The Melier: Prodigal Son

  THE

  MELIER

  PRODIGAL SON

  Science Fiction Romance

  by

  Poppy Rhys

  Copyright 2019 by Poppy Rhys

  Editors: Melene Braxton and Jessica Pennell

  Cover Art: Reese Dante http://www.reesedante.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  WARNING

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  FIFTY-FOUR

  FIFTY-FIVE

  FIFTY-SIX

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR NOTE

  WOMEN OF DOR NYE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  WARNING

  This story contains M/F/M, non-human alien heroes, a chubby heroine, mature content, graphic language, and some violence against women.

  Possible triggers for sensitive readers.

  PROLOGUE

  The year is 2520, four hundred and seven years after Earth’s evacuation. When Earth was no longer habitable, help efforts from the Intergalactic Coalition relocated humans to planet Dor Nye.

  Conservation efforts began, and the Milky Way was declared a protected galaxy. Earth was healed, its atmosphere altered to support the lives of endangered animal and plant species from around the universe.

  With the advanced technology the Intergalactic Coalition shared, Dor Nye grew, thrived, and became one of the five trade planets.

  ONE

  “Can you see me, Dania?”

  Everything was bright, so bright, but she could see Dr. Ullem’s fuzzy profile as he removed the eye-patch. She blinked back tears.

  “Yes.”

  Losing vision in her left eye three months ago, in a kitchen accident, had been the most painful thing of her life. She was lucky, she realized, if that was the worst thing to ever happen to her. But it certainly tilted her world upside down.

  She got fired from the diner because she couldn’t do her job well with sight in only one eye, and her apartment was broken into after the board decided to hire a cheaper security firm.

  Of everything that happened, Dania was most upset about the latter—she missed Prinkly, the giant, stone-faced, heart-of-gold security guard who used to do a kickass job of deterring no-goods. She didn’t live in the safest part of the capital and, unlike the fancy buildings, hers didn’t have droid security. But no one wanted to go up against Prinkly.

  She didn’t care about the diner job because Rita, her best friend, had a bartending gig lined up for her next week—if today went well. It was a good thing, because she was burning through her savings. But the money didn’t really matter. Truthfully, she just wanted Prinkly back—and her sight—and she’d be completely happy.

  Today, she got at least one of those things.

  Dania gingerly touched her fingertips to the fragile, freshly healed skin under her new eye.

  She couldn’t stop blinking. It was like discovering the world around her for the first time. Her depth perception the last few months had been shot to hell. She’d never knocked over so many things in her entire life. That’s why she’d been fired—spilling a hot bowl of broth into a customer’s lap.

  “Thank you,” Dania rasped, her throat getting tighter by the second.

  The procedure one week ago gave her a synthetically grown eye embedded with nanotech—she’d be able to see perfectly for the rest of her life.

  Dr. Ullem winked. “You’re welcome. You’ll be back to normal in no time now.”

  Normal.

  That sounded good.

  TWO

  VAL’KOY

  “Fall back,” Val’Koy told the guards flanking him. “I believe I will walk the city, try to blend in.”

  His guards didn’t look impressed. No doubt they worried over what their queen would think if she caught wind of her eldest son roaming the streets of Dor Nye’s capital without his guards dogging his heels.

  Some space, that’s all he wanted.

  He could see the hesitation in the wary glances they sent one another. Their little minds were at the start of meltdown mode, waffling between indecision to disappoint their queen or ignore an order from their prince.

  ‘What would Queen Gi’Moy do?’ they probably asked themselves.

  He waved a hand, refraining from rolling his eyes. He really enjoyed that dismissive expression his brothers’ human mate liked to display whenever she was ‘so over it’.

  When he turned to walk away, he heard their footsteps. Whirling around, he speared them with a look only one with a lifetime of being obeyed could manage.

  This time, when he turned around to embark on his stroll, his guards didn’t attempt to follow so closely. They would trail him but keep their distance.

  It was rare not having lurkers right at his back, protective shadows at the ready to slice down any that sought to harm their prince. Val’Koy savored it.

  He leisurely strolled the winding, white stoned streets of the city, blending into the sea of locals. The capital held a melting pot of races, so it was easy for him to fuse with the nightlife.

  He wondered how he’d spend his time, what local delights he’d partake of, or mischief he could get into, as he meandered through an alley lined with vendors.

  It was thrilling. Nearly shoulder to shoulder with those who walked the narrow market, haggling prices, swaddling younglings, making clatter with cooking utensils, and stacking wooden crates.

  The sharp scents of spices, sweat, and smoke hung in the air, trapped between the crowd and the thick cloud of gathered steam that glowed a pale orange from the local lights.

  He’d seen and experienced many cultures in his diplomatic position, bu
t Dor Nye held a forbidden lure. Before his brothers, Val’Ja and Val’Zun, paired with a Therran, he wouldn’t have stepped foot upon it.

  He found the humans mildly peculiar—how had such a feeble race survived for so long?

  It was truly astounding.

  One of Val’Koy’s joys in life was observing the way individuals reacted to controversy—and oh, the topic of Therrans was extremely controversial among his people. He couldn’t deny the intrigue.

  He stepped out of the alley sometime later. Noise spilled from the swinging doors of an establishment that had a flickering orange sign which read Revolution 5, half the letters burnt out or on the verge.

  “Hi,” a severely inebriated human female flirted, wiping her mouth. Judging from the puddle of vomit close to her feet, he assumed she wasn’t wiping away any lustful drool.

  Pity. He was a fine specimen among his people.

  “A hundred credits for some fun?” She hiccupped and giggled.

  Val’Koy’s brow lifted. Her scent was average for most humans, faint hints of brine and oil, tinged with sour. He’d smelled better. Much better. Lucia’s unique essence came to mind. However, it was easier being around humans who didn’t have phenomenal pheromones.

  She turned and wobbled down the sidewalk when he didn’t respond.

  In he went, finding a seat at the bar. It was unfamiliar territory. The human patrons on his left and right vacated their seats after warily side-eyeing him.

  He smirked.

  A mix of species commingled around the bar and dance floor in their ritualistic bid to grind against one another after ingesting spirits. The alcohol others enjoyed was almost too much for his sensitive palate to handle, but the provocative, clumsy behavior it induced in some species was humorous to watch.

  ****

  DANIA

  Every night was different. No two shifts at Revolution 5 were ever the same. Sure, Dania had her regulars, faces she saw multiple times a week, but every night was new.

  She was thankful for that as she’d surely go nuts otherwise.

  However, when the same strange guy came in for the fifth night in a row, sat in the same spot at the end of the long bar, and watched her for hours, it rubbed her the wrong way.

  Her intuition, the kind a person stuffed down in favor of logical thinking, was vibrating out of control. It felt as if gongs were being struck each time he appeared.

  “Your boyfriend’s here,” Rita, on shift with her, whisper-yelled before sliding two Salty Fist cocktails to a hyped-up party girl lingering at the bar. The music blared, a multi-limbed DJ blasting his own mixes and pumping up the crowd. Streaking blue and yellow lights zigzagged over the swaying, jumping, deafening sea of people.

  Any other night, Dania might enjoy it.

  “That’s not funny.” She scowled, her hands deftly pouring a line of shots for a group of patrons. When they insisted Dania do a shot with them, she grabbed a different bottle, filling one of the glasses. Raising it, she toasted to their graduation—from what, she didn’t know or care—and knocked it back.

  It was water.

  She’d quickly learned how to avoid getting smashed on the job without looking like the lamest bartender ever. Filling some of the empty bottles with water and placing them in a few spots around the bar meant she could ‘drink’ with the patrons, when they demanded it, and not get fired.

  Dania had practiced her alcohol face religiously in the mirror until she had a believable fuck, that’s awful expression that satisfied the clubbers every time.

  “He freaks me out,” she admitted to Rita, grabbing four bottles of beer from the cooler. She popped the tops, setting them in front of the graduates and holding out the glass tablet that fit into the palm of her hand. “Eighty-eight credits.”

  The tallest one pressed his thumb to the tablet, payment instantly accepted.

  “Enjoy!” Dania smiled, sitting the tablet back on its dock.

  “Ignore him.” Rita shrugged, tipping two bottles of alcohol as she whipped up a mix. “He’ll get bored.”

  Dania hoped.

  Her eyes darted his way, just to check again.

  He still stared.

  She quickly looked back to the bar, pulling the rag from her waist and wiping up spilled liquid. The guy gave her the willies with his sickly yellow skin and the dozens of nodules, that made her think of warts, clustered on his face and hands.

  With half a mind to ask him what the hell his problem was, Dania took a deep breath and steeled herself, ready to approach him and ask exactly that. Maybe if he got the hint he was creeping her out, he’d go stare at someone else.

  “Good evening.” A rhythmic voice that penetrated the steady hum of the crowd and music.

  Dania stopped and turned her gaze toward the direction of the throaty remark. “What’ll it be?” The question slid from her mouth automatically, as if on autopilot.

  “Something without spirits.”

  Glacial green eyes set in an angular, cobalt face held her attention hostage. His feline-like pupils black in a sea of pale foam. No white sclera like that of a human, or many of the alien races that frequented the bar. Just that glacial green.

  The ridge of his hairless brow rose over one eye. It was a subtle thing, a ‘should I repeat myself?’ micro expression, but it snapped her into action.

  Dania cocked her head to the side, absently snatching a short glass and setting it in front of him. “You know this is a bar, right?”

  At his smirk, she offered one of her own and turned to grab a chilled purple decanter. He didn’t watch the glass as Dania poured—he watched her.

  That wasn’t abnormal when she was making a drink. The warty guy—whom she clipped another glance at to confirm he continued his ogling—was entirely different though.

  Creep.

  She gathered a few other ingredients to finish off the virgin cocktail before asking, “Is that all?”

  One of his four arms settled on the bar. When she first started at Revolution 5, his extra limbs may have startled her, but after her first month, the shock of how alien other races could look... Well, it just wasn’t as alien to her anymore.

  His curled, manicured black claws tapped a rhythm on the onyx surface of the polished bar. The thick scales encircling his wrist reflected the strobing lights in prisms of colors.

  “Are you offering?” he asked.

  Dania blinked, and suppressed a shiver, that green gaze was like being caught in the sights of a hunter. At her reaction, his wide lips pulled into an easy, sly smile, revealing large, white, sharp teeth that intimidated her. The incisors caging his two front teeth were long, thick daggers that could sink into anything that powerful jaw of his set upon.

  “How much for a single night?” the dusky blue stranger asked, his round, bared skull tipping forward, like they were about to share secrets.

  “Excuse me?” Dania narrowed her gaze, her jaw slackening. Being hit on wasn’t new to her but being propositioned like a whore was.

  ****

  VAL’KOY

  Val’Koy sipped his drink, watching with fascination as the human female behind the bar began to flame a blotchy red. He didn’t find the new coloring appealing in the least. It bled over her butter-toned skin—skin he found pleasing to the eyes.

  The ugly hue advanced into her hairline, disappearing into the mass of coiling curls that faded from brown into tawny gold; all sitting atop her head in a large, frizzy bun. The color and positioning reminded him of a puffy crown. It was strange to him, seeing such contrast in hair color.

  It’d been a long day of negotiations between Dor Nye and Melierun, and he continued to wonder what possessed him to step foot into a club.

  Curiosity, he supposed. Humans had interesting establishments, and there was one unanswered question that persisted...

  What was the fuss about human women?

  Val’Koy could agree, a few of them smelled abnormally tempting, though he hadn’t scented one with pheromones as enticing as hi
s brothers’ mate.

  But were they worth the trouble they seemed to incur? His brothers appeared so content, happy, with their mate. Val’Koy couldn’t deny they were easier to be around now. They were always so serious before.

  “How much for a night?” he repeated himself.

  The question slipped from his lips before he could contemplate what he was propositioning, but he intended to see it through.

  His gaze drifted over her body. It was... interesting, as far as humans went. Her body-type was pointedly in the minority in this establishment. Her frame held more weight than the leaner humans at the bar and in the crowd.

  Val’Koy wasn’t focused on that but on his undeniable intrigue of what a mating with a human would consist of. Was it comparable to the concubines he was accustomed to bedding?

  Precarious, he presumed. Humans were easily broken. He wondered how pliable they were. Did they only mate one way? One position? He had yet to find out what oral was.

  Judging by the reactions his siblings displayed, when their human mate threatened to never perform it again, it was mystical enough to inspire groveling.

  The splotchy red deepened, causing his brow to lower over one eye in annoyance. Could she not control that?

  He lifted the glass to his lips, ready to take another pull when suddenly, icy cold water blasted his face. Nearby patrons gasped or shrieked in their attempt to get away from the frigid spray.

  Glass dropping to the counter, he quickly stood, backing up and sputtering as he dragged a hand over his dripping face and flung the droplets to the floor.

  “A’Drast’s mane!” he growled. “What the—”

  “Ask me again and see what happens!” the red-faced female yelled at him, looking as if she were ready to hop the bar and tackle him. The kind of tackle he wouldn’t like.

  Water dribbled from his chin, dropping on the floor between his booted feet as he stared at the woman. “A simple no would have sufficed.”

  She shrugged, holding the small hose, her thumb resting lightly on the button, ready to spray him again if she felt so inclined. “No.”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek.

  “Pay for your drink and get out,” she told him, sliding a tablet across the bar.