“I cannot find the mating programs. Could you help me?”
I gritted my teeth, trying to remind myself that he was essentially a foreigner and didn’t know better. “Those channels cost money. We’re not paying for you to watch porn.”
He frowned again. “I have money.”
I remembered the shiny, faceted metal pieces I confiscated when I searched him. “Earth money?”
That deflated him. His broad shoulders slumped, and the gills on the sides of his neck flared. “No.”
“Look, right now you’re an illegal immigrant. You have very few rights, and buying porn is not one of them. Find something else to watch, or turn the TV off.”
N’kal paused for a moment then handed me the remote again. “What programs do you like? We can watch something you enjoy.” He smiled, and I’ll be damned if those bright, iridescent teeth in that boyish grin weren’t a bit charming, fangs notwithstanding. The yellow eyes were a bit disconcerting, but they complemented the purple scales well enough. Top it off with that sexy black hair that fell into his eyes, and …
Well, if I wasn’t married to my job and fed up with this assignment already, I might have been tempted.
I shook my head to clear it. “All I watch are procedurals and true crime shows. You’ll just think it’s boring. I can maybe see if the front desk has any magazines you could try reading. Do those nanites I’ve heard about translate written words, too?”
“Yes, but I wish to see what programs you enjoy. Please find one for us to watch.”
I grumbled a little as I took the controller from him. “Fine. But don’t go thinking we’re gonna bond over watching TV. I’m not here to be your friend; I’m here to be your warden and your guardian. Like I said before, some people think Xalanites should be hunted.”
He bowed at the waist, a gesture reminiscent of some Asian cultures. “I thank you for your protective services.”
“Oh, just sit!” I flipped the stations until I found the Truth Criminal Network and turned on whatever happened to be airing. I was trying to ignore the TV, as I had to worry about whether or not anyone had seen us check in or if anyone from the outside could see in the windows. I kept the curtains drawn and shooed N’kal away from them for his own safety.
I should have paid more attention.
“Detective Timber, where can I find a prostitute?”
My head whipped around, and I felt like my eyes were going to bulge out of my head.“What?”I shrieked.
He pointed at the TV. “The program states that prostitutes mate for money. I do not have Earth money, but once I get to Upstate New York I can have mykrinconverted to your dollars.”
Oh, my God, he’s like a dog with a bone! “N’kal, you can’t hire a prostitute. It’s illegal in most states, for one thing. For another thing, as far as I know our scientists haven’t determined if Earth STDs are transmittable to Xalanites. It’s best to steer clear of someone who has sex for money. The potential for debilitating, or at the very least extremely uncomfortable, diseases is enormous.”
N’kal crossed his muscular arms over his chest and pouted, an expression so human I almost forgot I was talking to a purple alien. “Well, you will not mate with me, and you will not allow me to go in search of a mate on my own. The prostitute in thisprogram delivered herself to a hotel to meet the Earth man. Why could we not have one delivered here?”
“Once again: illegal.”
He harumphed, but I stood firm.
“We’re not hiring you a prostitute. You can keep your dick in your pants until you get to the intake center. Then,ifthe AARO allows you to stay—and that’s a big if considering you’re here illegally already—you might have a chance to meet a nice Earth girl.” I rolled my eyes and turned to my phone, checking to see if my AARO contact had messaged me. “I don’t know what your obsession with mating is. Do you guys have some kind ofpon farrthing on Xalan?”
He paused and cocked his head to the side. “That phrase is not Earthite.”
“English,” I corrected him. “And no, sorry. It’s Vulcan.”
“I am not familiar with that language.”
I sighed and stuck my phone back in my pocket. No messages yet. “It’s a fake language. From a TV show. This guy made up some fake alien races for the show, and one of the races, the Vulcans, has this thing called apon farrwhere every seven years or something they have to mate. It’s, like, an imperative.”
N’kal’s jaw gaped open. “Seven solar cycles! I could not imagine waiting that long between matings.”
I raised a brow and waved my hand at him. “So, like, how often do you usually mate?”
Not that I was curious. I really didn’t care …
He sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. “I have mated at least three times a solar cycle for the past ten cycles. Many different Xalanite females. I am quite skilled.”
