Hazel

The world slowly came back into focus.

The same technician had a startled look on his face.

The hand clutching the cellophane wrapped mint dropped the candy. Her knees gave way and Hazel fell to the floor.

The same room. The same technician.

She hadn’t gone anywhere.

The space behind her eyes ached.

Correction. She was teleported and rematerialized in the exact same location. The teleport must have failed. They did that, right? If the receiver pad wasn’t operational it sent you back to the starting location? Cold dread settled in her stomach and Hazel knew, knew, that her ex-husband had somehow managed to stop the teleportation. There was no escaping him. She was defective and he was the only one who wanted her. He’d told her as much, and she believed him now.

“Hang on,” the tech said. “Let me see what happened.”

“I’m going to be sick,” Hazel said.

“Not in my machine! Eat the mint!” the tech ran into the room and shoved another mint at her.

Her churning stomach settled immediately. Someone pressed another cup of black mint tea in her hand and guided her to a chair. Hazel couldn’t say how long she sat there, staring into the paper cup until the tea grew cold.

“Hazel Rovelli?”

Her head jerked up at her name. A black woman in a sharp suit with hair pulled back in a no nonsense braid stood in the doorway. Her posture had military precision but there was something about the woman that made Hazel want to trust her. “You a fed or something?”

“Agent Penny Novak,” the woman said, extending her hand. “You’re a hard lady to find.”

“Not hard enough,” Hazel muttered. “Is there a reason my teleportation was canceled?” The recruitment office couldn’t stress hard enough that teleportation happened immediately. Once the match was made, it became real to people, they got cold feet and tried to back out. She could understand that. Last minute nerves and panic made her try to run away that morning.

“Mind if I join you?” Agent Novak said moments before sitting next to Hazel.

“I don’t know what story Scott spun for you, but I was matched. He can’t stop me from going.” Hazel lifted her chin, ready to fight.

“Scott Schwartztrauber? That bag of hot air? He is involved but not the way you think. You were teleported to your match. Congratulations on that, by the way. I understand you volunteered.” Her well wishes sounded sincere.

“Um, thanks, but I’m still here on Earth.”

Agent Novak sipped her own coffee. “Funny thing about the ladies who volunteer. Almost all who sign up only do it after they meet a Mahdfel.”

“I’ve seen Mahdfel before.” From a distance. Never really spoke to one. Or kissed one.

Until yesterday. Until her alien.

“They have this one amazing encounter, meet a warrior who really speaks to their soul, and the attraction is unbelievable and so they volunteer to be matched, knowing the odds are not in their favor because raw attraction doesn’t mean genetic compatibility and they could be matched to anyone, anywhere, but they hope for their warrior. Sound familiar?”

“You’ve met my ex-husband so I think you understand why I was anxious to get off planet. And I could have been matched to him.” It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities. “It’s not some starry-eyed fantasy.” 

Agent Novak’s wrist comm chimed. “Hang on. They know not to call me at work. Do you mind if I check?” Hazel shrugged her shoulders and Agent Novak’s attention shifted to her comm. “Yeah. You know... I don’t care that your brother has a sword. Yes. Well, he’s older than you. You did what? Does your father know? Wait, of course he knows. Did he give you the damned sword, too? Uh-huh. No. No. Don’t argue with your mother. Is it one of the parts that grow back? Well maybe the other boys should make fun of you for cutting off the tip of your own tail. Put your father on. Now.” She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and her tone shifted from exasperated but patient to angry. “What the hell were you thinking? He’s too young. You promised me no sharp edges. Yes, he is eight. He’s my baby! I don’t care how old you were. Did you slice off the tip of your tail, too? Really?” She paused. “Really. No, I can’t say I find that particularly funny. Look, we’ll talk about this later. Right now I’m trying to convince a woman that marrying a Mahdfel isn’t the worst decision she could make but my credibility is in the toilet and she’s giving me some serious side eye right now. Yes, love you too.”

Agent Novak sighed and downed the rest of her coffee. “So that was my husband and son. Apparently the barb at the tip of their tails falls out like a baby tooth, but making the kid chop it off is funnier.” She rolled her eyes. “Aliens.”

“You married an alien.”

“What gave it away? The tail or giving an eight year old with no impulse control a sword?”

“But you’re on Earth.”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be whisked away?”

“He’s stationed on Earth.”

“Is that how you got your job?”

“I got my job because I have a degree in political science.”

Hazel didn’t know what to say to that. She never went to college or did anything beyond high school. “Have you been married long? It must have happened right after the invasion.”

“Look, my personal life isn’t the issue. There’s been an incident and since you volunteered, you have some options.” She reached into her inner jacket pocket and withdrew a small tablet.

“What incident?”

“Your ex-husband has accused Mr. Rhew of assault.”

“He’s lying!” Hazel shot to her feet. For a moment she swayed, still a dizzy from the teleportation. “Whatever he said, Seeran didn’t do anything.”

“Mr. Rhew has already confessed.”

Hazel sank back down into the seat, deflated. “Oh. What happened?”

“It seems Mr. Rhew broke into Mr. Schwartztrauber’s hotel room and,” she glanced down at a tablet computer, “dislocated his shoulder.”

Hazel chuffed.

“That’s funny to you?” Agent Novak asked, slipping into her mom voice.

“Not really, but the jerk had it coming. He gave me these yesterday,” Hazel said, pushing up the sleeves of her shirt to reveal mottled green and purple bruises. The rest of the story came spilling out, Scott confronting her at the restaurant, laying his hands on her and getting her fired. Her voice warmed as she explained how Seeran was the only person to actually step in and help and when the police showed up, they didn’t care about the restraining order and wanted to “make an example” of the alien.

“They used those words exactly?” Agent Novak asked with a frown.

“I didn’t get anyone in trouble, did I?”

“They got themselves in trouble. Bigoted assholes. What did they think would happen? A woman in distress in front of a Mahdfel is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do.”

“Is Seeran in trouble?”

“I’m sure the local police would love to lock up the alien menace but it’s not their jurisdiction and I don’t have the inclination to penalize a warrior for following his gut. Right now he’s being detained.”

“For how long?”

“Here’s the thing. By his own admission, Mr. Rhew did assault a civilian and he did violate the terms of the treaty. Deportation is the standard penalty but assault is special. It negates matches made during the time the warrior in question is held.”

Hazel wasn’t sure what that meant.

“He has to leave Earth and forfeits any match made to him while he was in our custody. But that’s for the mandatory matches. You were a volunteer.” Agent Novak paused. “You get a choice. Stay single and stay on Earth or go sit with your husband in detention. The cell’s aren’t a hotel but they’re comfy enough.”

“I was matched to Seeran?” Against all the odds, just like something out of those cheesy soap operas she loved. And just like in the soap operas, he was in prison for a crime he committed but he broke the law for the morally right reason. This shouldn’t make her all warm and gooey on the inside, but it did. While she was getting tested, Seeran violated intergalactic law. For her, a stranger he had only meet hours before. And now they were married for less than twenty-four hours and he was in space prison.

This was better than any soap opera. This was her life and she’d never been so excited.

“Yes! Yes.” Hazel jumped to her feet. “Of course. Why are we still sitting here? I want to see my husband.”

Seeran

SEERAN REFUSED TO BE humiliated as the guards shoved him into the holding cell. He refused to feel shame. He paced the width of the cell and counted out the reasons he would not bow his back in humility. Yes, his actions were dishonorable. Criminal, the FBIA agent said, before rattling off an impressive list of violated laws: breaking and entering, aggravated assault, which was a felony, and harassment.

He admitted to it all. He assaulted an unarmed Terran male. It did not matter that Scott deserved every blow and worse. It did not matter that Seeran did so to protect his mate. It did not matter that the Terran authorities refused to do anything, to uphold even their own laws. He would not be shamed by taking the correct actions.

The Terrans thought they could punish him for these crimes by forbidding him from their humid, crowded and annoyingly loud planet, the same Earth that took away his mate before he had a chance to clap eyes on her.

The same Earth that gave him back a mate.

He recalled with perfect clarity the way the sun picked out the gold in her blonde hair. She wore the most ridiculous and intriguing outfit—just too little triangles of cloth that barely concealed her breasts—with utter confidence. It took all his discipline not to stare at her chest or the way it lifted with each breath.

Beyond her appealing physical form, he liked her curiosity and shy smile. Even when discussing unpleasant things, she smiled softly and never flinched from a hard truth.

He wanted to bring her to Neimydd Mountain, to roam same grounds where he played as a child and to meet his parents. He wanted to walk with her through the cultivated rows of the family’s vineyard that sloped up the valley. He wanted to hold her hand, to hold her, and watch the setting sun turn the mountain face golden as the light vanished. He wanted more time to know her.

How did he imagine that he could wait until she was tested? Every day spent waiting was a day lost. And what if they were not a good match? What if she fell below the legally enforceable limit of 98.5%?

His heart thudded uncomfortably at the next thought: what if she were matched to another?

He had her in his arms! His lips on hers and her enthusiastic response indicated pleasure. He should have claimed her then as they had already shared a bitter drink together in the marriage tradition of his mother’s people. He should have sank his fangs into the smooth curve of her shoulder and left a mark for all other males to know she belonged to him.

No. It was probably against etiquette to claim a female minutes after meeting. There had to be an acceptable time frame. An hour? A conversation? A kiss? And what did he do? Shared a drink, kissed his mate and let her walk away, like a fool. Instead of seeking out the gutless Scott, he should have sought out Hazel, kissed her again, and then claimed her.

Rage and yearning and frustration and wistful longing tumbled inside him.

No. To claim a female without her consent was unforgivable and to claim a female without the test was against the treaty. He knew that and yet he disgusted himself because he did not care. If he had claimed his mate, lawfully or not, he’d be right back here in the same detainment cell, waiting for exile from this blasted planet, only he had forfeited all his rights to his mate.

He may have forfeited his rights already.

He should be grateful his discipline saved him from dishonor but he was not. He felt remorse at the missed opportunity and then a fresh wave of disgust at his own selfish desires. He was a poor warrior to only think of his wants and his longing.

He needed to do better. He needed to be better. 

Seeran’s steps paused. A blue energy field separated him from the guards, one human and the other Mahdfel but not Sangrin-Mahdfel. The warrior was one of the red-skinned, barbed tailed males from Rolusdreus.

“Can they not locate my mate?” Seeran asked.

The warrior gave him a sympathetic look but said nothing.

“She is unprotected and her former mate intends to punish her.”

Teach that bitch a lesson, exactly, because no one can stop me.

Seeran’s blood heated all over again at the memory of Scott’s words. He’d do more than dislocated a shoulder if given the chance.

“They must find her,” Seeran said.

Both guards looked right past him, as if he were invisible. He expected as much from the Terrans, but to have his own brother, even a brother from another clan, disregard him so stung.

The Terrans would do nothing to protect Hazel. He clearly had not done enough to ensure her safety if Scott felt so bold as to cry to the authorities.

Seeran could not rely on the Terrans. He had to protect his mate himself.

“I must find her!”

The Terran guard focused his gaze on Seeran. “Quiet. You’re supposed to think about what you did and be a repentant little alien before we give you the boot.”

Seeran was sure the language chip did not translate the last word correctly.

“My mate is unprotected!”

The red-skinned Mahdfel finally spoke. “And who do you have to blame for that?”

Only himself. For the first time, his shoulders sagged. His actions were ill advised. Dishonorable. He did not care that it tarnished his reputation. He did not care that his warlord would deliver a suitable punishment. He would suffer the consequences of his actions.

Only he would not suffer alone. Hazel suffered, too.

She was alone. Unprotected. And Seeran was locked away, unable to help and soon he would be barred from her very planet.

He did this. He made everything worse.

If only he had exhibited the patience and calm that a proper Mahdfel warrior should have, he could be holding his mate now, stroking her fine hair and—

Seeran pounded a fist against the barrier, blue sparks flying at impact. He had made such a star-cursed mess of the situation. His mate was here and every action he’d taken in the last twenty-four hours whisked her farther away.

“Calm down or I’ll stun you,” the Terran guard warned, as if the tiny stings of a stunner would deter him.

Seeran threw himself at the barrier, creating a loud crack and a spark of blue light. The force threw him back to the floor. It hurt no more than the stunner. He had broken through a barrier once, in his youth to prove it could be done.

He pick himself off the floor and tossed himself at the barrier again.

Hazel was alone. She needed him.

He needed her.

Another crack and Seeran was once again on his back. His muscles spasmed and nerve endings tingled.

He picked himself up off the floor.

“You’re not getting another warning.”

He did it again.

The vent high on the wall hissed and an odorless grey fog filled the room. Seeran was familiar with sedation gas, being a favored trick of the Suhlik. Terran weapons could not hope to stop him and if the guard felt reckless, they would have to lower the barrier to use their worthless weapons. Gas was the only way to immobilize him.

Seeran heaved against the barrier again, this time with less force. His limbs grew heavy. Despite the sting of the barrier, he slumped to the floor, letting the sting slide over his entire left side.

“Jesus, we can’t leave him there. He’ll fry his brains.”

“If we lower the barrier, he may revive.”

“He’s too far gone. The gas got him fast. His heart rate must have been up. I’ll lower it and you give him a shove.”

Seeran fell back until a rough pair of hands grabbed him under the arms and dragged him further into the room. He was not moved to the bed but positioned on his side on the floor. He wanted to thank the warrior for his efficient technique but the words came out garbled, his tongue thick and his jaw mushy. 

“Imagine what he would have done if he known he’d been matched to the female,” the Mahdfel guard said to his companion.

“He would have gone out of his purple-horned mind,” the other agreed.

***

SEERAN’S MIND WOKE before his body. He swam into consciousness through a syrupy haze. He could not place the room or why he was on the floor. A numbness cloaked his body and would not respond in a sufficient manner. Gradually sensation returned, nerve endings screaming in complaint. 

He remembered.  Everything.

The shame he refused to acknowledge earlier finally settled heavy in his chest. He was a brute, a barely civilized barbarian and every cruel but true thing the Terran police said about him.

He had never felt lonely until he let Hazel walk away yesterday.

No, he corrected his thought. He did not let her. She did not require his permission. She simply walked away.

Was it the gnawing loneliness that pushed him? The bitter part of him wanted to blame the constant exposure to Vox and his female and their insufferable joy, but he knew that was not true.  Nor was it entirely having lost Lova all those years ago. All he knew for certain was that he would be sent back to the Judgment and Paax would deliver whatever punishment he saw fit, and if he survived, Seeran would return once again to his empty quarters.

When his body finally woke, he stretched slowly. The lingering effects of the sedation gas hindered his reflexes so he put himself through the warrior training forms. As a youth he practiced the forms quickly until he responded with muscle memory, without thought, and he practiced the forms in a slow and deliberate meditative manner to develop his discipline. His youthful flesh wanted to rush through the forms but control held back and that was the most important thing a young warrior could master. Deliberate action. Fluid motion. Control over his thoughts and his flesh. If only he’d had such discipline yesterday.

The guards stirred. He paid them no mind. He practiced the forms with his father as the sun rose. Dawn came late in the mountains, the sky lighting to a pearly grey before the first true rays of the sun peaked over the horizon. Every morning they did the forms, rain or snow; hot or cold. His mother would sometimes join them. She was not a warrior but had a dancer’s grace. Her movements were imprecise but meaningful. She told a story as she moved. Seeran had only to listen.

He wanted very much to share this moment with his own son, but his wants were inconsequential. The moment would come and he would be patient. Somehow. It was a struggle.

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

“You questioning an order?” a new voice, a female voice, said.

“No, ma’am. He was riled up is all. I don’t want a civilian getting hurt.”

“She’s his mate. He won’t hurt her.”

“We willing to take that risk?”

“I am,” a new voice said. A cherished voice.

Seeran tensed.

Hazel. Hazel said that.

He turned to face the door.

Hazel stood next to another Terran female. It registered that the other female was the agent from earlier in the day, the one who brought him to the detainment facility. It did not matter. He only had eyes for his mate.

She looked tired but sound. No visible injuries. No visible blood. If the barrier were down he would have been able to scent any blood but he had to rely on a visual inspection. If the barrier were down, a voice in the back of his mind whispered, he would have his mate in his arms and his fangs on her neck ready for a claiming mark.

Perhaps the barrier was still necessary.

“Mr. Rhew,” the agent said, striding toward the barrier. She paused at the control panel. “I’m going to be frank. You are no longer welcome on Earth.”

He grunted. He knew that.

“It’s Earth policy to let the warlords sort out disciplinary measures.” A grin briefly tugged at the corner of her mouth. “We know our limitations and we’re not interested in building a Mahdfel-resistant prison, so we’re kicking this can down the road and letting your lot sort it out. Is that clear?”

“Not at all. Your use of idioms is confusing.”

“Not our monkey, not our circus.”

“That clarified nothing.”

“It means you’re not our problem,” the agent said. Novak, Seeran remembered. That was her name. 

“Since you violated the terms of the Mahdfel-Earth treaty, any match made between an Earth woman and you is void.” Agent Novak paused. “Ordinarily. Ms. Rovelli volunteered, which means she gets the choice to walk away or stay married to a hot-headed idiot.”

Seeran caught Hazel’s eyes. She held his gaze. Hope flared bright, stinging harsher than when he threw himself against the force field.

“So what do you say, do you take this purple-headed fool to be your lawfully wedded husband.”

Hazel’s lip twitched. Seeran suspected a joke he did not understand. “I do,” she said.

“I can’t release Mr. Rhew, yet. We’re trying to locate your clan but it seems there was an incident and the Judgment is not where the Council left it.” Agent Novak gave Seeran a sharp look, as if he were to blame for his warlord’s bad behavior. His warlord may have received a challenge from the lower ranking warriors in the clan. Jostling for the leadership was their way and Seeran made a short list of the likely suspects. “I can’t offer you luxury accommodations or anything like privacy, Ms. Rovelli, but you can wait with Mr. Rhew in his cell.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Hazel said. The force field dropped and Hazel quickly entered.

They faced each other, bodies tense with uncertainty and the world fell away. In that moment there was only Seeran and Hazel, a male unworthy of his female. His mate rushed forward and threw her arms around him.

“Enjoy your honeymoon suite,” Agent Novak said and the force field turned dark.