Mated by Mandate – Chapter 4
Xan
The suite door hissed shut behind Xan, sealing him inside the temporary luxury Zephyria provided its traveling diplomats on Gamma-9. The silence was a stark contrast to the Celestial Lounge’s murmur and the lingering, faint scent of lavender smoke that seemed to cling to his tunic. He peeled off the garment, letting it fall onto a chaise lounge sculpted from something that looked suspiciously like petrified starlight.
He ran a hand over his face. Informative. That’s what he’d called the encounter. An understatement of galactic proportions. Dr. Zora was… abrasive. Unpolished. Utterly unimpressed by status or decorum. And yet, the memory of her startled, genuine laugh after the glimmer-berry incident kept replaying in his mind. It was a sound entirely at odds with her default setting of scientific skepticism.
A wet, slurping sound emanated from the ventilation shaft near the ceiling. Xan didn’t even flinch.
“Subtle as always, Blorp.”
The neon-green blob detached itself from the grate with a soft plop, oozing down the wall before reforming its seven-foot amorphous shape on the plush carpet. “Stealth is merely a state of… viscosity,” Blorp warbled. “Besides, I detected elevated synaptic friction patterns emanating from this location. Thought I’d offer my lubricating presence.”
“My synaptic patterns are perfectly frictionless, thank you.” Xan turned away, not wanting Blorp to see the tension in his face. Something about Zora had burrowed under his skin, past the diplomatic armor he’d spent decades perfecting. Her eyes—sharp, assessing, cutting through pretense like a laser through ice. The way she challenged him without hesitation. No one did that. Not to him. Not anymore. The sensation was… unsettling. Exhilarating. Like stepping onto an unknown planet without atmospheric readings. Dangerous. Intoxicating. A rush he hadn’t felt since his first diplomatic mission.
“Are they?” Blorp pulsed gently. “Because the station’s gossip network is buzzing louder than a hive of killer space-bees. Apparently, a certain Zephyrian Ambassador had a rather explosive encounter involving projectile fruit and a very flustered human scientist.”
Xan sighed, turning to face his colleague. “It was a minor chemical reaction involving an untested alien delicacy.”
“Mmm-hmm. And the way you two were sparring? Like matched grav-whips! All snap and spark. Had old Baron Von Hesslar spilling his nebula-nectar just watching you. Haven’t seen sparks like that since the Karill ambassador tried to mate with the sentient chandelier.”
Xan stopped himself from rolling his eyes. That sentient chandelier had the good grace to say no.
“We were fulfilling a mandate, Blorp. Nothing more. The algorithm is flawed.”
“Flawed? Or perhaps… insightful?” Blorp flowed closer, its surface shimmering. “She certainly got under your plating, didn’t she? That rigid posture, the way your ocular ridges tightened every time she landed a verbal jab? Fascinating micro-expressions for a diplomat renowned for his placidity.”
“She’s irritating,” Xan conceded, walking towards the suite’s comms console. “Obstinate. Entirely focused on her rocks.” He paused, his fingers hovering over the console. He remembered the brief moment when their hands touched, the heat from her skin, the directness in her gaze, devoid of the usual political maneuvering he navigated daily. “And completely unexpected.”
“Unexpectedly… captivating?” Blorp suggested, its voice dropping to a conspiratorial gurgle.
Xan shot Blorp a warning look. “Unexpectedly problematic. An unnecessary complication.”
Before Blorp could offer further analysis, the comms console chimed, displaying the stern holographic seals of the High Council. Xan straightened, smoothing down his undershirt. “On screen.”
The severe faces of Glabnar and Tralax materialized, their expressions conveying the usual blend of urgency and disapproval.
“Ambassador Xan,” Glabnar began without preamble. “The situation on Lomena escalates. Intelligence confirms multiple species are dispatching envoys. The rumors surrounding this seaweed… they’ve taken root.”
“The Astral Alliance is sending a full trade delegation,” Tralax added, her eyes sharp. “They smell opportunity. Zephyria cannot afford to be outmaneuvered. Your immediate presence is required for the preliminary summit.”
Xan kept his expression neutral, but inside, a familiar resentment kindled. Twenty years of flawless service. Fifteen treaties secured. Three interstellar wars prevented. And still they spoke to him like a fresh academy graduate. Do this, go there, secure our interests. Never a word of genuine appreciation. Never acknowledgment that his strategies had elevated Zephyria’s standing beyond what their military might could achieve. The High Council saw him as a tool—polished and effective, but ultimately just an instrument of their will. Meanwhile, he carried the weight of their expectations, their demands, their shortsightedness. He deserved better. He’d earned better. But duty was duty, and Zephyria was home, no matter how often they took him for granted.
“I understand, High Councilors. I am prepared to depart.”
“See that you are,” Glabnar said. “This Lomena discovery has the potential to reshape galactic population dynamics, resource treaties… everything. Zephyria’s interests must be secured.”
Tralax’s gaze sharpened further. “And Xan… we trust your focus will remain entirely on this critical mission. No distractions. The GDS situation was an amusing anomaly, nothing more. Forget it.”
The holograms vanished, leaving Xan bathed in the console’s cool light. He stared at the space they had occupied, the weight of Lomena pressing down. A critical mission. Secure Zephyria’s interests. Forget the distraction.
Forget Dr. Zora.
He pulled up the preliminary intel file on Lomena. Coastal topography maps. Analysis of indigenous life forms. Speculation on the bioluminescent seaweed’s properties – aphrodisiac qualities, potential fertility enhancements… It was indeed revolutionary, if true. Dangerous, too.
The implications stretched beyond simple aphrodisiac properties. The galaxy’s population crisis had reached critical levels in the last decade—birth rates plummeting across seventeen major species. The GDS wasn’t just a dating service; it was a desperate attempt to stabilize civilization itself. But this seaweed… early tests suggested something unprecedented: a biological bridge between species. Not just heightened attraction, but genetic compatibility where none existed before. Cross-species fertility rates could skyrocket. Population curves could reverse overnight. The entire galactic order—built on careful demographic balance and resource allocation—would shatter. Species that had maintained peace through controlled population growth would suddenly find themselves competing for resources again. Old rivalries would reignite. New alliances would form. And whoever controlled the seaweed would control the future of galactic civilization itself.
He thought of Zora, dedicating her life to the fundamental truths written in stone. What would she make of this? This plant that could rewrite the fundamentals of life itself?
Blorp oozed beside him, silent for once, seemingly sensing the shift in atmosphere.
“She’s a complication,” Xan repeated, more to himself this time. He activated the travel protocols, initiating his departure sequence for Lomena. Duty called. Diplomacy demanded his full attention.
He shut down the Lomena file. Yet, as the sequence confirmed, a different image flashed in his mind – Zora, face flushed, eyes bright with indignant fire after launching a glimmer-berry at him. A defiant spark against a backdrop of polished mediocrity.
He couldn’t deny it. A part of him, the part usually suppressed beneath layers of diplomatic protocol, looked forward to the collision course the galaxy seemed determined to set. Lomena. Politics. And the infuriating, captivating Dr. Zora.
This was going to be anything but frictionless.
You have been reading Mated by Mandate...
I thought the Galactic Dating Service’s threats were a joke.
Public meme campaigns? Social humiliation algorithms? Please. I’m Dr. Zora—I talk to rocks for a living.
But when their “99.9% Perfect Match” pairs me with Ambassador Xan, they’re not bluffing.
He’s everything I despise: politically connected, devastatingly charming, the kind of smooth operator who manipulates hearts like trade negotiations. Our first date ends with me coughing alien berries into his drink.
I should hate him.
Instead, when he laughs—really laughs—I glimpse someone real underneath. Someone who protects me from sleazy delegates. Someone who looks at me like I’m fascinating instead of socially defective.
Then I discover seaweed that could change everything—life-changing science that makes me a target for every government in the galaxy.
Including his.
I now face an impossible choice: trust the man who awakened something I’d buried, or protect my discovery alone.
The galaxy’s future depends on my decision. So does my heart.
Mated by Mandate is a slow burn steamy alien dating-service romance and the first novella in the Galactic Dating Service series. If you enjoy fated-mates chemistry, grumpy–sunshine banter, and a silver-tongued alien willing to bend interstellar rules for one brilliant human scientist, you’ll love Mated By Mandate.
