His Mate Across The Stars by Nina Soelian
His Mate Across The Stars
Description
Abby Gardner gave up sleep, sex, and her marriage to save humanity. Her husband thanked her by cheating on her. Now Earth is dying, Abby's career is over, and the only way forward is a one-way trip to an alien planet with a man who thinks he owns her. She went there to be useful. She definitely wasn't supposed to fall for seven feet of alien warrior who calls her his mate. His species is going extinct. And her body might be the cure.
Chapter 1
Aug 21, 2026
Abby's POV
If Professor Singleton finds out I forgot the research data at home again, she will sure as hell fire me this time.
My palms are sweating on the steering wheel.
I've been awake for thirty-one hours, so of course I forgot the entire Nyra folder on my bedroom desk.
Nyra is the planet my best friend Nick has been flying to for the past two years with his NASA team. That folder has everything we know about the species living there.
My research might keep humanity alive, which is why I've been sleeping four hours a night for six months straight.
Professor Singleton has already caught me mixing up two sample classifications before lunch. She looked at me and said, "Abigail, perhaps you should take a breath."
I took my car keys instead and headed home to get the folder. I hope to get back before she notices my absence.
Martin's car isn't in the driveway. His side of the bed was cold again this morning. He's been picking up extra shifts at the firm.
I haven't had a real conversation with him in weeks. I'm never home long enough to listen. But I do miss us.
Some nights I lie there in the dark and try to remember the last time we had dinner together at an actual table instead of me eating cold leftovers over the sink at midnight.
When this research phase wraps up, I'll book us a whole month of vacation.
Once in the house, I kick off my shoes and run upstairs.
The bedroom desk is bare. I check the chair, the floor around it, the stack of journals on the nightstand. Nothing. No folder.
I drop to my knees and shove my arm under the bed. My fingers brush dust, a hair tie, and one of Martin's socks.
This house is so messy because I'm never in it.
I sit back on my heels and press my hands against my thighs.
The folder has to be here somewhere. I had it last night. I remember flipping through the atmospheric readings before I passed out on top of the covers.
Then I hear the front door open downstairs.
Footsteps move through the hallway. Two sets of them, one heavier than the other, and a woman's laugh that I know better than my own.
Sophie?
My hand freezes on the edge of the bed frame.
Why is my sister here with someone? And why does the other pair of footsteps sound exactly like Martin's oxfords on the hardwood?
The brown leather oxfords I bought him for New Year's because he kept saying his old ones were out of fashion.
I don't move. Neither do I breathe.
There HAS to be an explanation!
Maybe he came home to grab something and ran into Sophie outside.
Maybe she stopped by to drop off the sandals she borrowed last week because she had a date and said hers gave her blisters.
I can hear them on the stairs now. Her voice is light and easy. She always sounds like this when she's comfortable.
The bedroom door swings open.
Martin's hand is on Sophie's waist.
She's pressed against his side, chin tilted up.
"Finally we have the whole afternoon to ourselves," she says. "Abby's stuck at the lab until at least seven. We don't even have to set an alarm this time."
"Remember when we had to book that shitty hotel?" Martin's thumb draws circles on her hip. "God, that was miserable."
My stomach drops so hard I can feel it in my knees.
I've been killing myself for six months to save a species that includes my husband and my sister. And this whole time he's been fucking her.
Six months of no sex and I thought he was just tired. Six months of falling asleep alone and blaming myself for not being a better wife.
God, Abby. You're such an idiot.
Two most important people in your life are laughing about how easy it is to fool you.
Did they do it in our bed? Of course they did. That's why the sheets smelled different last Tuesday. You thought you grabbed the wrong detergent. You absolute moron.
I stand up and my knees crack. They still don't see me. Martin is pulling Sophie closer, his mouth near her ear. She's tugging at his belt loop with two fingers.
That's my little sister. The one I raised after Mom and Dad died.
Once she called me crying at 2 a.m. because her boyfriend dumped her. I drove forty minutes in the rain to bring her ice cream and sit on her floor until she fell asleep.
And now she's standing in my bedroom, in my sandals, unbuckling my husband's belt.
"If that hand goes any further," I say, "I'm fucking gonna break it."
Martin's head snaps toward me. Sophie stumbles backward and her shoulder hits the doorframe.
For two seconds, the bedroom is dead quiet.
Then Martin straightens up and pulls his hand back slowly. "Abby? Why are you home at this hour?"
You're cheating on me in my own house and your first thought is to ask why I'm here?
I open my mouth to say something sharp, but he's already talking over me.
"Of course." He holds up a palm. "Your alien monsters. What else could it possibly be?"
He walks past Sophie to the nightstand, yanks open the drawer, and pulls out my folder. He shoved my entire Nyra analysis in with phone chargers and loose change.
"Looking for this?" He throws the folder at my chest.
Pages scatter across the hardwood. Readings, charts, glossy photographs of the Vaar, the species that lives on Nyra, sliding across the floor around my bare feet.
Is this actually happening? Is this really my husband?
"You are so obsessed with those hideous beasts that you forgot you're my wife."
Martin crosses his arms and leans back against the dresser. He cocks his head to one side. There's no guilt on his face. No shame.
His shirt is half untucked and there's a smudge of Sophie's lipstick on his collar. He's looking at me like I'm the one who owes him an apology.
"You're supposed to be here. You're supposed to make me happy. You stopped doing that a long time ago, so yeah, Abby. I found someone who actually gives a damn."
Make HIM happy…
I'm so sick and tired that I can't even look at them anymore.
My eyes drop to the photographs on the floor. One is face-up near my left knee. It shows a face that isn't human.
And somehow it's still less ugly than the one standing right in front of me.
"Abby." Sophie steps forward. "A man like Martin needs to be loved and taken care of. I've been doing that for him. And honestly? I've been doing it really well."
How did we get here, Soph?
You're my baby sister. I loved you more than I loved anyone in this world.
And you're standing in my bedroom telling me you're a better woman for my husband than I am?!
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Professor Singleton: Don't bother coming back.
Wow, what a day… My husband fucks my sister, and I just got fired from the one job where I was actually useful.
My hands shake. Thin silver-white lines under the skin of my wrists and shoulders itch.
I'm not sure I know how I got them but they always itch at the worst possible moments.
"Abby, listen to me." Martin takes a step closer, chin down, palms open. "You chose those aliens over your own family. You have no one to blame but…"
"Say that again." I dig my nails into the folder so hard the pages dent. "Tell me one more time that this is my fault."
Martin tilts his head. "You were never really here, Abby. Maybe if you spent less time researching and more time being a wife…"
Being a wife. My jaw locks shut so hard my teeth ache.
"You know what, Martin?"
I bend down and grab the folder off the floor.
"You're right. I wasn't here." Because while you two were fucking in my bed, I was making sure you'd have a world to wake up in. "And I probably shouldn't be here now."
"Abby, listen…"
"No. I'm done." I'm shouting now, and Sophie flinches. "I want a divorce, and I never want to see either of you again!"
I shove past them both and take the stairs fast, the folder crushed against my chest. The silver lines itch all the way down.
By the time I reach my car, my hands are still shaking. I throw the folder onto the passenger seat and sit there with the engine off.
I'm not going back inside. Even if it means sleeping in this car tonight.
There's only one person left in the world I can call.
I pull the phone out and dial.
Pick up, Nick. Please pick up.
His Mate Across The Stars
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