The second reason why we aren’t more combative is that it’s simply not in our nature. We are a peaceful people. The only time in my life I’ve ever been inordinately frustrated has been these few days on Earth. I assume our government knows the sorts of trials Eleadians face on Earth—confrontations we are not accustomed to. Thus the need for perplexing rules of engagement that are baffling until we witness firsthand how humans behave.
I glance around the crowded room again. I’m tense. It’s hard not to be. The volume. The perfume. The fake smiles. The proximity. The stickiness that is all over the floor. The list is long.
I get why we draw a crowd. We’re different. People want to get a look. They take a risk in doing so, but they can’t resist.
Two females push through the gaggle gathered around me. They don’t even ask before they flank me. One of them holds up her phone and takes a quick selfie. Neither of them even look me in the eyes or attempt to talk to me. They giggle as they walk away.
Sometimes I wonder if they think they won’t get chosen if they don’t make eye contact. It doesn’t work that way, but if they want to believe it, I won’t stop them because it prevents me from having to interact more than necessary.
I’m torturing myself by standing here. I’m not interested in dancing. That’s never going to happen no matter how many females try to lure me out onto the crowded floor. I tell myself I’m doing my part for the planet by allowing myself to be a spectacle. The more photos circulate, the more females will want to come and see for themselves. I don’t really care if half of Earth sees me on their strange social media sites. Eventually I’ll be long gone.
As the minutes pass, the clientele grows more and more drunk. From what I’ve noticed the past few nights, the earlycrowd always seems to be less inebriated. Some of them simply come in, look around, stare for a few minutes, and then leave.
It’s for the best. No reason to encourage anyone to stay. As soon as one of them enters the premises—often before they get much past the doorman—it’s obvious to every Eleadian on site that they are not a match.
No female could possibly step into this crowded room undetected if she is the fated mate of an Eleadian. Perhaps if one of us had yet to descend from our apartment on one of the upper floors, but even from the control room on the second floor we would know if our mate entered the building.
So the turnover of bodies is higher earlier in the evening. Females come and go. They stare, jaws hanging. They take pictures. Many approach to touch us. Then they leave, which frees up space for others to enter the club. There’s an occupancy limit. And I’m certain the place is at capacity now.
With a sigh, I run a hand down my face, take a deep breath of nasty air, and hold it.
My gaze darts to the door every patron comes through after signing a waiver. I’m still holding my breath when I spot her. In that one second, my entire world shifts.
It’s her. My mate. My other half. The female Fate chose for me to spend centuries with.
I can’t move for long seconds as I watch her. I want to take this in, absorb this moment, and never forget it. I’ll cherish it for my entire life.
She has no idea yet. She’s not programmed to recognize our connection as fast as me. Soon she will feel it as strongly as I do, but it takes time. It’s a foreign concept to humans and difficult for them to accept.
My mate has only moved a few feet into the room. She’s alone. That’s uncommon. Often these girls come to the club ingroups or at least with one friend. My mate is not toting an entourage.
She’s scared. I know it’s not reasonable, but I feel like I can sense her elevated heart rate from here. She’s also stunning. Granted I would think so no matter what. That’s how I’m wired. After days of standing here with no reaction to any female, my cock is hard.
Brown curls hang past her shoulders. I suspect if I were to pull on one, it would extend nearly twice as long. Big brown eyes peer around the room. I get the oddest sense that her nerves have nothing to do with the fact that this is specifically Club Zoom. I don’t believe she’s used to entering a club at all.
Why are you alone, Little one?
She’s not dressed like most of these females either. She has on jeans and a navy cardigan. It’s wrapped tightly around her, so I have no idea what she might be wearing under it. Her arms are crossed below her breasts, so I can’t even discern how large her chest might be. Not that it matters to me one bit.
I hate to take my eyes off her, but I quickly glance around to see if any of the other men currently waiting to find their mates have also homed in on my Little girl. They have not. Skarg and Kafran are deep in conversation with each other.
When I shift my attention back to my mate, I find her scanning the room. I wait, wondering if she might recognize me for who I am.
Her gaze hesitates when she spots Skarg and Kafran, but only for a moment before she continues soaking in the rest of the club until finally spotting me. She freezes.
For several long seconds, we stare at each other. Her huge brown eyes widen, and her lips part. She’s not simply stunned to see an Eleadian for the first time because she could have lingered longer watching Skarg or Kafran. No, some part of her recognizes me for who I am.
I smile at her over the heads of all the other females in the club.
She takes a step back toward the entrance.
This is my cue to move away from my perch at the bar. I take long strides in her direction, grateful that the crowd parts. They’re probably as curious about my actions as my girl is.
Suddenly she turns around and bolts toward the door. She’s not fast enough, though. It’s also helpful that three females are coming in at the same moment, blocking her from exiting.
Before she can get past them, I reach her. My hands come to her shoulders, and I ease her back so that she’s flattened against my front.
Heavens, she feels so good in my arms. Right. The chaos around me dissolves as I focus every ounce of my attention on my Little girl. Her scent is intoxicating now that I’m closer.
