Havik did not understand.
“I did not think you could be so selfish.” Ren stood over Havik; fists clenched.
The wine left Havik pleasantly warm, but his metabolism burned off the alcohol far too fast for him to be drunk. “If you are going to strike, do it while I am prone,” he said.
“Stand up then. I won’t let others do my dirty work for me.” Ren’s tail violently lashed side to side, the barb carelessly exposed.
Now Havik was very confused. In the last year, no one offered him help or assistance. Every mile he traveled was on foot or in a vehicle he maintained. While he accepted food and water at his stops, he received the same hospitality as any other traveler and only supplemented what he gathered or hunted. He completed the missions the warlord gave him, on his own, without assistance, even for the missions that would have been easier with two. If Ren wanted a fight, Havik would give it to him.
Havik rose to his feet and stretched lazily. Standing taller and broader than Ren, he didn’t mind rubbing sand in the male’s nose and flexed his considerable bulk. “What is it you think others have done for me?”
Havik may have prodded Ren in the chest harder than necessary, but it made his point.
“Your mate! You send her away like a spoiled child and mope in the dark, feeling sorry for yourself.” His nostrils flared and the spiraling tattoo design that started on forearms glowed faintly.
“You have no control,” Havik said, giving his friend another shove.
“And you have no honor!” Ren pushed back, grunting with satisfaction when Havik’s foot slipped on the slick gravel.
“Ren, we have known each other since we were tripping over our tails, and I love you as a brother, but I will pull the tusks from your mouth for such slander.” He should not have returned. This place was no longer his home.
Ren lunged, his arms clamping around Havik’s waist. He had enough weight and momentum to knock Havik to the ground. The males grappled, fighting for dominance. Ren struck with a flurry of quick blows. Gravel and shards of broken glass dug into his back.
Havik grabbed Ren’s tail and pulled hard, causing the male to yelp. A dirty trick, but necessary. Using the distraction, Havik rolled Ren to his back and pinned him to the ground.
The smaller male thrashed but he could not dislodge Havik.
“Son of the warlord, always getting what he wants,” Ren snarled.
“When have I ever gotten anything I wanted? When I lost my mate and son? When I scattered my family’s ashes on the wind? Do I look like a male who got what he wanted?”
Havik’s arm pressed against Ren’s throat, not enough to cut his air but enough to make him pay attention. The males stared at each other.
“You had your father send away your mate,” Ren said, his voice thin and scratchy.
Havik eased back, relieving the pressure on Ren’s throat. “She died,” he said.
Understanding drilled itself way inside as solidly at the jab Ren landed on his throat.
He scrambled away, rubbing his injured throat, and needing to distance himself from the judgmental eyes of his oldest friend. Kaos had delivered the devastating news that Havik lost both his mate and their son.
“I assure you she did not.” Ren rubbed his own throat.
“The runt told you,” Kaos said, bent over his workbench. He wore a pair of spectacles designed for minuscule work. Without raising his eyes from the antique energy blaster, his tools manipulating the delicate components.
Havik swallowed his immediate impulse to defend Ren, who was not undersized. This is how his father operated, tossing out distractions to delay the inevitable confrontation and changing the conversation. It worked on a young, hot-headed Havik, but no longer.
“Did you imagine I would not find out?” he asked.
Some internal piece of the energy blaster clicked into place. “It was an interesting experiment to see how long I could keep you distracted,” his father said.
No. Not his father. Havik learned early that Kaos was the warlord first, and his father second, if at all, and at the moment Havik did not want to claim the male as his sire.
“And what conclusion did you draw?” Havik wished he could claw back the question. He fell for Kaos’ distractions once again.
His father looked up from the blaster and removed the spectacles. “You’re angry at me now, but you knew that Terran was a bad match for the clan, so you allowed yourself to be fooled. Perhaps even welcomed it.”
Allowed.
Welcomed?
His father’s arrogance disgusted him.
“Vanessa was not—” Again, he nearly stepped into the male’s trap. “I cannot remain here,” Havik said.
“No.” Kaos slotted the casing back on the blaster. It hummed to life, soft lights flashing as it powered up. “I went through too much work orchestrating events for you to run away now. You are my only son. You will take another mate—a suitable female—and give me strong grandsons.”
“What trouble? Deceiving my mate into thinking I rejected her? Deceiving me about her death? Taking away the only thing that has ever belonged to me?” Havik’s voice rose as he spoke, until he shouted the last words.
Kaos regarded him with a cool expression. “Terrans are unsuitable as a species. Have you ever wondered why there are so few Terran mates in the clan? Did the runt tell you that?”
He had not, but Havik said nothing.
Just as well, Kaos’ question was rhetorical as he continued to speak. “The males are given the choice to reject the female or leave the clan.”
“That is no choice at all.” When Havik learned of his match, he immediately felt possessive of the female, sight unseen. He could not imagine a male willingly giving up his mate when faced with such an ultimatum. “How many good warriors have you driven away?”
“Such judgment in your tone when you’re young enough to still be tripping over your tail.” Kaos shook
