Fated Mate Conquered - Luna Voss Page 0,14

than risk going into heat in a house full of unsuppressed—”

She stops talking as Rojan Dizio, another vostrat, walks into the room. “Hey, guys!” he greets us, and I cringe internally as he sits down next to me on the couch, oblivious to the conversation he’s interrupting. “What are you all talking about?”

Milana throws Aspen and I a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Just how good this Dajorkan funnel cake is,” she tells him innocently. “Sorry, none left.”

Rojan’s entrance puts a stop to the conversation about going into heat. But Aspen makes eye contact with me, and I know she’s silently communicating that tomorrow, she’ll help set me up on the Epeshi ship to begin my isolation.

7

Turan

It’s evening. I walk with Draga and Aspen through the corridor of the mansion, following one of our men named Nilbattion. Apparently he wants to show us something, and for some reason, it feels fishy to me. I’ve never had reason to distrust Nilbattion before, but something about the way he’s acting is just setting off all my alarms.

Draga, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice that anything is amiss. But then, he wouldn’t. He and Aspen just returned to the villa, Aspen with a fresh mark on her neck, and I’m pretty sure he’s too caught up in the excitement of the moment to notice much of anything. I love my little brother, but it’s like his brain turns into mush when his mate is around.

I suppose meeting your Fated Mate will do that to you.

So I follow, on edge, although I’m not exactly sure what it is I’m worried about. Nilbattion takes us to the back of the mansion and into the courtyard outside.

“So, what was so important?” I ask him as soon as we stop.

“Well, it’s... just wait a moment...” Nilbattion glances around, his behavior definitely suspicious. What the fuck is going on?

And then Aspen yells. “Draga, look out!”

A red plasma burst shoots out of the bushes and sears past us. To Draga’s credit, he has his pistol out in an instant, peppering the bushes with shots until a body hits the ground. More fire comes from our left, and Nilbattion and I start shooting in the direction of this new threat. My shots hit their mark immediately, creating a smoldering hole in our attacker’s chest that glows in the darkness as he collapses. Nilbattion, on the other hand, misses ridiculously, his plasma hitting everywhere but its intended target.

And here’s the thing: I know Nilbattion. I know him well enough to know that he’s a crack shot. Well enough to know that he prides himself on being a crack shot.

Which leads me to the inescapable conclusion that Nilbattion wasn’t intending to hit his target.

I see Aspen tending to Draga, who seems to have a minor burn on his arm. Nilbattion makes a big show of checking all the nearby bushes. “I don’t— what happened? Who were those guys?”

I make eye contact with my brother, silently asking him if he’s noticed the same thing I have. He nods, the gesture so subtle as to be almost imperceptible to someone not looking for it. I respond with a similarly understated shrug. I’m sure that my face mirrors the grim resignation I can see on Draga’s. We both know what has to be done.

I raise my pistol and squeeze two bursts of plasma into the back of Nilbattion’s head. He crumples, smoke trailing from his crown.

“What the fuck?” Aspen screams.

“Nilbattion betrayed us,” I growl.

“He brought us here to the courtyard knowing we would be attacked,” Draga explains, wincing slightly as he moves his arm. “He’s the only one who could have let them into the villa.”

“Who are they?” Aspen asks.

“The Gordulla Family,” says Draga. “If Nilbattion told them we’re staying on Doros, it isn’t safe for us here anymore. We have to leave.”

I go over to Nilbattion’s body and check his pockets. “Communicator,” I announce, relieving him of it. “Locked, but there’s a message on the screen. It’s an order from Rizban.”

Draga’s eyes widen. “Does it have a location stamp?”

I squint, searching the screen. When I find it, I grin. I recognize that location. “The message originated from the Tajiki Comet Casino.”

“The Tajiki Comet? Isn’t that run by the Dajorkan mob?”

“Yeah. The Red Star Boys. Rizban must be staying there.”

“I thought we were allied with the Red Star Boys,” says Draga.

“We are,” I growl. “Or were, apparently.”

If the Red Star Boys have abandoned our alliance for the Gordulla Family, that isn’t a good