Kragen could smell Andromeda all over the house at the end of the road. Its siding was pink, and a weeping willow twisted over the fence, mirroring the shape of the lacy curtains that hung in the windows. Her scent was everywhere.

It was driving him mad.

“You possess a key?” he said.

“Of course,” she said, and turned to dig into the satchel she called her “purse.”

Kragen looked at her again, his eyes devouring as many of her curves as possible. Her hair was still wet, brown locks stuck to her wet cheeks, and though she had put his jacket back on, he could still see the tops of her breasts glisten with rain where her green uniform had been torn during their flight to this house.

With a growl, he looked away. Too tempting.

“I will secure the property,” he said. “Go inside. Now.”

He watched her unlock the door and disappear inside before he took off on a circuit around the house. Kragen could feel the triclosan burning still in his veins, and he was grateful for it. It was the only thing keeping him from claiming Andromeda. As he walked around the edge of the property, looking, sensing, for more “idiots,” his large frame brushing against the lowest of the tree limbs, he wondered how long he had until the dose of triclosan wore off completely. It had already started to fade.

Would he have the control of a true Dominant once it wore off? Or would he succumb to kravok? No Leonid could resist it forever. That was why they were here, on this pretty blue planet. That was why they needed mates.

If he felt the madness of the hunger overtake him, he would leave her, no matter the consequences. Kragen would not risk condemning Andromeda.

He climbed back on the porch from the other direction, satisfied that the location was reasonably secure. It wouldn’t be for long. Eventually their bond would be too strong to go unnoticed. Out on the street he’d been able to smell her arousal, and it had nearly undone him. He’d wanted to bite into her throat, nip the skin, drink of her kuma. He wanted to slam himself inside her, his fangs and his cock.

Kragen paused, his hand engulfing the tiny human doorknob. His plans had been carefully laid out before he’d defected from the Leonid fleet with his bounty. He had always known he would be sacrificing himself on some level, but it had been worth it. But none of those plans accounted for finding a mate.

Incredible. Andromeda was never part of his plan, but she was now his responsibility. And now, all of the things that Prince Rhazian and Queen Vana had decided to keep from the humans, even as they negotiated the Alliance treaty—before, Kragen had understood. There were things the humans did not need to know. Things that would only make the process more difficult, and would not change the outcome. The Leonids wanted mates. They would have them.

The Leonids needed mates.

The humans did not need to know that Kragen’s species fed off of kuma, and the humans were compatible, by some quirk of genetics. To humans, kuma might translate as “life force,” or something similar. But to a Leonid, it just meant “blood.”

They did not need to know that the Leonids had certain abilities, especially when feeding off of kuma.

They did not need to know that they hungered for it.

That mated pairs sustained each other.

And most of all, they did not need to know what happened when a Leonid began to starve. The eventual madness of the mating hunger was not something they should ever see.

Kragen himself had been doubtful that a Leonid-human mating bond would ever be anything other than a meeting of these physical needs. The humans had seemed, to him and to others, fundamentally weak, both physically and mentally.

But Andromeda was neither.

Despite her physical frailty, she defied Kragen, regularly. Not defied—she would obey a rightful order. She had. The thought made Kragen hard again, and he dropped his hand from the door.

Challenged. She challenged him. She secretly had a warrior’s spirit, like a Leonid. He liked that about her. He liked that she showed mercy to those who did not deserve it. She was better than him.

And she had risked all for family. Her “grandmother”—a matriarch. Kragen liked that most of all.

Yes. If circumstances were different, Andromeda Knowles would make an excellent mate. She would have had his heart.

There was no use thinking about it.

But he might have stood out in the dark a moment longer, thinking about it, if the door in front of him hadn’t opened suddenly inward.

“So you’re Kragen?”

In front of him was an old woman, her hair white and worn short and, Kragen believed, “styled,” her hands knotty with blue veins, her weight balanced on what he believed to be a “walker.” But her blue eyes danced at him.

This was the matriarch.

“My name’s Betsy, but you can call me Gramzy for now,” the old woman said. “What on Earth are you doing outside on the porch? Get in here.”

Kragen nodded, unsurprised that Andromeda’s matriarch would be so utterly unfazed by the sudden appearance of a Leonid on her porch, and ducked his head so he might fit under the low doorframe. He entered the house that smelled of home.

* * *

Kragen was not satisfied with securing the outside of the property, though this seemed to amuse “Gramzy.” Andromeda seemed upset with him again, and had gone off to “freshen up.” This left Kragen alone, mostly, to check the house.

“You think someone is hiding in my linen closet?” Gramzy said from behind him. Without turning around, Kragen knew the matriarch was smiling.

“Perhaps,” he said. He gave his own, smaller smile. He liked this matriarch. She reminded him of the queen.

But he was also happy with what he saw in this closet. Truthfully, it was more of a small room. There were many cases of common household supply items, many more than two women living in one house could possibly need.

“I buy in bulk,” Gramzy said from behind him, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “You’ve got to be prepared.”

But Kragen’s attention was on several cases of antibacterial detergent, each stacked on top of the other.

He recognized antibacterial detergent from his research. It was one of the readiest sources of triclosan.

“They had a sale,” Gramzy said.

This time Kragen turned. He had an idea. He could use this. He…

He saw that Gramzy had winced slightly.

“You are in pain,” he said.

It was a mere statement of fact. Even with the dulling effects of triclosan, Kragen still would have been able to sense pain in his mate, and this matriarch was his mate’s kin. He could sense Gramzy. Not like he could sense Andromeda, but enough.

Kragen looked into Gramzy’s light-blue eyes, and saw.

“You know, don’t you?” she said, after a while.

The pain in Kragen’s heart was sharp and sudden. He did not know this woman enough to grieve for her, but she was his mate’s matriarch. He already loved her, in a way. And Andromeda’s pain would be considerable when Gramzy died.

“Andromeda does not know?” he asked.

“No,” the older woman said, and turned back towards what she had called the living room. She waved off Kragen’s help, even though he could have carried her with one finger if he wanted, but she did allow him to help her into her favorite chair. Once she was settled, she fixed Kragen with those same eyes.

“No, Andie doesn’t know,” she repeated. “And that’s the way I like it.”

“You cannot protect her forever,” Kragen said. “And I believe that Andromeda would want to know.”

“And you know her so well already?” Gramzy said, raising an eyebrow. But then she laughed again, a big laugh for a small woman. “Well, you’re right, anyway. But I have to tell her in my own way.”

Kragen nodded. He would not argue that. He sat on the couch next to Gramzy’s armchair, his huge frame nearly buckling it as he squatted low so that he might look this matriarch in the eye again.

She laughed.

“That cannot be comfortable,” she said.

“It does not matter.”

Gramzy matched his gaze, and her eyes began to dance again.

“What is it about you?” she asked. “Andie told me all about how you rode in like a knight without any armor to protect her from a bunch of idiots, and believe me, I’m grateful for that. But you’re obviously a fugitive, too. And yet for some reason I don’t mind it.”

Kragen said nothing. But perhaps he smiled a little.

This was a good matriarch.

“You’re not going to volunteer much on your own, are you?” Gramzy said. “Well, there are some things I need to know if you’re going to be my granddaughter’s ‘mate’.”

Now Kragen smiled. He liked the idea that there was someone who made Andromeda’s happiness her responsibility. He liked that very much.

And Gramzy was so unperturbed by the idea of a Leonid mate for her granddaughter, Kragen hated to disabuse her of that notion. But he must.

“I will not be Andromeda’s mate,” he said. “But I can show you whatever it is you might like to know about me. Anything important. If you will allow me to remove some of your pain.”

Gramzy blinked her blue eyes at him, much like Andromeda had blinked at him.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” she said.

“It is not something that can be explained with words,” Kragen said. “Give me your hands.”

He could feel the connection to Andromeda as soon as he took Gramzy’s small, wrinkled hands in his own, and through that, he could nurture a small connection to Gramzy herself. Kragen concentrated. He opened himself up, the kuma flowing between them. And he fed his mate’s matriarch.

Gramzy’s eyes opened wide, and Kragen knew, vaguely, what she was seeing. You could not exchange kuma without exchanging something of yourself, too. Gramzy would see, in some ways, down to his very heart, but he would take away as much of her pain as possible.

This was acceptable.

The space between their hands glowed briefly, and then it was done. Gramzy stared at him for another moment, and then she laughed out loud.

“Mr. Kragen, I would call that a miracle, but I think it was more than that,” she said. There were tears gathering at the bottoms of her eyes. “Just like this apparent bond you have with my granddaughter. You Leonids are a bit more than meets the eye, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Have you healed me?”

Kragen frowned. It was cruel not to explain before. Now he must disappoint her.

“I have merely taken the pain away,” he said. “It is possible I might be able to heal you if my mating bond with Andromeda were consummated—”

One of Gramzy’s eyebrows went higher than Kragen thought it was possible to go.

“Well, what’s stopping you?” she said. “You don’t have to tell me the details, mind.”

“Matriarch,” Kragen began. This was difficult. He had chosen not to explain this to Andromeda, because he did not wish to endanger her. But something told him Gramzy would not be satisfied with a simple “no.” And she was his mate’s matriarch, to be treated with respect.

It was an impossible situation. He growled. Gramzy narrowed her eyes.

“I am a condemned male,” Kragen said, his voice rough with feeling. “I have done something unforgivable, and I will continue to do it as long as I am able. I am unrepentant. That is why I am in hiding. If the Leonids find me, they will execute me, and they will be right to do it. That is why I have not claimed my mate—I refuse to condemn her, too.”

Gramzy was unfazed.

“Condemned?” she asked.

“My end will be an ugly one,” Kragen said, and he would not say more about it. “The pain for my mate would be unbearable. And then when I die…”

“And you haven’t told her this because why?”

Kragen leaned back on the tiny couch, nearly crushing it, and regarded the matriarch. They were both hiding things from Andromeda, for perhaps similar reasons.

“Because it is dangerous knowledge,” he finally said. “If I can find a way to sever the bond, or if I die before it is unconsummated, her suffering will be minimal, and I can hide her existence from the Leonids and the Alliance. If I cannot…”

He left the thought unfinished. Kragen truly did not know what would happen if he failed. That was why he would not fail.

Gramzy shook her head slowly, both out of disapproval and, Kragen saw with a smile, the desire to feel how much easier it was to move her neck now.

“Whatever you did,” Gramzy said, looking right at him, “I know you’re a good man, now. I know it, more than I’ve known most things. I’m an old woman, and I’ve lived a good life, and I don’t need a few more years at the price of my granddaughter’s happiness. Don’t you dare tell her you could maybe heal me if she puts herself on the chopping block.”

“I will not.”

“Good. Now, don’t look so glum,” Gramzy said, leaning back comfortably in her chair. Her eyes danced again. “Maybe it will work out after all.”

“What will work out?”

Andromeda’s voice came from the top of the stairs. Even if he had not been able to sense her, even at a distance, even on triclosan, Kragen would have known she was angry.