The Melier: Prodigal Son Read online

  Their gazes locked, her nearly black irises throwing a challenge his way. He held the stare as he pressed his thumb to the tablet.

  “Out.”

  Val’Koy didn’t bother apologizing, figuring his ruined robe was payment enough. She overreacted. Was it not generous of him to offer her compensation for a night of experimentation, and possibly, fun?

  He sneered and turned to leave. “As you wish.”

  THREE

  DANIA

  It was early by the time she left the bar and melded into the crowded sidewalk. Early for her, anyway. Midnight was late for a lot of working folks in the capital, but it seemed the city never slept. Thankfully the creep who’d been visiting the bar every night had left a couple hours ago, though she’d been too flustered to actually confront him after that jerk propositioned her.

  Did she have a halo-sign blinking over her head that read ‘I love creeps’ or what?

  Dania paused and studied her reflection in a nearby darkened shop window, lamely chuffing that she had actually checked.

  She pulled her thin glass comm from her jacket pocket. It fit comfortably into the palm of her hand as she tapped against it, executing the memorized pattern that connected her to the person she wanted to talk to most right now: Terry, her boyfriend.

  “Hey!” she gushed when he eventually answered. “I was starting to think you were asleep.”

  “Nah,” Terry said flatly. “Just busy.”

  “Oh.” Dania’s brow wrinkled. “At midnight?”

  “Yeah.”

  She waited for an explanation and when it didn’t come, the silence stretched on. “Okay...” she drawled.

  “We gotta talk,” he finally said.

  Why did those three words make her stomach flip over like she was going to hurl? And before she could utter a word, he nailed the door to her coffin.

  “This isn’t working out.”

  Dania halted so fast, if her feet were tires they would’ve squealed. Someone bumped her shoulder, barely skirting to the left to avoid crashing into her. “You’re breaking up with me over the comm?”

  The city sounds around her blended together, turning into a deafening buzz.

  “Don’t act like this is a surprise, hon.”

  “But...” Dania took a breath, brain trying to wrap around what the hell was happening. “But why? I thought we were good. I thought—I thought—”

  “Sweetheart,” he cut her off, “you know how I feel about... well, you know.”

  If her heart was physically capable of sinking into her stomach, it would’ve.

  “Say it, Terry.” Her skin heated, and her fingers curled around the comm. “Go ahead and man the fuck up!”

  “Now, baby—”

  “Stop with the fucking pet-names!” They used to make her melt, now it just grated her nerves and felt demeaning.

  “What has gotten into you?”

  “You’re dumping me over twenty pounds, Terry.” She ground her knuckles into her forehead. “Twenty pounds!”

  “I don’t have time for this,” he sighed. “Bye.”

  “Terry—”

  Beep, went the comm signaling the ended connection.

  He disconnected on her!

  Dania stared at the comm, mouth agape, her brain trying to piece together what just happened.

  Not only did Terry—her boyfriend of over one year—dump her, but he did it because of her extra weight.

  Twenty pounds.

  Her gaze darted over the passersby who weaved around her, oblivious to the fact she’d just been body shamed by a guy she wasted fourteen months on.

  She’d never been a slim girl. She had a belly pudge, thighs that could be feasted on for a few days at least, and everything else in between, but Terry knew that about her. Clearly. It was hard to hide.

  Then again, she’d met him at the capital gym.

  Dania ground her teeth. She should’ve known better. Not that she believed all gym-goers were assholes, but Terry was that guy. The guy that gave every other fitness junky a bad name.

  She’d only been there to fix a network issue that couldn’t be resolved remotely—her last job before the diner—when she ran into him. She wasn’t there to work out.

  Ha!

  No, she didn’t do exercise. The rigorous walking to and from work had been all she’d needed until her accident.

  The pounds had admittedly piled on during her down time, but they’d go away once things got back to normal. She was sure of it.

  Apparently, Terry liked her fat, just not too fat.

  “What a fucking prick,” she grated, angrily shoving her comm back into her pocket. Had their time together not grown past the physical? She was still herself, still Dania.

  Did she complain that he was freakishly obsessed with the size of his calves? No, because that didn’t matter to her. He was still Terry. Despite all his many faults, he had a knack for making her laugh. That sense of humor, paired with his disarming smile, could—and did—charm the pants right off her.

  Ugh. Why did she fall for the bad apples?

  She turned, deciding to take a detour, and made for the small crowd heading to the skybridge. Her irritability grew with each step until she was sweeping into the convenience store a block from her apartment.

  It had the best selection of sweets.

  Maybe it wasn’t the best thing—rage binging—but it certainly fucking felt like it as she started down the cocoa aisle. She perused the multiple glittering machines and their menus, jabbing her finger against the corresponding button whenever something struck her fancy.

  She forcefully snatched up the next bag of malted chocolate and tossed it into the hover basket that followed her.

  “‘Doesn’t that contain dairy products?’” she mocked Terry under her breath, reveling in the satisfying, if childish, pleasure it gave her.

  “It sure as fuck does,” she sing-songed. “I’ll take two more.”

  Into the basket they went.

  “‘Think about the sugar content’,” Dania mimicked. “Sounds delicious.” She hummed a tune and plopped it atop the pile, starting on the next aisle.

  She came to an abrupt stop, the hover basket bumping into her back.

  As if her night couldn’t get any worse, the extremely rude alien from the bar, whom she’d sprayed, was standing two rows over, staring at her.

  The amusement that danced in his eyes when he’d propositioned her was gone. The glacial green? That was gone too, replaced by a sinister black that bled over the entirety of his orbs.

  The back of her neck itched, but she ignored it.

  Some aliens had warning signs and, working around the bar, she'd learned a few.

  For instance, the Guglioka’s antennae curled tight if they were agitated, an Errtenk’s throat glowed a menacing orange if it were about to spit, and the stripes upon a Rifopo’s body pelt strobed white, like some dangerous marine creature, right before it started a bar fight.

  Point being, Dania knew many predators came with built-in indicators so physically weaker species—like humans—could skitter away before they got creamed.

  Her intuition was pinging and the urge to flee was hard to resist because right now? His black eyes stalked her from the retro candy aisle.

  As much as her brain warned her to get the fuck out, her sour mood and unyielding sugar addiction told her that bag of replicated Skittles she knew were down the next aisle and directly in front of him—that bag was hers and she'd fight for it.

  ****

  VAL’KOY

  Her.

  The female from Revolution 5 talked to herself as she tossed bags of human treats into her basket. Her pale skin was flushed, the bun atop her head even frizzier than before, and her body was strung tight when she halted and stared at him.

  Val’Koy’s fingers curled into fists. He could strum her like an instrument with how rigid she’d gone.

  An extremely uncomfortable, frenzied sensation had gripped his olfactory organs as
soon as she entered the small store.

  It was hard to breathe.

  His blood sang in his veins, and his annex had never gotten so stiff so quickly in his entire existence.

  Pheromones.

  Her pheromones. A peppery floral scent with notes of midnight rain and her fragrant sweat.

  They’d been hidden underneath the muddy mash of scents filling the club when she’d served him his drink. He hadn’t realized he’d propositioned the most mouthwatering creature he’d ever smelled. What could he say, he had good instincts.

  Somehow, some way, he would have to be more persuasive. In retrospect, offering monetary compensation to a human female for a night of experimentation may not have been the smartest move.

  He would’ve been queasy at his line of thinking—tiptoeing around the feelings of a human—if her pheromones weren’t so fucking delicious.

  She remained silent as she moved closer. His eyes tracked her movements easily. His height afforded him an unobstructed view over the aisles, and he thanked A’Drast for the smaller stature of humans.

  Val’Koy didn’t think the store owner would appreciate it if he tore down machines to keep watch on the female.

  Every sense heightened to an acute degree—the fluorescent lights stung his vision, the hum of the refrigeration cabinets and constant dinging of a toy machine boomed in his sensitive ears. His base instincts attuned to his surroundings, preparing to eliminate anything that may interfere with his chance to keep this female’s attention.

  His heart beat furiously. This was new. He’d never been this aware, never felt these sensations. Was this the intensity his brothers experienced when around their human mate?

  His jaw relaxed, lips parting, and he inhaled through his mouth to lightly taste the air.

  Val’Koy barely stifled a groan.

  “Excuse me,” she said, stopping directly beside him. The small thing—compared to a Melier—was within arm’s reach. The harsh light caught the thrumming pulse that beat in her neck. He could almost smell her fear. Fear she hid so very well.

  She said something else, but he wasn’t paying attention because her hand was nearing him. Her fingers grasped an item, the tinkling of its contents and crunching of the bag loud against his ears.

  His upper left hand shot out, grasping her wrist.

  She pulled back. “These are my Skittles.”

  Her territorial tone, her claim over the bag of treats, helped tamp down his overstimulated senses.

  Immediately, he let her go.

  ****

  DANIA

  Dania didn’t like how weird his brief imprisonment of her wrist made her feel. However, after she staked her claim and threw the bag of replicated Skittles in her basket, the towering alien guy seemed a little less feral than before.

  “I see your robe is dry.” She gestured and cleared her throat. His wide mouth twitched. “I should probably apologize, but you had it coming.”

  “Yes,” he murmured, the black of his eyes slowly shrinking until the glacial green could be seen near the corners. “Why were you talking to yourself?”

  “Because I’m mad.”

  He canted his head to the side and jabbed a finger at the basket. “Humans babble to themselves and buy baskets of treats when they are angry?”

  Dania dug her tongue into her cheek, refusing to look at her half-filled basket. “We all have different coping mechanisms.”

  She moved down the aisle, randomly snatching whatever caught her eye. “Some drink, some do drugs, some—”

  “Fuck?”

  Her fingers tightened on the bag she’d just grabbed for a second too long, earning her a taunting rumble from the rude stranger.

  “Yeah,” she snapped, trying to stop the smirk that wanted to betray her. “Some fuck.”

  Dania dipped into the next aisle, faintly irritated when the stranger trailed her. The fine hairs rose along her arms, her body instinctively knowing a predatory alien was at her back. Docile species didn’t have hooked claws and powerful jaws filled with sharp teeth. They didn’t move with lethal silence.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” He had no basket.

  “Exploring human culture.”

  “And this is where you ended up?”

  He then snatched up two small bags of candy without looking. “Gifts,” he said simply.

  Her eyes squinted, and she breathed a small, disbelieving laugh. “Okay, Mister, you don’t have to tell me.”

  “What has made you angry?” he probed just as Dania spotted two guards posted at the door. She’d been so incensed upon arriving, she hadn’t even noticed them.

  She quickly glanced over her shoulder. It wasn’t unusual for businessmen to hire protection. Happened often enough at the capital, but someone like that had never propositioned her or followed her through candy aisles before.

  Pointedly ignoring the question—she had no desire to talk about how Terry dumped her before she started rage buying sugar—she asked, “You’re not one of those species that likes to eat humans, are you?”

  “I am Melier.”

  “Okay...” she dragged, brow wrinkling. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

  His chin dipped curiously before he answered, “I do not eat humans.”

  When no wicked gleam gave any indication that his mind had veered into the gutter—like hers seemed to do—she nodded slowly. “Good. So, do you live around here or...” her eyes slid to the guards again, “are you here on business?”

  Again, he sent her an inquisitive stare. “You do not watch your global news threads?”

  Dania made her way to the counter, punching in her citizen identification number to pay for the basket of junk. “I prefer scripted drama, not the real kind.”

  “Ahh yes, humans and their love of the projector vids.”

  She could feel the intensity of his heavy gaze. She pressed her thumb to the screen when prompted by the droid cashier to finish the transfer of funds before she faced the alien. The closer he stood, the farther back she had to tilt her head.

  His inky pupils did a jig, nostrils subtly flaring. Despite his predatory eeriness, he had pretty eyes, if a little scary.

  “Okay,” she blurted, accepting the biodegradable bag from the droid.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Okay,” she said again, more firmly. She had an entire bag of candy, and while she could easily put herself into a sugar coma—and oh, she would—she also didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. And if she were being honest, this stranger seeking her attention... it was evidence that she was beautiful at any weight. “I’m taking you up on your offer, but I don’t want your money.”

  That wicked slant to his eyes came back, the look that had been glued to his face at the bar.

  “Wh—”

  “No questions,” she interrupted, momentarily sighting the guards. “No strings, no money. This is just a rebound. My place. Are you in or not?”

  A slow smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth and he dipped his chin in a slow nod.

  “Lead the way.”

  FOUR

  DANIA

  The short walk back to her apartment, in the crisp chill of evening air, had Dania second guessing her state of mind.

  Terry just dumped her and, not even an hour later, she was taking a stranger—a rude, alien stranger—to her apartment for a quick lay.

  Her temper had driven her to an irrational decision, which was so unlike her.

  She covertly side-eyed him. He was covered from neck to toe in a white robe, matching pants and soft-soled, form-fitting boots.

  In truth he wasn’t so different, she tried to tell herself. He walked upright on two legs, had two eyes, and opposable thumbs... on all four of his claw-tipped hands.

  Wow. Apparently, her standards for a one-nighter didn’t consist of much at all.

  That wasn’t true though. This stranger held intelligence in his eyes, it wasn’t only ravening scrutiny. If she was being honest, that combination
of brains and brawn kept telling her prey-senses she needed to flee.

  The end of his thickly-furred, cobalt tail, the same color as his skin, curled up at the tip, so it didn’t drag along the ground. It deftly flicked twice—tick, tock. Her eyes darted upward.

  He watched her.

  Normally Dania didn’t stare—it was rude, and she hated being stared at—but considering the circumstances, she felt justified. She was planning on letting this guy into her apartment, her bed, her... body. A harmless, surreptitious examination seemed warranted.

  Not for the first time tonight she questioned her choice. She’d never been with someone so other. He would be her first. Her first non-human. Today wouldn’t be the day Terry broke up with her over the comm, it would be the day she slept with an alien.

  That settled it then. This was happening.

  “Have we arrived?” He turned to look up at the building.

  “Uh,” she bumbled, realizing she’d stopped walking. “No, it’s the next building.” She picked up the pace and shook her head.

  Get it together, Dania.

  At the lobby’s elevators, the scanners recognized her unique chemical presence, and with a pleasant ping, the glass door slid aside.

  The walk was short, her apartment only a couple of doors down the hall. Just as she pressed her palm against the flat lockpad, the stranger gripped her arm and one of his bodyguards barged into her home.

  “What the—”

  “Protocol,” the stranger said by way of explanation.

  “Protocol?” she echoed and stood by as the stoic alien swept through her apartment like an actor in a vid. Dania barely bit down on her tongue before she asked, who are you?

  No questions. No strings. No names.

  The bodyguard exited and sent a single nod to the guy who held her arm hostage. He finally let go, and she hesitantly walked over the threshold.

  “They’re just... going to stand there?” Dania’s gaze darted from the stranger to his entourage that took up guard outside her door.

  “Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you want them to come in?”

  “No!” she blurted, and inwardly cringed. Her guest smirked. “Sorry, no,” she amended politely, “it’s okay, they can stay out there.”