Freed and Filled

Chapter 2 - Jokur

I smirk, hiding my bone deep dread behind humor as Commander Ru'en's scowl deepens. Instincts demand I prevent whatever catastrophic event looms on the horizon, but without direction, I settle into old habits.

"Guess things need to heat up soon, before you go cryonic, huh?" I say as I tap the processor attached to Commander Ru'en's suit.

As cold as ever—pun intended—my commander doesn't react beyond sliding his blade into his holster with a tad bit more force than necessary. A rare Frigant, his blood runs as cold as ice in his veins, the cloud of cool air emanating from him wafting against my arm, even through both of our suits.

A sliver of concern runs down my spine, which I, of course, bury under snark.

"How much you want to bet Choku and Thret have just been running rampant through the facilities? They've been eerily quiet ever since we landed."

If I didn't know him so well, I'd think I offended Commander Ru'en with my verbal jab, but he takes pride in his ability to be succinct. He crosses his arms over his chest and checks the horizon yet again.

He's been running much colder the last few weeks, ever since another Warrior Elite beat him to a pulp. Of course, the resulting drama, a crashing spaceship, and one of our very own finding his lifemate, has no doubt affected his metabolic rate, too. Add in our missing team members, Choku and Thret, and he's likely to go cryogenic at the slightest disturbance.

Part of me wants to see him lose his shit. The other part wants to protect him at all costs, which is ridiculous. He, along with every alpha on our team, doesn't require the sort of protection I feel compelled to give. They aren't weak or timid. My teammates are battle hardened warriors, fully capable of taking care of themselves. It's an honor to know they have my back, just as I have theirs.

Even if two of them forget they know how to talk most days.

I scoff at Commander Ru'en's dismissal and pull the hose to my water sack free of its holder.

"Fine, you were always a sore loser anyway," I say, knowing exactly what buttons to push to get a reaction. Ru'en's white pupils shrink, leaving tiny pinpoints in his otherwise black orbs as he swings his gaze to mine. I suck down a lazy gulp of water.

"I don't lose, Jokur. You know this."

I pop my water hose back into place and scratch my nape, pretending like my scruff isn't covered by my suit, and shake my shoulders as though brushing something off.

"Well, there was that one time..."

His deep growl vibrates the metal under my feet, adding a lower vibration than the craft's engine.

"Are you sure now's the time to poke the ice giant?" Den, an alpha from Warrior Elite Team 6, asks as he strides across the cargo bay. "I mean, I'm all for reminding him of his fail—"

I yank my knife from its holster and fling it at the oversized idiot. He spins just in time to avoid my blade sinking into his shoulder.

"This doesn't concern you," I growl.

"Fucking hells, Jokur, lighten up."

I lift my lip and inch closer, daring him to continue, itching for a fight.

"You don't get to insult my family. That's my job," I say, knocking his shoulder with mine as I pass. When I yank my knife free of the wooden box, Den scoffs and snaps his mask off his belt.

"Then get better at it. You suck."

I chuckle and slide my blade back into its holster at my hip.

"Often and with fervor. You should try it. The ladies love it."