She nodded and continued to slowly back up. She bumped into a chair and put a hand back to feel her way around the furniture. Slowly, carefully, she continued to retreat until she passed through the door and closed it behind her. Zul took a deep breath to catch and savor the scent of her and eased his claws free of the chair. He’d have to replace it out of the fortune he’d not touched since the demise of his triad.
He thrust himself to his feet and lurched a step toward the door, then stopped. He was committed to dinner with the Fangrys Prime and Second. They would scent his desire for their mate. He could smell it himself, the lust rolling off his skin. Only the absence of his spoor on her skin would prevent them from killing him—or trying to kill him. He was a berserker and unbound: killing him would be no easy task. Only knowing that killing Bran or Gil would harm Ursula restrained the overpowering urge to attack them and annihilate the competition.
Zul lowered himself to the floor and assumed a meditative position. He took long, deep breaths and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax one tight muscle at a time. By the time he managed to restore his calm, a servant entered the room to announce his presence was requested for dinner.
He rubbed a hand down his face and replied, “I shall be there momentarily.”
The castratus bowed and retreated as silently as he’d entered.
Zul went to his room and quickly washed and changed into clean clothing more appropriate for dining with his hosts. He had received the clothing courtesy of the Prima’s order. He would have to leave it behind when he departed, for a vagabond had no need of such a fine or extensive wardrobe. He was glad he’d changed when he entered the dining chamber, as both Bran and Gil wore formal garb. Ursula was not present in the room.
His hosts stood to greet him. Bran gestured toward the table and said, “Welcome, Zullar cen’Gyrah, Third of the Uk’khadir Triad. Please be seated.”
Gil’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing as Zul walked around the table and seated himself in an empty chair.
“Where is the Prima?” Zul inquired, carefully modulating his tone.
“Safe,” Gil replied. “While we are grateful to you, we do not trust you.”
“We do not trust any unmated Urib,” Bran added, waving his hand to indicate the servants should begin serving. “And we can smell your desire for her.”
Gil’s nostrils flared again. “It is testimony to your honor and our gratitude that you still live.”
Zul met his gaze, his own hard and glittering. “I’m not so easily killed.”
Bran nodded. “No, berserker, you are not. But I have controlled a strong berserker before, and I can control you.”
Zul almost managed to repress a snort. “Not if I don’t allow it.”
Gil slid a sideways glance at Bran. “Do you think he’s stronger than Crow was?”
Bran shrugged, not caring that their guest overheard their conversation. “Perhaps.” He met Zul’s eyes, his own expression inscrutable. “Now that we are home, you will not be alone with our mate or son.”
“And when you are deployed again?” Zul snapped.
“You will not be here,” Gil answered.
Zul bared his teeth.
“Eat,” Bran ordered, the heavy weight of his authority thrumming within the space. “We must discuss a boon in reward for your service.”
“I need no money,” Zul stated. “I am all that is left of the Uk’khadir Triad and sole owner of our accumulated wealth.”
“Then what do you want?” Gil asked.
Zul took a breath, paused, then answered slowly, honestly, “Peace. I want peace.”
Bran nodded, understanding that he meant peace of mind rather than an absence of violence. “We live with regret and loss. Peace is not ours to give.”
Zul took another deep breath and nodded, thinking of another boon, a request he dared not ask. He met the warrior’s eye and said with aching candor, “I miss the bond of brotherhood.”
Bran nodded again. “As we miss Crow, our Third and the Bridge between our mate’s First and Forever.”
“We did not have a mate,” Zul admitted, not needing to express that his triad had greatly desired a female of their own. Uribern had not yet made contact with Earth when the Uk’khadir Prime and Second were killed in battle. He recalled his astonishment upon learning how quickly the nations on Earth agreed to trade their females for Triune Alliance technology and protection. Humans, apparently, did not properly value their abundance of females as a blessing. “You will treasure yours for the divine gift she is.”
“We do,” Gil confirmed. He grimaced. “We are aware that our commanders seek to free our mate of a broken triad to give her to a whole one so she might bear more young.” He bared his teeth. “We will not permit that.”
Zul nodded. “I am not surprised. Politics cares little for well-being, only for victory.”
