Callie smiled huge, and Jerik’s heart thudded powerfully in his rib cage. He doubted anyone else could hear her voice when she said, “You came.”
Medora squeezed his arm, snapping him out of his shock.
“My name is, uh, Jeron,” he said, choosing one of his middle names. “Ask me anything.”
Callie’s eyes grew round, and she commenced asking Jerik intelligent questions that made him think twice. All in the quietest voice.
“How did your spaceships accomplish interstellar travel? Was it fusion or fission? Or some other kind of fuel?”
“How did you manage the space/time quandary? Do you have family members on Krinar you’ll never see again?”
“Why Earth?”
“How did you learn your sun was going to die?”
“What about feeding your people during interplanetary travel?”
“What’s the closest you’ve been to a star?”
Jerik answered the best that he could for over two hours, and when a nurse came in to check vitals, Callie’s parents pulled him aside.
“We can’t thank you enough.” Her mother hugged him, and he gracelessly put his arms around her shoulders, looking helplessly to Medora for counsel. Medora shrugged.
“You didn’t have to answer all those questions,” the father said.
“Oh, but I did,” Jerik said. “Your daughter is very intelligent.”
The father’s eyes filled with tears. “She is.”
Jerik turned to look at Callie, but her eyes were closed. The little sister stared at Callie with an intensity that startled him.
He approached the hospital bed. “What are you doing, Caterina?”
Caterina didn’t look at him. “I’m watching Callie breathe.”
Jerik swallowed again. Paused. “I’ll watch with you.”
Caterina held her tiny hand out to him, and he grasped it gently with his long fingers. She whispered. “She’s getting slower and slower. I do believe the angels are coming to get her now.”
Callie’s parents padded to their daughter’s bedside.
“I can leave,” Jerik whispered, beseeching the parents.
“Stay,” the father said. “For Callie.”
The mother glanced at Medora behind him. “You too. Stand beside Mr. Jeron.” Then she mouthed, “Thank you.”
He felt Medora squeeze his arm.
Together, they all watched Callie breathe. Her breaths slowed to a stop. Machines beeped. Two nurses came in and discreetly unplugged things and removed tapes.
Caterina squeezed Jerik’s hand so tight it was cutting off circulation. That was saying something, considering his physiology. He saw a tear slip down her cheek.
He didn’t know what to do, so he squeezed her hand back. She finally dropped his hand and fell on her big sister to sob.
He looked up at the parents. They wore expressions of shock, relief, pain and grief so sharp he could actually smell it. He felt Medora pull on his arm. He saluted the parents with fingers at his temple.
They left the hospital room and walked down the hall and rode the elevator. They walked out into the freezing cold. The weather in Chicago was bipolar this month.
“I really can’t thank you enough,” Medora started. He looked down at her. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Humans with Heart has a fund for reimbursing those who take time out of their work schedules to visit. Especially in the case of celebrities or other famous people. I can cut you a check or if you prefer to receive—”
Jerik’s mouth pounced on Medora’s pink lips with ferocity. He had just experienced the second most painful experience of his several thousand-year life. He didn’t want to hear Medora. He wanted to breathe her life into his lungs. Everything else was details.
He inhaled her, letting his mouth’s wetness paint her lips and tongue. She surprised him with her responsiveness, and his cock jumped in his suit pants. Later, he told it. This kiss was more important. It was life. It was death. It was past, present and future. He growled his pleasure when her tongue danced with his own. He pulled away with reluctance.
“Don’t say another fucking word about money.”
He squeezed her shoulders for a fraction of a second, then turned and left her standing on the sidewalk. He could have walked the short distance to his building. He realized now why she’d been standing on that curb that night. She must have left the hospital after one such visit. It explained her detachment. No, he couldn’t go to his opulent apartment right now. He decided to walk into the winter wind for an hour or two and see if it couldn’t scour the pain he felt from his heart.
Jerik walked for hours.
He let the smells of the city flood his nostrils. Before he knew it, he found himself at the backdoor of one of his clubs. He let himself in, feeling the thumping music in his chest.
His X-Clubs were open at all hours. They serviced eager humans from all walks of life, and therefore, from all shifts. His people recognized him and nodded. His visits were commonplace.
A waitress in a scant amount of fabric brought a tray with a flute of champagne for him. He smiled and thanked her. Drank it without tasting it. The taste of grief was fresh on his tongue.
He walked among the throbbing twining limbs of the dancers, letting errant hands touch him and grab him. Bold hands, questing hands, searching hands. They pulled at his clothing and limbs.
Anger fueled his heartbeat. None of these hands were her hands. He resisted the urge to swat them away with violence. Instead, he left the dance floor and took the iron spiral staircase to the upper floor. Ines kept a room for him here.
He entered the soundproof room and shut the door. A preset program began running in the background. Soft music, dim lighting that strategically lit up the chaise. In ten minutes, a waiter would bring a tray of his favorite appetizers. He leaned against a wall painted the color of a deep violet.
He was in a state of disbelief. He hadn’t gone two days without an orgasm in centuries.
Medora.
She had done something to him.
And today’s stunt. He could have said no. Could have left her there in the lobby this morning. What would she have done?
He laughed alone. Ariella Medora Rothchild would have found another Krinar and dragged his sorry ass to the fifth floor.
Self-loathing crawled up his spine.
When the waiter brought the tray, he thanked him and took the tray. He whispered something in the man’s ear. Five minutes later a gentle tap came on the door.
A tall human woman with long black hair stood there. She wore a plunging red V-neck dress, and chunky black velvet heels. Her eyes were rimmed with black liner and a couple extra fringes of fake lashes. She wore maroon matte lipstick on plump lips that begged to be kissed and sucked.
Jerik opened the door further to let her in. He fingered a long black tress.
“What’s your name?”
“Katerina Pamchenko.”
Jerik fisted his left hand. Gestured to the tray on a high table. “Please enjoy the refreshments. My staff is at your disposal, Caterina.”
He turned to go, and Katerina whined. “Where are you going? This wasn’t part of the deal!” She had the audacity to stamp her heel. “I want my ecstasy! Selfish Krinar bastard!”
He quietly shut the door on her tantrum and broke a hasty retreat. He knew very well the ecstasy she referred to was not the chemical-induced one by the drug of the same name. She wanted Krinar sex. Preferably while being bitten in the neck.
Even the memory of his last sexual high couldn’t stir his cock to action.
He stormed out of his club, barely escaping before he planted a fist into the nearest grasping greedy grubbing human.
The feelings swirling in his chest punched through his icy veneer. Grief. Longing. And the strangest one of all? Hope.
He burned them down, one by one. He was Krinar. He had no need for such things. They weakened him.
This nonsense he had with Medora needed to stop. He would f
uck her and be done with it. Work her out of his system. She was no fool, however. He knew he would never get away with his usual persuasive tactics.
The way to her beautiful little pussy was through her heart. Her Human Heart. He cracked a half smile. He’d already performed once. Sure, it threw him for an emotional loop, but he would be more prepared this time. He’d put up his icy walls again. A few more times, and Medora would be like putty in his skillful hands. Maybe he would indulge in blood sex with her.
At long last, his cock came alive. He had a plan that would end with Medora Rothchild in his bed by the end of the week.
Chapter Eight
Medora’s fingers touched her lips that burned. She thought she could see steam rising from that kiss, but it was bitter cold out here. In front of the hospital. Where Jerik kissed her. After being the most handsome and gracious gentleman she could have ever hoped for. He was terrifically poised for a very emotionally harrowing experience. If she was a fanciful sort of girl, she would imagine she had just fallen deeply in love with a Krinar.
She shivered and removed her hand from her mouth. She flagged a taxi and travelled to her building.
Once in her office, she filled out paperwork and perused the notes from other clients. She didn’t think anyone else wanted to meet a Krinar, but he had been so wonderfully perfect—no, she would ask him beforehand if it came up again. It was an experience most people would never want to repeat.
Hours later she stretched in her office chair. Her stomach demanded food, actual food, which meant she would have to go out. She knew her fridge was stocked with string cheese and Coke and leftover spaghetti. She had some cans of soup in the cupboard, but she wanted something more substantial.
She shut off her computer and filed away her paper notes.
She changed into jeans and a bright orange clingy sweater. She chose a tangerine lip color to match and red rain boots.
She walked to a little café one block away that had the yummiest sandwiches and fresh-baked cookies. Sitting at the little table, she watched the regular customers as she bit into her avocado, bean sprout and butter lettuce sandwich. It was liberally seasoned with a lemon pepper blend and drizzles of avocado oil. The bread was filling, fresh baked from several grain flours and allowed to rise yesterday. Indeed, the smell of baking bread was what had led her to this café a long time ago.
There was the old man who came in for black coffee. And the young mother with her toddler. The mother used hand signs with the toddler, whose pudgy fingers tried to mimic them back. It was precious, and one of the reasons Medora frequented the place. A college student with a wool scarf and dark-rimmed glasses sat with his special coffee and a bagel while staring intently at his device.
Medora could easily do the same and maybe increase her productivity, but she didn’t. She liked to people-watch.
Then Jerik strode in the door of the café and found her table.
“How are you tracking me?”
“I’m not,” he said with a small smile. “I have found a network of reliable humans.”
Medora sat back and rolled her eyes. Something about Jerik sent her into teenage paroxysms. “Fine. Why are you following me?”
“I thought I made my intentions quite clear.”
Medora took a large bite of her sandwich, not wanting to speak. She remembered the way he looked at her when she was in her bra and panty set. She stared at him while she chewed. He was sinfully handsome. Large, as all the Krinar men were. Dark hair, amber colored eyes. But he wore a smooth-shave like an underwear model. His clothes fit him so well she wondered if they were tailor-made, or if he simply had his nanobots paint them on his skin. His broad shoulders filled half the booth, but she recalled his body tapered into a slender waist and hips. He always wore Wall Street chic but had the body of a quarterback. Did the Krinar men work out? Or was it just…genetics?
She swallowed her bite. “I suppose you did.” She wiped her mouth with a thick white paper napkin. “Just as you insulted my underwear.” She didn’t bring up the fact he was the first and only man to see her in her drawers. It was irrelevant.
“Ah, there’s where you’re wrong,” he said with a large smile, as if he’d been waiting for days to wax poetic on this very topic. “I insulted the color.” He stared at her face. “Otherwise it was very fetching.”
“Fetching?” Medora repeated. “Who uses that word?”
Jerik had perfectly straight teeth, she noticed.
“What’s next on the docket?” He placed both palms on his side of the table.
Medora cocked her head. “Excuse me?”
“Whose wish is being granted next?” He sat forward. “I want to come.”
Medora dropped her cookie.
“Um, okay, yeah,” she stumbled along. “I’m sure that can be arranged. I’ll call you sometime.”
Chapter Nine
Medora stood in front of her full-length mirror. The Humans with Heart Charity Auction was tonight, also known as the Winter Ball. Daddy had convinced her to be one of the prizes. “A Date with the Face of Humans with Heart”. She rolled her eyes in the mirror. Okay, that wasn’t fetching. But it expressed her feelings for the whole affair so well.
She jutted a hip and put a manicured hand on her waist. She was petite, so the traditional long evening gowns tended to swallow her up. She went with a deep navy-blue gown in heavy crepe. It was shot through with silver strands and only came to her knees in the front, but then gradually lengthened around the back. She wore silver heels studded with crystals. She had great legs, and this dress seemed to present them to maximum advantage.
The gown had a square neckline and long sleeves. She wore a silver chain with a single shining crystal that dangled just at the hollow of her throat. Her white-blonde hair was up in a French twist, and she tucked a midnight blue rose into the hollow of the twist. Her dark brows and dark eyes featured prominently in her heart-shaped face, and she chose navy matte lipstick. It was a little outré, but Daddy was right. She could single-handedly bring in thousands of dollars for the charity. Assuming someone bid for her, of course.
Medora saw Rosela grumbling behind her in the reflection, picking up clothing and shoes off her floor.
“Thank you, Rosie!” She said. Rosela waved a hand at her but didn’t reply. Medora refused to feel bad for the mess. Rosela was paid handsomely to clean up after her once a week. Plus, she’d tried to tell her she didn’t need a maid, but Rosela insisted. She’d kind of raised Medora after Mommy died.
Medora turned around to look at her back in the mirror. A small flounce at her butt made the back of the skirt poof out. It gave her a very curvaceous line. It would do.
“I’m off to the party, Rosie. Help yourself to the Coke!”
“I don’t drink that garbage and you shouldn’t either,” Rosie said to her back. “You’ll lose all your teeth.”
“Thank you, Rosie,” Medora said with a laugh. “I love you too.”
At the lobby, the doorman ushered her to the car sent by Daddy’s driving service. It was a black Mercedes Benz E-Class with tinted windows. Medora squeezed in and breathed a sigh of relief once the door was closed. The press had been off her back for a few months now.
Apparently dying children didn’t make for great news stories. She could have told them that, dumbasses.
With her white velvet stole and silver clutch, she sat knees together in the car. Daddy let her know he had his eyes on several business associates who might bid on her at the auction. And then he proceeded with lecture number twenty-five: Why Ariella Should Snag a Wealthy Husband Soon. She tuned him out and filed her nails during that phone call.
The driver opened her door at the venue.
This was the Winter Ball, held at The Underground Chicago. The foundation had quarterly balls and fundraisers, as well as countless other meetings and gatherings: all to keep Humans with Heart running smoothly.
As she waved to acquaintances across the spacious lobby, she considered the dizz
ying schedule. It wasn’t that she was against marriage. A waiter offered her a selection of sparkling drinks on his tray. She took the chilled bottled water. She just didn’t have time to do the whole courtship thing. And she doubted she would ever find a man who wasn’t after her money.
Oh, she’d met plenty of entrepreneurs, millionaires and billionaires. They would argue they weren’t after her money, but it was always the little things. She unscrewed her water bottle and took a sip. The men her father forced her to date talked incessantly about their companies or their assets. They pretended interest in her humanitarian work, but in the end, if they knew Daddy, then they knew her bottom line. And they were never the ones to break off the relationship. Even when it was obvious they weren’t a good fit. So, she stopped trying altogether. Another reason the press had been leaving her alone, she thought. A boring woman with no social life outside of charity events and spending her free time with very sick children, did not a social media maven make.
Medora was all too happy to stay out of the limelight. Of course, tonight’s event would put her back in for a couple days, but it was a small price to pay.
Daddy and two associates walked up to her. He kissed her hand. “Darling, you are a vision tonight.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said with false charm. She winked at the men with him. “You have to say that, though. I’m interested to hear what your companions have to say about my pretty dress?”
As she predicted, they tripped over themselves to compliment her, and her father chuckled at her games. He knew she liked to play with the men who came to the events. Their words were the coins in her foundation’s coffers. With a wink to her father, she let the two men take each of her elbows and they walked into the larger room with the chandeliers and unusual entertainments. A contortionist performed elegant moves in one corner, and another part of the ballroom hosted a mock-casino.
“Do you two play the Roulette wheel?” She asked.
“Of course,” the one on her right answered. “You’ll be my Lady Luck.”
If she had a fan and a free arm, she’d hit him with it. Instead she let her laugh tinkle like raindrops. She dipped her shoulder at the other man who grinned, lapping her coquette up. God, she hated these parties.
The Krinar Chronicles_Krinar Covenant Page 3
