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He doesn’t deny it. I’d underestimated him and I didn’t have a very high opinion of him in the first place. “She needs to know. What you don’t seem to understand—and I hope you do someday, truly—is that we’re a family here. We aren’t perfect. We make bad decisions, like anyone else, but we’d die for each other. We’d hurt for each other. We’d kill for each other. You’re a mother to one of our own and that deserves a certain amount of respect, but so did Molly. The information you have could help find her daughter.”

  I simply shut down. After the night with Sayer and Jareth and now this with Molly, it’s too much. I let Avrell take my arm and lead me away like one of the prisoners I was supposed to study. Maybe a part of me even feels like I deserve it. Had I become so blind to the consequences of my work that I was willing to do whatever it took to be the best in my field? At the time it had felt like such an honor to be chosen. To be revered and touted as a savior of humankind, but at what cost?

  If saving billions meant the life of one, was it still worth it?

  Was that how these aliens had felt when they stole us from the ship?

  They didn’t have any other choice.

  At the time, it seemed like I didn’t either.

  Did I?

  Do I?

  The dread grows as we near a door at the end of a hallway, but instead of lodging in my gut, it takes place in my heart.

  Jareth and Sayer are going to be so disappointed.

  They deserve so much better than me.

  10

  Sayer

  “Uvie, check it again.”

  She rattles off some numbers that has my spine straightening.

  “Again, Uvie.”

  The same.

  Twenty-seven times and it’s all the same.

  “Uvie, I need the commander and Theron. Now.”

  She goes silent as I stare at my computer screen. The transmission pings to Mortuus. That means Willow is here. On Mortuus. It’s what we’d hoped for and now it’s confirmed. It’s not a close journey—one we wouldn’t be able to take by a terrainster—but close enough via the Mayvina and a few solars’ travel.

  Sitting back in my chair, I stretch and sniff the air. I swear I can still scent her, clinging to the air wherever I go. It’s tempting and seriously wrecks my concentration. I close my eyes for a moment and reflect back to the crazed way we’d mated. In the back of my mind, my heart was ripping from my chest. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Jare.

  But then…

  He’d offered to help. Made sure neither of us lost control. And then he brought pleasure to Grace as she rode my cock. Fantasies of me watching her with him are too rekking tempting.

  In my minnasuit, my cock aches as it hardens. If I weren’t in the middle of something important, I’d pull it free and bring myself some relief or call Jareth to come do it for me.

  “Uvie’s not real,” Theron says, jerking me from my thoughts. “You can’t mate a voice.” He flashes me a devilish smirk. “Tell me the truth. How many times have you spilled seed calling out Uvie’s name?”

  I pick up the closest tool and heave it at him. He ducks and Breccan catches it as he strides in. Theron snorts when Breccan gives us both a stern look that doesn’t match the amusement in his eyes.

  “You two mortlings done squabbling?” Breccan asks, tossing the tool back on the table with a clatter and crossing his arms over his massive chest.

  “Will we ever be?” Theron teases. “What are we here for anyway? You have your beloved Uvie and I have the loveliest female on Mortuus. Sweet Mayvina. And I’d like to get back to greasing her insides.” He waggles his brows suggestively at me.

  “You’re rekking twisted,” I say with a groan.

  “Can’t argue that, Say.”

  “Sayer,” Breccan grunts, ignoring our banter. “Uvie said you needed us?”

  I swivel in my chair and clack my claw on the computer screen. “There. See it?”

  Both morts walk up behind me and are quiet for a moment as they study the readings.

  “What’s this mean?” Breccan asks, though I know he understands the data.

  “Means we’re gonna take my girl for a ride!” Theron lets out a loud whistle. “About time. The Mayvina was feeling like a caged beast. As Molly always says,” he says, raising his pitch to mimic hers, “‘bless her heart.’”

  “How far?” Breccan demands, ignoring Theron’s playfulness.

  “Four solars’ travel. Maybe less. The transmission comes from this planet as you saw.” I crack my neck to relieve some tension. “Willow is close.”

  “Finders keepers?” Theron asks, chuckling. “I mean…if she looks like Molly…”

  Breccan thumps him in the nog. “Don’t be a piece of rogshite.”

  “I’m just saying, I’d be glad to go claim that prize.”

  “What prize?” Molly says from the doorway.

  Breccan whacks Theron again, making him cry out like a newborn mortling.

  “Nothing,” I mutter, my eyes flicking to Grace, who stands behind Molly, her head bowed. My nostrils flare when I scent her and I rise from my seat, eager to touch her.

  Molly storms into the room, her face red with fury and Grace trails. I stalk over to her and pull her into my arms so I can sniff her hair. Rather than be rigid like I expect, she relaxes in my arms as though she craves my comfort and protection. I don’t have the raging need to mate with her—although I’m certainly fantasizing about it—so her response is genuine and not pheromone based.

  “Tell them,” Molly bellows, turning her accusing glare to Grace. “How you know exactly where the prison is and your role.”

  Grace straightens and lifts her chin bravely. “I wasn’t a prisoner.”

  Breccan scowls, his shoulders squaring. His stance makes me want to crack my sub-bones and roar, which is not something I should be doing against my commander. Still, I hug Grace tighter to me, the need to keep her and my mortling safe overwhelming. My palm slides to her stomach and she covers my hand with hers, squeezing me gently.

  “Elaborate,” Breccan growls.

  “I was a scientist meant to study the subjects.”

  “People,” Molly snaps. “We’re people.”

  “The, uh, people who were headed to Exilium Penitentiary from Earth II were to be studied for various things as part of their punishment for the crimes they’d committed. Mainly susceptibility to radiation and diseases stemming from radiation exposure.”

  “Like The Rades?” I ask, stroking my thumb along her stomach.

  Molly deflates a little. “You wanted to help them?”

  I know her mind must be on her mate, Draven, who suffered and nearly went to The Eternals when he contracted a terrible case of the disease.

  Grace sighs. “I don’t know what The Rades is—aside from what I’ve been told here and there around here that the morts in the past have suffered from. But I suppose, yes, diseases such as that one and many others. We were looking to create vaccines against such things.”

  “So we were just test subjects?” Molly demands.

  “Yes,” Grace grumbles. “Like I was too.” She pats her stomach in exaggeration.

  “Skip to the part where you know where the prison is,” Breccan barks out. “And please inform the room of why you kept such important details for yourself.”

  I’m confused as to why Grace hid her knowledge, but I can imagine she was frightened. She’s been fearful behind her anger since she woke up. Now, they’re practically cornering her with their double fangs out.

  My sub-bones start cracking and Breccan’s glare becomes harder. Theron laughs. He’s lucky he’s moved out of Breccan’s way or I’m sure he’d get another thump to the nog.

  “Grace had her reasons. Her transition here hasn’t exactly been an easy one,” I defend. “Everyone needs to cool down.”

  “Cool down?” Molly’s voice is shrill. “She could have information regarding my daughter!”

  The door flings open—as though we need another
mort crammed in my space—and Draven stalks in, his nostrils flaring. He pulls his mate against him and glowers silently at each of us, daring us.

  “I don’t know your daughter,” Grace mutters. “If I did, I’d tell you…”

  “But…” I encourage.

  She tilts her head up at me, her brows pinched together. I lean my forehead to hers and then peck her lips in a familiar way. A way I do often with Jareth. This seems to give her the push she needs because she turns to face them again.

  “Exilium Penitentiary is on Earth, or Mortuus as you all call it. It’s on the northwestern hemisphere near the Pacific Ocean,” Grace explains.

  Theron cocks his head and Breccan glances at me in confusion.

  “What’s Pacific Ocean?” I urge. “A facility?”

  Molly frowns. “In history on Earth II, we learned about old Earth—the one destroyed by bombs and radiation. Up until recently, I didn’t realize Earth was Mortuus as we were never told that. But the Pacific Ocean was a body of water on Earth. Or…here.”

  “Like Lake Acido?” Theron ponders aloud.

  “Bigger. Much, much bigger. Do you not know what an ocean is?” Molly asks them, her anger gone as she looks at us sadly.

  All four morts in the room shake their nogs.

  “Right, so if I had a map, I could point it out,” Grace says in exasperation, clearly keen on divulging what she knows now. Pride makes me wrap both arms around her so I can hug her tight.

  “Coordinates. Would that help?” I ask, nuzzling her hair.

  “Perhaps. We could figure it out together.”

  If only she would let us figure out the three of us—her, Jareth, and myself—and our mortling growing bigger by the solar in her stomach.

  “We will figure it out together.”

  * * *

  “How many humans?” Breccan demands, pacing the command center.

  Grace sits close beside me and Jareth takes up the chair on her other side. As soon as the commander called the meeting for the entire faction, I pulled Jareth aside and filled him in. We both feel as though she needs us on her side, especially considering everyone is angry with her for keeping the information to herself. It makes us want to protect her all the more.

  “Hundreds.”

  Voices mutter heatedly in the room before Breccan raises a hand to silence everyone.

  “And morts?”

  “I’m unsure,” Grace mutters. “I wasn’t told I’d be studying aliens. Only my own kind.”

  Calix’s chair squeaks as he leans back. His son Hophalix is sprawled on his massive chest looking ever so tiny. A pang shoots through me as I try to imagine Jareth holding the mortling growing in Grace’s womb. Would he stroke its soft nog the way Calix does with the gentlest touch? Would he press a soft kiss to its nog and whisper sweet words like Calix does? Every fatherly bone in my body craves to have what Calix and Breccan have. Soon, my dream will come true. If everything wasn’t such a mess, I’d almost be inclined to ask if I could hold the mortling. His blond hair glistens like spun gold in the light and his skin is so pale. Such a precious little thing. It’s hard to imagine it’ll grow to be big and strong like his father one day.

  Grace’s stomach grumbles and she shoots me a pleading look. We’ve been here for far too long. I’m sure she’s hungry.

  Jareth leans over and grips her thigh, squeezing gently. “I’ll get you something to eat.” He flashes her a crooked grin—one that always has me naked in minutes. “Sit tight.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of leaving,” she says dryly.

  He stands and ruffles her hair before walking off. Everyone scowls icily at us. I wrap my arm around her and pin each person down with my glare—even the delicate human females, which earns me growls from each of their mates.

  The more they want to put the blame on her for the situation we’re in, the more I want to protect her from it. For being so strong all the time, Grace seems to gratefully accept my comfort. When her palm goes to her stomach, I know our mortling is moving, so I caress her belly so I can feel the life flipping and flopping inside her.

  Grace lets out a heavy, resigned sigh. “I didn’t know Willow was there…”

  “But,” Breccan urges.

  “Please don’t hate me,” she whispers, turning her head to look over at Aria, who’s nursing her mortling.

  Aria stiffens and pales. “I make no promises.”

  Grace sniffles, making rare anger surge to my surface. Jareth usually loses his temper, but I cool him off. With Grace, I’m the one getting angry…on her behalf.

  No wonder she doesn’t feel as though she fits in.

  They won’t let her.

  “Limerick is there,” Grace whispers.

  The room goes silent aside from the popping of Breccan’s sub-bones.

  “What?” Aria’s voice is so low we barely hear it.

  “I only know because you were famous and it was gossip among my peers—”

  “What?” Aria screeches. “No! My sister is on Earth II with our parents! You’re a liar, Grace!”

  Grace chokes on a sob. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

  Breccan starts barking out commands. “Theron and Hadrian. I want the Mayvina ready for travel soon. Willow and Limerick both need our help.”

  Emery reaches for Sokko, taking him from Aria while she loses it to hysterical crying. Hophalix stirs on his father’s chest at the sound of the other mortling in his mother’s arms. Breccan pulls her from the chair and into his arms, still continuing to bark out instructions for our impromptu rescue mission.

  “Aria,” Grace starts.

  “No,” Aria cries out, her face splotchy from crying an arm outstretched as she points at Grace in a threatening way. “You don’t get to talk anymore. Not to me. You’re a conniving bitch.”

  “Aria,” Emery chides softly. “You’re upset, but there’s no need to call her names.”

  “Seriously?” Aria hisses. “She comes into our home and throws a goddamn fit over being pregnant all the while failing to tell us she was on the side of the people who held us up there.” She points above her head. “And then to keep the location of the prison a secret knowing my fucking sister was there!”

  Molly flinches at her rage, both she and Emery exchanging worried looks.

  “You should go with them since you’re so damn unhappy here,” Aria sobs. “Just go to the prison with Theron and Hadrian. Study all the fucking samples you want!”

  “That’s enough,” I snap, no longer able to allow Madam Commander to berate my mate. My mate. Rekk.

  Breccan pins me with a harsh glare but gives me a small nod.

  “Come,” I instruct Grace. “You need to eat and rest. We’ll talk later.”

  Aria turns into Breccan’s embrace, sobbing against him. I wrap my arms around Grace and guide her out of the room, ignoring the accusing stares of everyone. Once in the corridor, we meet Jareth, who holds a plate of food.

  “She needed to get away from there,” I grumble, irritation in my tone. “Madam Commander was being cruel.”

  Jareth glowers. “To Grace?”

  “I deserved that,” Grace says softly.

  “No, you didn’t,” I growl, stroking her hair.

  Jareth leans in and presses his lips to her cheek. “No, you didn’t.”

  “You missed the part where I betrayed the whole community with knowledge of the fact your commander’s wife’s sister is at Exilium Penitentiary,” Grace barks out bitterly.

  Jareth presses a claw under her chin, tilting her head up. “Sayer says you didn’t deserve it and I trust his words.” This time, Jareth’s lips brush against hers, and she doesn’t push him away. If anything, she seems relieved at the touch.

  “As much as I want to watch my mates kiss, I’d rather do it in private where I can enjoy the display more freely,” I say with a smile.

  Neither Grace nor Jareth corrects me.

  Mates sounds quite nice on my forked tongue.

  11r />
  Grace

  The two of them lead me back to the solitude of Sayer’s rooms. Jareth herds me to a small chair and table that I have a hard time imagining supporting Sayer’s bulk. Sayer pushes a plate of food in my direction.

  “Eat,” he demands.

  “I’m not very hungry,” I respond and push the plate away. How could I be? I expected Molly’s disappointment and perhaps even Breccan’s wrath, but Aria’s anger? I wasn’t prepared for the naked hatred in her eyes. The sense of control I felt while working with Avrell, albeit only momentarily, was negated by the scene afterward.

  Jareth pulls a stool next to me and crouches over it. He lifts a piece of strange, juicy fruit with his hands and brings it to my lips. “You must eat. Your skin is nearly as pale as mine. You need food.”

  I smack at his hand. “I don’t want it.” I start to stand, but Sayer is there behind me. His sturdy weight successfully blocks my retreat.

  “I know you’re upset,” Sayer’s voice rumbles, echoing in my chest so that I feel him speak with my whole body.

  Closing my eyes, I wish I could go back to the cryotube where I had no idea what was going on. Maybe they’d made a mistake waking me up. All I’ve done here so far is interfere and cause pain.

  “You don’t know anything,” I insist. “They hate me. You heard what Aria said. Molly would barely even talk to me.”

  Jareth tips my face up to his with his free hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. Despite being upset, I remember how he’d looked when he made me come. He’d been so sure then, so steady, like he could read my mind. If he could have read it then, he never would have touched me. How could they even stand to be around me when I caused so much pain?

  “They’re hurt and you’re an easy target,” Jareth murmurs gently. Someone so strong and immoveable shouldn’t be able to have such a gentle side. No wonder Sayer can’t get enough of him.

  “But they’re right to be angry. I wanted to hurt them. You. Anyone. I wanted to make you all pay for what was done to me.” It’s true, I did. I had been so angry about my life being taken from me I didn’t care who I hurt. Even the one person who’d tried to be my friend. I don’t think Molly will ever forgive me. How could she?