Fated to Mate (Smutt Books #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

PORCHA

He was tall, blue, handsome, and looked like he could rip out my throat with his bare teeth.

I eyed him from across the room, the space between us illuminated by lights wrapped around old wooden beams that held this converted industrial warehouse office space together.

The small stage on one side of the room had ragged curtains draping down on either side of it.

One of the curtains was askew from the earlier performance, where the dancer had slipped on it, grabbed it for balance, and ripped the top of it free from where it was anchored with gold-painted hemp rope.

She was sitting in the corner of the room now, her ankle wrapped in a bandage, surrounded by party goers dressed in steampunk meets apocalyptic wasteland styled outfits coated with a thin layer of white dust, with the exception of the woman who was dressed like a fairy and whose entire outfit lit up with the small little lights sewn into every inch of it, including the artificial wings.

I wasn't interested in the pretend fairy, or the lightly wounded dancer - I was interested in the alien.

The tall, handsome, deadly looking alien who towered over the circle of scantily clad women holding drinks as they asked him questions and stared up at his seven-foot frame of pure muscle.

He was a slightly different shade of blue from his brother, had no hair on his glossy domed head, and lacked horns as well.

That part was a surprise, but apparently, his species came in just as wide a variety as humans, and horns weren’t a guarantee.

I pressed my lips together as I inspected the scene across the room and adjusted my own tight pencil skirt, which didn't have even the slightest spot of dust on it.

My one nod to a costumed element was the small leather belt I wore with an attached leather sheath for a small knife.

I didn't like the idea of competing with other women for any male's attention, even if he was one of the only two aliens in the room, but I knew I had to take some action.

That particular alien had strict instructions on how he was allowed to interact with human women, and unless he wanted to get in trouble with the Norratar, he wouldn't be initiating a courtship with anyone.

I frowned as one of the women reached up and placed a hand on his chest.

My frown smoothed away as he took her hand and gently removed it, his eyes glancing over at me for the briefest of moments, sending a shiver of delight through me.

We had spoken extensively about human courting rituals, and in that small motion of removing the other woman's touch, he was demonstrating that not only had he listened during that conversation, but he was willing to set a boundary without any involvement or promise on my part.

I hadn't once told him I was interested in him.

All we'd done was talk.

I promised him nothing.

He glanced at me again and shifted a step back, giving himself more space from the circle of eager women around him.

A slight flutter of excitement tickled in my heart, not just because of him demonstrating in such a subtle and small way that he listened to me, but because of what I planned to do.

I touched the small knife at my hip. Should I do it tonight?

This place was so public. We were on the top floor, however, and I knew how to get to the roof because the first thing I did when walking into a fire hazard trap of a building like this one was to scope out how I would leave.

"Has your brother made up his mind yet?" my best friend Lamia asked her mate Vlacul, the other tall blue alien in the room.

"Yes," Vlacul replied. "He wishes to stay on Earth."

That excitement curled and fluttered inside of me, growing in strength. It was the last piece of the puzzle that I needed to finalize my own decision. My stomach twisted with nerves of what I was going to do, the excitement playing tennis with my stomach back and forth across my abdomen.

"So he is going to go talk to the mate-matching service?" Lamia pressed.

"Yes," Vlacul replied. He glanced at me with his red eyes, a knowing look in them. "He plans to go tomorrow."

Lamia had been the one to invite me to this party.

It was located on the third floor of a disheveled building two blocks south of Skid Row, and I wouldn't have come if it wasn't for the fact that I knew that Voknar would be there.

He had been on Earth for two weeks now, visiting his brother, and I had the pleasure of his company whenever I hung out with Lamia.

Voknar was courteous, pleasant, and smelled good.

From what I observed, he was a great house guest, well-versed in Norratar law and the rules governing his interactions with human women, enjoyed a steady career as a quantum computing consultant, and was capable of deep conversation. He was also delightfully muscular.

On paper and in person, he was an excellent option to be a father for the baby I was ready to have.

The only problem was that I wasn't signed up for the mate matching service.

I had been considering it until Voknar arrived, and I decided to investigate him as an option first. I was quite attracted to his species' idea of courtship and mating.

If he signed up tomorrow, he might get matched with someone else.

He likely thought the mate-matching service was his only option, given how his species initiated mating courtship, but I had a plan.

I'd decided I wanted him after my first meeting with him, when he engaged me in a debate on the ethics of having a Norratar peacekeeping force on the planet.

He was eloquent, respectful, and adapted his arguments to address my points, rather than just trying to yell over me or ignore what I was saying, like I'd encountered with so many other men.

I'd begun working on the contract that night.

I was prepared for this moment, but I just wasn't sure when it would come.

But now I was sure that the moment was now.

I might not like being the one to take the first step, but then again, that wasn't that abnormal either.

I was a red-blooded woman, and I had certainly stared at a guy across a room before hoping that he would take the hint and come over to talk to me.

In this case, I knew that chatting with me wasn't enough.

None of the women surrounding him had a chance, not when I was there.

I might be a lot of things, but one fact had remained true throughout my life - once I decided what I wanted, I always got it.

Not because of luck or circumstance, but because of planning, dedication, and decisive action.

That, plus conquering my fear of rejection.

I crossed the room, stomping that fear into the ground under my fancy heels.

I could do this. It was just one little action, one little thing that I had never done before.

I slid into the small space in the circle, then stepped inside of it as I cut into the conversation by physically intersecting the words.

One of the women let out a small hiss of disapproval, but I ignored her as I held out a small alien device to Voknar.

This was the easy part, the piece of the puzzle I was comfortable with.

"Look at this," I said.

He took it from me, tapping his thumb against the side to activate the projector.

The contract floated up in the air between us.

I had spent the last two weeks working on it.

I had used Lamia's as the baseline, but made sure to include additional provisions for my specific needs and desires.

Her contract didn't include child-rearing expectations, but mine did.

I liked having things understood from the start: that the commitment to child-raising and household maintenance would be balanced.

I didn't believe in relying on the assumption that my partner would take into consideration the massive physical expenditure that was gestating and birthing a child.

"Excuuuuuuse me," said one of the women in the circle. "We were talking."

I didn't take my eyes off of him as he quickly read through the beginning of the contract, his eyes widening, his sharp intake of breath letting me know that he understood exactly what it was that I was proposing.

Normally, it would be considerate to let the other person read through the entire thing before pressing them to sign, but I didn't believe in consideration.

I believed in winning.

I couldn't stop to think about it. I had to just do it.

I reached down and unsnapped the small leather strap that held my knife in its sheath, my heart pounding in my ears as the sheer audacity of what I was about to do clawed at me, adrenaline spikes coursing through me. I gripped the handle and pulled it free, lifting it.

In one decisive motion, I stabbed him in the chest.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" one of the women screamed as the entire group recoiled backward away from us.

Voknar didn't move at all.

He glanced down at the dagger sticking out of the thick meat of his chest, cutting a hole in the tight-fitting black silk shirt he had on.

The fabric darkened slightly around the blade, and I left it there, embedded in his muscle.

It was a small, sharp blade, explicitly chosen to cause only superficial damage.

I had done my research. I knew what kind of weapons offered his kind a genuine threat, and those were few and far between on Earth.

That said, I could have chosen a bigger knife or gone for a deeper cut, but I wasn't ready to make that kind of commitment after only two weeks.

It was essential to start by just expressing interest and see where things went.

He looked up from the dagger, his eyes so full of fire that it felt like I was standing in front of a furnace.