Venan: A Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance: Albaterra Mates Book 7 (The End)

by Ashley L. Hunt

  Three days later, I didn’t know anything more about his mysterious disappearance with the lurking female, and I tried not to dwell on it. It seemed reasonable to write the strange encounter with Venan off as a brief dance with a nice guy and nothing else. Plus, I was back to work in the salon, which should’ve been a great distraction from the nagging wonder in the back of my mind about the Elder and the loitering A’li-uud.

  It wasn’t.

  The thing about being a hairstylist was that it wasn’t just about styling hair. I was kind of like a bartender in that people told me everything from how their day was going to the latest love-life drama they were going through. Sometimes, usually with the clients I had repeatedly - which were all of them on Albaterra -, conversations even went so deep as politics or religion. My job required me to talk, to listen, to offer advice, to sympathize, all while washing and cutting and styling hair to the client’s preference. It wasn’t an absent-minded career, and, while there had been many an occasion I’d resented the demand for multitasking, I relished it now. It meant there wasn’t time to linger on Venan’s dismissal at the wedding.

  Somehow, though, my brain found a way to do just that regardless of what I was doing. As I trimmed split ends and listened to gossip about inter-colony relations, my mind scampered into the forbidden depths of unanswered questions.

  “—I heard she said no, but—”

  He’d said he’d asked me to dance because he wanted to even though Edie gave him the idea, so why had he just walked away without any real explanation?

  “—not my type, you know, but it’s not like I have a whole planet of men to choose from anymore—”

  Why hadn’t he come back after a little bit and apologized for leaving so abruptly?

  “—because it’s considered inappropriate, but I don’t think it really applies—”

  What was the deal with the skulking female A’li-uud, and why had he seemed so unhappy to see her?

  I was starting to venture into obsession territory. Men had come and gone from my life many times before, obviously, as I was in my mid-twenties and attractive, and some had even been briefer encounters than that which I’d shared with Venan. Never before, though, had I been so focused on wanting to know why. Maybe it was the mystery of his being an entirely different species than me, or maybe it was because he was an Elder in a position of great power and the most influential guy I’d ever dated had just owned a couple of Dunkin’ Donuts franchises across central Florida. Or maybe it was because it had been over a year since I’d done anything more with a man than grope his hair for a half-hour. Whatever the reason, the result was still the same: I wanted to understand what had happened that left me standing in the middle of dancing couples by myself.

  The door to the salon opened just as I was finishing up adding a coif to my last client of the day. I stifled a groan, wanting just to go home instead of taking care of a last-minute walk-in, but the sight of brilliantly blue skin stopped me cold in my tracks. An A’li-uud warrior in brown jodhpurs and boots with a sharp staff strapped to his back stepped in and scanned the scene before him. When his white eyes landed on me, I could almost feel their poignancy.

  “Hello,” I said uncertainly. It was the first time an A’li-uud had stepped foot into the salon to my knowledge, and he looked strange amongst the relatively Earth-like surroundings. “Can I help you?”

  His hair was waist-length and pearly just like all the other A’li-uud I ever saw, but, as I eyed it, I realized I’d never seen an A’li-uud with short hair. Because of that, it seemed unlikely he was stopping in for a haircut, but I was still going to treat him like a potential client until told otherwise.

  “You are Octavia?” he asked in choppy English.

  “Yes,” I confirmed, brushing stray hairs from my client’s neck before unsnapping the poncho draped over him and pulling it from his form. He stood and quietly thanked me, which I returned with a smile and a nod of acknowledgment, and he left. Nobody paid in the colony; everyone worked for the sake of supporting the community in its development. I looked back at the A’li-uud and inquired, “Is there something I can do for you?”

  He inclined his head, a gesture the aliens used to indicate everything from respect to greeting to approval. “Your presence has been requested at the Elder palace this evening,” he announced.

  I paused, the cape dangling from my hand like a drooping flag. “Why?” I asked dumbly.

  “Elder Venan would like you to join him for dinner,” he responded. He sounded a little affronted that I would even question the summons, but I was too stunned by his explanation to apologize.

  “He would?” I breathed. All of the air seemed to have shot out of my lungs and into the atmosphere, leaving me with no oxygen and a light, tingling brain.

  Again, the A’li-uud inclined his head, but there was definite irritation in his expression that I was not offering him a simple acceptance of the request. In my mind, the Albaterran Elders were sort of like presidents, except it was a planet of only twelve countries rather than two-hundred, so my lack of immediate obedience could have easily been interpreted as disrespectful.

  “Okay,” I finally said. “I mean, yes, I’ll be there. What time?”

  “I will return in an hour to escort you.”

  A quick glance in the mirror to my left told me I needed more than an hour to get ready. My hair was a little frizzy from a full day of work and the Dhal’atian heat, and a light sheen of sweat was showing through my foundation. It was clear, though, I wasn’t going to get more than an hour, so I needed to make do with the time I had. “Could you pick me up at my house?” I hopefully queried. “I’d like to change and fix myself up a little before I go, being that it’s the palace and all…”

  I was offered a third head-bow, and the A’li-uud departed. There I stood alone in the salon, a poncho in one hand and a brush in the other with sixty minutes and counting to prep myself for dinner with an Elder. I felt like Cinderella being summoned to Prince Charming’s castle, except Cinderella’s hair was smooth and her dress was gorgeous, and she had little animal friends to give her a pep talk. Not to mention it had been she who ran out on Prince Charming in the middle of a dance, not the other way around.

  Even when I’d decided to leave Earth and journey to another planet an entire galaxy away, I hadn’t been so nervous.

  Chapter Seven

  Venan

  Though I had spent much of my adult life in the palace, I had not yet grown accustomed to thinking of it as my home. Everywhere I looked, I continued to see Elder Kharid. The bright colors—everything from turquoise to fuchsia to lime to tangerine to indigo—were splattered to the deepest corners of the walls, in the tapestries, as the upholstery on the innumerable poufs spread throughout each room. The same glowing geodes that had decorated Zuran’s reception tent were strung across every balcony and bordered the ceilings of the most frequented spaces, and where there were none, intricate chandeliers of vibrant mosaic glass dangled. I had been unable to bring myself to occupy the Elder’s Quarters on the palace’s third floor as it was perhaps the place most reminiscent of Elder Kharid’s spirit. But even the quainter bedroom I had instead claimed was still pungent with the aroma of smoking chaka leaves, which had been his incense of choice.

  In contrast, I had always erred on the decorative side of drab. My Ka-lik’et home prior to Elderhood was simple in both construct and appeal with little more than shelves on the walls and only furniture of necessity to fill it. Zuran had often told me my house was as colorless as my personality, and, while he had said such as a brotherly jibe, I recently found myself wondering if I indeed lacked the tweak of zest that made him so likable despite his questionable behaviors. Never had I been popular amongst the other warriors, and I was shy close to friends if I discounted my twin. On more than one occasion, I had been told I was too rigid, too cold, too unforgiving. I learned the rules of my people and adhered to them exactly, and for that, I was cast out of social circles. Yet, when I h
ad been accused of intentionally murdering Elder Kharid, the public perception of me had not improved but declined into an abyss I had not known existed. Perhaps it all crumbled down to the colorlessness Zuran jokingly attributed to me after all.

  Whatever the case, Octavia must not have agreed, for I was informed she had accepted my dinner invitation and would be arriving within the hour.

  I hoped she had not thought she was obliged to join me simply because I was an Elder, but, even if she had, I would be pleased to make the decision worth her while. One of the first experiences I truly enjoyed that felt completely unencumbered by the hovering cloud of public disapproval since taking the throne was meeting her. I could only try to ensure she felt an equal amount of pleasure in my presence as I did in hers. She was inarguably beautiful, and I was admittedly attracted to her curvaceous figure and dark sparkling eyes, but there was no doubt I also relished her company so because she emanated only kindness and goodness. The quiet condemnation I felt from virtually everyone else I encountered was completely absent in her essence, and it was as fresh a breath as the onset of a cool desert night after a sweltering day beneath the sun.

  By the time the hour struck, I was seated in the banquet-sized dining room at the head of the expansive table. Traditionally, a guest’s place was set on the opposite end, but I had requested otherwise. Thus, the setting designated to her had been neatly organized to the seat on my right. I stared at the empty plate -starkly white - upon its charger - vividly violet - with hollow nerves bundling in my gut. This human made me anxious; it mattered to me if I impressed her, and I had never cared before whether someone was impressed with me other than my militant superiors and, of course, my Elder. It was an unnerving sensation.

  The escorting warrior entered the hall first with Octavia closely on his heels. I rose from my chair at once to greet her, rounding the table and striding the length of the room toward her. My warrior’s eyebrows lifted with surprise, having expected to show her to her seat himself as was customarily done, but I wanted to put her at ease. The invitation had not been one made from an Elder to a citizen, but from me to her, and I was determined she should feel as such.

  “Good evening,” I said courteously, tilting my head to her.

  “Good evening,” she mirrored. She did not tilt her head, as humans often did not, but she smiled. It curved her lovely lips upward and enhanced the twinkle in her affable eyes. “Thank you for asking me to dinner.”

  “It is my pleasure, I assure you.” I looked to my warrior. “You are dismissed, Katil.”

  He hesitated, again shooting a glance toward her waiting chair, but I narrowed my eyes at him. With a slight bow of his chin, he turned and left the dining hall. Instantly, I was acutely aware Octavia and I were alone.

  “May I show you to your seat?” I asked.

  She nodded, and I extended my arm to her. It was a gesture I had witnessed between many of the human couples at the wedding, especially when walking, and I wished to emulate all angles of propriety to which she was accustomed. She slid her hand into the crook of my elbow, and I led her toward our unserved places.

  “You’re wearing your robes,” she noted as I helped her into her chair.

  I glanced down at myself before sidling onto my own seat. “Yes,” I said. “Elders are not required to wear them, but it is somewhat of an unspoken rule that they ought to be donned, excepting special circumstances. Do you dislike them?”

  “No,” she hastened. “You look good. They just make you look really…official.”

  She looked quite spectacular herself. Her rich locks were curled into loose waves that fell sensually to her bosom, which was adorned in a sophisticated yet form-fitting dress. I had tried not to stare when I met her at the entrance to the hall, but it had not escaped my notice that the dress clung to her hips and draped with fluttering frill to her knees. Her eyelids were coated in subtle midnight tones, and her lashes seemed longer than I remembered. She was a sultry vision of rousing suggestion and demure femininity all at once.

  “You are lovely tonight,” I intoned gently. I did not wish to sound lecherous, but it was difficult to restrain myself. Her unassuming, sweet nature mingled with her stunning appearance lured me as profoundly as any whim of ambition to climb the ranks of the Dhal’atian militia ever had. Never before had I been so impacted by another being, certainly in no romantic fashion. “Of course, you were lovely at the wedding, as well.”

  Her cheeks pinkened slightly beneath the primrose glow from the chandelier above. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  I tilted my head and turned my eyes to the plates. Our meal was due to arrive momentarily, and I found myself counting the seconds. Her company was desired, but I knew not what to say to her beyond superficial conversation.

  It seemed she was not so tongue-tied. After a beat of silence passed between us, she changed tack and approached a topic much more serious than appearances.

  “Who was the female A’li-uud you went to talk to at the reception?” she asked bluntly.

  My natural instinct was to turn her question away, to insist I was unwilling to discuss the matter, but, as I raised my eyes from the plate to her, I saw her looking back at me determinedly. Ola had been a family secret for a long time, not that the general Ka-lik’et population was unaware of her doings but rather our desire to keep her name from our lips.

  Now, I would resurrect her.

  Chapter Eight

  Octavia

  Venan’s reaction to my question seemed to be inarguable reluctance, and, though I desperately wanted to know the answer, I also didn’t want to offend him. When he didn’t respond right away, I considered apologizing and telling him to never mind my curiosity. To my relief, he spoke before I had a chance to.

  “She is my sister,” he said monotonously. “My younger sister.”

  I blinked, surprised. I hadn’t expected that. He had been so angry to see her that I’d only assumed she was an ex or an enemy of sorts, not a family member. Plus, after seeing her skulking around the reception tent during the ceremony, it didn’t seem likely she could’ve been a sibling or something equally as close in relation. Usually, sisters were invited to things like weddings. They didn’t have to lurk in the back.

  “You didn’t want her there?” I blurted, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “No,” he told me. “More importantly, Zuran did not want her there, and it was his day to make such decisions.”

  “You don’t get along?” I knew I was being nosy, but I couldn’t help myself. For whatever reason, everything I’d witnessed about the A’li-uud since arriving on Albaterra had given me the impression that they were a united race. The species as a whole seemed to support each other, citizens of the kingdoms seemed to hold neighborly affection for one another, and families seemed so closely-knit they were practically impenetrable. It was hard to imagine things like feuds between two A’li-uud at all, let alone between kin.

  He almost smiled, the corners of his slanted eyes crinkling slightly, but it was a humorless smile. “No,” he said again. “She has been exiled from the family for many, many years.”

  The unannounced arrival of our food cut my interrogation short, saving him from what would have been probably another twenty questions. I was fascinated, not because I hadn’t met anyone who held ill will toward a sibling before but because this added an entirely unprecedented layer to my perception of the A’li-uud. Strangely, the imperfection humanized them, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing but definitely a relatable one. So often, I’d felt inferior to the blue aliens. They were physically more capable than anybody in the colony, they seemed to absorb and retain knowledge like computers, and they were all ethereally beautiful in their own right. To now know they endured some of the same pains and possessed some of the same flaws as my own imperfect race was, frankly, relieving.

  I still felt like a pauper Cinderella in a handsome prince’s castle, though.

  The meal placed in front of me looked divine b
ut completely unfamiliar. I was able to identify the beige teardrop-shaped slab as an unknown meat, beneath which was a spread of citrus-scented greens. A pool of cream sprinkled with pumpkin-colored dustings surrounded the meat and veg, and a purplish garnish of something like cabbage topped the stack. The aroma swirling in the steam that rose from the dish was unlike anything I’d ever smelled before: sweet and savory and tangy and rich all at once. My mouth started watering immediately, but I didn’t reach for my utensils as I was unsure what the A’li-uud considered respectable dinner etiquette.

  “I hope you enjoy the meal,” Venan said gently once the warriors who’d served us disappeared from the room. He was looking at me with a hint of concern as if he wasn’t sure I ate A’li-uud fare.

  “It smells great,” I told him enthusiastically. I was glad to change the subject, as discussing his sister seemed like an unpleasant topic for him. Of course, I was still dying to know more, but I figured I’d exhausted my freedom to ask by now and probably shouldn’t press my luck any further. Besides, I wanted the dinner with him to be a good one. I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head for three days, and, now that he was in front of me, I wanted to make a good impression on him. Then again, I already had to some extent, or he wouldn’t have asked me to have a meal with him.

  He lifted his fork—which was actually less like a fork and more like a miniature version of those pronged sticks for marshmallow roasts—and I mimicked him. To my surprise, the moment the tines plunged into the protein, the grain of the meat separated into a neat little bite, no knife required. I raised my eyebrows, stunned. When I’d first arrived on Albaterra, I’d eaten the food brought from Earth on the journey for several weeks and slowly introduced A’li-uud cuisine into my diet at the advising of the colonists who’d already been here for a long time. Now, the only food available was A’li-uud food, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with their unusual meats and fruits and vegetables and even dairy-like products, but this was a completely different experience. Upon meeting my tongue, the forkful practically melted into a soft, blissful flavor so intense I had to close my eyes for a second.