Page 23 of Stolen By Her Alien Mate

“Mister, I’m not the one you need to be charming.”

“Ah, this is true.” I shake my head, looking purposely disheartened. Which, isn’t hard. “She was supposed to know of me, to know I was coming for her.” Frustration burns through my belly again. Her life should have been different than this. I shove another bite of pie in my mouth. “It is not how it is supposed to be between be'lahshuk.”

“There you go again with your fancy words. What does that one mean?”

“Be’lahshuk?”

“Yeah. Bella shook. What’s that mean wherever you’re from?”

I sigh, because there are many things I don’t know about earth, but as far as I can tell, they have nothing that compares. Still, I gather all my new found knowledge of English and try to describe it. “Be’lahshuk are equals. Matched. They complete one another. They make one another whole.”

Lorraine makes a whistling sound and fans herself with her hand. “Wowza. That’s some serious Jerry McGuire shit, right there.”

“I do not understand that phrase. Or what mates have to do with excrement.”

She gives a belly laugh.

I grit my teeth. So glad my ignorance amuses her.

She reads my expression correctly, reaching across the counter between us to nudge my shoulder. “Oh, now don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m just joshing you.”

I stab off another bite of pie.

“Sugar.” She plants her palms on the counter. “Let me give you some advice.”

“Advice would be welcomed.”

“To win over a girl like Joey, you’ve got to slow it down. Don’t come in with your guns blazing. Romance her a little. Woo her.”

“Woo her,” I repeat, scouring my brain for the meaning of that phrase. Trying to gain the favor or affection of someone. To court.

I frown.

Yes, wooing I can do. Gaining favor or affection from someone is in many ways what I’m best at.

I just didn’t anticipate having to do that with my Joey Kincaid.

After all, she is my mate. I shouldn’t have to convince her. She should feel our connection deep in her soul. As I do.

I take another sip of my coffee and as it burns down my throat, I roll an idea around in my mind.

Am I irritated that I need to woo her?

Or that she doesn’t need to woo me?

From the moment I walked into the diner and saw her from across the room, I was hers.

Hell, if I’m being honest with myself, it started before that. Before I even saw her image on the viz screen back on Perse. It started nearly two decades ago the moment I first touched her. Through all these years, even when I assumed I would never find her again, I knew she was mine and that I was hers. I never forgot about her.

Not for a damned minute.

So how did she forget me?

The fact that she did stings worse than any cut from any blade.

I hadn’t expected to feel this instant connection to her. This sweep of certainty. But the minute I’d seen her, I’d known.

I would have been able to pick my Joey Kincaid out of a crowd of women. Her hair was that of fire. So vibrantly red it begged to be touched.