Randar (Intergalactic Soulmates Book 1)

by Annabelle Rex

  Defined arms matched his impressive chest, chords of muscle visible in his forearms as he clenched and unclenched his fists, as if not quite sure what to do with his hands. He had a military bearing - straight backed and alert - but paired with the exactly the sort of rough edges that Angela liked in a man. Casual clothes accentuated his build, a black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest, and black trousers that hugged his pert backside. The markings on his scalp that she’d seen on the photo extended across his neck and round his eyes. They weren’t tattoos - they appeared to be scales, and they shimmered, iridescent at first before settling on a soft orange glow as he looked her up and down. His yellow eyes tracked over her body, a raw, searching look that ought to have made her feel uncomfortable. Instead, she felt a familiar pull in her stomach, the beginnings of sexual need.

  “Hi,” she said, forcing the word out of her suddenly dry mouth.

  “Hi,” her Match replied.

  Chapter 5

  HE TRIED TO SAY MORE, BUT his mouth had gummed up. Randar Cresli, hand selected bodyguard to Prince Cael, third most senior member of the expedition to Earth after Tarkken and Cael himself, had been rendered speechless at the sight of a Human woman.

  Randar had to marvel at the variety of the Human race. Walking over to the waiting room to meet her, Randar had started to worry that his size would be intimidating to Angela. Most Humans he’d met were in line with Universal averages when it came to size - tiny compared to Randar’s bulk. And women tended to be smaller. He’d seen Human women who barely came up to his chest. Dainty, fragile looking things. He didn’t want a Match he was afraid he could snap.

  Cael would have told him to have faith in the program, but Cael was Allortasian. His kind invented the program. Having faith in it was necessary for him. And Randar did have faith in it - enough to sign up without hesitation as soon as he reached adulthood. He just never thought he’d find his Match among Humanity.

  As soon as he’d opened the door and set eyes on her, though, the flutters of doubt dissipated, the headache that had been building all afternoon vanished. She was small, yes, but not tiny, and definitely not dainty. She had a solid build, good bones beneath her sensual curves. The picture hadn’t done her any kind of justice - that flat two-dimensional image not capturing the way her hair settled around her shoulders when she turned, or the slight pinking of her cheeks as she looked at him, or the way her mouth parted, her tongue darting across her lips, making Randar want to crush his mouth to hers. Randar knew his scales had to be pulsing deep orange right now, but it was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to hold her perfect body against his, to breathe in the smell of her hair and feel the soft touch of her skin.

  But standing in silence, gawping at her was not a great way to start a relationship, so Randar took a calming breath and tried words again.

  “Welcome to the Station,” he said, his voice just a little raspy. He cleared his throat and continued, “Let me take you to our quarters.”

  Our. The word felt strange on his lips. Strange, but good. Our. He could definitely get used to this.

  “Okay,” Angela said.

  She folded her arms over her chest and seemed to shrink as she followed him. Randar frowned. He’d been around other species enough to learn about body language - an entirely unnecessary thing to understand in a race where your emotions played out in colours on your face - but he didn’t know how to interpret Human. Generally, arms folded meant one of two things - anger or fear - but why was she feeling either? She had no cause to be afraid of him, and he hadn’t done anything that could have made her angry. Had he?

  Perhaps there was some custom among Humans when they met partners that he had failed to observe. Cultural etiquette was tricky where two different species were concerned. Randar’s people were a straightforward sort. When you could read what someone else was feeling in their colours, subterfuge became pointless. But Humans could say, do and think three different things at the same time. How was he supposed to know what the truth of the situation was?

  It wasn’t a long walk from the medical facility to the residential areas, but the silence made it feel eternal. Randar resisted the urge to massage his throbbing temples, the headache back with avengeance, and scrambled frantically for something to say. He arrived at his door before anything was forthcoming.

  “This is us,” he said, gesturing to the door, then swiped his wrist against the lock, causing it to slide open.

  At least his quarters here on the station were decent. Unlike a lot of the other personnel, he had a suite. Bedroom, bathroom, living quarters with a small kitchenette. For a space station, it was luxurious. Decadently large.

  Angela hesitated at the door a moment, but entered, heading straight across the room to the window on the far side of the living area. It didn’t give the best view, being on the side looking out into space, rather than looking down on Earth. But, occasionally, they got a view of Earth’s moon.

  Randar shut the door, kicking off his shoes. He stretched, trying to relax in this space where he should have been most comfortable, but a tension had set in between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t shift and his head felt like someone was hammering inside it. He walked over to where Angela was standing, not getting too close, but trying not to put any distance between them.

  “This must be a lot for you,” he said. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

  Angela looked to him, chewing on her bottom lip. Maybe it was a gesture to indicate unease or uncertainty, Randar wasn’t sure, but the way it drew attention to her mouth just made him think about kissing her again.

  “The medical staff said you’re important,” Angela said. “What do you do?”

  Randar relaxed some. This he could talk about easily. “I’m on the security team for Prince Cael.”

  “The guy with blue hair?” Angela asked.

  “Yes.”

  She nodded, and Randar felt a twinge of anxiety. She wasn’t one of the fan girls, was she? Cael apparently had a mix of personality and looks that many Human women found appealing.

  “Is that dangerous?” she asked.

  Randar debated how honest to be before mentally giving himself a kick. This was his Match, he should be honest with her.

  “It can be,” he said. “There are a lot of Humans who aren’t… happy about us being here. But I’m very highly trained and good at what I do.”

  “Which is why you get the nice rooms?” Angela asked, gesturing round at the apartment.

  “It’s one of the perks of the job, yes.”

  Silence fell thick and heavy between them again. Randar grasped around his mind for something else to say.

  “There isn’t a spare room,” Angela said.

  “Why would I need one?” Randar said.

  Angela scowled, and even without colours, Randar could tell she wasn’t pleased, her annoyance radiating from her.

  “Well, I hope you don’t think I’m just going to jump into bed with you because some, some algorithm said so,” she said. “I don’t even know anything about you.”

  The throbbing behind Randar’s eyes turned sharp, a knife of pain slicing into his brain. He took a deep breath.

  “You can ask me anything you like,” he said, gesturing to the armchairs. “Why don’t we sit?”

  But Angela didn’t move.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked.

  To feel your skin against mine. Randar didn’t speak his first thought aloud, sensing it wouldn’t go down well.

  “You’re my Match,” he said instead.

  “So people keep telling me,” Angela said.

  What was that supposed to mean? The headache had spread all across his skull and Randar couldn’t think any more.

  “You don’t sound so pleased about that,” he said, the words out before he could consider them fully.

  Angela took a step back, her arms tight around her chest still. “It’s a lot to get used to. Back home I don’t share my spa
ce with anyone, and now I have to live with you?”

  “I have to live with you, too,” Randar said, anger getting the better of him. “This is my suite.”

  “I didn’t ask to be brought here.”

  “You took the test!”

  Something in Angela’s expression darkened, and Randar felt the last of his patience evaporate. He stood, going into his bedroom. He grabbed a change of clothes, then went to the door, slipping back into his shoes.

  “What are you doing?” Angela said.

  “You can stay here tonight,” he said. “I won’t return until after my shift tomorrow. Is that sufficient time for you to get used to things?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to answer - just left and didn’t look back.

  Cael said nothing when Randar reported for duty the next morning, which Randar appreciated. He didn’t say anything, in fact, until the two of them were alone on the shuttle heading down to Earth.

  “Garrix is very dull,” he said. “Selfishly, I’m glad to see you back this morning.”

  Randar only grunted in response, his mind still on Angela and the way he’d just walked out.

  “Tarkken told me you slept on his floor last night,” Cael said, then, gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It didn’t go well with Angela,” Randar admitted. “I don’t understand Humans. They can’t be straightforwards about anything.”

  Cael’s expression was sympathetic. “They’re young,” he said. “We can’t hold them to the same standards as the rest of the Intergalactic Community. We probably should have left them a few more decades to work through their own issues, but the Allortasian Council was of the view that there was as high a chance that they’d all destroy each other as figure things out.”

  Randar could believe that. He’d seen it in the way the two different crowds could face off against each other from either side of the roads he and Cael had been driven down. And all these countries, each with a different agenda. Today they were somewhere in the southern hemisphere. Hotter than where they’d been yesterday, but he knew that weather systems and animals weren’t the only differences between the countries. Some were wealthier than others and had a better standard of living. Some had strong religious leanings, while others didn’t. Some had left politicians and some had right. Randar wasn’t quite sure what this meant, but the two sides didn’t see eye to eye. Human politics seemed to be a lot of blaming the other side for problems and not a lot of working together to solve them.

  Wherever they went, though, there were ‘resistance groups’. Humans against their presence. The leader of this nation, Randar had forgotten what it was called, had warned them that the resistance movement was particularly strong in their country. Cael liked the leader - found them one of the more reasonable of the Earth leaders - but Randar didn’t like the tension in the air as they left their shuttle and got in the car that would take them to their destination. Even at the shuttle launch pad, there were people gathered, rattling the fences and shouting abuse.

  “Meeting your Match isn’t always a simple process,” Cael said. “There are so many emotions at play. Especially, I imagine, when there’s a Human involved. But you can fix this.”

  Randar grimaced, remembering the way Angela had closed around herself further and further as they’d argued. He’d behaved poorly towards her, he knew that. No excuse about misunderstanding her or being worried about his work was good enough.

  “You can fix this,” Cael repeated. “You just need to apologise. Properly. Sincerely. I’ve been doing a lot of study of Human culture, and it looks like Human women appreciate small tokens to go with an apology. Flowers, or jewellery.”

  “To buy their favour back?” Randar raised his eyebrows.

  Cael shrugged. “Everyone likes nice things, I suppose it’s just a sweetener. Get her something she would like, then tell her you’re sorry.”

  “How am I supposed to know what she likes?”

  “You’re Matched, Randar, you’re supposed to be perfect for each other. You should have an instinct about these things.”

  Which, Randar thought, was very easy for someone who only had the marketing material for the program to speak from. Cael wasn’t Matched, he’d never been through this process himself. Although, Randar couldn’t be too annoyed at him. Cael could talk to anyone, he probably wouldn’t have any trouble relating to his Match if he were to find them.

  He might not have had an instinct for Angela, but Randar had one for trouble. He could tell the moment that they stepped out of the car that things were going to go bad. The air fizzed with something like electricity. Bristling energy seethed from the crowds as they surged forwards towards the barricades. The police officers were stationed at even intervals like before, but they didn’t appear cool and confident here. For the first time on a trip to Earth, Randar slipped his tools from his belt. Cael noticed the motion, and slowed his pace to walk beside Randar.

  The first missile was a rock, or perhaps a bit of brick. Randar raised his energy shield, activating it with a flick, the object bouncing harmlessly off it. The Human police, to their credit, had jumped into the fray that was starting on the other side of the barricade, forcing the crowds back and trying to locate the worst offenders. But they were hopelessly outnumbered. More missiles flew over them, most not coming anywhere close to Randar and Cael, but the intention was definitely there.

  And then there was a gap in the line of officers, and the crowd started spilling through. Randar gripped his shield in one hand and activated his stunblade. It wasn’t the most advanced weapon in his arsenal, and a close combat one at that, but it had the benefit of looking really - as Humans would put it - badass. It was a weapon that had a way of convincing people not to go against it, just for how it looked. The blade arcing out from the handle, electricity crackling along its length, stopped the Humans in their tracks.

  Randar smiled at the approaching Humans and gave them his best ‘try me’ look.

  Chapter 6

  ANGELA FELT A BIT RIDICULOUS THE next morning, pushing the armchair she’d dragged to block the front door back to its place. Randar hadn’t returned in the night, staying away as he said he would. She had visions of him storming back in, throwing her out instead. It was his home, after all. But he’d been true to his word, and Angela felt a little bad that she’d imagined he wouldn’t.

  She’d paced around the apartment a little while after he left, burning off her frustration and anger until all that remained was a sense of hollowness. She left her house with Chelsea a little before lunch time, and between the clinic, the shuttle transport, the medical procedures, most of the afternoon and part of the evening had passed. Besides the couple of coffees and toast, she hadn’t had anything to eat, and her hangover hadn’t loosed its claws in her brain. Figuring that if she was supposed to live with Randar, then she was probably also expected to eat his food, she went into his kitchen, but nothing in any of the cupboards was recognisable to her. Not wanting to poison herself any further, she’d given up on the idea of food and gone to bed, pausing only to barricade the door.

  Now, fully rested and hangover free, Angela surveyed the kitchen. There had to be an instruction manual of some sort somewhere. If not, she’d just sniff everything until she found something vaguely appetising.

  She rummaged through the cupboards, picking up all the things she scanned over last night, giving them a more thorough examination. Her stomach grumbled, and everything was a temptation. At last, she found what looked like crackers, and took them out, putting them down on the side.

  I wouldn’t advise having those first thing in the morning, a voice said, making Angela jump and nearly fall over backwards.

  “Who’s there?” she called, spinning round, but the apartment was still empty.

  I’m Trix, the house AI, the voice answered. You’re Angela Parker. Tarkken H’Arran forwarded me your details when you were Matched with Randar so I could program the apartment to allow you access.

>   “You scared the hell out of me,” Angela said, looking up at the ceiling for something to direct her words to. Talking to nothing felt… weird.

  I apologise, Angela Parker.

  “That’s okay.” Angela picked up the box of crackers. “Why don’t I want to eat these first thing?”

  It turned out the crackers were very spicy. Not the sort of thing to quench hunger. But Trix directed Angela towards some more suitable items in the fridge and before long she had a plate full of food in front of her. It occurred to her as she started shovelling the food in, that she had no idea what any of it was, but hunger was the loudest voice in her head and everything that passed her lips tasted incredible. It didn’t take long before the plate was empty again.

  “Trix?” she said. “How do I wash up?”

  Over here, Angela Parker, the AI replied, one of the cupboards sliding open.

  Angela loaded her plate and cutlery into what looked like a dishwasher. Hunger taken care of, Angela’s next priority was a shower. She didn’t have a change of clothes, but her hair felt lank and greasy, and a shower was a good place to think. She needed a good think about things.

  She’d slept in Randar’s bed last night. Because there had been nowhere else for her to sleep and because she’d been annoyed and didn’t want to be uncomfortable when she could have his bed, because he stormed off, and if he was happy for her to sleep in his bed with him, then why shouldn’t he be happy for her to sleep in it without him?

  He’d obviously not changed the sheets fresh that day, for the covers were rumpled when she entered his room. As she pulled them around her, she caught his scent on them, masculine and, honestly, delicious. His scent must have triggered her subconscious, because she dreamed of him sweeping her into his arms and kissing her and… other things. Now she was stuck wondering what it would have been like if she’d just let him stay.