Page 17 of I Fell for an Alien Popstar

“It’s not your fault, Vada. There’s a word for it in Velan,” she went on. “It’s used when you see an aura that matches yours—one that connects to yours.” She pressed her hand over her dual-pulse. “Among my people, some believe you can find someone whose frequency fits with yours so completely that you feel it in your body the moment you see them. Your hearts sync. Your light responds. It’s not exactly rare, but some Velans live their entire lives without ever finding it.”

She began to fidget with her hands.

“That sounds… romantic. We don’t have that as humans, and I’ve never experienced true love.”

She fell quiet and looked at me as if I were supposed to piece it together without her actually saying the words.

Her eyes softened. “It means you are my Sola-Ka.”

“Your… solar car?”

“Sola-Ka,” she repeated more slowly. “Fated frequency. The one my pulse is tuned to. The one whose presence stabilizes my biology. You would say…” She frowned, searching for the phrase. “Fated mate?”

As if she’s saying I’m her fated mate.

“Um, fated mate? As in, we’re meant to be together?”

“Mhm.” She leaned in closer. “According to Velan biology,” she said, her tone shifting into something that sounded like she was reciting from a textbook, “once a Sola-Ka is recognized, the pair must complete the union swiftly.”

She smiled brightly.

“Union,” I said, already regretting the follow-up question. “Like…?”

“Bedding,” she said calmly. “Sex. Physical joining. When we are both close to the peak, our pulses automatically sync and the bond seals. It anchors the surge and prevents destabilization of the nervous system.”

“I see,” I lied, looking away. “That’s very science-y.”

I looked back at her and just stared.

Because what?

Her brows knit together. “You do not wish to proceed?”

“Okay, wait, wait, wait,” I said, holding up both hands. “You’re actually serious? You think I’m your fated mate?”

She nodded. “I know you are. The universe says so. My heart says so.”

“And if we have sex and we both finish, the bond just locks in? Permanently? Like, forever forever?”

“Yes,” she said. “Our pulses sync at the peak, and the bond completes. It cannot be undone.”

“And right now, it’s just—what? Hanging there? Open?”

“Lingering,” she said. “The connection recognized you. My body responded. But it is not complete.” She pressed her palm flat over her dual-pulse, almost absent-mindedly. “If we do not complete it, the frequency will begin to weaken. My energy fades. Slowly, but it fades. It is not dangerous. It’s just…”

She searched for the answer.

“It has been described to me as a dull pain. So, like hearing a song through a wall and not being able to reach it.”

“How long does that take to kick in?” I asked.

“I have heard others say months. I do know it’s not urgent. I’m not going to collapse on you.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “But you should know it is there. That is fair, I think.”

“So no pressure,” I mumbled. “Except the literal biological clock ticking inside your chest.”

Every cell in my body screamed yes so loudly that I was surprised she couldn’t hear it.

But here was the thing. I was sitting on a couch in the dressing room of the most famous pop star in the galaxy, and she had just told me that her alien biology had flagged me as her cosmic soulmate.