Neff - Oliris 2018

OLIRIS

S. NEFF

Oliris

Copyright 2018 S Neff

Published by Painted Hearts Publishing

About the eBook You Have Purchased

All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, is forbidden. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

Unauthorized reproduction of distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Oliris

Copyright 2018 S Neff

ISBN 10: 1-946379-82-4

ISBN 13: 978-1-946379-82-5

Publication Date: 2 March 2018

Author: S Neff

Editor: Ashley Kain

Proofreader: Kira Plotts

All cover art and logo copyright Painted Hearts Publishing 2018

Cover Design by E Keith and S Neff

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PrologueSentence

(Sena)

Dr. Beal sat in his plush wingback chair and fussed with his com screen, his small frame swallowed by the massive piece of furniture. It was the kind of chair any stereotypical psychologist would drool over, its lush brown leather whispering of success and money earned. In reality, that piece of furniture only meant that one mans ego was much bigger than the small body he inhabited.

Everything about the man in front of me was a clich, down to his collared shirt, tweed sweater vest worn on top, and scrunched, constipated features. He was middle-aged with deep furrow lines on his forehead and purple-tinted skin that hinted at otherworldly descent. His skin tone was the only thing that set him apart from the ideal prudish human male. I hated him, more than shouldve been possiblesince it was only my second visit with the psychiatrist. Other than these sessions, Id enjoyed a cell since my arrest by New City Police two weeks previously.

Senana Dr. Beal said with his clipped tone that grated on my nerves. It also didnt help that I hate my full namewhich Dr. Beal knew from our first sessionand each time he addressed me, he kept using it. It wasnt a common name for a male human, but my mother was from Oltrian, a planet with humanoid beings in the next galaxy over, and my father was from Earth. Theyd met when shed visited Earth on a cultural experience and fallen in love. Two years later, they made me and given me a name that was common on her planet. Thats where I got my name, Senana Saz Rays. Sena, to those I was close to.

Taking a deep breath, I managed to ignore his passive aggressiveness. Ive told you to stop fucking calling me that, I said irritably. Beal didnt look perturbed by my irritation. Instead, he peered calmly back at me, while slightly adjusting his glasses on his bulbous nose.

Senana, may I remind you that you are here for a physiological evaluation? You are here to establish whether you are a threat to others, especially in the situations that you find unsavory. This will be your second known offense: publicly brutalizing another citizen. Its within your best interest to cooperate with me. Calling you by your first name is a common practice on Earth, and should not cause such an extreme reaction. His lips curled up in a derogatory smile and he looked down at his com pad, writing something down with a few annoying taps of his stylus. As you very well know.

A silent boil began in my gut. Beal ignored my silent brooding and proceeded. Senana, you were put into this situation after you attacked another citizen, as you also know. He paused, looking down his narrow nose with violet eyes. Can you tell me the reason for your attacking him?

I ground my teeth and clenched my fists until my knuckles cracked painfully. The slight chair I sat in groaned under my weight as I shifted in agitation. There was no fucking way I would tell anyone why I had really beaten Sean Payne almost to death. If I hadnt let my emotions run wild, I would have gotten my revenge and killed the bastard, but when Id caught sight of him walking down 5th Street in New City, I couldnt hold back the rage that had blinded me. At least Id know hed never get the chance to hurt Rhy again, not after what I did to him.

A feral grin spread across my face as I replayed each moment Payne screamed, begging me to leave him intact. The memory cooled my anger, letting me settle my large frame into the chair and release a little of the tension from my body. Guess he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That being so, Senana, do you really believe that the citizen deserved theexcessive force you used? Beal asked mildly, marking something down on his com screen again, before looking back up at me.

I guess thats between me and Payne, isnt it? I narrowed my eyes. I have no intention of talking to you about any of this. You might as well write whatever bullshit youre going to write and let me leave. I stood up, ready to alert the guards to return me to my cell.

If I may ask? Your anger against Mr. Payne didnt have anything to do with his violent attack against Mr. Sekik, did it? Beals violet eyes stared at me, a red flush to his face.

I sank back down into the flimsy chair. My heart raced and for a second, I almost felt lightheaded. How did Beal know about Rhyans encounter with Payne? There was no way Payne would admit to a crime like that, and it would put him in direct involvement with an affiliate gang member, which went against the leader of his own gang. He wouldnt turn on Dingo, not if he wanted to live a long life.

I dont know what youre fucking talking about, I growled. I would never let it get out what Payne and his men did to Rhyan. Knowledge like that would ruin his reputation in Old City; I couldnt let that happen. I would always protect him, even when it would jeopardize myself.

Sources have informed me that Mr. Sekik was beaten and tortured over a few days. Beal made a motion on his tablet. It says here he had to have more than three hundred stitches from the lacerations covering his body. He also suffered from a fractured tibia, multiple broken fingers, as well as a concussion. He looked up from his device, beady eyes staring right through me. It must have been infuriating to see your friend suffer through so much violence.

I felt the tickle of bile as it climbed up the back of my throat. The gory reminder of my lovers pain brought back the memory of the day Id found him six months ago.

Like horrible flashing reels on an endless film, I would never be able to escape that one moment. Each time it was mentioned, I would be thrusted into that day again, feeling cold as the rain soaked me to the bone.

It was the rain that made me shake and not the fear and horror I felt swallowing me as I looked down at the heap on the sidewalk outside of the Tower, the massive sky-rise hotel blocking out what little light remained in the day. The shadows left me guessing the identity of the naked form huddled on the pavement, broken and most likely dead. It wasnt him, I told myself even as I approached the mangled, bare mess lying still in the downpour. There was no green hair, I debated, so it couldnt be my Rhyan. Still, my body shook as I kneeled down and gently turned him over to reveal what I already knew. My lovers battered face was hardly recognizable, his skull shaved bare. Tattered, broken skin covered in black and blue with large swelling. A wretched noise escaped me as I pulled the barely breathing man to my chest. Fear and anger tore me into practically two people. Nothing mattered in that moment but Rhyan. Nothing should matter but him. Over and over, I kept thinking of nothing but keeping him safe. Yet as I screamed for someone, trying to lift his dead weight into my arms, I knew I was lying to myself. Revenge also mattered. A lot.