Personally, he would have loved to spend more time in Dnara. The only times he’d been there had been on training missions, and he’d been confined to a single home, where the leader kept a careful eye on him. There had been no freedom to explore, yet he’d found books and a working TV to provide glimpses of what he ached to see.
His father had promised if he’d taken a female mate, he would make Milo a scout, and he could travel to Dnara whenever he wanted. He doubted Thatcher would keep his word, but the temptation had been dangled in front of him for a long time. Only he wasn’t attracted to both genders and couldn’t live a lie just to suit his father. No matter how many times he raged or beat him to encourage a change of heart.
No, there was no getting past the fact same-sex relationships would always be regarded in Vihaan as ‘different’. Maybe if people like Alpha Keon worked hard for long enough, they could change that mentality, but Milo heard the comments of the older generations as he sat in the village. Whispers that Keon had announced he’d been given a male true mate and had rejected him. That Keon had sworn to take another man as his mate, but it would be a chosen mate who stood by his side.
The snide comments suggested Alpha Keon had posted these laws to legitimise his future mating to a man and didn’t genuinely care about accepting others in the pack as gaoj. Which seemed ridiculous to Milo because an Alpha could mate whoever they wanted, without the permission or approval of the rest of the pack. His father had been doing it for years.
What Milo didn’t understand was how the laws would circumnavigate nature. They said a true mate could be rejected, but how did that apply to the mate scent? He’d only met Hamond once before he proclaimed them mates and hadn’t sensed the mate scent before his father forced Hamond to reject the mating. As he’d been generously ‘compensated’ with land and the opportunity to build his own pack elsewhere, Hamond had been quick to sever the bond before Milo had known how it felt.
As far as he knew, the mate scent was singular to the m’weko.For the kalou,they saw a flash of red in the eyes of their mate, which seemed harder to prove to the rest of the clan than the m’weko way. When they scented their mate, everyone in the pack became aware and had no choice but to accept the bond as scents intermingled. Though Milo had heard that when only one of the pairing was of age, the scent could only be detected on the one who felt the bond.
Milo wondered what it was like to suddenly scent the thing you loved most on another person and feel a pull towards them. How would he smell to his mate? Did a chosen mate give off a mate scent? He’d never known anyone to refuse their true mate, as Thatcher normally didn’t interfere with matings unless it suited him, and he’d never had the chance to find out.
Since most Vihaans considered same-sex pairings an abomination, and those who had feelings for their own gender often self-exiled to Dnara to escape the shame and mistreatment of their pack, Milo had no idea if there had ever been an accepted mating between two people of the same gender. Surely that was something the Meskli must know about though. Milo would be interested to learn if that existed in m’weko history or in the history of Vihaan amongst other species.
Perhaps once he was free of his father, Milo would make that his life’s mission—to discover the true history of gaoj in Vihaan. Then again, if the Meskli couldn’t tell him, maybe there was nothing to discover? Vihaan had long been a place that refused to acknowledge or document the history of things it wished to forget.
*
Keon
KEON WOULD NEVERdiscover how Weston knew, but as he lit his first cigarette of the day, lounging on the sofa, his Beta entered the room and hovered. A sure sign something had gone wrong. “Spit it out.”
Weston nibbled his lower lip. “Eliseo requests an audience. His team of five is complete. Their plans are made, supplies packed, and they’re ready to depart for Dnara. However?” He paused, nose wrinkling. “?Vega is here.”
Why had the guards not stopped him? The fact Weston hadn’t sent him away suggested more to the story.
“Eliseo used the rear door despite having an appointment,” Weston explained, reluctant and irritated. “He announced Vega had requested a position on his team and wants your permission to refuse.”
Ah. Eliseo didn’t want to bring Vega by the front door, exposed to the pack, in an attempt to protect Keon from the shame. Which implied Vega had been running his mouth. He thought he’d drawn a line under this, but nothing short of Farley removing Vega from the pack would do the job.
“Let them in, West. We can’t announce a law saying any pack member can request a meeting, and go against it.” Damn Vega for using his laws against him.
Weston’s mouth pinched in disapproval, but he walked away. His feelings for Vega had been clear from day one, when he’d admitted to using his friendship with Simeon to his advantage.
Swapping his cigarette for a mug of coffee—one into the ashtray, the other nicely cooled—Keon relaxed and contemplated how to handle this. Eliseo’s appointment was to check in about his progress for the Dnaran trip. Vega’s insistence to join them spelled trouble. What he wanted was anyone’s guess, but Keon imagined two scenarios: to use the mission to escape to Dnara or to fuck up the mission to get Keon’s attention. One would be a blessing, the other a curse. Whatever he wanted, it better not be ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘If you could forgive me’. Those choices weren’t on the table. Whatwason the table troubled him as much as Vega’s appearance. His m’nuni paperwork. Blank. Without a viable mate.
Taking a sip of coffee, Keon tapped a finger against the cracked porcelain mug, the image of a wolf howling at the moon never failing to tickle his warped sense of humour. A gift from Drew to symbolise Keon’s inner m’weko, and much appreciated. Rylee disagreed, scowling over the tiger on his mug, threatening to spank Drew for being cheeky. He snuffed a laugh, remembering Drew’s face and the sweetness of his voice when he said, “Maybe that’s what I want.” Rylee had been speechless, dragging Drew from the room. Keon would never ask if he got what he wanted, but laughter followed the slamming of the door.
If he’d learned one truth from their relationship, it was that love didn’t need to be serious. It could be fun, adoring, and light-hearted. Exactly what he wanted for his mating. Equality in the relationship, regardless of his status. Someone who looked deeper to the man beneath the surface.
Vega would never be that man. Hewantedthe status of being Alpha-Consort.
Keon meant it when he said this pack was a family. He’d chosen the living room as his ‘operating room’, because it was the most comfortable, informal room of the house. If he wanted to run a pack who behaved like andwasa family, he’d better emulate it. His brother had never held talks with the pack, like every Alpha in their history. Simeon decreed his word as law and wouldn’t hear complaints or disagreements. Grier had used a study or formal receiving room, but it was segregated and authoritative.
When Weston returned, Eliseo stopped two paces behind, head bowed in respect, sporting cargo trousers and a thick hoodie. Vega had the nerve to step equal to Weston and fold his arms, wearing jeans ripped at the knees and a T-shirt having seen better days.
Keon replaced his coffee cup with his cigarette and took a puff. He felt overdressed, in jeans and a band hoodie he’d stolen from Rylee, but was miles more comfortable than either of the men before him. Vega radiating anger and tension. Eliseo avoiding eye contact.
“Unless you have a personal objection, you can look at me, Eliseo,” Keon promised, refusing to let him break his neck to avoid him. “I don’t hold grudges and I don’t believe in lording my position over others. You can look at me and call me Keon.”
Peeking through blond hair, Eliseo blinked in confusion. A glance at Weston’s relaxed posture made him visibly straighten to meet Keon’s gaze. “Thank you. This is a list of the team members I chose. I’ve personally vetted them to check they have no reason to act against your wishes or escape into Dnara without warning,” he explained, removing a piece of paper from the pocket of his hoodie.
Keon took it with his left hand, his right slipping the cigarette from between his lips. He eyed the list, intrigued. Gale was the eldest of the Toreto children, twenty-five and built like a brick. Perfect for the mission. Isaac was an interesting choice, eighteen and a weed, but in training to become a scout. Keon trusted Eliseo knew what he was doing by choosing him. Janet’s name made sense. She was a scout and Isaac’s sister, three years older and with experience of Dnara.
This trip would be practical training for Isaac. Safe, a low risk of violence or danger, and a base to operate from on both sides of the doorway. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
The last name was Jude, twenty-four years old and an excellent fighter, possessing an analytical brain. Eliseo had chosen a solid team. Strong, smart, and capable of taking care of themselves. Gale and Janet would navigate the world without trouble, focused on the mission. Jude would provide a third kickass fighter, if they got into trouble.
