Page 2 of Orange Tundra
"I need him on another mission, Nialla. Give him back to me." Kilo's tone suggested pleading, but his eyes gleamed. The charade cost him nothing. We all knew my body healed faster than most—I'd be ready for the next mission regardless of what she did.
"I brought you a present from my last mission," Kilo added, voice dropping.
Ice flooded my veins. Fresh meat. Someone new for Nialla's games. In her current mood, they wouldn't last until nightfall.
Nialla turned fully to Kilo, capturing his lips. His hands grabbed her buttocks, pulling her close.
The display triggered another memory—my alpha mate. Everyone knew Zirc and Roqs yearned to be mates so the High Council would grant them a child. Was that why I'd saved Zirc that day? Seeing him about to die had triggered somethingprimal in me—an urge to sacrifice myself that shocked both my beast and me. The White Tribe instincts hummed agreement. Protect the Silver warrior. He was the anchor for the alpha who claimed my soul.
The pair broke apart, Kilo's lips leaving Nialla's exposed nipple. "Let's go have fun with him. I brought him to your playroom."
Already there? My muscles tensed. I had to?—
Roan read me perfectly. As the others departed, I moved to follow, to reach the dungeon beneath us. His massive body blocked my path. Normally I'd be confident—physically larger, but I could take him if needed. But not now. Not when I had secrets to protect.
"You won't save him," Roan murmured close to my ear. "The manasty is already half dead."
I refused to meet his eyes, staring instead at the floor, imagining I could see through stone to the suffering below. To know if intervention was still possible.
"You, on the other hand, are still alive." Roan's hand fell heavy on my shoulder, physically steering me toward the sick bay.
My feet dragged, every step taking me further from someone who needed saving.
Before we entered the sick bay corridor, Roan halted abruptly. He pulled something from his jacket and sprayed me with a harsh chemical that burned my nose and throat. I gagged, stumbling back. What the fuck? Had I misjudged him? Was this some delayed execution?
Roan's blue eyes glinted in the shadows. "He has forgotten what it smelled like when someone is newly mated."
I froze. He knew. How could he?—
"Take this." Roan pressed a small canister into my palm, the source of the pungent smell.
Understanding dawned. The rumors were true—someone in Kilo's camp supplied protection to mated pairs. A spray to mask the telltale scent that would mark them for Nialla's special brand of torture. I'd never needed it. Until now.
Was Roan behind this? A plant from the High Council? The Elders? Blue Tribe? Had his vengeance story—parents killed by High Council machinations—been a cover?
My coughing subsided as I slid the canister into one of many hidden pouches I'd sewn into my clothing.
"You mated someone out there, Trill," Roan said quietly. "One thing I don't tolerate are the unjustified deaths of mated pairs."
The answer to my unspoken question. Nialla's sickness extended to experimenting on mated pairs—killing one, watching how long the survivor lasted. When Kilo discovered this practice, he'd separated mated pairs, assigning them to different locations, even different slave camps. Not from mercy—Kilo believed in strength through numbers. Strategic cruelty versus sadism.
"Thank—"
Roan's hand pressed against my mouth. "Don't. Let's get you patched up." His eyes held mine. "Things are about to get crazy around here."
I felt it too. For months my White Tribe genes, my beast, had been restless—sensing something monumental approaching. A storm gathering. The world about to change.
I needed to survive it.
1
SILVER BEAST
Something stirred in the darkness—amemory of separation that wasn't mine. Even locked away in these caves, I could sense the ripples of Roqs' absence spreading through our pack.
But I had my own battle to fight.
I prowled the edges of Zirc's consciousness, testing the boundaries. For years, I'd been caged within his mind, allowed control only in desperate moments. Now I sensed weakness—his grief and betrayal creating cracks in the barriers between us.
