In my studies, I found very little evidence that humans develop the kind of bonds with their mates that Eleadians do. They’re rarely as committed to their life partners as we are. They don’t cherish and worship them. If they did, they wouldn’t use words like fuck to describe their mating habits.

The music is very loud. The dance floor is crowded. Females of every size, shape, and race are pawing at me as I make my way through them. I hadn’t expected the pull toward my mate to be quite so magnetic. In this room filled with hundreds of females, I expected to be bombarded with more scents than my brain could process. Instead, my mind is blocking everyone but my mate.

Yes, it’s stunning, but I can scent my intended from across the room even though I can’t see her in person yet. Her scent is already filling me, consuming me, bringing me to my knees.

I’m not alone. Another Eleadian male is by my side. He believes the pixie of a female who seems to have arrived with mine is his chosen. I’m grateful we aren’t after the same female, though my understanding is that wouldn’t have been possible. As soon as I spotted her on the monitor, she was mine. Already, without me having met her yet, she is aligning with me. No other Eleadian male will be drawn to her. Her fate is sealed.

Suddenly, I manage to politely shake off the last few females blocking me from my intended, and there she is. Her back is to me. She’s talking to her much shorter friend, but she stops. Her spine goes rigid, and her head pops up.

She can’t see me yet, but she has sensed me. Even though that’s not something that happens to humans, it’s so powerful that even human females experience it with our species.

I stand behind her, only a few inches separating us, inhaling deeply, memorizing her scent. Her hair is a glorious fall of thick waves down her back. Her skintight black dress accentuates her curves. I can see why human males find her type attractive, but on the other hand, that’s probably not the case at all. The reason I’m drawn to this female is because she’s mine. Fate brought her to me. It wouldn’t matter what she looked like; I would be magnetically pulled to her.

I sense her fear and anxiety. I can smell it, as well as feel it, wafting from her emotions. I’m breathing heavily. I want to touch her. When I do, some of her panic will ease. When I nick her skin, more of her anxiety will disappear.

For some reason, I’m savoring this moment. I know things are going to be difficult for the next several hours. Though human females flock by the hundreds to Club Zoom, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of my kind, they don’t usually believe they will actually be chosen.

It’s mindboggling. I’ve been told these females must read and sign an extensive document indicating they understand the risks of entering the establishment. By now, all of society is aware that once they have stepped into the club, they might be chosen and not have the option to return to their lives on Earth.

And yet, these females take a risk no Eleadian will understand, and then they seem shocked and unwilling when push comes to shove.

Their unwillingness lasts only as long as their intended Eleadian mate permits. We have the power to convince them they belong to us, but in most cases, it’s best to give them a bit of time to come to that conclusion on their own. Starting the relationship without permitting a female to believe she has any freewill in the decision is apparently not wise.

I inhale deeply, nearly moaning around my Little girl’s pheromones. She’s wearing too many conflicting scents—her body soap, her shampoo, the makeup on her face, and some sort of perfume. All of those are competing with the powerful pheromones that belong only to her.

I’m anxious to remove those smells from her body so I can lower my nose to the crook of her neck and breathe in nothing but my Little girl. Soon. I need to tread carefully first.

Females are whispering around me. They’re aware that I’ve made my choice. I ignore their comments and groans of disappointment. Meanwhile, my Little girl is still facing her friend. I have yet to see her face other than on the monitor.

She’s fighting the magnetic pull. She’s fighting it because she’s nervous and rightfully scared. Understandable. And yet I’m anxious for her to turn around. I’m sure I’ve only been standing here a few seconds; it seems like longer.

Her arms are tanned and bare. The tight dress she’s wearing has tiny straps at her shoulders. By human standards, I know this is sexy. Human males love this sort of clothing. It’s out of an Eleadian male’s realm of comprehension because we would never cover our female’s bodies in any clothing at all, but I’m aware how attractive she is.

I take a step closer, leaving only inches between us. I’m breathing her in, savoring every moment of this first meeting. I’m guessing she’s five-ten, and she stands over six feet in the heels, but I’m seven-six, so I tower over her.

I can see her friend over the top of my mate’s head, but she has backed up, scrambled really. She’s shoving herself into the corner of the room, putting several feet between her and her friend.

I know why. She has sensed my friend Surgient who has come to claim her. She seems even more panicked than my own Little girl.

Several females fill the space between my girl and Surgient’s, blocking their view of each other. My Little is breathing heavily, a hint of arousal already filling my nose as she too inhales my pheromones.

Our matings are powerful and undeniable. Her body is aligning with mine even though we haven’t looked each other in the eyes, and she hasn’t seen any part of me.

When I can’t take it any longer, I set my hands gently on her bare shoulders. “I know you sense me, Little one,” I say in a deep voice.

She’s panting. Her chest rises and falls with every breath. Now that I’m close enough to look over the top of her, I can see the front of her dress. The material is tight across her chest. She’s not wearing a bra. She doesn’t need one. For one thing, her breasts are obviously high and pert—the kind human females covet, and males, too. For another thing, the thin straps of the dress prevent her from being able to wear a bra without the straps showing.

I’ve gathered from my extensive research that human females have the oddest relationships with their clothes but especially their bras. They have so many style preferences, but most of them have a tendency to spend a lot of money on the article of clothing that covers their breasts and props them up.

Eleadian males do not permit our females to make any such choices. Not about anything, but especially not with regard to clothing. That fact is one of the hardest things for human females to understand and come to terms with when they arrive on Eleadia.

Little girls on Eleadia do not live in a hierarchy with other girls. Whatever their place was on the human food chain, it vanishes after they are claimed. The female I’m touching will never wear makeup again. She won’t fix her own hair. She won’t wear clothes after I remove these. She won’t be in competition with other females she befriends when we arrive at home—including her friend who is currently being claimed by Surgient.

I can’t know for sure if the two of them lived on the same level of the human hierarchy or not, since they are so vastly different, but either way, that ends now. The only two things my Little girl will wear on my planet will be the soft, absorbent material made from the sumach plant that will cover her bottom and the dainty gemstones I choose to adorn her nipples.

The thought of selecting those stones makes my mouth water. I can’t wait to see her nipples and the rest of her body. The tone of her skin and color of her eyes will help me decide what stones I’ll want to see dangling from her pretty titties for the rest of our lives.

I wonder if the bronze color of her arms and shoulders extends to her entire body. I’m aware that many human females intentionally expose themselves to the harmful UV rays from their sun or even artificial light. They do so for the express purpose of darkening their skin.

I’ll know soon if my Little girl has done so herself or if she is naturally this shade all over. By the time we get to my home after a six-month voyage, her skin will have returned to its natural shade. The formula I feed her will have everything she needs to protect her skin from our sun. She won’t darken, nor will I need to apply lotions to protect her.

My Little girl draws in a deep breath. “I’m scared,” she whispers.

I slide my hands down her arms and thread my fingers with hers, flattening my front to her back. When I fold our combined arms across her chest, she leans into me. “I know you are, Little one. Try to relax. I won’t rush you.”

“How…?” She swallows hard. “How do you know. Why…?”

“We’re fated, Little one. That’s how it works. It’s powerful. You know you’re mine without looking at me.”

She nods.

I can feel her pulse. It’s aligning with mine. “Breathe with me, Baby girl.”

She squeezes my fingers. Her hands are so tiny compared to mine. I knew it would be shocking, and she would be very small because all human females are small compared to my people, but it’s still startling now that I’m holding her. Her fingers, her arms, her bare legs. She seems fragile.

I lean down and bury my nose in her hair because I need to inhale her. Once again, I can’t wait to wash her clean of the artificial human scents. I want to smell her damp hair after I’ve bathed her in the water we bring from our planet, using the gentle organic, natural soap we use.

I will wash her clean of her prior life at some point tonight, but I remind myself to bide my time. Instead of rushing her off the dance floor and over to the elevators that will take us up to my floor, I sway with her to the beat of the music. We’re sort of dancing. It’s pleasant.

Now that I’m holding her, she’s calming slightly in my arms.

“Your friend is talking to Mia,” she whispers.

“Yes. He will take her upstairs soon.” I unravel our fingers because I fear I’m hurting her. My fingers are so large they’re spreading hers too wide. Instead, I wrap her hands in mine and hold them against her chest, stroking her knuckles. “So…your friend’s name is Mia. What’s your name, Little one?”

“Ava,” she murmurs.

“Ava…” I try it out. “I love that name. My name is Ganrax.”

“Ganrax,” she repeats. “I…”

“You didn’t expect this to happen.”

“No.”

We’re surrounded by females. They’re watching us. Some are crowding too close, trying to listen to us as if we’re celebrities. I’m trying to shut them out and ignore them while I woo my girl, but then I realize females are snapping pictures.

For some reason, I don’t like that. It feels like an invasion of my Little girl’s privacy. They’re going to splash those photos all over social media, and in a few minutes, the entire globe is likely to know this female has been claimed. How long will it take for them to know who she is?