Striker Read Online Free Page B

needle and thread on all of you."
    Rumbling hisses drew his attention across the room to where four Monticore surrounded the door to the lavatory. A scorch line followed the edge of the door frame. Their exclamation of triumph shocked Zeus into understanding what they did. He shot into action as they lifted the metal door from the frame.
    "No!" His bellow filled the room. He ignored the searing pain in his leg as he launched himself up out of the sleeping platform to grasp the overhead frame of the mezzanine. Using his arms, he swung like a jungle chimpanzee across the room, over the heads of the Honor Guard. His hissing vocalization of imminent danger caused the Monticore to pause in their work and drop to their knees.
    He fell in a crouch between the Monticore and the lavatory, his scream as much one of rage, as of pain. "I will show no mercy to any who harm my Udens Mahte'lan!" He gave each guard a challenging glare until every one of them dropped their gaze to the floor.
    Warlord Sohm'lan stood in the doorway that led to the corridor. "Prince Zeus, no one would dare to raise a hand to your pregnant mate. They … we did not know. Forgive us for this trespass. He has not been harmed. You have averted the danger to your family." Sohm'lan’s even soothing tone and the way he held his hands in a gesture of peace did help to calm Zeus somewhat. But not a lot.
    The Honor Guard crawled backward, away from Zeus and those he guarded. Mar'Sani males protected their pregnant females to the point of death. The threat of danger turned them vicious and uncompromising. By custom, they gathered their family and sequestered them until the youngling was born. Breeding couples were honored among the Mar'Sani, the community helping to secure the nest, bringing them food and other amenities.
    Zeus would not have the luxury of sequestering his mates. They were in space, far away from hearth and home. They would not return to Atlainticia in a reasonable time frame. Neither one of them could afford to drop their responsibilities to nest. They would have to adapt as best they could.
    Dargon's large hands stroked his bare back. Leaning into the caresses, Zeus stepped backwards until he bumped into Dargon's legs. He could not help the spitting hisses, but being in contact with Dargon made him feel better, if only marginally.
    "We are unharmed," Dargon soothed, wrapping his arms around Zeus’s chest and lifting him from his crouching position. "You, on the other hand, are not. Why have you not been healed?"
    Mayra answered even as she leaned over Azaes. "Whatever happened, these three cannot be healed with technology. I have had to stitch the wounds closed as my people did in the old days. As long as their bodies heal normally, they will be fine. They will simply recover more slowly than they are accustomed to."
    Nesting instincts prodded Zeus unmercifully at the sight, and scent, of all the people. There should only be Dargon's and Alpha's scent in their room, which would become his nest by necessity. Seeing Azaes and Mestor side by side on Dargon's sleeping platform, Zeus wrinkled his nose at the thought of all the trouble he would have removing his brothers' scent from his bedding.  Plus, to cleanse the room properly, he would need to scour it once everyone left.
    Ignoring the warlord and the guards, he turned to examine Dargon and Alpha. Large, intense, and green, Dargon’s cat-like eyes stared down at him. Zeus ran his palms over Dargon's light golden fuzz, searching for cuts or bruising. The thick, metallic copper braid fell over one shoulder, the tip brushing the wide waistband of Dargon's hyde skirt. Zeus wrapped his fingers of one hand around the thick column of hair, while the other hand brushed the smooth sides of Dargon's scalp, following the single line of hair over a teardrop-shaped ear adorned with a line of dainty hoops, chains, and colorful studs.
    He then trailed his fingertips along the edge of Alpha's dark green form. He