The Krinar Chronicles_Krinar Covenant Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by MOZAIKA LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original The Krinar Chronicles remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of MOZAIKA LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Krinar Covenant

  By Chris Roxboro

  Dedication

  To my husband, with love

  Chapter One

  Jerik looked over the pulsing and twisting bodies in the X-Club. Men and women, transgender, bisexual, gay and lesbian, the hottest of the hot, and waited for the stirring from his cock that signaled the right one. The one who would sate his desires, at least for a day. Or a night. Or an hour.

  The music thumped and the pungent aroma of sweat and sex filtered through the air, along with fruitier scents and musky perfumes. As a Krinar, Jerik’s sense of smell was unparalleled. He could smell the arousal of a woman from feet away.

  Except in a place like this, the air reeked of arousal from every direction.

  Flashing strobe lights, glowing DJ enhancements, LEDs in ropes around the ceiling, pinpricks of light in the ceiling mimicking the night sky—all led to an ambience of night, stars, and discovery.

  There was a lot of discovery going on, he couldn’t help but notice. Velvety alcoves with soft couches or chaise longues welcomed the nude bodies of heated lovers. Krinar and humans seemed to get along just fine, at least in the X-Clubs. Resistance uprisings, political maneuverings, those things faded into the distance within the confines of a sex club.

  It’s why Jerik was here. He needed a distraction. Preferably a woman, but he wasn’t picky. Human men had satisfied him before. When one was in the thousands of years old, life had a tendency to get boring. Jerik’s ennui stemmed from millennia of seeing the same relationships form and fade over and over again. The truth was, nothing really surprised him anymore.

  Sex was a high point, no doubt, especially when as a Krinar he could use his thirst for blood to enhance the experience for him and his partner. However, with its addictive nature, blood sex needed to be rationed out and savored. He would become a shell of himself if he allowed the addiction to take over his reason. Once or twice a century seemed to be the right amount of balance for him. Other Krinar mocked his self-control, but he merely shrugged it off. He knew his own mind and his own desires.

  He was thinking platinum blonde tonight. Or blond. He couldn’t quite decide if he was leaning toward female or male. Scouring the dance floor, he pinpointed a likely potential partner. She had voluminous white-blonde hair. When she threw her head back in the passion of the dance, he saw red-painted lips and gleaming white teeth.

  The familiar zing in his pants didn’t come. Frowning, Jerik turned away from the balcony overlooking the dance floor. He stalked around the catwalk, glancing into the private rooms. Normally he wouldn’t dare steal another Krinar’s entertainment, but he was growing desperate for company. Memories haunted his mind’s eye that a night’s sexual fling would erase.

  The music in the club grated in his ears. The laughing and gyrating dancers irritated his mood. The smells became a stench instead of enticing.

  For the first time in years, he had to flee from the promise of wanton sexuality.

  As he left the club, grasping human fingers with painted nails pulled at his shirt sleeves. A bold one with heavily painted eyeliner and lips grabbed his tie. “Come with me big boy! You won’t be sorry, I promise.” The human was going for a sultry look but only managed to pull off clingy and demanding.

  He dipped his head in apology and made his escape, feeling the chill night air of Chicago like a much-needed slap in the face.

  The X-Club’s exterior was non-descript. They tended to do better in human cities when they weren’t quite so obvious.

  He exited onto an alley where more smells penetrated his nose. A dumpster, a stray cat, a homeless man.

  Jerik’s leather shoes splashed in an iridescent-slicked puddle, and another icy wind blew his dark hair out of his stubbled face. Soon the puddles of muddy water would ice over tonight making foot travel treacherous, not to mention the roads. He thought of Costa Rica for a moment. Perhaps he should fly back. His Armani suit jacket didn’t keep out the wind, nor did his brushed cotton dress shirt.

  Cursing the weather of this Krina-forsaken city, he wondered again why he was living here. Then he recalled the woman he’d followed from Lendarka and sighed. That’s why. He strode through Chicago’s mean streets, oblivious to the neon lights and the cat-calls of questionable people of the night.

  He approached his building, already looking forward to the warmth of the lobby and the swift rise of the elevator to his penthouse suite. In his single-mindedness, he didn’t see the small form right under him until he’d run into her. The woman fell forward smashing both knees onto the wet pavement and a cab plowed through a deep puddle at the curb right next to her. A huge wave of black water sprayed up and over the girl who screeched in dismay.

  Jerik, owner of several X-clubs throughout North America, GQ poster child, thousands of years old, refined, dignified and nearly perfect in every way, felt embarrassed.

  He grasped her elbow and helped her rise, chastising himself for not seeing her. She wore a dove white wool winter coat, white scarf, white knit hat, gray leggings and dark gray winter boots. Well, he amended his thoughts. It all used to be white.

  “My sincerest apologies, Miss…?” He guided her, so she faced him.

  Under her white hat, gleaming platinum blonde hair spilled around her pale face and dark lashes, and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Medora,” she said without smiling. She wasn’t looking at him. No, she was staring down at her beautiful clothes, now swamped with oily water.

  Jerik’s expert eye could see there was no salvaging her outfit. Her knees, however, could be saved. Bloody patches bloomed on each one. That was going to hurt.

  “Medora, I’m Jerik. Please allow me to help you,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “This is all my fault.”

  “Okay,” she sniffled, but still didn’t look at him. She held her hand out for him to take, surprising him.

  He held her gray gloved hand in his own and led the way to his lobby, greeting the doorman with a nod. The doorman didn’t think twice
about him bringing a guest. It was a near nightly occurrence.

  Jerik pressed his code and gently urged Medora into the elevator. He wanted her to look at him, but she stared at the floor. How odd she would accept his offer of help. He had found human women to be most coy, especially the ones he met outside of his sex clubs. Coy wasn’t even the right word. Suspicious, reluctant.

  Medora had acquiesced, but otherwise shown no emotion.

  Jerik’s curiosity burned brighter than his ever-present lust. That was new.

  At the suite, the elevator doors slid open, and his rooms welcomed him with soft music, dim interior lights, and a fire shot to life in the gas fireplace. He preened, imagining Medora’s reaction to his modern chic open concept apartment with a high-end gourmet kitchen to the left and a subdued but inviting set of couches and throw pillows to the right. Straight ahead, wall to wall glass windows revealed Chicago’s impressive skyline, in front of which he had a large dining table. Lit up at night, he could almost imagine a galaxy of stars, and two faces. Pressing that thought deep into the recesses of his heart, he watched for Medora’s reaction.

  She stood demurely with her hands clasped in front of her, eyes cast down to his less impressive black marbled floor.

  “Please,” Jerik said in a soft voice. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll have a nano-device create suitable clothing for you.”

  “I’m dripping everywhere,” she said. “I don’t want to mess up your lovely things.”

  Jerik tried to place her accent. It wasn’t quite North American, nor was it European. “My name is Jerik, and please,” he said while gesturing to the nearby couch. “Sit. Don’t trouble yourself about the mess. What’s Krinar technology for but to make life easier?” He chuckled, hoping to draw out a little laugh or a smile or something. It didn’t.

  Taking matters into his own hands, he guided her over the lush white rug, heedless of the black and gray water stains tracking off her boots. “Sit.” He nudged her to sit, and she did, knees together, hands still clasped in her lap. She looked biddable, and he wondered just how old she was. Perhaps she was a human child separated from her parents. His brows furrowed. “How old are you, child?”

  Finally, she shot him a look, and her mouth curved up in a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not a child.”

  Taken aback, Jerik nodded. “Very well.”

  He walked to a closet in the hall near the master suite and pulled out a nano-device. He had it manufacture a simple set of clothes. He chose gray and white for obvious reasons. As much as he wanted to stare at the young woman, he denied himself.

  Curiosity was such a rare emotion for him, he reveled in it. Who was she? Where was she from? Why did she not speak freely? Why was she not impressed with his apartment…with him?

  How did she have almost black eyes and almost white hair? It was an unusual combination he found beguiling. Ah, there was that familiar stirring in his cock. He smiled inside, appreciating his desire like a long-lost friend. It had been nearly twenty-four hours, after all.

  Perhaps Medora would stay the night with a proper seduction. He hadn’t set out to do that when he invited her up, but she was here now, and his cock was willing.

  The clothes were finished, so he brought them to her. The blood soaking through her leggings brought him up short.

  “Ah, I forgot.” He murmured to himself and pulled a thin card from his pocket. “Do you mind if I heal your knees?”

  “Please don’t, Jerik.”

  Once again, she surprised him. “It will only take seconds,” he said and brought the card forward as he knelt on the floor beside her.

  “No thank you,” she said cocking her head. “I don’t wish to be tracked by your nanobots.”

  Jerik felt a flash of anger. Medora was mild, and then infuriatingly resolved.

  “I see.”

  He resisted the urge to storm off and slam things around. Instead he walked to his kitchen and pulled out a white washcloth, running it under warm water. He brought it to her; she gratefully accepted it and dabbed it on her knees.

  “Do you have bandages ready or do you need to manufacture some?”

  Her question irritated him, though her voice continued to be mild. Was she trying to provoke him? She avoided eye contact at every turn.

  “Uh, I have bandages,” he said. “Just a moment.”

  When was the last time he’d stammered around a woman? Three thousand years ago? Four? Medora had him twisted six ways from Sunday, as the Earth saying went. He pulled two large flexible adhesive bandages out of his kitchen drawer. His housekeeper kept some things around.

  “Here you are, Medora.” He hoped her fingers would brush against his, but she deftly avoided accidental touch.

  “Would you kindly remove yourself from the room, so I may change?”

  Jerik’s mouth dropped open. He snapped it shut, bobbed his head and stalked to his master suite. Closing the door soundly, he walked to the bank of windows and watched the twinkling lights of the city blink in yellow, red, green and blue shades. He slid his hands into his pockets and tried not to obsess about the woman in the next room who showed zero interest in him as a man or a Krinar.

  When fifteen minutes had passed, he resolved to invite her out for a late coffee. Perhaps being in his penthouse had her unsettled. He could court her the old-fashioned way. Feeling a lightness in his heart he almost didn’t recognize, he left his room and settled a pleasant mild interest on his face. The expression fled when he saw she was gone.

  Chapter Two

  Medora crumpled the bandage wrappers in her hand, bundled her soiled clothing in her coat, and quietly left the apartment, thankful that the door slid open without requesting a code or making any noise. She would need a head start to get away from the Krinar.

  She knew they didn’t abduct women, but in her circles, she was well aware of their proclivity for seduction. She had enough men in her life. She didn’t need a Krinar breathing down her neck. She sniffed on the way down to the first floor. Her neck. She knew all about Krinar and their sexual predilections. Blood-sucking to enhance their orgasms. She was certain it was all completely lovely, but she had her sights on more long-term goals.

  Upon reaching the lobby, she squeaked across the gleaming striated cream and rose marble floor in her wet boots. It was a beautiful building, much like her own. She whispered to the doorman, and he flagged down a cab for her.

  Once settled in the cab, she directed the driver just two blocks east, paid him at her stop, and happily avoided yet another greasy puddle at the curb. She smiled at her own doorman and plodded to the elevator. Her soggy shoes left marks on the black and gray marble floor with silvery specks. Custodial staff would have it mopped up in minutes. She pressed the button for her own penthouse, stepped into the mirrored elevator and inspected her makeup on the way up to the fiftieth floor.

  Not an eyelash out of place, nor a smudge of her ruby red lipstick. Her eyebrows were on point, dark in contrast to her platinum hair. She loved her hair. She felt her other features were more on the plain side, but she loved the connection her hair gave her to her mother. Although it tended to draw attention at social functions.

  She sighed and slumped against the highly reflective surface of the elevator walls until it reached her suite. Speaking of social outings, tonight’s outing had taken a lot out of her.

  She stripped on her way out the elevator into her spacious apartment. She dropped her wet things in a pile by the door and then removed her Krinar manufactured clothing next. She walked barefoot into the kitchen and stuffed the Krinar clothing into the trash compactor. She hadn’t heard that they put tracking devices into their clothing, but she wouldn’t put it past them. She would mark this bag of trash to go to the building’s incinerator. Why take the chance?

  She poured herself a glass of Coke, gripping the edge of the slate gray marble countertop with one hand.

  She walked into her bedroom, flipping lights as she went, found a silky pair of
underthings and satiny pajamas and ignored the chime of her cell ringing in the other room.

  Daddy could wait. She had a death to mourn.

  Chapter Three

  Jerik ran a nanobot program on the muddy and oily marks on his white shag carpet. Medora was a puzzle. While the women in his clubs fell all over themselves to get to him, he didn’t expect Medora to act that way.

  But at the very least, the human women he met in public couldn’t help but stare at his chiseled good looks. He was muscled, usually clean-shaven, and polished. He had impeccable speech, expensive tailored clothing, tasteful understated accessories. He cut the figure of wealth and status, without being ostentatious. The least she could have done was be a little cowed.

  Instead she had barely cast him a sideways glance and had fled his apartment as if it was a roach-infested hovel. Frowning in distaste, he looked around. His furnishings were a handsome blend of Krinar fashion and upscale human design. His kitchen had top-notch stainless-steel appliances. Greenery accented every corner and table top, lending a bit of warmth to the otherwise cold décor.

  He recalled her small form sitting at his couch, and considered it was the first time he’d invited a woman to sit, rather than take her immediately to his room.

  Dark brows furrowing, he clenched his fists. He needed to find Medora and bring her back. They needed a proper introduction, and she needed a proper seduction. He was just the Krinar for the job.

  He strode to his home office and pulled up the holographic console. He made as if to press the search sequence then realized he had no way to track her.

  He would have to employ some old-school tricks. He phoned the lobby and had the girl retrieve the doorman. A brief conversation and then he made himself a cup of human coffee, heavy with sugar and cream. It was his only decadence. Other than the frequent sex, of course.

  He paced his apartment from one side of the wall of windows to the other, looking down at the frantic traffic and bustling city. He wasn’t used to waiting. It grated on his nerves. However, he wasn’t burdened with unsated arousal. It was like his curiosity over Medora had outwitted his sexual desire. It was unusual, but not unwelcome.