Connor Smith works for Primrose, an organization tasked with monitoring and tracking aliens and alien technology. It's a job that doesn't know the meaning of "nine-to-five". It also doesn't leave much room for a social life, a complication that Connor hasn't minded, until now. At the prodding of his best friend, Connor reluctantly puts himself back in the dating pool, even though it means lying about his remarkable life.Elsewhere, Noah Jones has led a remarkable life of his own. Stranded on Earth in 1648, Noah was forced to transform himself permanently into human form to survive. He soon learned that in doing so, he'd become effectively immortal, aging only at a glacial pace. Alone, with no way to contact his people or return home, Noah becomes a silent observer of human civilization—always in the world, but never of the world. Then, hundreds of years later, he sees a face in a crowd and instantly feels a connection that he thought he'd never feel again. But he's too late: Connor's already taken.Destiny is not without a sense of humor, though, and the two men are pulled inexorably closer, snared by the same web of dangers and conspiracies. Worse, Primrose is now aware of Noah, and they aren't ones to leave an alien unrestrained. So while Connor struggles to understand the strange pull he feels toward Noah, forces without as well as within are working against them to keep them apart.
It was chilly on the platform as Connor waited for the train to Eastworth, despite the clear blue sky he could see through the arched glass and steel roof. He pushed off from the concrete pillar he'd been leaning against and walked across the drab grey tiles, closer to where the middle section of the train should be. Five more minutes, unless it was delayed... again. He shivered and looked up. A faint rainbow lingered in the air, miles across the city. He hoped it wouldn't rain; he hated arriving at work soggy.He was looking at his watch when a strange tingling at the base of his spine made him turn... and he was lost. He stood frozen, fists clenched, amongst the hustle and bustle on the platform, feeling people brush against him as they passed him by as if he didn't exist. He could hear them, but the sounds seemed to come from miles away. He couldn't see them. He saw nothing but grey all around him, the cloudy grey of stormy weather keeping him rooted to the spot, unable to move, scream, or even close his—for all intents and purposes—unseeing eyes.Maybe some creepy-crawly had stung or bitten him, and soon, someone would notice. No one did, though, and time passed excruciatingly slowly as Connor waited, caught in this stormy grey world while his legs turned to jelly. Something was draining him, draining his energy, making him feel light-headed and close to falling. Was he even standing? Or was he lying on the ground, unconscious? He couldn't tell.Something stung him, again and again, like tiny needles being jabbed into every nerve ending he possessed, faster and faster, until his body screamed and his stomach didn't know which way was up.The pain all but drowned out the sensations accompanying the pinpricks: elation, warmth, loneliness, longing, hunger, desperation, joy, cold. He couldn't handle it any longer. It was too much, too fast, too intense. He screamed—or tried to, at least. He couldn't hear himself. The flow of sensations slowed down, but it didn't stop.Connor wanted it to stop, wanted it all to stop, wanted control over his body back, wanted to see properly again. Sweat trickled down his face, and he thought he could taste blood. Maybe he'd hit his head at some point.A sudden movement, the blue and yellow blur of an arriving train, forced the grey out of his vision. He blinked his eyes and wobbled on his feet, surprised to find he was still standing. He would have gladly let himself slide to the ground if the people around him weren't crowding him toward the waiting train.With his blurry vision, Connor didn't care whether it was his train or not. He just let them herd him towards it, gladly accepting the strong hand at his elbow, which helped him inside.As soon as he found himself sitting down, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Sleep had never seemed this welcome before.Someone slapped his cheek. It stung, and Connor opened his eyes to find a blurry face watching him with a concerned expression."Are you all right?"Was he? Connor frowned. "Tired," he said, though he had no idea why. At least..."Here," the voice said, pushing something into his hand: a wad of tissues."Thanks, but...""You have a nosebleed."Did he? Connor pushed the tissues against his nose. They came away red, and he pressed them back again. "Oh.""I think your tie and shirt are ruined. Your suit jacket seems fine, but it's quite a dark colour, so the blood doesn't really show."Bugger! It was his favourite tie, too. With a sigh, he took his tie off and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He blinked to clear his vision, glad to finally be able to identify his aide as a woman."What happened to you?" she asked, holding a packet of tissues within reach.Her face was awfully close, he thought as he looked down to find one of her hands on his knee. "Sorry? What did you say?""What happened to you?"Connor frowned. "I'm not certain. I think something stung me. It's all a bit hazy.""Maybe you should go to the A&E, have someone check you out.""Yes, maybe I should. Thank you for your help."The woman blushed and smiled as she leaned back. "Oh, it's nothing."Connor smiled back and closed his eyes for a bit, still tired beyond belief.
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