Page 6 of Stolen By Her Alien Mate

“I apologize for the de-de-delay in processing your most recent request, sir. I will adjust the environmental controls in the room immediately.”

“Frack the enviro controls. What the hell was in that message?”

Cass blinks again, seeming to notice for the first time how crowded and how silent the room is. If I didn’t know he’s incapable of surprise, I’d say the Historian was taken aback to see C&C full of bystanders, eager to hear this mysterious message.

But even at the height of the Empire, Historians were incapable of emotion.

Still, Cass cocks his head just slightly as he explains, “The message is indeed from Irick. He claims to have been kidnapped by a species of space-faring slave traders over a decade ago. They crash-landed on a planet known by locals as Earth.”

Cass’s explanation sends a ripple of energy through the group as several of the workers in C&C exchange nervous glances. None of us know what this means for the rebellion. If it means anything at all.

Cass, who is never great at reading the mood of a room, continues in the same monotone. “Earth is rumored to be one of the six mythical sister planets seeded by the Sullec Prophets millennia ago during The Great Drift. As the closest, it was the most likely destination for the lost shuttle of Persæn princesses. And indeed Irick’s be’lahshuk, a woman named Cressida of Austin, has sent details about a woman she believes is one of the princesses.”

And just like that, the room goes still, as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room.

There is a beat of silence and then Radford, with his steady, quiet authority, asks, “What?”

Cass looks at Radford before touching his palm once more to the wall. “The message from Cressida of Austin was quite detailed and contained much information that is likely irrelevant. However, she included this picture of Princess Joey Kincaid of the HatCreek Clan.”

One right after another, a series of pictures pop up on the viz screen. Several are squares and include multiple people and a variety of locations. One is round and a closeup of a single woman. Her hair is a mass of copper curls, her mouth full and smiling, her eyes a warm amber.

Her neck is bare in only one of the pictures, one that seems to be a candid shot of her and another woman. In the picture she looks quite young. Her hair is pulled back and hidden beneath some kind of covering. With her neck bare, three seed marks are clearly visible.

“As you can see,” Cass continues. “She does indeed appear to be Persæn. In fact, based on the progression of her seed marks, she seems to have already been matched with a mate.”

Even though he’s talking, his words feel like they’re swimming at me through a flood. My vision is tunneling, my heart racing as I step closer to the viz screen on the wall.

I don’t stop until I am even closer to her image than Cass.

I have to swallow before I speak, but I don’t know if I’m swallowing my disbelief or my hope.

“I know her.” I clear my throat and look from her image, back to Radford. “Whatever she calls herself now, she is Jaylerena Kinsaera of the Kinsaera Clan.”

“You’re sure?” Radford asks.

“Yeah.” She’s older than when I saw her last, but her face has haunted my dreams since I was nine turns old. “She’s my be’lahshuk.”

chapter

two

Joey

It’s another glorious day at Big Mo’s Diner.

Translation–nothing interesting ever happens in Hat Creek, Texas, population 982. Especially at the diner, where we have a series of the same customers, day in and day out.

The bell rings as someone steps inside the diner. But I’m in the prep area, so I can’t help them. At the moment, I’m elbows deep refilling the syrup dispensers. I’ve already got the sticky amber confection all over my fingers. If only this would be the worst part of my day. But I’ve worked here long enough to know there is still a lot of shift for things to get worse.

Thankfully we’ve already survived our busiest time of the day and we’re now in the lull of midafternoon.

“Joey!” Lorraine yells. “You got a customer asking for you.”

Oh shit! A customer looking for me specifically? That can’t be good.

I’ve worked at Big Mo’s for over a year now, but I certainly don’t have any regular customers that ask for me. Sexy Charlene, who usually works the night shift, always has men coming in looking for her. Lorraine, who has that sassy-waitress thing going, mothers everyone, and has worked here basically forever, has a slew of regulars. Me? I blend into the woodwork.

And the last time anyone came looking for me, it was because my car was in the shop and I couldn’t afford to pick it up.