Free Chosen by the Alien Above Part 3: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Serial by Nora Lane

Excerpt

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    There were two major obstacles to any imagined love I might harbor.
    One, I was here to interview him, as a professional. I wasn't here to sign up to be his personal concubine.
    I could almost see the uncapped pen in my hand, shaking to scrawl my signature.
    And two, even if that obstacle could somehow be overcome, even if that stormy sea could somehow be safely navigated, it didn't matter.
    I had less than thirty days to live. That was the concrete consensus of my team of doctors back home. Despite their hopeful babbling.
    The lightness in my being that buoyed me up on the wings of a bubble burst in mid air. The tension on the surface tore apart.  
    I crumpled in my chair, despite its best efforts at perfecting my posture. This pushy gel stuff was getting irritating.
    Tears burst from the limitless reservoir behind my damned eyes. I wished I could see another truth, another way. Another future. The most dangerous time to embrace hope was when everything inside you knew it was pointless.
    Small streams guttered down my cheeks. I snorted as an especially wrenching bubble burst in my throat.
    Noah was at my side in an instant. He knelt on the floor, his head not much lower than mine. He was crazy big.
    "What hurts you, Cora?"
    Every fiber in my being wanted to spill the beans. Wanted to pour my tragedy into his large hands. I didn't harbor any false hopes that he could change it. But getting it out would've been enough. Just sharing it would've been a comfort.
    The words choked in my throat. This wasn't why I was here. I wasn't three hundred miles above the surface to dump my troubles on the richest, sexiest recluse to ever float above the face of the earth. And I didn't want to give him leverage. Something he might find useful in manipulating his questioning.
    "It's nothing," I said.
    He took my trembling hands in his rock-steady ones. His skin was soft despite the obvious strength lurking underneath. He looked up into my eyes. The room faded around us.
    "That's not true, Cora. I know it's not because I've been in your shoes. I know what it means to carry the burden of a death sentence."
    He placed both my hands in one of his and cupped my cheek. I'd never been treated so tenderly. Certainly not by the doctors when I got the news.
    "You're destined to die, Cora. Not in some far off, ambiguous way. Death stalks near and your body grows weary of the chase."
    He wiped a tear from my cheek.
    "You're going to die soon and not a single soul on earth can do anything about it."
    I was truly a mess now. Rivers of tears and snot drew deltas on my chin and flooded the plains of my chest. Wet drops tinted the suit a slightly darker purple. My breath came in painful, racking sobs.
    "Why are you telling me this?"
    He lifted my chin and touched my lips.
    "I'm telling you because I think I can save you."

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CHAPTER ONE

    After what was entirely too long surviving in a nightmare, I awoke. A mechanical monster in my dream shook me. No, shaking was too strong a word. It rattled me, vibrated me. Which seemed a weird thing because I was no longer dreaming. That, and it was pleasant. You don't expect the horrible things chasing you in dreams to bring comfort.
    Wait.
    No.
    It wasn't the thing in my dream moving me. I cracked my eyes open and looked at the ceiling.
    Where the fuck was I?
    I mentally washed my mouth out and studied the unfamiliar surroundings.
    Slate gray metal panels stretched across the ceiling. I didn't know if they were actually stretching, but their smoothness made it likely. Black veins traced through in meandering streams that broke apart here and rejoined there. Like a circuit board, only organic. Like the natural branching of blood vessels.
    Orbital One.
    That's where I was. The events of the last week spread over me. No not last week. Less than a day. It felt like much longer. I’d been scared enough, sick enough, and lusty enough in less than a day to cover a year’s worth of emotional