Hawk: Sky Mates (Intergalactic Dating Agency): a Sci-Fi Romance

by Susan Grant

  That distraction, no. But a new distraction had taken its place. Instead of keeping his distance, he now wanted it erased completely.

  Chapter Six

  “Hey, Hawk.” Karma’s voice pulled Hawk’s focus away from Kelly. “I may come to you for advice if I get chosen for this Sky Mate thing. If you’re good with that.”

  “It will be my pleasure to advise you.” He would do just about anything for Karma in that moment, up to and including a hearty man-hug for the information his drunken tongue had unleashed. “Barkeep, please add this man’s purchase to my bill.”

  Karma signaled his approval for Hawk’s gesture with a thumbs-up. “The next round’s on me,” he said and walked away.

  Hawk pivoted to Kelly, leaning his bent arm on the bar. Noise and people swirled like a storm with them at the center, a sense of privacy in the midst of chaos. “That was an enlightening conversation.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s drunk.”

  “No one wins your heart. This is a false statement?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she exhaled. “Not exactly. I’m in my thirties, Hawk. I’ve had an adventurous life. Yeah, there’ve been a few serious relationships along the way, but they didn’t work out. It’s okay. I’ve met a lot of goals and I’m content with who I am as a person. I’ve poured myself into serving, learning, training—and flying. More than anything, I love to fly. At least that’s what the last guy I was with complained about before he broke off our engagement.”

  “He complained of your love of flying?” And shattered their Terran commitment over it. The fool. “How can that be a negative trait?”

  She beamed up at him. “I love that you asked that question. I wish there were more men like you on Earth.”

  Just one man was all she needed—him. But he held back from saying so, not wanting to spook her before he could convince her of what he already knew: Kelly was meant to be his.

  “To my ex it was. He said I was more passionate about my career than him. Which was true.” She laughed, but it wasn’t the lighthearted laugh he was used to. It was a way to mask the old wound. “I used to think he broke my heart. In retrospect, I think being dumped hurt my pride more than my feelings. At least it happened before the wedding invitations went out. So there’s that. These days, I only date casually. I steer clear of the whole mess.”

  With a straight face, Hawk sliced his hand across his neck, imitating Karma.

  She laughed. “Pretty much.”

  “To verify, you’re not involved with anyone now.”

  “Nope. I’m not looking to be either.”

  Little did she know such a challenge did not faze him.

  She propped a hand on her hip and tipped her chin up, her gaze direct. “Okay, flyboy. If we’re playing true confessions, exchanging secrets, it means you have to participate too. Are you with anyone? Is someone waiting for you at home? A sweetheart? I know you’re not mated, but I wasn’t sure how far you sky warriors take the whole Monks of the Rim thing.”

  “If you mean celibacy, not that far. And no. There is no lover. There hasn’t been for a while,” he was compelled to add, wanting her to know that at his age he didn’t share physical intimacy without intention. “Casual relationships never held much appeal for me. I was raised to fight and to be paired. My parents, Sky Mates, met and trained as children. When they were of age, they married. I was born. And the process of my matching began.”

  “As a child?”

  “From birth. Before birth even. A few times, test results looked promising. But when it comes to Sky Mates, there can be no almost. One will recognize their mate right away, the stories say. I’d feel the rightness of it—of her—in my body and soul. We’d be mates in every way—as aviators and as lovers.”

  Their gazes met, held. Heat ignited between them. His fingers itched to stroke along her upturned jaw, his lips touching hers. Would she open for him—her mouth, her body, welcoming him inside her? A throbbing ache lodged in his groin, and he forced himself to take a long, cold drink.

  “Wow. I can see why you wouldn’t be interested in casual dating, knowing how much better things would be with…”

  “A true mate?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I know how badly you wanted to be matched.”

  “I had those same thoughts. All the time—throughout my late twenties and even into my thirties. Before I shelved the idea of being paired, before my chances of finding a Sky Mate had dwindled to near zero. Certainly, clinging to the hope my fate might somehow turn around probably kept me from looking harder for something lasting. By the time I gave up and looked around, no one came close to what I hoped to find.”

  And then you came along, Kelly.

  Could he convince her to explore a more intimate relationship with him? To see if their synergy extended to the physical? They already shared a mental, and even an emotional resonance. Or was she too guarded to trust him after her previous less than stellar experiences?

  Her eyes were luminous as she searched his face. Could she sense his thoughts? If only she could.

  Even before being fitted with neural implants that would bond them permanently, Sky Mates were able to read each other easily. Despite their synergy, he and Kelly weren’t a match and couldn’t. She isn’t my mate. And yet every time he touched her, it threatened to prove him wrong.

  Just then, the music changed, the tempo slowing down. He saw couples embrace and sway with the music. While he’d avoided dancing with her since their two-step, now it was all he wanted. Now that he could. “Dance with me, Kelly.”

  “It’s a slow dance.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “It’s just… things could accidentally heat up between us.”

  Feeling foolish, he snapped upright, his stomach muscles rigid as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Of course.” Luckily she’d said something, or he’d likely have committed another cultural gaffe. “Such a dance would be inappropriate for colleagues. Thank you for pointing out that fact. I’m no expert on Terran rituals.”

  Her reserve melted, her eyes crinkling. The dimple that had obsessed him for weeks was back. “It’s perfectly fine for colleagues to slow dance. Perfectly fine for us. No one would care. I don’t care. It’s just… if you want to keep your distance, it may not be a good idea.”

  “I don’t wish to keep my distance actually,” he blurted out.

  She almost dropped her glass. She set it down on the bar, and her knuckles brushed his wrist. A ripple of energy spun down his spine. His breath caught, a gut punch of need. Her fingers spasmed around her glass.

  “All this time, I thought you did,” she said.

  He steadied his voice, his words measured. He wanted no miscommunication. “I did when the possibility of your being matched existed. I didn’t want to interfere; it wouldn’t have been right. Now that you’re not in the study, it no longer applies.”

  She seemed to take a moment to absorb that. Then she nodded. “Well then. You probably shouldn’t leave Texas without learning how to slow dance. It would be a tremendous oversight.”

  “You’d be remiss as co-liaison if you allowed it to happen.”

  “I would. Galactic relations would be strained.”

  “Not to mention the new relationship between our worlds.”

  They exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

  He extended his hand. “Let us do our part to hold the Triad together.”

  With a playful smirk, she slipped her warm fingers into his. They merged onto the crowded dance floor. He drew her close, resting his splayed hand on her back. After a moment of hesitation, she relaxed against him.

  He closed his eyes, feeling her, holding her, and thought he heard the whisper of a sigh escape her lips. Goddess, her scent, her curvy little body… He wanted her now. He wanted to spirit her away someplace private and make her his so there’d be no more doubts for either of them. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries or to act too forward, but would you like to plan
some activities outside of work, apart from our professional duties? The two of us.”

  She lifted her head, the corner of her mouth edging into her cheek. “You mean outside of babysitting Solos. Like a date night?”

  “If that is what the Terrans call time alone for a couple, yes.”

  Suddenly shouts broke out and a chair clattered to the floor. Kelly and Hawk flew apart and swung around to face the source of the commotion.

  Rigel and Rowan stood between some Terran females and a pair of men with military haircuts and a lot of body ink.

  Drakken.

  The ruckus shattered Kelly’s spell—or whatever she was supposed to call what had just transpired between her and Hawk. She’d been swinging with indecision between wanting to get him alone and worrying she might be letting herself get too attracted to him.

  A date! Yikes!

  It had all started innocently enough: ice water, hot eyes, and a conversation about her DNA that had somehow turned her on. Then boom. She’d been completely into it—into him—when all hell broke loose.

  “Keep them in line, Crackers.”

  With M&M’s orders ringing in her mind, she dived into the fray. The sky warrior brothers Rigel and Rowan stood near one table, the Drakken at another. There were puffed-out chests, a spilled beer, and a few upset women, but no punches appeared to have been thrown.

  Yet.

  “Hey, guys, let’s take it down a notch, okay?” Her heart drummed hard against her ribs, adrenaline zinging. She was pretty fearless, but bar brawls weren’t her specialty. However, her dream job and her promise to her commander were at stake.

  Rigel righted the chair. She liked him—he was a sweet kid. Like Hawk, he wore a Western-style button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled partway up and jeans and boots. If not for his Viking hair, sparkly skin, and vivid eyes, he’d pass for a local. “We’ll find another place to sit, Captain Ritz. We don’t want any misunderstandings.”

  Thank you, she mouthed to him.

  The group began to disperse. She’d started to turn back to Hawk when an obnoxious cheep-cheep sound came from the Drakken pilots. She recognized one of them as a WUG she’d instructed a few weeks ago. Tall and good-looking. An excellent pilot, he sported puckered burn scars on the tops of both hands. Before the reunification, the Empire hadn’t enjoyed access to nanomeds the way the Coalition had. Many Drakken bore war injuries, most of the time as badges of honor. “Ensign Garokk—why are you making that noise?”

  His expression hardened. “They’re birdies.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They’ve got raptor genes engineered into them, Captain. Bird DNA.”

  “Aye,” sneered his buddy. “They’re things, freaks. Not like us. Not really human.”

  Shock reverberated inside her. She’d heard of the Triad’s supersoldiers—Wraiths and REEFS. Riddled with hardware, they were still considered human. Weren’t the sky warriors?

  Of course they were. Her heart squeezed when she thought of Hawk’s shyness, his kindness, his sacrifices, and she wanted to throttle these pilots for casting doubt on his humanity.

  Garokk’s buddy wore a thin, decorative tattoo around his index finger. She’d learned in cross-cultural training and from her Drakken students that the inked bands were the same as wearing wedding rings.

  “Freepin’ birdies,” he said, then pursed his lips, chirping.

  Garokk turned his head to the side and muffled a snicker.

  “Hey! That’s enough,” Kelly snarled. “There’s no place for this bullshit at TopGun school. You’re Triad officers. We expect you to leave your wartime grudges at the door. If you’ve got a problem with that, I’ll be happy to march your asses into Colonel Miller’s office first thing tomorrow morning. You can take it up with him.”

  Mumbling apologies, the two men collected their drinks.

  She turned away, steaming mad, and almost collided with a wall of muscle just as Hawk’s arm shot out and blocked Falcon from charging.

  Chapter Seven

  Hawk propelled Falcon backward until he’d maneuvered him close to the front door. It was less noisy there. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Do not allow them to bait you. Remember who you are, son.”

  A muscle twitched in Falcon’s jaw as he lowered his head. “I know better. I’ve let you down, sir.”

  From the corner of his eye, Hawk noticed Ellfen and Garokk facing each other down. Her too? Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and her chin jutted out as she seethed while the Drakken paced in front of her, his finger jerking as he said something. The crackle of another looming confrontation was in the air.

  “Eagle,” Hawk snapped, using her call sign. She whirled back to them, her hair swinging, her narrowed eyes still on the Drakken. Meanwhile, Garokk moved away, but not before he cast one last look over his shoulder at Ellfen. There was definitely heat in that look, and not all of it could be explained away as anger.

  Hawk spun back to Falcon. “When have we ever had to face our foes outside a cockpit? Regardless, we can’t let being dirtside give them an advantage. Next time they throw down the gauntlet, you must walk away.”

  Falcon nodded, but Hawk feared his guidance wasn’t enough. Sometimes the young warrior felt like an explosive device on a timer.

  The rest of the Solos and Kelly gathered around.

  Hawk turned to Rigel and Rowan. “Report,” he ordered as if they’d just returned from a skirmish in the Borderlands.

  Rowan stood at attention. “Sir, some females were sitting with those Drakken at the table next to me and my brother. The girls started paying attention to us, and the Drakken didn’t like it. We didn’t initiate it.”

  Hawk absorbed that, nodding. His gut burned with aggravation. Sky’s End was used to being seen as the galaxy’s pariahs, the least understood members of the Coalition. They were used to name-calling. Yet the incident irked him.

  Because it had occurred even here, on this far-flung world. One that was so critical to his people’s future.

  He knew some remained uncomfortable with the reason Sky’s End needed Earth. The idea of bonded pairs. If the rumors spread—of their being less than human, the lies and innuendo—would the Terrans be repulsed by them? What if they refused to mate? Then all would be lost.

  He turned to Kelly. “You placed yourself in harm’s way to defend us.”

  She smiled. “You would have kept me safe, I think.”

  True. He would never have allowed harm to come to her. Even if with words alone she’d had the power to send the Drakken scurrying. “Sky warriors aren’t used to others fighting our battles, but know we view such actions with high esteem.”

  “Thanks, but I wasn’t being noble. I didn’t want a dumb bar fight getting us in trouble. Then they started saying things I didn’t like. Hateful things. There’s no place for that shit. I’m sorry it happened.”

  Scowling, Hawk waved a hand. “Let the Drakken cast their measly insults. One thing is certain—the Great War wouldn’t have been won if not for our unique skills.”

  “The war that they lost,” she said. “I can understand why some of them have hard feelings. Still, all the aviators go through a psychological assessment before they get here. It’s supposed to weed out the ones who don’t want to play nice.”

  “Peace is still new. It will take time.”

  “Agreed. But I will take disciplinary action if it happens again.”

  “Narekk, tell Captain Ritz why they call us birdies.” Hawk nearly spat out the word. He kept a wary eye on Falcon, but the big sky warrior remained silent, his attention focused somewhere none of them could see.

  The prince stepped forward. He was smaller in stature than the rest of the sky warriors. He lacked their silver skin tone, and his hair was more brownish than silver. But his body had accepted the necessary bio-augmentation, allowing him to become a sky warrior. It gave his eyes their telltale lavender cast. That he’d been willing to endure the excruciating process as an ou
tsider had won Hawk’s admiration. “Captain Ritz, my family, the royal family, share common ancestry with the people of Sky’s End.”

  “Goddess blood,” Kelly said.

  “Yes. Eons ago, the divine ancients landed on Sky’s End. For reasons unknown, they left behind some of their own—and their Dragon ships—before they continued on to Ara Ana.” Narekk lowered his voice. “This isn’t mentioned in the Agran Sakkara, our bible—not once. No one speaks of it. To say the goddesses were on Sky’s End at all is to flirt with blasphemy. Even my parents don’t fully accept the claim. But I do.” He stood taller.

  “Narekk is one of us now,” Hawk said.

  “You’re right—I’ve never heard any of this,” Kelly said. “It’s why they chirp at you?”

  “Not exactly. In the early days, to better fly the Dragon ships, sky warrior DNA may have been mingled with raptor DNA. Legend says we’re part human, part birds of prey.”

  Her focus swung to Hawk. “It’s true then, what they said about your not being fully human.”

  Hawk wished he could deny the prince’s words. “We don’t know. The research is inconclusive because of the extent of the genetic engineering. Thousands of years’ worth of tinkering. Technology we can’t re-create. Why do the Drakken chirp at us? Sky’s End led a massive assault against their forces a century ago. They call it the Ragallen Massacre, but the name doesn’t tell the real story. After that, they popularized the use of the term birdies and the chirping. I guess as a rallying cry. They feel better if they can make us feel worse.”

  Kelly’s brows crashed together. “I knew it was a slur. The first time I heard it, I had the feeling.”

  “You heard it before tonight?” His spirits sank.

  “Yeah. On the flight line this morning. A different group of Drakken. If it wasn’t for your aerial-salute surprise distracting me, I’d have put a stop to it then.” She nodded at Narekk. “Thank you for the explanation.”

  She aimed a look at Falcon that seemed filled with compassion. Then she addressed the rest of the team. “What does everyone say about leaving before more excitement happens?” Her gaze flicked to Hawk’s for only a heartbeat.