Excerpt 1:

Unease shuddered down Patrea’s spine. No sign of danger. Just his close-cousin Koris draining a gasa into a pitcher. The succulent promise of fresh blood after rationing should distract him. But this sense of danger wouldn’t let him be.

He’d felt it before, although this time was different. Like a slight variation in tint to a familiar color. The first time, he hadn’t recognized the feeling. Now he’d never forget it, different or not.

His memory flashed to the sight of white Angellum feathers splattered with the spray of Virkolan blood. His clan’s blood. His family’s blood.

As the mealhall erupted with voices and footsteps, he shook his head clear of the vision.

Hadreal poked his head around the doorframe to the galley. “Where’s the feast?” His gaze fastened on a clear vessel full of crimson liquid. “Man, that smells good!” His mouth drooped open and his tongue swiped against an extended fang.

Even Patrea’s unease couldn’t stop him from smiling. Five years as Hadreal’s bunkmate, Patrea had come to regard him as a friend, although he’d like to be more.

“Here.” Koris handed the pitcher to Hadreal. “Take it out to the table while I put the other bird on to roast.

Hadreal wrapped both hands around the pitcher as if it were more precious than all the credit in the galaxy. His face dipped over the opening then he inhaled deep. With a sharp grunt, he left Patrea alone with Koris.

Patrea’s discomfort grew until fear mixed with adrenaline. Angels couldn’t be on board. Something else was setting off his internal warning system. The new captain?

Maybe the old one? The Terran—Jenkins—had admitted to colluding with angels. The new captain—his name was Teo—should have killed Jenkins right then and there. Maybe the Terran had sent a signal. His angel friends could be following them right now.

Then again, the feeling had been just as strong—if not stronger—on Captain Teo’s old ship. Patrea chalked it up to Jenkins’ insistence that Teo was harboring an angel.

A round of cheers came from the mealhall.

Koris, his hands full of feathers and fowl, shouldered Patrea toward the door. “No sense in missing out on the fresh stuff.”

Nodding, Patrea wandered into the room where part of the small crew toasted with fresh blood. Snagging a cup, he almost drooled at the sweet aroma.

Since Jenkins had taken over the Avere, they’d had few opportunities for celebration or even a decent meal. Now Patrea understood Jenkins’ reluctance at allowing blooding for meals. Terrans had an aversion to drinking blood.

Captain Teo stood in the middle of the room with his cup raised. “To a profitable venture and a victorious fight!” The toast was familiar.

While most smugglers—freighters of any kind—were in the business for the money, they also dedicated their lives to fighting the Angellum whenever the opportunity arose.

The other two crewmen, Hadreal and Narndo, echoed his words. Missing was Sorin, the captain’s mate. Strange he wasn’t there to celebrate his lover’s acquisition of a new ship.

As he tried to drain the cup, Patrea’s uneasiness thickened, clogging his throat. He fought against choking on his drink.

The captain drained his cup then set it on the table. He sucked his top lip under the bottom then released it with a smack. “I hate to put a damper on a good celebration but I have some serious issues to discuss.”

The hair on Patrea’s neck rose. A flush of heat washed over him. One hand clenched into a fist. The other wrapped tightly around the metal cup. Irrational hate threatened his control.

“I have information about an Angellum project that bodes very ill for our people.” Teo motioned toward the seats around the table, but no one moved to sit. “A couple of weeks ago, my mate Sorin was kidnapped by angels.”

Patrea sucked in a sharp breath. His nails cut into the palm of his hand. Knuckles whitened on his other hand as he gripped his cup harder.

“He doesn’t seem injured.” Hadreal echoed Patrea’s thoughts.

Teo shook his head. “He was captured. The angel Jenkins was looking for was part of a group of Angellum rebels. They were trying to stop Angellum scientists from experimenting with Virkolan DNA. She was mortally injured defending my mate.”

Trembling shook Patrea’s arms. He planted one fist against his thigh to hide his shaking. Pressing the cup against his stomach, he pushed hard to stop the roiling unease. Grateful his voice didn’t crack, he asked, “Why would they do that?”

Teo’s gaze flitted from man to man before locking with Patrea’s. “They were trying to design an angel who could inhabit the lowlands.”

A collective gasp rocked the room. Voices cried out in various stages of indignation and disbelief.

Angels couldn’t survive at lower altitudes for more than short periods of time. They lived on mountain peaks or floating cities hovering over Virkolan territories, dropping to the lowlands only to torment or kill Virkolans and their food beasts.

“They failed.” Teo’s voice rose above the din as he signaled for silence with an upraised fist. “Mostly.”

“What the fuck does ‘mostly’ mean?” Hadreal’s voice growled as he took a step forward.

“They created a hybrid creature, but the Virkolan DNA was evidently dominant. He is loyal to us, not the Angellum.”

“You let it live.” Patrea’s voice wasn’t so steady this time. His nails bit harder as warm liquid seeped into his palm.

Voices rose in fury, each clamoring louder than the next. Questions, accusations belted out like projectiles from a weapon.

“What the fuck…” “Angels…” “Didn’t sign on…”

Teo’s bellow reached above the fray. “Silence!” His dark gaze glittered with a hint of steel. “He’s harmless. He’s newly hatched and his loyalty’s imprinted on Sorin.”

“He’s here. On board.” Patrea wasn’t really asking a question. He knew the answer as his tension ratcheted up to a feverish pitch.

“Yes.” Teo planted his fists on his hips. “As Sorin’s offspring, he’s a member of my family and therefore a member of this crew. You’ve sworn loyalty.”

Hadreal shook his head. “Under false pretense.”

“How so?” Teo’s hard gaze landed on Hadreal.

Some of Patrea’s admiration for his older crewmate seeped out from under his anger.

Hadreal stood his ground and didn’t flinch under the intense scrutiny. “We didn’t know you had an angel in your ranks.”

“He’s more Virkolan than angel. And he’s still young. Mentally anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Koris sounded more curious than upset.

“He hatched full grown. Maybe all angels do or it had something to do with being a hybrid. He doesn’t talk much. Though he’s learning fast.”

“I heard something like that.” Narndo had kept his mouth until now. “About angels hatching grown or nearly so.”

“Where is it?” Hadreal asked.

“In the corridor with Sorin, waiting to meet the rest of my crew.”

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