Page 3 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

My mouth goes dry. The scent of ozone grows stronger, making the hair on my arms stand up. Outside, clouds gather over what was a clear sky moments ago.

This is insane. I'm standing in my family's pizzeria, talking to Chicago's most famous real estate mogul, and he's either completely off his rocker or...

Or what? An alien? A time traveler? Some kind of supernatural being?

The rational part of my brain screams to run away. But there's another part - the part that used to stay up late reading fantasy novels under the covers - that wants to know more.

"Okay." The word comes out barely above a whisper. "When and where can you tell me, then?"

His perfect face breaks into a smile that's equal parts relief and triumph. The storm clouds outside seem to pulse in response.

What am I getting myself into?

His finger brushes my lips, and electricity zips through my body. Not the metaphorical kind - actual static electricity makes my hair stand on end.

"Tonight, at eight o'clock PM as your kind reckons time," Varakian's voice drops to that otherworldly rumble. "I will arrive to take you to dinner. I will explain all then."

"You're going to what?" The words squeak past my lips, but his finger presses against them, silencing me. The scent of ozone intensifies.

"Hush." Those golden eyes bore into mine. "Soon, all will be revealed to you, fair Aileen. You have the heart of a warrior and the soul of a lover. I will count the nanoseconds until we meet again."

He spins on his heel and practically glides to the door. The bell chimes his exit, and I'm left standing there with my mouth hanging open, static still crackling through my hair.

"What's going on?" Pop's voice drifts from the kitchen.

"I think I have a date." The words taste strange on my tongue, like I've just admitted to having dinner with Big Foot and/or the Loch Ness Monster.

CHAPTER 2

VARAK

The elevator doors slide open to the top floor. My thoughts drift back to those fierce brown eyes boring into mine. Such defiance. Such strength.

"Miss Thompson, hold all calls."

"But sir, the board meeting-"

"Cancel it."

The mahogany double doors of my office close behind me with a satisfying thunk. Finally, blessed silence. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcase Chicago's steel and glass canyons, but I barely notice the view today.

That small human female. Aileen. The way she planted her feet and crossed her arms.

"This restaurant is my family's legacy,"she had said. The fire in her voice. Just like a Vakutan warrior defending their ancestral grounds.

My fingers find the hidden panel under my desk. With a soft whir, the pretense falls away. The "modern art" sculptures retract into the floor. Holographic displays shimmer to life along the walls. My true command center emerges from its camouflage.

The massive central display activates, bathing the room in blue light. Property records, business licenses, and surveillance footage tile across the ten-foot screen. Everything about Papa Marella's Pizzeria and its stubborn owner.

But the data streams blur before my eyes. Instead, I see her standing in that doorway again. Head high. Shoulders back. Challenging me despite knowing exactly who Charles Varakian is supposed to be.

"Computer, enhance image sector four."

The security feed zooms in on Aileen's face as she locks up the restaurant. Such spirit. Such pride. In three hundred years on this planet, I've never met a human quite like her.

I tap my wrist device, dropping the holographic disguise. My true form reflects in the window - seven feet of crimson scales and golden eyes. Tonight I'll have to maintain the illusion of Charles Varakian. But for now, I can be myself while I plan our dinner meeting.

"Sir, your vital signs indicate elevated hormonal activity." Teletran's holographic head materializes beside me. "Shall I prescribe something to dampen these... biological urges?"

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