Waking now, she realised she felt relaxed. Comfortable. She had slept in someone else’s bed, in their apartment, on a space station orbiting Earth, and she felt a sense of belonging - a feeling she’d never had anywhere else.
After another three minute shower, Angela called for Trix to help her pick out some breakfast.
It is nearly lunch time, Angela, Trix pointed out.
“Are you allowed to be snippy with me?” Angela asked.
Would you like a caffeinated beverage? Trix responded.
“Yes, please, but don’t think I didn’t notice that non-answer.”
Something like a coffee in one hand, Angela went back to the bag Chelsea had packed for her. It wasn’t large - a gym bag size holdall, into which Chelsea had stuffed a mix of Angela’s favourite tops, a couple of pairs of trousers - one spare pair of jeans, one pair of yoga pants - underwear of both the comfortable and sexy variety, ditto pyjamas, and a couple of nice dresses. At the bottom of the bag, Angela found another bag containing some toiletries and the red high heel shoes with a note tucked inside the left one.
Don’t think you’ll get away with this a second time, Parker. I require all the sordid details / carefully coded rescue instructions. Delete as appropriate. Love you x
Angela grinned. Trix had set up a channel of communication with Chelsea the day before, so she grabbed the handheld tablet device from the table next to the armchair and logged in to send a reply.
No sordid details to speak of. Going for date soon. He seems nice. Miss you x
A glance at the time let her know that ‘soon’ really was imminent, no wonder Trix had been snippy about breakfast. Angela finished her drink and headed back into the bedroom to change into something more date appropriate. Normally, she’d wear jeans and a smart top, but as Chelsea had thought to include some dresses, she picked them out. Both were flattering and made her feel feminine and pretty. Chelsea knew her wardrobe well. Settling on the black dress, she got changed, looking at the red shoes for a long moment, before deciding to slip back into the pumps she’d been wearing.
“Trix, do you know if Randar is coming back here to pick me up, or am I meeting him?”
He asked me to take you to his office for midday, Trix replied, the panel in the ceiling overhead opening, and her orb drifting down to Angela’s eye level. If we leave now, we should arrive a few minutes early.
“Perfect,” Angela said.
The benefit of getting up late was that she had no time to be nervous. No time to overthink and second guess. Last night, Randar had seemed genuinely interested in her - had listened attentively and asked her thoughtful questions. They had common interests in travel and food and drink, and Angela found herself excited to spend more time with him. Something she hadn’t felt about a guy in ages. So he was seven feet tall, had greenish skin and scales across his cheekbones that glowed different colours - he was decent and interesting. Angela was surprised how little the fact that he was alien meant to her.
Trix steered her through the station, up onto the walkways and through some corridors. There were more people around now - some of them clearly Human from their wide-eyed stares. The rest of the station population was an eclectic mix of different species, some mostly humanoid, others very much not. Information about known alien species had been made available to Humanity by Prince Cael and his team, but Angela hadn’t really paid it much attention. She never thought there would be any need for her to know. She made a vow to broaden her education next time she had a spare couple of hours and access to Randar’s tablet. In the meantime, she tried not to stare as she walked past beings so pale they looked like they were carved from marble, or the individual with four arms who Trix had greeted as something that sounded like ‘Zrglbla’.
After about ten minutes, they came to a door with an access panel. Angela scanned her wrist across it and was surprised when it clicked open.
You have access to everywhere Randar has access to, Trix said as they stepped through.
“Isn’t that pretty much everywhere?”
Pretty much.
They had to have some faith in the DNA Match Program. Whenever Randar talked about it, he sounded so certain that it worked. Angela knew that a number of Human scientists had been invited to study the test procedures and validate the results for themselves, but so far no one had out and out agreed that it worked. They used phrases like ‘the evidence is compelling’ but said they needed more Human test subjects to prove the process worked for Humanity as well as all the other species the Intergalactic Community claimed it worked for. Angela rather suspected no one wanted to put their career and credibility on the line, and she couldn’t blame them. It sounded so fantastical - being able to find your perfect partner just by testing your DNA.
And yet, here she was, arriving outside Randar’s office with definite butterflies in her stomach at the thought of spending time with him.
I hope you have a nice date, Trix said, before zipping back the way they’d come, leaving Angela on her own.
It was a few minutes before twelve. Angela ran her fingers through her hair, hoping it wasn’t all wild after her rush to get ready. She tugged at the hem of her dress, making sure it hadn’t ridden up too high, revealing more of her thighs than she wanted it to. She would never have elegant, dainty legs, but with the right clothes she could disguise the worst of it.
She’d been waiting only a couple of minutes when the door opened and a man who definitely wasn’t Randar stepped out.
“Oh, hello,” he said, and Angela could tell from the way his lips moved in time with his words that he was actually speaking English.
“Hi,” Angela said. He looked vaguely familiar, but then she figured the only Humans who would be up here were going to be important types. The sort of people she’d probably seen on the news.
He shut the door behind him. Angela caught a glimpse of Randar talking to someone else inside before it slid completely closed.
“You look Human,” he said.
“I am.”
“Thought so - which delegation are you from? You’re not one of mine.” He looked her up and down as he said it, smiling in a way that made Angela uncomfortable.
“Oh, I’m not part of a delegation,” she said.
The man raised his eyebrows and Angela remembered who he was - Andrew Carter the Secretary of something or other. Angela’s knowledge of politics was limited at best, but she remembered seeing him on television a few times.
“Then you must have been Matched to someone. That’s the only other reason I could think you’d be up here,” he said. He glanced back at the door, then turned back to her in horror. “Not that great brute? Well…” he looked her up and down again. “I suppose Human guys must find you a little intimidating.”
He grinned like this was hilarious, then stepped forwards, putting a hand on her arm.
“Not all of us think that way, you know,” he said, giving her arm a little squeeze. “I like a big girl.”
Angela could see the wedding ring on his hand.
“I’m waiting to meet my Match,” she said.
“Sure, sure,” Andrew Carter said, as if no one had the power to resist him and it was only a matter of time. “Very brave, signing up for the program. Or desperate, I suppose.”
He laughed to himself again, then started down the corridor, whistling.
The butterflies in Angela’s stomach had been replaced with lead. Even Randar’s smile when he opened the door to see her there didn’t give any life back to them.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said, stepping out into the corridor.
Another Human man walked behind him, thin and older, perhaps in his sixties, with the sort of school teacher face that inspired fear in small children. He looked up and down the corridors, confusion in his eyes.
“I’m very sorry, Mr Cresli,” he said, “I get so turned around up here. Which way is it to the restaurant?”
Randar glanced at Angela, then back to the man.
“That’s where we’re heading if you’d like to follow us,” he said after a moment.
He shot Angela an apologetic look, but she was glad. It gave her a minute to try to shake the feeling of Andrew Carter’s hand on her arm.
The restaurant wasn’t large and had been decorated in a very Human style. That, or restaurants across the galaxy were similar to Human ones. Randar shook hands with the older man, who saw whoever he was meeting on the other side of the restaurant and headed to them.
“Sorry about that,” Randar said. “I promise I’m all yours now.”
He gestured to a table in the back corner of the restaurant, putting a hand to her arm to direct her. Right where Andrew Carter had touched her. Angela tried not to wince.
Very brave signing up for the program. Or desperate, I suppose.
A waitress who could have been the same species as Joraczic came over with menus and took their drinks order. It was lunchtime, so Randar didn’t order alcohol, and Angela followed his lead, even though a glass of wine might have settled her stomach some.
“You won’t know what a lot of this is,” Randar said, as he read the menu. “I know they have some Human dishes, but if you wanted to be adventurous, I’d recommend the Brettic Steak.”
“You can pick for me,” she said, which seemed to please him.
“How hungry are you?”
She hadn’t had breakfast, she should have been starving.
I like a big girl.
“Not that hungry,” she said, wondering if she should ask him to get her a salad. “Just something light.”
“Maybe not steak then,” Randar said, grinning. The scales on his face were glowing a deep green colour. She wondered if that meant he felt ill, that the smiles he was giving her were all fake.
Desperate.
Desperate.
Desperate.
He’d seemed so genuinely pleased about her cooking yesterday, but then, any person could get excited about food. It didn’t mean they liked the cook. He’d asked her on this date, but how much of that was because he felt he had to? The Intergalactic Community put so much stock in the Match program. He’d keep trying even if he was disappointed. She was probably just seeing what she wanted to when she thought he’d been happy at the thought of having lunch with her.
The waitress came back over and Randar ordered for her.
“It’s a vegetable dish,” he said as the waitress took their menus.
Because she shouldn’t be eating too much.
“There’s a small greenhouse here where we grow vegetables, so it will all be fresh rather than frozen supplies,” Randar said. “Some races are far too keen carnivores to appreciate the vegetable dishes, but I think they’re the nicest on the menu. Can’t beat fresh produce.”
“I don’t mind vegetarian food,” Angela said, taking a sip of her drink - a syrupy fruit juice sweet enough to make her teeth ache.
“Too much?” Randar said, correctly interpreting her expression.
“It’s very sweet,” she said.
Without a word, he swapped his drink for hers. “Try mine. It’s still sweet, but not quite as overpowering as flaritti berry.”
She took a sip of his green drink. It was far less cloying, a hint of sharpness cutting through the sweet.
“You have that one,” Randar said.
“You don’t mind?” she said.
“I like this,” he said, raising her glass and taking a swig. He smiled at her as he put the glass down. “It will be an adventure for you, learning all our food. Perhaps we can go down to Earth one day, and you can take me to try some of your food.”
“Do you get days off bodyguard duty?”
“Not often enough,” Randar said, but his eyes were on something over her shoulder.
“I’ll have you know your employment package is better than Galactic standards for a position of your rank,” a new voice said, and Angela turned to see the blue haired prince grinning at Randar.
He was every bit as pretty in real life as he was on the television. Angela could just imagine her friends swooning at the sight of him in his slightly strange, but obviously expensive clothes, his hair slicked back, smiling his toothpaste advert perfect smile.
“Forgive me the interruption,” he said, eyes on Angela now. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“I know who you are,” Angela said, feeling stupid the moment the words left her lips.
Prince Cael’s smile didn’t falter. “And I know who you are, but it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance in the flesh, Angela.”
He held out a hand and she took it. His grip was firm, his hand warm, and Angela felt nothing. No revulsion like she had for Andrew Carter, but no spark of attraction either.
If he doesn’t make your ovaries do a little dance, you aren’t going to be Matched with him.
Definitely no ovary dancing. And no spark of electricity like when she’d taken Randar’s hand.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, glancing to Randar, hoping he’d give her a nudge with what appropriate protocol was. Angela had never met anyone royal before.
Randar was just leaning back in his seat, utterly relaxed. He had a smile on his face that seemed almost… possessive. A little bit smug. The thought that his look was because of her did make her ovaries twitch just a little.
“Enjoy your meal,” Prince Cael said. “I look forwards to getting to know you better soon.”
Those words on Andrew Carter’s lips would have had Angela shrivelling, but Prince Cael said it with a warmth that felt genuine.
“I hope I didn’t say anything wrong then,” Angela said, looking to Randar.
He shook his head. “Cael isn’t one for ceremony or proper address. You don’t have to worry about any of that around him.”
“Good,” Angela said with a sigh of relief. “I’d hate to embarrass you in front of your boss.”
“You won’t worry about that once you’ve spent any length of time with him,” Randar said with a laugh.
Their food arrived, Angela’s an elaborate bowl of vegetables in a sauce. So many colours mixed together - it looked delicious. Randar had a vegetable dish, too, but a different one. His had some sort of gourd at the centre, stuffed with other vegetables, the stuffing mix flowing down the side like a volcano.
“These look incredible,” Angela said.
“This restaurant is here to impress important visitors,” Randar said. “The food’s a bit on the fancy side, but it’s good. You can try some of this as well if you like. Or try both and let me know which you want.”
“I don’t think I’d even know where to start with that,” she said, gesturing to his meal.
Angela felt herself starting to relax some as she took her first bites of her meal. A range of flavours burst on her tongue, slightly spicy, a mix of sweeter root vegetables and more tangy beans carrying the rich sauce perfectly. Randar scooped some of the stuffing from his and held his fork out to her. Angela took it, the grains and vegetables sweet and creamy on her tongue.
“You have a sweet tooth,” she said.
“Not always, but sometimes I get a craving. Are you a fan of desserts? They do some amazing ones in here. Next time we’ll come for dinner and have a full meal. And wine.”
“I definitely like wine,” Angela said.
Randar grinned.
As they ate, Angela noticed a lot of the staff and other diners were glancing over at their table. At first, she didn’t think much of it, but as the meal went on and interest in them continued, she felt an itching discomfort at the back of her neck. She tried to shift in her seat so she was less visible, looking at the large amount of food still left in her bowl. She could easily finish it, her stomach remembering its hunger now, but should she leave some? Would it look bad if she stuffed her face?
Randar watched her a moment, eyes going from the people in the restaurant to her.
“Don’t pay them any mind,” he said. “They’re just curious. You’re the fir
st Human to be Matched with someone. You’re a bit of a novelty round here.”
“Am I really that interesting?” she said.
Randar gave her a soft sort of look. “Most of the people staffing this mission aren’t Matched. They’re hoping you’re the first of many Humans to sign up for the program, that one of those Humans will be their match.”
Angela glanced round at the faces, recognising that sort of wistful hope in some of them. The sight of it filled her stomach with lead again.
Of course Randar was possessive of her. He had something that everyone else wanted. It wouldn’t have mattered who she was.
Desperate.
Desperate.
Desperate.
Andrew Carter’s words rang in her ear again and she felt the phantom echo of his grip on her arm.
Randar walked her back to his apartment, but had to rush back to work. Angela sat in the living area alone, wondering what to do with herself until he got home. If she didn’t do something, she would only dwell on Andrew Carter’s words. She hadn’t been able to finish her meal, the taste turned to ash in her mouth. Randar had assumed she was full, and she let him think it.
‘Trix,” she called. “Can you find me a Human movie to watch?”
Yes, Angela, the AI responded.
She watched the movie, slouching on the sofa, wishing for the first time that she was back in her own apartment, preferably with ice cream she could eat from a tub with a spoon.
“Does Randar have any ice cream, Trix?” she asked.
I don’t know what this ‘ice cream’ is, Angela. Would you like to take a look in the kitchen for something to eat?
Typical.
The time ticked past, Angela moving on from the film to re-runs of an old TV show she liked. The familiar beats of the humour took her mind off things. Shortly before Randar was due back, the show vanished, replaced by a screen that said ‘incoming call’.
“Um, answer?” Angela said, looking round for some sort of remote.
Randar (Intergalactic Soulmates Book 1) Page 6
