Page 67 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

“A party,” he said firmly.

She snickered. “Oh, this is going to be fun. We’re setting it up at the compound. There’s a room there that can hold everyone, I think. We’ve already got someone over there setting up a power conversion system.”

“Should I ask why you need a power conversion system?”

“DVDs,” she said, enunciating each syllable. “Whoops! Jyrak needs me. Meet me at the compound after work? We’re going to have a communal evening meal there.”

“If it so pleases you.”

“Oh, it pleases me very much. Peace be unto you, beloved.”

She ended the call before her parting word could settle fully into his understanding.

Zoran placed a hand to his heart as his legs went weak. “Beloved,” he murmured. Was Mia coming to love him as he loved her, or had the word been a meaningless endearment?

He pondered the difference and decided that it mattered little. His mate was softening toward him, accepting him. Including him in her life. That was enough, for the moment.

Regretfully, he tucked his musings away and initiated a call with Kaelen of Clan Drexus, to extend the hand of peace to his long-time rival. Aklan of Clan Phyrz had made a good point. Zoran needed to find a way to bring his opponents to heel.

Kaelen accepted the call and appeared on the viewscreen bare from the chest up. The other warlord was one of the more massive clan leaders on Zephyria, as tall as Zoran though bulkier, possessed of the cold-eyed stare that had brought more than one enemy to his knees. The lynchpin of the northern clans, Kaelen’s ancestors had built Clan Drexus’sjutjiout of the rugged, evergreen-strewn mountains ranging northward into the tundra. The current Lord Drexus had spent his youth cutting and hauling timber out of the great mountain ranges to trade with his clan’s neighbors, and bore the scars to prove it.

Kaelen turned that hard stare on the viewscreen, his expression as unyielding as one of his mountains. “Kerus.”

“Drexus,” Zoran replied, foregoing, as Kaelen had, the traditional greeting and nod of respect. “I hope my call did not interrupt your morning Ky’Lota practice.”

Kaelen grunted. “If it had, we would not now be speaking. What do you want?”

Zoran suppressed his kneejerk irritation and strained for calm. “Clan Kerus is holding a Day of Remembrance in Arkkukari to honor the Pjorii and our dead. As the human females will be in attendance, all unmated males of the warrior and warlord ranks are also welcome to attend.”

Kaelen made a show of swiping sweat off his forehead and chest with a drying cloth, then drawing on a thin sweater before replying. “What concessions must my clan’s warriors make in return for this honor?”

“No concessions save your attendance. If your warriors require accommodations—”

“We shall make do. Is that all?”

A muscle in Zoran’s jaw jumped. Was the invitation not enough? “Avyirkolenwas killed near the original fort.”

Kaelen’s eyes narrowed. “Are you leveling an accusation against me and mine?”

“Only if you and yours are responsible.”

“We are not. What was the target?”

“My mate.”

The other warlord hissed in a breath. “She is well?”

“It rendered her no harm. We have found no trace of additionalvyirkolen, yet must we all remain wary.”

Kaelen remained quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on Zoran. “Indeed. If that is all?”

“Until the next Council meeting, yes.”

“Render my regards to Lady Kerus. I look forward to meeting her and her companions on the Day of Remembrance.”

“Peace be unto you,” Zoran gritted out.

Kaelen grunted and cut the call.

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