V'hor's Nestmate Read online

It was the first of many acts to come to keep anyone save herself and Adira from seeing her son unclothed and knowing her shame.

  ***

  18 years later

  V’hor slumped against the door and managed to align his palm to the sensor. Never had he been in this much pain before. The door swished open with a beep that signaled his security protocols deactivating. He dragged himself straight toward his cleansing room, steps stumbling as the gash on his thigh bled heavily.

  Once there, he leaned against the smooth tiled wall and panted. The damage to his ribs wouldn’t allow for deeper inhalations. Slow and steady, he counted out a full minute before leaning forward to adjust the settings of the water controls. His vision hazed at the sudden movement, causing V’hor to falter. He caught himself on the glass enclosure then cursed as the cuts on his knuckles split and protested.

  Training today had not gone well. V’hor snorted as he slowly removed his clothing. Understatement. He’d grown cocky and lowered his guard.

  Wincing from the lancing pain all over his body, he stepped into the cubicle and let the steam relax strained muscles. Bit by bit, the quivering eased, the fight response fading along with the tension. This wasn’t his first beating at the hands of his instructors, but it was one of the more severe in recent years.

  All because he’d slipped into a hypnotic trance during the fight. V’hor swallowed, reminding himself it was an important lesson for him to master. Letting emotions rule could mean life or death.

  Blowing out a breath, V’hor propped a forearm on the wall and soaked his head. The cuts on his lip and at the corner of his right eye burned from the water pressure.

  Five guards to take him down was a new record. If the head instructor, B’Nir, hadn’t zapped V’hor with a shock stick, he might not have been able to clear his head and come back to himself.

  V’hor still wasn’t sure of all the damage he’d done after throwing two senior trainers off of his back. At some point he’d blacked out and disconnected. It was one of the reasons the trance state was dangerous for Serpines with his level of abilities. He’d been seconds away from flaring his hood and any bite from him in that moment would have been powerful enough to kill in an instant.

  Skin heated from the high temp he’d used, V’hor released another sigh and shut down the water controls. He dried half-heartedly, letting the cloth drop to the floor to take care of in the morning. He knew better than to trance himself tonight to heal. It would be obvious and he’d receive a worst beating from the trainers to reinforce the error.

  With one arm about his waist to minimize jarring his injuries, V’hor trekked to his bedroom and carefully lowered himself onto the abundant covers on his bed. His one indulgence, the soft bedding cradled his wounded body. It was nothing to turn off his thoughts and ease into a deep sleep. Darkness aided him and he was out.

  The sound was minor. A tiny scrape of boot against floor but enough V’hor’s senses picked up on the noise and his eyes popped open. Training kicked in as he eased to the side of his bed and slid to the floor where he unsheathed the wicked knife he kept beneath the frame in case of emergencies.

  Quieter than the one who’d invaded his three room suite, V’hor cracked the bedroom door open and made his way down the hall. Serpine vision was strong and he had no trouble seeing clearly.

  The intruder was silent, no sound gave away their presence. The frisson of alarm coursing through V’hor’s veins assured that he was no longer alone. The bedroom and bathroom connected to his outer lounge area via a short hallway. He paused at the corner of the corridor, knowing his next step would expose him to the other when he entered the lounge.

  Tightening his fingers on the handle of the blade, he rolled into the room and came up on his heels. The wisp of air to his right gave sufficient warning and V’hor spun while driving his left arm forward. Contact. A muffled oomph even as V’hor swiveled behind the stranger.

  An elbow to the gut sent V’hor stumbling. The intruder sought to press his advantage and V’hor dropped to the ground, sweeping his leg out. The muffled groan signaled impact. V’hor was back on his feet using his senses to track. Sound and sight became magnified.

  Shuffling feet to his left had him pivoting. With an instinct born from thousands of hours training, V’hor ducked the swing to the general area of his face and trapped his opponent with an arm about the waist. His chest to their back. V’hor pressed his blade to the slim neck with one hand and locked his other arm in a brutal choke hold directly underneath.

  Laughter. “You’re better than I expected.”

  V’hor tensed. There was no fear in the masculine voice. And it was definitely a male he’d caught and not a female assassin like in the past. Doubt about the gender had caused him to avoid deadly force. His Matire had tricked him like that once in the past. “Who are you?”

  A rough exhale. “Good question and partly explains why I’m here.”

  Plenty thought to get to the Supreme Matire by going through her children. It was why his sisters stayed in the secure main part of his Matire’s home and V’hor had a group of guards outside the building he resided in. How this stranger managed to bypass them was an answer he’d get later.

  Digging the blade deeper until it drew blood, V’hor whispered, “You have two minutes to explain yourself before I slit your throat and summon guards to take your body away. I won’t care either way.”

  “Then neither of us will have had the chance to discuss your Matire’s reason for hiding the truth of your parentage.”

  V’hor froze. He didn’t realize he’d loosened his grip until the man jerked, grabbed his arm and broke free. V’hor crouched into an attack stance prepared to defend himself, but all the other did was strike a light stick and toss it to the center of the floor illuminating the room.

  “I didn’t come to hurt you.”

  V’hor maintained his position as he studied the tall, blond dressed all in black. The gaze that met his glowed with...hunger?

  “Who are you?”

  The stranger’s smile held a hint of remorse. “Are you prepared for the answer?”

  “Are you prepared to die?” V’hor countered.

  The response got him a low chuckle. “Your mother’s fiery passion and dare I say my temerity.”

  What did he mean by those words? V’hor straightened, not loosening his grasp on the knife he held. “You have less than a minute now.”

  The blue eyes darkened. “Summon the guards and they’ll be dragging dead bodies out. Just not mine because I’m gonna need at least five, son.”

  V’hor trilled deep in his throat. The low burr acted as a vocal signal for warning or affection. Now it was intended as a warning. His Serpine nature rejected the paternal claim instantly. “C’Ri Dahreel, nestmate to the Supreme Matire, is my father.”

  “He has done far more than I expected. And for that I am grateful.” There was no doubting the sincerity in those words. “But he is not your father.”

  Everything in V’hor shrieked a warning, yet at the same time a constriction he’d never noticed eased in his chest. Perhaps this stranger would provide the answer to a question he’d always had. He flicked his tongue against his fangs and spoke in a voice coated with ice. “Your five minutes start now.”

  A slow smirk spread across the handsome face. “Very well. It seems you fully follow the true Serpine way so I will treat you with the same sterile delivery you’d expect. I am your father. D’Lan, no last name necessary. Your Matire and I met while she carried her nestmate’s children.” D’Lan grimaced. “I was not aware of this at the time. While I’ve done many dishonorable things, sex sharing with another’s female is not a pleasure I seek.”

  “The Supreme Matire is above reproach,” V’hor spat. Inside he quaked. How dare this stranger disparage his maternal line?

  D’Lan snorted. “I know the reports on your intelligence are not fake. Whatever love you hold for her, surely you’re aware flaws are something Peshla Dahreel has in abundanc
e.”

  V’hor’s heart picked up a double beat. As much as he wished to deny what this stranger said, he could not dismiss the claim lightly. It would explain so many things. V’hor dug deep to calm his center even as a drop of sweat beaded his temple. “Why come now to tell me this?”

  D’Lan exhaled and shifted his stance. V’hor tensed but D’Lan only ran a hand through the ruffled waves of his hair. “You will be considered an adult on your next natal day. Most Serpine males are encouraged to join the planet’s security forces at that point.”

  That told him nothing. He needed answers. “Two minutes.”

  D’Lan’s brows slammed down. True anger for the first time flashed. “Fine. I am not full Serpine and had little options growing up. My father was an off worlder here and eventually fled the cruelty of my Matire not long before I reached the age you are now.” He grimaced. “It was a difficult time. In any event, I’ve followed your training. Know what you’re capable of accomplishing. Before you commit yourself to lifelong service, you should consider there are options beyond these walls.”

  The idea of leaving home never crossed V’hor’s mind. The very concept was completely antithetical to the expectations Peshla pounded into him. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

  “Because I have no reason to lie.”

  Simple and straight forward.

  V’hor fought the pull encouraging him to believe something that could change the very fabric of his life. “You have less than a minute to finish.”

  Cheeks red, D’Lan practically vibrated with his rage. “Fuck. Peshla is your Matire but my blood runs through you too. I hope for your sake you stand strong when she realizes how dangerous you can be and seeks to crush you. That’s my fatherly advice for what it’s worth.”

  He saluted V’hor with a chin lift and turned to leave.

  “What options?”

  The question was out before V’hor knew he’d ask. D’Lan pivoted and instead of the gloating expression V’hor expected, he got relief.

  ***

  It took everything in V’hor to approach his Matire the next morning. He couldn’t reconcile the truth of his paternity against all he’d been told. After D’Lan’s revelations, sleep proved illusive. Unanswered questions burned a hole in his gut, eating at his identity and who he thought he was.

  Had his Matire ever planned to tell him the truth? Did C’Ri know that the son he lavished affection on wasn’t of his bloodline? V’hor’s heart stuttered in his chest. Did his sisters know?

  Despite his nerves, none of it was reflected on his face as he crossed the threshold of his Matire’s personal residence. Guards were stationed at all four points of entry into the lavish suite. His three sisters sat quietly at Peshla’s bare feet absorbing their lessons as future Matires.

  Blonde and blue eyed with dainty lithe forms they appeared as they were meant to—sweet and innocent. One had only to look deeper into their stares to sense their true nature. They were like a nest of deadly vipers surrounded by opulent furnishings in gold.

  Their culture followed the matriarchal line and female Serpine were considered a valuable asset to any family. None more so than the Dahreel’s because of their noble positioning.

  A male had one purpose—to serve and protect. No one knew this better than V’hor.

  Every gaze turned toward him as he entered. The light hearted mood in the room shifted, grew thick with tension. Guards reached for their holstered weapons and V’hor paused. It was a familiar sight and one he’d grown used to.

  After his training had begun, he was never allowed to stay by his Matire’s side in a casual manner unattended. As a child he’d been hurt, the separation from his siblings a difficult pain to process. They’d been together every moment of their lives. One day he’d been a brother, the next a potential risk to their safety. The suddenness of the separation had felt as if a vital part of who he was had been sliced away.

  As an adult male, he now had a better understanding of the danger he’d represented. He was considered a threat to the Supreme Matire despite the fact she’d birthed him. All males were. They alone acquired the technique and skills to kill without emotional connections.

  Peshla glanced up from the data pad she was reading. She set it to the side on a table and stared at him with eyes of green-gold. A perfect match to his own, unlike his sisters, who each shared their father’s crystalline blue depths.

  “Why are you here? I did not send for you.”

  Despite the new knowledge he had no reason to doubt, V’hor wished his father was here. When C’Ri was around, his Matire maintained a cool demeanor and didn’t let her temper flare as high. Peshla Dahreel’s anger was not something anyone courted. Serpine females were at their most dangerous if not soothed by the calm restraint of the male in their life.

  Forcing his spine straight, V’hor approached her chaise with the rigid posture he’d learned years ago from his instructors in the coche and kept his expression free of any revealing emotions. For as long as he could remember, if she suspected a hint of something he desired, Peshla went out of her way to make him work for it. And he really wanted what D’Lan had presented to him.

  V’hor took a deep breath and broached the subject which could cause a verbal attack unlike any before. “I would like to join the Academy on Enotia and become a Jutak warrior.”

  His Matire adjusted her seating to face him directly and blinked. “What?”

  Her response was typical. She enjoyed having males cater to her and it didn’t matter that they shared the same blood.

  He forced himself to remain steady and expand on his request. “I wish to become a Jutak warrior. Their session for new recruits to the Academy is about to open. With my background and training, I would qualify.”

  He’d excelled in all combat simulations with and without weaponry, his scores in subterfuge were the highest of any other and he’d completed the most dangerous courses in eliminating a target. He held one of the highest marksman ratings among his peers and carried gold star status. To be Serpine was to be a flawless killer.

  V’hor’s only downfall was his temper and occasional loss of control in the midst of a battle. D’Lan assured him the Jutaks training would aid in that.

  “You are on a path to be one of my guards. Officially. Why do you seek to alter the plans?”

  As Peshla’s guard, V’hor would be stuck here, forever under his Matire’s rule. Even if he chose another career, he would still have to answer to her as the head of his matriarchal line and the Supreme Matire of Serpine.

  In an uncanny move, D’Lan appealed to V’hor’s craving for acceptance. He’d known of the brutal training V’hor underwent. During the brief time they spoke, D’Lan was very clear as he outlined the bleak path looming ahead for V’hor. Then in a final blow, he’d challenged V’hor to seek more if he dared.

  The Jutak warriors, one option among many, struck at the core of him. The more D’Lan spoke of them, the more V’hor envisioned his future. An impossible dream which would allow him to break far away from the mold cast for him. As a Jutak, he’d be free in a way he’d never considered. Accepted at last.

  To circumvent her suspicion, V’hor detailed a list of reasons why joining the Enotian elite military force would be an asset to Serpine and ultimately her. Pandering to his Matire’s ego was one of the earliest lessons he’d learned from the coche.

  “That sounds dangerous, V’hor,” Sollee said once he concluded. She was the oldest of his sisters, his protector during his younger years when his Matire sought to discipline him.

  More times than he could count Sollee sheltered him. Lied in an effort to hide V’hor’s perceived shortcomings.

  “Danger is always a risk for a soldier.” He gave her the simplest answer while keeping his Matire in his line of sight. She watched intently, brows creased. He couldn’t afford to coddle or explain in detail to his favorite sister. Peshla would leap on the chance to refuse him.

  “Let him go.” Falla,
his youngest sister, waved her hand in dismissal. Falla took to their Matire’s ways the easiest. As a child she was always the first to list all of V’hor’s infractions during the allotted time they spent with Peshla. Infractions which often led to discipline.

  It had been evident early on to everyone that his Matire had little love for him. He wasn’t sure she loved anyone, not even her nestmate. Power was her passion. She was unrelenting in the pursuit of it and though she’d held her seat as Supreme Matire longer than any other in the history annuals, Peshla never lowered her vigilance.

  But she did exhibit care and concern for her other children. At first, he’d thought it because he was her only son and she held him to a higher standard, but long after he’d exceeded academic demands, high-level physical training and a year under the service of a matriarch who made his Matire seem like a gentle woomba; she continued to berate him for the slightest misstep.

  Now at the age of his majority, he wanted this one thing. Wanted it more than he could recall wanting anything else in his life.

  “We should all hear him out. Tell Matire more of why you want this, V’hor.”

  Betta, his middle sister, came across as calm. Her scholarly aspirations led others to think of her as less of a threat. V’hor watched Betta the closest because he’d once caught her attacking a guard and using his own knife to slash his mid-section. In deference to her position he hadn’t defended himself.

  The guard had been removed and on the day his Matire gave judgment to execute him for failing in his duty, Betta smirked. At the time, she’d been eight years of age.

  “Betta’s right, explain yourself, son.” Peshla’s gaze filled with suspicion.

  “If I join in service with your guards, I will be moved to the quarters they all share.” The single floor building housed up to thirty armed soldiers at any given time. Since he’d already gone over the valid reasons, he used what he hoped would be the defining motivation. “This means communal bathing. Sharing of confined spaces.”

  A minute stiffening of her shoulders. The small gesture eased his worry and he pressed his lips tight to keep from speaking further. Arms crossed behind his back, he waited for her verdict.