Sol: Intergalactic Dating Agency (Beast Battalion Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Sol

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  Romancing the Alien

  Thank You!

  SOL

  BEAST BATTALION

  BIG SKY ALIEN BRIDES

  INTERGALACTIC DATING AGENCY

  Elsa Jade

  WEBSITE | NEW RELEASE ALERT | FACEBOOK

  She doesn’t believe in alien life on Earth…

  Brin Andersen is a hoax buster with a big internet following. And now she’s on a quest to reveal the most ridiculous hoax ever: the rumor of—get this—an extraterrestrial dating service in some tiny Montana town. But after her production equipment is stolen, she’s stranded without resources. When an aloof, sexy security guard asks for her help with a missing person search, maybe this episode featuring the would-be secrets of Sunset Falls won’t be a total bust after all.

  He doesn’t believe in alien loving on Earth…

  Fynix Sol is to blame for his beast battalion’s exile from Xymir. And now they are hiding on Earth until they can bind their hungry beasts to willing mates. But that chance will be lost if the IDA outpost reopening fails to launch. Sol knows he doesn’t rate a mate, not after what he did, but if he can trick an unsuspecting Earther into finding the missing proprietor of Evens’ Odds & Ends Shop, at least his crew might be saved. He just needs to keep his beast hidden from the sharp-eyed, softly curved Brin.

  They’re both wrong. But together they are oh-so right.

  It’s hard to believe in the power of love, especially when some mysterious adversary is confounding them. Can Brin and Sol trust each other long enough to discover who hates love enough to destroy the Big Sky Intergalactic Dating Agency before it begins again?

  Read all the BEAST BATTALION

  CROSS

  SOL

  ZENITH

  New to the Big Sky Alien Mail Order Brides? Start with ALPHA STAR for free!

  And find all the Intergalactic Dating Agency books at RomancingTheAlien.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Elsa Jade

  Cover design by Croco Designs

  ISBN 978-1-941547-42-7

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as factual. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be scanned, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Chapter 1

  Brin Andersen had one week to prove that the UFO sightings in Sunset Falls were a hoax.

  Shouldn’t be a problem, of course, since one, all UFOs were fake, and two, she always exposed the lies.

  But her task would’ve been much faster and easier, and had better production values, if her camper van hadn’t been ransacked and all her gear stolen while she’d stopped for coffee on the way from Seattle to this nowhere corner of Montana. The state trooper who’d responded to her call had offered to file a report, shrugged, and reminded her to be sure to lock her doors.

  As if she hadn’t locked her van! She of all people knew the cold, hard truths about the world.

  So she arrived in Sunset Falls for her latest hoax debunking with only her phone, messenger bag, and the clothes on her back, plus a rather significant chip on her shoulder that was now not covered by her very good Patagonia coat because the thief had swept away that and the rest of her clothes in the small hanging organizer along with everything else not nailed down in the van. They even took the non-functional radio out of the dashboard. Who stole a radio these days?

  There was no such thing as extraterrestrial visitors, magical beings, or heretofore undiscovered cryptids, but there were plenty of losers, assholes, and criminally desperate to make the purpose of her work ever more clear: looking to the heavens or other dimensions or even advanced technology wasn’t going to change the human condition. Only people could do that for themselves—and only if they really wanted to.

  As for aliens coming to Earth to find their true loves, to spirit them away to the stars…

  Brin snorted. Not only was that willfully delusional and sort of low-key embarrassing, it didn’t even make sense. With all of the universe around them, why would ETs choose Earth of all places for their true love?

  As she cruised the street grid of Sunset Falls, familiarizing herself with the small town, she spoke into her phone, making notes for how she planned to attack the lies. She’d post some of her more scathing assessments in the extras and outtakes that she reserved for her higher-level subscribers.

  Although maybe she needed to watch her tone? After her last episode on yet another lake monster up in Canada, she’d gotten a DM from a fan asking, “Is everything all right? You seem…mad. Or sad. I appreciate your quest for the truth, but isn’t there still some room for dreams and whimsy?” Signed ‘A Unicorn Lover’.

  Wasn’t that what everyone believed? That their dreams and delusions were the ones worth pursuing? But whimsy didn’t pay the rent or put food on the table. And chasing fantasies meant not being there for reality.

  Not that myth-busting was super lucrative, not yet anyway. She had her supporters, eagerly awaiting her monthly posts, and their contributions kept her on the move. Oh, a few of them paid just for the chance to unleash their wild-eyed conspiracies on her, challenging her to prove them wrong. But their money converted to ramen and gas just as well as the true non-believers.

  However, the most recent topic suggestion, sent anonymously from ‘New Fan’, was one of the weirdest yet.

  An extraterrestrial dating service? How…strangely specific. Or maybe not that different from the abductions and probings that some people fixated on. But the only thing more eyeroll inducing than a belief in aliens was a belief in true love. Ugh.

  Sunset Falls was one of the cuter small towns she’d cased, and Brin had seen more than her fair share of Nowheresvilles. In fact, with its towering pines and mountain views, the rushing creek separating the residences from the road, the quaint Main Street with antique street lamps and concrete planters stuffed with small evergreens, she was surprised it didn’t have more of a presence. Maybe she’d pitch a feature to Sunset magazine or something; always good to multi-purpose her research when possible. Although without her laptop and cameras, getting any sort of catchy story was going to put her creative skills to the test.

  First though, clean underwear.

  She’d been crisscrossing the country in a camper van long enough to know how to live fast and light, but she usually resupplied from bigger towns. While she could double back to Bozeman, the autumn late-afternoon light was already fading and she wasn’t going to be here that long anyway. Surely Sunset Falls had a package of Fruit of the Loom it could spare.

  She backtracked to the coffee shop she’d seen on her first pass, having subconsciously marked the location of caffeine refueling. The Twinkle, Twinkle Roasting House seemed just a leeeeetle too cute for a rural community in this stage of gentrification, but since it was semi-close to Yellowstone
, they probably got enough overflow vacationers in season to justify the presumption of roasting their own beans.

  Assuming they were telling the truth about being a roasting house. Considering more than one lake monster was a blatant tourism ploy, what was to stop someone from telling heinous lies about their coffee?

  But the fragrance inside the Twinkle was 100% legit light-roasted Arabica. Before the cheerful tingle of the bell over the door had quieted, she’d marched to the counter and was sliding her card across the shiny linoleum to the server.

  “Hey there.” The barista grinned at her through the triple lower-lip piercings. “That look says full caff, no room for milk or sugar. How about a gooey bun to go with it?”

  “You’re good,” Brin acknowledged. “Biggest mug you have. But can you make it a slice of that lemon cake instead? Not a fan of sticky fingers.”

  With a nod, the barista bustled away.

  Brin turned to survey the café. The building was likely original, or at least the brick walls and refinished wood floor were. The furnishings were an eclectic mismatch but with a particular eye, just like the planters outside. People here cared.

  The evidence pinged at something tender inside her, and she turned away quickly when the mug thunked on the counter. “Thanks.” She watched as the barista ran her plastic on an old-fashioned credit card swiper with a mechanical clank with enough vigor to rattle the they/them pronoun button on their lapel. “Wow.”

  “Right? Can’t trust a newer card reader because of…” They gestured vaguely to the air.

  Brin raised an eyebrow. “I noticed the bad connection when I got to town.” Another problem, but one she’d encountered before in her travels. She’d just planned to upload when she got back to civilization. And now she’d be doing everything on her phone until she could recover or upgrade her gear. Much ugh. “I’m wondering, is there a place here where I can get some basic goods on the cheap? My van was broken into and I need a few things.”

  “Oh, that sucks.” The barista tore up the CC slip. “What do you need?”

  Brin made a protesting noise. “No, no, I’m not that bad off!” She fumbled for her wallet and shoved a ten across the counter. “Seriously, I just want to grab some essentials so I don’t have to leave yet. Toothbrush, socks, that sort of thing. I’m only going to be here a few days.”

  “There’s the convenience store you passed on the way in, but the thrift shop around the corner would have some of what you need too, probably cheaper and older, but better quality, if used. Don’t get the toothbrush there, obviously.”

  Brin laughed. “More good suggestions, thanks.” She took a sip of the coffee, eyeing the barista. Coffee and gossip always went well together. “I’m Brin, by the way. I’m here for the Sunset Falls UFOs.”

  “Hi, Brin. I’m Devon, and I love UFOs! In fact, I…” Their eyes narrowed, and they leaned over the counter. “Wait. Brin? As in Brin Andersen, conspiracy killer? Brin the legend slayer? Hater of mysteries? I thought I recognized you. I’ve seen some of your shows.” They boggled at her. “Last month, you said there’s no such thing as angels!”

  Brin, who would’ve felt more like a badass slayer if she wasn’t burning the backs of her knuckles on an about-to-spill mug of coffee, wrinkled her nose. “I don’t destroy anything real,” she protested. “And I don’t exactly hate it. I just supply context to put anomalistic phenomena in their proper place so people can understand how the stories work.”

  Devon crossed their arms. “Well, that doesn’t sound like fun.”

  It wasn’t meant to be fun. “I’m sorry,” she said, making sincere eye contact. “I know some people are invested in their local lore. I appreciate that, I do. It’s just that I think the”—lies, delusions, wishful thinking—“lore is more interesting with a real-life perspective.”

  “It is real,” Devon insisted. “Well, some of it is. How could the stories go on so long if there wasn’t some truth to it all?”

  Considering Brin incorporated the latest research on sociology and brain science into her shows to address exactly that question, she knew she wasn’t alienating a die-hard fan. But she didn’t want a disgruntled enemy one-starring her either. “Because we want them to,” she said gently.

  After a moment, the barista nodded, obviously not in agreement but as if that was answer enough. “There’s a UFO watch party at the falls this weekend. You should be there, talk to people who’ve seen things, things like you wouldn’t believe.”

  No, she wouldn’t believe, and wasn’t that the point? But she smiled. “I live to talk about this stuff,” she said with complete sincerity. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Devon nodded, not smiling back. “But there’s a reason Big Sky Country has its stories. Don’t blame me if it changes your entire worldview.”

  She’d been exposed to plenty of watchers and worldviews. Almost all of them yearned for something out there, as if that was some sort of excuse. “I’ll be there,” she said and started to say thanks again, but the chime of the bell above the door interrupted her.

  “Hey, Sol,” Devon called. “Haven’t seen you around lately. What can I get ya?”

  The man who walked toward them… He would be impossible to ignore when he was around.

  Tall, jacked, and not just handsome—stunning. Beneath a windswept mess of dark auburn hair, he had the honed, hawkish features of some imaginary brooding poet from a long-ago age that never happened, the kind who penned rhyming stanzas that involved only the most wild and unlikely of the creatures she demystified.

  A sense of familiarity whispered through her. She wasn’t even internet famous, but just as Devon had recognized her, she’d had a few encounters with fans in real life, and she recognized the expressions on their faces as the feeling inside her: a dawning “ohhh” and a simultaneous longing to draw close…or hide shyly.

  She stiffened. Why was she feeling star-struck by someone who wasn’t anyone, as far as she knew? Should she know him? When she’d been researching the alleged UFO activity in Sunset Falls, she’d found one vague reference to a secret alien outpost disguised as a retreat for the rich and famous. Maybe that was the truth, and the ET rumors were the ridiculous camouflage. Was he a C-list actor hunkered down learning an A-list part, or a wannabe pop singer battling some addiction, or a hack politician’s son hiding from scandal? She didn’t do that sort of reporting, at all. But still she felt strangely mesmerized by him.

  For his part, he gave her a quick once-over as he angled toward the counter to peer into the pastry case. “Hey, Devon. I’ve been around.” He pointed at the cinnamon buns slathered in a thick layer of frosting, the kind of sugary stickiness that needed serious scrubbing to get off a keyboard or camera lens. “May I have three of those to go, please?” He glanced again at Brin, dark eyes assessing. “Whenever you get a chance.”

  Devon plated a slice of lemon cake that was looking a little dry by comparison and boxed up the sticky buns at the same time before sliding both across the counter. “Put it on Evens’ tab? Remind him it’s due at the end of the month.”

  He nodded. “Evens has been…busy, but I’ll pass the word along.” He reached past Brin to snag the pastry box.

  She couldn’t help but take a breath of surprise. The heat coming off him sent a flush through her. She hadn’t acknowledged how the loss of her coat had left her chilled in the Montana autumn, but now she wanted to melt toward him. Maybe steal the jacket right off his bod. The sleek, matte black, vaguely motorcycle-looking coat would be too big for her, just like the rest of him…

  The mingled scents of lemon and cinnamon seemed to play on the tip of her tongue—which otherwise seemed uncharacteristically tied in knots. But another medley of scents teased her too: the not unexpected Montanan tang of woodsmoke and pine and cold air, plus something even more fierce but out of sight, like lightning behind clouds.

  She jerked herself to the side, out of his way, tucking her nose down into the cowl neck of her big sweater. That she lef
t her cake behind said something about how rattled she was. She didn’t even have the excuse of a dry spell in her love life leaving her vulnerable to seductive masculine overwhelm; she had her friends with benefits who happily scratched any itch she might be inclined to indulge.

  Why did she have the sneaking suspicion that lightning hint of something just beyond her reach was going to haunt her?

  “Thanks, Sol,” Devon said. “Oh, and if you have a second… This is Brin Andersen. She needs a few things from Evens’ shop. I saw Kailani working in there earlier, but she’s probably gone for the day. Since you’re here, think you could open up for her?”

  Brin slanted a grateful glance at the barista, considering she still hadn’t managed to utter a word of her own.

  The unconscionably enticing man gave her that searching look again. His eyes were a blue so dark, deepening toward the middle until she couldn’t find the centers, like staring into the night sky, waiting for the first star…

  She blinked hard. Whaaaaat was wrong with her? She forced herself to stand up straight, locking her knees like her heather leggings were steel-banded instead of fleece-lined. “Nice to meet you, Sol.” Dammit, her voice sounded too husky. Was that worse than dazed silence? “My van was burgled on the way here, and Devon said your shop was the best place to stock up.”

  “It’s not my shop,” he said. “I just work for the proprietor.” The word struck her as strangely chosen, and she suddenly noticed the slight lilt of an accent to his voice she couldn’t quite identify. “I’d have to check in to make sure it’s all right.”

  Worked doing what? Where was he from? She wanted to ask, so badly, so nosy. But what could a man like this be doing in a place like Sunset Falls? Her internal, never-distractible proximity-to-bullshit alarm was jangling. But these particular questions weren’t on her agenda. “Oh, don’t bother. I can wait until tomorrow when you’re officially open for business.” Not that she was going to revisit this strange encounter; she had other mysteries she needed to reveal if she was going to recover from her losses.