Matched to the Alien Rancher at Christmas (Latharian Mate Program: Unmatched Mates #1)

Chapter 1

The paper garland hung crooked across the viewport, a pathetic string of folded ration wrappers that Juni had spent two hours creasing into something vaguely festive. She stood on her tiptoes, which didn’t help much at five-foot-three, and tried to adjust the droop in the middle.

“O Holy Night” hummed its way past her lips on automatic.

“For the love of God, Juni, if you don’t stop with the Christmas carols, I’m going to shove you out the airlock.”

Aida didn’t even look up from her datapad. The engineer sprawled in the corner of their cramped quarters, one leg hooked over the arm of her seat, grease still smudged on her knuckles from helping with repairs in the cargo bay. Her pixie-cut hair stuck up at odd angles.

Juni grinned and just kept humming. Louder.

“I mean it.” Aida finally lifted her head, her eyes brown and sharp. “We’ve been on this tin can for six weeks. Six. Weeks. If I have to hear ‘Silent Night’ one more time, there will be violence.”

“It’s not ‘Silent Night.’ It’s ‘O Holy Night.’”

“I don’t care if it’s ‘Deck the Halls.’ Stop.”

Finley laughed from her bunk, the sound nervous and quick.

She’d been glued to her datapad for the last hour, reading everything she could find about KT-6174’s climate zones.

Again. Her auburn hair escaped its bun in frizzy tendrils around her face.

“Let her hum. It’s better than sitting here in dead silence waiting for—”

“Don’t say it.” Val’s voice cut across the cabin, sharp and commanding even when she wasn’t trying. The oldest of them, she sat with her back straight, steel-grey eyes fixed on the viewport. Former military, and it showed in every line of her posture. “Talking about it won’t make it happen faster.”

Autumn shifted on her bunk, tucking her braid over her shoulder. “We should know soon though, right? They said this morning.”

“‘Morning’ is relative in space.” Anja paced the narrow strip of floor between the bunks, all controlled energy with nowhere to go. Tall, athletic, and sharp-featured, she’d been pacing for an hour. “Could mean anything.”

Juni tugged her tunic down over her hips and immediately regretted it.

The movement just drew attention to the fact that the standard-issue clothing fit her all wrong.

Too tight across her chest and hips, too loose everywhere else.

Finley had the same problem with length…

the pants pooled around her ankles, but at least she was slender enough that the tunic didn’t cling.

Stop it. Nobody’s looking at you.

She forced her hands away from the fabric and reached for another crumpled wrapper. If she folded it just right, she could add a little dimension, make it look less like trash and more like—

The door panel beeped.

All six of them froze.

The door slid open, and one of the Latharian crew members, J’Ren, ducked through, his massive frame filling the doorway.

He had to be six-and-a-half feet tall, with shoulders as broad as a shuttle.

Dark hair was pulled back in warrior braids, and he had green eyes with those strange pupils that still made her brain stutter when she looked directly at them.

“We’ve received word from the surface.” His voice rumbled through the cabin, deep enough that she felt it in her chest. “The colony has completed the lottery. Your hosts will be waiting for you when we land.”

The air went tight.

Her fingers clenched around the ration wrapper, crinkling it into a ball.

This was real. This was happening. In a few hours, she’d be on an alien planet, assigned to an alien man who’d been forced to take her through a lottery system, living in his home for six weeks while they figured out if they were compatible enough for…

Yeah. That.

“Thank you.” Val’s voice stayed steady as she stood and nodded to the Latharian. Professional. Controlled.

He hesitated, his gaze sweeping across them. The expression in his eyes was unreadable. “The assignments will be transmitted to your personal datapads within the hour. Landing sequence begins in ninety minutes.”

He left. The door slid shut behind him.

Nobody moved.

“Well.” Aida broke the silence first, her voice too bright, too sharp. “Guess we’re really doing this.”

Finley made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Her hands twisted together in her lap, knuckles white. “I can’t. I need to… the statistical probability that we’ll all be placed near each other is—”

“Low.” Anja stopped pacing. “But we knew that.”

“Knowing it and living it are different things.”

“Hey.” Juni let go of the crumpled wrapper and crossed to Finley’s bunk. Sitting down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, she bumped her gently. “We’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No. But I’m choosing to believe it anyway.”

Finley turned to look at her, green eyes too wide behind her glasses. “How are you so calm?”

Calm wasn’t the word for the tight knot in Juni’s stomach or the way her heart kept skipping beats. But she’d learned a long time ago that falling apart didn’t help anyone.

Her mom had taught her that. Joy is a choice, Juni-bug, she’d always said. Especially when everything’s falling to pieces. That’s when it matters most.

“I’m not calm.” She squeezed Finley’s hand. “I’m terrified. But I’m not going to let that steal my joy today.”

“Today’s not exactly a party.”

“Sure it is. We’re about to land on an alien planet and start new lives. That’s either the worst decision we’ve ever made or the best adventure we’ll ever have.” She grinned, big and bright and only a little forced. “And I’m on Team Adventure.”

Aida snorted. “Team adventure. Right. That’s one word for getting assigned to a random alien dude through a lottery system.”

“A hot alien dude,” Juni corrected. “Have you seen them? They are so hot!”

“We have. We all have.” Anja’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “And you’ve mentioned it. Repeatedly.”

“Just saying.” Juni shrugged. “If I’m going to get shipped off to the edge of colonized space to participate in an experimental breeding program, at least the participants are easy on the eyes.”

Val shook her head, but her expression had softened. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m a delight.”

“You’re something, that’s for sure.”

The datapad on Juni’s bunk chimed.

Then Aida’s. Then Finley’s. All six, one after another, a cascade of electronic beeps that sounded way too cheerful.

Nobody moved.

Juni’s throat went tight. This was it. The moment that would determine everything. Where she’d live, who she’d live with, whether she’d be near any of the women who’d become her friends over the last six weeks crammed on this transport.

“Okay.” Val stood, moved to her bunk and picked up her datapad. “On three, we all check.”

Anja nodded. Autumn’s hand trembled as she reached for hers.

“One.”

Juni’s fingers closed around her datapad. The metal was cool against her palm, smooth and impersonal.

“Two.”

Please let it be okay. Please let me be strong enough for this. Please…

“Three.”

She tapped the screen.

ASSIGNMENT NOTIFICATION

Participant: Juniper Sutton

Host: Goraath B’Tavaas

Location: Remote ranch, northern territory

Distance from colony center: 47 kilometers

Terrain classification: Mountainous, isolated

Note: Limited community access. Host lifestyle primarily solitary.

The words blurred. She blinked, read them again.

Remote. Isolated. Solitary.

Forty-seven kilometers from town. From people. From any of the other women.

“I got someone named Daax.” Aida’s voice sounded distant, like Juni had water in her ears. “Colony center. He’s the chief engineer.”

“Thayn. The medic.” Autumn’s voice was soft, relieved. “Also colony center.”

Finley looked up. “Kaael. Botanist. He works at the hydroponics facility near town.”

They kept talking, comparing notes, and every single one of them was close to the colony center. Close to each other. Close to people and shops and community and everything that made a terrifying alien planet feel slightly less terrifying.

“Juni?”

She looked up. Val was watching her, those sharp grey eyes missing nothing.

“Where’d you get assigned?”

The question made everyone go quiet. Five pairs of eyes locked on her.

She swallowed and tried for a smile. It fell flat. “Northern territory. A ranch.”

“How far?” Anja’s question came fast.

“Forty-seven kilometers.”

“Oh, shit.” Aida set down her datapad. “That’s… that’s really remote.”

“No, no… It’s fine.” The words came out too brightly. Juni cleared her throat, tried again. “It’s fine. I like quiet. And ranches. I’ve always wanted to see a ranch.”

She’d never seen a ranch in her life. She’d grown up in housing blocks, surrounded by concrete and crowds and the constant hum of city noise.

“What’s his name?” Autumn’s voice carried gentle concern that made Juni’s eyes sting.

“Goraath.”

Finley was already pulling up information on her datapad, fingers flying. “Goraath… okay, I’m finding basic registry info. No occupation listed beyond ‘independent rancher.’ No community affiliations. No—” She stopped. “Oh.”

“What?” Juni leaned over. “What ‘oh’? No ‘oh’. I don’t like ‘oh’.”

“He voted against the Mate Program.”

Her smile froze on her face.

“He what?”

“The colony took a vote before it agreed to participate.” Finley’s eyes stayed locked on her screen. “It’s in the public records. Most voted in favor, but there was a small opposition group. Goraath was one of them.”

Her stomach dropped. Perfect. Just perfect. She was being assigned to a man who didn’t want her there, didn’t want any of them there, and lived so far from anyone else that she’d be dependent on him for everything.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Val’s voice cut through the spiral of panic starting to build in Juni’s chest. “He entered the lottery. He accepted the terms. His opinion of the program doesn’t change the fact that he agreed to host.”

“Yeah, Val’s right.” Anja crossed her arms. “And if he gives you trouble, report it. They built safeguards into this program for a reason.”