Chapter Two

Ragnar

At times, Ragnar Helmsgaard disliked his wolf. Most of the time the creature remained amenable. He didn’t snarl or interfere. Not usually. But in the last year, his wolf had begun insisting on his way, demanding a mate. For some reason, his wolf insisted on coming to Andromeda. Ragnar went along with the plan with the idea of participating in the Blood Games, a set of brutal competitions the primitive planet of Andromeda offered every three Solarai.

Why not? He’d assumed his wolf was mistaken and simply restless, and at the very least, Ragnar could take the winnings and spend them on something he didn’t need. A new set of weapons. Or maybe a gift for his ailing mother. Birgitta wanted her three sons to find mates. She wanted grandchildren. If Ragnar didn’t return with a woman by his side, at least he could offer his mother a bauble or trinket. Maybe diamonds or pearls.

Everything had gone well, up to a point. He’d won the games, handily, defeating the favorite, a young Vrandarian sapling that, amusingly, went by the name of Thunder. In the final round, the hand-to-hand round, Ragnar pinned him and finally the man submitted. A hush fell over the stadium as the Andromedins stared in shocked dismay.

As Ragnar released the man, he scanned the quieted crowd and saw the leader of the Vrandarians, a fanged, hideous man with deep set eyes. Riddeal. A man who should be in prison, or worse.

He saw Riddeal motion to one of the judges and a brief conference was called. Moments later an announcement was made that Ragnar, because he could purportedly shift into other forms, was not eligible to receive the tournament prize. Members of the Parliament declared him the winner, but the prize money would go to the runner up, the Vrandarian.

Enraged, Ragnar headed into the stands, directly for Riddeal. Several Vrandarian soldiers formed a shield around Riddeal, and Andromedin police pulled their guns. Ragnar did not want to start an intergalactic fracas, mostly because he did not want to upset his ailing mother, so he backed down and offered to leave peacefully, provided the decision be reversed and he be awarded the prize.

He saw Riddeal smile and shake his head. The magistrate announced again the decision to award the prize to the runner up, and Ragnar lost control. He knocked three guards to the ground before six others were able to bind him and lead him out of the stadium, handcuffed. He could have easily shifted and killed them all, but in that moment the wolf within him whispered for him to relent. His wolf sensed his mate was near. And Ragnar somehow knew his animal was right. His mate was here, on Andromeda. All thoughts of his Vrandarian nemesis faded.

Ragnar allowed himself to be imprisoned in the jail that lay in the depths of Andromeda. He could have escaped, easily. Instead, he waited for a sign of his mate. What he got instead was a visit  from four sentries. During the night, they crept into his cell, armed with iron bars, intending to beat Ragnar and teach him a lesson. His survival instinct took over. He shifted and killed all four.

Two days later they sentenced him to Pendleton. A joke. The moment his transport left Andromedin airspace, he’d contact one of his brothers. They’d dispatch a ship to meet him at the penal colony and that would be the end of that. His wolf must have been mistaken. Ragnar had imagined one of the lovely Andromedin Nymphs might reveal herself to him. Perhaps she would come to his cell. But days had passed. Nothing happened. Now they wanted to send him to their excuse for a prison.

He smirked as five sentries entered his cell. Two shackled his hands and feet while a third kept his telum aimed at Ragnar. The other two stood circled behind him and waited.

“You’re going on a little vacation,” the sentry said, his mouth twisted into a smile.

“I hope they have better food,” Ragnar replied. “And women.”

“Your pilot is a woman, but she’s a Maiden.”

Ragnar shrugged as the men secured a padlocked belt around his waist and then bound his wrists to the belt. He could easily rip the restraints off, but his wolf told him to comply. Why that was, he couldn’t imagine. Perhaps today he would finally meet his mate, and his wolf knew this.

Andromeda had many acceptable females, all Nymphs. If he was destined to mate with a Nymph that was fine. The other females of Andromeda, Maidens they were called, were trained in warfare and medicine and scientific fields. They were small, wiry and athletic. If that wasn’t bad enough, they had their natural, feminine submissiveness trained out of them. They sounded more like adolescent boys than women.

The cuffs, clearly made for a smaller man, cut into his skin. The iron probably came from Minos, a planet that belonged to Ragnar’s people. Wouldn’t his brothers be amused to know he was bound by Minoan iron?

“We’re taking you to the docking station and loading you onto the prisoner transport,” the armed sentry said.

Ragnar nodded. “I’m ready for some more Andromedin hospitality.”

The sentry scowled. “Muzzle the prisoner.”

Ragnar remained still as the men struggled to attach a leather muzzle over his mouth. Two sentries stood on stools. The men worked to affix the gag. Their panicked breathing told him all he needed to know. They’d seen what he’d done to their companions and were terrified.

They should be. In the last few days, Ragnar had decided he despised the Andromedins. All of them. He wouldn’t kill these men because he wanted to leave their planet. Killing them would delay his departure. Once he was on the ship, he wouldn’t kill the pilot either, for a different reason.

Jaegarians didn’t harm women or children.

Over-powering the Maiden pilot would be simple enough. The sentries had gloated about the titanium bars on the ship’s cell. Did they think titanium would stop him from escaping? Let them delude themselves. By the time he was out of Andromedin airspace, the little Maiden pilot would be inside her own cell. He’d return to Jaegar with her as his prize and give her to one of his favorite generals if she was comely. Or put her to work keeping his chambers clean if she was plain.

The sentries finally finished securing the muzzle. It not only prevented him from speaking but it covered his entire head. He could see through eye holes but other than that he was hidden.

The sentry with the telum swung the cell door open. One of his companions shoved Ragnar toward the opening. Ragnar growled. The men scrambled away. The sentry with the telum raised it and pointed the barrel at Ragnar’s head.

“One wrong move,” he muttered. “And I’ll shoot.”

Ragnar nodded. He exited the cell and together the group moved down the darkened hallway. Chains clanking, Ragnar shuffled past the other cells. He heard other prisoners scrambling to the front of their cells to get a look at him. They pressed against the bars. Taunted and jeered. Some banged their tin cups against the bars. Others spat but were too far away to hit him.

The loudest catcalls came from a prisoner from the Bode Galaxy. The alien was set to stand trial for the murder of his parents. The first night Ragnar had spent in his cell, he’d heard him brag to another prisoner that he’d killed them over an inheritance. What kind of monster killed his parents?

“Look at the big brute now,” the Boder jeered. “Where’s your wolf when you need him?”

Ragnar shook his head. One of the sentries behind him jabbed him in the ribs, a warning not to respond. No one wanted more bloodshed, it seemed. Bloodshed never bothered Ragnar. If he had his choice he’d kill the alien right then. Killing him would remove the possibility the beast might be found innocent and set free.

The heckling faded as they drew closer to the jail’s portal.

One of the sentries hurried to the controls. “Permission to open jail portal. Removal of Jaegarian prisoner initiated.”

A voice crackled through the speaker. “State your destination.”

“The flight decks. Prisoner to be transferred to Pendleton.”

“Permission granted.”

The door lurched open, creaking on rusted wheels. A breeze wafted over him. Carried on the cool air was an intoxicating scent, soft, sweet and seductive. His breathing grew shallow. He curled his hands into fists and resisted the urge to explode out of his restraints. What was that fragrance? Closing his eyes, he shuddered. Deep inside, his wolf growled softly.