The Healers' Warrior: The Brethren, #2

By Mary Newman

Bostel Rogell is one of the illusive Brethren, a brotherhood of the galaxies' most lethal men. He's also cocky, irreverent, foul-mouthed, flamboyant, and takes great delight in treating all the universe as if it were some grand joke.

Thurus and Zyphra have lost everything. Their family, their friends, their clan – everything – except each other. Twin Hashani who are powerful healers, they join Ubutu Clan and prepare to rebuild their lives from the devastation of the old. When they meet their mate they think maybe life is looking up. Except he's a royal jerk that isn't interested in allowing them anywhere near his heart.

They may look small and delicate enough they'd blow over in a stiff wind, but strength doesn't always show on the outside. When it comes to claiming and protecting their mate, Thurus and Zyphra are up to the challenge. If you're dealing with an arrogant, insufferable, gorgeous, sexy, mouth-watering, teasing, black-haired, blue-eyed, every-inch-a-man, male? Well, tough times call for tough actions and Bostel is going to find out he may have just met his match, or matches.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Newman
• Release date: Aug 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781533747679

Book preview

Prologue

The small boy known as Bostel ran as fast as his short legs could go. He ran from the blood, from the awkwardly posed body of his mother. Not that she’d been any more of a loving care giver than any of the other prostitutes who’d birthed an unwanted child from a pregnancy due to failed birth control methods that had no hope of working on all the races the pleasure house served.

Pleasure house. There had never been anything pleasant for Bostel found in that place. He’d been nothing more than an inconvenience, someone to send on odd errands to get him out of the way so his mother could get back to earning a living. The owners of the house would no longer tolerate his presence now that she was dead, the victim of the too exuberant rutting of a being her body had never been meant to accommodate.

He held to the shadows of the back alleyways until he came to the building he sought. He slunk through the unlocked back door, sneaking along the wall until he came to the stacked barrels in the corner and quickly squeezed into the space behind. Soon after he crouched in the hiding spot, a green skinned male walked past, casually dropping a paper bag on the topmost barrel. It was a familiar action. The owner pretended not to notice the small boy sneaking into his establishment, and Bostel pretended the bag fell into his lap.

He reached up with a grubby hand and eased the bag towards him until it fell in his lap, tearing hungrily into it to gobble the food. When the hunger pangs in his stomach were satisfied, he continued to crouch in his hiding place listening to the murmur of voices on the other side of the barrels. One conversation eventually caught his attention and he sat up to listen more carefully.

So you’re really going to take your son to the ass-end of nowhere to some temple?

It’s a vow I made when I left the temple. If I ever mated and had young, any sons would be taken to the temple for training before their eighth year.

I’d never be able to give up my son like that.

It will be a good life for him. He will receive training, be fed, provided a place to stay, companions to associate with. Better than wasting away on this rock trying to hack a living from its mines.

I wish you safe journey, then. When do you leave?

First thing in the morning. I’ve already purchased a transport for the journey. My mate and I will not be returning here. Once Salo is delivered to the temple, I have a contract to fulfill. It will pay well.

Bostel ventured to peek out from the barrels to view the speakers. One was pale and shabbily dressed, clearly a worker from one of the many mines that dotted the area. The other was dark, dressed in a dark colored loose fitting shirt and pants with crossed lacing around the legs going all the way to his knees.

A temple that took in small boys, trained them, and provided food and shelter? It sounded ideal. Would they welcome him? He had nothing left here, no one to return to. No chance of life other than hiding behind the barrels hoping for a chance at food. He silently left his hiding place, leaving the same way he came. Once in the alleyway, he crept around the building to crouch in the shadows, waiting.

He was so tired he dozed, but jerked awake when he heard loud laughter and voices. Chancing a look around the corner he saw the two men leaving the eatery. The pale one slapped the dark one on the back and turned to walk down the street. The dark one hesitated and seemed to look straight at him. Bostel smothered a gasp and ducked back. He heard footsteps and waited until they passed before leaving his hiding place and following, always keeping to the shadows, hiding as best he could.

He lost sight of the dark man and felt panic. This was his chance to leave here. A glimmer of hope that he would survive. He couldn’t lose it. He hurried forward, looking in every direction at once. The man, he needed to find the man. A hand reached from the shadows and grasped him by the back of his ragged shirt, dragging him between two buildings. Bostel bit his lip until it bled to keep from crying out. He wouldn’t let a stranger know his fear.

You’re following me, boy, the dark man’s voice growled with menace. The question is why? Do you think to pick my pocket for the few credits you might find?

Bostel pulled out of the man’s grip and turned to face him, straightening his thin shoulders.

I’m not a thief, he said indignantly.

So why are you shadowing me, little one?

The voice sounded amused now, but Bostel couldn’t make out the man’s expression in the darkness.

I want to go, too.

Go? Go where?

The temple. You told the pale man of a temple that trains boys. I want to go, too.

Where is your family, little one? Go back home.

Dead, Bostel said, refusing to allow the fear that was choking him show. No family.

You have no one?

Bostel shook his head, but realizing in the darkness the man probably couldn’t see it, answered with a quiet ‘no.’

And you think to go to the Temple of The Brethren? What do you think they would want with a scrawny little thing like you?

I can work, Bostel refused to plead, but he had to convince this man. I will work. I’ll learn.

You have spirit, at least. How old are you?

I don’t know, Bostel answered honestly.

His mother had never marked the passage of years for him. In his remembrance he could tell of six years maybe, but had no idea of his actual date of birth. He heard the man sigh. Bostel couldn’t tell what that man was thinking, but he felt a glimmer of hope.

Do you have a name, at least?

Bostel.

Okay, Bostel. I’ll take you to The Brethren. But it will be up to the masters if they keep you. You could very well be asking for your own death?

If I stay here I’ll die, anyway, Bostel shrugged. If I go at least I have a chance.

Chapter One

No! No, no, no! I’m not anyone’s mate, sweetness. Just get over yourself!

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Kitten? Ubutu Bonachi laughed.

He’ll never hold out as long as I did, Bonachi’s mate, Fael, replied with a smirk. He doesn’t have it in him.

Bostel Rogell directed a blue-eyed glare at the pair before focusing on the two Hashani staring at him so intently, insisting he was their mate. Not that they were mates themselves, they weren’t talking about a traditional triad. The pair were twin brother and sister, a matched set, and each claimed him as theirs, to be shared between the two.

They were beautiful, elegant and unlike any Hashani he’d ever met, with blonde hair, pale skin, orange gold Hashani eyes, and delicate features that would make an angel weep, if you believed in that sort of thing, which he didn’t. The brother was only a shade taller than his sister, and neither would come past his shoulder. Both looked as if they’d break in a strong wind and they wore those serene expressions that made him wonder just what was going on in their fine-looking heads. If he were the settling down kind, they’d have his consideration in a heartbeat. But he wasn’t. Not now, not ever.

You wanna roll around in my bunk with me, I’m all for it. Your brother wants to join us? Hey, who am I to turn down such a sweet offer? But mates? Uh-uh, no way. It’ll take more than a succulent pair of Hashani to trap this bad boy, Bostel threw himself into the seat in front of the security console and glared.

Yeah, he’s going down, Froell, Fael’s twin brother, snickered.

I can’t believe you’re taking them on as crew, Bonachi, Bostel grumbled.

I’m still operating with a partial crew. I wanted a healer aboard since we’re a long distance hauler and Fael is pregnant, Bonachi said with a shrug. They come as a set and can work overlapping shifts, which isn’t a hardship, either. The fact they irritate you to no end? That’s merely a bonus.

Fine, you take them on and I’ll just head out on my merry little way, Bostel threatened.

Honor debt to Fael, Froell said in a sing song voice.

Nope, I haven’t forgiven you yet, Bostel, the Felosan female grinned evilly at him, patting her protruding abdomen. And now? Hey, I may never forgive you just because this will be the most entertainment I’ve had since Cleona came to Solaria.

That doesn’t speak well for your abilities in the sack now, does it, Bonachi? Bostel leered at his captain.

Oh handsome, Hashani are the ultimate lovers, Fael smirked. Sometimes man, sometimes cat. Rock. Your. Galaxy.

Fael looked at her mate with an expression clearly promising Bonachi was going to get lucky later on. Something Bostel needed to happen, and soon. His balls were turning blue after all the flirting he’d just done with Mango and Galon. He shivered when he remembered the prod of Galon’s package against his backside as he’d ground into him. Even at rest it was something. Not that he was jealous of Mango. Okay, maybe a little.

Come on, Zyphra, the blonde male Hashani put his hand on his sister’s arm. Let’s go get our belongings packed and let Lord Tigarus know Bonachi has accepted us as crew.

Sometimes I think the Gods have an insane sense of humor, Thurus, Zyphra replied, still eying him as if he were some strange bug. But his scent doesn’t lie. He’s definitely my mate.

Mine, as well, Zyphra, Thurus nodded serenely.

Lowe can assign you quarters when you return, Bonachi said.

Oh yes! Lowe, Froell’s bubbly little mate, gave a bounce in his seat. They can take the double across from Froell and me. It’s got two big bunks and is large enough for Bostel to join them when he finally admits they’re right.

He watched the twins leave the bridge and rubbed a hand through ebony waves, thinking he should probably trim it soon. It was getting so long it was hard to put in the traditional knot The Brethren wore. Pfft! Like he’d ever been a traditional Brethren.

You ever had your tail tied in a knot? Bostel growled at the small, white Felosan.

Lowe laughed delightedly as if he’d just cracked the funniest joke. What. The. Fuck. He was a fucking Brethren. He could kill them all before they had a chance to touch him. He had the permanent images covering his body, down to the final lightning blaze across his chest, testifying to the fact he’d mastered every lethal ability taught at the Temple of The Brethren. He should intimidate the entire crew, and no one – fucking no one – gave him any respect. Lonta, the pale yellow Felosan that served as pilot, snickered and shook his head.

Bostel, your growl is so much worse than your bite, he said with a grin. You wouldn’t hurt a whisker on any of us. We’ve got your number, buddy.

And that was the rub, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t. He’d protect each and every one of the members of this crew with his own life, if necessary. He’d not given his oath like his childhood friend, Mango, had done, but in his heart, he was theirs. He’d follow this crazy, mixed up, blended family of cat-shifting Hashani and two-legged feline Felosans to the ends of the universe and have their back the entire way.

Sometimes life just sucked.

You know what? he said, standing up. You don’t need me right now, so I’ll just go find someplace quiet to meditate or something.

Is that what they call it now, Lowe snorted and thrust his hips suggestively. "Hey, Froell, I’m sure Bonachi can spare us for a little while. Want to go meditate with me?"

Bostel left the bridge listening to the crew’s laughter. He made sure he was completely out of their line of sight before he allowed himself to smile. Ass. Hole. The little Felosan was one of his favorite people, though. Bouncy, happy, and full of mischief – the perfect baby brother – with shadows in his past just as painful as the ones Bostel battled to keep at bay.

He’d lucked out at an early age. Taken on by one of The Brethren, Tharn Rogell had basically adopted him, gave him his name, and delivered both his adoptive brother, Salo, and him to the Temple of The Brethren. He’d vouched for Bostel, explained to the masters why he’d brought the orphaned boy and persuaded them to take him in. He’d had to work twice as hard as any of the other boys attending the temple. The masters seemed to delight in pushing him to his limits. And he’d thrived.

He remembered the day he’d met the exotic-looking Solarian, Mango Ururoa. Younger than him by about two years and, at the time, so much smaller, Mango had already been at the temple for two years, having been dropped off at the age of four. Bostel and Salo were still in their first year. Salo had turned out to be a bully and delighted in tormenting the younger boys. Mango had withstood Salo’s taunts and pushes with a surprising dignity, watching Salo with a solemn, sad-eyed look that seemed to convey he knew more than any of the other boys about life and wasn’t going to share.

When Salo had pushed too hard and Mango fell onto his back, Bostel had decided enough was enough and challenged him, earning himself and his adoptive brother the punishment of cleaning floors on their knees for a week. Salo never forgave him and still wouldn’t speak to him – and he was still a bully. When the punishment was over, Bostel took Mango under his wing. At least, he liked to think of it that way. Now, he realized Mango had probably taken him on, not the other way around. Like Tharn, the younger boy had looked into Bostel’s eyes and saw something he thought worthwhile and Bostel had made it his life’s mission to never disappoint his friend.

That mission had a lot to do with why he was here now, aboard this transport. His ill-informed actions had resulted in Fael’s kidnapping. Mango had appeared on his ship where he’d waited with several others to fulfill a contract for the former ambassador of Veola and offered his assistance. A contract he’d actually undertaken on his own since he was woefully short of credits. Mango had persuaded him to position himself away from the others and promised to bring the female to him. And he had.

They’d delivered the female, and he’d even gotten double the credits promised because he’d found out Fael was pregnant and knew he might as well make it worth his while if he was going to run the risk of angering the masters at the temple. After receiving payment, Mango had teleported him to his ship, refused his share of credits, bid him farewell and disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived.

He’d realized when he was summoned before the masters at the temple and Mango was not, that all was not as it seemed. After having his butt chewed on for over an hour for risking the young of another being, he ended up forfeiting almost all the credits in his account as well as having his transport confiscated, as a fine and punishment. Master Voga announced he would serve out a debt of honor to Fael, and he’d not protested. Somehow, he knew Mango would be disappointed in him if he had. Master