Page 8 of Alien Healer’s Mate

She’d bolted the second the healer’s back was turned.

Which was not her finest moment because, from what she could work out, the staff here had saved her life. She’d woken up in his medical bay with her brain put back together and her cousin gone and the most beautiful alien she’d ever seen telling her she was going to be fine. And even with all that, the second she could, she’d pulled the leads off her own skin and run.

In her defense, she’d been in that bed a long time. Most of it unconscious, which honestly didn’t count as rest. And if she’d had to stare at that patch of ceiling for one more minute, she was going to lose what was left of her mind.

Anyway. The station outside medical was incredible.

She’d wandered around a bit, following the flow of foot traffic until the corridor opened into a concourse that made the biggest mall she’d ever seen look like a corner shop. It was all pale metal and tall arches, like the inside of an alien cathedral. There were silver-barked trees in the middle of the central court, and if she looked up, there were levels on levels of stores and restaurants above. And there were actual aliens who looked like aliens, not like Kellat, who looked like her dirtiest fantasy come to life. These aliens had scales and fur. Some glided instead of walking, and none of them paid her the slightest attention.

Standing at the railing, she looked around, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, this place is amazing.”

A passing alien with four arms gave her a sideways look and kept walking. Nobody stopped her. Nobody asked where she was supposed to be. Nobody was looking for her. Not yet. Which meant she was free, and she was going to explore.

She’d pulled on the clothes and sneakers someone had left at the foot of the bed. A sweater and joggers. Nothing fancy. The sweater swallowed her, and the joggers had to be rolled twice at the ankles, but she didn’t care; they were clean and not patched anywhere.

She followed her nose.

Something was cooking. Something that was not hospital food and not protein cubes. Meat, definitely meat. And something else, something rich and unfamiliar that made her stomach growl so loudly that another alien, this time with shimmering scales, glanced at her.

“I know,” she told it. “Just talking to myself.”

The alien kept walking.

Right. Aliens. Not all of them were going to find her charming.

She followed the smell into a plaza where the food stalls started. Most of them were too alien. Things were bubbling in vats, things on sticks that were still twitching, things that had more eyeballs than she was comfortable with, especially in a meal. But tucked between a stall selling something purple and jiggly and a bar that was run by a lizard the size of a pony was exactly what she was looking for.

A burger joint.

Well, she didn’t know it was called that. The sign over the counter was in a script she couldn’t read, all blocky, sharp-angled symbols. But the smell was unmistakable and familiar. Grilled meat. Toasted buns. Fries. Her stomach made a noise that was more demand than request.

Shit. She had no money. Not a credit to her name, in a place where she couldn’t even read the prices. Of course, sucked to be her.

She’d just look at the menu, she decided, as she wandered in. The guy behind the counter looked up.

He was humanoid. Mostly. Two arms, two legs, a face arranged in roughly the right order. His skin was a warm lavender, and his eyes were solid black from lid to lid, and ridges ran down the sides of his neck.

“You look lost,” he said. “And hungry.”

She blinked. “You speak English.”

“Trade translator patch. Standard issue for food service, especially here. It’s coded with all the Terran languages.” He leaned on the counter. His smile was the kind that said he’d been working in customer service long enough to find everything amusing. “What can I get you?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t—how much does it cost?”

“Depends on what you’re having.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t have any money.” She blurted out, her fingers tightening on the edge of the counter. “None. Zero. I don’t even know what currency you use here.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He waved a hand, already reaching for a tray. “What do you want?”

She stiffened, her shoulders tensing. “Nah, nothing’s free. What’s the catch?”

He stopped reaching for the tray and pointed to the logo on her sweater.

“You’re a Mate Program candidate,” he said. “The Program picks up the tab. It’s already paid for.”

“Wait. Really?”