The Krinar Chronicles: Krinar Covenant (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Chris Roxboro

  After thousands of years of predictability, how interesting to be curious about a woman for once.

  Chapter Four

  “Daddy, you’re not changing my mind.” Medora pushed the speaker button on her cell and placed it on the glass table top beside her bed. She stretched languorously and ignored her father’s incessant lecturing. She noted the wads of tissues piled on her nightstand and gathered them up, shuffling to her en suite bathroom to toss them. A glance in the mirror presented the honest picture of how she was feeling this morning. Ratty white-blonde hair sticking out every which way, bloodshot eyes, red puffy lids, and smeared lips. She’d gone to bed without washing her face: a terrible no-no which would likely result in a zit tomorrow.

  Her father’s voice droned from the other room. “A woman of your station need not be the hands of the organization, but rather the face. Come on, Medora,” he pleaded for the millionth time. “Be the beautiful shining face of Humans with Heart.”

  “And stop mingling with the lower classes,” Medora mumbled.

  “What was that Medora?”

  “Nothing, Daddy!” Medora dipped her hands in warm running water and began washing her face. She couldn’t hear her father’s prattling. It was much better this way. With an occasional “Mmhm” she continued her morning toilette.

  Her hair took an extra long time, but after extensive product and patience, it was finally soft and radiant. Her bathroom looked like a torrential rainstorm had hit, but she ignored it and stepped over piles of clothes and shoes, picking her way to her dresser.

  Pulling out a matching pale pink lace bra and panty set, she got dressed as daddy made his final goodbyes. “Bye, Daddy dear,” she said in a lilting voice, having no idea what he said in the last ten minutes of the phone call.

  She wandered to the kitchen, pausing at the windows to see the sun’s light reflecting off miles and miles of steel and glass. Last night’s freezing rain had melted to a steady downpour, and now the sun had decided to grace Chicago with its pale February light. The city shone.

  “It is quite a stunning view,” a deep voice said from behind her.

  Medora’s hand trembled on the glass, but she inhaled slowly. Years of finishing school and tedious charity balls had ingrained the poise of a head of state. Never mind that Jerik the Krinar had somehow found her and broken into her apartment. He was, even now, staring at her practically bare ass. She pushed away from the glass and turned as if she was Miss Alaska in the final running.

  “What a lovely surprise, Mr. Jerik.”

  She liked seeing him taken aback. He was expecting hysterics?

  “Won’t you have a seat at the bar?” She walked to the kitchen, pretending his heated gaze meant nothing at all. “How do you take your coffee?” She put a K-cup in the machine and chuckled to herself. Keurig had no idea the legacy they would accidentally leave for the Krinar arrival. “A man of your stature,” she continued. “I’m going to guess a lot of cream and sugar.”

  He coughed, but she still didn’t turn to face him. Oh, he was getting his eye full of her rounded pale white buttocks and slender back. She wondered if the almighty Krinar could detect the slight curvature of the spine she’d had since birth.

  Taking a fortifying breath, she finally turned and handed him his mug.

  “Yes, cream and sugar,” he said. His eyes remained fixed on her face.

  This surprised her, as the demi bra created quite a spectacular view of her cleavage. “What brings you to my home?” She handed him the creamer and sugar bowl.

  He seemed to shake himself out of a stupor.

  “I had to see you again.”

  She rolled her eyes. Turning her back on him, she filled her own coffee cup. She fiddled with a terrible breakfast. She popped cinnamon bread into the toaster. Grabbed a string cheese out of the fridge and a can of Coca Cola.

  When she finally sat across from Jerik, she looked at his comical expression.

  “What?” She asked, sipping her hot black coffee.

  “That color of pink washes out your already pale skin,” he said. “And your breakfast is positively atrocious.”

  She shrugged. “How fortunate I didn’t fix it for you,” she quipped. Gestured to her bra. “Or wear these for you.”

  He turned his back on her now, much to her relief.

  She buttered her toast and proceeded to dip it into her coffee. How many charity dinners had she endured? A hundred? Two hundred? She could withstand a few more minutes of his insufferable company.

  “I wanted to invite you to dinner,” he finally said out into her living room, still not looking at her. “We weren’t properly introduced.”

  “Ah,” she answered. Savored a soggy bite of cinnamon and coffee bread before replying. “You’re wondering how a human woman escaped your wily seduction.”

  He faced her, a wolfish glint in his eyes. This time he let his eyes rove freely over her breasts, since the rest of her was behind the island. “Or maybe I just want to get to know you better.”

  She smirked. “Mmhm.” She watched emotions scroll across his face, fascinated at the play. Tore into her string cheese and popped the Coke open, taking a hearty swig. She relished the burn down her throat and the tickle in her nose.

  “I’ll pick you up at six,” he said and stood. He walked around the island until he was inches away from her but stood at the sink and rinsed his cup out.

  She could smell his cologne. It was a blend of clove and rosemary. Very unusual. Very alluring. She hurriedly took another swig of Coke. She felt a burp bubbling to the surface. Forced it to dissipate through her nose which stung like a bitch.

  “That won’t work, Mr. Jerik,” she said, eyes watering. She blinked several times. “I have a function.”

  “Tomorrow night, then,” he said into her ear. He stood right beside her but kept his hands to himself. More surprises. “Same time.”

  Medora quelled the urge to run away or sway toward him. “My apologies, Mr. Jerik.” She shrugged delicately. “I’m booked up every night of the year.”

  His nostrils flared as he looked down at her. His pupils enlarged, the black almost engulfing the mesmerizing amber color of his irises.

  Her heart rate sped up instantly and she prayed he wouldn’t touch her.

  Something snapped in his eyes, and he took a step back.

  “Is that so?”

  “Can’t you Krinar sense when someone is lying? Heart rate and all that?” She took a smaller sip of her Coke this time and a large bite out of her string cheese. “I’m an heiress. I have a very full schedule.”

  “I see.”

  She peeked at him from under her dark lashes. His posture was impeccable. His suit, a supremely well-cut Dolce and Gabbana. His shoes, supple leather Berlutis, unless she missed her guess. He could be on the cover of GQ. She squinted at him, getting a better look. Ah, he had been on the cover of GQ now that she thought about it. Last year.

  “You own those sex clubs,” she blurted. A flush, dammit, heated her shoulders and breasts. Why hadn’t she at least put on her apron? Because her apron had spaghetti sauce on it, and she’d stuffed it back in the drawer yesterday before catching a cab to the hospital. “You’re quite rich from it, I gather.”

  He finally smiled at her. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes for the fifth time since he’d broken into her apartment.

  “Yes, on both counts.”

  She pretended to relax. At least he didn’t remark on her blushing. “At least I know you’re not after my money, Mr. Krinar Millionaire,” she said and pointed her saggy string cheese at him. “That’s something.”

  He allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Then he turned and let himself out of her apartment. She sank to the floor, the emotions from the startling encounter overtaking her. Damn, the tears were coming back, for no good reason.

  Chapter Five

  Jerik whistled on his way down to the lobby of Medora’s building. When
was the last time he’d whistled? When he was seven? Something about her…

  He shook it off. Medora was the challenge he didn’t know he’d been looking for. Yes, money had crossed palms to get the info from the doorman, the cab company, and the other doorman. That was nothing. He would have to pull out all the stops to crack the code that was Medora.

  Once back home, he shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over the office chair. He pulled up his holographic console. Typed in Medora’s name.

  Ariella Medora Rothchild, only daughter of Douglas J. Rothchild, CEO and founder of HK Technologies. Ms. Rothchild runs the Humans with Heart Foundation. Heiress to the HK Technologies fortune, she is considered the nation’s most eligible bachelorette. As such, Ms. Rothchild eschews most social pairings. She spends most of her time at charity functions, high society gatherings and state dinners. The elusive Medora avoids media and refuses interviews at all levels.

  Jerik sat back in his chair. With so much money at her disposal, where was her security detail last night? How did he get into her apartment without alerting some system somewhere? Naturally his nanodevice could disable anything, but there hadn’t been a need. The door opened under his hand.

  He rubbed his hands over his smooth-shaven face. He’d shaved for her this morning. Chose the suit. The tie. The shoes. The socks, for Krina’s sake. All for her.

  He’d hoped to startle her, and she had been as cool as a Krinar Princess in the throne room. She hadn’t even flinched. What poise. What would she look like untethered? His throat dried up at the thought. He had just discovered the purpose of his life.

  To make Ariella Medora Rothchild come undone in his arms.

  He’d gone out of his way to insult her choice in underwear. He could have mentioned the deplorable state of her apartment as well, but there was something charming about the mess.

  Prior to being doused in gutter water, she had looked very put together. She put on a fine front in public. Why shouldn’t she be more carefree at home?

  As a powerful and somewhat well-known Krinar, he knew a bit about fame. The fans, the groupies, the press. It bored him. He could see how it must stifle Medora.

  There was the matter of her name. All the press he managed to find referred to her as Ariella or Ms. Rothchild. He couldn’t suppress the slight thrill he got, wondering if she’d chosen to bless him with her middle name, as opposed to her more popular names, on purpose? Or maybe just to throw him off her trail. He frowned.

  He tapped long manicured fingers on the teak desk beneath his floating console. What was she doing last night? And why had he smelled tears on her face this morning when he’d stood close enough to see the almost translucent white skin of her neck?

  Chapter Six

  Medora fingered through her notes, looking for that one girl. Ah, there she was. She spread her notebook out and read the notes.

  Callie Martin, diagnosis terminal. Baby sister Caterina, pet Maine Coon Paddy O’Pee. Wish list: to meet a Krinar.

  Medora sat back in her chair. She wiped the gritty exhausted feeling out of her eyes. She never slept well after a visit. Especially not after the visits when they passed away in her arms. She stared at the walls in her home office.

  She had chosen sage green. Dried grasses sprouted out of stone vases. Woven native art hung on the walls. Her desks remained clear of paperwork. Unlike the rest of her apartment, she kept her office tidy and organized. Humans with Heart was her brainchild. Daddy loved the idea, turned it into a fully operational non-profit, slapped her name under the title of Executive Director and then expected her to stand back and let “plebeians” do the hard work. As if. She was elbows deep in it with her compassionate compatriots, and she loved every minute.

  Mommy died from cancer when Medora was nine. She’d sat at her bedside holding her hand with her right one and clinging to her teddy with her left. Mommy told her stories when she was awake. And Medora told Mommy stories when she slept. Stories about angels who would fly in her room and heal her. The TV talked about the Krinar arrival, and for a short time, Medora thought her stories were going to come true. And then they didn’t.

  Medora glanced at Teddy sitting at a place of honor in her office. Next to a silver-framed portrait of her with her beautiful mother, the summer before the cancer hit. Long, flowing platinum hair, striking gray eyes, a tall lithe figure. Mommy had been a dancer from the Russian ballet. Daddy wooed her, Mommy’s phrase, and stolen her away.

  Humans with Heart made the wishes of cancer patients come true. And maybe because of some residual bitterness, the foundation refused monetary donations from the Krinar government. Medora knew they had the medical advances to save her mother when they arrived. They just never bothered to share any of it.

  No tears fell, however. That was all ancient history for Medora.

  However.

  Little Callie’s wish posed a conundrum for Medora.

  She’d tried to keep Humans with Heart separate from Krinar influences. But she went out of her way for each and every patient to grant their wish. She usually managed to be present, as well. Yes, it irritated her father, but she loved seeing the light in the people’s eyes. It brought back her mother’s spirit for a split second. It was the thrill that kept Medora coming back for more.

  Medora read over her handwritten notes. She had a tablet. And a cell. And a smart watch. And all the accoutrements a woman of her wealth could hope for, but she preferred putting pencil to paper. It connected her to the information. Callie had maybe a week. And she wanted to meet a real Krinar.

  Medora wanted to crack her pencil in half. But she wouldn’t. No, she would pull some strings, and she would call the only Krinar she knew. Hopefully Callie’s parents wouldn’t dig for any more information. Jerik’s job could present a moral dilemma otherwise.

  Chapter Seven

  Jerik ran a finger around the rim of his dress shirt. Medora told him to dress up. He chose his second-best suit but chose his comfortable Berlutis again. He stood in the hospital lobby, waiting for Medora. She said she would explain once she got there.

  It was an interesting phone call. There he’d been, musing how best to breach her walls, when his cell rang. He didn’t even say hello. “Where was your damned security detail the other night? And don’t you humans believe in alarm systems?” Silence on the other end. And then:

  “I’ve had a lovely day; thank you so much for asking. I’m calling on official Humans with Heart business.”

  Now here he was. The smells of pungent chemicals assaulted his nose. He detected bleach, medicines, ammonia and other stringent smells. A twinge of guilt pulled at his heart. Krinar had been quite stingy with their medical advancements. Although cleaning up the world’s diet and pollution had contributed a great deal to general health and well-being. That soothed his guilt somewhat.

  The scent of Easter lily filled his nose and he spun to see Medora glide through the sliding hospital doors. She wore a lavender swing coat, bright purple dress, nude hose and sunshine yellow catch-me heels. She was fresh-faced, clean-scrubbed, a glowing bright light of health and vitality, and Jerik forgot how to breathe.

  “You’re here,” she said breathlessly. “Wonderful. Callie’s parents and sister Caterina are in her room already.” She glanced at her silver wristwatch, a rather archaic piece of jewelry. “We have a couple minutes.” She put her small hand on his dark suit sleeve. “Are you ready to hear this?”

  Jerik’s jaw flexed as he looked down at Medora. She was like a blooming flower, a jonquil. “Yes.”

  “Humans with Heart is a non-profit organization that grants the wishes of cancer patients in the last weeks of their lives.” Her hand dropped, and he missed it immediately. “Other foundations work with healthier, um, less critical patients. Humans with Hearts is the family’s last resort.”

  Jerik nodded slowly.

  “Callie Martin has a very simple wish. She wanted to meet an actual Krinar.”

  Jerik enunciated. “What.”

&n
bsp; Medora nodded, a small smile arcing on her face. “I know. It’s very hard to take in. A child should be asking what they want for the birthday, not,” she rolled a hand. “What they want for their last meal or what have you.” She grasped his sleeve. “They don’t need to know what your profession is,” she said. “In fact, it would probably be best if they didn’t.” He watched her throat bob when she swallowed. “She only has a few more days. You’re the only Krinar I’ve met. If you want to back out, I’ll understand, but,” she looked up at him.

  Well fuck me.

  “Take me to her room,” he said. She visibly relaxed. He thought she whispered, “thank God”. “You’ll stay with me?”

  Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Why?”

  “I’ve never met a dying human.”

  She turned whiter, if it was possible. Nodded.

  He offered his arm, and she took it. They found the bank of elevators, and she chose the proper floor.

  He heard a steady beeping sound. He couldn’t help it; he walked to its rhythm. Medora knocked gently on the door frame and he heard a male voice call ‘Enter’.

  Jerik blanched at the scene before him. A mother and father, dressed in clean but casual clothing sat beside their daughter’s hospital bed. A charming little girl with golden curls, maybe five years old, sat beside Callie whose eyes were currently closed.

  The little girl yipped when she saw Jerik, but then grabbed her sister’s hand.

  “Callie!” She whisper-squeaked, never leaving Jerik’s gaze. Her bright blue eyes penetrated Jerik’s own amber ones.

  Bald Callie slowly blinked her eyes open. Tubes snaked out of her nose, taped to her pale skin with clear tape. Her eyes were a faded version of the little one’s blue ones. Her eyes found Jerik’s.