KRAL: A sci-fi alien romance (Mail-Order Brides of Crakair Book 4)

by Ava Ross

  “Mila?” Riella scratched on the panel again.

  “Coming.” She unlocked the door and swung it open.

  Chee-chee scampered up behind her and peered through the opening. He cheeped when he saw Riella.

  “Ah, you are there,” she said, her fangs flashing.

  “Yup. I am.” Mila pressed for a smile. A few minutes of sleep was not enough. She wanted to climb back under the covers with Chee-chee.

  “Feast it is time for,” Riella said.

  “Already?” Mila peered past the other woman. “I thought Kral would come back for me, and we’d go together.”

  “Meet there, he say.” Riella’s lips thinned. “Wildarn argument hot. Males.” She shook her head and bared her fangs at Mila again. “Understand, you do.”

  “I do.” Leave it to guys to fight about…whatever a wildarn was. Maybe something like a goat. Or a car, though there didn’t seem to be anything car-like in the Vikir village. Unless they parked them…in the bushes. “Let me put something else on before we leave.”

  “Yes,” Riella said, nudging her way inside. “Help, I do.” She lifted a cloth bag she’d slung over her arm. “Dress I bring. Dress I make.”

  “You brought me a dress you made yourself? That’s sweet of you.”

  “New niece!”

  In no time, Mila wore a soft leather dress similar to the one Sereel had worn earlier. As light and comfortable as cotton, the skirt flared a bit when Mila twirled around for Chee-chee, who sat on the bed chirping.

  “Beautiful,” Riella said. “Now, ready you are.”

  In the hall, Riella turned to Mila before she could lift Chee-chee to bring him along with her.

  “Meerdreg here stay?” She patted Chee’s head. “Others frighten.”

  “Maybe I should introduce him to everyone slowly?” She stroked the monkey who clung to her neck. “But it might be best to do it all at once. He won’t attack, and they’ll see he’s friendly.”

  Riella shook her head, and her dull gray naanans drifted forward across her shoulders. “Introduce Vikir slow.”

  “Oh, you mean bring him around to little groups so they can get used to him a few at a time.”

  As she dipped her head, Riella smiled. “Yes.”

  After nudging Chee-chee inside and shutting the door, Mila followed Riella across the bridge to the spoked platform where Riella lifted the tiny flute she wore on a chain around her neck. Mila would have to ask Kral for one and get him to teach her the tune.

  Vines took them to the ground, and boy, traveling like this was going to take some getting used to. Sheltered in Kral’s arms, the ride up had been an adventure. Descending with only a band of the plant around her wrist—and no knowledge yet of why the vines were willing to perform the task—had almost freaked her out. She was never happier than when her feet were planted solidly on the forest floor.

  “Way this,” Riella said with a smile, waving for Mila to follow. The older woman stepped onto a narrow path that meandered in the general direction of the mountains.

  “Where is the feast going to be held?” Mila asked, admiring the huge purple flowers blooming on bushes to her right. She’d ask Sereel to teach her about the local flora and fauna before she touched anything, but she was eager to learn what was edible and what might make a nice arrangement for the kitchen table. Assuming she had a kitchen table.

  “Feast in clearing.” Riella gestured upward. “Moons. Light. Wonder. Food good.”

  “Sounds like my idea of a fun evening. Will there be music?”

  “Vikir music. Sweet your ears for.”

  Mila hoped the translators caught up soon because these conversations were wonky.

  They meandered along the path for about ten minutes. Sweat trickled down Mila’s brow, and the cool, comfy leather dress started to rub in all the wrong places. So much for wanting to fit in. She’d be a gleaming mess by the time they reached the meadow.

  “How much farther?” she asked Riella.

  “Long far,” Riella called out, cheery. She held a branch back for Mila to pass and waved her arm toward a hill ahead of them. “There up.”

  Mila trudged ahead, grateful they were almost at the party.

  Weird how she didn’t hear any other Vikir. She should be hearing voices and music by now.

  When she reached the top of the hill, she found nothing but a grassy knoll and an endless expanse of forest stretching for as far as she could see. Beyond the woods, craggy mountains reached for the sky.

  “Are you sure we came the right way?” Mila asked, turning to Riella.

  Riella held a big knife.

  She lunged toward Mila.

  Twenty-Eight

  Kral

  By the time he’d finished settling the argument between the two clansmales, at least a denjar had passed.

  He hurried toward his home, eager to see his mate. Wake her and kiss her. Climb into bed with her before they had to get ready for the feast in her honor.

  But when he opened his front door and called out her name, only silence greeted him. That, and Chee-chee’s frantic cries.

  Do not panic.

  He had no reason to be frightened for Mila. This was his village, his clan, and his home. She was safe here.

  Or was she?

  When he found the bedroom empty, and the clothing she’d worn earlier lying on the floor, his worry turned into a blazing fire. He slammed through the house, seeking her, but finding nothing but a silence that ate at his bones.

  “Mila?” he shouted.

  Chee-chee shrieked in the hall, and he rushed out to find the meerdreg trying to pry the front door open.

  “Where is she?” he said, yanking the panel wide.

  The meerdreg hobbled through the opening and started across the bridge, only to stop and turn to Kral. “Cheep!”

  “Take me to Mila?” Kral shouted.

  “Cheep.”

  Grabbing the sword he’d left by the door, he slid it into the sheath. He assured himself he still had his knives, and then he took off after the meerdreg.

  He ran into Josik as he was crossing the bridge.

  Josik bared his fangs in welcome. “I was—”

  “Come with me?” Kral said, his eyes stinging and his lungs raging. Nearly frantic with fear, he would welcome a clear mind. “Mila…”

  With a frown, Josik’s gaze darted to Kral’s front door. “She—“

  “Is not there. She is gone.”

  “Gone? Where?”

  “I do not know, but Chee-chee does.” He nudged his chin toward the meerdreg pacing on the opposite platform.

  “We will find her,” Josik vowed. He spun and rushed toward the meerdreg.

  Josik called vines, and they were transported to the ground in two seclars.

  Kral and Josik followed the meerdreg into the forest. He ached to yell Mila’s name, but her disappearance sent chills up his spine. If someone had taken her, he didn’t want to alert them to his presence. His heart beat like the drums of Krikiere his people used for death marches, a heavy thud that made it difficult to breathe.

  Let her be alive. Please.

  His eyes stung again, and he swiped at them. Crakairians did not cry. Yet he couldn’t stop the wetness from trickling down his face.

  Had he found her only to lose her? Letting her go was not an option. He would not let fate steal his family all over again.

  The meerdreg tired, and Kral scooped it up. The creature wrapped his arms around Kral’s neck, and pointed a claw forward.

  Josik nodded grimly and tightened his grip on the short sword he’d pulled from the sheath on his back.

  The rage of Kral’s Vikir ancestors filled his soul, eager to whet his blade on whoever thought to harm his mate.

  Two sets of tracks trod on the path. One he recognized as the heel print of Mila’s Earthling shoe.

  The other? The subtle step of a fellow Vikir’s footwear. Someone from his clan had taken her into the woods, and as much as he’d like to think th
is was harmless, he knew in his gut whoever was with her did this with foul intent.

  It was a stretch for him to think it, but was this person also involved in everything that had happened since the moment Mila had been taken?

  The connection he’d sought may lie in his hands soon. The explosion of his ship. The space station. The pirates sent to kill him and Mila.

  And now this. If it was connected, how and why?

  When he approached a hill, he heard grunts and a cry of pain.

  Josik lifted his free hand and tipped his head, listening. A look of pure puzzlement filled his face, followed by an expression of horror.

  What did he see?

  Kral lowered Chee-chee to the ground and, with his sword in his hand, stormed up the hill with Josik right behind.

  “No,” Josik cried.

  Riella swiped a blade across Mila’s uplifted forearm while Mila slashed out with her knife.

  With a suck in of her belly, Riella danced to the side and darted her blade out again.

  “Mother, no!” Josik yelled, but Riella kept rushing toward Mila, her blade slicing through the air.

  “Yes,” Hantir yelled from opposite Josik and Kral. “Hurry.” He ran toward Josik with his sword raised. Would the older brother kill Josik?

  The two males came together with a crash of swords.

  Chee-chee leaped around Kral and scurried across the clearing. Before Kral could pull a knife and throw it at his aunt’s back, the meerdreg flung himself onto Riella.

  His claws sunk in deeply.

  Riella reared back, shrieking. The blade dropped from her hand as she spun, trying to dislodge the meerdreg.

  The creature held on, its toxin pouring from its claws into Riella.

  She stumbled and her legs gave out. With a shudder, she toppled to the ground.

  As Kral reached Mila and gathered her into his arms, the meerdreg scampered over and stopped in front of them, barely hindered by the splint on its leg. “Cheep!”

  Kral ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and bound Mila’s wound while the two males continued to fight.

  Josik had mock-battled with Kral many times, and it was clear he was the better swordfighter. In minars, he’d disarmed his brother and had him on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

  “It was not me,” Hantir said, shooting a dark look Riella’s way. “Mother’s idea was this.”

  “Why?” Kral asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “You have a mate,” Hantir said bitterly.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Kral yelled.

  Riella lay motionless, staring toward the sky, the meerdreg toxin keeping her from moving. In the wild, the meerdregs would then eat their prey without fear of the being fighting back.

  “A mate will bear young,” Hantir said. His gaze fell on Mila. “And I would no longer be your heir.”

  “Why should that matter?” Kral asked, his heart burning from the pain of his aunt’s betrayal. “I could live for many yaros. You might never inherit leadership of the clan.”

  “I was supposed to inherit yaros ago. Mother was waiting for another chance.”

  The fire.

  “She killed them,” Josik burst out. “Your parents, my beloved aunt and uncle! Murdered!” He flung out the hilt of his sword, hitting Hantir in the head and knocking him unconscious. Then he tightened his grip on the weapon and stomped toward his mother.

  “Don’t,” Kral said.

  “It is my right as her blood.”

  “I don’t think she intended to kill me, Josik,” Mila said, surprisingly calm. Kral was a wreck. His stupid eyes kept seeping. “For some reason, she seemed more interested in wounding me.” Her mouth formed a circle. “Oh. If I was wounded, I’d bleed and draw…” She stared toward the forest. “The creatures…”

  If she’d drawn them to her, Mila would have been ripped apart alive.

  “I wish to deal with this,” Josik said. He stopped in front of Kral and dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Please, leader. Let me give justice.”

  “I will,” Kral said, placing his hand on Josik’s shoulder. As a blood relative, it was Josik’s right to handle this. “Let us…”

  “Take Mila home,” Josik said, pain leaching into his voice. “I will…” He blinked fast. “I will…” A shudder rippled through his chest. “Thank you.”

  Mila laid her head on Kral’s shoulder, and he tipped his to connect them. He needed her comfort now more than ever.

  “Why did she wait so long to try to kill you?” Mila asked. “You said it has been ten years since the fire.”

  Josik stood. “I…” He sighed. “When you were fourteen yaros, and the wildarn stampeded, nearly trampling you, I suspected something was amiss, but I told myself I must be mistaken.”

  No. Kral could not believe this. “Krikitts chased them.”

  “So Hantir said.” Josik’s angry gaze fell on his brother. “But did they? And then…”

  Kral held up his hand. “I cannot bear to hear more.” He’d had more than his share of near misses during the past ten yaros but had attributed them to a busy, active life. What if some or all the “accidents” and unusual happenings had been caused by his aunt and cousin?

  “Hantir was on the space station,” Kral bit out. Mila must have seen his cousin from the back. Too bad Kral had not been the one to look out into the hall.

  “He left here shortly after you did,” Josik said. “He told me he was meeting with a friend, but I assume now he went after you.”

  “Do you think he programmed the space station to self-destruct?” Mila said.

  Kral shrugged, but inside, he knew. “Someone blew up my ship. And then the space station. Pirates attacked…”

  Josik’s lips thinned, and he sent a look of pure hatred Hantir’s way. “I deeply apologize.” He placed his fist against his chest. “But I will give you justice. Please. Leave me with them. I will…”

  Kral nodded and stood. He sheathed his sword and offered his hand to Mila to help her stand.

  “Come on, Chee,” Mila said, scooping up the meerdreg. She glanced at Riella. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the power this little guy possesses in his claws.”

  “I am grateful he is our friend,” Kral said.

  “Can we go home, now?” Mila said. “I…I think I’d like to lie down. Or lounge around in a hammock, if you have one.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and led her off the hill and into the forest, leaving Riella and Hantir to whatever fate Josik chose to deliver.

  It was the way of the Vikir. Be true to those around you or face the consequences of your bad judgment. He did not envy Josik, and his chest ached at what his cousin must do.

  The betrayal would haunt both Kral and Josik for the rest of their lives.

  But with each step, Kral’s mood lightened.

  It was over.

  One day soon, he’d have to process all that had happened, because locking the feelings up inside would do him no good.

  For the first time since before his parents died, he felt as if he had a solid future, one with his mate, Mila.

  “You said a…hamrock? I do not have a hamrock, my mate,” he said, wondering what a hamrock was. The “rock” part made it sound hard, but if Mila was interested, he would look into them. Could he order one from Earth?

  She glanced up at him and while shadows lurked in her eyes, the smile she gave him warmed his bones. They loosened, making walking easier.

  “Hammock. No rock. And I think we can make one,” she said. “We seem to have a lot of vines dangling around.”

  “I will help.”

  “Tell you what,” she said. Taking his hand, she squeezed his fingers as they started walking down the path again. “I’ll figure it out and, one day, we’ll lounge on a hammock together.”

  Stopping on the path, he cupped her beautiful face and gave her a kiss that promised a full future.

  His voice echoed hers. “Together.”

>   Twenty-Nine

  Ten Days Later - MILA

  Sereel rushed in through the front door of Mila and Kral’s home. “He is coming!” Giggling, she carefully shut the panel and leap-frogged toward where Mila waited in the doorway of the living room. “Hide!”

  Mila grinned and gave the other woman a quick hug and a whispered thank you as she passed and entered the living room. Sereel had volunteered to be their guard, watching for Kral, who had been waylaid by Josik and led on a wild goose chase to keep him out of the house while Mila got everything ready.

  Smoothing her dress—a supple, pale blue leather and made with Sereel’s help—Mila plastered a casual expression on her face. Behind her, she caught the muffled sounds of her friends hiding. She’d invited her friend, Lily, plus Lily’s sister, Sadie. Sadie had also invited a few of the other Earth women she’d met since arriving on Crakair.

  A baby cooed, the Crown Prince and an Earth woman’s daughter. Sadly, there were no babies in the Vikir village, though Mila suspected… Well, she didn’t know for sure yet. It wasn’t like she could pick up a test somewhere local and pee on the strip.

  But she suspected. She hadn’t told Kral yet, but planned to tonight. He’d be thrilled. She was thrilled. She couldn’t stop dreaming about what their baby would look like. The best of them both. His cocky manner and her spunk, or her excitement for life and his stoic demeanor. It didn’t matter.

  Footsteps approached beyond the door, and she backed inside the living room. She jumped onto the sofa and sprawled, kicking her feet up and placing her digital reader on her lap. Yup, that was her, reading a good alien romance, her favorite.

  The door opened and closed.

  “Are you sure this type of harvest will benefit the village?” Josik asked, overly loud. He was trying to cue her in, but he knew Sereel was watching. Nice of him to give her warning, however.

  The light pad of the two males’ footsteps approached the doorway.

  In keeping with an ancient Vikir custom, Josik had taken his brother and mother to the desert beyond the plains of Dunare and left them with enough provisions to survive one week. Banished, they were told their lives would be forfeit if they showed up in any Vikir village. Kral said they’d travel into the desert, looking for a rumored oasis. As long as Mila never saw them again, she didn’t want to know what became of them.