Lorran Read online

  “Who called?” Sonia asked.

  For a moment, Wyn considered lying, which would be a shitty thing to do considering Sonia would eventually find out.

  Wyn took a deep breath, ready to rip off the proverbial bandage. “I finally got myself tested. I’ve been stressing about it for months and I just had to know, so I thought I’d get it over with and know, you know? I just got the call that I’ve been matched. His name is Lorran Rhew, and I forgot to ask what planet he’s from or where I’m going, and I have to be ready to go by my birthday. They gave me some bonus money, and I want to give you half for the rent, so you won’t have to work for at least a year and just focus on your painting.” She sucked in a huge breath, holding it while she waited for her friend’s response.

  Sonia nodded slowly. “Okay…that’s a lot to unpack. You volunteered for the test?”

  Wyn let out a sigh. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to do it for ages now.”

  “Sunday flowers?”

  “Sunday flowers,” she agreed.

  Sonia tossed herself down on the bed next to Wyn. She stretched out, arms behind her head, and stared at the ceiling. Then she giggled. An uncontrollable giggle. The more she struggled to not laugh, the harder it became to stop laughing.

  “It’s not funny,” Wyn said.

  “You’ve been…buying flowers…for months…” She wiped tears from her eyes. “I thought you just liked fresh flowers, but you’ve been too chicken to do the test. That’s classic Wyn.”

  “Yeah, well—” Wyn struggled for the correct words. “I know it’s not a big deal to you, but I’m freaking out.”

  “There are loopholes. We’ll get you out of it.”

  “I’m not sure I want to get out of it.” There. Her big secret—the tween crush that never went away—out in the light.

  Sonia sat up. “You want to go?”

  “Maybe? Fine, yes. I want to go. And they’re giving me a stupid amount of money.”

  “Blood money, Wyn. They’re buying you.”

  “It’s compensation for lost economic performance, that’s what the brochure said, and there’s enough money for you not to work for at least a year and just paint. You can tell the call center to suck it.”

  Sonia’s brow wrinkled. “I do enjoy telling people to suck it,” she said, sounding unconvinced.

  “Enough money to help pay for my parents’ meds. Since I volunteered, I have extra time to get ready. And I prefer to think of it as alien booty money.”

  “Everyone wins, huh? Wow, that is some internalized oppression. You totally bought what they were selling.” Her words were cynical, but Sonia almost smiled at the mention of alien booty money.

  “It’s the best outcome. I’m making lemonade here,” Wyn said.

  Sonia pushed her hair off her brow and made a frustrated noise. “This isn’t a make-lemonade-out-of-lemons situation. You’re the lemon. The patriarchy is making lemonade out of you.”

  Wyn sprung up from the bed. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I’ve been trying to work up my courage for months, months, and all I kept thinking about was the little lecture you’d give me if you found out.”

  “You didn’t want to tell me?”

  “It sucks. Obviously. I’m being given—like a puppy—to a stranger, and I barely know his name. Fuck. I think the application to adopt a puppy asks more questions than the volunteer center asked me today. Okay, forget the puppy. That was a bad analogy, but the point is this is happening and it’s happening on my terms. You can respect that and help me, or you can keep your opinions to yourself.”

  Wyn paused, waiting to apologize for her harsh words but needing to be firm.

  “But I’d really like my friend to support me because it’s fucking terrifying,” she concluded.

  Sonia’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Wow.” Then a grin spread across her face. “You found your spine. About damn time, Winnie. I was beginning to suspect that Oscar took that with him when his sorry ass took off.”

  “I have a spine.” Wyn crossed her arms over her chest, all keyed up for an argument.

  “I’m trying to tell you that I’m glad you’re pushing back. Since he left, you’ve been down. Not as bright. Like your spark was gone.”

  “We were together for five years. That’s a hell of a long time. Of course, I felt depressed.” The fucker broke her heart. Okay, maybe not, but Oscar was comfortable, and she honestly could see them together forever.

  Then he got bored and the insult to her pride hurt worse than her heart because Wyn was anything but boring. Oscar tagging her in social media posts about his latest inspiration or gallery showing didn’t help. Leaving prompted a burst of creativity for him, and Wyn hadn’t picked up a brush in nearly two years. She made cute little figurines to sell because chasing her muse didn’t pay the bills.

  “It’s called grief, and it’s normal,” Wyn said.

  “And grieving Wyn got pushed around by people. You just existed. I can’t even remember the last time you worked on a painting,” Sonia said.

  “I got pushed around by you,” she retorted, because focusing on that was easier than poking at her lack of creative mojo.

  “And I’m a dick. I know. I go on my tangents—”

  “Rants.”

  “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you doing the things you want to do, the way you want to do them. I’m so damn proud!” Sonia positively radiated happiness, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “So, what do we need to do? Oh my God, have you told your mom?”

  “I literally just found out, so no.”

  “You have to call Alana right now.” Wyn rolled her eyes, but Sonia said, “Don’t. Your momma is scary when she’s upset, and this will upset her.”

  She had a point. The first Thanksgiving in college, Wyn brought Sonia home, since she had no place to go. Her parents welcomed Sonia without reservation and considered her to be another daughter. This covered all the good stuff like hugs and unconditional support, but also the bad stuff like judging life choices and speaking their minds.

  “Fine, but let’s do dinner first. Mom will not let this go with a quick, ‘Hey, guess what? I married an alien and I’m moving. See ya.’ It’ll take hours.”

  And Alana would insist on helping Wyn with the arrangements. She wished the arrangements didn’t sound so much like planning a funeral, but she had no idea what they would entail. Packing, certainly. Selling unneeded stuff like her vehicle. Transferring the utilities to Sonia’s name. Banking was supposed to work off-planet, but she needed to double-check.

  Okay, there was a fair amount to be done.

  “Let’s splurge my alien booty money on pizza,” Wyn said.

  “We are not calling it that.”

  “Booty. Money.” Wyn reached for her comm and pulled up the food delivery app. “The usual? BBQ Chicken with red onions for me. Sausage and mushroom for you. Done. Are we done talking?”

  Sonia frowned. “You weren’t going to tell me.”

  Wyn shrugged. “Eventually.”

  “That’s really shitty.”

  “I know. I was working myself up to it.” Never mind that it took her months to work up the nerve to volunteer for testing. “I was definitely going to tell you before the military showed up on my birthday and hauled my butt off-planet.”

  “Yeah, probably five minutes before the knock on the door,” Sonia muttered. “Fuck, I’m going to miss you.”

  “Hard same. You’re my best friend. I can’t imagine not talking to you every day or arguing about who used the last of the coffee creamer.”

  “I can’t believe you’re smiling. How can you be happy? You don’t know this alien or what he’s like, just that he’s willing to pump you full of alien babies.” Sonia sounded incredulous.

  Wyn touched her face and discovered that she was, indeed, smiling. “It’s just…look, I’m glad the will-it-happen-or-won’t-it is over. And it’s scary, and this Lorran Rhew is a stranger—”

  “Who might be a gi
ant dick bag.”

  “Who might be amazing,” Wyn said in a gracious tone, “or a giant dick bag. I can’t control that. You know those year-long galaxy cruises? Travel the stars on a luxury star liner. See the best sights in the universe. Be pampered like a rich fuck and never have to do your own laundry? I feel like I’m about to go on that trip. It’ll be a year of inspiration and plenty of time to work on my art.” Her stomach fluttered from excitement and nerves. It was amazing and terrifying.

  “If you want to travel, those ships hire all the time. And the cabins are way too small for a studio. And it’s not a year, it’s for life.”

  “Drawing or watercolors, and I know that.” Wyn liked the messy spontaneity of watercolor, but she loved drawing with charcoal and how it got under her nails.

  “What if this alien is a giant dick bag? They’re bigger than us. Stronger. And you’ll be all alone.”

  “Then I’ll get a divorce. I’m not without my rights.” Wyn grabbed the much-scrawled upon pamphlet and waved it at Sonia. The counselor at the volunteer center made sure Wyn understood her options if her match turned out to be less than amazing. But Wyn refused to believe that her Lorran Rhew was anything short of perfect. He was her alien, and he would cherish her. That’s what they said about the Mahdfel. Okay, on the network they said a lot of nasty things about the aliens, but there were just as many people singing their praises. “The divorce rate is really low too.”

  “You know why that is, don’t you?” Sonia asked.

  “Because everyone is blissed out on alien wang and living happily ever after?”

  Sonia’s cheeks flushed, which might have been a blush or might have been frustration. Wyn had no way of telling. “Just don’t build him up in your imagination too much,” Sonia said.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll set my expectations low.” Lies. Her expectations were already sky-high. Orbiting the planet, even.

  Wyn picked up the discarded page of color swatches. She held the back of her hand to the paper and compared. “Oh my stars! Am I Mummy Brown? Maybe more of a walnut.”

  Sonia huffed and rolled her eyes. She spoke to the ceiling, “Lord help me, I’m going to miss your sunshine so damn much.”

  Lorran

  “Uncle Lorran! Look how high I can jump.” Gavran squatted down and hopped.

  “Very impressive. Show me again.”

  Lorran crouched to better admire the young warrior’s demonstration. The comm unit chimed with incoming messages. The communication array had sustained damage in a recent skirmish. Back online, messages from the past few days continued to arrive.

  Gavran hopped around the room, crashing into the chair by the dining table. He and the chairs landed in a heap on the floor. He blinked, as if uncertain of his injuries, and looked to his uncle.

  Lorran studied the comm unit’s screen as if he missed the collision. He scrolled through the unread messages, most from his mother.

  “Pretty good, huh?” Gavran sprang to his feet, resilient only the way a child could be.

  “I am impressed by your speed, but your control requires practice.”

  The child pulled a face, scrunching up his nose. It was a look Lorran had often seen on Gavran’s father’s face. Gavran looked remarkably like his Terran mother, beige skin, light brown hair, and brown eyes, but there was no mistaking the Mahdfel in his build. Gavran was nearly three, already tall and strong.

  No doubt Seeran would want his son to begin training as soon as possible. Today, Gavran jumped around their cabin and crashed into furniture. Soon he would be breaking bones if he did not have an outlet.

  It was a shame. Lorran wanted the child to enjoy what he could before being burdened with lectures on duty and responsibility.

  The youngest of three sons, Lorran felt as if his entire life had been a long lecture on his family’s expectations and how he disappointed them. He did not have as prestigious a position as his brother Mene. He did not have the responsibilities his brother Seeran did. He did not have a mate and a child, unlike both his brothers.

  The list varied from day to day, depending on his mother’s moods, but those were the core complaints.

  Lorran might not be the oldest or the son with the most honors, but no one loved his nephews more than him. He was the favorite uncle. Mene and Seeran were no competition.

  “Your mother asked me to feed you. What sustenance do you require?” Lorran righted the chair and entered the food preparation area.

  “Ice cream!”

  “Tempting, but I question the nutritional value.”

  His brother’s mate, Hazel, deposited Gavran at Lorran’s cabin an hour ago, begging for time to pack. They planned a family trip to Sangrin for the holiday. He did not understand the need to pack more than a single change of clothing but agreed when she promised cookies for his labors.

  “Uncle Mene would let me have ice cream.” Gavran hauled himself onto the chair, grinning wildly.

  “It is dishonorable to lie,” he said, because he was a responsible adult. After a pause, he then added, “And to lie so poorly is an insult. You need to strengthen your creativity,” because he was the fun uncle.

  Lorran opened the cooling unit and withdrew the containers he selected from the cafeteria the previous night. As a single male, he did not prepare his own food. On good nights, he had an invitation from his brother’s mate to dine with them. Other nights, he dined with his fellow warriors in the cafeteria.

  “Gross.” Gavran flicked a chunk of green vegetable off the plate.

  “Apologies. I have misunderstood. I thought you desired ice cream?”

  Gavran’s eyes went wide. “Yes! Ice cream.”

  “Eat your protein and vegetables, then you may have ice cream.”

  Gavran looked skeptically at the greenery on the plate. “With whipped cream and sprinkles?”

  Lorran leaned in, as if to disclose a secret. “Better. We will go to the training arena.”

  Gavran’s eyes went wide, and he shoved a piece of breaded protein in his mouth. “Can we shoot? I want to shoot.”

  “Negative. You are too small yet for such weapons. There are other activities suitable for a young warrior.” Despite Gavran’s moaning about everyone saying he was too little, Lorran was pleased that his nephew took an interest in weaponry. He could not wait until the day he could introduce Gavran to his favorite weapon, an antique plasma rifle.

  Yes, it was wrong to have a favorite weapon—all weapons were useful and had their place—but this plasma rifle belonged to his father’s father. Lorran felt a connection to the relic.

  Being a responsible adult was easy. He did not understand why his brother constantly complained that Lorran lacked focus.

  “I can carry it. I’m not little,” Gavran insisted. He dragged the equipment bag along the floor.

  Lorran resisted the urge to snatch the bag from the child, but the look of utter joy on Gavran’s face made him pause. A few more scuffs would not impair the functionality. Instead, he stooped to carry one end.

  The training arena was a series of specialized rooms. Some were nothing more than a sandy floor and benches for spectators. Others had equipment for building muscles, drones for sparring, and targets for shooting.

  Lorran particularly enjoyed spending his time in the training arena because of the facility’s solitary nature. He only competed with himself and his physical limits. No one compared him to his brothers. When he sparred with a drone or ran under simulated heavy gravity, his achievements and failures were his and his alone.

  He loved his brothers, but his entire life had been a competition for his parents’ attention. Whenever it fell on him, it was only to compare his accomplishments to those of his brothers, Seeran and Mene.

  Lorran dropped the equipment at the base of a rock-climbing wall. Gavran tilted his head back to get an eyeful. “It’s so tall.”

  The rock wall stretched far overhead, the handholds growing progressively smaller and farther apart. Some sections were smooth with no
means for grip at all. Other sections had simulated rockslides or trap doors which released drones that attacked like avian predators. Panels shifted and changed texture. Occasionally, handholds vanished into the rock face. The wall was never the same challenge twice.

  Lorran pointed to a cluster of boulders and a wall with a wide ledge designed for youths. “We will start there.”

  “That’s for babies,” Gavran said.

  “Then you will demonstrate your mastery and we will move on to the next level. A warrior does not skip steps in his training.”

  Gavran’s lower lip stuck out in a near pout, but he nodded. Lorran suited up the youth in protective gear.

  “Ugh, I can’t breathe,” he complained.

  “Your mother will be displeased if I return you damaged.”

  “I can’t move. I’ll fall and damage myself and then Mommy won’t let you have cookies.” Gavran stuck out his arms and flailed them about, demonstrating how his range of motion was impaired.

  “Your range of motion is acceptable. Now, tell me more about your mother making cookies.”

  Gavran’s eyes went wide. “It is a surprise.”

  “I will not tell.” Lorran adjusted the straps to the helmet, but no matter how he tugged, the helmet was too large for Gavran’s head.

  “I don’t need it. I promise. I’ll be careful.”

  Lorran doubted that the youth could keep such a promise, but he acquiesced. “We will be cautious. Now, allow me to demonstrate.”

  He stood at the foot of the wall. “Start easy. You will use your feet, thighs, and back, as well as your shoulders and arms. Be aware of where you put your feet and how you balance.”

  Lorran climbed onto the first ledge, hauling himself up with exaggerated care. He reached a flat platform and crouched down to peer over the edge. “Now you. Join me.”

  “I wanna do it.” Gavran bounced in place. “I’m gonna climb to the top!”

  Lorran doubted the youth could reach more than the summit of the beginner’s wall, but he felt compelled to indulge his nephew’s ego. “That would be most impressive. Come on up. Mind your horns,” he called down.