Kragen was under the influence of the strongest dose of triclosan yet, and his mate—his Andromeda—had just asked for a way to sever their bond.

It was the greatest shame a Leonid could experience. Almost never done. And no one, in living memory, truly knew how to sever a bond safely.

That was perhaps the only combination of circumstances that could have left him so ill prepared as to allow another human to approach without his awareness. So when he saw another human female, this one with hair lighter than his Andromeda’s, and a little shorter, standing in the cramped makeshift entrance to his hidden bedroom, he overreacted.

“Am I interrupting something?” the other human female asked, looking pointedly at the chains around Kragen’s wrists and midsection.

Kragen answered with a roar, rising off the bed and snapping the chains as though they were a child’s plaything.

The second female paled with fear, and worse, Andromeda placed herself between him and the second female. As if to protect the interloper.

“What is this?” he growled.

“What is this?” Andromeda answered, pointing at the broken chains around his feet. “You could just do that all along? What was the point of all of that?”

Kragen seethed. He was deliberately shielding his thoughts and feelings from Andromeda, although she had no way of knowing that. It would be easier for her if he did not encourage the bond between them to grow stronger. But it was not easy for him.

It was not easy to know that the woman you loved did not trust you. That she had seen into your deepest heart, and had found you wanting. She kept talking of “partnership,” but there was no way to share the burden of his sacrifice with a partner. Nor would he want to.

Let her think him a monster, then. Better that than to see her suffer.

He sneered at the chains at his feet, and rose to his full height.

“Those chains were a way to warn myself, in the event that my hunger overcame my honor,” he said. “Nothing more.”

That only seemed to anger his mate more.

“Then why did you sit there while I interrogated you?” she asked.

Kragen merely looked at her. He was done playing games.

“Maybe we can talk about that later,” Andromeda said, finally.

“Who is this?” he demanded.

“Um, hi,” the other female said. “My name is Kat. I was invited. Please don’t murder me.”

Kragen snorted.

“I am a Leonid,” he said. “We do not harm women. State your business, and explain how you came here. This is a place of hiding. It is dangerous.”

“Yeah, no duh,” Kat said. “That’s part of why I’m here. Now where’s the patient?”

The one called Kat raised a single eyebrow, and Kragen almost smiled. He could see why Kat was his mate’s friend. Another warrior spirit in a human female.

Then the meaning of her words sank in. He looked at Andromeda.

“What ‘patient’?” he growled.

It took only a few minutes to explain, and many more minutes for Kragen to calm himself down after the explanation. After he had passed out the previous night, Andromeda had contacted her friend Kat, who was a medical professional of some variety employed by the Alliance. She had told Kat about the triclosan, and about Rune. And now she was telling Kat about what happened when the kravok hunger turned to madness.

“Did you guys know anything about this?” Andromeda asked.

“This is above my pay grade,” Kat said, her voice hushed. “We knew the mating sickness was a sickness, obviously, but no one ever said anything about it being…dangerous.”

“Everything in life is dangerous,” Kragen said. “Especially love.”

He felt Andromeda’s eyes on him. He would not answer. The bond would only hurt her.

“Ok, well, what if we find Rune a mate?” Kat asked. “That’s got to be easier than drugging him, right?”

Again, Kragen snorted. He was losing his patience. This situation was growing untenable. He would be well to be rid of these complications, so that he could focus on his responsibilities.

And yet he could not shake the feeling of Andromeda. The way she had felt underneath him, her heart beating furiously under her breast, the mark on it burning just for him. He could not forget the taste of her.

Kragen rolled his massive shoulders, and dropped to the floor for a quick set of push-ups.

“Uh…” Kat said.

“To answer your question,” Kragen said, rising just as easily, his muscles barely feeling the burn from the exercise, “no. There has never, in all of Leonid history, been a documented case of a Leonid male returning from kravok madness. There are legends, but those are fairy tales. Kravok changes them. It is said that it is as though the hunger consumes the thing inside them that recognizes love.”

“Maybe that’s just because you execute them before they get the chance,” Andromeda said.

Kat looked first at her friend, then at Kragen.

“Ok, let’s put a pin in that,” she said. “For now we’ve got the drug.”

Kragen found himself staring at Andromeda again. She was deliberately not looking at him, and instead was looking at her friend, pretending to try to solve a problem with no evident solution.

She did not trust him. Even after what she had seen of his heart, she did not trust in him. Kragen told himself that was a good thing, that it was fortunate. But it felt like a great wound, like a vast wrongness in the universe that it was his duty to fix. It felt like he cared about the opinion of this human female above even his own sworn sacrifice.

No. That is the hunger lying to you.

Even if Kragen could heal the rift in the mating bond that had opened up between them, as every biological impulse told him to do, it would not change their circumstances. Andromeda would still be mated to a condemned Leonid warrior. And even if the queen had mercy on him, Kragen suspected there were other Leonids—Leonids whose loyalty was in doubtm who had fought on the other side of their civil war—who would not.

“Why are you here, female Kat?” Kragen asked. He let his big voice roll out and over the two human females, felt them both respond to it, in different ways. He was done being gentle.

So was Kat.

“I’m here to see that my friend is ok,” she said, her eyes glowering at him. “And to give you this.”

Kat reached into her large shoulder bag, the sort many human females seemed to have and which contained, on average, more things than Kragen thought physically possible. She produced several vials of a green liquid.

The human female called Kat had his attention.

“Andie told me you were extracting triclosan from detergent, and that’s the sedative you’re using to deal with the effects of the mating sickness,” Kat explained, setting the vials down on the nearest surface, which was a stack of wooden pallets. Then she looked at him plainly. “That is an incredibly inefficient process that you’re using. I brought you some clean triclosan extract that I made in the lab today, and some reagents you’ll need to make better extractions from detergent. And I’ll teach you how to do it using…do you even have a hot plate?”

Kat did not seem to approve of Kragen’s living situation. He almost smiled. Some things did not change across galaxies.

“Kat is a smartypants,” Andromeda said. “She’s going to be some sort of biology chemistry sciency superstar.”

“An MD/PhD, if I can pay for school,” Kat said. “But right now I’m a nurse. So, ok, enough chit chat—where’s my patient?”

Kragen looked between the two women. Neither of them appeared to be what the humans called “joking.” Incredible.

Kragen shook the last of the useless chains from around his arms, not caring where they crashed to the cement floor, and ran a hand through his short dark hair. The stubble on his face was starting to grow in dark; the last of his Leonid metal razors had grown dull, and human metal was useless against a Leonid beard. Everywhere around him were the signs that this gamble he had made with his life, with the future of his people—it was coming to an end.

“No,” he said. “You have no patient here. You will leave. You will not say anything to anybody about what you have been told or what you have seen, because you know it would bring danger to your friend. And you will let me go about my business.”

“Absolutely not,” Kat said.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Andromeda said at the same time.

Kragen turned and locked eyes with Andromeda. He could order her. But he was truly not sure if she would obey an order that did not involve her sexual submission. The physical bond was one thing, but the spiritual bond…

She did not trust hm.

“Lubcha,” he said. “I am in command here. And I will not brook dissent.”

The anger in his mate’s eyes wounded him.

“Well, you are not in command of me,” Kat said suddenly. “And I won’t be bullied. If you won’t let me see the patient, I won’t teach you how to extract clean triclosan, and you’ll both eventually develop tolerances. And then we’ll all be screwed, right?”

Kragen caught the look that Andromeda shot her friend. He could not interpret the hidden language of females, even among Leonids, but something told him they had a plan, and Kat had improvised something.

Interesting.

“Human female,” Kragen said, and walked, in a few strides, across the wide warehouse floor, until he stood in front of Kat, towering over her. She intrigued him. She was afraid, but she did not care. Much like Andromeda. “If you force my hand, I will erase your memory of this day, and the last. I can do this. Many Leonids can, but I am stronger than most. I can take this day, as it lives in your mind, and…”

Kragen put out his hand, palm open—and then closed it.

“It is not a nice thing to do to anyone,” he said, his voice low. “But I am not a nice man. I am a Leonid warrior. And I have made certain vows.”

Kat did not say anything. She looked up at him, unblinking, while her pupils dilated, and her pulse increased. Kragen did not like to frighten her. But what was in the basement was far more frightening than him.

And then suddenly Andromeda stood in front of him, between him and Kat.

“No,” Andromeda said, so quietly that Kragen did not understand how her voice seemed to ring in his ears. “You won’t. Because you promised not to hurt me, Kragen. That was another vow. Look at me and see whether or not you’d be breaking it by erasing her memory.”

Kragen did not need to look into those beautiful brown eyes to know that he had already broken it. Andromeda was hurt by merely the suggestion.

Kragen was also a commander in the Leonid Royal Guard. He had studied tactics, strategy, and war his entire life. And even he was impressed by the tactics on display here—he had been defeated by an effective pincer movement led by his own unclaimed mate.

A warm thrill raced down his spine and into his cock as he looked into Andromeda’s eyes. Why did this make him want her even more?

He growled, loud enough to fill the room.

“Very well,” he said. “But you will not be unaccompanied. And if I give the order to leave, you will obey without question, and you will run, as far as you can, as fast as you can. Understood?”

The women nodded.

The hunger must be consuming Kragen’s own mind. He was about to take his mate down to the basement.

Down to see Rune.