Naima: A SciFi Alien Mail Order Bride Romance (TerraMates Book 7)

by Lisa Lace

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Bonus Book: Roar of the Alpha

  Naima

  By Lisa Lace

  I never thought I’d find my soulmate through a mail-order bride agency. I never thought he’d be an alien warrior.

  He calls me naima. His beloved.

  When I’m on my way to meet him face-to-face, my shuttle is attacked, and we crash onto a planet in the middle of a war. I didn’t sign up to be an alien comfort woman. I need my naima to rescue me.

  *

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  Chapter 1

  GABRIELLA

  I had finished my day at work, and it was time to relax at home. Yoga would clear my mind. I tucked my legs underneath me, breathing out deeply. As my eyelids closed, I propped my back against the wall.

  Trying to stop thinking about everything racing through my head was always a mission, almost like a second job. I owed a lot of money. I didn’t want to dwell on it, but it was always at the back of my mind. It was going to take forever to pay off all my debts. Sometimes the neutral hum of my desktop computer could soothe my mind and lead me directly to sleep, but not tonight.

  I would have to do other things to relax. I tried to focus on the rising and falling of my chest, feeling my body begin to loosen with each breath I took. I imagined a peaceful scene. The picturesque stretch of Two Moons Lake materialized in my mind. I saw a wooden dinghy floating on the glittering green water. The view never failed to pacify my turbulent emotions. I liked to imagine it was my private island, a perfect, unperturbed space for me and my thoughts to run free.

  My mind descended into peace. All I felt was the easy, cottony comfort of my sweat pants.

  Ding.

  My eyes popped open, moving to the new message alert flashing on my desktop screen. I hoped something good had broken my meditation. I kicked out my legs with an irritated sigh and hopped to my feet. Once I got close enough to read the sender’s name, my eyes turned into slits. My stomach churned, and I felt the bitter sensation of resentment. I didn’t want to see that name ever again, but there it was.

  Jake Turner.

  At one point in my life, that name would have meant the world to me. The very thought of Jake once left my knees weak. I was different back then; I was a silly, love-struck sixteen-year-old, and I latched onto the first “real” man who showered me with any amount of attention.

  Jake was twenty-three, he had a car, and he was sexy as sin. Those tattoos, piercings, and the irresistible dimples on either side of his pearly-white grin were overwhelming. Jake was a stereotypical bad boy, and I had to get my hands him.

  Looking back I could recognize that the attributes which attracted me to Jake were both superficial and negative, but at the time, they were exciting. On the eve of my seventeenth birthday, I emptied my room. I stuffed all my clothes, plastic jewelry, and anything that ever meant something to me into two duffel bags. I carefully snuck out of my house and into the dead of the night. Jake’s clunky secondhand convertible seemed like a horse-drawn carriage to me, waiting to whisk us off to my happily ever after.

  Guess how long that lasted?

  My bubble of delusion popped in a few weeks. Living life with an unemployed boyfriend whose primary objection in life was to sit on his couch and try to kill people in Call of Duty wasn’t as glamorous as you might think. I convinced myself he was still young and conflicted, and assumed Jake’s aimlessness was a symptom of him trying to navigate his way through life.

  Picking up the slack for the both of us, I started juggling two jobs and eighty-hour work weeks. Jake only got off his ass when it was time to do odd jobs with his friends in painting or construction. Money ran through his fingers. I know he went on drinking binges and late-night parties with his friend, but he never contributed to the rent or our stack of bills.

  I’m not sure why I stayed with him as long as I did. What I did know was that going back home with my tail tucked between my legs wasn’t an option for me. I was going to make the most of what I had. I had a roof over my head, and I wasn’t living on the streets. I had even grown accustomed to our predictable routine. From an outsider’s perspective, you would think we were friends with benefits, not lovers. Maybe not even that - he was more of a couch surfer. But his name was on the lease.

  A couple of years later, my hands and arms were covered with raw callouses, oil spatters, and bleach burns. Jake was usually passed out on the couch in a booze-induced coma. I was a minimum wage zombie clocking in and out of work. I decided to make an effort to get a better job. If my relationship with Jake wasn’t getting any better, maybe the problem was our finances. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a high-school diploma, but I worked with what I had.

  I talked my way into a full-time job at an upscale boutique. As a junior sales associate, my wages were low, but I kept my mouth shut and worked hard. I went through every position in the store before I made manager. It felt like heaven. I would get year-end bonuses, additional time off, and a raise. Everything was going to change for us now. I knew a fresh start was just around the corner.

  One lazy Tuesday afternoon, I left the assistant manager in charge and headed home early to surprise Jake. Before I could kick off my shoes by the front door, I was greeted by the sight of Jake fucking two trollops on my living room couch. I couldn’t get over the betrayal. The threesome was the final strike against Jake.

  I experienced an unnerving feeling of d��j�� vu when I packed up everything I owned. Undeterred by Jake’s blubbering apologies, I crammed everything I bought with my salary (which was everything in the apartment) into boxes and suitcases…even the game console I bought him last Christmas.

  My eyes had stared at the desktop monitor for so long that they were beginning to water. The mouse wavered between the Read and Dismiss buttons of the message alert window. Time to make a decision. I sucked in my breath and tapped Read.

  itz_big: Hey babe. U holding up without me?

  itz_big: It’s been 3 months. You ready to stop this tantrum and come home yet?

  Disgusting. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I pretended he could. I crossed my arms, cocking my head to one side as I thought about the brazen, shameless stupidity of his words. Whatever else you might think about Jake, he apparently had balls of steel. Thinking back about all his mistakes took me into a furious rage.

  I had been late to work countless times because I was tending to a twenty-something loser who couldn’t handle his booze. I spent many nights alone while he was out frolicking with his equally juvenile friends, drinking God-knows-what and screwing God-knows-who. The worst memory was finding him balls-deep in a silicone Barbie doll, whose lusty screams continued to haunt my nightmares.

  Maybe that was the second worst memory. The worst memory was discovering Jake had stolen my identity and used it to open a bunch of credit cards under my name. The money disappeared a long time ago, but I was stuck paying the bills. Even though I received a pay raise as manager, I was going to be working for a long time to climb out of debt.

 
; Ok. Dismiss. Click. Done. My computer beeped softly, clearing the message from my screen. I returned to my bed and tried to meditate and clear my mind. Even though my eyes were squeezed tightly shut, my heavy breathing and racing mind stopped me from achieving any inner peace.

  Ding.

  Fuck. I couldn’t believe it was Jake again. I opened my eyes and dragged myself to my feet, but the computer monitor was still dark.

  This time, it was my phone notifying me I had a message. With a frown, I picked it up and checked the screen. The message was from a new app I had installed yesterday. It was called M8r, from the TerraMates company.

  The message wasn’t from itz_big. The username was GenLaz241. I thought about accepting the request.

  TerraMates specialized in marrying Earth women with aliens. Sounds ridiculous, right? But at this point, I had given up on having a fairy-tale ending for my life with a human man. All the same, I thought there was someone out there for me. Maybe my special someone just wasn’t on this planet.

  I had never felt like I belonged on Earth. It sounds silly, but these thoughts were in my mind since I was a child. Humans are inherently selfish, and nothing ever changes. We participate in an endless cycle of war, poverty, and heartbreak. The same news stories which appear in the headlines today could be topics of conversation from centuries ago. Humanity feeds on endless drama. We refuse to take a step back and learn from our mistakes.

  My kindred spirit, my ‘Mr. Right,’ my soul mate, whatever you want to call it…I knew my special someone is out there. If I had to cross through outer space to fill the gaping hole in my life, so be it.

  I usually wasn’t one to participate in matchmaking of any kind. In fact, I used to poke fun at people who did. But right now, I was ready to roll the dice and broaden my selection pool. In fact, it was possible to look all over the galaxy. I could wipe my slate clean and find love all at the same time.

  What could go wrong?

  Before I made my decision, I opened M8r to look up ‘GenLaz241’.

  Location: Planet Maztek. Languages: Standard, Maztekki, Hindirin.

  My eyes bulged when I saw the name of the planet. Dad had been a doctor and humanitarian. He regularly visited Maztek to aid the native population there, kind of like Doctors Without Borders, but the borders were really far away. In his down time, Dad promoted relations between Maztek and Earth. He took a lot of heat from his friends for being friendly to aliens, but he always said it was worth it.

  Whenever he came back from the planet, he brought me toys and stories about what an enchanting, mystical paradise Maztek was. The best present he ever gave me was a special Maztek lullaby he sang to me when I had problems sleeping.

  Dad promised to take me to see Maztek when I was ten years old. He said I would be old enough then. Dad broke the promise when his passenger shuttle crashed. He didn’t make it back home in time for my tenth birthday. In fact, he never made it home at all.

  Swallowing, I accepted the message request. My phone’s screen split. On one side was an image of myself, and I suddenly realized I did not look my best. Shit. I had swept my strawberry-blonde hair way from my face in a sloppy ponytail. The dark rings under my eyes were prominent under the poor light conditions in the room. I fumbled for the lamp and hastily switched it on. My face looked brighter. I tried holding the phone at different angles, wondering if I would look more beautiful from another perspective. Pulling off my scrunchie, I shook my hair loose and fluffed it to add volume.

  The other side of screen remained blank.

  “Hello? Anyone there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “GenLaz241?”

  “The name’s Lazarus, but Laz will do.”

  His rugged voice was husky, with a manly timbre to his curt replies.

  “My name is Gabriella Stein. Is your camera working? I can’t see anything from your side.”

  Laz’s picture started breaking up. I wondered if there was poor wireless connectivity on Maztek. When it came back, my phone showed a dark room with only a few dim yellow bulbs. In spite of the heavy shadows cloaking his upper body, I could still make out strikingly magnetic features on his face. Forgetting he could see me, I ran a tongue over my cracking lips.

  To start with, he was undeniably sexy. He had rich, dark brown waves of hair tied back into a man-bun. A thick beard lined his square jaw line. He had tattoos on his arms. They covered his massive biceps which bulged out under the sleeves of his shirt. I didn’t know what the symbols said because they were in Maztekki, but I’m sure they were something profound.

  He also looked dangerous. There was something about his eyes that said Don’t Cross Me. I was sure he had killed before and would kill again.

  He leaned closer to the screen. “You still there? I think the camera on your end is frozen.” His steely green eyes seemed to look at me through space, and I woke up from my daze.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before, not even with a human man. I was overwhelmed.”

  He growled. “Me too.”

  Suddenly I felt jittery and started babbling. “A man of few words, huh? I manage a boutique. I would love to do something out of my comfort zone. I’m always up for a good adventure. I love anything drenched in white chocolate. Shit. I’m starting to sound like a dating profile. I’m just nervous, if you can’t tell already.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I shifted in my seat, the shaky grin on my face fading fast as an awkward silence enveloped us.

  “What kinds of things do you like?” I asked lamely.

  “Excuse me.”

  With his chin resting on his fist, he peered over his shoulder. He called out in Maztekki, exchanging words with a muffled voice in the background. My eyes focused to his fist, where I saw four asterisks tattooed on his knuckles. My heart skipped a beat.

  Without warning, Laz started singing. An alien was serenading me over my phone.

  Beyond the four stars, with the whispers of this melody I carry this heart forever, my naima, you’ll be.

  The two lines of the lullaby Dad used to sing to me began to loop on repeat in my mind. For years, I had tried to recall the rest of the lyrics to the broken song, but for some reason, those two lines were the only ones that stuck with me all these years. Astounded, I gripped my armrests. I rocked back in my seat, my tongue sliding over the back of my teeth nervously. As he turned back to face me, I held my breath in anticipation.

  “Sorry. I’m needed elsewhere. We’ll have to cut this short, but we’ll talk again soon.”

  “Oh, but I ��� right. Okay.” Weaving my fingers through my hair, I flashed him a quick smile. “It was nice meeting you, Laz.”

  “And you, Gabriella.”

  The phone went black while I was still waving.

  Well, that could have gone better. Shaking my head, I slid the scrunchie off my wrist and twisted my hair back. I had been out of the dating field for so long that my social skills were in dire need of a brush-up. I wondered if aliens could tell when Earth girls had problems talking with them.

  Ding.

  My phone lit up again. GabriellaS, GenLaz241 has chosen you as his mate. The offer is 500,000 credits. Accept or decline?

  Was this really happening? That was enough money to pay off everything I owed. I snatched up the end of my ponytail, playing with my hair, the bristles pricking at my fingertips. I couldn’t think.

  I felt like this couldn’t be real. I looked at my phone again.

  Accept or decline?

  It wasn’t a difficult decision, but I felt like someone else was in control of my body. I moved my finger forward and pressed accept.

  TerraMates was my ticket to a fresh start in life, and there was no way in hell I was going to let it slip through my fingers.

  Chapter 2

  GABRIELLA

  Tugging on the lapels of my coat, I stepped onto the steel boardwalk leading to the TerraMates ship. The spaceship was a giant passenger shuttl
e accented with gold paint and docked at the end of the spaceport. Dozens of families gathered on the landing by the shuttle gate. The other well-dressed women, more mail-order brides I assumed, wore their most fashionable attire. I saw skimpy dresses and elegant ensembles which flaunted their figures. Streaming tears stained their rouge cheeks and painted lips as they hugged their loved ones goodbye.

  With a sheepish smile, I lugged my suitcases behind me and slipped past the loving families. I had never felt more out of place or more alone. As I strode past the gaggle, a few of the brides regarded me with raised eyebrows and curious stares.

  “You take care of yourself, sweetie ��� you hear me?” A small family of three grabbed my attention. A pretty bride with a bright, round face and a gorgeous head of black, kinky curls huddled with her mother and father. She placed her forehead against her mother’s, carefully touching the elderly woman’s face with her thumbs. The bride wasn’t crying at all, but her clenched lips and the pained look in her eyes revealed her distress. Her father, a tall and big-boned man, easily towered over his wife and daughter. He ran his fingers through their hair and pulled them close to him. His eyes fell shut, and his lips began to move rapidly in silent prayer.

  I realized I was staring at the family. I moved my gaze down to my spiked, four-inch boots. I was becoming overwhelmed with a terrible feeling of nostalgia. After all these years, I should have gotten used to Dad not being around anymore.

  For as long as I could remember, I have had the utterly useless ability to maintain eye contact with people speaking to me but hear absolutely nothing at all. I like to think of it as having a mind with a penchant for roaming. Dad used to say I was a shining star, and I shone the brightest when I shut out the world.