived by now, and his brothers might have taken all the females for themselves.

He growled in frustration and picked up the pace. Why were they moving so slowly ?

"Faster," he snarled to no one in particular.

"Remember what the female said," Havoc growled back. "We need to be gentle with these humans."

"If any are left by the time we reach them," Vengeance snarled. "We're moving too slowly."

Risk glanced back over his shoulder, his fangs bared. "Would you like to lead for a while, Venge? You can set whatever pace you like. If you're away from Havoc, maybe the two of you will stop arguing."

"I'm not arguing," Vengeance stated. He'd been trying to make Havoc see reason. The stubborn male was always forming complicated plans to achieve simple goals. Vengeance didn't see the point.

Risk stopped and spun around to face him, his expression a blend of bemusement and frustration. "You're both arguing. One of you wants to rush in. The other wants to make elaborate plans and consider every possible scenario. You're wrong."

Havoc stopped immediately—probably because he'd been moving so slowly . Vengeance took several more strides to come to a halt. Risk rarely spoke out like this. Of all their brothers, he had the most self-control. Vengeance was the opposite, especially when it came to spending time with his brothers. None of them found it easy to be with the others for more than a few hours. Instinct drove them to aggression and acts of dominance that strained their bonds and made it impossible for them to live in any kind of close community.

The three of them had been together for too long—first on the hunting trip and then on this journey to the crash site. Vengeance considered that for a moment and grudgingly admitted to himself that maybe he had been arguing with his brother. Maybe .

"We can't both be wrong," Vengeance said.

"Yeah, you can." Risk thumped a fist to his bare chest. " My plan is the right one."

Another plan? Vengeance groaned inwardly. Why was any of this necessary? They knew everything they needed to do.

Two days ago, the verexi's automated defense systems had shot down a ship with human females aboard. Several escape pods had ejected before the main vessel had made what they all hoped was a survivable crash landing.

Since then, three of their brothers had located pods and claimed the females they found for themselves.

Once the others learned of this, the rest of the clan had rushed to the crash site to find any survivors. Only Bysshe had stayed behind. The android was the closest thing they had to a father figure, but while he was a clan-brother in spirit, he had no need for female companionship. At least Vengeance didn't think he did. Did Bysshe even have the parts for sex?

He backed away from that line of thought before it led him somewhere no one wanted to go. Bysshe didn't talk about what he was or what he'd done before the verexi had bought him and put him to work as head keeper for their most dangerous experiments—the fa'rel.

The three of them were out hunting when news of the females broke. They'd arrived hours after the others had left to find the crashed ship. His bastard brothers hadn't bothered to wait. Which he couldn't really blame them for. He'd have done the same thing in their position, but he was still going to be pissed about it. It was the same for his brethren who had found mates. Sure, he was happy for Mayhem, Strife, and Menace, but he was also racked with envy. He wanted what they had—not their females, of course, but one of his own. Someone he could talk to about things his brothers would never understand. A companion to fill the long, empty nights when memories of his past haunted him. A mate to warm his bed and explore all the ways they could pleasure each other.

Thinking about it made him even more certain his idea was the right one. All these plans were unnecessary. Vengeance's sense of smell was better than any of his brothers, but he hadn't realized how much better it was until now. None of them seemed to have noticed that Hope and Menace's scents contained nearly identical elements. It wasn't that they smelled the same, but their scents complemented each other in ways he couldn't explain.

That had always been his problem. His instincts provided him with information, but he struggled to put the knowledge into words. Bysshe had tried to teach him the science behind his ability, but Vengeance could never stay still and focused long enough to absorb it all.

"And what's your plan?" Havoc asked. The question jerked Vengeance back to the present moment.

"Nice of you to finally ask," Risk said.

The note of rebuke in his brother's tone made him wince a little. In all the time he and Havoc had argued, Risk had kept silent. Vengeance had assumed he agreed with Havoc simply because that's how it usually went. They all thought of Vengeance as the reckless one who always charged in. They weren't entirely wrong about that, but they weren't right, either. He operated best when he let his instincts guide him.

Vengeance bowed his head and waited for Risk to speak. It was as close as any of them got to apologizing. Havoc did the same.

After a moment, Risk spoke again. "We have no idea how any of this mating crap works. We've never seen a female before today. Assuming there are any survivors, don't you think we should get to know them before we decide we want to spend forever with one?" He pointed at Vengeance. "You want to charge in and claim one, but what if she doesn't like you? What if you don't like her?"

Vengeance considered explaining what he'd noticed about Hope and Menace's scents, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he shrugged. "You think that could happen?"

Havoc scratched his beard, considering things. Then he scowled at Risk and said, "When did you become the logical one?"

Risk scoffed. "Right after the two of you saw Menace's female and lost your fucking minds."

Vengeance snarled in resentment. He hadn't lost his mind. Meeting Hope had simply made him even more determined to reach the downed ship and try to find a female whose scent matched his own.

"But she was so beautiful," Havoc said.

Annoyance with the delay and constant chatter pushed him to action. Vengeance turned and shoved his clan-brother hard enough to make Havoc stumble. "Hope is pretty. My mate will be beautiful ," he declared. "I will claim the best of them for myself."

Risk snapped. "That's not what Hope said. She told us to be gentle with the females. Remember?"

"No," Vengeance lied. He recalled every word the little human female had uttered, but he didn't want to admit it right now. "I don't remember that part."

"She said to be gentle, like Menace was with her." Havoc swung his head from side to side and grinned a little. "I don't think that word translated correctly. Our brother is far from gentle."

They all laughed in agreement. Menace was more like him than many of his clan-mates. Whatever the verexi had done to them, the results had not been uniform. Each of his brothers had their own talents and temperaments. Vengeance had never understood why they'd created the fa'rel to be so different from each other when their creators valued conformity. From the clothes they wore to the way they spoke, everything about that race was the same.

After the laughter died away, Risk spoke again. "Hope also said that if we were lucky, one of the females might choose to bond with us. Might ," he repeated. "We shouldn't assume we can simply lay claim to one of the females."

Vengeance growled, not in disagreement but because he knew how right his brother was. They wouldn't be able to lay claim to whatever female they found. She had to be the right female for them. But if he was the only one who knew that, would the others try to take a female who wasn't the right match? If she were among the survivors, would any of his brothers try to take his female? They needed to catch up before that happened.

"I like my plan better," was all he said.

Havoc turned and shoved him. "You would. Simple minds like simple plans. Risk is saying I'm right. We need a plan."

Risk raised his voice. "That's not what I said!"

Frustration and anger flowed off him in waves, triggering an instinctive response from both him and Havoc. Vengeance's fur stood on end, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Havoc snarled and raised one hand, his claws extended and his teeth bared.

No one moved. This always happened when they spent too much time with other members of their clan. The wrong word or a sudden move was all it took for a fight to break out, and that would only delay them more .

Determined to break the standoff, Vengeance forced himself to relax as he unslung the pack from his shoulders and started rummaging around inside it. "If we're going to stand around here for a while, I'm eating. You two do whatever it is you're doing."

The tactic worked. The others relaxed, and the charged feeling in the air dissipated like when mist met a stiff breeze.

In no time, the three were eating and talking as if the entire incident had never happened.

Risk talked the most. He explained what he thought needed to happen. He wanted to act faster than Havoc did, with a flexible plan that would allow for more variables, but he still seemed to want to complicate things more than Vengeance liked. It sounded like a compromise, which meant no one got what they wanted.

When Risk was done, they lapsed into a thoughtful silence. No one agreed to anything, and now they had three ideas for how to proceed instead of two. That might be a problem later, but none of them seemed too concerned about it now. It was how things worked. Every member of the clan had the freedom to make their own decisions, so long as their choices didn't threaten the safety of the others. After a lifetime of experiments and imprisonment, the right to make their own choices was too important. He and his brothers would fight to the death before they allowed anyone to take their freedom again.

Once they were underway once more, something did go Vengeance's way. Risk set a faster pace than before. Soon they were racing each other through the woods, their tawny coloring allowing them to blend into the gold and orange foliage. Every step they took before nightfall reduced the distance they'd need to cross when the sun rose again. Even with the shortcut they'd taken, they were still nearly a half-day's journey from the area of the crash site. Their clan-brothers would be there soon. They might have arrived already, depending on how fast they had traveled. If he'd been with them, they'd have raced the entire way.

Vengeance shot an annoyed look at Havoc. If Havoc still led them, they'd probably be walking. He wiped the expression from his face almost as quickly as it appeared. As annoying as his brother's approach could be, sometimes he was right. Havoc had been one of the planners who orchestrated their escape from the verexi.

The fucking scrawnies had lied to them. They'd convinced the fa'rel that the entire experiment was a failure. That part was true enough. While he and his brethren were lethal warriors, they were also stubborn and resentful of any attempts to command or control them.

Their captors told them they'd found a suitable planet for the entire group, and they'd be allowed to live there unmolested. That was all a lie.

The scrawnies wanted them dead and blasted into atoms to get rid of any proof they'd ever existed.

He and his brothers had other ideas. Havoc and several others worked with Bysshe to find a way to break out of the cargo hold they'd been trapped in. They'd battled the droids on board, forced their way through sealed bulkheads, and taken control of the ship. Of course, none of them had any idea how to fly the fucking thing, so they'd ended up crashing onto the surface of the planet.

It was still better than what the verexi intended to happen. The damned scrawnies still wanted them dead and sent mercenaries to the surface periodically to try and exterminate them. They'd killed so many that Vengeance suspected the local wildlife had developed a taste for anything in armor.

It was a good thing none of the fa'rel wore any.