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I gingerly rubbed the soft fur beneath the horse’s eye. She snorted and pushed against my hand as if to ask for more.
“I’ll take a picture,” the guard announced. “You two look adorable together.”
I frowned. I didn’t want to be called that. The horse was adorable, yes, despite her intimidating size, but not me.
Without warning, her tongue shot out and licked my ear. Yuck.
“Can I step away from her now?” I asked the horse’s owner, realising at the same time that I didn’t even know his name. I’d forgotten all about polite introductions. That wasn’t professional at all. I was representing not just the castle team, but all of Historic Scotland, the charity looking after many of Scotland’s ancient sites. I had to get my act together and stop being so affected by the stranger’s presence.
“Slowly, don’t startle her. She likes you.”
Great. I stroked her warm cheek one last time, then stepped back. She inclined her head a little, then snorted happily. At least that’s how I interpreted it.
“I’ll send you the pictures later,” the guard promised.
I probably wouldn’t take him up on that. I hated seeing pictures of myself. I preferred to be behind the camera where I could indulge my insecurities.
Now that the barrier was up, I led the stranger and the horse through the gate and up the uneven cobblestone path until we got to the gardens. The roses were in their final days of bloom and their sweet fragrance filled the air. It was one of my favourite parts of the castle complex.
Ignoring the ‘don’t step on the grass’ signs, I headed to the wall looming high above us. When I stopped to make sure they’d followed me onto the grass, I wasn’t surprised to have the stranger stare at me intensely once again.
“That beech tree over there is over two hundred years old,” I said, falling into my tour guide routine. “And did you know that Queen Anne, after whom this garden is named, never actually visited the castle?”
“I did not know that,” the man said, an amused smirk twisting his lips. “And there’s something else I don’t know. Your name.”
“Tara. Tara Crawford.”
He touched two fingers to his forehead and gave me a short bow. “Bruin, son of Tholin.”
Again, I felt like he was making fun of me, yet his expression was sincere. I couldn’t make head nor toe of this man.
He stroked the horse’s mane, getting a soft whinny in response. “And this is An’tia. She is as pleased to meet you as I am.”
The unicorn stared at me. Her turquoise eyes seemed to turn into swirling whirlpools, pulling me in. Unseen ropes wrapped around my chest, restricting my breathing. My knees buckled, yet I couldn’t look away from those gorgeous eyes. I was trapped, held in place by a force I had no words to describe. My body was frozen, yet my mind was free as I floated towards the unicorn, pulled into the depths of her soul.
Lesson 3: Introducing Yourself to Your Abductee
Bruin
As soon as my mate was unconscious, I picked her up and pressed her close against my chest. I’d been craving to touch her the moment I’d laid eyes on her, but I’d not want to scare her. Fumbling for my C-Band, I took a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, then pressed the button. Bright light enveloped us. An’tia whinnied in annoyance, then her hooves hit the floor of my spaceship. She huffed, angry to be back in the confined space.
We’d been on Peritus for five of their sun rotations. The trip here had been long and uneventful, but the moment we’d broken through the planet’s atmosphere, An’tia had begun to glitter. Her white coat had sparkled as if she’d been doused in pure starlight. I’d never seen anything more beautiful.
What irony that the only reason I’d come to Peritus was because of my father. I bet he’d regret persuading me to do this once he found out that An’tia had found my mate. Not just any mate. My soulmate.
While An’tia’s glittering fur was a clear sign that my mate was somewhere on the planet, there’d been no way of knowing where until we’d set foot on what the natives called Earth. At first, we’d landed on the wrong continent, but An’tia had guided me all the way to a small country the natives called Scotland. It was a beautiful place that reminded me a little of Allopo, my home planet. Although it would take me some time to get used to only having one sun light up the sky.
On the way, I’d dutifully made notes of how the Peritans reacted to An’tia. Most smiled when they saw her or wanted to take something they called selfies. Others wanted to touch her horn and desired to find out what it was made of. An’tia didn’t let any of them touch her, but she was surprisingly docile and didn’t use her venom on anyone.
We finally found my mate in front of an old structure that didn’t look fit to live in. Maybe it was her family’s estate, but she lacked the funds to repair it. I’d expected my mate to be confused by An’tia, but she’d looked at us as if she’d expected me to arrive with a stabhorn. My father assumed that Peritans didn’t believe in the existence of stabhorns, but there was a chance he was wrong. My mate certainly hadn’t looked at An’tia as if she was a mythical beast.
A gong sounded, signalling that the beaming process had been completed and all our atoms had been reassembled in the correct order. I hurried over to the medpod and gently lay my mate inside. She was still unconscious, but her breathing was steady. Her golden hair spread around her head like a veil. It reminded me of something, a distant memory, but I couldn’t remember why her beautiful hair looked so familiar.
I activated the medpod and started a full diagnostic sequence. I’d been told beaming was safe for Peritans, but I wanted to make sure. As much as the Intergalactic University had researched their species in the past decade or so, there was still a lot to learn about Peritans. I grinned when I realised I'd get an up-close introduction to their peculiar manners. My sire had told me stories of their habits, which seemed to involve a lot of shaking hands and speaking in riddles, but he'd only been to Peritus twice. Most of his research was based on going through their literature. He'd become fascinated by their fiction and written several papers on the surprising realism in a genre they called 'monster romance'. Now that I had a Peritan mate, I regretted that I didn't pay more attention to my sire's research. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction by asking him for advice. No way.
The medpod's screen filled with data. She had no translation implant fitted, so I instructed the pod to inject her with a basic one. Mine was more advanced, letting me speak alien languages as well as understand them, but it was a more invasive procedure. I didn’t want to subject her to that without her consent. For now, a simple synthetic ear slug implant that would translate whatever she heard would suffice.
My female's iron levels were too low, but everything else seemed normal for her species. The medpod calculated that she was twenty-seven Peritus rotations young. That seemed barely old enough to be out of diapers. Had I abducted a youngling?!
