Cutlass: Motor City Alien Mail Order Brides: Intergalactic Dating Agency (2 page)

“
N
o
, no, no. That won’t do.” Ampetheia, the female with the sharp claws on the tips of her fingers, made a cooing sound as she looked over my application. “We need to simplify how your name is spelled so the
hue-mens
know how to say this. Can you pronounce it, please?”

“Cutthlaise, Reithhar Warrior of the planet Xouthhgros and Master Machinist for the former BHG489-2140 Colony.”

“No, just your name.”

Their language must be broken on this planet Earth.
“That is my name.”

Ampetheia stared for a long moment with eyes as bright and orange as the three suns of my home. Her deep, intense watchfulness ignited instincts I hadn’t felt in many seasons. Instincts to run, to protect myself from a threat. The plan to kill Hohddshoun for pushing me into this process began to unwind in the back of my thoughts even as I plotted how to escape her clutches.

Before I could decide if smashing through the wall or tossing her desk on top of her would be a more effective distraction, Ampetheia sat back and released me from her hunter’s stare.

“You’re heading to planet Earth, to a colony called the United States,” she said, speaking slowly as if I didn’t understand the words. As if my communication core were somehow damaged or malfunctioning. An impossible idea. “They speak a language your name won’t translate to, which means you’ll stick out. You cannot stick out, or you risk being discovered. If you’re discovered, every other non-earthling we’ve brought to the planet through our mate-finding program is in danger. Your name is not worth all those lives.” Her lips pulled up in a way that bared her teeth. I jerked back with a snarl, ready to fight her if need be.

But Ampetheia didn’t attack. In fact, she cooed again, this time a bit more loudly as she pointed at her mouth. “It’s called a
schmy-ell
.”

“The
hue-mens
…they
schmy-ell
? Why?”

“Oh, good grief. It’s not hue-mens. Humans.” She stressed the word, making her lips purse as she sounded it out in the new language. “One word, no pause. And it’s a smile, an expression of happiness and joy. You’ll need to learn their emotional reactions before you head down to the planet. All you warriors have so much to learn.”

I doubted her words, though. I had been taught for many seasons by the best of my tribe. I could fix almost any ship, hunt any animal, and beat any foe. I was through with my learning phase.

Ampetheia tapped her claw against the screen a few times before once again baring her teeth at me. I controlled my initial need to destroy the threat and tried to mimic her facial motions. My upper lip shook, and my teeth ground together. A smile, she’d said. How painful.

“Let’s go with Cutlass.” Ampetheia gave me no say in the matter, so I grunted my acceptance even as my instincts balked at the different sound. I would need to kill Hohddshoun to make up for this idea. Being part of a matchmaking service that paired various species with the beings on Earth seemed odd enough. Matching mates based on nothing more than a few antiquated communications and Ampetheia’s intuition? Worse. What being would fall for this? What type of female would even apply to meet a mating partner via written words? I’d always thought I’d find my mate the same way Reithhar warriors always had—by meeting someone my esehhnce crooned for and giving in to that attraction. But this farce of a dating agency? This was nothing like I’d expected.

Hohddshoun…definitely dead for pushing us to sign up.

There was nothing wrong with the process according to Ampetheia, though. The female tapped her pen against her desk in some sort of pattern before giving me another smile
,
one that instantly made me want to move farther away from those sharp, white teeth.

She was not one to be taken lightly.

“I have to admit, your application is quite good other than the name,” she said. “So long as you agree not to use any of your Reithhar powers around the humans, I believe we’ll find a match for you in half a Xouthhgros lunar cycle.”

“That fast?” Her estimate was impossible in my world. It took most of my kind many seasons to find a mate, while some never did. Half a lunar cycle on Xouthhgros would pass far too quickly for such a search.

Still, I peered at the images on the walls, the female humans. The couples standing close together or embracing as if mated. Most everything about the beings seemed similar to my own kind—two eyes, proper auditory sockets, no tentacles, biped anatomy. Very similar, indeed, though they looked so much smaller than my kind. Softer, even. A thought that intrigued. After the strong, hard bodies of the Reithhar females, what would it be like to press my cock deep inside such softness? Would I need to be gentle with my ruts, or could I seek my pleasure fully? All questions to be asked, but not of Ampetheia as she was neither Reithhar nor human. Still… “How can you find a suitable mate for a Reithhar Warrior like myself in such a short time?”

Ampetheia didn’t seem surprised by my doubt. “We match quickly and accurately at the Intergalactic Dating Agency. Earth is ripe with females hungry for a strong, willing male to be their mate, so we have more human applications than I can match, which is a wonderful place to be.”

“But my Warrior brother, Hohddshoun. You have not matched him or Maivehricck.”

The matchmaker frowned and slid her finger over her computer screen. “Ah, yes. Their applications are still in process, but no worries. We’ll find someone for them. We have an 85% successful first-match rate, which is much higher than we usually start out with on a new planet. Human women are hungry for strong, sexy, take-charge men in their beds, and the Reithhar species, in particular, has always been known for their decisiveness when it comes to their mates. “You’ll be snatched up in no time, as will the other two warriors.” She leaned over her desk, those orange eyes glowing, only slightly off-color from my own bright yellow ones. “But this won’t last. Males and nonbinary maters are coming from just about every galaxy to find their perfect mate. We wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

Those words caused a prickle of worry to run over me. No, I wouldn’t want to miss out. My people were gone, and only the other hunters and crewmembers who’d been on the exploration trip with me the day our colony was destroyed were left. My chance at a Reithhar mate had ended with a single explosion on planet Xouthhgros. This was an opportunity to continue my species, to find a female who made my esehhnce croon. With luck, Hohddshoun and Maivehricck would have their own opportunities. This was mine, and I couldn’t pass it up.

“What do I do?”

Ampetheia tapped one of her claws on the tablet she slid my way. “You touch here, lover.”

I didn’t even attempt to decipher the black symbols on the screen before grabbing the tablet and pressing my fingers where Ampetheia pointed. The tablet glowed blue for a moment before letting out a quiet beep.

“Done.” Decision made and contract approved, I tossed the tablet back on the desk. “You may find me a mate.”

“Perfect. Now, the letter for your human female. We write that for you because there’s no way the translation would come out perfectly. Their language is a bit clunky. Besides, we would never expect you to learn to read any human dialect. It’d be a waste of time unless you and your match choose to stay together and on Earth. Spend the two weeks you promised to participate getting to know the human instead of the language, I say.”

“Two weeks?”

“Oh, did I forget that part?” This time, the teeth-baring didn’t seem so innocent. “You have two Earth weeks to finalize your mating. After that, we plop you back in the pool and reassign a match. Hopefully, if we get this right, we won’t need to do that. Eighty-five percent first match success rate, remember? Even after the humans learn our clients aren’t earthlings. Though, I do recommend waiting until the end of that two-week period to bring that up.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice as if not wanting others to overhear. “Some of the humans get a little funny about the whole non-Earth being thing. We try to filter those types of humans out of the pool of candidates, but one or two sneak through. We’re working on the process.”

“Fine,” I said. “I won’t tell the human female.”

“Great. And we’ll get you some lenses to cover those eyes.”

“Why do my eyes need covering?”

“Oh, honey. Consider yourself lucky. Eye coverings are no big deal. I cover mine whenever I deal with the humans. Be thankful you’re not one of the ones with some sort of rainbow skin color or non-biped shape.” She leaned forward as if telling me a secret. “The ones with tails are the worst. There’s just no hiding that.” A visible shiver rocked her shoulders before she sat back and bared her teeth at me again. “But eyes are simple. No one on Earth has such bright eyes as we do. The earthlings will think you’re the son of a
skuule buhhs
or something if you don’t cover them up.”

The pictures my translator showed for
skuule buhhs
did nothing to hold back my ire. Still, I managed to growl out my last question without any direct threat to the female. “What else?”

“Right, the letter. Let’s see.” She eyed me up and down, an entirely different sort of predatory inspection. “Tall, handsome warrior available to fulfill your every damsel in distress fantasy.”

T
wo days
, three bottles of wine, twenty-four panicked texts to Amelia, and about forty-seven miles walked as I paced around my decrepit loft was all it took to receive the magical call I’d been promised. The match was accepted, which meant I was sort of engaged. To a man I would meet for the first time in a few days. A man I knew nothing about except that he had some sort of damsel in distress fantasy, which I found hilarious.
Come home with me; see the shithole I live in. You can rescue me anytime, sir.

What the hell had I done?

“So you’ll be meeting Cutlass this Friday at the Atheneum Suite Hotel. He’ll join you in the room.” Ms. Ampetheia practically crooned as if this was the greatest thing ever. Meanwhile, I was caught up on the whole he’d meet me in the room line.

In. The. Room.

Room…singular. Not so much with the plural.

It had to be a joke.

“Wait, we’re sharing a room?”

“Of course,” Ms. Ampetheia said, almost laughing. “All our couples start out this way. You’ll love it.”

You’ll love it—all the cool kids are doing it.

As I’d waited for that call, I’d vacillated between being ready to jump into something and wanting to run away screaming. With the whole single-room-with-a-stranger plan laid out for me, I told myself no, that I wasn’t going to do this, that it was insane. I was adamant I would withdraw from the process. Regrets, be damned.

Yet somehow, the words that came out of my mouth went something more like, “Great. Thanks. I look forward to meeting him.”

So long as he isn’t a serial killer.

And that’s how I ended up on the ninth floor of the Atheneum Suite Hotel on a Friday afternoon, my hands shaking almost uncontrollably, and my one and only dressy top practically sticking to my skin. I was a nervous sweater, and meeting my future husband—
don’t heave, don’t heave
—for the first time was apparently an anxiety-inducing experience. This would not go well.

What was I thinking, anyway? This was a bad plan. A horrible plan. Just because cobwebs were growing in my vagina didn’t mean I should hook up with some stranger. This was a horrible, bad plan, but I’d thrown caution to the wind and let the agency decide who my perfect match would be…sight unseen. And to compound matters, I’d let them talk me into spending a weekend alone with him.

I had never felt so stupid.

Still, there was no turning back. My mind was made up, and I could be a stubborn bitch when I wanted to. Even to myself. So I took a deep breath, tossed my hair over my shoulder, and opened the door. Yes, I was stupid…but apparently, I was also determined to follow through on my stupidity. Such a great combination.

First impression of the hotel room? There was only one bed—
one
—and I was going to share it with someone named Cutlass. Like the car.

“Why is there no air in this place?” I waved a hand in front of my face and tried to talk myself down. At least my future husband—okay, seriously, stop thinking that word—wasn’t in the room to see me freak out. The lady at the agency had said Cutlass would be arriving after I did—something about me maybe needing time to prepare. I didn’t know what I was expected to prepare for. It wasn’t as if I was going to slip into something more comfortable for a man I’d never met. Though, I’d brought
more comfortable
. Technically, less comfortable, but really, in case this guy turned out to be some Gerard Butler or Channing Tatum look-alike, I was ready with the lace and sheer. A girl had needs.

And right then, I needed some motherfucking AC, but the thermostat would not let me change the temperature.

“Stupid, defective room.”

With my stomach tight and my heart racing, I paced. What if he wasn’t attractive? What if he was? What if he didn’t find
me
attractive? Oh God, the chill on my skin suddenly felt like needles. Why was I sweating so badly?

I glanced at the bed.

Oh, yeah.
That
.

I picked up the pacing again, staying far away from the bed in a loose arc. I needed a plan. Or two, really, because there were at least two ways I saw this thing happening. My mom had always said to give yourself options so you weren’t disappointed. Those words had never seemed more important than at that moment. So I sat—not on the bed because I really didn’t want to throw up on my own shoes—and I plotted.

Plan A: The guy who walked through the door was more of a Danny DeVito than a Channing Tatum. Upside, I wouldn’t have to worry about sweat or shaving or figuring out how to get my curves into something strappy. We could talk, then I’d leave to go back to my apartment for the few days I might have left living in it before being evicted and moving in to my car. Awesome plan.

Plan B: The guy who walked through the door was attractive and attracted to me. Upside, I would get laid. Hopefully, he’d be good in bed. Hell, this was totally my plan and my imagination—he’d be phenomenal in the sheets. Downside…

I thought and thought, but nothing came to mind. All win, that plan. I mean, sure, if I did happen to want more than a night or two, he might not be down for that. Fine. The matchmaker claimed this great rate of successful marriages after the completion of the two-week trial period, but no one agreed to forever from the start, right? It wasn’t as if we were going to run down to the courthouse and get hitched before Monday morning. Maybe I could get a single, dirty little rendezvous out of this. Possibly a date or two. Yeah, that was all I needed. One night of hot, sweaty, toe-curling…

I swear the bed was leering at me, and the room was a fucking oven.

Okay, back to pacing. My head spun, my breath coming faster with every step. Why couldn’t I stop and relax? This was nothing—a dalliance. I hadn’t been honest with him, and he probably hadn’t been honest with me. Who could be in letter-form? We’d meet, exchange pleasantries, and then I could choose to stay or go. Done.

But my nerves… Maybe I should have hired an escort instead of writing a letter with all my deepest secrets and fears in it. Maybe I should have tried hitting up the bars and clubs to find a man, instead of relying on an agency to find me some sort of personalized Mr. Right. Not that I could afford an escort, though I might end up having to be one if I couldn’t figure out how to pay rent. There was always my landlord’s son. He’d been propositioning and catcalling me since the day I moved in. He might exchange sex for rent, which should probably be looked at as a real possibility considering where my life was at.

Shit, it really was hot in the room, and the thermostat was as broken as my future.

Plan A, I ended up homeless. Plan B, I got laid then ended up homeless. Either way, screwed.

A quick knock was the only warning I had before the door swung open. A man walked in, and I finally stopped pacing. In fact, I damn near froze in place. Holy shit. Plan B it was.

The hotel teemed with people when I walked in. Humans in all their shapes and colors filled the meeting area and crowded the doorway. Just what I wanted. I grunted as I stalked through the chaos, scowling at the ones who dared to look my way.

Try to be nice. The humans scare easily.

Ampetheia’s words from when she gave me my match assignment picked at my memory. Be nice…how? Reithhar warriors were not built for nice. We were built to hunt and kill, to either break things or fix them. We were designed to survive the harshest of elements and the most dangerous of threats. Humans were small, weak, soft, and easily frightened. Exactly what I didn’t need in a mate.

And yet, I had hurriedly accepted my task from Ampetheia. Meet my match in a hotel—a building filled with sleeping quarters for traveling humans—and work to attract her. Fine. If I could get a mate out of this assignment, perhaps it would be worth the trouble. Doubtful, but perhaps.

I did my best not to scowl at the little beings running every which way and hurried to the box Ampetheia had called an
ellah-vaddohr
. There was nothing to tell me how to use the box, of course. Apparently, humans didn’t need instructions for the things. While I was not human, I was a Reithhar machinist. I could figure this machine out.

With one last glance at the scattered humans, I placed my hand over the metal panel with the small, round lights and let my Reithhkoneccs find the right parts and pieces to make the thing work. Ampetheia had said no powers on Earth, but that was almost impossible. My Reithhkoneccs, my sense of how small pieces were meant to work together, was not something I could turn off. I was a fixer and had been since my earliest days. Asking me to hold that back was akin to asking me not to protect myself during a battle. Ridiculous.

My Reithhkoneccs worked just as I had expected it to. Every tiny switch and wire pulled together under my guidance to move the box. The doors popped open before a single human seemed to notice me pressing my hand to the panel. Perfect.

The box smelled unpleasant and shook as if untethered to the building, but I entered it as directed. Ampetheia had given me a piece of paper with a shape on it and told me to touch that shape in the ellah-vaddohr. It took me far longer than I’d like, but I found the strange intersecting lines and touched the one on the panel. The doors slid closed, trapping me inside, and the entire machine shook and groaned. If I died in this moving box, I would still find a way to kill Hohddshoun for this idea. He deserved it.

But a hand on the control panel told me everything was working as expected, so I restrained myself from breaking through the doors to escape. At least for the moment.

As the ellah-vaddohr rose with me in it, I rubbed my eyes, the thin lenses provided by the agency gritty and irritating. Ampetheia had demanded I wear them to cover my so-called unusual eye color. Unusual on Earth, not on Xouthhgros. But I wore them without complaining…much. There was no way I could hunt with these things, though. If this mating didn’t take, if the female I was assigned to did not make my esehhnce croon after these few days together, I was going to talk my team into leaving this Earth behind. Find a hospitable planet with a more advanced technological footprint. Somewhere we could be of service. Our machinist skills were always in demand, and our hunters were lauded throughout the galaxies. We could move on.

But first, I had to go through with this whole match process.

The contraption came to a rough stop, and the doors opened without request. Silly machinery, really, but effective. Again, I had to hunt down a series of squiggles and lines to locate the proper door. All too soon, I stood in front of the entry to the room Ampetheia had said housed my match.

And then I froze.

What if this didn’t work? What if my esehhnce refused to croon for her? If the match didn’t take, I’d feel like a fool for attempting it.

But my matched partner was behind that door, so I needed to stop stalling. I was a warrior, a hunter, and a master machinist. I had fought battles far greater than Earth had ever experienced, across galaxies they didn’t know existed. I would not be afraid of a simple female.

With a single deep breath, I pressed my hand against the metal latch of the door. In no time, the lock popped. I almost bared my teeth and made the smile. Too easy, this place.

I knocked twice, as I’d been told to do, and walked inside. The human woman across the room spun, her long, dark mane flying out behind her in a mesmerizing wave. And when she faced me, when her gaze met mine, I nearly stumbled back out the door. She had the biggest eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes staring right at me and framed with a deep, dark fringe of some sort of fur. Intriguing.

But she was so small. Gentle and almost weak in her appearance. The warrior in me stood at attention, ready to protect her. Ready to keep her safe as we completed the mating dance to determine compatibility. The male in me, well, he stood at attention too, for an entirely different reason. Small, soft, and carrying a scent of sweetness, this female definitely had my attention. Still, I pushed aside the thoughts of rutting and mating and the needs my hard cock tried to burden me with and gave her one of her beings’ smiles
.

“
Klow-ee
?”

She flinched, the act of frightened prey. Was I scaring her? I’d practiced the facial movements to bare my teeth as her kind did. Perhaps I’d gotten the move wrong. Before I could try again, the female stood a little taller and stiffened her shoulders.

“Are you Cutlass?”

Her quiet, sweet voice called to me, initiating a warmth through my body I’d not experienced before. Even though Cutlass was not my real name, I liked the way it rolled off her tongue. Experienced much pleasure from watching her lips form the different sounds. Something to tuck away and think over later.

I nodded, inspecting her as she seemed to do the same. My instincts wanted me to go to her. To touch that silky looking mane, run a finger along all that smooth, golden skin. To find out how she felt under my hands. But Ampetheia had been very clear on that aspect of this odd ritual—the human female initiated the touching. I was not to stun her, drag her, push her, or force her to do anything she did not express interest in first, even though my kind tended to lean toward the aggressive side of the mating spectrum. But she was not Reithhar, she was human, so I would wait for her interest. Ampetheia had said to have patience, to hunt as if she were skittish prey. Earth females were apparently easy to bed once you were able to master something called the
woo
.

I would woo her, all right. Woo her straight onto my cock so I could experience the softness of the human form.

The female took a deep breath, seeming to shake off some of her fears. “Hey. I’m Klow-ee.”

She stepped closer and held out her hand in an odd gesture. I had seen pictures of such customs in the pamphlet on human habits. There had been one about meetings, with an image of two hands coming together. Something about…shaking. I could do that.

Trying my hardest to match her movements, I reached for her, sliding my hand into hers. The moment we touched, the moment her skin met mine, an electric tingle shot up my arm and down to my gut. That tingle, the attraction, the way my cock grew painfully hard with a single, simple brush of flesh, was all the sign I needed. This was a good match, one I could work with to see if there would be crooning from my esehhnce.