The Melier: Prodigal Son

by Poppy Rhys

  “Wait...” she breathed, opening her eyes. Seeing Jru on the island, passed out, yanked her from the moment. “Stop... Stop it!” She shoved at his shoulders.

  “What? What is it?” His black eyes blinked, chest heaved with every heavy breath he inhaled, and Dania almost got sucked back in.

  “We can’t do this.” She scrubbed her face and placed a hand on his chest to keep him back.

  “Yes, we can.” His voice; like melted spiced chocolate that coated her tongue and beckoned her to take another lick.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Jru’s hurt, and you’re covered in—in... people.”

  “And you stink like a dirty wolvenk.” He grinned and dove for her mouth again, but Dania turned her head.

  “Real romantic.” She sucked her teeth but had to hold back laughter. Dania knew she stank after riding River’s back. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t smell the pungent odor on herself.

  “I try.”

  “Keep practicing.” Smirking, she gave his shoulder another shove. “Go take a shower.”

  He grumbled, causing her hand that flattened on his chest to tremor. He gripped her thighs and squeezed, claws indenting the flesh there. Face so close to hers, he licked his lips with that big, bumpy, pink tongue and promised, “I will have you.”

  Dania bit into her cheek to keep from moaning. “Maybe you will, but certainly not right now.”

  “Human—”

  “Melier,” she shot right back. They stared each other down until finally Val’Koy slyly smiled and stepped away.

  “I think I will shower.”

  Dania crossed her arms, lifting a brow and nodding. “Uh huh. Sounds like a great idea.”

  When he left the room, she slid to her feet and shook herself. One thing was absolutely clear: kitchen countertops were dangerous. She moved away from it quickly and checked on Jru before she explored the lounge.

  An orange cushioned bench curved in a half circle was positioned to the right of the room in front of an exterior window. A circular table occupied the middle, stacked with abandoned mugs, a hologrid game, and books.

  Actual books!

  With bindings and made of paper. Novels and magazines and pamphlets lined the ledge behind the bench and filled the built-in pocket shelves. Plenty were in languages she didn’t understand, and some were in English while others were Lotyne and Za—the trade languages.

  Made her wonder about the true owner and what they’d been doing on Tundrin, because most of the books appeared to be either about peaceful civilizations or alien botany.

  “Hmm...” Guess you never really know a person.

  The sound of sniffing drew her attention, and she turned to see River prowling around the kitchen, nosing through the cupboards. She silently laughed as she witnessed him suss out the refrigeration cabinet and confiscate a hunk of covered meat.

  He carried it between his jaws as he sank to the floor, out of sight, and scarfed it.

  “Hungry?”

  “Mm,” he grunted, and the crunchy splintering of bone reached her ears.

  Her mom would like River. She’d always been an alien animal lover.

  Mom. Her eyes lit.

  “Zed?”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “I need to make a call.”

  “Long distance communications are unavailable at this time.”

  Dania set down the botany book and straightened. “Why?”

  “Primary radio is damaged.”

  “Well, can you walk me through the repair?” Working for a communications company—coincidentally when she’d met her ex—even just for a short time, had taught her how to at least connect wires. If she had an A.I. instructing her, she was confident she could fix it.

  “It has received irreparable damage, Captain. The part must be replaced.”

  “Does cargo have spare parts?”

  “It does, though a primary radio is not among the extras according to the most recent manifest.”

  “Shit. Where can we find one?”

  “Any spacecraft mechanical shop specializing in discontinued models.”

  That narrowed it down. This thing was practically an antique.

  “What’s the extent of communications, Zed?”

  “Local, Captain. A five hundred-kilometer range. Secondary radio remains intact.”

  This couldn’t be good. Traveling without long distance communication was like walking through Bocern’s violent slums—if something happened, you had to pray someone was close enough to hear you scream and willing to help.

  A deep groggy groan distracted her.

  “Jruviin?” She hurried to his side. He rolled onto his back with a heavy sigh. “Hey, sleepy head.” Dania smiled down at him, reaching out to stroke his feathered cheek with the back of her pointer finger.

  Jru lazily grinned at her, his sharp teeth flashing. His glazed, dreamy stare hinted that he still suffered the effects of whatever tranquilizer Val’Koy shot him with.

  “So beautiful,” he cooed, reaching up to stroke her curls.

  Dania chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re drugged.”

  “Still beautiful.”

  The heat of a blush reached her face and she wanted to hide it. How could Jru make her feel that way? The topsy turvy, over the hill, simulated rollercoaster flutter in the pit of her stomach? It made her limbs feel gooey and her heart patter.

  “I didn’t know you had such a foul mouth.” She softly laughed when he mumbled and shook his head. “Kinda liked it.”

  “Come closer,” he rasped, and Dania felt herself leaning in. “Closer still.”

  Their noses were nearly touching when she stopped. Her breath mingled with his and Dania tried to calm her beating heart. Jru tilted his face and met her the last inch, his firm, warm lips pressing against her mouth.

  “Mmm,” he hummed, and she gave up on trying to control her pulse as it fluttered from that innocent contact.

  Just a kiss.

  When they broke apart, she had to remember to open her eyelids. The room felt fuzzy and she had the urge to curl into his warm side and keep kissing him.

  “Where is he?”

  She cleared her throat. “He’s bathing.”

  “A bath sounds nice.”

  Something niggled at the edge of her mind, and she looked away and stood up.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “What is bothering you?”

  Dania scratched the back of her neck. She wondered if she was that easy to read or if Jruviin and Val’Koy were that perceptive.

  She didn’t know if it was the soft strokes of his talons against her collarbone or the roiling mixed emotions she experienced, but she whispered, “Why would you do that? Leave Val behind?”

  His talons moved back to her curls, brushing gently through the twisted locks. "You are most important.” His hoarse voice etched delicious circles over her skin, the smoky whisper a soothing tune, even now. “To me, to him, and even to River.”

  Most important, he said. She was most important to him, to Val’Koy, and River.

  “Val’Koy would not abandon you."

  Dania let it sink in. Jruviin hadn’t left Val’Koy as she’d initially thought. She felt nothing but relief as she realized she’d read the situation wrong.

  He’d told River to keep going because he knew Val’Koy would be back with them soon.

  Sometimes she forgot they knew each other on a deeper level. Maybe they hadn’t shared intricate details of their past lives, but they trusted each other. They’d been a team accustomed to fighting against death.

  "I would not willingly risk your life, Dania.” He closed his eyes and murmured, “Most important.”

  She turned her face to kiss his palm. "Thank you."

  She wouldn’t get emotional and tear up. Not now. Instead she cleared her throat and asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I have been lanced and jabbed with a hot poker,” he gruffly replied, opening h
is eyes again.

  “Oh, so, you remember.” Dania snickered and Jruviin’s tail thumped the metal island, filling the room with a hollow sound, but he at least smiled.

  “Zed, call Melierun,” Val’Koy ordered, emerging from the antechamber that all the ship’s doors surrounded.

  Buck naked.

  “Long distance communications are unavailable at this time.”

  “The uh,” she stumbled, “um, the radio. Primary radio is borked.”

  Val’Koy’s relatively pleasant demeanor instantly switched, and she thought he might be feeling the same sense of unease she’d experienced upon hearing the news. “Can it be repaired?”

  “Nope. Has to be replaced.” When he opened his mouth again, Dania quickly added, “And Zed already said there’s not a spare on board.”

  He scrubbed his head with his upper arms and scratched his bare, rippled, marked up middle with his lower set. “A’Drast’s mane,” he cursed.

  “Why are you naked?”

  As if he’d forgotten, he looked down his body and then announced, “The shower is free.”

  The ship creaked, the daunting sound of stretching metal kicking her straight into an alert state. “Zed? What was that?”

  “Exiting warp.”

  “Why?” she could hear the edge of terror in her own voice, the list of possible things that could go wrong growing by the nanosecond.

  “The ship is incapable of continuing in warp travel, Captain. Prior damage sustained would soon split the hull.”

  “So, you’re saying we have to travel at normal speeds. How long until we reach Vishik?”

  “Calculating...”

  Dania caught Val’Koy’s eyes set in his grim face.

  “In Universal Standard it would take one-hundred eighty-nine years, three months, one hour and four minutes to reach destination.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  DANIA

  Her lungs deflated.

  A baritone chuckle broke the silence and Dania regarded Val’Koy. He held his head and laughed.

  “How is this funny? What is wrong with you?”

  “His mind has broken.” Jru lifted into a sit, hissing and shedding a feather. “He lasted longer than I calculated.”

  “Fuck you,” Val’Koy snapped.

  “Never mind.” Jru canted his head to examine his patched wound. “He is fine.”

  The dire situation had her leaning against the island to keep herself upright. One shit storm after another. They got off the planet only to be stranded in space.

  Okay, not stranded, but moving at a bygone speed. They’d die, starve to death, before they ever reached a trade planet.

  Breathe, girl. Think this through.

  She inhaled and exhaled. “Zed are there any inhabited planets within reach?”

  “Yes, Captain. There are three.”

  “Which ones have treaties with the Intergalactic Coalition?”

  “None.”

  Dania flinched at that single word. “What?” she asked, disbelieving. “Repeat.”

  “No nearby planets have treaties with the Intergalactic Coalition.”

  Jruviin groaned. “That cannot be good.”

  Not good was right. Treaties fostered goodwill between worlds and species, and for situations like this, allowed for protection if in danger, or at least granted a call for help. It kept something like the Hae’deth games from forming.

  “Okay,” she drawled and rubbed her temples. “Which planets have an atmosphere safe for us?”

  “One.”

  Dania exhaled, nodding as if Zed could see her. “Great, great, one is better than zero.” She had to think positively. “What planet? How soon can we reach it?”

  “Planet Equah, Captain. It is viewable from this distance if you look outside. At current maximum speed, we will arrive in five months.”

  “Five?! Are there enough rations on this craft to last us that long?”

  “Calculating...”

  Dania moved to the bench, eyes searching space through the window there. She leaned back when the viewscreen pinpointed and magnified a tiny, brown hued planet. Val and Jru drew close to get a look.

  “That it?” Val asked.

  “Must be.”

  “Negative, Captain. I calculate there are enough food units to sustain current crew for four weeks.”

  Dania buried her face into her hands and tried to breath correctly, think rationally, but her panic got away with her.

  They would never make it home.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  DANIA

  “How long, Zed?” Dania whispered to the A.I. while she sat in the piloting chair, staring at the magnified planet they’d never reach in time. From what she could see, it had more dry land mass than water, and barely any cloud coverage.

  “Two weeks, five hours, and twenty minutes, Captain,” he faithfully responded.

  Dania tucked her toes into River’s fur as he laid under her feet and snoozed. He’d squeezed in close, staying by her side whenever possible through the weeks.

  Every night—or what her body said night was after adjusting to Tundrin—she came to the bridge, sat in the captain’s chair, and asked Zed how many days they’d been on the craft. Somehow the smaller number was easier to hear than the amount of time they had left in the five months stretch.

  She’d ransacked the cargo, searching for extra food and equipment, just in case Zed had missed something. An act of desperation, but it was unfruitful. Zed had been right.

  It didn’t stop Val’Koy and Jruviin from attempting to repair the primary radio. That ended badly. Needless to say, the cargo hold was a wreck.

  She kept hoping the planet—Equah—would pick up their signal, but it hadn’t happened yet. They had space technology, according to Zed, so she couldn’t figure out why no one had contacted them when they’d neared.

  Dania chuckled to herself, resting her head against the chair and eyeing the stars in the black expanse. Off to the left, a pretty gray-blue nebula cut the void with a splash of color. Ribbons of copper and green snaked through it.

  At least she had something nice to look while she slowly died.

  Okay, that was a bit morbid.

  Maybe she’d already lost it—laughing at the idea of having a good view whenever she bit the dust. That wasn’t normal, right?

  She was angry. Angry and sad, and yes, maybe she’d given up hope. Nothing seemed to go right these days.

  That was a lie. Jruviin was doing great. Val’Koy had been truthful when he said Draekiin’s were fast healers, and she was thankful for that.

  She nibbled her bottom lip as she thought about the arena, when she was sure she’d been about to get ravaged—she wished she’d spent her time better. Hard to believe she was nostalgic for that place.

  Dania peered over her shoulder at the doors that led to the ship’s single cabin—Jruviin and Val’Koy were asleep there. Naked and asleep—apparently the way they preferred to catch Z’s.

  Just under two weeks until they’d run out of food, a little longer for water, and she was out here, having a pity fest while staring at the fucking stars.

  What else could she be doing right now?

  Who else could she be doing right now?

  She hadn’t touched either of them the whole time she’d been on the ship. They hadn’t touched her in return. Dania knew they watched her closely, could feel their presence whenever they were nearby, but only that. She thought it might be obvious her state of mind wasn’t exactly right.

  She may have randomly burst into tears a few times. Who could blame her? The impending doom of starving to death was fucking terrifying.

  How to better spend my time?

  Standing, she decided something. If she was going to die in a couple weeks—a few if she got lucky—she wanted to knock some things off the bucket list.

  Order of business numero uno: prepare, because fucking two guys at the same time required... a plan.

  A while later, Dania stood naked at th
e foot of the bed, the only light the glow of the nearby moons shining in through the cabin’s window.

  Her guys were sprawled on either side, the empty spot in the middle meant for her. She gently grasped the sheet and pulled. Pulled so slowly, so quietly, it felt as if she’d stood there for a star’s lifetime.

  Dania swallowed, eyes wide while the sheet, inch by inch, revealed their hard, battle scarred bodies. Little pale blue scratches marked up Val’Koy’s chest, a long, jagged one inched down the left side of his torso, while Jruviin’s scars were hidden beneath his feathers, a secret from the world; she wondered if she’d ever feel out all of them. His covering of feathers lay flat now, gleaming in the moonlight and outlining every beautiful ripple of muscle his toned body had.

  She loved Val's hands.

  The bones, the tendons, and the sinewy look of them even while rested. Long fingers that were tipped in thick, destructive claws instead of blunt, flat nails like a human man, didn't make them any less beautiful.

  In fact... they stirred her interest.

  The differences between her and her guys, their ability to kill her quicker than a striking serpent, felt like living on the edge. Dania knew neither would ever intentionally harm her.

  It was the unintentional part that excited her. Was she wrong for that? The unknown danger of intimacy with an alien predator didn’t make her shrink in horror—it caused her to inch closer.

  Most important, Jruviin had said of her. His words replayed in her mind all the time.

  They were her monsters.

  When they became hers, she couldn’t pinpoint—they were now.

  “River?” she probed, closing her eyes.

  “Mine?”

  “Stay out of my head for a little while, okay?” she sheepishly requested. “I don’t know if you can but try?”

  Dania swallowed a chuckle when River snuffed a gnarr that sounded irritated. She heard it clearly, as if he were in the room instead of somewhere else in the ship.

  “Thanks buddy,” she whispered, and reopened her eyes.

  Val’Koy was awake, propped up on his upper elbows and silently observing her. A sheen of light glanced off his eyes which were fully black.

  What must he see? A naked woman standing there with half the sheet clutched between her curled fingers, leering at their masculine bodies while they slept?