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  Subtly she nodded. He kissed her, allowing his lips to linger for a long moment before he laid her down and tucked the fur around her shoulders. “Make sure you eat something.” He winked. “You’re going to need strength later.”

  When she smiled, her cheeks blushed and eyes sparkled. If he didn’t set his ass in motion and get out of there right now, he’d strip naked and crawl beside her beneath the furs.

  He stood and walked backward to the doorway, where he stalled and stole a final glance. Before donning the headpiece he blew her a kiss, pushed the flap aside and exited the hut.

  Trice stood beside Bronto, talking and gesturing toward the meadow with his hands. Tyran had mounted his horse and was galloping toward the group. The additional six men sat directly behind them near the outskirts of camp, each heavily armed with bows, arrows and knives. Zypher was the exception, carrying an M-16 slung over his shoulder.

  “Trice, increase security around the perimeter of the children’s camp. If you encounter any more mutants, secure the kids and the women in the underground shelters. I want you, Grunt and a few others to stay here. If you sense a threat, secure these women as well, but put them in the weapons shelter.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Bronto steered his horse around. “You’re not going to believe this, Chieftain.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Vulcan unleashed his horse and mounted its back. “Come, we’ve got a long journey ahead.”

  Bronto nodded slightly and commanded his horse into a trot. “I think they’re dinosaur eggs,” he said under his breath then rushed forward.

  Dinosaur eggs? They’d been on Helixis for two years and hadn’t seen any evidence of dinosaurs to date. How in the hell had they gotten there? He didn’t want to fuck around with any damn dinosaurs. “Let’s hope not,” Vulcan shouted. “We thought the alien species caused problems. I can’t even imagine.”

  Bronto slowed his horse, waiting for Vulcan to catch up. “With the alien species resembling a triceratops, there may be some relation.”

  “Yeah, but what?” Vulcan asked. Theoretically he couldn’t generate a response to his own damn question. Many undiscovered planets lingered in space. Who was to say they didn’t have their own life forms or species that traveled from one world to the next? He could only explain what they’d seen, not why.

  “I suspect the government knows about the mammals,” Bronto said. “It appears they’ve assigned our names in conjunction to dinosaur types.”

  “That should’ve been our first clue,” Vulcan mumbled.

  At least he and Bronto were on the same page.

  They’d encountered a multitude of oddities. A two-headed snake. Birmon. He certainly was an odd-looking varmint but he was no dinosaur by any means. Hell, maybe he was. Who knew what type of wildlife survived in this day and age? Just because it wasn’t documented didn’t mean it hadn’t existed.

  Vulcan rode side by side near Bronto through the meadow to a stretch of miles-long rocky terrain. Finally the forest along the foot of the mountains fell into view. When the tribe neared the trees, Bronto raised his arm, stopping the men. After he dismounted he handed his reins to Grunt and waved, gesturing for Vulcan and Tyran to follow.

  They didn’t need to venture deep into the forest to see at least five large, gray eggs on the other side. Damn. They were also speckled and a hell of a lot bigger than two feet in diameter.

  “Holy shit,” Tyran exclaimed under his breath, followed by a click of his camera. “The commander was right.”

  Vulcan made a mental note of that comment and crept quietly through the trees with both men at his heels. They exchanged glances of caution, one spurring the other on until they reached the end of the wooded shelter, as they were now in the Mountain Slayers’ domain.

  Vulcan stood near a mangled, hollowed tree trunk, staring at the large objects. Each was masked in an orange hue. He shook his head in disbelief as he drew near the cluster of eggs and squatted, where he found a broken shell and numerous pieces trailing toward the mountains. Tyran duckwalked to the opposite side, snapping photos.

  “Unbelievable,” Tyran whisper-shouted.

  The outside egg sitting directly in the sun’s rays appeared somewhat transparent. Vulcan studied it from all angles and damned if he didn’t see a tail. Or what resembled a tail. He laid his hand on the illuminated section and placed his ear on the shell. It was warm to the touch and it slightly wiggled. He backed off and rose to his feet. “I don’t know what’s in there, but it’s moving around.”

  Tyran snapped another round of photos. “I need to dissect one of these,” he said.

  “It appears someone else had the same idea. Look,” Vulcan stated, pointing toward the trail of jagged shells. “There aren’t any footprints, so whatever was inside that egg didn’t walk off on its own.”

  Tyran moved toward a large piece of the broken shell and observed it closely. “Too bad I don’t have the means to transport at least one egg to my lab. Damn it. I should’ve thought about that before we headed out.”

  “Stealing from the litter is not an option,” Vulcan stated. “I’m sure its mother would hunt down any missing eggs.”

  “DNA samples are required to complete my analysis.” Tyran ran his finger along the shell, lifting a clear string of slime that he rubbed between his fingertips. “It’s possible this may be all I need. I’ll take a sample with us. If it’s not enough, we’ll need to return for an intact egg. I know you don’t agree, Vulcan, but it’s very important.”

  Bronto stepped forward and cupped Vulcan’s shoulder. “What type of eggs do you presume they are? Barbarian or not, I’d rather not become acquainted with the animal who laid them. Nor do I want to be present when they hatch. I imagine a baby T-Rex can be as lethal as a full-grown Tyrannosaurus.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a Brachiosaurus,” Vulcan said. Listen to me talking dinosaur like I’m an expert.

  “Possibly,” Tyran interjected. “They could belong to one of many sauropods.”

  Bronto’s brows rose. “Sauropods?”

  “The largest animals that have ever lived. You’re right about one thing, they are definitely dinosaur eggs, but I’m conflicted about their size,” Tyran confirmed while he pulled a pencil and measuring tape from a leather satchel and placed the end on the highest point of the largest egg. “I suspect the quakes we’ve experienced lately were caused by them moving into the area.”

  “Those were some bad-ass footsteps,” Bronto said then burst into laughter.

  Tyran glared at him over the tip of his nose. “You think it’s funny? I’m talking about a hundred-and-twenty-foot-long creature that weighs nearly seventy tons. You don’t think the ground would rumble under its feet?”

  Bronto instantly sobered. “Well, putting it that way, it gives me a new perspective.”

  Tyran nudged his chin toward the egg. “Hold this in place.”

  After Bronto placed his finger on the edge of the tape, Tyran marked it with the pencil then ran the tape along the side of the shell. He marked the ending then restarted measuring from that point. “Three and a half feet,” he relayed in disbelief. “They may even be from a dino breed unknown to man.”

  Vulcan crossed his arms. “Sounds as though you’ve anticipated their discovery, Tyran.”

  “Honestly, I have. I had hoped to find them congruently to our arrival on Helixis though. They’ve always inhabited this planet, but until now they’ve resided on the southern hemisphere.”

  Vulcan shook his head dismally, turned and headed back toward the trees.

  “What should we do with them?” Bronto asked.

  “Nothing,” Vulcan replied over his shoulder.

  Absolutely nothing. He refused to put his unit and everyone else on the planet in danger of a pissed-off mother dinosaur or whatever the hell had laid them. The mammoth creatures hadn’t caused any problems so far. Why stir trouble now?

  Sections of sparkling rocks embedded in the path caught his attention. They consisted o
f various colors and sizes that Wisteria could use for her jewelry craft. He unsheathed his knife, bent down and carefully dug them from the dirt, dropping a handful into his holster.

  “Shall we destroy them?” Bronto asked.

  Vulcan stood and spun around. “Hell no.” He couldn’t imagine witnessing the wrath of the momma. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “If we demolish them, there will be five fewer dinosaurs we’ll have to deal with later,” Bronto replied.

  “And I’d rather deal with them than their mother. Leave them alone. Let’s go.” Those eggs had already been there…how long? If in fact they were dinosaur eggs, what was the incubation period? Months? Years?

  “Tyran, we’ll contact Sumner upon our return. From your earlier comment, I assume he’s already aware of these animals.” He mounted his horse and raced home. The last time he’d talked to Sumner, Sumner had adamantly denied any knowledge of the chameleon species during the prior invasion and had commanded Vulcan to handle the situation as needed. Unfortunately the need required a keen eye, an abundance of ammunition and an accurate shot. Tyran discovered that attaching a magnifying glass to the night-vision goggles made it possible to detect the species after they’d conformed to the color of the environment. Sadly Vulcan lost two Americans and eleven primitive men before Tyran made that discovery. Afterward he’d sat perched high in the trees, navigating the tribe toward the camouflaged predators until they were finally knocked off one at a time.

  But dinosaurs?

  Damn, his head hurt, and the pounding of stampeding horses’ hooves didn’t help matters.

  * * * * *

  Sledge dropped to the ground behind a group of bushes when Ivy stopped and cautiously looked over her shoulder. He thought the twig that had snapped under his foot would alert her. He was right.

  For the past two days he’d followed her when she’d wandered from home. He hoped she wasn’t searching for Boar and Dahlia, but searched for someone more important, preferably the woman destined to be his mate. Since Ivy headed in a different direction this time and ventured toward the Barbarian camp, this could be what he’d waited for.

  It was time to take Wisteria home.

  And knock off the beast that’d stolen her. A band of Flesh Eaters were hidden not too far behind, waiting to cannibalize the Barbarian leader to the bone. In Sledge’s world revenge came at a high price.

  He couldn’t wait to taste Wisteria’s flesh. That was if the Barbarians hadn’t already rutted and gutted her like an animal.

  Rutting her was his job. He’d waited a long time to plow into her woman’s tunnel. Way too long. He wanted to hear her scream until she begged him to stop.

  His mouth watered. He wiped it with the back side of his hand then grabbed his stiff, manly shaft and squeezed it.

  Soon.

  He swept his gaze across the ground behind his back. The Flesh Eaters had drawn closer. He smelled them.

  Befriending the cannibals was the best thing he could’ve done. Nothing wrong with having a mass of killers on his side. It was better than living with a bunch of pansy clan people who cowered if glanced at the wrong way. All but Wisteria’s father, who’d taken charge of the wimps.

  Sledge even helped arrange the attack on the clan with promises of hides and pelts as payment. It was how he’d accumulated enough furs to trade for Wisteria.

  He drew to his knees when Ivy continued walking then he stood, waving the tribe to follow. If his plan was going to work, he needed to grab hold of her before she reached the open meadow.

  She didn’t have far to go.

  He waited for the Flesh Eaters to reach him before he charged her. She swung around. Her eyes bulged and she screamed. Like a frightened deer, she turned and ran.

  He caught her by a handful of her hair and yanked her backward, slamming her into his chest. Again she screamed, digging her nails into his hand and kicking at his legs. “Shut up,” he commanded, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Or I’ll snap your neck.” He slightly twisted her head, proving he would.

  Breaths puffed in and out of her nose as she tried nodding.

  Ah, fear mixed with the scent of a woman. He sniffed her, drawing a long whiff through his nostrils, released it slowly then sniffed her again. Womanly. Nearly as womanly as her sister. Maybe he should drop her to the ground and impale her with his shaft. It’d appease some of the hunger he developed for Wisteria.

  “Sledge, move it,” someone ordered at his back.

  Mood destroyer. He dug his shaft into Ivy’s rear end. Her lower torso shot forward. “The Flesh Eaters are behind me, and they’re impatient. If you make one wrong move, they’re going to turn your mother into their next meal.”

  Ivy squeaked.

  “You’re going to cross the meadow with me. Act as if nothing is wrong.”

  Again she tried nodding.

  “When we enter that part of the forest,” he said, pointing straight ahead, “you’re going to call to your sister.”

  The girl’s eyes squeezed shut but she didn’t move or make a sound.

  He shook her. “Do you hear me?”

  Tears slipped beneath her lashes and she mumbled, “Yes.”

  A spray of her spit covered his palm and fingers. Slowly he released her and licked the underside of his hand clean. Mmm, the taste of an innocent female.

  He poked her back to nudge her forward. “Don’t try nothing stupid. Your mother’s life depends on you.”

  Her face tilted toward the ground and she fisted her hands, clenching them while they crossed the meadow to the other side. He squatted behind a huge oak, grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around. “Go ahead, call your sister before we’re spotted.”

  “What will you do to her?” she asked, her lips trembling.

  “I’m taking her home. Go. Quit stalling.”

  “What if they attack me?”

  “That’ll give me time to get out of here.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not your bargaining tool.”

  “Maybe not, but your mother is.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Vulcan yanked on the reins, bringing his mount to a complete halt just outside the camp perimeter. Trice and ten to fifteen men stood facing the woods, their backsides turned toward the returning group. They appeared on guard, each posed in an attack stance and holding a weapon.

  “What the hell?” Had a horde of mutants wandered into camp?

  Vulcan raised his hand, alerting and silently commanding the tribe closing in at his back to stop. He couldn’t see anything from the distance but he refused to barge in and possibly endanger his people. Tuning in to the slightest sounds, he jumped off his horse and handed the reins to Bronto. “I’m going in on foot through the back side. Be prepared to take charge if we’re attacked.”

  Bronto wrapped the reins around his hand and nodded.

  The echo of a disgruntled voice inside the camp snapped Vulcan into action. “Zypher, be ready to take aim at my signal,” he said then he charged past the row of huts to the adjacent woods. Quietly he maneuvered through the trees, stopping whenever he made a sound, but he doubted anyone could hear above Birmon’s squawking frenzy. It sounded as though he was being tortured.

  Vulcan’s shoulders tightened. As he drew near the threat he heard a very distinct voice rise above Trice’s, who’d tried talking the man down. In the background a female whimpered. It too was a very distinctive tone and Vulcan’s mouth went dry.

  “Take another step, I’ll cut her throat,” the man warned Trice.

  Vulcan froze, for the bastard Sledge owned that voice and had only one reason to have barged into the camp.

  Wisteria.

  Blood pumped through his veins so ferociously his jugular throbbed. His guts tightened in knots but if he didn’t stay in control and use his head he’d jeopardize her life. Why in the hell hadn’t he permanently maimed the bastard?

  “Where is he?” the man shouted. “I want him to watch her die.”

  “He’s
not here right now,” Trice responded calmly, though he probably wanted to kill the son of a bitch too. If the government hadn’t prohibited attacks, Vulcan’s men would have destroyed him by now.

  Fuck the rules. Vulcan refused to step aside while the lunatic who’d nearly whipped Wisteria unconscious tried abducting her.

  The other tribes believed the Barbarians held no value over human lives, so Sledge obviously realized Wisteria’s importance. Why else would he barter with her life? He didn’t know part of the barbaric tribe was actually a group of Americans on a special mission from planet Earth who were ordered not to kill. Luckily Vulcan’s primates would wait on his command to attack but it was getting harder to bite back the order to slay. If not for Wisteria he would’ve given the word but he couldn’t jeopardize her safety. When the Barbarians fought, they sought blood.

  How had Sledge made it into their camp without becoming a prisoner in the first place?

  Vulcan moved toward the outer edge of trees, looking for an unobstructed path. Unbelievably he spotted a group of five men from the flesh-eating tribe standing behind Sledge. Flesh Eaters! So, the SOB had befriended a band of killers. Fucking traitor. He held an ax to Wisteria’s throat with one hand. His other hid behind her back, obviously tugging on her arms. Her body bowed slightly forward, as if removing the pressure from her shoulders.

  Vulcan wanted to tear the bastard to pieces but any recourse now could prove deadly.

  He squatted low in the brush and backtracked a few steps, lining himself up with the row of his tribesmen still modeled in attack mode. He wouldn’t underestimate them. They’d have his back.

  Birmon stood beside her bare feet, frantically flapping his wings and squawking while trying to take a bite out of Sledge’s ankles. Bound to a tree to their left sat Wisteria’s sister, and it became perfectly clear how the prick made it into his camp.

  “Someone had better find him,” Sledge warned, yanking Wisteria’s arms high behind her back. She gasped. Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips folded.

  While witnessing her blatant state of pain, Vulcan unwound. He saw blood. And he wanted a taste of it.