Page 1 of Clan and Crave

Chapter One

“Hoslek, wait for me!” Conyod raced towardthe paddock’s shimmering force field as his older brother rodechestnut-furred Ges through the opening he’d ordered. Anothercommand closed it behind him.

At nine years old, Hoslek was already anaccomplished rider of the six-legged kestarsh their parents bred,raised, and sold. He was also on the bossy side when it came toseven-year-old Conyod.

“Can’t wait. Two of the mares got loose, andI have to find them.” Hoslek spoke in a firm tone, but his gaze cutin the direction of their home worriedly, though the boys’ parentshadn’t yet returned from a trip to town.

“Let me go too, or I’ll tell them you didn’tproperly close the containment when you brought them in from thepasture.”

Hoslek paused for an instant before scowling.“Don’t be a jerk, Conyod. As long as I bring them home, I won’t getin trouble. Stop slowing me down.” He shouted at the paddock’ssystem, though the nearest tall metal pole emitting it was merefeet away. “Corral containment, don’t unlock for Conyod. Disablehis voice commands.”

Hoslek might have been only nine, but healready had a born Dramok’s command. Conyod’s first instinct at hisbrother’s order was to obey. By the time he’d recovered hisstubborn nature, Hoslek was galloping toward the foothills of MountEvar.

“I’ll tell!” he shouted after his brother,who’d already spurred Ges out of hearing distance. Conyod kicked adivot into the ground where the passage of numerous kestarsh hadworn the grass away. Even if he’d been able to commandeer a mountin the locked corral, he wasn’t big or strong enough to saddle themalone. He was left behind. Again.

“I’ll tell. You’ll be sorry!”

* * * *

The escaped mares returned home of their ownaccord at their normal mealtime. It was the next morning when thefirst searchers found Ges, viciously clawed and shivering, betweenoutcroppings of rocks. The evidence of a zibger’s attack wasobvious. There was no sign of Hoslek.

Conyod’s mother, who’d stayed reluctantlybehind while his fathers, the ranch hands, and local villagersspent the entire night until daybreak searching for her eldestchild, collapsed to her knees in the yard when her Imdiko mate Semabrought the horribly injured Ges home. Sema dismounted and heldher, his arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders. He was forcedto remain at her side for the rest of the rescue attempt…which mostacknowledged was now a recovery effort.

Conyod’s other two fathers continued thesearch. “We won’t stop until we find him,” Nobek Vel vowed.

Hoslek’s body wasn’t recovered. Like hundredsof riders, hikers, and adventurers who’d dared the mountainsbrooding over the plain, he was never seen again. In the end, evenVel was forced to admit the child wouldn’t be returned for a properfuneral.

The family descended into unrelenting grief.Conyod suffered endless nightmares of his brother riding away andof his own angry cry, the last words he’d spoken to Hoslek a mortalprediction: “You’ll be sorry!”

* * * *

Seventeen years later

Nobek Sletran sat in a bar in Kalquor’scapital city, convinced he’d made a mistake. It wouldn’t be thefirst time, but since this potential error involved a sensitiveImdiko, he winced in anticipation of committing it.

Not just any Imdiko. A psychologicallydamaged Imdiko with a rocky history. It was dumb to have agreedto meet him, Sletran. Dumb.

He sipped his bohut and watched for thescrawny runaway kid he’d rescued from a group of bullies nine yearsearlier. Sletran could handle his liquor, but he wished he’dstarted by drinking kloq instead. The last thing he needed was toget tipsy when dealing with a hero-worshipping boy.

He’s an adult now. You heard his voice,how deep it’s become. Conyod was what, twenty-four?Twenty-five? Still a kid, really. Sletran thought of the lost, hurtteen who’d made no secret of his crush on the Nobek for the pastdecade. They’d kept in touch because Conyod had desperately neededa friend, though Sletran had maintained their communicationstext-only during the past few years. The baritone that had spokento him on the com three days prior had been a shock. Sletran hadbarely been able to credit his ears when the caller identifiedhimself as Conyod.

“I’m working in the capital. Since you’restationed nearby, I thought we could meet for a few drinks andcatch up.”

Sletran had been so caught off guard by themature voice, he’d agreed. Afterward, he’d regretted it. Conyod wasa great kid…young man, he amended…but it was time he stoppedseeing Sletran as a bigger deal than the Nobek was. He was merely asoldier who’d given a skinny, defenseless runaway Imdiko a littlehelp and encouragement. Nothing special.

It was embarrassing to be worshipped like ahero.

His dour ruminations were interrupted by afew whistles. Heads turned, and Sletran glanced to see what thefuss was about.

A gorgeous young man had stepped in the bar.It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but his gentle expressionshouted Imdiko. The caregiver breed was the rarest of themales. A single Imdiko walking in without clanmates was rarerstill. The Nobeks and Dramoks in the room, many unattached, weretaking notice.

For good reason, beyond the handsome fellow’sdesignation. Sletran, who’d made the decision years before tocommit to the empire’s military ground forces rather than to anylong-term relationships, couldn’t help but admire the new arrivaltoo.

The focus of almost every man’s attention wasaround the Kalquorian male’s average height of six-foot-five. Wavyblack hair spilled to the middle of his back. It framed beefyshoulders and a devastatingly handsome face.

The Imdiko grinned at his admirers. He keptthem from converging on him by shaking his head, pointedlysearching for someone in the crowded bar.

He looks vaguely familiar. It suddenlyhit Sletran, and he nearly dropped his glass of bohut.

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