“This is like a who’s who of who’s hot,” Chelsea said, looking round at the many recognisable faces.
“I know,” Angela said. “It’s good for getting funding for the programs - not just the DNA Match Program, but medical ones as well. There are all sorts of initiatives, but nobody is talking about anything but the Match Program.”
“It’s probably the most newsworthy,” Chelsea said.
“And it’s the one they’re pushing hardest. Prince Cael thinks that if the Match program gets off the ground, everything else will start to fall into place. He says he’s seen it before - populations of planets integrated into the Intergalactic Community really quickly once people start Matching up.”
“So you’re not just getting amazing sex, you’re helping to orchestrate peace in our time?” Chelsea gave her a grin. “You always were an overachiever.”
“I’m just trying to help them understand things from a Human perspective. The Peace in Our Time can be someone else’s quarterly target.”
Angela realised she was talking about Prince Cael’s job offer as if she’d already taken it. Had her heart settled on the idea while her head still mulled it over?
“Heads up,” Chelsea said, nudging her with an elbow. “Incoming alien hotness.”
Angela turned to see Randar walking over to them. He was wearing his usual bodyguard clothes, black shirt and trousers, both form fitting enough to show off his figure without constricting his movement. Heavy boots, utility belt - he looked every bit the Randar Angela had seen on television, guarding Prince Cael against a mob. Except the smile that lit up his face. That was just for her and it made Angela’s insides melt.
“You look stunning,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. Angela knew from the way his scales glowed orange across his cheeks that he wanted to do much more. “I can’t stay long, I need to get back to Cael. But I wanted to come over and see you, and meet your friend.”
“This is Chelsea,” Angela said.
“Thank you for being here to keep Angela company,” Randar said, as he shook Chelsea’s hand. “I hope we get a better chance to speak soon.”
“Likewise,” Chelsea said. “Nice party.”
Randar’s scales dimmed to yellow. “Not my favourite way to spend an evening, but I hope you enjoy it.”
“I think we know what his favourite way to spend an evening is,” Chelsea said, once Randar was back by Prince Cael’s side.
“Drinking wine and talking, obviously,” Angela said, looking to Chelsea and waiting for her verdict.
“He’s obviously crazy about you,” her friend said. “The way he looked at you when he was walking over, like you were the only light in a dark room.”
A warmth bloomed in Angela’s chest, a deep happiness that filled her too bursting.
“I really, really like him, Chels,” she said. “I know it’s crazy. He’s an alien, and I’ve known him less than a week, but… I don’t know. It just feels so right.”
“Maybe the Match Program really does work,” Chelsea said.
“I’m beginning to think it really does.”
Chelsea sipped on her champagne and watched Randar as he walked across the room, her expression thoughtful.
“Well, my first impressions are good. He definitely has a commanding presence, but he doesn’t come across as intimidating,” she said. “He ought to, he’s a big guy.”
“In every way that counts,” Angela said, making Chelsea snort with laughter.
Chelsea decided that it wouldn’t be a party worth remembering unless they at least tried to have a conversation with Jensen Sanders, so they whiled away much of the evening trying to find an in through the crowds of people constantly surrounding him.
“Do you think you could convince Randar he’s a security risk,” Chelsea said, sipping at what had to be her sixth champagne. Angela had been keeping pace with her, and felt pleasantly merry, happiness and alcohol mixing in a way that left her feeling dreamy and content.
“And what, that you need to be the chief interrogator?” Angela said with a laugh.
“I may have gone into business law as my specialism, but I did study criminal law. I could totally do an interrogation.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
The two of them were laughing together, completely absorbed in their conversation about what questions they’d pose to Jensen Sanders, so Angela didn’t notice Andrew Carter approaching until he was right next to them, smug smile fixed in place. Chelsea gave him a surprised look, but flashed him a smile. Her reflexive, work smile. Beautiful in its own way, but lacking the warmth that Chelsea showed to people she cared about. Angela glanced round the room, looking for Randar, but turned back to Carter before she found him, not wanting to be rude.
“We meet again,” Carter said, smiling like they’d bumped into each other by chance, not that he’d approached her purposely. The smile on his face made Angela’s stomach turn.
“Are you enjoying the party, Mr Carter?” Angela forced the words out of her mouth, though her tongue had gone dry. Chelsea shot her a questioning look.
“Always plenty to enjoy about these gatherings,” Carter said, looking round with the air of a lord surveying his manor. “And I am most delighted to have another opportunity to talk to you.”
Angela resisted the shudder that threatened to rip through her.
“I’m sure there are far more interesting people here than me,” she said, trying to angle herself away from him. Chelsea, recognising Angela’s discomfort, stepped closer to her, putting a hand to her arm, ready to steer her away. Angela felt a rush of love for her friend who could always anticipate her needs.
“I’m not sure I’d agree with that, Angela,” Carter said.
His words drew Angela up short. She’d never given him her name.
“You are Angela, aren’t you? Angela Parker. Daughter of Michael and Rose Parker, latter died in a car accident when you were only five, former currently in America with his much younger girlfriend. Paid for your flat though. I suppose that stops him feeling too guilty about abandoning you.”
Chelsea’s scowl grew deeper with every word he said, while a cold horror spread from Angela’s stomach throughout her body.
“And what methods, exactly, did you use to find that information?” Chelsea said. “Because I doubt that’s all available through legal channels.”
Carter waved a dismissive hand. “When you have the means, you can find almost anything,” he said. “I simply paid a private detective to do a bit of digging.”
“Why?” Angela said, cutting in before Chelsea could erupt, her friend’s seething rage obvious on her face.
“Why?” Carter looked surprised. “Because I wanted to understand you, Angela. I wanted to know what would possess a woman to sign up for the Match program. So I looked into you and found someone utterly unremarkable. Maybe some abandonment issues thanks to Daddy dearest, but you’ve got a nice flat, a good job, friends. Your love life is a little lacking, but you’re not over the hill just yet.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Angela could see Randar approaching them with as much haste as he could manage without causing a stir. Angela felt relief flood her. He would get rid of Carter, report him to Prince Cael’s security team for what he’d done. There would be recriminations. Angela wouldn’t have to worry about the slime ball any more.
“Mostly, you’re boring,” Carter continued, warming to his theme now. “No debt, no regrettable incidents, no brushes with the law. A safe, middle of the road kind of person. You’re not the sort of person who would do something as risky as signing up for the Match Program. So I looked in to that.”
The relief she’d felt deserted her in an instant.
“And do you know what I found?” Carter said, clearly enjoying tormenting her. “Vindication. Because you didn’t sign up for the Match Program, did you, Angela? It was your friend here, signing you up without your knowledge, or your consent. Her ‘stupid drunk brain’ thought it was a
good idea, and you’ve been forced to go along with it, haven’t you?”
Angela couldn’t look at Carter as he took a step closer to her, but over his shoulder she saw something far worse than his smug grin. Randar, stopped dead in the middle of the crowd, having heard every word Carter said.
Chapter 13
RANDAR’S HEAD THROBBED, THE POUNDING OF his own heartbeat the only sound he could hear as he watched Andrew Carter smirk at Angela, then swagger off. He knew Carter was a poisonous individual, but even as his rational brain tried to hold on to that thought, the rest of his mind kept repeating the same thought over and over.
She didn’t sign up for the program.
She didn’t sign up for him.
He knew it was true from the way the colour drained out of her face. Humans didn’t show their emotions in their colours as precisely as Karrathun, but they did pale at shock, or bad news. Or a difficult truth.
Angela hadn’t wanted to be Matched.
The sting of it was sharp, a blade straight to the heart. All through courting her, he’d thought of her willingness to sign up like a mantra. When she’d been difficult to reach, he’d taken solace in the fact that she wanted to take a chance on her Match.
But it wasn’t her choice. Someone else had made that decision for her.
A pain throbbed at Randar’s temple as he turned away from Angela, heading back across the floor the way he’d come. He had to get out of the room, away from all the Humans. The conniving, deceptive Humans. Nothing was ever straight with them. Not even his beautiful Angela.
He ducked through the door into the staff area, where Tarkken was sitting in front of a bank of monitors with one of the Human security team. He looked up at Randar, then leaned over to the Human and said something to him. Whatever it was, the Human cleared off pretty quick.
“I’m on duty, so I’m not coming out from behind this desk,” Tarkken said. “But I saw that little march across the room - what’s the problem?”
Randar rubbed a hand over his face, the red and yellow glow of his scales reflecting on his palm.
“Angry and sad, right?” Tarkken said, glancing up at him. “What did she say?”
“She didn’t sign up for the program,” Randar said. “Her friend signed her up without telling her.”
Tarkken frowned. “The Humans don’t safeguard against things like that?”
“Apparently not.”
The frown deepened to a scowl. “I’m starting to think paying a ‘sign-up’ fee to the clinics was a bad idea, no matter what the sales team say. Can you stop pacing? And stop projecting so much, you’re giving me a headache.”
Randar took a few steps back. Tarkken’s range for reading emotions was fortunately not large.
“You don’t appear to have much sympathy for my predicament,” he said.
Tarkken rolled his eyes. “Oh no, you have a Match, such hardship. So what if she didn’t sign up. If she hadn’t wanted to come, she’d have kicked off in the clinic and we’d have had a whole PR mess to deal with. She might not have chosen to take the test, but she chose to go through with the process, didn’t she?”
“Did she? Or was she forced by Humans looking for their ‘sign-up’ fee?” Randar said.
“Don’t you think you should be asking her that instead of acting like a butt hurt idiot?”
Randar raised an eyebrow. “Butt hurt?”
“It’s a phrase that Humans use - means overreacting. I rather like it,” Tarkken said, not looking up from his monitors.
“You’ve been spending too much time on the Human internet.”
“Probably true.” Tarkken looked over to him after a moment. “I will put some procedures in place to make sure this doesn’t happen again. But, Randar, this is hardly the end of the world. You just need to have another one of your talks.”
Randar scowled. “Do you have to be so practical and calm?”
“Part of the job description, I’m afraid. Though normally in relation to security issues, not emotional crises.” Tarkken fixed him an unimpressed look. “Get back out there and speak to her. And do it quickly so you can get back to your duty.”
Randar took a deep breath, releasing his broiling emotions with it. Perhaps Tarkken was right, perhaps he was being ‘butt hurt’. Angela hadn’t told him about how she’d come to be in the program, and from the look on her face when she realised he’d overheard, she hadn’t wanted to.
Perhaps because she feared you’d act like this.
A new sensation entered the mix of emotions. Guilt edged with shame. Angela had told him of her insecurities, that she’d been let down over and over again by previous suitors. And now he’d walked away.
He had no intention of walking away permanently, but Angela didn’t know that.
This thought had him marching back towards the gala, filled with an urgent need to be near her, to kiss her and tell her it didn’t matter. Nothing did, except how they felt about each other.
He pushed the door open into the crowded room. His size had a way of clearing a path, but Randar wasn’t sure where he was heading. He scanned the people before him, looking for Angela’s distinctive blonde hair. He spotted her tucked away in the corner of the room, stood with her tiny friend, Chelsea. Randar could only hope the two women weren’t talking about how awful he was, that Chelsea wasn’t trying to persuade Angela that he wasn’t worth her time.
He could own his mistakes. And he’d come round pretty fast - with a bit of help from Tarkken. Things would be fine as soon as he got to her.
He started heading in her direction, the crowd parting before him like water. The Humans looked up at him, something like awe and fear in their eyes. The Intergalactic Community knew him for his job, and got out of his way as a professional courtesy, assuming he had places to be. And he did. As soon as he had spoken to Angela, he’d resume his place watching over Cael.
He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, two groups of Humans approaching Angela’s location from opposite sides of the room in a sort of pincer movement. Pushing his way through the crowd would cause an undue panic - everyone in the room had been searched before entering, and couldn’t have any weapons, so these people were no danger to Angela. Not in the typical way anyway. But Randar sensed menace in the way they moved so purposefully towards her. He wished he could reach her in time to be at her side before they reached her.
But he was too far away. His momentary idiocy meant he wasn’t by Angela’s side to stand with her when she might need him. He was going to have a lot of making up to do.
He got close enough to hear the words of the first Human as they reached her.
“You’re Angela Parker, aren’t you?” they said, all smiles and malice. “The first successful Human-Alien Match?”
Angela’s eyes narrowed, her fists clenched at her sides. “I think they prefer the term ‘Intergalactic Community’.”
The woman waved her off. “You’re being lauded as an example to Humanity, but tell me, why should we follow your example when you didn’t even sign up for the program to start with?”
Standing just off to the right, Andrew Carter smirked as he watched the scene unfold. Randar wanted to punch his smug little face.
“I never claimed to be a role model,” Angela said. Chelsea was beside her, bristling, but keeping quiet. Randar wondered why until he saw Angela’s hand raised slightly, holding her back.
“Maybe not, but you’ll be used as one. Don’t you think that’s just a little disingenuous. You’re a fake. This isn’t something you chose.”
The crowd around Randar had stilled, turning their attention to Angela and the woman harassing her. As they all stopped moving, Randar lost his chance to make forward progress towards Angela without drawing more attention. Marooned in the middle of the crowd, he could only watch.
“I suppose it depends on what you consider to be the limit of my choice,” Angela said. “Did I choose to sign up for the program? No. But I chose to go through with the Match
when I found out I had one. I would have been within my rights to refuse to do so, but I didn’t.”
“Why not?” The other group of Humans had arrived on her other side, the ambush sprung. The speaker - a male with thinning hair and a paunch - sneered at Angela. “Why would you want to be married off to an Alien, someone not even the same species as you?”
“Because there are so many fine Human men, right?” Chelsea said, her tone sharp as razors.
Angela put a placating hand on her friend’s arm.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Angela said to the man. “What I do in my private life is not your business.”
“Your private life is public interest if you’re fucking an alien,” he said.
Randar knew his scales were burning blue. The crowd seemed to sense the waves of anger spilling from him, stepping back. He moved, wanting to protect his woman from these Djvorit. But before he took more than two steps, Angela straightened her back, turning to face the staring crowd.
“That’s what you all want to know, right? Am I fucking my Match? Is it weird? How does it even work?” Her voice rang out clear, a slight tremor at its edges, her emotion contained for now, but threatening to overflow. “All these years and Humanity still hasn’t learned a simple lesson - that what a woman chooses to do with her body is her own damn business and nobody else’s.”
A good portion of the crowd looked away, cowed. Angela could have stopped there and still claimed the victory, but like that night in bed together, when she’d confessed her fears to him, it was as if the words couldn’t stop once she’d started speaking them.
“And while I’ve got your attention, no I didn’t sign up for the Match program. That was Chelsea here. She did it on my behalf. It wasn’t right and she shouldn’t have done it, but in her crazy drunk way, she had my best interests at heart, and I forgave her as soon as she asked me to.
Randar (Intergalactic Soulmates Book 1) Page 10