Taken by the Alien Next Door (Aliens Among Us #1) - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,4

in hostile areas without direct contact with or support from his commanders. He was a simple male, a lonely male…and he wanted nothing more than to find a female for lasting companionship.

He ran a hand over his face, muttered his favorite human curse—fuck—and headed upstairs to undress and shower. His weariness only strengthened as he stood under the steaming water, and he knew it was not merely a matter of this evening’s events. He’d been tired for a long while. That was why he’d requested his release from service.

This was his final mission. This was the last operation he would conduct as Althicar Akkaran. After this, he wouldn’t have to bounce from planet to planet, constantly adapting to new places and cultures, constantly living in immediate danger. He just needed to make it through this assignment, and it would all be over. He could find a new purpose. He could rest.

All he needed to do was find a human female who he was drawn to enough to form a mating bond—and who was willing to enter that undying bond with him. A simple, straightforward objective.

On a planet filled with people who were anything but simple and straightforward.

Zevris had a feeling he was going to be on Earth for a long, long time.

Two

Zevris grunted as he shifted his gaze back and forth between the two boxes of cereal. They bore different images on their faces, had different names and color schemes, and displayed the logos of two separate—presumably competing—manufacturers. Each called itself part of a balanced breakfast, and both proclaimed America’s favorite cereal!

His understanding of the word favorite made those proclamations confusing. In that context, the word was being used as a singular modifier. If there were two cereals that were America’s favorite, would it not have been written as One of America’s favorite cereals?

Placing a hand atop either box, he turned them simultaneously so the nutritional information on each was facing him. He scanned the words, many of which were meaningless to him without a search through the data in his neural transceiver, and the correlating numbers. The numerical values were quite similar between the two cereals, and the ingredients listed were nearly identical—and even more meaningless than the nutritional terms.

With another grunt, he opened both boxes and dumped the cereals into the large bowl between them. He poured in cold milk next, put the milk jug and cereal boxes away, and carried his breakfast to the kitchen table. He would not speculate as to why humans drank milk—the nourishment some creatures provided to their young from their own bodies—throughout their adult lives. He’d already lost himself in that contemplation a few times before, and it had brought nothing but further confusion.

It was enough that the taste was enjoyable.

As he ate his cereal, he unlocked his phone and opened FindMeAMatch. Checking through his matches on this application and the various websites he’d registered for had been a daily ritual for most of his time on Earth. He’d made use of as many modern dating services as he could in the hopes of his wide search turning up the right female with whom to advance his mission.

For a long while, these daily searches had even been exciting. He’d never seen so many females. Even knowing the male to female ratio amongst his own people had been closer to one-to-one in the days of his forefathers hadn’t prepared him for the abundance of women on Earth. And there was something inexplicably appealing about human females.

But none had truly called to him, none had really sparked his interest, none had been the perfect, lifelong match that FindMeAMatch had promised. And his enthusiasm for these searches had waned greatly in the week since his date with Kindra.

His cereal crunched between his teeth as he flicked through the FindMeAMatch profiles. All he could see now were the subtle warnings hidden in each one, the hints that the experience would be somehow unpleasant should he meet with these females, that it would be a waste of his time. He was more attuned now than ever to the little lies humans so casually—and so often—told. The games they played in pursuit of mates—or, more accurately, in pursuit of sexual partners.

Preening to flaunt one’s accomplishments and strengths was one thing, but pretending to be something one was not in order to attract a mate was another matter entirely.

Zevris snickered and shook his head. With half his mouth still full of cereal, he said, “Because that’s not what I’m