Above the Storm: Silverstar Mates (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Lea Kirk

  The rap of knuckles against her front door drew a groan from deep inside. Guess Kevin wasn’t finished talking. Once an idiot….

  No, no, no. She’d sworn she’d never treat anyone the way Kevin had treated her, and that promise had included Kevin. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give him a piece of her mind.

  She stomped toward the door, grasped the knob, and yanked the door open. “Why, Kevin? Why can’t you just…? Ohh.”

  Man-nipples. She was looking at man-nipples, not Kevin’s face. How…unexpected.

  A vaguely nutmeggy scent floated on the subtle evening breeze as she tipped her head back…and back, and back. Her gaze roved over the leather straps across the smooth, bare chest, until she met the piercing ice-blue gaze of her rather enormous…and ridiculously handsome…visitor. The guy had to be pushing seven feet; too tall to pass through her doorway without ducking.

  And his hair—which wasn’t really hair, it was thin, sleeked-back feathers that ran over his head from a widow’s peak back—looked a lot like a bald eagle’s, with more varying shades of gray than white.

  “Good evening, Ms. Donahue.” Her ridiculously handsome visitor had a ridiculously deep and sexy voice. The kind of voice that reached out and caressed her in all the places she hadn’t been caressed in, well, way too long. And never properly.

  A subtle motion drew her attention to something big, silver, and feathery behind his broad shoulders.

  Her breath hitched in her chest. “OhdearGod!”

  She slammed the door.

  Breathe, Robbi. Breathe.

  But the guy has wings!

  Honest-to-God wings. What was she going to do with this?

  Help…she needed help. “Meryl!”

  Yes, Meryl would know what to do. She rushed to the sofa, grabbed her purse, and hurried into the dining room. The safest place during an earthquake was under a table. This wasn’t an earthquake, but her proverbial foundation had been shaken, so under the table was as good as anything for a hiding place.

  Once under the piece of sturdy oak furniture, she dug her hands into her purse, fumbling for her phone. Where…there. She closed her hand around the piece of hard plastic and drew out the device.

  Several call and text alerts popped up on the screen. Darn you, Kevin.

  Her hands trembled with the shock of adrenaline blasting through her.

  “Focus, girl. Push Contacts…good. Now, M…. There’s Meryl.” She stabbed at her friend’s number and raised the phone to her ear.

  “Hey, chick-a-roo.” Meryl’s cheery voice failed to induce the calm Robyn so desperately needed. “Are we still Wining tonight? Kit-Kat is here.”

  My daughter is there? That was good. She needed numbers, a show of force. “Meryl.” The hoarse whisper didn’t even sound like her voice. “There’s a thirty-foot man at my front door.”

  “A thirty-foot…. Ohh, hon-neeeey.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop thinking about the size of his…his…his….”

  “His dick?”

  “Auntie!” Kathy’s shocked voice carried over the receiver.

  It was all for show, of course. No one could have Meryl as a godmother and not have learned a thing or two about dirty words.

  “His…penis.” Robyn forced the word through her teeth. Only Meryl could one-track a conversation so fast. “This is serious.”

  “So am I.” Meryl sounded more gleeful than serious.

  “Okay. Okay, fine. He’s not actually thirty-feet, but he is taller than my front door.”

  “Shit, Robyn, what are you waiting for? Drag him inside!”

  “No, no, stop it. Meryl, he has wings.” Beautiful gray, mottled wings.

  Her fingers twitched at the thought of their softness—because they would be soft, of course.

  “You’re not talking about buffalo wings for dinner, are you?”

  “No. Humongous, real-life, wings.” She gave her free hand a wave, for no apparent reason since no one was there to see it. “Sprouting from his back.”

  “Leathery, or feathery?”

  “Feathery, like an angel’s.” More like a bird of prey’s really. A larger-than-life bird of prey’s.

  “So, there’s an ‘angel’ at your front door.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” A wild thought popped into her mind. She cupped her hand over the speaker and her mouth. “Like Lucifer.”

  “You mean the guy from the T.V. show?”

  “No. He’s like thirty years older than that.” Steady, Robbi. “Meryl, what if it’s Lucifer?”

  Meryl’s burst of laughter came from the itty-bitty phone speaker. Great. But in all fairness, the thought had sounded more plausible in her head. Once put into words, it sounded crazy. She sounded crazy.

  “What’s going on, Auntie?”

  “Sh, Kit-Kat. Wait a minute. Robyn?”

  “I’m still here.” Still need help.

  “That makes no sense. You’ve led the most squeaky-clean life imaginable. If Lucifer was going to show up on anyone’s doorstep, it’d be mine before it’d be yours, don’tcha think?”

  She had a point. “Probably.”

  “You know that’s true, Ms. I-Don’t-Cuss.” Meryl sighed. “Listen, could he be your off-world match from Silverstar?”

  The sensation of puzzle pieces clicking into place in her brain was almost audible. “W-wouldn’t they have called or texted me first?”

  “Maybe they sent him as a surprise?”

  “Do they do that?”

  Meryl made a small laugh sound. “I don’t know, honey. Why don’t you ask the angel on your doorstep?”

  Well, duh. Why didn’t she think of that?

  Because you’re a crazy old lady. The only thing missing were cats, and that was because she was allergic.

  Robyn said good-bye to Meryl with a promise to call her back shortly, then stared at her phone’s screen.

  Oh, for goodness sake. Somewhere in the middle of the seventeen texts and calls from Kevin, Nixy Vogel from Silverstar had texted her. Yes, her match had been made, and his bio was attached. Yes, he had arrived on Earth already, and would contact her once he was settled into his suite. No, Robyn was under no obligation to agree to a date unless she was comfortable with doing so.

  There was even a head shot of the guy—Kyzel Raptorclaw from Bezchi. His home world was a long-time member of the Galactic Alliance of Planets, and they’d just begun working on a trade treaty with Earth—in Los Angeles of all places, a short trip down the freeway distance-wise.

  She pushed her glasses up higher on her nose and peered through the magnification lenses. Yep, a bit of his feathery wings showed behind his head. And the widow’s peak just added to his general gorgeousness, that was for darn sure.

  And I left all that standing on my front porch, visible to every last single woman in the neighborhood?

  She scrambled out from under her dining table, gave her blouse a tug to make sure it was straight, and hurried her hiney in the direction of her front door. Hopefully slamming the door in his face wasn’t an insult on his planet.

  Here goes nothing.

  Or everything. Her heart gave a mad flutter of giddy anticipation. The sense that her life was about to completely and irrevocably change settled over her. She grasped the doorknob, turned, and pulled the door open…

  …to an empty porch.

  No one—alien nor angel—stood there.

  She leaned forward and peered left and right. Nope. The porch was devoid of life, as was the front walk and the sidewalk.

  “Well, that’s disappointing.” She allowed her shoulders to slump.

  Apparently the winged off-worlder only knocked once, and she’d blown it. Once again, she’d sabotaged her love life without even trying.

  A warm puff of air stirred the stillness of the evening, and something floating across her porch caught her attention. She
bent and pinched the delicate silver feather between her thumb and forefinger. It was beautiful, ethereal, like the glow of a full moon in the darkest night.

  She brought it to her nose and inhaled. A comfortable, nutmeggy scent filled her with an odd sense of rightness.

  “Kyzel.” Her whisper seemed to surround her.

  I need to text Nixy Vogel and tell her what happened.

  Nixy could get a message to Kyzel. Hopefully he’d understand she hadn’t intentionally jilted him, and would agree to meet her somewhere. A special place he’d find interesting. But where? She didn’t know anything about him or what he liked.

  Read his bio in the text, dummy.

  All might not be lost after all. She clutched the feather to her breast, stepped back inside, and closed the door. First things first. Text Meryl and beg off for tonight, then get to know Kyzel as well as a bio would allow.

  The rest would come.

  Chapter 5

  For one beautiful and breathless moment, an angel stood in the doorway of Robyn Martin Donahue’s tiny nest.

  House.

  Home.

  He must remember the correct words in her language.

  Ah, but she was more stunning in reality than in her photograph. Her pale, straight hair parted just off center and swept down to brush her shoulders. And her eyes, as blue as Lake Tic’va, peering out through the dark-framed vision enhancers.

  Glasses. They are called glasses.

  And her scent; it was like the vanilla air freshener from the suite, only subtler, softer. Between that and her curvy form, he was transfixed as his blood turned molten in his veins. Careene had been small by raptor standards, but Robyn Donahue barely reached mid-chest. The urge to pull her close and wrap her in the protective circle of his wings nearly overrode his common sense. Somehow, he managed to remember enough to greet her by her formal name, as Ms. Vogel had instructed.

  Then, she slammed the door—the resounding bang echoed across the front lawn—leaving him alone on the tiny porch. An unexpected development, to be sure.

  “It appears your venture has failed, my friend.”

  The sound of Rol’s voice behind him intruded, along with the curious creak-buzz sound of some sort of Earth insect in the bushes.

  Kyzel turned partway and glared at his friend. “Have you already finished unpacking?”

  Rol stood on the front path and shrugged. “I cannot deny my own curiosity. I must say, the human female’s reaction disappointed me.”

  “Fortunately, I do not consider this venture a failure based on the outcome of one meeting.”

  It was a shame he had failed to foresee Robyn’s reaction. Even on Bezchi, it was not good if a female screamed and slammed her door, leaving a male standing on the doorstep.

  “An outcome that concerns me. Our second monarch must be as strong as our first. She cannot run and hide at the first sign of adversity.”

  “She was not expecting me, therefore reacted appropriately.” The need to defend Robyn Martin Donahue was like a rod straightening his spine. “I will not give up on her.”

  What had he done wrong? Had he offended her? If so, how? Maybe it was too late for him to visit?

  “Knocking again would be rude,” Rol said. “Come off the porch before you knock something over.”

  He let his gaze roam the porch. There was just enough room for the two white wooden slat chairs and tiny matching table off to one side, and a long, swinging perch chair on the other. But it was the host of pots filled with lush plants that decorated the porch floor, steps, and rails that were in the most danger of accidental breakage. And the destruction of his potential mate’s property would not endear him to her. He backed off the porch, one step at a time.

  Once he was clear, he turned to face Rol. “I must speak with Ms. Vogel tonight.”

  “It is almost dark. It may be too late to call.”

  Rol gestured toward the street with one hand. “Come, we can walk back to the travelers’ nest together. Even though off-worlders have been openly visiting this planet for over a decade, the Earthlings still stare.”

  “It is most disconcerting.” And it was already too dark to risk flying in the unfamiliar terrain, so walking was their only option. “I welcome your company back to our suite.”

  Rol rolled his eyes but said nothing about the correction, so Kyzel fell in step with his friend.

  Since Ms. Vogel had gone home for the night, it was on him to devise a plan to reintroduce himself to Robyn Martin Donahue. But how? And when? If it was too late to call her now, was there an appropriate time to do so tomorrow?

  He glanced at Rol’s stoic profile. “Do you think it would be better to use the phone, or return to her house in person?”

  “I think it would be wiser to return home. You, however, will naturally disagree.”

  “Rol….”

  “I know, I know.” His friend shook his head. “Believe it or not, I would be disappointed if you gave up so easily.”

  Not enough to dispute that choice, certainly. “I will see this through.”

  He must. The wave of mind-altering rightness that had taken him when she’d appeared in the doorway was something he wanted to experience again.

  “It boggles my mind that you are actually asking me for advice on females.”

  They rounded the corner onto the street the agency was located on. Several delicious scents drifted from the plethora of restaurants that lined both sides of the street, bombarding his olfactory senses. Based on the increased numbers of humans occupying sidewalk space, it was safe to say this was a favorite dining area.

  “You have had your share of consorts during your life. There must be some wisdom you can share with me.” It was not easy to ignore the stares, although it was amusing how most of the humans gave them a wide berth.

  Rol chuckled, but did not respond.

  There was no need to push for an answer either, as they had five more blocks to walk. When the city was built, the founders had laid it out on a grid of straight streets. It made navigation easier—both on foot and in the air. Although, those same founders probably had had no idea anyone would someday be able to fly from place to place.

  How would they have reacted to meeting a raptor like him?

  “What are they doing?” Rol muttered. “The couple across the street.”

  Kyzel gave the male and female a surreptitious sideways glance. The female had her phone raised in his direction. It was a position that suggested she was taking photographs, as Ms. Vogel had taught him earlier this afternoon.

  “Did you bring Fyad?”

  Rol grunted. “I told him to stay at the travelers’ nest in case you came back.”

  “Why do you suppose the female is taking photographs of us?”

  “Because of our glorious wings?”

  Kyzel met his friend’s gaze and raised his eyebrows.

  “Excuse me?” A female on their side of the street dragged his attention away from Rol.

  This one was alone, and dressed mostly in black. Black pleated skirt, black net-like leg coverings, heavy, thick-soled black boots, black bag slung over her shoulder. Even her earlobe-length hair and eyeliner were black. The only things not entirely black were her red and black-checked shirt and her lip coloring, which was so dark a red it may as well be black. All of that made her pale skin tone seem stark.

  She stood, fist on her hip and her head cocked to one side, staring at them as if they were a puzzle to solve. “Are ya guys lost?”

  Kyzel shook his head. “No, we are not.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “It’s just that the only off-worlders we see around here are usually lost…or staying at the Silverstar suites. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re Silverstar clients.”

  His nape feathers ruffled as a quiver of unease ran up his spine. “We are not lost. Thank you for your concern.”

  He strode forward, and the youngling stepped out of his path. Rol’s foots
teps sounded close behind. “Do not look back, Rol.”

  “I will not,” his friend murmured back.

  Something about the female did not ring true. Not in a foreboding way, just not quite right. He turned his head a fraction to one side, but there was no sound of footsteps in pursuit.

  A block away from the Silverstar building, he slowed. The streets here were almost empty of humans, most likely due to the lack of restaurants. “You have not answered my question, and I am open to any knowledge you can impart about wooing a female.”

  Rol’s burst of laughter bounced off the buildings. “Find something she likes, then present it to her.”

  Of course. How had he not thought of that? Her bio would contain every bit of information he could possibly need. He would memorize it tonight, and tomorrow he would call on Robyn Martin Donahue again.

  With luck, she would be more receptive.

  Chapter 6

  Robyn sat in one of the white Adirondack rocking chairs on her front porch. Birdsong in the trees glorified the joy of living, and the cool morning air held a promise of warmer temperatures to come later in the afternoon.

  In other words, a typical late-summer day in southern California.

  She raised her steaming mug and inhaled the deep, rich cinnamon aroma of her favorite blend of Kona coffee. Mornings like this, especially when such mornings fell on a Friday, were the best. No work, no obligations, just her and nature, and….

  Meryl rounded the end of the neighbor’s hedge, her tightly curled mop of bleached golden hair bouncing. She strode up Robyn’s front path with a confidence borne from having faced life’s hard knocks and survived.

  Her friend spread her arms wide as she ascended the two steps to the porch. “I cannot tell you how disappointed I am to see you out here this morning, alone. Where is he?”

  “He is not here.” She set her mug on the whitewashed wood table between them.

  “Obviously.” Meryl plopped herself in the second rocker. “I’d so hoped you had an overnight house guest. Are those your aunt’s cinnamon rolls I smell?”

  “Yep. They’re in the oven.” Robyn picked up the white carafe and tipped it to fill the waiting mug. The soft sound of bird wings swooshed past the porch. “Why would you come over if you thought he’d spent the night?”