Title

Chapter Twenty

They would be launching soon. Inferno, Tigre, Shadow, Psy, and especially Wingman, had urged him to go after his mate, but Chameleon couldn’t forget the horror and betrayal in Kevanne’s shocked eyes. How could anything he’d say change how she felt about him? His actions, however unintentional, had led to the deaths of millions.

After Tigre had shared what he’d learned from Mysk, Chameleon should be elated, but all he could think about was that he’d lost Kevanne. Not just her, but her love and her respect. She would always remember him as a mass murderer. He sank onto his bunk in despair. He didn’t blame her for running away, for hating him. He’d despised himself for the longest time. He didn’t blame Wingman, either. You’d be a fool to trust a Xeno.

So when Wingman had apologized, he had forgiven him.

“Chameleon?” The Avian’s voice bellowed through the communication system into his cabin.

Forgiveness didn’t mean he was ready to talk to anybody. The briefing had delivered unbelievable positive news, but even that couldn’t override the loss, the numbness.

“I know you’re in your cabin. Get your scaled blue tail to the bridge,” Wingman said. “You need to see something.”

“What is it?” he asked. The energy-matter transformer core had worked like a charm. Once Shadow installed it, they’d cloaked the Castaway and were running a pre-flight check prior to liftoff.

“Kevanne. She’s outside.”

“You mean, here?”

“Yes. Here.”

Chameleon sprang off his bunk, charged down the passage, and burst onto the bridge. The feed from the drone showed Kevanne disappearing down the service road.

“She couldn’t see the ship,” Wingman said. “She thinks we left. Hurry! Go to her. Don’t let your mate get away. Fix the mess I created so I don’t have to feel so guilty.”

Cam flew from the bridge then burned a precious minute to return. “If all goes well—”

“We won’t expect you back tonight.” Wingman grinned. “I’ll tell Tigre to hold the ship until you return. There’s no rush anymore. In light of the news about the refugees—”

Chameleon didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. He ran for the transport bay. He hit the open hatch button, hopped on the scooter, and zoomed after her.

He spotted her, head down, trudging along the graveled path. “Kevanne! Wait! Kevanne!”

She froze. Spun around. “Cam!”

The scooter landed with a thump, and he jumped off and ran.

She flew into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He smothered her apology with kisses. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

“It’s not.” She clung to him. “I know you wouldn’t kill people.”

He hugged her against his chest, inhaling her scent. His heart thumped. He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve this, but herian, he’d take it. “I need to explain.”

“No, you don’t. I’m sorry. I know the kind of man you are.”

He grasped her shoulders. “No, I do need to explain because our future and our past has changed. It’s a long story. Can we go back to your house?”

“Yes! Oh, yes!”

He’d transformed to the man from the billboard, and she snuggled up against him on the scooter, her breasts pressed against his back, her thighs gripping his hips, her arms around his waist. After the cloaking shield activated, they zipped to her house in record time.

He stowed the scooter in the garage, assumed his normal form, and clasped her hand, unwilling to be separated for even a minute. Inside, he pulled her to him for a kiss he couldn’t resist, and then he led her to the sofa. “Thank you for coming back for me. For being willing to listen.”

“I love you, Cam. I’m ashamed of how I reacted. How I judged you.”

“I love you, too. You need to know it all, and you can now because of recent changes in our status.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t defend yourself. I looked at you thinking for sure you would deny everything Wingman said, but you never said a word.”

“Because I am responsible. Unintentionally, I set the bombardment in motion.” He took a breath and plunged into the full explanation. “The Xeno Consortium is an alliance of beings who have created other beings by collecting, merging, and replicating DNA. I told you how they started life on many, many planets. What you didn’t know is that they are the most powerful entity in the universe—and they intend to stay that way. Eons ago, they created life and planted it on ’Topia. The ’Topians evolved beyond expectations, to the extent that within a few millennia, they would have the ability to create and manipulate life themselves. The masters feared becoming the mastered and decided to euthanize their creation. I was the lone dissenting vote.”

“So you’re not responsible!”

An entire planet of people had died. With the exception of the few thousands he’d managed to save, an entire civilization had been wiped out. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, minimize the situation.

“No, I am. It was unintentional, but to use an Earth metaphor—I put ’Topia on the consortium’s radar screen.”

Chameleon pressed his lips together. “In retrospect, signs of what the council intended to do were there long before the vote. Everything on ’Topia was scrutinized, analyzed, and documented. They became the subject of frequent discussions. I knew the High Council was concerned, but I didn’t realize the situation was as serious as it was. Many millennia had passed since the consortium had destroyed a project, a civilization.”

“But how were you responsible?”

“I monitored galactic communication and performed threat analyses, reporting to the council on any potential trouble areas—wars, insurrections, invasions, famine.

“I’d become aware of a planet that was foundering, its civilization in danger of dying out. I reported the matter to the council, with a comparison to the ’Topian’s rapid progress. It was just a footnote mentioning that ’Topians had exceeded forecasted maturation, but it alarmed the council. Unfortunately, I had moved on to my next project.” He twisted his mouth. “The next thing I knew, the council had deemed ’Topia an AOC—an area of concern, and handed management over to the planetary proctor for further investigation. I knew then the ’Topians were in serious trouble.

“I recruited allies to assist with possible relocation and searched for other worlds to accept the people while gathering a fleet of rescue ships.”

“How could you relocate an entire planet of people?”

“I couldn’t. It was too late. Logistically, there’s no way to transport millions quickly and secretly. The only chance of survival was to fight off an attack. However, the ’Topians were pacifists, and convincing them to shore up their military was no easy task. I intended to help them, to divert Xeno weapons to ’Topia. I had a contact in the ’Topian government. I knew him as Wisp—which I’ve since discovered was Shadow. I urged him not to trust the Xeno Consortium and to tighten their defenses. At the same time, I managed to sneak about 10,000 people off ’Topia and send them to haven planets. It was a fallback plan. If I failed, at least, the ’Topian species and civilization would survive and hopefully build itself up again. Well, I failed.”

Kevanne squeezed his hand. “Why not tell the ’Topians what was happening?”

“I regret not doing that every day of my life. The consortium has spies everywhere. At the time, I feared the information would get back to the council and they would have destroyed ’Topia immediately—and executed everyone in the opposition. For sure they would have noticed a mass exodus, and the consortium would have tracked them down and destroyed any planet that provided them refuge. I believed I had more time—that the bombardment was years away. But I’d been fed misinformation. The council had set a trap.

“When I discovered the bombardment was imminent, I rushed to ’Topia to meet with their leaders and to evacuate as many people as I could. As soon as I landed, the bombardment began. I’d managed to airlift one large group of refugees when I encountered Tigre, Wingman, Psy, Inferno—and Shadow. I led them to my ship. They didn’t trust me at first. I would have gone back to try to save more people, but Wingman decided they’d have a better chance of survival if they had a Xeno hostage. He didn’t know I was on their side.”

He clenched and released his fists. “The situation was hopeless anyway. The Castaway launched. The view of the planet’s surface was horrific. It didn’t look like a planet, but a star, a ball of flaming gas. A Xeno ship monitoring the bombardment spotted us. We had no choice but to flee. They fired on the Castaway and damaged critical systems. We entered jump space on reduced power, sustained further damage, and ended up here on Earth.”

“You’re Xeno, but you’ve always referred to the Xenos as them, rather than us, and you voted against the destruction. What made you different from the other Xenos?”

“The consortium asserts that since they created the other worlds, they own them, and therefore have the right to destroy them.” Chameleon shook his head. “It felt wrong to me. A few other Xenos share my belief in individual sovereignty, and the concept is growing but not fast enough. I was the highest ranking official who held that belief. Living beings have the potential to achieve and accomplish amazing things. If they are created to evolve, then let them evolve! What gives anyone the right to decide the fate of another?

“The council never stated it as such, but the deciding factor to destroy the ’Topians was that they didn’t pay homage. As they advanced, they began to lose their awe of their creators and started to view themselves as equals. On other planets, the Xenos are revered as gods. People pray to them, build churches in their name. Not on ’Topia.

“All beings are of equal worth. Is a child less than the parent who created him or her?” He’d held those concepts for a long time but had never spoken them aloud. He raked a hand through his hair. “To voice such a concept would be considered an act of sedition, and I could have been put to death.” He flexed his shoulders. “I was a seditionist, an insurrectionist, a saboteur of sorts. In monitoring communications, I happened upon Earth, became enthralled with your quaint customs, so I chose to erase the planet’s existence from the database. Now it has become our refuge.”

“You protected us. It’s only fair we protect you.”

“There were so many planets I couldn’t protect. I couldn’t hide them all. And someone will take my place on the council.”

“You need to let go of your guilt. You can only do what you can do.” She scooted closer to him and linked her arm through his. “I love you.”

He pressed his lips to hers in an intimate, healing kiss. How had he gotten so lucky? He’d never dared to hope he’d find a mate. To find Kevanne.

“I love you, too. So much. I believe you’re my genmate,” he said. “We were meant to be together.” It made him wonder if Earth had only been a donor world...or if the Xenos had planted some seeds.

“If you love me, then will you do something for me?”

“Anything within my power,” he said.

“Stop blaming yourself. Let go of the guilt. Let yourself heal.”

“I’ll try.” He tucked her under his arm and leaned against the sofa. “If you’ll do something for me.”

“What?”

“Love me forever. Be my mate. Let us have children and grow old together. We’ll plant and sell lavender. Live, love, and laugh together.”

She pulled away and gaped at him. “It sounds like you’re asking me to marry you.”

He nodded. “The Earth mating ceremony. Yes, let’s do it.”

“But...but...aren’t you leaving—I mean, yes! Yes, I’ll marry you! You’re not leaving?”

He laughed and grabbed her in a hug. “No, I’m not leaving. I’m staying. That’s the next part, the best part of the long story.

“We had two situations forcing us to leave. First, with the consortium hunting for us, we didn’t want to jeopardize the people here. While I was searching for potential haven planets, I’d changed Earth’s coordinates in the database, swapping it out with a barren moon in the Andromeda galaxy. But trust me when I say that the consortium does not leave loose ends. They would never stop hunting for us. The other impetus for leaving was to assist the last group of refugees. There hadn’t been time to secure a safe haven for them. With so few ’Topians left in the galaxy, we had to do everything we could to ensure their survival, so we needed to locate them and lead them to asylum.” He could still hardly believe what had happened.

“We’d wondered why Mysk had been so eager to help us, so accepting of our story. He is a ’Topian refugee from that last ship. They did escape, and they went through the jump. But they got caught in the ripple in time. Mysk and his shipmates landed on Earth fifty years ago.”

“Time travelers?” Her eyes were wide.

“That wasn’t their intention, but yes.”

“Then why didn’t anybody know about them? Other than the extraterrestrials who have arrived through the Intergalactic Dating Agency, I haven’t heard of other aliens visiting Earth,” she said.

“They knew as we did, that if the consortium heard chatter about ’Topians, they would investigate, so they kept their presence a secret. Those who could pass for human, like Mysk, who is a Verital or the shifters who can personify like me, assimilated into Earth society. The others formed communities in remote locations. One of the refugees founded the Intergalactic Dating Agency. She started it to bring aliens to Earth. She figured if people got used to seeing aliens, the ’Topians could better integrate.”

Kevanne frowned. “But isn’t the consortium looking for the ’Topian refugees? If they come out of hiding, won’t that present a greater risk?”

“That’s where the paradox comes in,” he said. “The ’Topians have been here for half a century. Since they went back in time, they weren’t on ’Topia during the bombardment, so the consortium never saw them leave. The consortium isn’t looking for them at all.”

He could feel himself grinning like an idiot as relief and joy ballooned. Now that he had his mate, he could appreciate the incredible change in circumstances. He still hadn’t told her the most important part. “The refugees weren’t the only ones who got caught in the ripple—we did, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“We landed on Earth in the past as well.”

“I don’t understand. You’re here now. Present day.”

“Close but not quite,” he said gleefully. “Shadow was able to intercept the High Council communications on the day of the bombardment and, by piecing together the time signatures from the Castaway, determined that we landed on Earth an hour before we’d left ’Topia.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the consortium believes we all died in the bombardment. It means no ship came after us and followed us into jump space. The consortium isn’t searching for us.”

“So you’re free?”

“As free as we can be. We still need to keep quiet about who we are, where we’re from. We don’t want aliens returning to their home worlds and talking about ’Topians on Earth. If the consortium were to hear that...” He shook his head. “The Intergalactic Dating Agency is going to provide all of us with alternate identities. As soon as that comes through, we’ll be able to live openly. Earth is our home now.”

“Everybody is staying?”

He nodded. “Tigre, Psy, Wingman, and Inferno plan to remain on Earth. Shadow is undecided, but he has options now.” There were several Vaporians among Mysk’s people, so Shadow might be able to find a mate.

“That’s wonderful!” Her face lit up, and she launched herself into his arms. He caught her. Now he could always be there to catch her. “I’m so happy,” she said.

Their lips fused, and he kissed her the way a man kisses the mate with whom he could spend forever. Joy, gratitude, and desire crested. She curled up on his lap, and he caressed her, discovering her body all over again because this time she belonged to him. This time there was no specter of departure hanging over his head.

Lavender infused his senses. He nuzzled her neck. “Did I ever tell you how much I like lavender?” he murmured.

She giggled. “You, too?”

When she whispered they should move to the bedroom, he needed no further encouragement. He scooped her up and shouldered his way to the other room.

Clothing, like their doubts, old guilt, and sorrows, fell away, and body and feelings were laid bare. “I never dared to hope I would ever find my mate,” Chameleon said.

“Neither did I.” She pressed her naked body against him and wound her arms around his neck. “I love you so much,” she said.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” He lowered her onto the bed and did just that.

* * * *

Thank you for reading Chameleon (Alien Castaways 1). As you probably guessed, Chameleon’s fellow castaways each get their own books! Wingman is next. Download your copy of his heart-warming, steamy sci-fi romance: https://books2read.com/GetWingman.

Read on for an excerpt.

* * * *

Wingman

Alien Castaways 2

Chapter One

“If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands...” A dented white van crept down Silver Avenue for the third time, playing a tinny tune over and over.

“Stop! Stop!” A human girl child raced out of a fenced yard.

The vehicle rolled along, its driver oblivious.

“Wait!” She ran down the cracked sidewalk. “Wait!”

At the end of the block, the driver must have noticed her because the vehicle pulled to the curb and waited. In her haste, the little girl dropped a handful of coins. She snatched them up and took off running again.

Earth culture fascinated Wingman; everything was so alien. Through observation of humans, he discovered many strange and wondrous things—some not so wonderful things, too, but the good outweighed the bad. Curious about the van and what the child wanted so much, he tucked his wings against his body and moved closer. It had rained all week, but today the sun shone bright and warm, causing him to perspire under the concealing cape.

This was one of his rare daytime forays. Usually he ventured out at night when he’d be less visible, but this morning he’d awakened from another bad dream. The helplessness engendered by the nightmare had lingered, so he’d sought some exercise to shake off the emotions. He’d decided to visit Argent, a small town tucked between Lake Coeur d’Alene to the south and Lake Pend Oreille to the north. It had taken less than five minutes to stroll the main street running through town, so he’d expanded his exploration to the surrounding neighborhood.

He and his fellow ’Topians could go out into public now. Yesterday they had received new alien ID cards through the Intergalactic Dating Agency. He’d been assigned an alias and a new planet of origin. It was unlikely the High Council would search Earth for them, but you couldn’t be too careful when the Xeno Consortium wanted you dead.

With their safety as close to assured as it could be, he and the other castaways figured they could begin assimilating into the native population. No one on Earth had wings, though, and he felt conspicuous.

The little girl caught up with the truck.

An odd prescience urged him to duck behind a weathered wooden fence and observe through the cracks.

A man wearing a ball cap with the brim backward leaned out the window. A straggly long beard and sunglasses hid his face. “Well, hello, honey! I didn’t see you there for a minute! What can I get you?”

“Do you have orange push-ups?”

“You bet I do!”

He ducked inside before emerging with a colorful tubular object. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She placed her coins into his outstretched palm.

In pulling his arm back inside, he bumped the window, dropping the money onto the street. “Oopsie!”

“I’ll get it!” The girl knelt and retrieved the coins.

The man jumped out of the vehicle. “You live around here?”

“That way.” She pointed with her push-up and handed him the money.

He slipped the coins into the pocket of his jeans. “How about I give you a ride back to your house?” His ingratiating smile caused Wingman’s feathers to sharpen.

She shook her head. “I’d get in trouble. I’m not allowed to accept rides from strangers. Mom’s gonna be mad anyway if she finds out I left the house to get ice cream.”

“Maybe she won’t need to know...if I get you home right away.” He slid a panel open on the van. Hop in. You’ll be home in two seconds.”

“No...I can’t.” She backed away.

He grabbed her wrist. “You need to come with me.” The push-up fell to the sidewalk, and he kicked it into the street.

“Stop it! Let me go!” She hit at him with her tiny fists.

He clapped a hand over her mouth, picked up her thrashing body, and swung around to the van.

“No!” Wingman roared. His cape fell away as his wings unfurled. He leaped into the air, flying across the distance to land between the man and the open door.

“Who the hell are you?” The dagger and gun tattooed on the man’s neck suggested he considered himself some sort of badass, but he had no idea who he was about to deal with.

“Let the girl go.” Feathers sharpened to gleaming points. He hated to dismember the man in front of the child, but he couldn’t allow him to take her.

The man eyed the blades. “Fuck it.” He dropped the child. “She’s not worth it.” He leaped into the vehicle and screeched away in a blaze of burning rubber.

Tears ran down the little girl’s face, but she wiped them away and stared up at him.

“Are you all right?” He retracted the blades and folded his wings.

“You’re an angel!” Her eyes were wide. “My guardian angel. You saved me!”

Better she assumed he was an angel—whatever that was—than an Avian from ’Topia, so he didn’t enlighten her. He picked up a bright, shiny penny left behind and handed it to her. “What’s your name?”

“Izzy Mason.”

“My name is...Wynn.” The alias coming from his mouth sounded strange. “We’d better get you home.” He motioned with his head, and she fell into step beside him. He shortened his stride to accommodate her. She trusted too easily. She’d almost been abducted, and now she followed another stranger down the street? Why wasn’t she supervised? “How old are you?”

“Almost six! My birthday is on Saturday.”

“Where are your parents?”

She hunched her shoulders, and guilt washed across her cheeks. “Mom is taking a nap.”

What kind of mother slept the day away, leaving her defenseless child to fend for herself? Not my business. What these humans do has nothing to do with me. But his gut had already tightened into a knot.

You had to cherish what you had because life was unpredictable. One minute you were ignorantly happy, about to be mated, and in a flash, everyone you loved died, your home was destroyed, and you found yourself hiding on an alien planet. He glanced at the child. Freckles danced across her nose as she innocently skipped beside him. Her mother is sleeping? Sleeping?

“Mom was at the Whitetail until really late last night.”

The bar in Argent was called the Whitetail.

“She told me to stay in the house, but I heard the music. I used to get ice cream all the time in my old neighborhood but not here. Trucks never come by. I didn’t want to wake Mom, so I got some money out of her purse. I waved like you’re supposed to. I thought the truck would stop, but it kept going and going.”

Almost like it had been leading her away.

She peered up at him with a hopeful expression. “Do you know my daddy?”

“No, I’ve never met him.” Why would she think he had? And why didn’t the father keep an eye on her?

Her face fell. “Oh. I hoped you did. He went to heaven.”

“I’ve never been to heaven.” He didn’t know where that was. Since landing on Earth, he’d only been to Argent, Coeur d’Alene, and to Seattle once.

Her brows drew together over bright blue eyes. “But you’re an angel! Where do you come from if not from heaven?”

“Well, according to my ID card, Dakon,” he replied.

“Is that in Idaho?”

“No. Someplace far.”

“Washington?”

“Something like that.”

“Can you play a harp?”

“No.”

“Can you float on a cloud?”

“No.” He stopped and picked up the cape he’d dropped. He pulled his wings in closer and slung the garment over his shoulders.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re an angel?”

“You’re the one who called me an angel,” he said.

“Have you met God?”

The Xenos, who’d created life on many other worlds, considered themselves to be gods. His fellow castaway, Chameleon, was a Xeno. So, technically...“Yes.”

Her eyes widened. “Is he nice?”

“He’s all right. We’ve had our differences, but we get along now.” It had been hard to overlook Chameleon’s position on Xeno Consortium High Council, which had ordered the destruction of ’Topia because its people had refused to pay homage. Rare for a Xeno, Chameleon had a conscience and had fought to save the planet. Wingman owed him his life, so he kind of had to trust him, but letting his guard down had been hard.

“If you make God mad, you could end up in the belly of a whale or turned to a pillar of salt. He’ll make it rain and flood your house or even send you to Hell,” she said. “Then you burn forever and ever.”

Her god sounded a lot like a Xeno.

They reached her house, a small bungalow with a sagging porch and peeling paint. But the grass was neatly shorn, a welcoming wreath of colorful flowers hung on the front door, and white lacy curtains flapped in the faint breeze.

He opened the chain-link gate. “Go inside. Stay there until your mother awakens. No more running after ice cream vans.” The mother would never know how close she’d come to losing her child.

“All right. Bye, Mr. Angel.” She entered the yard, and he closed the gate, waiting to ensure sure she went in. She skipped to the front porch and then turned around. “Could you come to my birthday party Saturday?”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be appropriate—”

“Please? We just moved to Argent, and I don’t know anybody other than Mrs. Beckman, and she’s old. It would be nice to have a real angel at my party.”

“I’m old, too,” he said.

“Not as old as Mrs. Beckman!” Blue eyes beseeched.

Pity the male population when this one grew up. She was laying it on, but her plaintive expression tugged at his chest. “No, I can’t—”

“It’s at twelve o’clock in the afternoon, after Mom gets done sleeping.”

This was Thursday, and she already knew her mother would be napping in the middle of the day on Saturday? Maybe the mother should spend a little less time sleeping and more time taking care of her child. Maybe he ought to inform her what had almost happened while she’d slept.

“Twelve o’clock? Saturday? I’ll be here,” he said.

“Yay! I’ll tell my mom.” She entered the house and closed the door.

Chapter Two

Of all the nights! Although the Whitetail closed at 2 a.m., a couple of regular customers had nursed their last drinks until 2:45 when Marty nudged them out the door. Delia hadn’t gotten to bed until well after 3 a.m.

Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she forced a cheerful face. Nothing could be allowed to ruin this day. “Happy Birthday, sweetie!” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head as she sat at the kitchen table. “What would you like for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? Bacon and eggs?” She didn’t even suggest cereal, which Izzy ate most days. This morning was special.

“Waffles with strawberries. And whipped cream.”

“Good choice.” An easy choice, thank goodness. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she dropped two frozen waffles into the toaster. She got her daughter a glass of milk and then sliced some strawberries.

“You excited about your party?” Guilt gnawed at her. The party would be attended by two people: Izzy and herself.

“Uh-huh.”

Having fled Pittsburgh the day after school ended for the summer, they’d only been in Argent three weeks, so Izzy hadn’t had a chance to meet other kids. Delia intended to compensate. She’d asked for extra hours at the Whitetail where she worked as a cocktail waitress so she could buy some nice presents, including a big surprise, which the sitter, who lived a couple of houses over, had picked up this morning and was keeping for her.

Izzy had asked for a tea party like they had in England, so Delia had ordered scones and petit fours online. She would serve sandwiches cut into little triangles. The living room would be decorated with streamers and balloons.

The waffles popped up. She placed them on a plate, topped them with sliced strawberries and a generous squirt of canned whipped cream.

“Syrup, too, please.”

She set a bottle of Log Cabin on the table and stifled a grimace as her daughter doused her breakfast. She’d had way too little sleep to stomach food this early. “Tell me again who you invited to your party?” She needed to know how many chairs to set around the play table.

“You, Bubbles, Jessica, Emma and Emily, and the angel.”

Bubbles was Izzy’s teddy bear, Jessica her favorite doll, and Emma and Emily were imaginary identical twins her daughter had “met” after leaving her friends behind in Pittsburgh. The angel was a new one.

“Oh, we have a last-minute guest?” She reminded herself many kids had pretend friends, but she would be glad when school started in the fall and Izzy could meet some real children.

“Uh-huh. His name is Wynn. But I call him Angel.”

“He? A boy angel?”

“Angels can be boys.”

“Of course they can.” Until now, all the imaginary friends had been girls.

“I asked him if he knew Daddy, but he said he’s never met him.”

Josh had been killed in a traffic accident when Izzy was five months old. Delia had done her best to keep her high school sweetheart and husband alive in memory and in heart, placing photos around the house and sharing stories about him.

“Well, Heaven’s a big place,” she said.

Josh had adored his baby daughter, and he would have been thrilled to see what a bright, beautiful, imaginative child she’d become. He’d been robbed. She and Izzy had been robbed.

The world had lost a good man.

“Oh, he’s not from Heaven. He’s from Dakon. I think that’s in Washington,” she said, her whipped cream-smeared face perfectly serious.

The stuff her daughter came up with! Although her imagination sometimes concerned her, Delia was proud of Izzy’s cleverness. Dakon, Washington? What detail!

Very specific detail. She frowned. New to this part of the States, she’d never heard of Dakon. Her heart stopped beating. What if this angel named Wynn wasn’t make-believe? Izzy spent her time at home or at Mrs. Beckman’s, so she shouldn’t have been able to meet anybody Delia didn’t know about, but after what had happened with Colson... “Sweetie, your angel is like Emily and Emma, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he pretend, or is he a real person?”

“Oh, he’s real!”

Her pulse skyrocketed. “How old is he? Is he a grown-up?” Please let him be another kid.

“Oh, yeah. He’s old.”

Don’t panic. “Tell me more about him.”

“He has wings out to here!” Her daughter spread her arms wide. “He has feathers, but they’re sharp. And he can fly fast. He wears a cape, too. He’s like Super Angel!”

Not real. She exhaled her relief in a whoosh that Izzy hadn’t been approached by a pedophile, but that still left her concerned about the imaginary friends. Had her daughter lost the ability to distinguish between make-believe and reality? Maybe it had been a mistake to humor her fantasy life.

“That means not real, Isabella. You scared me half to death. Your angel is pretend like Emma and Emily.”

“No, he’s real, Mom! He’s coming to my party, you’ll see.”

She rubbed her eyes, gritty from lack of sleep. For the hundredth time, she second-guessed her decision to pull up stakes in Pittsburgh and move to a town she’d visited only once. She’d believed she’d been doing the right thing to keep Izzy safe, but back home her outgoing daughter had been happy and thriving. Having just finished kindergarten, she read at a third-grade level. She’d had many friends. Live, real kids.

They had to have a serious talk.

But not on her birthday. She couldn’t ruin this day for her. She would proceed with the tea party for Izzy, her dolls, and the imaginary friends. But after today, Izzy’s “friends” might not be invited over anymore.

* * * *

“Can I come out now?” Izzy yelled from the bedroom.

“Not yet! Couple more minutes!” Delia swatted at a helium-filled balloon that floated into her way, pushed the thumbtack into the HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner, and climbed off the stepladder. The sign was a little lower on the right than the left, but Izzy wouldn’t notice.

She stowed the ladder in the garage then dashed to the kitchen to bring out the food: tiny peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches—mostly for her—some raisin scones, and pretty pink petit fours. She filled a teapot with fruit punch and then arranged the food on the tiny table set for six with delicate china teacups and dessert plates she’d picked up at the antique store in Argent for cheap.

“Now? Can I come out now?” Izzy called again.

“Two minutes!”

“That’s what you said the last two times.”

Darn kid remembers everything. “Just a little longer!” Delia grabbed Bubbles the bear, snapped a tiny party hat on him, and plunked him in one of the kid-sized chairs. She put Jessica the doll next to him and stuck a hat on her, too. She set two more pint-size hats by the places set for the invisible Emma and Emily, a big hat where she would sit, and the biggest, fanciest hat at Izzy’s place.

She stepped back and surveyed the living room. Wrapped presents on the side table, check. Guests present and accounted for, check. Food, cake, balloons, birthday banner—check, check, check, and check. One task remained—retrieve the surprise present.

“Okay! You can come out now!” she yelled.

Izzy ran into the living room and skidded to a stop. Her eyes danced at the sight of the decorations, the table setting, the presents. “It’s beautiful!” She threw her arms around Delia. “I love you, Mom!”

“I love you more. Happy Birthday, sweetie.” She kissed her. I promise next year you’ll have a real party with real kids. I’ll make it up to you. “Let’s sit down and have some lunch.”

“Tea,” Izzy corrected.

“Right. Tea.” Technically, it should have been served later in the day, but it fit in better with their meal schedule to have it at lunchtime.

Izzy started to sit but then froze. “There aren’t enough seats.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are only six chairs. Where is Angel going to sit?”

“Can’t he sit there?” She pointed at a vacant seat.

“Emily is sitting there.”

“We don’t have extra chairs. Your play table only came with six.”

“Then he can sit here.” She grabbed Bubbles, removed his hat, and tossed him on the sofa.

Apparently her daughter had established a pecking order among her toys and invisible friends. A pretend angel ranked above a teddy bear.

Izzy took her seat and donned her hat.

Taking care not to bump the table with her knees, Delia sat and put on her hat.

Her daughter picked up the teapot and said in a formal tone, “Would you care for tea, Delia?”

“Delia?” She arched her eyebrows.

“Mom?”

“That’s better. And, yes, I would. Thank you.”

She poured punch in all the cups.

Delia’s stomach growled. She’d been so busy getting ready for the party, she hadn’t eaten anything. She reached for an egg salad sandwich.

Izzy cleared her throat.

“What?”

“Angel isn’t here. It’s polite to wait for all the guests before starting to eat. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

Delia glanced pointedly at the vacant seat once occupied by Bubbles. “How do you know he’s not here?”

Izzy rolled her eyes.

“Don’t do that. It’s rude.”

“Sorry!” She hunched her shoulders. “Angel promised to be here at twelve o’clock. Is it twelve o’clock yet?”

“Five minutes ’til.”

“Then we have to wait five more minutes.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both. Tomorrow they would talk, but for now, maybe the big present would help. She removed her hat. “Tell you what. You wait here for your angel. Mrs. Beckman has been keeping one of your presents. I’m going to get it. Stay here. Don’t leave the house.”

She had planned to bring in the puppy at the end so it didn’t upstage the party, but her daughter needed a real friend now. Maybe, hopefully, with a dog she’d forget about Emily, Emma, and the angel.

* * * *

He has wings, but this alien is no angel.

Traumatized by the deaths of his family and the destruction of his planet, Wingman lands on Earth in search of a haven and the solitude to nurse his emotional wounds. When a chance decision foils a kidnapping, he’s drawn into the life of a young widow and her daughter. He’s shocked to discover the human woman is his genmate, the one he’s genetically bonded to.

To escape a stalker, Delia and her imaginative, impressionable daughter flee to a small town where nobody can find them. She’s concerned, but not overly so, when her daughter says she’s invited an angel to her birthday party.

Until the winged alien actually shows up. After a rocky start, Delia begins to see Wingman for what he really is—one of the kindest, most protective, sexiest men she’s ever met.

But just as passion deepens their bond, dangers resurface to threaten Delia and her child. Will Wingman be able to confront the demons of his past to make the sacrifice necessary to protect them?

Get Wingman: Alien Castaways 2: https://books2read.com/GetWingman.

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