One
Zevris’s phone chimed from the passenger seat, indicating another received message.
He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, making the leather covering creak. The vehicle’s speed crept higher—sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three. Eight miles per hour over the speed limit, then ten. A small, tight, sinking feeling settled low in his gut as his body was pressed back against the pilot’s chair.
Driver’s seat, he corrected.
He’d never encountered a language with so many words that had similar but nuanced meanings, and that wasn’t even taking into account that there were differing dialects of English spoken in different parts of this world that complicated things even further.
His phone chimed again. He wound his tail, which was currently hidden in his pants, tight around his calf. For an instant, he had the impulse to snatch the phone off the seat, crush it in his fist, and throw the damned thing out the window. He’d been tempted to do so to Kindra’s phone more than once during dinner this evening.
With a growl, he eased off the accelerator. His frustrations were valid, but he could not—would not—allow them to cloud his judgment. Speeding in these rolling deathtraps humans called automobiles was a crime. His mission parameters specified that he was to avoid undue attention, and though the local human authorities were the least of his concerns on that front, he could not ignore their existence.
A faloran althicar was not meant to be on Earth.
Keeping his eyes forward, he reached aside, plucked up the phone, and fumbled with it for a moment before finally flicking the mute switch on the side. He’d had more than enough of such devices for one lifetime.
I need only complete this mission, and I am free. My service will be over, and I may find peace…
Zevris forced a heavy breath out through his nostrils and tossed the phone down. Somehow, he managed to still his mind and simply drive for a few minutes. The freeway was flanked on either side by lush trees and shrubs in brilliant greens that were contrasted by tufts of dry, pale brown grass beneath them. The dichotomy seemed a fitting one for humans; Earth’s dominant species was an indecipherable bundle of contradictions and conflicting natures.
Kindra had been one in a long line of failed connections for Zevris. He’d dated numerous human females since he’d arrived on Earth nearly a year before, and each of those would-be relationships had quickly crumbled for various reasons.
Some of the females, especially early on, had seemed attracted to him physically but were made uncertain by his mannerisms and speech patterns. It had taken time to understand a frustrating truth about the English language—using a word exactly according to its definition did not necessarily mean it was the right word. He still made those mistakes, despite his self-awareness.
He’d also learned another early lesson—females were not keen on discussing the matter of procreation on first dates. His attempts to be honest and up front, at least as much as he was able, had not produced the intended results.
The phrase I want you to carry my offspring was not one that human females found endearing.
A few relationships had fizzled because of what the humans called chemistry. He was fairly certain by now that those females had not been referring to the scientific discipline concerning the composition of matter. As time had gone by, more and more relationships had ended because he’d learned to recognize that they simply would not work. There’d been some deep disconnect between himself and those females that made the forging of a mating bond impossible.
Despite the urgency, despite their race’s desperation, a faloran could not entirely force the mating bond. There needed to be some sort of connection there, some sort of spark.
Zevris had yet to find such a connection.
His freeway exit loomed ahead, and he guided his pickup truck into the appropriate lane to take the offramp. He knew the area well enough that the route to his dwelling was second nature. As he guided his vehicle along the roads and through the turns with practiced ease, his mind took to wandering—something it had rarely done before he’d been sent to Earth.
He’d not performed any exerting physical activity today, but found himself drained regardless, as though a little of his life force had been stolen away.
The first minutes of his initial face-to-face meeting with Kindra had consisted of her pressing her body against his, as though they were already a mated couple, while she held her phone high