Hazel

Leaning against a wall, Hazel fidgeted with her phone and glanced up at the police station doors. Waiting. What was she even doing? Hanging around police stations, waiting for her alien rescuer to emerge? And then what?

She had no idea. She just wanted to talk to him, at least for a little bit. It felt important. He felt important, like they were on the cusp of something big, and she couldn’t just let that go. That fluttery, nervous feeling in her gut was worth all the awkward hanging around police stations in the world.

What if the local police found some obscure charges—or Scott and his money leaned on the chief of police—and kept him? Could they even do that? Weren’t all alien affairs considered military matters?

Hazel frowned, punching at her phone, wishing she had paid more attention to her civics class in school. Maybe if she had been a better student, she’d know if she should call her local representative or the military base about the Mahdfel who rescued her and... and...And she had no idea what to do after that. Rescue him? Her nose scrunched up at the idea. Someone with all those muscles didn’t need a waitress to rescue him.

The rough brick dug into her shoulders and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She adjusted the sarong and arranged it into a short halter dress, covering her bikini top and bottom. Still in her work uniform, she wasn’t out of place in a beach town. Plenty of people were showing more skin. She just wanted to thank her alien, not give him the wrong idea. 

The doors opened. Hazel stood up straight and held her breath until a heather-toned Mahdfel male and a human woman with bright red hair emerged. Not her alien, then. She slumped back against the wall, more upset that she already considered Seeran her alien than the prospect of continuing to wait. Her day was already ruined; Scott saw to that. She probably wouldn’t have a job when she got back to the restaurant. Seeing Seeran, if only to mumble out an awkward thanks, would salvage her crummy day. 

For the thousandth time, she cursed her taste in men. She had the worst taste, just the worst. Scott was living proof. Even if she thanked her alien with an innocent smile, what did she think would happen? She’d charm him? Beguile him after that shit show with Scott on the beach and then all the screaming inside the police station?

Yeah. If the alien had half a brain, he’d want nothing to do with her. Trouble followed her like she owed it money.

The door opened again. Her male emerged.

Seeran stood for a moment in the sun, talking to the other Mahdfel and woman. They must be friends and paid his bail. What if that woman was his wife? Jealousy itched between her shoulders. He probably already had a mate and just helped out a woman in distress because he was a good guy. The one good guy she liked and he was already taken. Maybe, knowing her luck.

Hazel shifted from foot to foot, uncertain. She needed to know. She needed to speak to him.

The woman motioned in Hazel’s direction. Both males followed her gaze.

Hazel blushed furiously. So much for being subtle, time to try brazen. She pushed herself off the wall and walked across the parking lot. As she got closer, she noticed the other male place a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Not Seeran’s mate, then. A Mahdfel would never allow another male to touch his mate.

Seeran’s icy gaze focused on her. He didn’t even look pleased to see her again. Gah, this was such a mistake. She should have gone home and got everything together to leave.

“Hi,” Hazel said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes followed the movements of her hand.

“Hi,” he said slowly, as if uncertain.

“Oh my God, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” the woman said, clapping her hands in delight.

“My mate, you are being rude,” the other male said in English. A quick glance from him confirmed that he spoke for Hazel’s benefit. 

“I paid Seeran’s bail, I can be as rude as I want.”

“I, um...” Hazel started.

The male with the friendly face nodded once to Seeran and turned to leave, taking the woman with him.

“Come on,” she protested, “can’t a pregnant lady bask in the awkward adorableness of her friend’s bad flirting? You’re no fun at all.”

The male growled something in her ear, for only her to hear. She giggled and followed, a smile on her face.  Hazel felt a deep yearning. She wanted that, exactly that.

Hazel turned her attention to her rescuer. “Seeran?”

He nodded and said her name, “Hazel.”

She shivered in response to her name on his lips, uttered with such longing...

“Cold?” he asked. From the gleam in his eyes, he wanted to ask more but knew she wouldn’t understand.

“What? No. I’m fine.”

Seeran reached for her. She flinched, momentarily. He hesitated before skimming his fingers along the goosebumps that ran down her arms. “This. Cold.”

“Oh. We just do that sometimes.” Her nipples were hard, too, but she was the farthest thing from cold at the moment. “Could we, I don’t know, get a drink? Coffee? And talk?”

Coffee, that was innocent enough. Booze lowered inhibitions and implied that something might happen. Coffee was respectable. Everyone kept their clothes on at a coffee shop.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, just as a thank you. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Aliens drank coffee, right? Gah, this whole situation was ridiculous. She should just leave while she still had her dignity. Leaving town and starting over didn’t just happen. She had a lot to do in a short amount of time.

He searched her face before finally responding with a curt nod. “Yes. Coffee.”

Gah, that accent. His voice made her all melty inside. Coffee was definitely the right choice, the safe choice. Get one glass of wine in her and she might try to climb him like a tree, or invite him back to her tiny apartment and ride him all night like a cowgirl.

Her core ached at the thought and she squeezed her thighs together. She needed coffee, she reminded herself, perfectly innocent coffee.

She was such a liar. She needed something that started with a c and it wasn’t coffee. 

Seeran

SHE WAS BOLD.

“Great. I saw a place across the street.” Hazel smiled brightly. Terran faces were so expressive, transmitting every thought and emotion they experienced.

They sat outside a coffee dispensary. A tired looking female took their order and left the two in silence. Sunlight fell on his mate, picking out the gold in her pale hair. He wanted to twist his fingers into that hair and wrap the strands securely.

Anticipation wound tightly at the base of his spine, making him stand a little straighter. She didn’t know what she asked for but she was bold, nonetheless. This female was made for him.

Seeran pushed down the guilty thought that sharing a drink with this female was wrong. Yes, coffee was not the mating ceremony tea but it was a bitter brew just the same. It was not the beverage that made the ceremony. It was the sharing of cups, contemplating the journey they were about to begin and speaking.

Speaking...

He had only spoken to his mate in broken words. He understood everything she said thanks to an implanted translator, but she could not understand him. Reaching into his pocket, Seeran pulled out a black cube, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

“Is that a portable translator? I’ve never seen one in real life.”

Seeran activated the cube. “I found it necessary when interacting with civilian Terrans.”

“You had that the entire time and you let those cops talk to you like you were an idiot?”

He couldn’t resist a smile. “You’re observant.”

“Yeah, well, you work all day in customer service, you notice things.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m still a lousy judge of character,” she muttered.

“I am pleased you asked to share this moment with me,” Seeran said.

Her eyes were wide, as if startled. “It’s only coffee and considering that you saved my bacon—”

It was not only coffee. This was more. His mate might not realize, but this would be their mating ceremony. He would hold the moments and minutes they spent together in his heart. If he never saw her again—and he likely wouldn’t—he’d have this moment frozen in memory.

Earth had taken one mate from him years ago. Today it gave another. 

“Did he hurt you?” Seeran glanced down at the black box, waiting for it to translate. This was not the most efficient method of communication but it was better than his broken Terran.

Her cheeks colored red and she absently rubbed at a shoulder. Seeran recognized the unconsciously motions of favoring an old wound.  “Not really. Scott prefers to use his words rather than his fists.”

Seeran plucked her hand off her shoulder. Their fingers intertwined without hesitation. Her palm fit his, like it was made for exactly this purpose, to be held by him.

She turned his hand over, palm up. A pale finger traced the line where his normally deep wine complexion joined the paler lavender of his palm. “Our hands do that, too. This line right here.” Her touch sent a shiver of delight through him. “I’ve always wondered why.”

“The palm contains less pigmentation but you are avoiding answering an uncomfortable question.” Her gaze met his. Her eyes were a deep brown with warm golden flecks that caught in the sunlight. He memorized every detail, to comfort himself on long, lonely nights. “Now tell me again but this time the truth,” he said.

“Never anything that left a mark,” she said, voice breathy. “Like I said, he used words but sometimes he’d push me, say it was an accident or I should watch where I’m going. Once he pushed me, I stumbled and fell down the steps. My shoulder dislocated.”

A predatory growl rumbled deep in his chest. He would hunt down this Scott and repay him for every push and dislocated joint.

Hazel shook her head, as if shaking off unwanted memories. Seeran dropped her hand and she wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. “That was the night I left. I drove myself to the hospital and then I went to my sister’s place. Hell of a wake-up call. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

That a male could abuse his mate in such a way was unfathomable to Seeran. “How could your clan allow this to happen? Were the other males blind? Why did they do nothing?”

She took a sip, a bitter smile on her face. “Because he’s charming. Abusers are charming. That’s one of the things I’ve read. Their public face is all charm but at home he was... different. His temper was out of control. Any little thing would set him off.” Another sip. “I really don’t want to talk about him anymore. I left. We’re divorced. The end.”

“It is not the end. Scott does not believe it is the end.”

“Well fuck Scott,” she said, venom creeping into her voice. “If he thinks he can bully me, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll get a dog. A gun. Something.”

She glanced at him over the rim of her cup and away again. Seeran much preferred this bitter, venomous version of Hazel than the tired, sad woman recanting her story. This version had fire in her.

“A Mahdfel?” he offered.

“The thought crossed my mind,” she murmured. “I have to register for the Draft this year.” Some bright emotion flickered across her face. “You’re not single, are you?”

Seeran looked pointedly at the cup in her hands and the cup in front of him. “No.” Not anymore. Whether they were officially matched through the genetic test or not, he belonged to her.

Her shoulders slumped. “Oh. Lucky girl.”

He was the lucky one. He opened his mouth to say as much but the watery gleam in her eyes gave him pause. Such words, even if true, would hurt her. Hazel had been hurt enough, he would not add to her grief.

“I had a mate. Once,” he said.

Her head tilted to the side, the sunlight picking out more strands of gold. “Had?”

“She died.” Seeran had not thought of Lova in many years and today he thought of her several times. The universe was strange that way.

“I’m sorry. That has to be hard.” She reached across the table and patted his hand.

Seeran observed her hand, creamy pale skin contrasting against his own purplish-red complexion.

“Sorry,” she said, withdrawing her hand.

“No,” he said quickly, snatching her hand back. “Do not apologize for a compassionate touch.”

A fragile smile spread slowly across her face, brighter than the Terran sun. 

“The story of my first mate is not happy,” Seeran said.

“Oh, you don’t have to explain—”

He waved his hand, dismissing her protests. Strangely, he wanted to share his history with her. He had not thought of Lova in many years and he certainly had never spoken about her fate, not to anyone except his parents and, even then, only once. “I came to Earth during the invasion,” he said. “I was matched to a female from Sangrin. Lova. They sent her to Earth.”

“I recognize that name. The soap opera I watch is set on Sangrin.”

“It is planet of my mother’s people.” His father, too. Seeran was second generation Sangrin-Mahdfel. He took a long swallow of the bitter black coffee before continuing. “At the time, teleportation equipment was kept in the Terran encampments. There was a quarantine.”

“The spore virus?”

Seeran shook his head. While the Suhlik released many biological agents during the war, that was not the reason for the quarantine. “Influenza.”

“Oh. Healthy people normally recover from the flu. Maybe not during war but in regular situations...”

Seeran remembered the anger and frustration as his mate was held behind the quarantine blockade. Illness ran like wildfire through the malnourished Terran population where they clustered together for shelter and food. “For a Terran, perhaps. She had been inoculated against many of the biological agents used by the Suhlik but we were unprepared for this. I never met her.”

“She was in quarantine the entire time?” Hazel gasped, covering her mouth with one hand.

He nodded. He had a mate and Earth took her away before he ever had a chance to speak to her. Normally such a look of shock or pity would irritate Seeran, but Hazel’s sincere reaction of  distress comforted him. He was a widower, an unusual situation for a Mahdfel male and not one he cared to casually discuss. Widows were far more common given the danger in a warrior’s life.

Hazel reached across the table and squeezed his hand lightly. “Thank you for sharing that. Do you miss her?”

“It has been many years.” It was hard to miss what he never knew. The idea of her... perhaps. “Matches are rare. A male may wait his entire life for an event that never happens.”

“A bit like lightning striking?”

“Yes.” For him, lightning struck twice.

Hazel glanced at the communication unit on her wrist.

“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.

“I just need to get to the bank before it closes, but I’d rather stay.” A sweet pink flush spread across her face.

“Then it must be so. Call your vehicle and we will go.”

The flush intensified. “My, um, car isn’t that fancy. It doesn’t have autopilot. I have to go pick it up.”

Seeran requested a public transport. In moments, the driverless vehicle arrived. Hazel seemed surprised when he climbed in after her. “I will escort you to your destination,” he explained. The Terran authorities would not detain Scott for long and Seeran needed to ensure that Hazel was unharmed. He’d remain at her side as long as she allowed and would shadow her if she did not allow.

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” she said.

The wound was small but she struck true and it stung. “I presume too much,” he said. “I apologize.”

“What? No.” She blinked at him, confusion on her face. “I just have a lot to do. Pack. Things. I have things that have to be done and if you’re there, I think we’ll get distracted.” Her eyes swept up his form and lingered on his chest as she spoke.

“I believe the distractions would be enjoyable for us both.”

Her skin blushed a pleasing pink. Intrigued, he reached out a hand, letting his fingers brush her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, but not noticeably warmer. The color change must indicate something other than temperature but he had seen red and pink-faced Terrans sweating in the sun, so the color could indicate temperature. She turned her head and nuzzled into the palm of his hand and all thoughts of human biology vanished.

All but one. 

Seeran leaned in, his lips claiming hers. The first touch was soft, questioning. She yielded, opening to him. His arms wrapped around his mate and pulled her close. His kiss was hard and demanding, a male taking everything he could from his female because it was their first kiss and could be the last. This female was his. Chance brought them together and their paths may never cross again, but he would always remember the feel of her lips on his, her heart fluttering next to his, and the sound of her luscious moan.

He pulled away. She panted, eyes wide. Her fingers drifted to her lips, as if processing all they shared. He wanted to do it again, kiss her until kissing could no longer satisfy them both, until they needed to feel skin on skin.

More than the powerful attraction, Seeran wanted to bring this female to his home. Not the quarters on the Judgment, although he longed to see her in his bed, but to his family’s home on Sangrin, to his parents and to meet his brothers. It was an odd desire. He had never particularly wanted to bring anyone to his family before.

Still holding her, he pressed his forehead to hers. This was his female and he had to let her leave.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, pulling away.

“Do you?” he asked, plucking at the edges of her fabric wrap. The loud pattern grabbed his attention.

“Do I what?” she asked, voice breathless.

“Love aliens?”

“I’m coming around on them.”

With a smile that spoke of longing and regret, she climbed into the transport. He waited until it was out of sight before moving on.