Vander opened the file Jag set on the desk beside the one already open and stared at both, his brows knotted. “These deaths seem to be growing in frequency along with the number of raids on the outlying villages. Even the desert tribes have reported attacks.”

“Thefts?” Jag asked.

Damen shook his head. “No. Kidnappings.” He shrugged, but the motion was frustration, not dismissive. “Makes sense. If most of the women in the city and in the palace are sick or dying, a premium goes up on the black market for females.”

Vander slammed his hand on his desk. “Trafficking is not to be abided! Not while I breathe. We need to stop this before it becomes an epidemic.”

“It already is,” Jag replied.

He looked at his brother. “I’m talking about the kidnappings, Jag. Not whatever illness is claiming our females.”

Jag regarded Vander’s angry face. “That’s what I’m talking about. You haven’t been out there, Vander. I have. Our men, warriors and merchants alike, are ready to mutiny. They blame you for what’s happening.” He motioned Vander and Damen to the table with the model of Galaxa’s regions and terrain.

“We’re here. At the center of the Palladian Oasis. Our vast resources feed not only the palace and the surrounding city, but the outlying rural villages as well, though not more than twenty leagues past the last village is the sand ocean. The only people who live and trade in that forsaken wasteland are the nomadic tribes. They’re fringe at best, as you well know. They only pledged their allegiance to the House of Kasaval because we’ve historically supplied them with food, water and medicine, yet allowed them to remain semi-autonomous.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, Jag.” Vander exhaled, dragging his hand through his hair again.

His brother held up one hand. “I know that, Vander, but I need to talk this out, so bear with me, okay? Have a little patience.”

Damen grinned at the sibling growls. “I feel like this needs popcorn. Are you making a point or do I need to referee?”

“Popcorn? I haven’t had that since the last time I took a transport to Nova Aurora. It’s the one thing Alyx’s new bride has stocked from Earth. That and chocolate.” Jag smacked his lips at the memory of the hot, buttery goodness. “You should try the two together. Yum.”

“Kari had some brought from Nova last week along with the hotties for your brother’s line of possible mates. She’s a saint for thinking of it for us,” Damen answered.

“Us?” Jag snorted. “Sorry, dude, but if those fluffy white kernels came from Kari, they were for me, not you. So, hands off.”

Vander stared at the two men. “Unbelievable. Now I know why you need to talk out your thoughts, Jag. It’s because you can’t focus on a simple course without going on a tangent, but you Damen? Damn.”

“All right. Jeez.” Jag rolled his eyes. “As I was saying before I was distracted—” he shot a look at his brother, “the nomadic camps, though semi-autonomous, still suffer sporadic raids from rogue cave-dwellers living in the Mirror Mountains. Our militia handles these periodic surges with no problem, but intelligence believes the increased frequency of the raids, not only on the nomads but on the outlying Palladian villages, is a result of collusion between the cave rogues and the warlords from the jungle.”

Vander’s eyes skimmed the model of his realm, particularly the desert and jungles separated by the twin mountain ranges. “Is this intelligence in the report you put on my desk?” Vander moved back to his chair and scanned the documents.

Damen flanked his side, studying the dossier as well. “Why wasn’t this sent to me?”

Jag slipped into a chair in front of the monitor and blew a casual kiss to Kari. “It was. The same report is on your desk as we speak.”

“So, what’s to stop my disgruntled warriors from joining the rogues and the jungle gangs?” Vander asked. “We need to do something.”

Jag and Damen looked at each other and then at the king. “As far as your men are concerned, it’s not what they have that’s the issue. It’s a question of what they don’t. Warriors have money. They have food and plenty of Sidaii wine. What they don’t have are women. Not even concubines to take the edge off,” Damen advised. “Their inner animals are caged and restless. It’s bound to get volatile.”

Vander threw his hand in the air. “We can’t just corral hundreds of women from around the star system and drop them in the middle of the Palladian capitol and tell the men have at it. It would make us no better than the rogues perpetrating the kidnappings in the outlands.”

“That’s not what I meant, Vander. If your warriors have hope there are mates to be found, women immune to whatever illness is affecting our own females, they would be more likely to stand with you rather than against you. Hope is what they need, but hope is a dangerous thing if you can’t deliver.”

Vander pursed his lips. “I’ve already said I would enlist the help of a matchmaker for my men.”

Jag shook his head. “This isn’t just about your men. That’s a good place to start, but it’s bigger than that. I think Damen is talking about all of Galaxa. Until we find out how and why this illness is affecting our people, you need to show every region there is hope.” He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Unfortunately, brother, you are fighting this battle on multiple fronts.”

“So, how do I fight, then?”

Damen clapped him on one shoulder and turned him toward the monitor. “You fight the battles you can win and move on from there. Take a mate. Even a skinny wishbone one will do the trick to show the Galaxan men there are women to be had.”

Vander’s jaw clenched and his eyes flared with emerald fire. A low growl, feral and menacing, came from the back of his throat and Jag’s eyes went wide.

“Jeez, bro. That creepy green shit just got real. What the hell?”

Damen nodded. “I take it back, Jag’s right. Whatever it is lurking inside you will not be satisfied with just anyone.” He gestured with his head toward the monitor. “You should know she asked me to send a transport to Nova Aurora to bring Ms. Wilder over.”

Vander’s gaze jerked to his chief. “Who?”

“Kari.”

He spared a glance for his brother and then looked back at his security chief. “When?”

“This afternoon.”

Brows knotted, the king spared a glance for the monitor before turning the full weight of his stare on Damen. “And you didn’t think to clear it with me?”

“What do you think I’m doing now?”

Irked, Vander frowned. “Good. Kari may have my ear and my affection, but she doesn’t run me or Galaxa.”

Amused, Damen met the king’s annoyed glare with a smirk. “So, what about Ms. Wilder? Do I fetch her? I vote yes, especially since your moody ass tells me you need to get laid and soon. And not by some Auroran stick figure.”

“I’m king, Damen. With the snap of my fingers I can have my cock serviced any time, day or night. I think we’ve gone beyond that.”

“You’re right. We’ve moved beyond that. All of us. We are in uncharted territory, Vander. Everyone knows you can have anyone you want, either on their back or knees, or both for that matter, but my guess is every position in the sex manual won’t help what’s prowling inside you. Let the elders squabble about the origins of that eerie glow in your eyes. If you ask me, I think it’s connected to you finding your mate. That mysterious light is somehow connected to your xenos. Who cares about its origins? Once that wildness surfaces, it will need a soft counterpart to temper its feral nature. At least, that’s what the archives allude to.”

Vander glanced at Kari again, the muscle in his cheek working overtime. “Where in the archives did you read all this?”

“Deep in the council records. The archives also describe the warrior king’s xenos as a savage cat. One that takes great chunks out of its prey, taking pleasure as the poor creature bleeds a slow death.”

The king’s jaw tightened even more and Damen put his hand on his shoulder. “You know something, don’t you?”

Vander shook his head. “Nothing for sure. Just nightmares. But they were just as you described.”

“Which part?”

The king’s face was a mask of concern. “All of it. The savagery of it was like nothing I’ve seen.” He eyed his friend. “I think you’re right. I think my xenos is rising, and if I don’t find a mate to check its viciousness soon, Galaxa will suffer. If it can happen to me, then it can happen to every warrior on the planet.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, the king eyed his friend, sparing a look for his brother. “Send for Ms. Wilder. In the meantime, I need to make a trip to the outlands and let them know they haven’t been forgotten. I want you both to accompany me to show House Kasaval is united in trying to stop the kidnappings, but also in trying to solve the mystery of why our women are dying. Maybe there’s something in the oral traditions of the nomadic tribes that can give us a clue.

“When do we leave?” Jag asked. “Remember, I just got back. Do I have time to shower and grab a decent meal?”

Vander nodded. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

“What about Ms. Wilder?” Damen asked.

The king spared a glance for the monitor and then turned to his chief. “Send for her. If she arrives before we get back, I’ll have Maddox entertain her until we return. She and I should talk.”

“Maddox entertain a woman like Gerri Wilder? But he’s older than dirt.” Jag laughed.

“He may be old, but he’s the best chamberlain any king could want. He’ll make her comfortable enough until we get back.”