Sixx: Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides #4 (Intergalactic Dating Agency) Read online

  She wants a man who’s got her six…

  He needs a mate with enough moxie to leave Earth…

  Software developer Moxie Maguire has a BIG dream—save enough money to start her own video game company. That’s why she logs fourteen-hour days working for an obnoxious boss. But when life seems to be passing her by, she sets another goal—meet Mr. Right, a man who can support her dream. She joins the Intergalactic Dating Agency and is matched with a hot-and-horned alien named…Sixx. Sexy as heck, a good listener, family-oriented—he’s the perfect man to share a life with.

  If only that life was on Earth.

  Sixx has a dream, too. Find a mate, settle down, and raise kits. With females in short supply on his planet, this single dad heads for Earth to get a female then get back to Dakon and his young son. The instant he meets Moxie, he recognizes she’s his Fated mate. They’re meant to be together.

  But he won’t abandon his child. And, unfortunately, his planet has even fewer computers than females. One for the entire planet, to be exact.

  Will two Fated mates have to part? Or can they find a way to work it out?

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  KORD: Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides

  Other Titles by Cara Bristol

  About Cara Bristol

  Acknowledgements

  Sixx: Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides #4

  Copyright © September 2019 by Cara Bristol

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  eISBN : 978-1-947203-10-5

  Editor: Kate Richards

  Copy Editor: Nanette Sipe

  Cover Artist: Croco Designs

  Formatting by Wizards in Publishing

  Published in the United States of America

  Cara Bristol

  http://www.carabristol.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  SIXX

  Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides 4

  Intergalactic Dating Agency

  Cara Bristol

  Chapter One

  Moxie

  If I hadn’t been forewarned the Stellar Dust Bin in New Los Angeles was an extraterrestrial hangout, I would have sworn it was cosplay night. The bar could have been a scene from Star Wars or Star Trek with blue men, green women, lizard people, and enough wiggling antennae to signal passing spaceships—and those were the servers. The bar’s patrons were even more…intimidating. Could I handle this?

  I would have turned tail and run, except a group of eight-foot-tall dragon men barreled in behind me, so I scooted to a small, out-of-the-way table and slid into a seat.

  “What can I get ya?” A cocktail waitress slapped down a napkin and licked the tip of her pencil with her bright-blue forked tongue. I tried not to stare at her three breasts, the cleavages revealed by a low-cut tank reading, Try a star flight…it’s out of this world.

  “Uh…” Was I going to stay? To say I was having doubts about signing up with the Intergalactic Dating Agency would be the understatement of the year. The understatement of the light-year.

  I didn’t come this far to back out now. I’m no quitter. “What do you recommend?”

  “Well, the star flight”—the waitress glanced down at her shirt—“is the special. It’s pretty popular with humans.”

  “I’ll have one of those.” I craned my neck to peer at the bar. “Aton working tonight?”

  “Nah, it’s his night off. You know him?”

  “His wife, Toni, is an acquaintance. I thought I’d say hi.” I’d wanted to get a peek at him so I’d know what a Dakonian looked like. Did they have tails? Scales? Multiple appendages? I’d met Toni and her sister Lexi at yoga class. Both had connected with their Dakonian husbands through the Intergalactic Dating Agency. Because they seemed so happy, I had decided to give the IDA a try, but dating an alien was a big, scary step. Aton and Darak might be good guys, but that didn’t mean all Dakonians were.

  “Are you alone, or are you expecting someone?”

  “I am meeting someone, actually.”

  The waitress pulled another napkin from her apron and set it on the table. “You want to order for him?”

  “I’d better wait. I don’t know what he would like.”

  “Gotcha. My name’s Yvffnkn, but you can call me Betty. It’s a little easier to say.” She winked. “Be back in a flash with your drink.”

  I’d pegged “back in a flash” as a figure of speech until Betty dematerialized into a cloud of vapor, streaked across the room, and rematerialized at the bar.

  “All righty then.” I dug out my phone to check for a text from the Intergalactic Dating Agency canceling my date. No such luck. Only the original message. Meet Sixx at 8 p.m. at the Stellar Dust Bin. Fifteen minutes to go. I wished now I hadn’t been so early. Better to arrive a little late, and not leave time to develop a bad case of cold feet.

  I’d been given the option of allowing the IDA to arrange the first date. Deciding to rely on the organization’s expertise, I’d checked that box. Then I’d been given the choice of lunch, cocktails, or dinner. I’d figured cocktails offered the best chance for escape if the date didn’t go well. I could fake an embarrassed yawn and claim an early-morning work session.

  That wouldn’t be a lie. All my mornings were early—balanced out by late nights.

  I did have two new texts. One from Miles, my boss at Ellison Game Group, and one from my mom. I grimaced and opened the former. What’s the progress on the Zephyr issues?

  Seriously? Why did I bother to email project updates if the EGGhead didn’t read them?

  Tomorrow would be another long work day, but then I’d have an entire weekend to recover—unless I went into the office on Saturday.

  Having started at 5:00 a.m. like I did most days, I’d skipped out at 6:00 p.m. to get ready for my date—but not before I’d emailed my boss a very detailed report on Zephyr 1.0. I had no reason to feel guilty for leaving early. Team lead on Zephyr, EGG’s latest game, I worked my ass off. At the best of times, my boss, Miles Ellison—EGGhead we called him—micromanaged his staff to the nth degree, requiring frequent updates and virtual hand-holding, and Zephyr was his latest and greatest baby, expected to be a blockbuster propelling EGG into the Fortune 500. Like a new dad, Miles was a bundle of nerves—and his anxiety turned the rest of us into basket cases, too.

  I put up with the irritation because the gig paid pretty well—although if you averaged it by hours logged, the salary wasn’t that good. However, it enabled me to sock away a decent nest egg toward s
tarting my own gaming company.

  Still on track. Details in the email I sent you, I texted back while gritting my teeth. I was entitled to a life!

  I opened the message from Mom. Good luck tonight, honey. Hope you meet the man of your dreams.

  I wouldn’t have told my mother I had a date at all, except she’d invited me to go shopping and out to dinner. My mother loved being in love. Falling hard and fast, she believed every guy she was interested in was her perfect match. They usually turned out to be controlling jerks. Cheaters. Deadbeats.

  Learning from her mistakes, I approached relationships with a healthy dose of caution—not that my attracto-meter scored any higher. My last relationship had ended with a restraining order, but at least I took decisive action and got out of bad relationships. I didn’t ride a wave of hurt and disappointment to the bitter end while hoping things would magically improve.

  Maybe joining the dating agency had been a dumb idea. If you couldn’t find a good man on Earth, what were the odds a relationship with an alien would work?

  Thanks, Mom. I’ll fill you in later. I texted a white lie. I had no intention of telling her anything. If things went well, which I doubted, talking about the date too soon would jinx it. And if things didn’t go well, Mom would find all sorts of reasons to overlook screaming red flags and suggest I give the guy a chance.

  Coming here, doing this had been a big mistake. What was I thinking? Just because the agency had found great matches for Lexi and Toni, didn’t mean the program would work for me. And I had never met either of their husbands—maybe they weren’t as awesome as the wives claimed.

  “Here you go.” Betty returned with a hurricane glass billowing with vapor. She set it on the table along with a small basket.

  I eyed the steaming drink, but compared to dating an alien, how much of a risk could a star flight be? I peered into the basket containing round brown things. Could humans digest alien food? “What are those?”

  “Peanuts.”

  “Oh.” I flushed. “Thanks.”

  “You haven’t been here before, have you?”

  “First time,” I admitted.

  “No worries, hon. Nobody here bites, except for the Zurelians, and they’ve been banned.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  “Well, give a shout if you need anything. I’ll keep watch for your date.”

  Leaving a contrail in her wake, Betty zipped off to another table. Frost coated my glass filled with a lime-green concoction. White smoke poured over the top like a witch’s brew. I should have asked her what was in it. Maybe it was something mundane like vodka and lime juice. Sometimes a peanut was just a peanut.

  “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I see you already have one—although from the look on your face, you don’t like it much,” said a well-modulated male voice in perfect English.

  I looked up. A man stood in front of my table. His face more or less resembled a human’s—two eyes and one nose, but his mouth was lipless. How do you kiss a guy who doesn’t have lips, I wondered, and then noticed his, uh, appendages. Tentacles. Three on each side, a frosty mug of beer clutched in one of them.

  “Are you Sixx?” I asked, re-counting tentacles. Yep, six of them.

  “Is that who you’re waiting for?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m your man.”

  I had no idea what a Dakonian looked like, but Lexi and Toni never mentioned tentacles. Surely they would have said something. Oh baby, what he can do with all those hands… “You’re Dakonian?”

  “I’m a Lorexan.”

  The nerve! He was trying to slide into another guy’s place. “Is Lorexan anything like a lounge lizard?” I said in a sticky-sweet tone and then snapped, “You’re not Sixx!” I grabbed my star flight and took a gulp. Despite being pissed off, I was pleasantly surprised by tropical flavors of pineapple, coconut, and lime. The alcohol was rum, if I wasn’t mistaken.

  “Hey, when I see a woman sitting all by her lonesome, I figure it’s worth a shot.”

  “I believe this little lady belongs to me.” Dressed in animal skins, seven feet of muscled perfection shouldered up to my table. My gaze traveled up, up, up over a barrel chest and broad shoulders to a forceful chin, chiseled cheekbones, and a nose with a bump in the middle. His expression and posture were hostile as he scowled at the Lorexan, but when he glanced at me, the heat in his gaze nearly melted me in my panties. Near-black hair swept back from a high forehead shadowing dark-brown eyes and skin the color of chocolate ice cream. As a plus, he had lips. Full, sexy, kissable lips.

  But, little lady? Belong to him? Apparently sexism was alive and well in the galaxy. Were there no enlightened aliens? This little lady didn’t belong to anybody but herself, and I wasn’t so little. Long work hours prevented me from getting to the gym as often as I should, and I derived my diet from fast food a wee bit too much. Hence, my hips carried a little extra baggage, but I was more than capable of taking care of myself in any situation. Like this one.

  However, my annoyance with the newcomer ran contrary to the sudden wave of heat coursing through my body. Tentacle Guy left me cold, but, at the appearance of Mr. Buckskin, my heart and stomach started fluttering like crazy, and I had a strong urge to wrap myself around him like a dancer humping a stripper pole. Dormant erogenous zones lit up like the Las Vegas strip. Holy crap, he was hot.

  I stood up and found myself caught between two men about to butt horns—literally, since the late arrival sported two cute leathery dark-brown nubs from his nicely shaped skull. He glanced at me, and the horns pulsed.

  My stomach cha-chaed. So did my heart. And my womb. And Miss Priss.

  “She hasn’t been stamped and tagged,” Tentacle Guy said. He was blowing up like a puffer fish. Not attractive in a tentacled guy. Not. At. All.

  “Hold it, boys. First of all, on this planet, nobody stamps and tags anybody.” I glanced around. Where was Betty? Did they have bouncers in this place?

  “No, because she’s my mate,” Buckskin continued as if I hadn’t spoken.

  “Who says?” Tentacle Guy set down his beer. His skin was turning greener than my drink. A sign of anger? He had a lot of “hands” to throw punches, but Buckskin looked like a heavyweight prize fighter.

  Uh oh.

  “The Intergalactic Dating Agency.” Buckskin smiled at me, and my internal organs added some new dance steps. “I’m Sixx.”

  Despite the macho attitude leading him to the mistaken belief I needed a man to jump in and rescue me, I much preferred him to the other one, who I suspected might get grabby and attempt to tag me with one tentacle while groping me with the other five.

  “So it’s true? His claim is legit? You’re his mate?” the Lorexan asked me.

  Date—mate—if I said yes, would he go away?

  “Yes, I’m his mate,” I said.

  Chapter Two

  Sixx

  The Lorexan raised four tentacles in surrender and shrugged. “Sorry, man. I didn’t realize you had a prior claim.” He shot a censuring look at my mate. “You should have said something sooner.”

  She slapped her hands on her hips and huffed. “The fact I said I was waiting for somebody should have been good enough.”

  The Lorexan sauntered off, and I gave my full attention to my mate. She was more fragile than Dakonian females who were as large and muscular as men. But her temper appeared to be as fiery if her flashing brown eyes served as an indication.

  “Good riddance!” She glared at the retreating Lorexan and flipped her golden-tipped long hair over her delicate shoulder. Her wavy hair, which grew dark brown at the scalp and lightened to yellow at the ends, intrigued me.

  My mate. Satisfaction hummed within me. Not yet, but soon. She’d said so when the Lorexan had asked her. On my planet, a female’s verbal agreement to become a man’s mate sealed the deal. The only thing invalidating our mating was that the Lorexan had asked her on my behalf. Dakonian customs required I ask her. Still, her ready accepta
nce served as a positive omen and afforded me great relief. All the times I’d attempted to discuss mating with Falla, she’d put me off.

  My mate’s scowl cleared as she met my gaze. “So, you’re Sixx.”

  “I am,” I said.

  “Moxie Maguire.” She extended her hand.

  I shook it the way they taught us in the IDA assimilation classes. Her hand felt dainty in my big paw, and I noticed her fingernails were purple. Humans were colorful.

  “Well…let’s…proceed.” She sank into her chair, and I took the opposite one. A female server appeared. “What can I get ya?”

  “Dakonian ale?”

  “Coming right up.” She looked at Moxie. “What do you think of the star flight?”

  “It’s good,” she replied and gulped a mouthful of her drink.

  The server vanished, almost seeming to fade away in the air then reappeared moments later with a tankard of brew. I took a sip. “Not quite like my mother makes, but close,” I said and wiped foam from my lip.

  Moxie arched her eyebrows. “Your mother brews ale?”

  “Yes, she supplies the tavern at the Meeting Place on Dakon. Our ale is made from fermented macha grain, one of the heartier plants that survived the asteroid strike.”

  “I heard about the disaster.” She nodded. “Your planet got hit a few centuries ago, and now it’s in an ice age.”

  “That’s right. Dakon is covered with snow and ice most of the year. We have a short growing season called the Thaw when we harvest the macha.”

  Her smile caused my horns to throb. “So, besides good weather, what brings you to Earth?”

  “You.” I certainly hadn’t come for Earth’s weather, which I would never describe as good. Currently, the area called New Los Angeles was experiencing an uncomfortably sweltering season called autumn. “The asteroid carried a virus that caused a genetic mutation, which has resulted in declining female births. There aren’t enough females to support our continued existence. There is another program with Earth that sends females to Dakon, but it’s run as a lottery, and it’s left up to chance whether a man draws a chit enabling him to get one. So, when the Intergalactic Dating Agency offered us an opportunity to come here, I jumped at the chance.”