Page 10 of Right on Time

“Huh, this looks like the ground floor of an ordinary airport,” Hloe Davison muttered. “But when you look up… surprise! It’s stunning.”

Nitiel tried to see the interior from her point of view. The first floor was basically a large hall where documents and baggage were scanned at check-in desks. Six elevators with a panoramic view led passengers from the center of the hall to the level where their boarding gate was located. The lack of a ceiling in this central part of the building and the glass walkways connecting the elevators to every floor made it possible for one to see all the way up to the very top of the rocket. If Hloe Davison found this somewhat outdated design stunning, she was up for a big surprise on the station.

“This way, Lady Hloe.” Nitiel gently guided her with his wing at her back toward one of the glass elevators. “As a fated mate, you can board right away, no security checks needed.”

“Seriously? Dang, this fated mate mistake has its perks.”

His wings drew in at her stubbornness. A part of him was eager to get her to her niel just so Nitiel could see the look on her face upon realizing Commander Siriniel was the male of her dreams. In most cases, the realization struck upon the first time the fated mates looked into each other’s eyes. In rare cases, it took a bit longer but the powerful attraction was there from the very start, no exceptions.

“Where is he going with my suitcase?” the Terran asked as all but one of their group boarded the spacious elevator.

“Officer Burziel will make sure your baggage is secured in the cargo hold.”

“What if I need something for the trip?”

“Anything you need is already aboard.”

“Yeah?” She crossed her arms over her chest, accentuating the gentle swell of her breasts. “How about a change of clothes? I might get cold in space in this dress. Which you insisted I stay in.”

Nitiel hadn’t wanted her to change because they had wasted enough time in her apartment as it was. Now, he wanted her in that dress for an entirely different reason. One he had to squish in the bud, or else the trip would be extra hard. Literally.

“You won’t get cold, Lady Hloe. The onboard temperature is regulated by an AI.”

“Ha! Now that’s reassuring.”

He cast her an exasperated look.

A smile tugged at the corners of her pink lips. “What, Lord Nitiel? Given my luck with AIs, I’m simply mentally preparing to die a popsicle.”

Hloe Davison wasn’t going to die from the cold, but at this rate Nitiel feared he might die from an aneurysm.

CHAPTER 6

What a Romance Novel

Chloe was going to die from the cold. That was what she got for tempting fate – in this case, the onboard AI – with her joke about popsicles.

Initially, everything had been going well. They had boarded the transport to the station – a triangular ship of silvery metal the size of a private jet – with her actually excited. Yes, she was worried about what would happen on the space station. She was also concerned over the loss of her steady income while her business plans were up in the air.

But she couldn’t deny there were pros in her current situation. When else would she have the chance to fly in a limo, use a space port, experience an alien culture? Have a hot guy treat her like royalty? Tease that same sexy alien without consequence? Not that Chloe was adventurous; she simply believed in staying positive.

Now, however, there was no way to stay positive. Not when the life support system had glitched halfway to their destination. Yeah, ‘glitch’ was the word of the day for her. Which might as well be the last day of her life.

The Subcommander had taken them off the planet without a single problem. So confident behind the pilot console, he had made it hard for Chloe to decide what was more exciting to watch from the co-pilot seat: the view through the porthole before her, or the sight of the handsome pilot to her left.

Then he had engaged the autopilot and offered her to rest in her own cabin, watch the view, or do some reading on Gaenthian customs and traditions. Chloe had chosen to stay, preferring to watch and read rather than stay in a claustrophobic room with a single tiny illuminator.

The Subcommander had disappeared somewhere, probably to escape from her lord teasing, and she had gotten so engrossed in the info on the alien tablet that she hadn’t felt the time pass by. Gaenthians’ intricate clan system based on the form and size of one’s horns had gotten Chloe quite amused.

Until the AI had sounded the alarm about the life support system. They had oxygen and gravity, thank God, but the temperature regulator was out of commission. It was going to get really, really cold, and they had nearly half a day of travel left.

The Subcommander had called for assistance, but it would take hours for the nearest ship to reach them. There wasn’t a single onboard blanket because, you see, the AI maintained a perfect temperature on the ship at all times. Getting warm clothes from her suitcase would have been an option, had the baggage been here. Because somehow the Gaenthian carrying her stuff had loaded it on the wrong ship.

Oh, her suitcase with a handful of clothes would eventually get to the space station, no worries. But she wouldn’t. Because Chloe was going to freeze to death.

“Just admit it already: I’m dying a popsicle.”

The Subcommander rumbled something incomprehensible and kept poking at some cables under the console. He was lying on his back, purple wings splayed on the floor, and trying to fix the temperature regulator. He was sweating, while Chloe was shaking like a leaf. Partially due to fear but not only.

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