Free Fenturi Fate (Spacestalker Saga Book 1) by Bevan Greer Page B

Nesham complained. “Stop avoiding the obvious—”
    “—and seek the Mari.” Nedham frowned. “If I could—”
    “— I would!” Nesham finished.
    Ren scowled at his shipmates, feeling a low growl work its way past his throat. The twins eyes widened, and they quickly lowered their gazes to the floor. The show of submission eased his temper, which made little sense. Ren had never been a fan of leading through fear. No matter what Zebram had done to him, he’d refused to be like the king in any way.
    “I’ll be in my cabin,” he said in a low voice and stalked out of the front cabin, moving toward his private quarters.
    Castor had come close without directly mentioning his hated Fenturi blood. Though they all knew of his origins, they knew better than to speak of it aloud .
    The twins understood his feelings better than most, and while not blaming him for his actions thus far in their quest for the ‘savior,’ he could tell that they would only last so much longer without true direction. He entered his chamber and clenched his fists.
    By the Dark World, could none of them understand his reluctance to embrace a part of himself he’d been taught to hate all his life? Though he despised Zedrax, he’d always secretly longed for the bastard’s acceptance, if not his love. Ren didn’t understand this weakness and cursed himself for his inability to be so needy, pacing about his spartan room.
    How confused and troubled was he that he still wished Zedrax had shown him even a quarter of the love he’d felt for his legitimate, royal son, Zebram? T he old man had treated Ren like filth his entire life. Ren hated the Fenturi blood that had made him so undesirable, even as he tried to hate the man who’d treated him so poorly.
    He sank to his bed and held his head in his hands. He’d hunted and killed many rebels and traitors over the years, individuals that posed a threat to the Bylaran way of life. He’d even killed, though in battle, a group of Fenturi raiders, though few remained to plague Vinopol very much anymore.
    His trained reaction to anything Fenturi was to grab a sword or rifle and expel it from this existence. But now the new king had ordered him to capture and protect a Fenturi.
    His head pounded, pain and confusion making it difficult to function. Such weakness is unworthy of you . Shake it off, damn it. With threat of the Ragil Horde upon them, Ren couldn’t afford any vulnerability. He had to get a hold of his irrational fear, that the Fenturi blood in his veins would somehow make him less than he was, into the animal Zedrax had always known him to be.
    The fear would be his undoing, and he had to get a handle on it.
    In all of his years on Bylar, no one had mentioned his ties to the Fenturi for fear of Zedrax’s reprisal. And as he’d grown, no one mentioned it out of fear of Ren. But his crew knew and respected him. That the Hams now hinted at his Fenturi blood spoke volumes about their unease.
    Castor had been just as vocal. A more solid friend none could think to have, Castor had always respected Ren’s desire not to discuss his background or ties to King Zedrax, a man whom Castor had disliked intensely. But even Castor knew they needed to use every weapon at their disposal to fight the coming Horde.
    Ren sighed, knowing what he had to do even as he hated himself for it. Though he willingly took advantage of his Fenturi abilities in battle—swiftness of motion, greater strength, the ability to see in the dark—he used those gifts to protect his men, to defend Vinopol. He’d never openly admitted to himself he was embracing his Fenturi nature.
    He did so now and felt as if his entire world shifted beneath him. Ren closed his eyes and felt a strange humming deep within. The force of ancient animal instinct raged throughout his body. He focused on his mission and envisioned a fellow Fenturi, pictured the Mari’s mark in his mind’s eye, and willed the being to come to him. Seething energy