The Melier: Prodigal Son

by Poppy Rhys

  Despite wanting to believe she was wrong, she didn’t think this was a hallucination.

  Across the shop stood people who resembled Jruviin. They were his species. Avian beings with colorful feathers. Only their faces were visible through the clear shield of their helmet. Their bodies were covered in a bronze, sleek body armor and their clawed hands were loaded down with guns. Big guns nearly the length of her body.

  Clearly Jruviin’s people saved the best for themselves.

  “Your arrival was unexpectedly swift.” Jruviin pushed back his black hood and kept his tail still. The barbs glinted in the overhead light.

  He knew they were coming? She raced through her immediate memory. When had he called them?

  Dania followed his line of sight. The one in front of the small army took another step forward and his helmet receded, folding back and melding into his body armor.

  The similarities between her mate and the newcomer were unmistakable. This was Jruviin’s father.

  The colors were different. His father’s quills were a lighter blue veined through with much more hunter green, but the black bandit mask of tiny feathers streaking across his face—that gave it away. No other person in his army had that odd physical trait.

  “We were nearby,” the father replied, his pupils the size of pinpricks in his dark copper eyes that slid in her direction. She found it curious that Jruviin’s eyes were a solid black yet none of the others were... “The bounty on your head is admirable.”

  Admirable?

  What kind of psychopath—

  “Is that why you came, Piktiin? To collect?” Jruviin’s jaw tensed, his feathers shifting just slightly. She imagined if he had flat teeth, he’d be grinding them right about now. Kinda gave it away when he called his father by his name.

  “On the contrary.” Piktiin’s mouth tugged upward on one side. “As I said, my ship is prepared to take you wherever you desire.”

  A sick mix of hope and mistrust swirled inside her just as another stinging spasm ripped through her abdomen. Dania cried out, unprepared to bite through it. Val’Koy’s arms curled tighter and she muffled her next outburst against his shoulder.

  The pain was getting steadily worse. Each time they lasted longer and got more intense. This one just wasn’t going away.

  A sensation akin to millions of needles stabbing her guts over and over had her in its grasp and wouldn’t let go.

  River’s high-pitched whine reached her from various directions as if he circled her mates.

  “Mine? Dania?” he pushed into her head repeatedly, but Dania couldn’t find the mental capacity to respond or even draw air.

  ****

  VAL’KOY

  Val’Koy made a conscious effort to lighten his hold on Dania, else he’d squeeze her to death. Her agonized keening set his pulse to thrumming and his claws steadily grew, curling into her clothing as he tried his best not to puncture holes in the fabric.

  Dania needed a medic that knew human anatomy. Someone who understood interspecies reproduction, and Val’Koy knew of only one man.

  Dr. Trex.

  Lucia’s physician that’d helped her through each human-Melier pregnancy. They needed Dr. Trex’s team, they needed the resources Tuzon had—the trusted royal medic.

  “We have to get her to my home,” Val’Koy said to Jruviin when the Draekiin appeared in front of him, worried gaze on Dania as his talons gingerly stroked her bruised cheek.

  “Piktiin will take us.”

  Val’Koy’s eyes snapped to Jruviin. He couldn't be serious.

  “No.”

  Jruviin sighed, looking about as excited by the idea as Val’Koy felt.

  “He is untrustworthy. He sold y—”

  “I know what he did. Better than anyone,” Jruviin quietly snapped and they glared at each other. “If you have another option, feel free to voice it any time.”

  Jruviin didn’t back down. Val'Koy’s eyes slid over his partner’s shoulder to scan Piktiin. An older version of Jruviin, except he had more green in his crest feathers and his quills didn't hold the youthful luster Jruviin’s had.

  A hard expression had his black feathered brow bunching and his rust colored eyes narrowed on what he could see of Dania. It burned Val’Koy’s scales. Piktiin didn’t deserve to look upon her.

  "We cannot go with him. We will find another way."

  Jruviin’s black gaze bored holes into him as he seriously asked, "Are you willing to risk her life on it?"

  Fucking A’Drast’s mane!

  Val’Koy’s teeth clenched so tightly they began to ache.

  "My father may be a quaz, but he has never lied to me. If he says he can assist," Jruviin’s tail twitched as he begrudgingly admitted, "he will assist."

  It was clear the Draekiin liked this idea about as much as he did—not at fucking all—but he was thinking of Dania. It was something Val’Koy should consider...

  Tension choked the air as River continued to circle them, his uneasy snarls and ear-aching whine, every time Dania whimpered, was eroding his patience. He knew it had nothing to do with the protective wolvenk and everything to do with their lack of options.

  “Fine,” Val’Koy lowly bit out. “But if he breathes in her direction—”

  “We both get a piece of that action.”

  FORTY-NINE

  JRUVIIN

  It got extremely difficult to keep from rampaging the longer Dania’s screams and tortured mewls went on.

  Jruviin teetered on the fine edge of a blade. It didn’t matter that Piktiin had never gone against his word—stepping foot on his father’s ship went against everything his instinct demanded.

  Val’Koy followed behind him, and River trailed close, walking upright as they trekked at a fast pace toward the expanse of a nearby port. Dania was surrounded, yet it took a considerable amount of effort to set aside his blood lust.

  Illogical thought wouldn’t help anyone right now, but he’d changed since his last encounter with Piktiin and his team. His instinct, and that deranged Tundrin mindset, sought bloodshed. Irrational didn’t even begin to describe it because, in the end, violence would get them nowhere.

  It’s not like they had a functioning ship. Especially since the repair shop was a bloody crime scene—highly unlikely anyone alive would be willing to work on their ship now.

  The Greesh would send more mercenaries, and Sau-sai would undoubtedly dedicate all their resources to finding them if they stayed hub-side any longer.

  Logically... this was a sound decision. Jruviin just needed his instinct to get with the fucking program.

  Dania belted another scream half muffled under Val’Koy’s hand. A newly formed headache pounded in Jruviin’s skull.

  “I can’t—can’t take this anymore!” she cried, the sound pitiful and yanking on his emotions.

  “Just a while longer, love,” Val’Koy crooned so lowly, Jruviin strained to hear it.

  Dania answered with another agonized wail, writhing in his arms. Her pain was growing steadily worse if her screams were any indication.

  Dread filled him. He’d had a part in this. After their first time, he didn’t think it was possible—reproduction between their species. His eggs had dissolved—he’d seen it!

  He’d thought all of them disintegrated with every orgasm Dania had. Maybe he’d miscounted. It wasn’t exactly the priority while stranded in space. He’d been enjoying what time they had left and had believed they would all die out here.

  They filed onto the ship and Piktiin dropped back beside him.

  “Is a medic on board?”

  Piktiin shook his head. “Not one who can assist the female, if that is why you ask.”

  Jruviin hissed a breath.

  “Come to me soon,” Piktiin instructed, walking away. “You know where your quarters are.”

  The black and gray interior of the ship was starkly different than the small b’oto craft he and his mates lived aboard since Tundrin that Zed had dubbed The Toothless Wench. Orange l
ights ran down each corridor, casting a sinister hue, and the recycled air smelled of spiced smoking herb.

  He hated this ship. Xuy’Ree-o, Piktiin called it, which roughly translated to Demon. It always spooked him as a fledgling.

  “This way.” He waved an arm and started down a hall. He peered over his shoulder. Dania’s breathing labored, and her brow dotted with perspiration while she blinked, seemingly fighting consciousness.

  The onyx door to his old rooms in the ship slid up, disappearing into the wall overhead. It looked exactly as he’d left it.

  Two black armchairs and a couch in the living space, and beyond it, visible through the open door, lay a low platform bed covered in dusky purple sheets.

  “Lay her down,” he stated, pulling back the fabric. Her head lolled in Val’Koy’s arms, signaling she’d lost the fight for consciousness.

  Val’Koy sat beside her, gingerly pushing back her blonde curls from her damp face. “What if she loses them?” he whispered.

  Jruviin stopped himself from reeling back as a cold chill zipped down his body. “Why would you say that?”

  “I heard something once, when my brothers thought they were alone.” He swallowed, the knot in his throat visibly bobbing. “They spoke of nearly losing their first youngling before they had the help of Dr. Trex.”

  Egg rejection wasn’t a new concept. It happened. It was a part of life, even if the lesson was shitty and seemingly without purpose, but the thought of Dania going through that left a heavy stone in his stomach.

  “I do not think we have much time,” he finished just as River climbed into the bed beside Dania and curled around her as if the contact soothed him. The eerie resignation in Val’Koy’s tone only amped up Jruviin’s unrest.

  “I have to talk to Piktiin,” he concluded, voice gruff. Val’Koy’s hand shot out, grabbing Jruviin’s arm.

  “No.” He stood, their gazes level now. “You cannot be alone with him.”

  Jruviin’s feathers relaxed, having flexed at the command before he understood what the Melier was getting at. His hairless brows pulled tight and Jruviin recognized the expression: worry.

  “I must,” he shot back when Val’Koy let go of his arm. His wounded shoulder smarted with a dull ache. It needed patching, and so did the Melier’s leg. “We need a comm and bandages. You still bleed.”

  Val’Koy looked down, glancing at the graze in his thigh. “It is nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  Val’Koy scowled. “If Piktiin harms you, I—”

  “He would not.” A barrage of feeling coursed through him that his partner worried over him. He realized in that moment that Val’Koy had become a vital part of his life in the same way Dania had.

  A mate.

  Long seconds ticked by and Jruviin finally cleared his throat. “I will be back. And stop bleeding on my fucking sheets.”

  “Shut up,” Val’Koy grumbled, and deliberately sat on the bed, doing the exact opposite.

  He left, his path directed toward Piktiin’s office. His mind swam with how different he was compared to the last time he’d walked these halls. Ghosts of his previous self at various ages darted around him.

  He’d carried terror around like a clawed animal gnawing on his back, following wherever he was while on this ship. All the while wanting approval from his father and the crew, yet unable to attain it. But now...

  Now it was just another craft with metal panels, wires, and various mechanical guts. It harbored a past that felt so foreign to him in this moment.

  He reached his destination and, without knocking, he let himself in. “How did you arrive so quickly?” he blurted, not bothering with formalities.

  His gaze darted around the dark office, noticing everything was the same as he remembered. Piktiin’s metal desk glinted in the off-white light. Every single item was perfectly in place.

  A glass case took up the expanse of the wall to his left, displaying a selection of Piktiin’s antique weapons collection, some of them dating back three hundred years. Young, compared to the most prized pieces in Piktiin’s collection on Dravidim.

  Jruviin’s quills twitched as he admired the weapons. It was one passion he and his father shared—much to his annoyance—the love of a well-made firearm.

  It wasn’t that he hated the family business, but it was a rough environment. At multiple points in his life, he expected to die in a shootout for a deal gone wrong. And then, there were the less tasteful sales. Sales to those who would abuse the weapons, forcing their own agenda onto others. If Piktiin would go legit—

  “I have been following you for some time,” Piktiin said. Like everything else, he seemed unchanged, even the way he lounged behind the desk was exactly like Jruviin’s memories.

  “How long?” Jruviin dragged his gaze away from the display case and stiffly sat down in a chair across from Piktiin. Just like old times.

  “We left Dravidim as soon as the stream died on your last battle. I knew nothing of your escape until my Greesh contact let it slip you had a hefty bounty on your head.” Piktiin’s eyes lit up and Jruviin schooled his unease because if he knew his father—and he did—Piktiin’s only use for money was status. He already possessed that.

  And he said he wasn’t here to collect. His father might be distasteful, but he wasn’t a liar when it came to Jruviin. He didn’t need to be. Not when the truth tormented Jruviin enough to satisfy his need to harass his disappointing offspring. Or so it felt, anyway.

  Jruviin clicked his talons on the armrest of his chair, knowing Piktiin hated it. The smallest of smirks tugged his mouth when his father’s feathered jaw clenched.

  “Why?” Jruviin finally asked. If not for money, why?

  “Why what?”

  “Last I checked, you fucking sold me to Hae’deth,” Jruviin ground out.

  Piktiin sighed and leaned back, fixing him with that indulgent look Jruviin knew as a petulant fledgling. The expression still fucking bunched his quills.

  “And look where you are now.” Piktiin gestured toward him. “A victor among the most savage beasts, even while protecting your female.” Jruviin’s spine quills stiffened, trapped by his clothing, when Piktiin referenced Dania. “Your bounty only adds to your accomplishments. You have earned honor and the respect of our people. My respect.”

  Leave it to Draekiins to think a bounty was a good thing.

  “Are you searching for gratitude?” A humorless laugh escaped Jruviin. “I neither need nor want your respect.”

  “You have it, nonetheless.”

  Infuriating.

  It pulled his quills that now—now of all times—Piktiin finally looked at him, spoke to him, like any other father might to his son. The hatred he’d seen burning from within Piktiin’s eyes throughout his life, was gone.

  Poof. Disappeared. Just like that.

  Maybe nothing had changed about this ship or this room, but everything had changed between him and Piktiin.

  It had only taken a year of trying to survive in the hell-pit of Tundrin for Piktiin to regard him as the son Jruviin had always tried to be.

  Bitterness swelled inside him, and he hated it. Hated that Piktiin could still get under his hide. At this point Jruviin would welcome his father’s hostility. He knew that Piktiin. He could handle that Piktiin.

  The individual that sat across from him with civility, treating him like a peer... it was fucking unnerving.

  “After your successful time with Hae’deth, it seemed senseless to let you believe you were abandoned.”

  “Abandoned? Did you miss the part where I said you sold me? Abandonment is a step up.”

  Piktiin swiveled his chair side to side a moment. “Would you like to come home? You have become a favored fighter among our people. You could have everything you ever wanted.”

  “No. Actually, let me clarify.” Jruviin held up a single talon and dryly amended, “Fuck no.”

  “That is your choice and I will respect it.”

  Jruviin narrowed his eyes
. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid to provoke Piktiin. What game was his father playing? “If you seek forgiveness, I have none for you.”

  Piktiin slowly inhaled and nodded once. “So be it.”

  Grabindo hells! He didn’t even throw anything at Jruviin’s head.

  The silence had his talons clicking the armrest once more, and he didn’t feel at ease until Piktiin’s jaw clenched in annoyance again.

  “Are you going to tell me about your female?”

  This conversation had gone beyond the realm of bizarre and nose-dived straight into a nightmarish hallucination.

  Jruviin cocked his head. “How much spiced herb have you smoked? I kill a few fighters and suddenly you refrain from beating me and ripping out my crest feathers? Instead, you invite me home and ask about my mate?” His tone grew increasingly suspicious. “In what dimension do you think I would want to discuss my love life with you?”

  His father didn’t seem moved in any direction, good or bad, when he scratched his jaw and remarked, “So she is your female, not just the prize she was meant to be. You share her with your arena partner?”

  Jruviin had been right all along—Piktiin had been streaming his fights since the beginning. He wouldn’t have known Dania had been a prize otherwise. That his father watched the fights was the only normal takeaway from this entire conversation.

  When Jruviin remained silent, Piktiin’s pale lips twitched. “You have earned the right to do whatever you please, even if your predilection stoops to perversion.”

  That was something the Piktiin he knew would say, and it oddly settled his nerves a little more.

  “Clever move, snaring the interest of a Therran. Easier to secure contracts near the trade planets.”

  Jruviin’s top lip curled with disgust at the thought of using Dania to further his father’s greed. “My mates are none of your concern.”

  “And when you breed her?” Piktiin’s tone held humor and he even cracked a jagged smile. “Am I to play grandDrae to little bald fucks?”

  Jruviin shrugged. “You would never know them.”

  Piktiin’s smile waned, but amusement continued to flicker in his copper eyes. “You may change your mind.”