Forbidden Alien Prince: Celestial Mates (The Alva)

by Miranda Martin

  I know I'm staring, but I can't help it. There is something more than just unusual about her, but I can't put my finger on it. She smiles gently, like she knows what I'm thinking. That rubs me the wrong way.

  "Why don't you follow me back to my office? We can get started right away," she says in that arresting voice.

  "Yeah, sure," I say, getting myself together.

  I follow her slim, swaying figure down the wide hallway.

  There are multiple doors on either side, but they're all closed except for the one toward the end she leads us through. She gestures for me to take a seat in one of the cushioned chairs set across the desk from hers. I take it and scan the office. There are few machines I'm not familiar with, but I'm not the best with technology. Otherwise, it looks like a typical office.

  "So, Clara. What do you know about Celestial Mates? Can I ask how you heard about us?" she asks, her voice polite as she folds her long fingered hands on the desk in front of her.

  My eyes follow the motion. The way she moves is almost as captivating as her voice. There's an ethereal quality to it.

  "Nothing really. I know you're a dating agency, I think? A friend referred me but she wasn't forthcoming with details."

  "I see," she says with a nod. "Well, we're more than what you would expect from a dating agency. But we do exactly what we advertise we do."

  "Bring love across time and space?" I ask, my skepticism on full display.

  She smiles like nothing phases her. It would drive me crazy if I was around her for long.

  "Exactly. We find you a match that will last. And we don't do it based on the time consuming and faulty idea that you need to meet enough potentials to find someone with who you could be a match. We operate much more precisely than that, using science and technology, coupled with traditional matchmaking methods. We have over a ninety percent success rate," she boasts, pride in her voice.

  Either she believes in this stuff, or she's fantastic at selling it. Or both. Okay, my curiosity is piqued, I'll bite. If there's a scam here, I have to play along to find it.

  "Okay. How do we start?"

  "Do you know what you are getting into? When we say across time and space, we mean it," she smiles.

  "Right. Got it," I say, my words dripping with sarcasm.

  She stares, her face serious and I might have finally cracked her composure. "Very well," she relents. "Let us begin the process."

  She starts with asking me a bunch of questions that I answer off the top of my head. I'm convinced this is a scam for desperate people and I don't appreciate anyone who preys on the desperate. Maybe I'm too near to being in that category myself, but it raises my righteous indignation. Besides, I've always had a strong sense of right and wrong. It's part of what drove me to be a police officer.

  "Now we must do the blood test and body scan."

  Okay, here it comes. Maybe they will drug me and try to take my organs? Or have me strip so they can get some naked photos, though I don't know why they would go through all this trouble for that.

  "If you will please step over here for the scan. This is just to get a three-dimensional image of you and ensure that you are in good physical health."

  I stare at the small glass enclosed corner and give a mental shrug for the hundredth time. Let's see what happens. I step inside and she has me face the front. A black bar lowers from the ceiling and blue light travels down my body in a horizontal line, ostensibly to scan me. They are going to great lengths to sell this thing.

  "Now, please turnaround," she directs.

  I turn around and the same thing happens again.

  "Now, for the blood test." She brings out a small, white handheld device. "Your arm, please."

  I extend my arm, giving her a stare down.

  "If anything happens, the full force of the police will come down on your head," I murmur. "Just a warning."

  "It is a blood sample," she assures me, her expression attempting not to roll her eyes.

  "Sure. I didn't want you to do anything without thinking things through."

  Her lips tighten as she pushes the point into the crook of my elbow. There’s a slight sting, but nothing major. I bet she wishes she could jam something much bigger into me, judging by her now obvious irritation. Whether there is a drug, or it’s just taking a blood sample, I guess I'll have to wait and see.

  "I'm assuming your preference would be humanoid?" she asks, settling behind her computer.

  "Yes, please. I don't want to wonder what goes where." I say with a straight face.

  She narrows her eyes at me and I keep my face blandly innocent.

  "Hmm."

  She asks a bunch more questions, mostly a typical dating questionnaire.

  But then she asks what I would prefer in penis size.

  "Absolutely enormous, I really wanna feel it, you know?" I explain, tongue in cheek.

  She smiles at me politely, but she's gritting her teeth.

  Goading her shouldn't be as satisfying as it is.

  "What are the most important characteristics in a mate for you?" she continues, ever the professional.

  "Intelligence. Kindness. Brave. A keen sense of justice."

  Hey, on the off chance that this is true, I want what I want. That I'm even entertaining the possibility that this could be legitimate lets me know I am very near to going off the deep end.

  Hello desperation.

  "Perfect," she murmurs herself. She types something else into her computer.

  I watch as her face goes slack in shock. She looks up at me with narrowed eyes, her lips pressed together.

  "Is something wrong?" I prod.

  "No," she grates out. "You have a match. Actually, you have two matches. But in this case, you will match with the Prince from a Major House as they get preference."

  "A Prince, huh?" I mock, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

  "Yes. You seem to be a match for the Prince of House Lo'ara as well, but we will match you with Prince Rathorin of House Ti'ana. Would you like to see his file?"

  There’s a gleam of anticipation in her eyes.

  "Sure. Lay it on me."

  She pushes a button and a hologram appears, a crystal clear and completely three dimensional image.

  "Holy shit," I murmur as I stare at the figure that just snapped into existence.

  Seven feet tall, muscled, with dark blue skin and long purple hair. A sharp face with pointed ears and, oh yeah, fangs. Why does that make me shiver?

  "He is rather impressive, isn't he?" the rep needles me.

  "That is not a human," I say, stating the obvious.

  "No, indeed not. That is an Alvan," she responds, relishing my flummoxed response. "We will need an answer soon, Clara. Would you like to accept the match?"

  I tear my eyes away to look at her and she raises a brow with a smirk on her face. No way this is real. I look back at the image, doubt creeping in.

  Right?

  Chapter Four

  Drevakin

  The dark tunnel we travel through is lit by the soft glow of sieni, a luminous moss cultivated for light, and the only break in the silence is the juntta with its hard carapace and dozens of legs clicking as it pulls.

  It takes longer than usual to reach the Rakennus because of the extra load, I don't want to exhaust the juntta, so I don't push it. I didn’t plan for passengers or I would have used more than one. When we arrive, I'll have the stable master allow it to rest and feed it more than its usual amount. The creature has done well getting my people and I home.

  Eventually we emerge from the tunnel. Between the natural walls of the massive cavern and the Alvan made border wall of my Rakennus, the ground is flat and smooth. Brilliant white lights, powered by the core-well, flood the open space, banishing even the slightest of shadows. The maan'alla, our word for the underground, is full of dangerous creatures the light keeps at bay.

  We pass through the open gates to the village marketplace just inside, situated so the most traffic possible
will pass through. It's a busy time of day. The people out and about greet us, but I notice a lot of frowns. I'm sure they're wondering why I have others in my carriage. I don't bother addressing the issue, knowing as soon as everyone in the carriage departs to their respective homes, the news of what occurred will spread quickly. It's most likely for the best. Everyone must be vigilant about their safety.

  I don't stop the carriage in the village, but rather drive it all the way to the courtyard in front of my House Mansion. I want to take care of replacing what my people lost first. Coming to a stop, I bound down.

  "Please, tell my stable master how many carriages you have lost and make a note of all the possessions that were stolen. I will replace everything once I receive the list."

  "Thank you, my Prince," they murmur, almost in unison.

  I give them a nod. In truth, I'm only fulfilling my duty to protect and care for my people.

  "I will go to House Ti'ana and speak with Prince Rathorin about this matter." Their faces show fear and trepidation. They know the dangers of House politics. "But, as you know, that doesn't guarantee your safety. Please, take extra precautions."

  "Yes, my Prince," the older man and leader of the group agrees.

  "Good," I say, then turn to the stable master. "I need a fresh juntta, this one has worked hard enough. I'm going to House Ti'ana now."

  This is not something I intend to put off.

  "Of course, sire," he says, holding up a hand and motioning at the three stable boys watching from around the corner.

  "Also, be sure to allow this juntta an extended rest and extra food. He did the work of two today," I add.

  "Yes, sire," he calls over his shoulder as he enters the stables.

  He and his crew of boys hook a fresh juntta to the carriage in short order and I leave House Lo'ara once more. Instead of hope in my heart, a fire burns in my belly.

  The journey still takes time, even with the swiftness of a fresh juntta coupled with the lighter load of a single passenger. It would be an arduous walk after a hard day of work. One forced on my people. The thought of it makes my mood ever grimmer.

  When I reach House Ti'ana, I keep my heavy leathers and fur lined cloak on. It's sweltering, but I don't want to blend in with the scantily clad population here. I want to stand out as exactly what I am.

  A Prince of a Minor House.

  The tunnel I pass through isn't gray and utilitarian as a Minor House's would be, but rather lined with colorful stones and painted with geometric designs. It's pretty enough, I suppose, but there's a frivolousness to it that offends my sensibility.

  The tan stone border wall of House Ti’ana with its brightly painted gates comes into view as I emerge. Brilliant, near blinding light illuminates the area and sparkles on the light stone. I would not have used the rarer brown masonry to construct the wall. The gray used by my House is stronger and more plentiful, but Major Houses love showing off their fancy finery.

  Entering the marketplace, I'm greeted with curious looks from some, curled lips from others, and expressions of disgust as I push through the crowd. The lighter, colorful fabrics used in their clothing is almost jarring after the more sedate grays, whites, and browns that predominate the wardrobes of Minor House peoples. I'm also not accustomed to so much skin showing. Arms, legs, chests- some of these people may as well wear nothing.

  The marketplace itself is bigger, with more variety and frivolity on display. The scents of different cuisines meld with perfumes to create a very distinctive scent. It is not unpleasant, but it is exotic. It’s loud too, like the favored clothing styles.

  As I make my way through the crowded marketplace, I catch sight of a stall selling merchandise similar to that of my people. Their gloves and capes are pretty and flimsy but not functional or warm. It is a mistake commonly made by people from the Major Houses when they attempt to create clothing for the cold.

  I understand. Just as we are experts in warm clothing, they are the experts for cool clothing meant for the greater warmth nearer the core-well, the source of energy for our light and heat. What I don't understand is their arrogance in refusing to learn how to design such articles from people who know. Or at least only selling wares they know something about.

  No one is at the stall, which is good. If they were there, I'd have to resist the urge to confront them directly. It's most likely for the best. No good would come of such an interaction. When I reach the courtyard in front of House Ti'ana's Mansion, sweat is sliding down my chest and back. I concede to slide my cloak off now that I have reached my destination.

  Stepping down from the carriage, I stride to the ornate front entry, a wild combination of colors that is truly garish. As I reach for the knocker, the door swings open and an out of breath servant is there panting.

  "May I help you with something?" he asks, his eyes disdainful as he looks over my clothing.

  "Yes. I need to speak with Prince Rathorin. Let him know Prince Drevakin is here on an urgent matter."

  "Very well, but Prince Rathorin has many duties to see to today. Perhaps it would be wiser to schedule a meeting in the proper manner?" the servant replies.

  "I believe it would be wiser of him to come speak to me, now," I return, struggling to remain polite, though I know my expression is not polite at all. "Please let him know it is a matter of some urgency. Regarding his own people's behavior."

  The servant stands even straighter, tilting his head back to look down his nose at me, even though he must be a full foot shorter. Someone should let him know the action looks downright ridiculous. If he didn't stand between me and my goal, I would do him the courtesy.

  He doesn't invite me in, instead he nods and shuts the door in my face. Well, we'll see about this. I turn and walk back to my carriage to sit and wait.

  And wait more.

  I wait for an inordinately long time before the servant comes out of the House Mansion and saunters over with a haughty air. More than a few people have come and gone, all of them entering without delay, barely taking time to glance in my direction. All of them from Major Houses, ascertained from their clothing and haughty looks.

  "Prince Rathorin says he cannot see you at the moment," the servant says with a thin smile, enjoying imparting the news. "Could I schedule you an appointment?"

  I stifle the urge to punch his smug face but one good blow would probably kill the silly little twit and cause me no end of trouble. I might as well declare war. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I let it out in a long sigh.

  "Fine. When is the next available appointment?" I ask, gritting my teeth.

  He says a date more than a cycle later. The urge to strangle his skinny neck curls my hands into tight balls.

  "I cannot wait that long. This is an urgent matter, as I have said, more than once," I growl.

  "I'm afraid many matters that reach Prince Rathorin are urgent," the servant says with a smirk. "This will need to wait like all the rest."

  I stare him down and doubt seeps into the small man’s eyes. Perhaps he realizes our size difference. Or that nobody is nearby to help him. I let that thought settle, even though I have no intention of harming him. Infuriating as he is, he's not the real problem.

  "Fine," I spit.

  Relief is clear on his face as I step back, though he covers it by throwing back his bony shoulders. I click the juntta into motion without another word.

  As I leave the courtyard and pass through the marketplace with its frivolous offerings and people inflated with their own sense of importance, my mind turns back to the possibility of finding a Pari through Celestial Mates.

  What if I am matched?

  My people are no safer now than when I came here to speak to Prince Rathorin. And it doesn't appear as if that state of events will change any time in the immediate future. My mind turns over the problem again, and again I come to the hard conclusion that it would not be right of me to bring a female to a House I cannot protect.

  Frustration, anger, and anguish all curdl
e in my belly as I leave House Ti'ana, having accomplished nothing.

  Chapter Five

  Clara

  Taking a deep breath, I wipe my hands on my jeans as butterflies dance in my stomach. This might be the stupidest thing I've ever done.

  "All right Clara," the Celestial Mates representative says. "Just step on to this platform and then you'll be on your way."

  Swallowing hard, I step on the small, dull gray metallic platform. It's set up in a different room than the one I was in for my interview. After the initial shock of the last time I was here, I asked for a few weeks to consider what I wanted to do. I also asked for some information about Alvan culture, figuring I may as well read up if I have the time. They gave me a while to mull it over, though the rep emphasized the need for a quick answer.

  She wanted one by the next day, but when I was firm that I would need more time, she gave in. Not gracefully, but she did. It still sounds insane, and I'm skeptical that it's true, but it’s also a lot of effort to go through to fool someone.

  The first thing I did after leaving the office building was call Stella. The surprise in her voice was obvious.

  "You already matched? And to two Princes?" she'd gasped. "I'm so jealous!"

  I'd aired my concerns about the whole thing being legitimate. Once I was out of the office, it had seemed more and more far-fetched, until I didn't know what convinced me that this could be true. But Stella egged me on, told me I should at least follow through to find out if it was a scam. Then I could blow the whistle on it.

  She was right. So I’ve spent the entire time since then reading up on the culture and trying to learn as much of the language as I can. I've always had a knack for language, but Alvan is a whole different animal. There isn't any other language I can compare it to. Which I guess makes sense if it really is an alien tongue.