The Alien Reindeer’s Bounty Read online

  A figure leaving the hardware store caught Odessa’s attention. Her mouth went dry and her heart lurched. In books, when the narrator said they knew so-and-so in an instant, despite having been separated for years, Odessa always thought that was bunk. People changed. They got bald or gained weight or otherwise transformed into something familiar but unrecognizable. Other than four years at college, Odessa lived her whole life in one town, and she had a hard time recognizing people from high school. Were they who she thought they were? She hadn’t seen them since they moved away, so she couldn’t be sure.

  But this man, she knew without question. Recognition rang in her like a bell.

  Mads Sommerfeldt was leaving the hardware store. He was older and had a noticeable limp as he walked. Leaner and more defined, his face lost the roundness of youth. His cheekbones had grown sharper, which only made his lips seem that much more luscious. That hair, though, was still a wild mop. She was sure that if she got close enough, she’d see laugh lines around his eyes, perhaps a stray gray hair at his temples.

  He had grown into his frame of a lean runner’s build with shoulders wide enough to share every burden. Wearing faded jeans and green Henley, he made the old work clothes look good. The cold must still not bother him as he had no jacket. A cranberry-colored scarf hung around his neck.

  Her Mads.

  How sad was it that she wanted to go over to him and adjust the scarf, tuck in the ends to make sure his neck didn’t catch a chill? Super sad.

  As if sensing her gaze, he paused outside the store doors and turned to stare directly at her. She felt fluttery and eighteen again, like she could walk right up to him and fall into an easy conversation, and she hated that feeling.

  She loved him.

  He kissed her.

  He left.

  That had been the entirety of their bitter story. She discovered he moved away when she came home for winter break. No email. No text. Just an empty house next door. The old hurt came back, making it easier to meet his gaze with a challenge. Her so-called best friend vanished twelve years ago and never once tried to contact her. Their friendship hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to her, if it meant anything at all.

  Fuck Mads Sommerfeldt.

  Mads

  He felt Odessa’s light before he saw her, a spark in the fading light of twilight. Time and distance had made the mating bond stronger, not weaker, and his body sang with the need to be close and fold her in his arms. He craved the easy contact of their youth, when they sat side by side and her fingers casually combed through his hair. She was his bonded mate now but she had always been his friend, and he missed his friend.

  She was older—they both were—but it suited her. Experience and confidence refined her, elevating her from pretty to stunning. Dark hair had been pulled back loosely. She wore a bright red wool coat but could not be bothered to button up. A red-haired child danced around her feet, begging for attention, but all her focus was on him and all his attention was centered on her scowl.

  Not the reaction he expected.

  “Mommy? Can we?” The red-headed calf tugged on her hand.

  “Sorry, what did you say?” Odessa asked.

  “Can we have hamburgers with Grandpa?”

  “We have veggie lasagna at home.”

  The calf made a face. “Please. I’ll pick up all the toys in my room before bedtime.”

  “Sure. Sounds good,” Odessa said, her gaze fixed on him.

  “Grandpa! She said yes!” The calf took off toward an older male, who Mads recognized as Gerald Muller.

  He approached, heart pounding in his chest. He had not planned on this encounter, but he would seize the opportunity, even if he did not know what to say. Much had changed on Earth—and yet so much remained the same—and he had yet to review the media Karl sent him. Being a primitive planet—so the sentiment on Reilen claimed—Earth was ignored in the media. No one cared what the inhabitants of the faraway planet got up to, what wars they waged, or what advances they made.

  “What do you want, Sommerfeldt?”

  He resisted the urge to wince at the assumed name. Soon he would teach her how to pronounce his true name.

  “Right to the point. I always liked that about you,” he said, an easy smile stretching across his face. He didn’t have to fake it or dig down to find the emotion. It was right there on the surface, free and easy, as it always was with Odessa. “Your daughter?”

  “Ruby,” she said.

  “Really?”

  Odessa rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know she was going to have all that hair. She arrived with dark hair but that fell out. When it grew back, it was red.”

  “Super red.”

  “So red,” she agreed with a smile and it was like the absence never happened. As quickly as it came, the smile vanished and the scowl returned. “You’re back.”

  “Have been for a couple of days,” he said. Karl had rented a domicile for him and he spent the first day in his four-legged form as he adjusted to the intensity of Earth.

  “Plan on sticking around?”

  “I never intend to leave.” His fingers flexed, wanting to reach for his mate and pull her close. “I never wanted to leave.”

  She jammed her hands into her coat pockets and watched him with cautious eyes, almost waiting. For what, he couldn’t say.

  “Mommy, we’re ready,” Ruby shouted across the lot. Gerald lifted a tree into the back of a truck.

  “That’s my cue,” Odessa said.

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

  “Pardon?”

  “To catch up. Dinner. Coffee. Anything.”

  She gave him a measured look, starting at his face, sweeping down and then back up again. Did she find him physically attractive? Her blown pupils confirmed that she did. Was there another male? Despite her not having the scent of another male on her, this idea stoked jealousy within his heart.

  “No,” she said, leaving him to join her family.

  Chapter 6

  Mads

  Mads stood outside the red brick warehouse that had seen better days. The last time Mads saw his uncle, he had been a practicing neurologist at the university hospital. Today, it appeared his uncle squatted in an abandoned building. The glow of electric lights illuminated the edges of the heavy paper covering the windows.

  At least Karl had power.

  Standing at the heavy iron door, Mads inspected the peeling paint and the padlock before knocking. No response, not that he expected one. When focused, Karl’s work absorbed him. The male seldom took breaks to rest or eat, let alone do something as trivial as answer the door for his nephew.

  Mads lifted the padlock and found it was not terrestrial in design. The bottom twisted to reveal a thumbprint scanner.

  Perhaps Karl wasn’t living in squalor after all.

  Pressing his thumb to the device, the door unlocked and swung open, revealing a cluttered but otherwise clean industrial interior.

  “You don’t happen to have a scan of your brain, do you?” Karl bent over a workbench, not looking up as he spoke, his antlers on full display.

  “Your antlers,” Mads said, averting his eyes. He had not worn his antlers in public since he was a calf and had little control over his shifting abilities. Displaying antlers was an activity reserved for the most intimate of relationships unless one had shifted into their four-legged form. He had never seen his father’s antlers and here his estranged uncle was, shamelessly parading in his prongs.

  “It’s just us bulls here,” Karl said. “Don’t you ever let your horns out? It’s very relaxing.”

  “No. Never.” Sometimes he partially shifted at the end of a long day to relieve the pressure of a headache, but never casually and never with another person present. The only person who had ever seen his antlers was Odessa, long ago.

  “Stress will ruin you. Try not being so uptight. Now, did you bring me your brain scans?”

  “You didn’t ask for any, so no.”

  “Shame.
I guess I’ll make do with your juvenile scans.” His uncle finally stood, stretching to his full height. The male only stood an inch shorter than Mads. Strange. Karl had always been a towering figure in his memories, the male who dominated their lives and brought them to Earth. Now Karl was simply an older bull, thinner in frame and graying, no longer a commanding presence. Oddly, this revelation pained him.

  “You have scans of my brain?” Mads couldn’t recall subjecting himself to Karl’s research. “When?”

  “When you slept, obviously. Now, let’s get a look at you.” Karl grabbed Mads firmly by the chin and turned his head from side to side. Up close, Mads could see the red in Karl’s tired eyes. “Any headaches?”

  “Some,” he admitted.

  “Insomnia? Loss of appetite? Silly question.” Karl jabbed Mads in the side with a bony finger.

  “Watch it,” Mads snapped.

  “Wow, that’s all muscle. I remember when you were nothing but skin and bones.” The old bull gave an appreciative pat. “Trouble focusing?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  Karl laughed, the rasping sound sending a chill down Mads’ spine. His uncle had changed during his years alone, and not for the better. Arne had always said his brother was obsessed to the point of being deranged but Mads paid little attention to his father’s drunken ramblings. Perhaps he should have listened.

  “Have you been in contact with your bonded?”

  Mads backed away from Karl’s poking and prodding. Years of conditioning, of specialized training and punishment, urged him to deny the bond. Reilendeer did not bond with humans. How often had he been told that what he felt was a symptom of mental instability or his imagination?

  Yet Karl’s simple question recognized Mads and Odessa’s bond. It eased a burden in his heart that he did not realize he carried until it had been lifted. His bond with Odessa was real and seen.

  “We spoke,” Mads said.

  “And did your symptoms ease or grow more severe?”

  “Eased at first and then returned.” His head throbbed all night and his entire body ached to where he shifted to his four-legged form. Curled up on the floor, he finally managed to sleep.

  “Excellent. How are your accommodations?” Karl spun away and grabbed a device off the nearest workbench. “Stand over there.”

  “The house is acceptable.” Mads moved to the spot his uncle indicated, marked with tape on the concrete floor. He did not have to ask if Karl knew the house was next door to Odessa. Little got by the old bull. He knew.

  “Do not move.” Karl hit a series of buttons on the device and three panels descended from the ceiling, surrounding Mads. The panels rattled and hummed, presumably as it scanned him.

  Mads waited patiently until the machine finished, all the while Karl rambled. “Do you know how many mate bonds have occurred in the last decade? None. Absolutely none. You were one of the last. I suppose the authorities,” he spat out the word, “told you that your bond was fiction and then wanted to slice open your brain. I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad. They told me my bond with Shelly was all in my head. Ha! Of course it is. That’s where our hormonal glands are. What allows us to form mate bonds is in our heads. Sadly, those glands have been underdeveloped for the last, let me think, five generations or so. A degenerative disease, but no one wants to admit we’re diseased. I suppose by now no one has functional hormonal glands necessary for bonding. No worries. I’ll find a way to reverse the damage. When I deliver a cure, they won’t be able to ignore me then, not with a cure.”

  The panels finally ascended, revealing his uncle pacing and running his hands through his already messy hair.

  “Will you need to scan my mate?” Mads wanted to help his uncle’s research but he felt an impulse to keep Odessa as far away from Karl as possible.

  “Hmm? Oh, no. That line of inquiry was a dead end. My research is so far beyond that now. But perhaps if I had a fresh subject—”

  “Have you eaten today?” Or showered? Or performed the most basic tasks of hygiene and self-care?

  “There’s no time. Now let’s see what’s happening inside that head of yours.” Karl activated the computer terminal and images projected above the workbench. The images—presumably Mads’ brain scan—flickered. The machines Karl used were no longer the cutting edge of reilendeer technology. When Karl refused to return to Reilen all those years ago, he chose exile from his people, his herd, with no funding or support. Mads wondered if the isolation made Karl unstable. Reilendeer were social creatures, craving companionship.

  “How is your father?” Karl asked, voice casual and almost disinterested. His act did not fool Mads.

  “Dead.” He lit his father’s funeral pyre last year. Part of him regretted that he could not make peace with his sire, but Arne had never tried to bridge the gap between them, either. He only saw their differences and blamed Mads for any perceived defect. Arne had been a distant authoritarian figure when Mads was young, but he had grown harsher over the years. Arne had been the one to drag Mads to the re-education center. Arne had been the one to authorize the testing and endless attempts to sever a bond they insisted never existed in the first place.

  Once Mads had reached his majority, he spoke to his father only on rare occasions. Mandatory military service kept him away—thankfully. Something had turned Arne’s spirit bitter. Mads had assumed it was an unwanted tour of duty on Earth, providing security as his scientist brother conducted research, but nothing had improved when they returned to Reilen.

  He had not been the one to stab a knife in the old bull’s gut—a drunken bar brawl took care of that—but he felt no anger toward the male who had.

  Karl nodded. “We have each other in our herd.” Then, almost under his breath, “Such that it is.”

  “How did you know that no mate bonds have occurred?” Mads asked, directing his thoughts away from the quality of the herd formed by a male with an impossible mate bond and an old bull who spent far too long alone. “You’re in exile.”

  “I still have a few like-minded contacts on Reilen. And we’re in exile.” Karl clasped him on the shoulder. “The Council may not believe the extinction of the mate bond is important, but we know better. When I was a calf, several generations lived together in a herd. Bonded mates, calves, those who never took a mate, extended family who needed a home. Anyone and everyone. It was very typical. We’re social beings. We crave contact and our social structure was organized around a large, multi-generational herd. Now? A bull and his calf or a doe and her child. They call that lonely pairing a herd.” Karl spat on the ground.

  “Why does it matter? A mate bond is not necessary for reproduction.” Calves happened often enough before the bonding decline, an era his uncle held in such fond nostalgia.

  “You don’t listen, do you? Because we’re social beings. Without a mating bond, we grow cruel and bitter.” Karl turned his attention back to his workbench and the flickering projected images of Mads’ brain scan. “I don’t know how you could live with your father and still ask that question.”

  Mads suspected his father’s troubles ran deeper than a lack of a bonded mate.

  “If that’s all, I’m rather busy,” Karl said.

  “I came for my documentation.” Twelve years ago, he had a birth certificate and dual passports. He could forge the necessary documentation for a new identity, but he wanted to slip back in Mads Sommerfeldt’s life, if possible.

  “Over there.” Karl waved to a cluttered table in a small kitchenette area.

  Mads sat at the table and worked through the small box resting on top. He found an envelope containing his original—forged—birth certificate proclaiming that he was born in Trondheim, Norway. The Norwegian passport was a fake of the highest caliber, but the US citizenship and passport were real. The envelope also contained a new passport with a recent image of Mads.

  “How much did this cost? I will repay you.” Mads had some savings and a small inheritance from his father, but reilendee
r money was useless on Earth. He emptied his accounts for gemstones and precious metals. Diamonds were frightfully common, but humans were willing to pay far too much for a pretty rock. With careful planning, he would have enough funds for several years. He could not imagine that Karl had any savings or resources left unless the same friends who fed him information also fed him supplies.

  “Do not worry. I sold a piece of tech,” Karl said with a dismissive wave.

  “Tell me you were not so irresponsible,” Mads said with an irritated growl. He could not believe Karl would be so thoughtless. True, they were both in exile from Reilen, but their safety depended on remaining undetected by human governments. Mads did not want to spend the rest of his life in a government facility being poked and prodded. He had enough of that already.

  “Relax. It was the thumbprint reader tech. They were only a few years from developing it themselves.”

  “You sold a piece of reilendeer tech.” No matter how small or inconsequential, a piece of alien tech in human hands could be bad for them. If he were smart, he’d leave behind the foolish notion of being Mads Sommerfeldt again and pay for a brand-new identity.

  “I sold the schematics. No one will trace it back.”

  Mads did not believe that at all.

  “Now if you don’t mind, you’re very distracting. My work is important,” Karl said, returning his attention back to the series of brain scans hovering over the workbench.

  Mads made the return two-hour drive back to town, all the while turning over Karl’s words. Well, some of his words. Mads skipped the ranting bits and focused on what he said about being a social creature. Clearly, isolation had not done Karl any favors. He should move closer to his uncle if only to help the old bull hold on to his remaining sanity, and to help himself avoid the same fate.

  He made contact with his mate, which was the first step to winning her heart.