Taken by the Alien Next Door (Aliens Among Us #1) - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,2

her lips in an exaggerated pout, her chest thrust out to display her ample cleavage.

Zevris tilted the phone, narrowing his eyes. In the picture, Kindra had one arm tucked under her breasts, propping them up and making them look fuller. Was that normal behavior for females in general, or was it simply a mannerism of the females of Earth?

The phone vibrated again, and yet another message appeared.

I did u a favor goin out with u

U selfish prick

Hand trembling, Zevris tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and forced himself to breathe. Were these the sorts of struggles his forefathers had gone through in finding their mates generations ago, before the plague had decimated the population of faloran females? He couldn’t imagine any civilization, any species, that could survive long like this if his experiences were indicative of the wider human courtship experience.

He refused to give in to frustration. A broken phone was an unnecessary hassle—one that would have a direct effect on his mission. Humans relied upon their handheld devices for a startling amount of their everyday activities, including the courtship rituals they called dating. Without a working phone, Zevris would be effectively cut off from human society.

Not that it would actually hurt his chances. One could not do much worse than absolute failure.

He exhaled, opened his eyes, and looked down at his phone. Even this—one of the larger models available —was a bit small in his hands, and he had to move his thumbs with care to properly enter his response to Kindra.

I paid for your meal. Shouldn’t that be considered a favor to you?

Kindra’s reply came within a couple seconds.

I didnt ask u 2 do that so i dunno wtf ur point is?

Clenching his jaw and barely keeping himself from growling, Zevris typed, According to your FindMeAMatch profile, Kindra, you are 24 years old. Well into your adulthood. How have you failed to grasp the basics of the English language? It astonishes me that anyone as self-absorbed and

Zevris grunted, halting his thumbs. He shook his head as he deleted the message he’d just written. Better to finish this quickly. As unpleasant as the dinner had been, he would not take out all his anger on this human. Perhaps she deserved some small portion of it, but he knew it would be all his rage released or none at the moment.

I have no further interest in you, female. He pressed the send arrow.

There. It was done.

The phone buzzed.

FEMALE?????

The message was followed by a small bubble with three dots flashing one at a time.

Zevris sighed and ran a hand through his short hair before opening the truck door and climbing out. He drew in a deep breath, appreciating the fresh air, and eased the grip of his tail on his leg. A gentle breeze was flowing through the trees and bushes planted in the neighborhood’s neatly manicured front yards.

Flicking the lock button near the handle, he closed the door. He walked to the mailbox at the end of the driveway, opened it, and removed the envelopes from within, glancing through them. Bills and junk—the two forms of mail that seemed to bind all humans together in a common experience.

Zevris could not understand why humans so often insisted upon utilizing such outdated and wasteful means of communication. Given their current level of technology, they were more than capable of conducting all such communications electronically.

Of course, he’d seen a great many other issues here on Earth that humans were more than capable of overcoming with their technology and ingenuity yet seemed unwilling to fix, so he wasn’t surprised.

He glanced down at the phone.

The dots continued blinking.

A chorus of laughter from children playing down the street drew his attention momentarily aside, but it was not the young ones that his eyes settled upon.

There’d been a FOR SALE sign posted at the neighboring property for the last couple months. Zevris had seen strangers come and go, often led by well-dressed humans with friendly, sometimes overeager smiles. Realtors. That was the word.

A smaller sign had been attached to the post above the original one.

SOLD.

That meant he would have a new neighbor. Perhaps he could befriend that neighbor, and through that friendship pick up the understanding he required to move his mission forward. He’d attempted to be friendly with several of the other neighbors, and many had reciprocated at first. Over time, it became clear that most of the people in the nearby dwellings simply preferred to keep to themselves. One man from across the street,