Zivan (Scifi Alien Romance) (Galactic Mates) Read online

  “You can find me at Pachinko’s after every shift. Section five, third floor, east wing. Looking forward to seeing you make an absolute fool out of yourself.”

  “How will I recognize you?”

  “I’m the big, purple Zoran — can’t miss me. But who are you kidding, you won’t ever leave that hellhole called Earth.”

  “Oh I’ll be there,” she says. “Wait and see, big guy. You’ll regret the day you crossed Frost.”

  “Sure thing, missy. Sure thing.”

  I hear her slam the receiver down, muttering angrily, and I burst into laughter. A part of me feels kinda bad for being such a dick, but I couldn’t help it. With every answer I gave she became angrier, and I liked hearing her yell at me for some reason.

  I look at the stack of papers that’s almost towering over me. I’d like nothing more than to set it alight… but I decide to work my way through it. Begrudgingly.

  Zalurian butter.

  A waste of my talents.

  3

  Mia

  What an insufferable oaf! I smash my com down on my desk, steam blowing out of my ears. I knew Zorans were headstrong, but this…

  Wilco Jackson’s smiling at me from across my desk.

  “What bit you in the ass?”

  Try as I might, I can’t stay away from the station — my house is just empty. There’s nothing for me there. The people here are my family. If I could I’d sleep under my desk… is that bad?

  “This damn Zoran,” I breathe, my nostrils flaring. “Won’t run a simple search.”

  “Observer Security,” Wilco says as he shakes his head. “Aliens are all good for nothing, if you ask me.”

  “Some of them are not so bad,” I say.

  My eyes drift over a chained gang of Terulians being led through the station to their holding cells, chattering amongst themselves in their alien tongue. Another drug bust, most likely.

  “Some are,” he says.

  “Perhaps.”

  Office Jackson gets ups from his seat and sits down next to me, grabbing the case file from my desk.

  “So what’s the story on this girl? Emily Forrester?” he says.

  “Honestly, I still don’t know,” I say as I stifle a yawn. I’ve been working the case since the captain handed it to me, and sleep is starting to catch up with me. “I think she’s just trying to run away from her parents… and honestly, I don’t blame her. Have you ever seen the Forresters? Bunch of new-money loud-mouthed yahoos.”

  “Hm. Pretty thing,” Wilco muses when he sees her photo.

  That she is. A dead ringer for my younger sister, Lily, who I haven’t seen in a decade. I want desperately for there to be some kind of connection between Emily and Lily… but besides being young redheads there’s not a single link.

  “Run me through the details again,” Wilco says. “See if there’s something you missed.”

  “I don’t miss anything, Wilco.”

  “I know, Miss Conscientious, but try me.”

  “Alright. Emily Forrester is an 18-year-old girl. Attended a private high school in Buckhead, here in New Atlanta. Raced drones in her spare time. Perfect grades. A valedictorian. Won the Graham Scholarship Award. Travelled to the Observer with her class as their graduation trip.”

  Wilco raises his bushy eyebrows. “That’s some graduation trip, all the way to a space station halfway across the galaxy!”

  “When I said private school, I meant private, yeah… anyway, once there she sent her parents a video-message saying she’s going to extend her stay. That’s the last message they received from her.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Just shy of 48 hours ago. Won’t pick up her com, Observer Security won’t look into it because she’s an adult and it’s only been two days… so now I’m chasing down this girl.”

  “Hm. Any boyfriends?”

  “None… according to her folks.”

  “So, that’s a yes,” Wilco smirks. “Could’ve run off with some guy. The Observer is an exotic place, after all. She might turn up tomorrow, or a week from now, when her vacation lover has broken her young heart.”

  “Possibly. Hopefully,” I say. “But I have a bad feeling about this one.”

  “Miss Frost? Trusting her gut? Are you running a fever?”

  “Ha ha,” I say dryly. “I’m serious.”

  Jackson thinks for a moment. “I’d still look into the male angle. Such a young, pretty girl… hormones coming out the wazoo, thrust into such a strange, new location. If a space-pimp has sunk his claws into her… you’re right, could be bad news.”

  “I don’t think so. She’s a smart girl. Good grades.”

  “Even smart girls can make dumb mistakes. Wouldn’t be the first one.”

  “True. I pray I don’t find her being forced to work in some dingy alien brothel somewhere… I’ll space that guy.”

  “I’d pay to see that. Uh, you spacing a guy, I mean.”

  “Sure,” I say, teasing Wilco. “Perv.”

  A blush forms on his cheek. I finally scored a verbal point against him. Still got it!

  Wilco gets up and grabs his coat. I glance at the clock and am surprised to see it’s already nearing 5pm. I’ve been working this case for twelve hours straight!

  “I have to go,” he says. “Or my lady is going to give me another earful for being late. Again. What’s your next move going to be?”

  “I suppose I have to go up to the Observer myself,” I sigh.

  “Fieldwork, nice.”

  “I’m out of my element in space though.”

  “Never been?”

  “Never.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You’re detective Frost, after all.”

  I have to struggle to suppress a proud smile.

  “For Emily’s sake, I hope so.”

  Wilco tips his cowboy hat and me and leaves the station, heading back to his family: his wife and two young children. Lucky bastard.

  Me? I’m heading into freaking space.

  I talk to the captain and he makes a few calls. Twenty minutes later he has booked a direct flight to the Observer for me, leaving in only a few hours’ time. On the mayor’s expense account, even.

  I head on home to pack my things. I forgot how busy the streets are at this time of day — hover-cars everywhere, all long lines and honking and yelling.

  I usually don’t leave the station ‘till eight or nine. The work never stops, after all.

  My apartment is empty and dark. It’s a small studio — I don’t need much. Just a bed, a shower and a kitchen… and, to be perfectly honest, I’ve eaten more takeout than I’ve ever cooked.

  A picture of Lily, my younger sister, is framed in the hall. It’s one of the only personal belongings that I keep in my sparsely decorated apartment. Our parents died when we were very young. Black cough took them. I don’t have any photos of them, nothing to remember them by. Lily and I moved through the system, sticking together as we went from one foster home to the next.

  It was tough, but we had each other.

  Until she disappeared one day.

  It’s like she vanished into thin air…

  I suppose that’s what drove me to being a detective, and to pour every waking minute of my life into my work. Every second spent working is one in which I don’t have to feel the emptiness.

  My fingers move across the framed photo. It’s uncanny how much Emily Forrester resembles her. Same nose, the same freckles…

  Time to find this mysterious girl.

  First stop: Pachinko’s Bar on the Observer. Section five, third floor, east wing. There’s a big, purple Zoran there, and his ass has my name on it.

  4

  Zivan

  The cuhla is warm on my lips, and smooth on the way down. The Zoran liquor of choice heats up my insides, and a familiar numbness takes the edge of my agitation off.

  Fucking Forlyn and his Zalurian butter. I know more about the intricacies of butter manufacturing now than I ever wante
d to. All the while I’ve yet to apprehend a single criminal.

  My talents are being wasted.

  “Another one, Pachinko.”

  The alien bartender plops another glass down in front of me with one of his many long tentacles.

  “Much obliged.”

  I bring the glass to my lips, the prickling scent already filling my nostrils, when I stop mid-sip.

  A beautiful figure comes walking into the cop-bar.

  A full-figured beauty, at that.

  Her beige trench coat can’t hide the curves of her hips or the fullness of her breasts. Her long hair, as red as the rising sun, bounces with every purposeful step she takes.

  I’ve never seen a human like that before.

  I tilt the glass back and let the cuhla slide down my throat. When I plop the glass down at the bar, I’m surprised to find two venomously green eyes staring at me, underneath a full head of fiery red hair.

  “Zivan, I assume?”

  Her words are filled with venom. The last man who spoke to me like that ended up on the floor… but I wouldn’t strike a lady.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  The lady — if I can call her that — doesn’t share my qualms about hitting the other gender. She slaps me so hard with her open palm that I, taken by complete surprise, stagger right off my barstool and end up on the ground, with a shattered ego and an imprint of her pale hand on my purple cheek.

  The entire bar, filled with my colleagues, snickers at my misfortune.

  Great.

  How could I let a human, and a female at that, get the drop on me? All this paperwork has dulled my senses. Or it could be the glasses of cuhla I’ve been guzzling like water…

  I rise to my feet and rub my stinging cheek.

  The human female is still looking at me with her face set to kill, her green eyes, as brilliant as emeralds, penetrating me.

  “Who are you?” I growl, straightening out my shoulders. I now tower over the small female — she’ll have to jump if she wants to slap my cheek again.

  “Mia Frost,” she says pointedly.

  A light bulb goes off in my head.

  “You.”

  “The very same,” she says, rubbing her hand. “I warned you, but you didn’t listen.”

  I never in a million years expected the fiery human to take me up on my proposal to duke it out here in the bar.

  “Ha!” I laugh. “You’ve got spirit, female. Let me buy you a drink.”

  “I’ll take it. And it’s Mia, male.”

  “Pachinko! Two more rounds of cuhla!”

  The alien bartender plops the glasses in front of us before I’ve even finished my sentence. I pass the Zoran drink to the lady.

  “Cheers.”

  “What is this?” she asks, taking a whiff. Her face contorts like she just walked into an Eborian stink cloud, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Only the finest drink in all of the universe. Drink up.”

  “I’m not much of a drinker,” she admits.

  “A detective who is not a drinker and female? You never cease to amaze me, Frost.”

  “I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” Mia says as she takes a small sip. “Oh god,” she says. “It burns!”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Swallow it all in one gulp, like a man.” I hit the drink back, the Zoran alcohol coursing through my veins. That’s the stuff.

  “I’ll take it like a woman,” she sneers as she takes the shot. She coughs instantly, fanning her reddening face with her hands.

  “W-water,” she croaks. “Water!”

  I order a glass for her and watch her gulp it down with a bemused smirk on my face.

  So this is my mystery caller. Mia Frost.

  Her voice is seductive and melodic, but even so, I couldn’t have suspected that it belonged to such a beautiful and downright fierce woman.

  With her many curves, she could drive any man on this station wild… and here she is, talking to me.

  “What can I do for you, Frost?”

  “Run the name for me,” she says when she’s calmed down from the spicy drink once more. “Emily Forrester.”

  She reaches into her coat and places a photograph of a young girl in front of me. The girl in the picture looks a lot like Mia. Red hair, freckles. They could be sisters, in fact.

  “I’m off the clock. Come back tomorrow.”

  Mia elbows me in my ribs, and I nearly spill my drink.

  “Don’t make me smack you again,” she threatens.

  I grin as I take another shot.

  “What has gotten you so fired up, missy?”

  “You have,” she says.

  Her chest rises with every breath, her red hair slightly tousled, those thick, kissable lips of hers are parted just right… and I’m the reason she’s breathing so hard.

  All I would have to do is slip my hand around her neck and kiss her. Those bright red lips of hers are practically begging for it. I wonder what that curvy body of hers looks like underneath that trench coat. Is her beautiful, pale skin covered with freckles all over?

  Only one way to find out.

  She pokes her finger into my broad chest.

  “Take me to your station.”

  “We only just met,” I smirk. “Don’t you think you’re rushing into this?”

  She frowns at first, and then her cheeks blush, turning her visage even redder than before, if such a thing is even possible.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispers angrily. “Why can’t you be professional?”

  “You’re talking to me about being professional? You were the one who came in here swinging like a boxer,” I say, rubbing my purple cheek. I can still feel the sting. “How about you calm down first?”

  Mia glares at me, and the blood rushes down to my cock. No woman has ever spoken to me like her before. Most people here on the Observer are intimidated by me: a seven-foot tall Zoran warrior, as purple as an amethyst. They avoid me, turn away when they see me, cross the street when I approach.

  Not Mia. Her personality is as fiery as her flaming red hair.

  And I want to be the man that tames her.

  “There, better. Are you calm?”

  “As calm as a cucumber,” she grits.

  “Why are you in such a hurry, Frost?”

  I intend to drag this conversation out as long as possible. It’s not every day I meet a woman who is my match. Well, comes close to me, at least.

  “I don’t like being here. In space, I mean. It’s not… right.”

  “You’ll find your space legs soon enough, detective.”

  “Maybe. It’s also because of this girl, Emily. She could be in serious trouble. I don’t have the time to sit here and shoot the bull and sip alien liqueurs. She could be locked up in some hover-car’s trunk as we speak.”

  “Unlikely,” I say as I glance at the girl’s picture.

  “But possible. So I insist we run her through your database. Now.”

  I get up and stretch, pushing my shoulders back.

  “Well, why didn’t you tell me you insisted, miss Frost? After you.”

  5

  Mia

  The imposingly tall Zoran is even more obstinate and infuriating in real life than on the phone. He seems to delight in toying with me, making me work for every answer.

  I feel kinda proud for slapping him off his stool like that.

  The way he looked at me, with those bright, sun-colored eyes of his… filled with shock, surprise, and a dash of amazement. It made my breath quicken.

  And what a color combination that is. His lilac purple skin matches perfectly with his golden eyes. If he wasn’t being so stubborn, I’d be inclined to admit that he has a body to die for.

  Not that I’m looking for anything, but if I was…

  He’d be on top of my list. A chiseled jaw, a playful, disarming smirk, eyes that you just can’t look away from… and all that on top of a godly physique.

  Not that it matters. I’m her
e on business, after all.

  He leads me down the winding, narrow halls of the Observer. His frame is so big that he’s nearly bumping into the ceiling. This part of the station obviously wasn’t built with Zorans in mind. They are the biggest, strongest, fiercest alien warriors in the entire known universe.

  Zivan walks in front of me, and I can’t help but stare at his perfectly sculpted ass as he takes his long strides.

  I mean, he’s so tall that it’s practically on eye-level anyway. Almost. Sort of. So that doesn’t mean I’m checking him out or anything. Not a chance.

  “Right through here,” he says, holding the door open for me. “Sector Five’s station.”

  It’s a small, cramped office. I imagined something grand, something ostentatious. The Intergalactic Alliance is known for squandering funds, after all, but not on their police force, it seems.

  “Underwhelming, I know,” Zivan grunts when he sees the look on my face.

  “How did a Zoran end up working here, anyway?” I ask.

  “That’s a story for another time,” the warrior growls as he takes his place behind his desk. I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing when I see the size of his desk.

  It’s tiny. The desk is made for a Terulian, or a Suricat perhaps — not for a seven-foot tall broad-shouldered warrior!

  His knees are almost at eye-level, the short chair threatening to give out under his weight. He has to type using only two fingers, because his datapad is so small.

  It almost feels like I just stepped into some fairytale and he’s a giant.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he growls when he sees my reddening face. “I’m doing this for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

  He does a search for Emily Forrester in the Alliance’s database. I take my place next to him, as much is possible in the small office, and peer over his shoulder.

  Now that I’m standing so close his strong, manly scent fills my nostrils, and it sends a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins.

  Focus, Mia.

  I’m here to do a job.