Conan: Stargazer Alien Mail Order Brides #8 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Tasha Black

  “That was so cool,” he replied. “Can you show it to us again?”

  There were hoots of approval, but Brooke knew she couldn’t pull it off it again. She’d be lucky to be able to even move her arm without agonizing pain for the next few days.

  “Nope, you’re going to show it to me now,” she said brightly. “Partner up. I’ll come around and help you individually.”

  “Great job, Tex,” she said to the big guy as he headed back to find a partner.

  “Thanks,” he said, grinning. “That was pretty cool.”

  She watched as they attempted both the parry and the throw. It was incredible that they had all passed the same rigorous physical to get here, yet some were handling the moves well and others looked like they were doing ballet or trying to break into a snack machine.

  The afternoon passed quickly, except for the pain that still cut through her shoulder. These guys were a great group, better than last summer - less competitive, quicker to cheer for each other. It was a pleasure to work with them.

  When at last the group was dismissed, she headed straight to her office for Advil and an ice pack.

  “Excuse me, um, ma’am,” a male voice said.

  She turned to see Tex in the doorway.

  “A couple of us were going to go grab a drink,” he said. “Want to come with us?”

  The combination of his smoky gaze and his shy smile told her what he was really asking.

  Want to come with ME?

  “No, thanks,” she said. “You guys have fun and don’t do anything crazy.”

  “We’ll use our words,” he teased, looking disappointed, but not surprised. “See you tomorrow.”

  She gave him a little wave and headed back to the office.

  He was a cadet and she was an instructor, so she had to turn him down, of course. But if she was honest with herself she would have said no anyway.

  She wasn’t in a place where she wanted to be anyone’s significant other, wasn’t sure if she would ever want to be in that place.

  “God, yes,” she whispered as the ice dulled the agony of her shoulder to a low ache.

  So she was in a relationship with an ice pack - so what?

  3

  Conan

  Conan mopped the polished wood floor of the training area.

  Brooke had explained to him that the flooring was salvaged from a high school gym that was being renovated. She and her friends had rented a truck to bring the old boards here and install them with the help of a handyman.

  Conan liked to picture the three women arranging the boards and nailing them down. He was very sure they had enjoyed their shared project, as he and his brothers enjoyed sharing a task. Brooke and her friends were hard workers and they knew how to have fun. And despite what the song would have him believe, he had learned that was not all girls really wanted.

  The flooring still bore colorful tape markings from when it was a basketball court at the high school. The tape made it harder to mop but gave it a cheerful look. He liked cleaning it - the scent of the pine soap on the oak floor made him feel as if he were in an indoor forest.

  There had been few substances that would have given off any kind of odor in the thin atmosphere of Aerie. And without a physical body, he had never really interacted with anything in an olfactory capacity before. The rocky cliffs and bright starlight were a stark contrast to the fragrance and softness of his new home.

  The thought of soft things turned his mind back to the dream.

  Brooke had been in his arms, her long hair down, her shoulders bared.

  But none of that mattered compared to the expression of wonder and interest she had lavished on him.

  Brooke was decidedly uninterested in Conan in real life, or at least she was romantically uninterested. She was perfectly friendly and kind to him. Except in the dream she had been more than friendly…

  He carried his bucket back to the utility sink, emptied it, refilled it, and carefully dropped in a capful of pine soap, then carried it back out and began to mop again.

  Since migrating into his human form, Conan had discovered a unique ability. His brothers called it dream traveling, as there seemed to be no reference to it in human culture. His own dreams were hazy things. But now and then he would find himself transported into a crystal clear vision that wasn’t his own.

  Last night had been different though, very different.

  He had only watched other people’s dreams as if he were a spectator, sort of like a silent cameraman in surreal television show. But he had been in Brooke’s dream - free to interact with his surroundings, free to hold her, speak to her, even torment them both with that one gentle kiss.

  Did that mean that she cared for him after all?

  “What are you doing?” Brooke’s voice echoed off the shining floors.

  “Hello, Brooke,” he called to her.

  “You know I’m not allowed to teach here anymore, right?” she asked.

  He tried not to be distracted by the way her hair shimmered in the overhead lighting.

  “I know,” he replied. “I’m so sorry.” It was terrible that she couldn’t teach here anymore. Brooke was a wonderful teacher.

  “Well, the only silver lining was supposed to be that we didn’t have to clean it anymore,” she said, her smile a bitter twist.

  “I like to mop,” he said with a shrug.

  “You’re going to make someone a fine little husband,” she said with a grin.

  He processed the words very carefully.

  Brooke had said he would be a “little” husband, which was blatantly untrue, as he towered above her. But otherwise this sounded almost like a marriage proposal. And after the dream last night…

  “It would be my honor to be your mate,” he told her tenderly. “That is, if you wish to accept me.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  She shut it and opened it again.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said at last. “It’s a figure of speech, like if someone does something nice, the other one says they would make a good husband or wife.”

  “I see,” he said. “But my offer to you stands.”

  Her blue eyes sparkled and he noticed the flush of pleasure on her cheeks.

  Sweet anticipation curled in his chest.

  “I’m not marriage material,” she said curtly, turning away.

  “What does that mean?”

  Conan swallowed down his frustration. He could experience it later, in private. For now he wanted only to understand her. He might not have many more chances to talk with her alone if she really was giving up on her gym.

  “It means I’ve got bigger problems right now,” Brooke said.

  “I understand,” he told her. “Is there anything we can do to change your landlord’s mind?”

  “Thanks, but no,” Brooke said. “Henderson’s pretty much by-the-book. If the legal department tells him it’s a conflict of interest for me to run a business here then he’s not going to let me run it.”

  “What will happen to the gym?” Conan asked.

  “They’re selling the building,” Brooke said. “Most likely it will all be ripped out by the new owner.”

  Conan looked around at the bags, the ring, the equipment - all of it built or bought by the efforts of the woman in front of him.

  “You worked so hard,” he said.

  “It was my dream,” she replied. “It’s always been my dream. I love martial arts so much, I just want to share it with the world. I guess that sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” Conan said.

  He admired her passion, although she seldom voiced it. She had a warrior’s spirit, which made her strong yet stoic.

  “But it’s over now,” she said, brushing her palms together as if washing her hands of the matter.

  “No,” he said. “We cannot allow that to happen.”

  “It’s out of our hands, big guy,” she told him sadly. “Unless you have twenty-five thousand dollars.”


  “Is that the cost of the building?”

  “No,” she said. “God, no. I only wish. It’s the cost of the down payment - well the part I haven’t got saved already. I spoke to a bank. Without enough down, I can’t get a loan for the rest.”

  Conan didn’t exactly understand the details of what she was saying, but their meaning was clear: Twenty five thousand dollars stood between the woman of his dreams and the dreams of his woman.

  He would find a way to get the money.

  And then maybe Brooke would have time for something besides trouble.

  “So do you want to spar?”

  Her tone was playful. He was glad her spirit hadn’t been broken by the unfortunate events of the last few weeks. Where the other humans he knew seemed to like to curl up with a cup of tea at the end of the day, Brooke was always ready for one more training session.

  “Yes,” he said. “Let’s spar.”

  She tossed him a pair of gloves.

  “Is it unusual for a female to be so fierce?” he asked her.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, squinting a bit as if his question displeased her.

  “From all that we learned of your culture before leaving Aerie, it seemed that men were traditionally the warriors of Earth,” he said carefully.

  “I see,” she nodded. “But that is not traditional now. I guess some things have changed since the ‘80s. Modern women serve in combat. And we fight in competition too.”

  She had begun to stretch, so he stretched with her, trying not to stare at the lovely arch of her back, the supple perfection of her long legs.

  He was certain that asking her about her time in combat would be a mistake, though he did not know why.

  “Have you ever fought in a competition?” he asked instead.

  “Not since I was a kid,” she said with a wistful smile.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “My injury never really healed,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. “I can’t compete anymore. Come on, let’s get in the ring.”

  He followed her to the ring in the far corner of the training area and hopped over the ropes, enjoying the satisfying thud when he landed on the other side.

  “Why did you ask me that question?” Brooke wanted to know.

  “Which question?”

  “The one about fierce women,” she said.

  “It was only that I was curious,” he told her. “I never had any notion of physical force until I had this body. Now I’m beginning to understand how powerful I am because of my size. It just… confuses me that someone as tiny as you would be made to train warriors.”

  Two expressions swept across Brooke’s lovely face one right after the other.

  The first was naked fury, the second was amusement.

  Suddenly Conan lost his ability to speak.

  Then she was coming at him.

  She had tackled him and he was on his back on the mat before he had a chance to react.

  He blinked up at her, his heart racing, body reacting automatically to the woman who straddled him, panting.

  “You’ve been my sparring partner for a week,” she said. “And you think they make me train the cadets?”

  “Well, I didn’t mean—” he began.

  “Wait,” she cried. “Have you been holding out on me?”

  “Only because I am larger and stronger,” he said. “I would never wish to harm you.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed and Conan was treated to the view of her graceful neck.

  He wiggled beneath her, worried that she would notice how his body was reacting to her touch.

  “Go ahead and stand up,” she offered.

  He made a half-hearted attempted.

  “No, really try,” she demanded. “No more holding back.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t send her flying.

  He moved to leap up.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried again.

  Still nothing.

  She really had him pinned.

  Every time he tried to brace one of his limbs on the mat to push himself up, she managed to effortlessly take his support away.

  He stopped struggling and gazed up at her in admiration.

  Brooke dropped down so that her elbows caged his head. She was so close that he could feel the feather soft caress of her breath.

  “Don’t underestimate me,” she whispered.

  But Conan had forgotten the meaning of words as he reveled in the warmth and strength of his intended mate. Her breasts were pressed flat against his chest. Her hips were joined to his.

  And though her blue eyes were flashing, her lips were parted slightly, as if she, too, were under the spell of their attraction.

  Surely she felt it, this pull that was stronger than either of them, drawing them together.

  Her eyes softened and she seemed to hold her breath.

  “Brooke,” he whispered.

  “Brooke,” someone called from the stairwell leading down to the gym.

  The spell was broken and she leapt off him as if he were made of the molten lava of Dragarth.

  “We were going to order pizza,” Veronica said from the doorway. “Do you guys want in?”

  “Sure,” Brooke said.

  “What are you doing down here?” Veronica asked. “I thought you couldn’t teach anymore.”

  “We were just cleaning up,” Brooke said. “But we’re done now.”

  Conan did not approve of the finality of that statement.

  “Lobo’s going to pick up the pizza,” Veronica said. “Do you want to give him hand, Conan?”

  Conan thought of the classic Earth joke where one party pretended to confuse the idiomatic meaning of “giving a hand” and proceeded to offer applause in place of assistance. But his heart felt too heavy for such levity.

  “Yes,” he replied instead. “Gladly.”

  It would be good to talk with his brother. Lobo would understand his anguish. He had been beside himself over Veronica not so many days ago. But Lobo’s situation had been resolved in the most ideal manner. He might be able to help Conan find his way into Brooke’s heart.

  4

  Brooke

  Brooke dreamed of the desert again.

  Afghanistan.

  Although it wasn’t on another planet, it felt like one. A sea of brown rocks spread out under the tan sky as far as she could see, and the air was full of gritty brown dust. The sun beat down without a single tree or ridge to block it, and the heat felt like an added weight on top of all her gear.

  But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the joy of being with her patrol again. They were all there, right behind her.

  This was the part of the dream that sucked her in, the before part, where she thought that maybe if she tried hard enough, she could finally change the outcome this time.

  But no matter how she screamed inwardly, nothing changed. It never would, no matter how many times she played it back. She couldn’t undo her carelessness, couldn’t bring back her brothers and sisters in arms. She couldn’t even make her dream self turn to drink in one last look at them before.

  They had reached the edge of the tiny town. Adobe walls surrounded a square. Low, stucco buildings backed up to the fortifications.

  Sometimes Brooke sent one of her soldiers to do a preliminary sweep the area. But today she did it herself.

  She stepped into the square.

  It was still early in the morning, so the lack of civilians wasn’t unusual.

  She searched the dirt for signs of digging, particularly near where cars might enter the square.

  There were none - no debris, nothing suspicious.

  Slow down, look again, Brooke begged her dream self.

  But she’d already swept the square twice. That was all she ever got.

  She turned back to the crew and gave them the all-clear. They were already filing past her, their boots kicking up more coppery dust.

  Come back, she begged
them inwardly. Please.

  But they couldn’t hear her. They were already in the square.

  And then there was the boom, like lightning hitting sheet metal.

  A scream.

  Someone tackling her, shielding her under his body.

  White-hot pain in her shoulder.

  Darkness.

  More screaming.

  But it was only Brooke, waking herself up by ripping her throat raw with her own screams.

  She sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, shoulder singing with pain.

  A door in the hallway was already clicking, and she heard footsteps, which meant that Trinity would soon be there.

  She had only this one moment to try to remember what had been in that square. But she hadn’t seen anything.

  And she never would, because it was only a dream. The reality was already set in stone, past the reach of any attempt to set things right, no matter how desperately she wanted it.

  “Hey,” Trinity said through the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah,” Brooke said, rubbing her eyes.

  Trinity came in quietly and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

  Brooke shook her head.

  “One day you will,” Trinity said, breaking their usual conversational routine. “And when you do I’ll be here.”

  “Thanks,” Brooke said, hoping her friend wouldn’t notice the hitch in her voice. She didn’t deserve sympathy. It was all her fault. If Trinity knew why she was having the nightmare, maybe she wouldn’t come rescue her in the night anymore.

  “Want some ice cream?” Trinity asked.

  Brooke nodded and they got off the bed and padded down the hallway and stairs for the kitchen.

  Trinity opened the freezer and reached through the cloud to pull out two ice cream sandwiches.

  They snuck back upstairs and stepped through the window out onto the fire escape.

  Brooke sat on one of the cool, steel stairs.

  Trinity settled on the floor beside her, and handed over one of the ice creams.

  The campus was quiet, a few street lamps over at the monastery causing the misty pathways to glow. Crickets chirped along the path.