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.”

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.

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 fuck 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.