A
NISE STARED DOWN
into
her son’s bassinet, trying to decide what name would fit him. After watching Omar chase Derrick down and collar him, she knew she’d better humor him by giving her son a name.
Still she was leery of the prospect that Omar would eventually view her son as a threat and eliminate him before he had a chance to make an attempt to overthrow the male that killed his father. Not that she would even raise her son with the idea that his father was some kind of noble male. Derrick was undeserving of an honorable legacy.
“You should consider Arabic names,” a hard, feminine voice said. “Omar would like it, not that it will matter to him. My Tor will do anything to ensure the prince’s safety and well-being.”
Anise frowned at the female. “Who are you?”
“Sorry. I am Tor’s Lykata, Yara.”
“You’re a female.”
The Lykata laughed, the sound husky and sensual. “I’d hope so. My Innaani would definitely have an issue if the next time my Rut hit we couldn’t have our own cub.”
“You’re married?”
“Yes. Jazmir—we call him Jaz—is Tor’s Tukata.”
Anise’s brows descended farther down as she tried to process how a male of any worth not only let a female take the leading role in protecting their leader, but allowed his wife to rule over him. The Alesers were more like their animal cousin in the regard that the females did not rule over the males. She found herself being instantly jealous of Omar’s Lykata.
“You are angry. What can I do to ease your mood, Nabila?”
“You can’t do anything to change the fact that I am queen only in title. You are a protector of the Tor. You have more power than I do already. I am to be nothing more than a bearer of children for the throne.”
Yara’s features became carefully blank. “Is that what you believe? You’d think so little of my Tor?”
“I don’t know a damn thing about him.”
The female nodded and went to the window, staring out into the rising sun before she turned back around and faced Anise again.
“Omar has moments of being overwhelmingly intense. He cares deeply for those he is charged to watch over. His rule is absolute, and when challenged… well, it’s best not to have to witness that. He is the Rocky that he was trained to be. I will tell you that anything you have witnessed here is not even close to the lengths he is willing to go to ensure that you are taken care of, nor is it to the limit that he will go to ensure that you are happy and living a fulfilled life.
“For the first few months he was in Egypt after the Blue-Oconee wedding, he was brutal. His mood fluctuated randomly and rapidly. Neither Jaz nor I could discern the cause until the night Omar came to us and told us plainly that his mate was here and he was coming to get you. He was going to take you back. That was his plan until he spoke with Tepinok Ronan and realized—a male missing his mate doesn’t generally think clearly—that taking you wouldn’t get rid of Derrick; therefore, he decided to take over the pride. It was his only choice to ensure that you and your son remained safe and healthy.
“And before you doubt that Omar has any attachment to your son, give him a chance to show you what you will not understand simply from his words. Please, Nabila. That is all I ask of you despite not having the right to ask anything of you. Can you do that for me?”
Anise could tell that the female was trying to placate her with stories of Omar and trying to infuse some sense of understanding in her, but she could tolerate her insistence for the moment.
“You mentioned something about an Arabic name. Any suggestions?”
“I am partial to Zavier or Khalif. And don’t worry, I intend to wait until I meet my child to decide on his or her names. I have no attachment to either of those names.”
Anise laughed and looked back at her son. “Are you a Zavier or Khalif, young one?”
The boy just stared back at her, but he’d scrunched up his face when she’d said Khalif.
“Thank you, Yara. I think I have a name. As for Omar, I understand your loyalty to your Tor. He is my mate, which is beyond my control, but I will not sacrifice my son’s safety for a male I barely know. I will try to give him a chance to prove he offers my son no harm, but I will not leave my son unguarded based on the word of those loyal only to him.”
“That is all I can ask of you. Tor offers you no harm. And it would harm you to take your child from you. That harm would be irreparable, and no one would blame you if you fought your Soul to remain apart from its mate. Still, my Tor is an honorable male. He lives the Cannons as well as any Rocky. Honor is his guiding force, and nothing is as dishonorable as a broken word, especially a word broken to those of the Order.” Yara paused and glanced around the room. “Would you like something to eat?”
Before she could stop herself, Anise nodded.
“I will be back in a little while. Tor is taking care of an incident or I would have to educate him on the treatment of his mate.” Yara made her way to the door. “I would say that you could venture out of here, but the female loyal to Derrick tried to free him earlier. They failed, but we are taking a closer look at all pride members to assess their loyalty to Derrick. It is safer for you and your son to remain here.”
“That’s fine. And as for loyalty, Eryka is by far the most loyal. She wanted to be First Wife. The honor could have been hers if it were up to me, but Derrick didn’t find her appealing beyond her ability to keep an eye on me.”
Yara laughed. “Well, you have no worries with Tor. He is like my Innanni. There is only one for them, though according to my Jazmir, it’s because females are more trouble than they are worth when you gather them up in droves, which is fine by me. I don’t share well.”
Anise flashed Yara a small smile. “I don’t either.”
“Then our Tor is the male for you.” She opened the door. “I will return in a little while. Zareb Gary should be back with the fresh meat we asked him to get.”
Anise nodded and turned back to her son, who was still sleeping peacefully, and tried to imagine the impractical lie where Omar accepted her son as his own, where Zavier would grow into the prince of the pride and one day rule in Omar’s steed. She couldn’t see why any male would do that, why Omar would honor her son when—should they marry—he would likely gift her with sons of his own.
* * *
O
mar stepped into the room to see Anise studying her son. Her mind was so intent on the baby that she hadn’t noticed either his not-so-quiet entrance or the smell of the food he’d carried in.
“You’re getting sloppy, Rocky,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts.
She swung around and leveled a 9mm at his chest while giving him a cold smile. “I’ll never be that sloppy, Tor.”
He nodded and gestured to the small sitting area where he placed the tray of food. She eyed the plate of chicken masala and fresh green beans warily.
“Who made that?”
“I did.”
“You cook?”
“Yes, why?”
“Males don’t do the cooking here. What did Amy say?”
“The one weirdly fascinated with the kitchen?”
“Yes. She had to beg Derrick to configure it in a way that would allow her to cook for him the way he wanted to eat.”
“I told her that I would cook your meals until I received an oath from her following the Challenge. Until then, with the exception of the Rockys and my Lykata and Tukata, I trust no one with your safety.” He motioned her to sit at the table. “How are you feeling? Do I need to have Ronan check you?”
“I’m fine. Sore, but I don’t imagine it’s anything unusual, and it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Omar nodded and walked back to the door. “I’ll be back in a little while. I need a shower before I greet the Alakes and Zarebs arriving in a few hours. Have you chosen a name?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Eat and relax. I’ll send Yara back for the tray if I get tied up.”
Anise nodded, and Omar left the room to find his Lykata, who stood in the hallway where the cells were kept.
“Are you relieving Trent?”
She nodded. “He needed to go to the bathroom. I want him to eat, but he refuses to leave ‘his post’ until given the order by you. The boy hasn’t slept since that short stretch of sleep we had in Colorado. He is a child, Tor.”
Omar sighed. If only he could still view Trent as a child.
Trent may be a child in age, but he was far wiser than any nine year old had any right to be. He was definitely more serious than any child should be. It was for that reason he wouldn’t force the future Rocky—and there was no doubt in Omar’s mind Trent would join the Order once he made it through his First Shift—with a forced timeout. Omar had to respect Trent’s capability to know his own limits.
“Trent is a child in age only, Yara. I wish I could say otherwise, but he is not being raised to be just another child. He is a Rocky in the making. Childhood has graced him in age only. Mikko Wayne intends to leave a legacy behind in his only son, and that legacy requires his son shed the whims of childhood sooner than you or I understand.”
“That’s… sad. Where is his mother?”
“Dead,” Trent’s small and eerily cold voice replied. “My mother died giving birth to me. My duty as her son is to honor her sacrifice by being mighty, becoming the strong male she sacrificed her life for. Anything less misuses the life she gave me a chance to live.”
Omar nodded, but he didn’t miss the fact that the words seemed rehearsed—that Trent was merely repeating words he’d heard often enough to know by heart. Thinking back to the speech Trent had given earlier, he realized the boy didn’t—or rather couldn’t—understand everything he was saying. He’d simply adopted the words he’d been told over and over as truth.
Fuck.
The kid would grow up to be the ruthless warrior Mikko Wayne wished of him, but at the sacrifice to his psyche. No child should believe they are the catalyst that killed a parent.
Omar met Yara’s gaze and shook his head to tell her to drop the subject. While he hated what Mikko Wayne was doing to his son, he doubted there would ever be an appropriate time or place to try and salvage Trent’s broken childhood.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked.
“No.”
“I’ll be back with a sandwich. Is that okay?”
Trent nodded. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”
Yara left, but not before Omar let her know to grab the tray from Anise’s room. He was going to grab his clothes and shower in the bathroom Ronan was using.
AF
TER GETTING MORE INFORMATION
from Omar regarding Derrick’s attempt at escape the night before, she’d climbed into bed and slept, only vaguely aware that Omar never climbed into the bed with her. Part of her was disappointed at the distance between them despite being the one who put it there. She wanted to believe that Omar meant her son no harm, because she was just as tired of the Longing as he had to be.
Anise tamped down her thoughts about the desire she felt for her mate and dressed in a pair of black pants with a white and black top. She wrapped her son in a blanket in the same colors after dressing him in all black. She may not care for Derrick, but she wouldn’t disrespect Goddess Lelah when she came to claim his soul. And the goddess would claim Derrick. The male just wasn’t enough of a fighter to beat a Rocky.
She turned to the door as it opened, and an Aleser she’d only glimpsed from the window walked into the room.
He had skin like lightly creamed coffee and a body carved for vengeance and a face equally full of masculine ridges. His hair was pulled away from his face in neat dreads.
“Nabila,” he said, his voice rich and smooth like his skin. “My name is Jazmir. I am Tor Omar’s Tukata. Tor has tasked me with escorting you to the Challenge. Do you need me to carry anything for the prince?”
“No, thank you. I have everything.”
He gave her a curt nod and led the way from the room.
When they arrived in the throne room, she nodded to Ulryk, God of Kings and Queens, and Nivar, God of all Gods, before looking around the room at those sitting below the raised edge of the dais. She bit back a relieved smile at the sight of her brothers in attendance. Gary was near the front with his own Lykata—a male she could barely tolerate—and the male’s son, who served as Gary’s Tukata. He looked at her with guarded hope, which probably stemmed from their talk the day before.
She ignored him and turned her attention to her other brothers. They were Alakes and Zarebs in their own areas, their leadership spanning across most of the Aleser territories.
Omar stepped forward and led her to a comfortable chair to the side of the main stage where Derrick’s throne had been. He nodded to his Lykata and Tukata, and they stepped to either side of her.
“Many of you know why I have gathered you here on this day,” Omar announced, drawing the attention of the few who weren’t related to her. “I am here to issue an official Challenge to Tor Derrick for leadership.”
A Zareb from the west coast stood up—against the muted advice of her brother Brad, who was Alake of the area—and stepped forward.
“What makes you able to circumvent the way we have set up takeovers within our pride?”
“As I am Tor, I don’t have to challenge those under me in rank. Unless you feel like giving Lelah another body today, I suggest you take your seat.”
The male made an indignant sound, but Brad cracked his fist against the floor. “Sit or I will be more than willing to make you.”
Anise shivered. Brad’s voice was like her father’s, deep and commanding. The tone alone dared the Zareb to disobey. Brad relished nothing more than the punishment of those who refused to bend, but apparently the male knew this because he quickly complied. He may not know Omar, but he knew her brother well enough to know Brad wasn’t making an idle threat.
Omar nodded to Brad and turned his attention to Ulryk, who stood off to the side, picking at his nails with the blade of his god sword. The god couldn’t look any more bored if he tried.
Ulryk’s gaze landed on Omar, and with a smirk, he stepped forward and claimed the attention of the room.
“We are gathered here today to mark the Challenge of Tor Derrick, leader of the US pride, and Tor Omar, leader of the African pride. Tor Omar, as you know, seeks to take over the US pride. The triumphant one in this Challenge will retain the leadership of the US pride. Should Omar prove victorious, the leadership of the North African pride will be given to the acting Tor in the Egyptian region.” Ulryk waved Omar forward. “Where is your Challenger?”
Omar waved Ronan and Luke forward, and they came into view, guiding Derrick into the area which had been cleared of furniture. Derrick was bound with god cuffs—shackles made of Gardinian ore that, according to legend, not even the gods themselves could break should they be bound by them, because the cuffs had the ability to suppress their powers.
“Reluctant?” Ulryk asked.
“He tried to run this morning.”
The withering look that Ulryk cast Derrick caused the male to visibly shrink behind Ronan’s broad shoulders. The Tepinok, second-in-command, of the Blue-Oconees shrugged Derrick out of his shadow and led him to stand in front of the God of Kings and Queens.
“I should allow Tor Omar to have your leadership because you dishonor us all with your cowardice. You wear the helm of leadership, but embrace none of its attributes. Your father was wrong to bequeath you the throne, but that is in the past, and nothing can be done to mend his erroneous decision. I will not deny Tor Omar his rightful Challenge, as he has conducted himself with honor.
“You have been allowed more courtesies than most would have in a takeover. You stand before me clean of body and recently fed. It appears he desires a fair fight. Unfortunately, ill-matched opponents lend themselves to lopsided fights.” Ulryk gestured towards the cuffs on Derrick, making them vanish before he turned to face Omar. “You may engage.”
Both males immediately partially shifted into their Lycan form. Their nails grew to include the longer and sharper claws of their animal cousins and their canines elongated into lion fangs meant to tear into muscle and take flesh from their competitor.
Derrick snarled at Omar, but instead of engaging her mate, he turned and growled, the power of his growl snaking around the room. Anise smothered a growl as the power hit her scoring over her like sandpaper, trying to compel her, as it was the rest of the Alesers of the US Pride, to bend to his will. The need to obey disappeared when Omar cut off Derrick’s relatively weak compulsion with a swift punch to his throat and another well-landed punch to his gut.
Omar’s lips peeled back. “Coward.”
“Usurper.”
Instead of responding, Omar motioned to Ulryk as if to illustrate his god-approved right to take the throne. Derrick, sneered before he growled again.
One of the weaker lions in the rear of the room shifted and tried to make his way to the front. Ulryk merely tapped his god blade against the floor, which resulted in the floor cracking from the shockwave of power that cracked to a stop at the feet of the compelled male. The male whimpered and collapsed to the ground, his body shaking before he shifted back into his human form.
Anise almost laughed at the indignant rage on Derrick’s face when he glared at the god for his interference. Ulryk returned the glare, his displeasure evident in the way he gripped his sword. Anise was positive Derrick was tempting the god to forgo the challenge and end Derrick himself for trying to cheat.
Apparently Derrick noticed it too, because he returned his focus to his ignored opponent who stood off to one side with his arms crossed.
“Are you ready to fight?”
Derrick roared, shifted completely into his Aleser form, and leapt at Omar. Anise flinched when Omar, still mostly human, backhanded Derrick into a wall. She glanced back at his Tukata who covered his laugh with a cough. She flashed him a smile because she’s wanted to laugh at the comical way Derrick slid down the wall.
Omar ambled slowly to Derrick, his gait showing how little of a threat Derrick was to him. Rage flashed in Derrick’s eyes, his nostrils flared and he bared his fangs. In his arrogance, he roared, the power of it coiling around the room and forcing more than a handful of the pride to shift forms.
The pride remained in their place in the audience, but Anise could see that some of the weaker ones were fighting to keep their place in the crowd. Omar narrowed his eyes on the crowd, then Derrick before turning to Ulryk.
Using Omar’s distracted gaze to his advantage, Derrick attacked, but Omar simply punched him in the face and wrapped his hands around his muzzle, forcing him to submit while he spoke to the god.
“Ulryk, I must end this. It’s insulting to continue.”
Ulryk grinned at the way Omar held Derrick like an irritated parent. “Granted.”
Omar tossed Derrick aside and took the God of Kings and Queens’ extended blade. He spun to the side, narrowly avoiding a swipe of claws. He swung the god blade at Derrick’s passing form, opening a large wound in Derrick’s torso. Derrick stood on his hind legs, exposing his chest in time for Omar to bury the blade deep into his chest.
“Today I take from you the wealth that is Ulryk’s blessing. May my leadership be just and guided by the Noble Cannons. The hold of Gardas calls to you. Find peace, Tor. Blessed be in Gardas’ eternal hold.”
Omar guided Derrick’s body to the ground with more dignity than he deserved.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who felt such because, when Ulryk stepped forward, he kicked Derrick’s body from the raised dais which Omar had stretched him out on.
* * *
Omar stepped back and watched the body of the fallen Tor roll to a stop in front of the very Alakes he’d been trying to summon to his aid.
“I am disgraced,” Ulryk began. “He has managed to bring shame on my name. No king should fight with dishonor when given the chance to be righteous. I should hold his soul as punishment.” Ulryk scrunched his features in disgust and cursed. “Why would I wish that on myself?” He waved away his thoughts. “Tor Omar, you fought—if it could be called that—with grace befitting a leader. You have shown honor in the face of one who sought to deny you the same. Today I honor you with the full wealth of my blessing. May your rule be absolute, your reign be long, and your life lived according to the Cannons.”
Pain seared his core and radiated outward, seeming to coat each neuron in misery and knowledge. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, but it still hurt like hell. He remained on his feet despite his knees buckling. A Lycan who couldn’t withstand the pain of becoming a leader didn’t deserve to command the respect of those under him.
When the worst of the pain subsided, Ulryk placed his palm over his heart and amped things back up.
“As you embark on leading the US pride, you have relinquished control of the African pride to Khalil, who has served as Tor in your absence.”
Omar nodded and let the power of the North African pride scour its way across his already raw nerves. Ulryk steadied him, keeping him upright when the vacating power became too much.
“Your might has not diminished in my eyes, Tor. It’s a lot to ask of a mortal to endure two transfers of power. Go now, Tor, and honor the dead with a Passing he does not deserve…” Ulryk’s words dropped off as he began mumbling under his breath. “Lelah will arrive momentarily.” With that, the God of Kings and Queens left.
Ronan stepped forward and handed Omar a bottle of water. “I will prepare the space. Should I have the female brought up here to say her goodbyes to her Tor?”
Omar frowned before understanding dawned on him. “Yeah. Liam can bring her?” He turned to Anise and waved her forward. “Do you know if he has a Cloth of Mourning?”
“If he has one, I’ve never seen or heard of it. Ask Eryka; she might know.”
He nodded and smiled down into the inquisitive stare of the softly cooing baby. He turned his head at a shrill scream just as Ronan was carrying Derrick’s body to the platform.
Liam lost his hold on the female, and she ran to the platform. Her hands were still bound, so she held Derrick’s limp arm against her chest with both hands.
“Let me take off the cuffs, Eryka,” Liam said, keeping his voice calm.
Too bad the female didn’t respond in kind. Instead of graciously allowing Liam to unlock her cuffs, she turned her angry gaze to Anise and the son she held.
Omar rotated his body to stand in front of Anise. “Rethink whatever you are about to do, Eryka. I have shown you kindness once. I’m not in the mood for you to test my boundaries again.”
“My life is of no consequence, Tor. Your whore has stolen all the honor and dignity that my Tor ever had. She and that child should rest on that platform beside him.”
Omar growled, infusing the sound with the power that could force her into a painfully slow shift. She cried out, but Anise placed a hand on his forearm.
“Tor, her words mean nothing to me. They never did. She honors a male who saw her as nothing more than an overly compliant pest, a male with no romantic regard for anyone. Her feelings are misguided, and she is young. Let her have her words. She can’t hurt me with them; she never has. I don’t value her or her opinion of me enough to let it bother me.”
Omar nodded and let the power flow away. Eryka collapsed to the floor, her body only partially shifted and covered in sweat. She looked up at Anise with a glare.
“I Challenge you, Anise. You are a classless whore who set aside your loyalty to our Tor and let this… this… male infiltrate the compound and take over the pride. You are a woman of no honor, of no worth, and you deserve nothing short of ten thousand lifetimes in the eternal hold of Gronak.”
Anise shrugged and turned her attention back to Omar. “When should I honor her challenge, Tor?”
“You’ve just given birth, Rocky. Are you ready?”
His mate smiled when she heard the shocked gasp from Eryka. “I am more than ready.”
“I rescind my challenge.” She shook her head, her eyes darting around for a quick escape. “I will not fight a Rocky.”
“No,” Omar said. “A challenge accepted cannot be rescinded.”
“But—”
“In your grief and anger, you spoke when you were told to be silent. You disregarded me and my advice; therefore, I will not extend the courtesy I extended with my Lykata.” He turned his attention back to Anise. “It will have to wait until after the prince’s Naming.”
He walked away from the females, motioning to Yara to step up, not that he needed to. His Lykata and Tukata had already read his intent and became Anise’s deadly shadow before he’d taken more than two steps.