Chapter One
Thrasher impatiently paced the floor of his apartment that lay deep in the belly of Aukrabah. He’d been prepared to leave for Cuba since his initiation into the Bracadyte brotherhood several days before. But King Klause had preferred to wait on word from President Pratt.
It was no secret to Thrasher that the Cuban waters weren’t safe to travel at the moment. Cuba’s President, Ramone Mendoza, blamed the Americans for the Incola virus as much as he blamed the Bracadytes.
Luckily for Oz, his name had been kept out of the media as a known friendly to the dwellers of Aukrabah. He and Maria had been able to return to Cuba without incident.
The fact that Rueben Howell had infiltrated Cuban waters undetected remained a mystery to everyone. The ex-president obviously had more allies than the CIA was aware of.
Thrasher rubbed the back of his neck, his mind wandering back a few days to the initiation he’d gone through to blood bond with the Bracadytes.
Born Melvin Escabar, he’d been given the name Thrasher by the Bracadytes after he’d fought the Arkadians in the training room. The meaning of the word wasn’t lost on Melvin either. To move in a violent and convulsive way.
Melvin wasn’t so sure about convulsive, but he was more than aware of the violent streak that rode just below the surface in him at all times.
He’d grown up in a home where violence was the norm. Melvin had watched his father beat on his mother while in a drunken stupor more times than he cared to remember…until Melvin had become old enough to stand up to his old man—or so he’d thought.
Melvin’s father, Manny Escabar, had been drinking one night when Melvin attempted to intervene on his mother’s behalf.
Manny had beaten his son to the point, Melvin had to be hospitalized for his injuries.
June Escabar, Melvin’s mother, had begged Melvin not to tell the authorities who’d caused his injuries for fear of his father’s retaliation.
After sobering, Manny had pleaded with Melvin to forgive him for his abuse, claiming he would never drink again. That lasted all of a month.
Once the beatings to his mother started anew, Melvin began working out, growing stronger by the day until he’d become strong enough to take his father down. Manny eventually left and ended up in prison for killing a family of four while drinking and driving.
Melvin managed to finish school and eventually joined the service, where he remained until he’d been sought out by the CIA.
June never remarried. She’d lived out her days in Melvin’s childhood home until losing the battle with cancer a few years back.
Pain tightened Melvin’s chest with the memory of his sweet mother’s face. Though she’d always had a smile and kind word for everyone that she met, Melvin had seen the sadness that lurked in her eyes, heard the loneliness in her voice. No matter how strong she’d attempted to be, he knew she battled depression until she took her last breath. And for that, he blamed his father.
Melvin had hoped the rage he felt inside him would weaken over time, or possibly even dissipate altogether, but it only grew in strength. So, he’d channeled that violent emotion, reserving it for those who took advantage of the weak, until he’d become the best at what he did. And that was to fight.
“Thrasher?”
Tony’s voice, slipping through his mind, caught Thrasher off guard. And Thrasher was his true name, Melvin silently admitted. It had been since the moment he’d shared blood with the Bracadytes.
“Hey, Vaughn. What’s up?” Thrasher sent back.
“May I come in?”
Thrasher moved toward the foyer, still finding it strange to communicate with his thoughts. “Of course.”
The curtain opened and Tony stepped into the room. “There’s been word from President Pratt.”
Nodding toward one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Thrasher responded while waiting for Vaughn to sit. “It’s about time.”
“No shit,” Tony growled, spinning the chair around and straddling it. He rested his arms across the back. “Klause is calling a meeting in half an hour to inform the others.”
Thrasher’s eyebrows shot up. “How is it that you know and the others don’t?”
“Wrong place, right time.”
Staring at Tony without blinking, Thrasher took a seat and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Vaughn to elaborate.
Tony shrugged. “I happened to be with Braum when he was asked to take the call.”
“There’s now phone service in Aukrabah?”
“Just in the clinic and lab. But I’d venture a guess there will be service throughout the living quarters before too long.”
Thrasher let that sink in. “If Klause isn’t careful, Aukrabah will become tainted with mankind’s ideology.”
“Agreed,” Tony muttered, holding Thrasher’s gaze. “I’ve already spoken to Naura about it.”
“And what are her thoughts?”
Tony rolled his shoulders. “She thinks I should voice my concerns to Vaulcron and Hauke.”
“I think you should too,” Thrasher agreed. “It’s only right since Vaulcron is next in line to be king. And if something were to happen to Vaulcron, his son Regium would eventually be crowned. Either way, the talk needs to happen.”
Tony pushed to his feet. “You’re right. And I think we should do it today right after the meeting with Klause.”
“We?” Thrasher stood as well. “You’re family to them, Vaughn. I’m not so sure they would appreciate my interference.”
Tony pinned Melvin with a serious stare. “We’re both family to them. They see you as their brother, Thrasher, and so do I. Now, let’s go.”
Thrasher followed Vaughn into the hallway. “Have the Arkadians left yet?”
Annoyance sparked in Tony’s eyes. “Not yet, and I doubt they will leave without Kaspyn. She is, after all, their king’s daughter.”
The mere mention of the white-haired princess, thoroughly pissed Thrasher off. “What do you mean by that? Has she made plans to stay for a while?”
Tony shrugged. “I heard rumors that she intends on accompanying us to Cuba.”
Thrasher slowed his steps, his hand gripping Tony’s arm, forcing him to stop. “What the hell would she want to go to Cuba for? She’ll only get in the way.”
“She’s a warrior,” Tony stated in an agitated tone.
Growing angrier by the second, Thrasher retorted, “You mean she’s a princess. A spoiled rotten brat who gets what she wants by throwing her name around. Well, her name means exactly shit to me. And she’ll be going to Cuba over my dead body.”
Tony’s eyebrows lifted. “Careful, Escabar. If Kaspyn gets wind of what you said, she just might oblige you.”
“She can damn sure try.”
“Why do you hate her so much?” Tony questioned the moment the two of them began moving again.
Thrasher blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t hate her. I don’t particularly like her, but it’s not hate that I feel.”
“Really?” Vaughn murmured. “Then what is it?”
They arrived at the great hall, saving Thrasher from answering.
Gryke, Rykaur, and Braum stood at the entrance with solemn expressions.
“What’s with the long faces?” Thrasher muttered a second before stopping in front of them.
Rykaur jerked his gaze toward the doorway, saying without words what had them all in a mood.
Thrasher followed Rykaur’s lead, swinging his attention in the direction of the long table situated in the great hall. And there, seated to the king’s right, sat Kaspyn; her long blonde hair pulled back away from her face and her gaze locked on Thrasher.
It took Thrasher a moment to realize that he stared back. He plucked his Ray-Bans from the top of his head, put them on, and entered the room, taking a seat directly across from the beautiful yet infuriating Arkadian.
With a nod to the king, Thrasher returned his attention to Kaspyn, greeting her through clenched teeth, “Princess.”
“Parasite,” she shot back without blinking.
His shaft filled with blood. Son of a bitch.