at them to let him go.
When they did, it was at the female’s feet.
Cruel hands grabbed at his hair, yanked his head back. The sharp edge of a blade cut into his neck, forcing him to stillness.
His gaze locked with the female’s.
“Your designation?” she asked.
The blade was too deep in his flesh to let him speak, although he tried.
A quick flick of her hand, and the donai holding the blade eased up on the pressure.
Andret coughed up blood.
“She asked you a question,” the dark-haired donai with the blade said.
“My name is Andret.”
She smirked. “Is it now?”
“Yes,” he said, making another attempt to free himself. The hands holding his arms tightened, digging in deep, making him wince.
The female tore the container off his chest, her nails leaving trails of blood as they ripped through his skin.
Andret’s face hit the ground. A knee pressed into his back. He arched his back enough to get his face out of the dirt before his head was pushed down again.
“Strong for his age,” the donai holding him down said.
The female’s eyes widened as she examined the container. She lowered herself to the ground. Her layered irises swirled, contracting and expanding as she looked him over.
“What are you doing here, Andret?” There was a note of amusement at his name.
“Protecting my donai brothers.” And sisters. But they didn’t need to know that. Not yet.
She ran her hands reverently over the container as a predatory smile revealed her cuspids.
“Let him up,” she said, rising. She handed the container to the white-haired male.
The knee on Andret’s back pushed him down as he made to rise.
“We don’t need him,” the deep, harsh voice above him said.
“I said, let him up.” Her voice harmonized with something inside Andret. The compulsion to rise, despite the pain in his pinioned arms, the weight on his back and head, became unbearable.
The donai above him let him go, releasing his hands, easing off his back and head. Andret pushed up, pivoted, and struck with all his strength. Four bones in his hand broke, but his target staggered back, blinking in surprise.
“Stand down,” she said.
The dark-haired donai obeyed, hands clenched, body positioned to strike, but still nonetheless. The look on his face was not one of obedience though. Bared teeth and a pulsing jaw muscle promised retribution.
The white-haired male looked on, amusement on his face. “Oh, he is young,” he said, tightening his grip on the container.
“Turn around, Andret,” she said.
He did. His body didn’t give him a choice. Chills ran through him, different from the ones that had given him calm efficiency before. Tremors pursued the chill, chasing it through his skin, down into his muscles and bones, creating a resonance of pleasure mixed with an eagerness to please.
She ran her hand over his chest, along the healing furrows she’d left behind, baring her teeth as she did so. A deep breath at his neck pulled at his scent. She closed her eyes, a lioness savoring the aromas of her prey.
She twisted her hand into his hair, giving it a tug. “Why are you protecting your brothers?”
“I gave my word as donai.”
She leaned closer, her scent wrapping around him, sweeter than anything he’d smelled before. Better than a kill. Better than anything. For an instant there was no forest, no other males, nothing but her and a sense of purpose mixed with the joy of being with his own kind.
“He’ll do,” she said, letting him go and spinning on her heel. “Bring him.”
“Do what?” Andret asked, unsteady as he followed, his head slowly clearing.
“Fight for our freedom. What else?”
* * *
—
On the planet now called Serigala, a slab of white marble stabs into the sky like a sword with its hilt buried in the soil beneath. Light from two moons shines down on a wolf’s head carved into the monument, along with an