Shadow: Alien Castaways 4 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Cara Bristol

  They chatted for a while longer, and then Geneva announced she’d better get a move on and let Mandy get back to business. Geneva asked for her email, and then said, “I’ll send you some questions. The next bulletin won’t go out for another month, so you have three weeks to send me the answers,” she said as Mandy escorted her to the door.

  “Thank you.” Mandy eyed the vacant, dark street. Night had fallen while they’d been talking. “Did you walk? I’ll drive you home.”

  Geneva waved. “This is Argent. There isn’t a safer place in all of Idaho.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. It was so nice meeting you.”

  “Same here.” Geneva lit up with another smile.

  Mandy locked up behind her. Despite the fact they were polar opposites in outlook and beliefs, they’d had a nice chat. However, now she was running late and had no time to grab a bite to eat before Shadow arrived. She barely had time to run a brush through her hair.

  Despite the assurance that Argent was the safest place on Earth, she stowed the day’s receipts in the hidden safe and then dashed up to her apartment. A quick freshen-up turned into a shower, a makeup redo, and three outfit changes before she settled on a turquoise, blue, and green broomstick skirt and long-sleeve silk tunic. She accessorized with a beaded necklace and dangle earrings in the same hues as the skirt.

  You’re pathetic, she chided as she checked herself in the mirror. He’ll drop off the talisman, be here for two minutes tops, and then leave. He’s someone you’re trying to help, not date. He’s not interested in you. Remember the law of noninterference? Remember he’s leaving in two weeks?

  Her body remained unconvinced. When she dashed downstairs and found Shadow peering into the shop, her pulse rate shot up, and her stomach fluttered. She ushered him in. “Sorry, so sorry,” she apologized and slammed the door against the blast of frigid air. March days were cold enough in the Idaho panhandle, but as soon as night fell, temperatures really plummeted.

  “I was afraid maybe I’d missed you.” His accented baritone further heated her libido.

  “No, I had to uh, run upstairs for a sec.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and then untucked it, at a loss of what to do with her hands all of a sudden. She’d hoped her memory had been faulty, that he hadn’t been as hot as she remembered, but he was more attractive.

  “Okay if I remove my coat?”

  “Of course. Here, I’ll take it.”

  He handed over his black parka, and she hung it on a coat rack she’d purchased at the antique store. She’d discovered most businesses in cold climes had them. If you wanted customers to stick around, you needed to make them comfortable.

  Shadow wore brown mid-calf leather boots, jeans, and a long-sleeve tan shirt. Under the cuff, she spied a heavy wristwatch. The unbuttoned shirt collar showed off his bronzed throat and the rose quartz.

  “You’re wearing the pendant,” she commented.

  “Yes. Anything to increase the odds of finding my genmate,” he said. “Tigre loved his pendant, and Inferno wears his all the time.”

  “Good! They need to be worn to be effective.” She recalled Geneva’s purchase of the desk version and hoped she put it in a prominent place. “I, uh, met Inferno’s uh, genmate today.”

  “You did?”

  “She left a little while ago.”

  “What did she say about Inferno, about their meeting?”

  “Nothing—only that she didn’t believe there were aliens in Argent.”

  He nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. Many humans still doubt, but it’s not entirely their fault. We kept a low profile until we got a sense of how we’d be received. Only recently have we started to come out. Inferno and Tigre are the last ones to do so.”

  That made sense, then.

  He arched his eyebrows expectantly.

  She wished she had good news to deliver, but she’d drawn a complete blank. “I meditated quite a bit over the weekend,” she said to let him know she had been working on it. “Unfortunately, I didn’t pick up any clues about the identity or location of your genmate—but it’s still early yet—and I didn’t have your talisman.”

  He sighed. “I figured you hadn’t seen anything, or you would have told me right off.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then slipped off his wristwatch and handed it to her. “My personal item.”

  A sizzle shot up her arm as their fingers brushed. “Thank you. This will help bridge the gap between you, me, and the spirit guides.” The watch didn’t resemble any timepiece she’d ever seen. It had too many gauges, its readings in unfamiliar symbols. Even the metal seemed alien, its golden-silvery tone shifting from matte to shiny.

  “What is it?” she asked him as she held the object carefully and sent out a request for insight. Open my eyes. Please show me what I am supposed to see.

  Nothing came to her, and she expelled a silent sigh mixed with frustration and relief. She wished to find him a match and send him on his way—but a sharp pang jabbed at her when she thought about never seeing him again. The strength of her attraction was crazy and so unlike her. She didn’t chase the unattainable. Finding out a man was unavailable normally killed her interest.

  “It’s a chronometer,” he explained. “My father gave it to me on the day of my seeking, the age at which Vaporians mature and search for their genmates.”

  Very special, then. “I promise to take good care of it, and I’ll keep it with me as much as I can to increase the chances of seeing something. I can’t predict what will come to me and when.” She slipped it on, and the heavy band automatically tightened to fit her wrist. There was something intimate about wearing his timepiece, still warm from his body and that obviously meant so much to him.

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, her nerves buzzing with awareness.

  They stared at each other in uncomfortable silence. Or perhaps she was the only one who felt awkward, confused—aroused. Her skin tingled, her breasts ached, and while the shop smelled like aromatherapy products, it was his masculine, exotic musk she noticed. If I could bottle that, I’d sell gallons. No, she wouldn’t. She’d keep it for herself.

  “Um.” She rubbed her hands together, his chronometer heavy on her wrist.

  “I enjoyed the tea,” he said. “I’ve developed a bit of a craving for it. It’s almost all gone.”

  “Really? I’m glad to hear that.” She hadn’t been sure if he liked it or not. “I’ll get you some more.”

  “Oh, no, I wasn’t implying—”

  “Don’t be silly.” Grateful for something to do, she whirled around to the tea service area and spooned heaps of leaves and powders into a plastic bag, working from memory to recreate the blend she’d given him before. “Since you’re drinking it regularly, I’ll add a metal tea ball, too. Use it like you do the tea bags, and then rinse it out.”

  “I’m not completely familiar with commerce on your planet, but aren’t you supposed to sell your products instead of giving them away? Let me pay you for it.”

  She waved aside the offer. “It’s just a little tea.” She flashed a cheeky grin. “Besides, I had a fantastic opening day.”

  “I see that.” He surveyed the store. “The shelves look a little sparser.”

  She nodded. “I need to restock. Kevanne Girardi’s lavender sold well, too.” It had been a smart move to carry the local product. Lavender sachets, potpourris, and lotions meshed well with her brand, and she liked supporting other small businesses. Besides, if not for Kevanne, she wouldn’t have met Shadow.

  As she handed him the package, her stomach emitted an embarrassing growl. “Sorry.” She scrunched her face and pressed a hand to her abdomen. “It’s been a while since lunch.” And the quick meal had consisted of a tiny carton of yogurt and an apple gobbled between customers.

  “I haven’t eaten yet. Maybe you’d like to grab a pizza at the Whitetail? It’s pretty good
.”

  “Yours is the second recommendation I’ve heard for their pizza. Yes, I’d like that. Let me get my purse.” She dashed upstairs, grabbed her handbag, donned her parka, and browbeat her inner nag into silence when it warned getting too close to him flirted with trouble. The better she got to know his personality and habits, the more likely she could help him, she argued with herself. Sure, some readings occurred instantaneously like with Inferno, but often several encounters were required.

  Besides, what if he could grow to like her, too? Maybe he did a little already. He’d invited her out to eat.

  She locked the store behind them, and they crossed the street and headed for the Whitetail, identifiable by its big sign sporting a picture of a deer with a huge antler rack—and the cars parked at the curb.

  “Glad it’s not far.” She shivered and burrowed into her parka. The down-filled jacket kept her torso warm, but icy air swirled under her skirt to chill her legs. Her feet in kitten heels were cold, too. Had she known she’d be leaving the shop, she would have worn pants, wool socks, and boots. This is what I get for dressing like I was going on a date.

  She shoved her hands into her pockets and reminded herself this was a case. Going out for pizza had been a bad idea.

  “Cold?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “How’s that? Better?”

  She stopped breathing. Her heart ceased pumping as she focused on the soft pressure of his arm, his hard body against her side, the muscle evident despite their winter jackets. “Better,” she squeaked.

  Heat suffused her from head to toe. What did the gesture mean? Was he merely being chivalrous? A gentleman might give his jacket to a woman, but he wouldn’t hug her in such a familiar manner unless he liked her.

  Except Shadow was an alien, unfamiliar with Earth culture and human behavior. Maybe in their culture, ’Topians huddled together for warmth. “Was it cold on your planet?” she asked.

  “No, our climate was temperate. I confess, your winter comes as a shock.”

  “It’s warmer in other parts of the world,” she explained. “Some countries, states never get cold.”

  They arrived at the Whitetail, its entrance lit up by spotlights. “I’ll get the door,” he said.

  The pressure against her back and shoulder disappeared as he released her. She moved out of the way as he reached around her.

  She gasped in horror. “Oh my goddess! Your arm! What happened to you?” His right arm—the one that had been around her—and his shoulder were gone! Vanished. Like a magician waving to demonstrate the box was empty, she passed her hand through air where his limb had been. No trick—his arm had disappeared into a cloud of fog.

  Her gaze flew to his face. Pain flashed in his eyes before he squeezed them shut and grimaced. As she gawked, his missing body parts grew back, filling in at the shoulder, then the arm, wrist, hand, and finally fingers.

  He opened his eyes, and the despair in their depths tore at her heart. “This is why I need a genmate.”

  She opened and closed her mouth, unable to grasp what she’d seen. “I don’t understand…”

  “Let’s go inside. I’ll explain.” He pulled the door open with the hand that only moments ago hadn’t been there.

  Chapter Eight

  Herian!

  Focused on Mandy, the buoyant, tingling feeling of being with her, he’d missed the sublimation signs. Thankfully, he’d pulled himself together. But how many episodes could he endure before he faced the final one?

  She continued to eye him with shock and concern, and he averted his gaze as he hung their coats on the row of hooks. Blaring music competed with TV ball games and the crack of pool balls. He and his brothers had been to the Whitetail many times to watch Wingman shoot pool, using a wingtip as a cue stick. Delia worked at the Whitetail, but she was off tonight.

  A few locals waved, and he returned the salute as he wended to a less-trafficked corner where they could talk without being disturbed. “Are you all right?” he asked as soon as they sat. She still looked shell-shocked.

  “Are you all right?”

  “For the time being, yes. Long term…no,” he answered honestly.

  Her eyes glistened with tears, and her face slackened with sadness.

  A waitress bustled over and slapped down a couple of cocktail napkins. “Just drinks? Or do you want to order food? We have two pizza specials tonight, venison sausage and veggie supreme.”

  He’d lost his appetite. Mandy bowed her head and toyed with her napkin, seeming uninterested in food, either, but he remembered how her stomach had growled. She needed to eat. He glanced at her and made a decision. “Veggie supreme, please,” he told the server.

  “To drink?”

  “House red wine,” Mandy spoke up.

  “I’ll have an Elk Spit,” he named a local microbrew.

  The waitress left, and Shadow said, “I’ll wait until she brings the drinks before I explain so we don’t get interrupted.”

  She nodded in agreement but then asked, “Does it hurt when that happens?”

  He shook his head. “It tingles, like pins and needles, but it’s not painful.” The pain came from the knowledge his days were numbered.

  After drinks arrived, he fortified himself with a gulp and said, “What happens to me is known as involuntary sublimation—my body goes directly from solid to gas.”

  “Isn’t that what dry ice does? It goes from a block to vapor?”

  “Exactly like that. Vaporians can control their state of being. We can take bodily form or vapor.”

  “But when you turn to vapor, how do you get all those molecules to come together again?”

  “That’s the problem. Upon reaching maturity, if we aren’t bonded, we lose control over sublimation and it occurs spontaneously, becoming harder and harder to depose back to solid. Eventually, we can’t pull it together, our molecules drift away, and we cease to exist. I’m almost at that point. I don’t have much time left.”

  “That’s awful!” Tears trickled from her eyes. “But finding a genmate stops that?”

  “Yes. Upon mating, involuntary sublimation ceases, and we regain control.”

  She blinked and covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s why you’re leaving Earth—to find a genmate so you won’t die.”

  He nodded. “The few Vaporians here have mated or died. None of the other ’Topians are a match nor are any of the human women I’ve met.”

  “How can you be sure you haven’t met a compatible woman?”

  “Remember when Inferno met Geneva, and his throat swelled up?”

  “He looked like he had mumps.”

  “We have mating glands.” He touched the underside of his jaw. “When we encounter our genmates, our bodies recognize her, and the glands react.”

  “It always happens?”

  “Always. With all ’Topians, except Veritals.”

  She lifted her wineglass to her lips. “If you already know no one on Earth is your match, why ask me to look for her? I can’t find what doesn’t exist.”

  “A Vaporian offers my best chance for a match, followed by a ’Topian of a different race, and lastly a human, so, in all honesty, it is highly unlikely you will find her. However, it’s not impossible, because obviously, I haven’t met every single Earth woman, and since I can’t leave until Edwin Mysk has the ship ready, I should use the time to continue the search.

  “Besides, leaving Earth is a long shot, too,” he added. “There aren’t many ’Topians—and even fewer Vaporians. Locating them won’t be easy.”

  Her brows drew together. “Whoa, whoa…Edwin Mysk, the famous billionaire tech magnate, is giving you a ship?”

  “He’s from our planet. He arrived on Earth fifty years ago.”

  “I’ve heard you mention his name before, but I didn’t make the connection until now.Well, that explains a lot—all those futuristic inventions.” She shook her head then frowned again. “But how are humans even remotely compatible with your people?”

&
nbsp; The waitress appeared, and, with a flourish, deposited their pizza on the table and gave them each a small plate. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Shadow glanced at Mandy, and she shook her head. “We’re fine,” he replied.

  A tantalizing aroma wafted up from the pizza, and Mandy’s stomach growled. She was hungry, he noticed, and surprisingly, his own appetite had returned. They each took a piece.

  She folded hers in half lengthwise before taking a bite. “Mmm. This is good pizza.” She chewed and swallowed, took another bite, then dropped her slice on her plate.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. You’re dying, and I’m scarfing down pizza.” Her lips drooped in self-disgust, and she balled her hands.

  “No. Don’t feel that way. Please.” He squeezed her fist to comfort her but felt an instant zing of desire and yearning. If anyone should feel guilty, it was him. How could he have such a strong attraction to someone who wasn’t his genmate? It shouldn’t have been possible. Some men engaged in sexual relations before mating, but they were tepid, easily forgotten affairs.

  “You should enjoy eating a meal. We should embrace pleasure and joy where we find it,” he reassured her. He tapped his father’s chronometer on her wrist. “From the moment we’re born, time winds down. When it stops, it stops. Unlike most people from my devastated world, I got a second chance. A slim one, but it’s still a chance. The fact there is tragedy doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy something pleasurable. In fact, it means we need it all the more.”

  To encourage her, he resumed eating. Whitetail pizza was one of the simple pleasures he indulged in. He would miss it.

  “I’m afraid to ask…what happened to the people on your world?”

  “That’s a story for another day,” he said, reluctant to upset her further with any more unpleasantness. She was a compassionate person who cared about people—and stubborn, he noticed with amusement when she pressed her lips together mulishly.