Page 50 of The Alien Reindeer's Bounty
Mads ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against his antler buds. Speaking with his uncle was like standing in a swarm of bees. The male buzzed and hummed, his mind moving in a dozen directions at once. If he grew agitated, he’d sting.
“That is not your concern,” Mads said.
“An incomplete bond is exactly my business. Nothing in the sample I procured—”
“You stole.”
“Procured from the female,” Karl continued, waving away Mads’ correction. “The sample indicated that she has responded to the bond. Have you given her your genetic material?”
“My material?” His mind scanned through a very short list of what Karl considered genetic material.
“I mean your semen. Do not be embarrassed. We are both adults here.”
“I know what you mean,” he snapped.
His uncle continued as if Mads had not spoken. “Bond with a human is different than with another reilendeer, for obvious reasons. Without fangs, they cannot bite and draw blood, which leaves seminal fluid as the next best method to complete the bond. You drew her blood?”
Mads remembered their long-ago kiss, Odessa slipping on the ice, and his accidental bite. He tasted her blood and his body reacted to her genetic information, initiating the mate bond. “Yes. That’s how it happened.”
“No change on your brain scan. How disappointing.” Karl studied the screen, still moving about the room from workbench to workbench. “Tell me, when you shift, is it with difficulty? Hmm. Perhaps that is the wrong question. Can you shift? Is that why you won’t display your antlers?”
Irritation flared in Mads. “I’m not a child. I can control my antlers. And yes, I can shift. No, it is not difficult.” Shifting involved flexing a mental muscle, as best as Mads could describe the process. When he was younger, shifting was difficult. Often, he could not control the process and would be stuck between stages. That was one reason his father chose to live in relative isolation with plenty of room for a young shifter to roam. The more he practiced, the more he honed that mental muscle and the easier the process became for his body.
“Is it true that some reilendeer have lost the ability to shift?” Karl perched on the edge of a table, all his focus on Mads.
“The four-legged form is not considered fashionable, not fit for polite conversation,” he said. Mads kept to himself but he knew that mentioning shifting was considered impolite at best and barbaric at worst. Shifting had become an entirely private matter on Reilen.
The first shifts of young calves had always been a familial matter, something the herd handled. These shifts were messy and uncontrolled, as was most of puberty and adolescence. Mads could not say if it had always been shameful and hidden, as his adolescence was spent on Earth, but that shame now encompassed all aspects of what was a natural part of a reilendeer’s life, and he chafed against it.
“Polite conversation? What nonsense,” Karl muttered. “I suppose nudity is impolite too.”
“Shifts are considered impolite.” No one spoke of their four-legged form. Reilen had huge swaths of public land, perfect terrain for roaming on either two legs or four, and those parks remained empty. Mads lost himself in the expansive parks and wilderness at every opportunity, and only rarely encountered another reilendeer.
“The military no longer includes the four-legged form in combat operations. They say it is inefficient,” Mads said. Early in his military service, he shifted to conduct scouting over rough terrain. When his superior officer found out, Mads had been disciplined. Four legs and antlers had no place in the modern Reilen military.
“That’s ridiculous. Fluid armor has been used for centuries. Soldiers can shift and not lose their armor.”
Mads held up his hands in surrender. “I am telling you what I know. I wasn’t privy to the reasoning.”
“Herds are gone. No one has a bond mate. No one shifts. Everyone wears pants. Are we even reilendeer anymore?” Karl tossed himself down onto a chair. “What are you still doing here? Go.”
“The tracker?”
The old bull waved his hand dismissively. “I need time to formulate a compound to neutralize the nanos.”
“My handler is growing impatient. He wants results.” Mads could only wander around Earth and fail to locate his target for so long before he would be replaced. The tracker implant needed to be gone before that happened.
“Next week. I don’t know. I’m too upset to work now.” Karl turned his attention to the tablet computer and tuned everything out. Mads knew from experience that their visit had concluded.
Chapter 14
Odessa
Another Friday night. A cold front rolled through and temperatures plunged unseasonably low. Frigid air rushed into the market with every customer walking through the doors.
It had been exactly a week since going out with Bonnie for drinks after work. A week since her employee and friend vanished.
Bonnie failed to show up Tuesday, or any day that week. Technically, Odessa had grounds to fire her, but she found herself reluctant to do so. Something happened to Bonnie, that much was clear. Until the cops turned up a body—
