Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06] (30 page)

It made Breft think of his own Matara and little ones. His chest throbbed with an ache that was equal parts love and worry.

Still looking at his family, Bevau said, “My heart breaks to think of those deaths. But it was not intentional. The men who made it happen have suffered tremendously already without earning public hatred.”

Breft took a deep breath to ease the heaviness that filled him. “My emperor, you’ve read the messages left by this Beast. Someone who was on New Bethlehem, not necessarily involved with the massacre, is taking out his damage on innocent Mataras here. He must be stopped.”

A muscle jumped in the emperor’s jaw. He refused to look at Breft. “I will not expose anyone I don’t have to. We had thousands of soldiers on that colony. I trust Global Security, but I will take no chances on having my men who are innocent killed by a self-righteous mob.”

Lidon, ever diplomatic, offered a solution. “If we were to give you specific names, my emperor?”

Bevau looked at him with an expression of relief. “I will accept that. Tell me your suspects and I will tell you if they were there.”

“Company Commander Dramok Erybet.”

Bevau started. His mouth dropped open as if to protest, and then he snapped it shut. He jerked a nod.

Breft added. “Group Commander Nobek Sletran.”

Bevau’s hands shook for a moment and stilled. He jerked another nod. It was apparent these two men in particular meant something to him.

“Foot soldier Nobek Monby. Military aide Nobek Tas.”

Bevau didn’t react as strongly as those two names. “To the best of my knowledge, both those men went missing soon after they returned from New Bethlehem. Tas left a suicide note, but his body hasn’t been found. They served under Erybet and Sletran.”

Lidon’s voice was very quiet, low enough to escape the hearing of the Royal Guard. “Were any of them involved in the massacre itself?”

Bevau licked his lips. “All of them.”

Breft swallowed. If it turned out one of his four suspects was the Beast, that would open up the question of whether the Slaughter of Innocents was a cataclysmic mistake or planned murder.

The look on Bevau’s face said he knew that too. He leaned close and whispered, “I know Erybet and Sletran, Breft. Good soldiers. Good men. Neither of them would harm any Matara no matter what they went through on New Bethlehem. It would be so against their nature as to be impossible.”

Breft spoke carefully, not wanting to earn Bevau’s anger. “I have to consider every possible element, my emperor. I promise you my investigation will be very discreet. As long as I have no reason to believe either of them is behind this, they will not even be aware they are suspects.”

Bevau fixed his intense gaze on Breft’s face. “Be very sure of this before you approach them. I don’t think you’re aware of the damage knowing they’re under investigation could cause.”

“Then tell me, my emperor.”

“Two-thirds of Sletran’s group have committed suicide over the massacre already. The rest are in and out of internment camps due to violent crimes or remanded to psych wards.”

Lidon gaped. “All of them?”

Bevau gave him a grim smile. “All have found trouble but Erybet and Sletran themselves, and the one Dramok who served as Erybet’s aide on New Bethlehem.”

Breft and Lidon exchanged horrified glances. Whether by mistake or design, the massacre continued to claim lives. That over half had killed themselves because of it brought the terrible weight back into Breft’s chest.

“‘There is none more unforgiving than the self’,” Lidon quoted from the Book of Life. He bowed to Bevau. “My Dramok still struggles with the guilt he feels over being a key player in Armageddon, though he was absolved of all blame. You may be assured the four names we gave you will not leave our confidences.”

Bevau nodded. “Their lives depend upon it.”

Breft added his bow. “Thank you for your valuable assistance, my emperor.”

Bevau had turned once more to the laughing Matara and children in the vid photo. He said nothing. They left him staring at his family’s portrait.

* * * *

His Dramok and Nobek had inadvertently caused New Bethlehem’s Slaughter of Innocents.

It was a lot to wrap his head around.

As soon as the men walked into their home, Erybet called, “Sletran?”

The rough voice raised to answer. “We’re out on the balcony.”

Conyod exchanged a look with his Dramok. “We?”

They went out to discover Rachel and Sletran relaxing in the whirlpool with drinks. It shouldn’t have concerned Conyod that his Nobek had picked Ray-Ray up and brought her back here. Yet for some reason, it did.

Rachel waved cheerfully for a moment before assuming a grumpier expression. In Kalquorian she demanded, “Where the fuck you be? We wait forever you two assholes get home.”

From the corner of his eye, Conyod saw Erybet’s jaw drop, a match to his own shock at her language. Sletran and Rachel burst into gales of laughter at their expressions.

The clinical part of Conyod’s mind noted how his beloved’s voice sounded stronger and less raspy as she learned to use it once more. The not so clinical parts of him saw she looked stunning in a skintight bright yellow soaksuit. It dipped low between her breasts, showing the inside curves to advantage. He wondered how much the bottom part revealed. What he could see rippling beneath the water’s surface showed the long stretch of her legs.

Conyod felt heat spilling into his cock, making him hard. He turned his attention to Sletran.

The Nobek was still chuckling, looking so much like his old self that it made Conyod’s heart ache anew for what his clanmate had suffered.

Erybet had recovered, mild disapproval replacing the stunned look on his face. “Really, Sletran? You’re teaching her profanity?”

Conyod crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “That will get her so much farther than good manners.”

Rachel kicked water at them. “Laugh. Is funny, you shit elbows.”

Sletran roared with hysterical laughter. Erybet’s struggle to rein in his humor was obvious, and Conyod turned his face away to hide the grin currently owning his face.

Sletran gasped between bellows of hilarity. “No, Ray-Ray.
Clefgud sok
is what you meant to say. Shit brains, not shit elbows.”

That did it. Erybet lost all pretense of Dramok-like control and fell apart. Conyod joined in, laughing hard enough that he forgot to breathe. After hearing the grim story of New Bethlehem, it felt damned good to laugh.

Rachel grinned and shrugged. “To say ‘shit’ is good. Sletran say need say shit when Conyod, Erybet cook.”

Conyod shook his head at Sletran. “Aren’t you a little old for that kind of humor?”

The Nobek grinned. “Aren’t you a little young to be such an uptight shit elbow?”

That got them laughing again. Conyod couldn’t remember the last time they’d all laughed so hard.

Sletran finally calmed down and stood. He got out of the whirlpool and used a drycloth to stop dripping. He wrapped it around his waist. To Rachel he said, “I’d like to speak to my clan for a moment, Ray-Ray. Will you excuse us?”

Rachel looked at the depleted drink she held in one hand, put it on the edge of the whirlpool, and picked up Sletran’s half-full cup. Raising it to the three men, she grinned and waved them away.

Chuckling, Erybet and Conyod followed Sletran into the dining room.

As soon as they were all gathered, Sletran spoke. “I know I haven’t been myself for quite some time. I didn’t realize how much I’d changed until Ray-Ray came along. When she’s around, I feel like I used to.”

Erybet nodded. “You act more like your old self when she’s present.”

“She makes me think I can be the man I was again.” He took a deep breath. “Can we clan her, Erybet?”

Conyod’s breath froze in his lungs. He exchanged a look with the Dramok. Of course Sletran noticed, and his eyes narrowed.

Erybet put a hand on the Nobek’s broad shoulder. “Before we discuss that, we need to address your emotional health, Sletran. I’ve been very worried. So worried that I have disobeyed orders from our superiors.”

Sletran’s gaze threatened to bore a hole in Erybet’s skull. “In what way, my Dramok?”

Conyod moved close. “He told me about what happened on New Bethlehem.”

Sletran jerked, his eyes widening as he turned to Conyod. In that instant, the Imdiko saw something he’d never thought his clanmate was capable of: utter terror.

Conyod hurried to calm the big Nobek. “I think you did the best you could in a no-win situation, Sletran. You won’t hear a word of condemnation from me. If you’ll let me, I’d like to help you deal with the pain better than you have been.”

Tension fled Sletran; so much so that his entire body sagged with the release of it. The need on his face made Conyod hurt. “You don’t see me as a monster?”

Conyod stepped forward to wrap his arms around the solid body of his clanmate. He whispered in Sletran’s ear, “Of course not.” Then, to mask the emotion that wanted to overwhelm him, he teased, “You know you’ll always be my hero. I worship your blade, my Nobek.”

Sletran snorted a brief expulsion of laughter. His fingers trailed lightly through Conyod’s hair before gently pushing him away. He gripped Conyod’s shoulders and studied him. After a moment, he seemed satisfied. “You don’t know what a relief it is to be able to look you in the eye again. Even if you didn’t understand – the secret is too big for me. I think it would have stolen my mind.” Another wash of fear, but much diminished, chased over his expression.

Conyod’s hands closed over Sletran’s biceps. “I’ll help you. We’ll figure this out,” he vowed.

Erybet patted Sletran’s back. “As to your request. We all want Rachel in our clan, but it may be best to give you more time, my Nobek.”

Sletran released Conyod to turn to their Dramok. “Please, Erybet, let’s clan her now. She gives me something tangible to work toward. I can be the Nobek she deserves, I know it.”

Erybet looked to Conyod. “You’re the psychologist, Conyod. What do you think?”

Of course he wanted a professional assessment, one only a trained therapist could give. And Erybet wanted Rachel too, so much that he wouldn’t be able to render an objective answer.

Conyod wasn’t assured he had the ability to do that himself. He’d dreamed of clanning Rachel for months. Still, he tried to consider the question with all due fairness.

She still had yet to spend a night in her quarters at the Matara compound, only going there to change clothes for the most part. Today she’d had her only time away from members of the clan since her release from the hospital. They were already living together for all practical purposes.

And Sletran sounded so sincere, so sure that he’d do better with her as his mate. To feel his Nobek’s hopeful gaze on him, the pleading expression begging for a chance made Conyod want to make it happen simply because Sletran wanted it too.

Conyod bit his lip. “There’s no doubt she’s good for him. If he could teach her something besides foul language, he might be good for her too.”

Sletran quirked a hopeful smile. “If you’ll trust me in this, I swear on my life you won’t be sorry. Take it as my greatest vow, my Imdiko.”

It was too soon. Sletran was not yet stable. Yet, how could Conyod refuse him? He exhibited hope for happiness, something the Nobek had not shown since coming home. There was another element too; helping Rachel could very well help Sletran make amends for the victims of New Bethlehem, at least in his own mind. She was his greatest chance to realize redemption.

If Conyod took that away, Sletran could descend into true madness, one they might never pull him out of.

He needs this. I think he loves her, and that can go a long way to heal them both. I hope. If
not, we could be taking Ray-Ray down a dark path.

Conyod swallowed. He slowly, almost reluctantly, nodded to his clanmates. “I think he can handle it, my Dramok.”

Sletran’s grin lit up his entire face, making his rough features as boyish as the day Conyod had first seen him. “Thank you, Conyod. Thank you for having faith in me.”

They looked to Erybet. The Dramok’s smile was as brilliant as Sletran’s. “Let’s go claim our Matara.”

Conyod’s pulse sped up. Was this really happening? Was Rachel truly about to be his?

He could hardly feel his feet as he followed Erybet back out to the balcony with Sletran next to him. They stepped out into the sun just as Rachel got out of the pool.

The Imdiko barely restrained a groan. The legs of her suit were cut high, almost to her waist. The soaksuit molded to her luscious curves as if painted onto her body. The sight of her wet, the sun gleaming off her deep mahogany skin and swelling her one-piece in all the right places made his groin tighten with need.

She’s beautiful. Perfect. And mine. Finally mine.

Now that he knew what he was working with as far as Sletran and Erybet’s emotional issues, he could look forward to a day when the health of all was restored. He would be happy again.

Just the anticipation was enough to make him giddy right now.

Erybet’s voice was hoarse as he looked at their intended. “Had enough?”

She nodded and rubbed a drying cloth over her short cap of hair. Conyod had the urge to make her stop so he could lick every drop off her magnificent flesh.

There was something more important about to happen however, so he held his tongue. He stood slightly behind his Dramok, slightly to Erybet’s right, his dicks as hard as rocks. Erybet continued. “We have something to ask you, Matara Rachel Hicks.”

She blinked at the use of her full, proper name. She stopped drying and looked at them expectantly. Conyod saw the flash of hope in her eyes as her gaze met his before she returned her attention to Erybet.

“Would you consent to joining my clan as our Matara?”