Page 1 of His Little Cinnabar (Eleadian Mates #12)

Chapter One

Janelle

I’ve never felt so out of place in my life. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe how long I’ve stood in this line. I can’t believe I’m actually going to enter this stupid club.

Club Zoom.

The other women in this line are fancy. They have money, nice clothes, friends. Not me. I’m homeless. It’s been years since I had a girlfriend I could giggle with, and the clothes I’m wearing are from a thrift store. I’ve had them longer than most of these women have been busty enough to own a bra.

Sure, I’m curious. Who isn’t curious about Club Zoom? Everyone on the planet is curious. And since only women are permitted to enter, most men only know about the inside from second-hand knowledge.

As I stand in this godforsaken line, my arms wrapped around myself to keep from shivering, I wonder about the women-only policy. I mean what if someone is trans or dressed as a woman? Wouldn’t they be able to get in?

Fuck, it’s cold. It’s not below freezing or anything. The temperature in the day has probably been as high as sixty lately, but it gets so fucking cold at night, and I feel like I’ve been cold for a month without ever fully thawing out.

The main reason I’m in this damn line, waiting to get into the club is so that I can warm up. Two birds with one stone. I’ll get to see what all the hype is about, and I’ll get to spend one fucking evening not shivering.

I don’t have money, so I can’t buy anything, but it’s not required. There is no entrance fee or drink minimum. All that’s needed to get in is a driver’s license, and I have one of those.

It’s a joke. I haven’t owned a car in two years. I haven’t driven a car in longer than that because even when I still had my car, I couldn’t afford gas. Eventually I sold it so I could use the money to stay in hotels on cold nights.

My stomach rumbles, and I wrap my arms around myself tighter, trying to ignore the hunger.

The last time I ate was yesterday when I went to a soup kitchen.

I usually do that once a day, but the particular place that feeds the homeless in my area is outside.

There’s no place to get warmed up. Tonight I’ve chosen heat over food.

“Ma’am?”

I jerk my gaze up, realizing it’s finally my turn.

“ID?” the bouncer asks.

I pull it out of my pocket and hand it to him. My hands are shaking.

The man looks at it closely, his gaze switching back and forth between my ID and my face. Finally he must decide it’s definitely me. He steps to the side. “You’ll need to fill out a waiver. There are copies on the table. Be sure to read everything before you sign.”

I nod and pass him, instantly warmer. The room has several tables where women are seated, reading and signing.

I move to the far side of the room to a table no one is occupying, partly because I don’t want to interact with anyone and partly because the farther away from the door I get the warmer I am.

I pick up one of the waivers and read through it. Sheesh. It’s so formal. They really take this shit seriously. I feel like I’m holding an important legal document.

I don’t live in a complete vacuum. I’m well-aware that the Eleadian men are here on Earth to find wives. Everyone knows if a woman gets selected, she has no choice but to go with the man back to his planet.

What a joke. As if anyone would choose me. I was never even chosen for dodgeball in the first grade. How could I be so lucky as to get chosen to leave this shitty planet?

I’m Plain Jane. Most people don’t even glance at me. If they do, it’s to make fun of me for my mousy hair and childlike looks. I’m twenty-four, and I barely look old enough to drive. I’m surprised the bouncer didn’t question my ID.

I focus on the waiver, trying not to laugh. Ha. Whatever. I sign at the bottom and look around.

The bouncer spots me and heads my direction. He sets his palms on the table across from me. His brows are furrowed. “Did you read everything?”

“Yes.” I can’t keep from trembling. I don’t want him to think I’m nervous. I am nervous, but that’s not what’s causing the trembling. I’m cold and hungry.

“What happens if one of the Eleadian males chooses you tonight?”

I smirk and roll my eyes. “I finally get to leave this fucking planet and go try my luck on another one.”

The man laughs as he pushes off the table and takes my waiver.

“That about sums it up.” He meets my gaze again.

“The majority of women who come here do so out of curiosity, and that’s fine, but it’s important to understand that every few nights one of them is chosen.

There’s no going back. If you’re chosen, you will be on a spaceship bound for Eleadia before you can even blink. ”

I nod. “I’m willing to take that risk,” I respond sarcastically. Is he not looking at me? Can he not see I’m not the sort of person someone would choose for anything, let alone a wife?

My curiosity about the females-only policy is piqued, so I ask, “What keeps men from coming here dressed as a woman? Or what about trans women? Can’t they come?”

He smiles. “Sure. It doesn’t really matter.

According to the Eleadians, it’s Fate who has predetermined who they will be matched up with.

It’s hard for me to grasp that, but I suppose if they were meant to be with a man or a trans woman, Fate would ensure it is so.

” He shrugs. “I’ve never heard of it happening. ”

Huh. Interesting.

He continues, “The Eleadians are here to find a mate. Presumably female. It wouldn’t do much good if this club was filled with men.

But also, it’s not a good date spot. If women came here with their boyfriend or husband and got chosen…

” He shudders. “Well, I can’t imagine how ugly that scene would be.

It’s easier if we have a women-only policy.

” He shoves off the table. “You’re free to go inside. ”

I stand and quickly move toward the door he indicates with a wave of his arm. I want to get inside before he changes his mind about me. I’m sure I’m not the usual patron, even if I am female.

As soon as I’m through the door, I breathe easier. It’s not just warm in here. It’s hot. It’s extremely crowded. Women are packed in like sardines.

It’s also loud. The music makes me cringe. About half the women are dancing on the huge dance floor. The rest are standing around the edges of the room in groups, laughing and leaning into each other to talk. I don’t know how they could properly hear a word even if they shouted.

I do not fit in with this crowd. Granted, I don’t fit in with any crowd.

I never have, not even when I was a semi-regular kid at school.

I wasn’t always this poor. It was just me and my mom, but we had a trailer home.

I had food most of the time. It wasn’t nutritious or anything, but it was food. I had clothes. I was clean.

I let my gaze roam around the room with wide eyes. I’m not sure I’ve ever been anywhere this crowded. I’ve even slept in a few homeless shelters, and none of them were this packed.

The noise is deafening. I hate this music. I’ve always hated pop music. I should have thought about this probability before I decided entering this club was a good idea.

I’m overstimulated. My heart is pounding. Sweat builds up on my forehead. Fuck. I’m going to have a panic attack. I can’t stop it. It’s already happening. My breath catches in my lungs. I lift my hands to cover my ears and squeeze my eyes closed.

I still have my mittens on. I never even took them off to sign the waiver. I’m also wearing my thread-bare, ratty coat. I wore it because it’s nicer than what I’m wearing underneath it.

My mind goes to places I’d rather not, but I can’t stop it.

I’m back in elementary school. Kids are taunting me.

“Plain Jane. Plain Jane.” I can hear their sing-songy voices as though it were happening right now.

“What’s wrong with you, freak?”

“Are you going to bang your head against the wall again?”

“Why are you moaning?”

“Freak. Freak. Freak.”

“Plain Jane, she has no brain.”

I need to get out of here, but I can’t. I’m frozen in my spot. If only I knew where the bathrooms were. I could at least hide in a stall until this attack passes. Or maybe I could hide in there all night. Maybe no one would find me after closing, and I could be warm all night.

I cringe when someone touches me. They don’t just brush against me. Someone sets their hands on my shoulders. Warm, huge hands. I’m aware I’m being crowded by a man. It has to be one of them. One of the Eleadians. Or it could be an employee.

The hands move to my cheeks and tip my head back, but I still have my eyes closed and my hands over my ears. I can’t block out the music well enough, but at least the blinking lights are sufficiently dimmed.

“I’ve got you, Baby girl. Take a breath for me.”

My eyes shoot open, and I gape up at the enormous man standing so close that my chin is touching him—his stomach. He’s more than two feet taller than me.

I knew the Eleadian men were tall and large, but I wasn’t prepared for this. My eyes roll back in my head a moment before the entire room goes black.