Knight of a Trillion Stars (3 page)

With a grace and speed she wouldn’t have thought possible in a man his size, he bounded off the couch, leapt over the coffee table, cape flying, and ran into the kitchen. In an instant he spotted the source of the popping and whipped out a rodlike object from his waistband, flipping it over agilely in his hand and causing a four-foot beam of blue light to appear.

As she watched gape-mouthed, he swung the light saber in an arc over his head, then through the microwave, which seemed to hiccup once, let out a belch of black smoke, and die. It was cleanly sliced in two.

Of course, the Berserker was smiling as if he had just
slain Loki himself. He retracted the light blade and returned it to his waistbelt.

Her microwave! Her sweet inoffensive microwave!

Which she hadn’t finished making the payments on yet.

Shock was rapidly being replaced with anger. It was the last straw! No one should have a day like this. No one! She had reached her limit.

“That’s it! You are out of here, pal!” She stormed over to the kitchen door, flung it open, and pointed in the general direction of the backyard. “Out!”

He stood silently leaning against her refrigerator, arms crossed over his chest, staring at her. A gust of wind blew up and slammed the door shut.

Damn it, nothing was going right today. Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! She swung the door open again.

“I said out!”

Another gust of wind blew up and slammed the door closed. Only this time she realized that the wind had come from
inside
the kitchen.

“I think not,” he stated firmly.

“You—did you do that?” He quirked his eyebrow. She sat down on the kitchen floor. “Oh, my.”

He came down on one knee beside her, his cape floating around him. “Something has upset you, Adeeann?”

Her gray eyes were huge as they focused on him. “Lorgin, you have supernatural…
powers?
” she squeaked.

He put his warm hand on her shoulder. “Powers of the Four, yes. Do not concern yourself with this, Adeeann. I am beginning to accept that this is an unenlightened world and as such—”

“What do you mean, ‘powers of the four’? Like, can you read my mind?” Her expression turned horrified at the thought. Especially concerning her earlier thoughts of him.

He laughed outright at the expression on her face. “No, Little Fire, I cannot.”

Little Fire? Her hand went unconsciously to her red hair. He noticed her action and seemed amused by it. She supposed that at five foot five, she appeared to him as nothing more than that gnat she had compared herself to earlier.
Little Fire, indeed!

“Powers of the Four,” he broke into her thoughts, “over earth, wind, water, and”—he looked at her hair pointedly and grinned—“
fire.
”

Don’t count on it, buddy, she mused. It seemed as though her alien had a streak of arrogance in him about as wide as the San Diego Freeway. “Are you saying you have pyschokinetic ability over the elements?”

“I believe that is how you would phrase it.” He looked at her and his pastel eyes twinkled. “Only a seventh-level mystic could read your mind, Adeeann. I have several incarnations to go before I achieve this state. Besides, this state can only be acquired after the harmonic—”

“Please, you’re giving me a headache. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She put a hand to her forehead.

He stood, offering her a hand up. “Perhaps it is this hunger you mentioned earlier.” She placed her small hand in his large one, choosing to ignore the strange frisson that traveled up her arm at his touch.

“Yes,” she replied, standing. “We might as well pick up a hamburger on the way to the mall.”

It had begun as soon as they had left her house.

Lorgin seemed very uncomfortable in her car, almost turning green when she got onto the highway. This from a man who traveled space, time, and dimensions. Of course, Boston drivers could make anybody sick, she supposed, reluctantly giving him his due.

As soon as she spotted the yellow arches, Deana swung
the car in, drove through the drive-thru, and ordered them some burgers and fries. He was suitably impressed with the speed with which the food was delivered to them.

Swinging into a parking space, she handed him a bag of food, saying, “Wait until you taste this! I bet they don’t have good greaseburgers where you’re from.”

With this endorsement, Lorgin eagerly took the bag and dug in. The horrified expression on his face said it all. Forcing himself to swallow, he looked at her aghast. His voice bellowed in the confines of the closed automobile.

“Are you trying to poison me, woman!”

Deana winced, supposing that with an undiscriminating palate, anything was possible. “Would you like me to get you something else? How about a frozen yogurt?” she offered placatingly.

He looked wary. “What is that?”

“Soured milk from an animal, chilled—” She stopped when he visibly shuddered.

“Never mind. I am not hungry. Your driving has taken care of it.”

Cross the universe and men were all the same! Blaming all of life’s misfortunes on women. “Okay. Have it your way.” She chuckled at her pun to which he was totally oblivious.

Of course, she finished her meal, being careful to exclaim over the delights and nuances of the combined flavors to him. Lorgin did not seem to appreciate the critique.

The mall was another story. Here, he was entranced, turning in a 360-degree circle, enraptured by the three tiers of consumer paradise.

“Surely, it is like a city!” He marveled, gawking. By no coincidence, people were gawking at him. Taking him by the cape, she led him to the nearest department store.

Lorgin, stopping at almost every counter, was amazed at the sheer number of choices of apparel, the materials and
color combinations. Perhaps they’d be out of here by midnight, she silently fumed. Thankfully, the men’s department was fairly close to the door.

After a long and tortuous argument, Deana managed to get him into a pair of Levi’s 501’s, button fly. Button fly, because the man turned that same shade of green he had in the car when she demonstrated zipper action to him.

There was a sticky moment or two when he walked out of the dressing room with a jeweled dagger stuck in the waistband of the jeans. Deana thought the salesclerk was going to faint. She rushed over to Lorgin.

“Where did you get that dagger?” she hissed.

“It has been in my family for sixteen generations.” As if that answered her question!

“Why didn’t you leave it in the dressing room?” He looked at her as if she had a gear loose. She gave up and walked away, praying the salesman wouldn’t call security.

They ended up with three pairs of assorted jeans, three long-sleeved shirts, and various sundries. Her credit card was not happy. He looked over her shoulder while she was paying the bill.

“What is your token of exchange?” he curiously asked.

“Hmm? Oh…plastic,” she answered distractedly while signing the receipt. She happened to look down at his feet and, noticing his piratical boots, felt another expense coming on. Deana sighed resignedly, knowing she was going to have to spring for some shoes as well.

She brought him to the shoe department, intent on getting him a pair of Nikes. He had other ideas. He headed straight to the boots, picking up an expensive pair of brown Tony Lamas.

“I will have these.”

“No, you won’t either,” she firmly responded.

“Do you not think these go well with these Leave-eyes I am wearing?”

“Yes, they’re dynamite, but—”

The salesgirl walked over, interrupting her. “Can I help you?”

Lorgin turned to her. “We will take these. She has plastic.” The salesgirl looked at her.

“Wrap ’em,” she mumbled, feeling like a gigolo’s favorite patroness.

When they finally got back home, Deana flopped down on the sofa, exhausted beyond words. She was beat. Really beat. What a day! She had gotten fired, sat in God-knows-what, got rained on, got caught in a traffic jam, been rejected
three
times, and, as if that weren’t enough, sponged on by a mooch of an alien knight who claimed he was protecting her from household appliances. She’d laugh if she wasn’t afraid she’d burst into tears.

She supposed she had to drag herself off the couch to get him some bedding. It was an effort to go to the linen closet and get blankets and a pillow. Half asleep, she made up a bed for him on the couch. Saying good night, she marched straightaway to her bedroom.

Deana didn’t realize he was following her until she entered her room. She would have to remember that about him: despite his size, he was an amazingly quiet stalker. She turned abruptly, and Lorgin almost walked into her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she challenged him.

“I will sleep where you sleep.”

She snorted. “You will not.”

“I have a sacred—”

She pointed in the general vicinity of the couch. “Go!”

He studied her a moment, noting her sincerity. His right arm crossed his chest, placing his hand on his heart. “
By your desire.
” He turned and proudly strutted out of the room.

She firmly closed the bedroom door.

The alarm went off at six a.m.

It was still raining; the air felt raw and chill. Deana groaned, shut the alarm off, and rolled over in bed.

When next she opened her eyes, the clock read half past six. She peered at the traitorous clock in disbelief. 6:30!

She bounded out of bed almost tripping over her long flannel nightgown. The plane left at nine! Knowing the vagaries of Boston traffic to Logan Airport, she prayed she would make it in time.

Running to the bedroom door, she hurled it open, and immediately tripped over a large body curled up on her door frame. The alien!

Two strong arms shot out and grabbed her before she could hit the floor. She fell back onto Lorgin’s lap, her hair flying around her in disarray.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, Little Fire?” he murmured sleepily. His eyes, a strange light in them, gazed on her loose hair. His hand slowly reached out to casually finger one long corkscrew-shaped lock.

Deana had always hated her hair.

It hung down her back in long spirals to her waist. The fact that many women purposely permed their hair in an effort to get it to look the way hers did naturally, boggled her mind. The only reason she didn’t cut it short was the fear of looking like Little Orphan Annie.

Lorgin did not seem put off by her hair. On the contrary, he seemed entranced by it.

He brought a lock of it to his face and deeply inhaled. “You smell like the
tasmin
flower, Little Fire.” Those strange pink sparks started up in his eyes again.

What was this all about? And what the hell was a
taz-meen
flower? She felt like a complete fool, sitting here in her bedroom doorway, on the lap of a man who was smelling her hair. She grabbed the lock of hair away from him.

“Never mind that! What are you doing in the doorway?”

Lorgin smiled to himself. She smelled like the
tasmin
flower, but was as prickly as the
gharta.
He rather liked the combination, and idly wondered if she’d be as soft and sweet as the
gharta
was once you got beneath the spines to the fruit inside. His powerful hands settled warmly on her hips.

“I am guarding you.” His voice was low and sultry.

“From what, the evil dead microwave?” He had the good grace to look sheepish over that. She started to rise, and he reluctantly let her go.

“Come on. We have a plane to catch. Let me find something to hold your stuff.”

She located a duffel bag and helped him pack his new wardrobe. He insisted on taking his own clothes as well. She couldn’t blame him for wanting his own belongings with him. She supposed she’d feel the same way in an alien place.

Deana got dressed while Lorgin used the bathroom, hoping the man remembered the demonstration she had given him last night on the plumbing. When he came out, he was dressed in faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt.

Mercy.

The jeans hugged his thighs, indecently showcasing his muscular legs. Never had a T-shirt looked so
regal.
She observed the brown boots on his feet, almost admitting that the pleasure of looking at him was worth the beating to her credit line.

Subtle as Deana thought she was being, Lorgin was not unaware of her pleasure of him. The woman was not skilled at hiding her feelings. This pleased him on numerous levels. The guileless trait, however, would make her very vulnerable to the unscrupulous. Despite her protestations to the contrary, such a woman definitely needed a Chi’in t’se Leau. Even so, he did not think this was the sole reason he had been brought to her.

When she dragged her ten-ton suitcase out of the bedroom, Lorgin was waiting for her patiently next to his duffel bag, his cape draped over his arm. Seeing her difficulty with the cumbersome luggage, he took her suitcase, tossing it under his arm as if it were nothing more than a mere annoyance. Deana was not going to argue; the stupid bag had wheels, but they all went in different directions.

They quickly left for the airport.

Everything at the airport terminal went smoothly until she recommended that he pack his cape in his bag. He did this readily enough, but that was when Deana noticed that damn dagger stuck in the waistband of his jeans. Her face blanched as she attempted to block him from security’s line of sight.

“Are you mad? Put that thing in the suitcase.”

“I will not. The Cearix stays by my side always.”

“Look, now is not the time to be intransigent. They won’t let us on the plane with that thing.” Instead of taking her words in the serious vein they were intended, he seemed greatly amused. He smiled arrogantly.

“How would they stop me?” He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “You worry for nothing, Adeeann.”

She pushed his stroking hand away. “Do you see that security point over there? We have to walk through it. When it detects that weapon of yours, all hell is going to break lose. You have to trust me on this, Lorgin.”

Lorgin ignored her brush-off, returning his hand to her
face to lift her chin with a single bent forefinger. Did she really think they could stop a Knight of the Charl? He examined her face carefully, noting her belief in her words. It was not his desire to distress her. Sighing, he relented. “Very well. But I will retain my light saber.” She started to object, but he was firm. “This I will
not
relinquish.”

She gazed at the small black box. They’ll never figure out what it is, she reasoned. “Okay, but if they ask you what it is, tell them…tell them it’s a beeper.”

He looked perplexed. “A
beeper
?”

“Just do it.”

Pushing Lorgin in front of her, she held her breath as he went through the arch without a hitch. Then it was her turn. As she went through, she looked up at the monitor, noting the gate number of their flight with disgust.

“I wonder why my gate is always the last one in the terminal,” she mumbled as she joined Lorgin, and they made their way through the crowded building.

Deana located their waiting lounge, gratefully sinking into a chair. Lorgin sat right beside her, his translucent eyes scanning the area, presumably looking for hidden attackers. He was guarding her like a junk-yard dog and it was starting to get on her nerves. He seemed to be quickly satisfied, though, that everything was in order, settling into his chair.

After several minutes, she noticed that he started looking slightly uncomfortable. “What’s the matter?”

He looked down at his boots. “I…I have to relieve…use your bathroom.”

She smiled. “Well, we’re a little far away from it right now. Come on, I’ll show you where the rest rooms are.” He gratefully followed her.

She stopped in front of the door. “Public rest rooms are gender separated, Lorgin.”

This puzzled him. “You use separate facilities in public but not in private?”

“Yes. See this little figure? The one with the little man on the door is the one you go into.”

Lorgin peered at the stick figure. “How can you tell he is a man?”

“Because he’s wearing pants.”

He snorted. “You are wearing pants and
you
certainly are not a man.”

He could be exasperating without even trying. “Okay. Think of it this way: don’t go into the one that has the figure in a little skirt.”

He shook his head in confusion. “This Disney is a most strange world.”

“Ahem…” She cleared her throat, quickly changing the topic. “The plumbing is a little different than in a private bathroom, do you want me to explain—”

He raised a lordly eyebrow. “I believe I can figure it out.”

“Fine. I’ll wait for you here.”

The next few minutes seemed interminable. Finally he emerged from the bathroom. A second later a little boy in a striped shirt ran out of the bathroom, calling at the top of his lungs, “Mommy, Mommy, that man just peed in the sink!” The mother grabbed her child and quickly disappeared in the terminal.

“You said you could figure it out!” Deana hissed under her breath.

He winced. “They all look like sinks to me.”

She nabbed him by the shirt and yanked him away. “Pay attention. One is called a urinal, that is what you have to use. Got it?” she gritted out.

He looked sheepish. “I believe so.”

“Come on, they’re starting to board.”

It was very crowded. Deana wouldn’t be surprised to hear that they had overbooked the flight. She was very glad they had checked in as soon as they reached the airport; the last thing she wanted was to get bumped from the flight.

They boarded the plane, sitting in the first two seats behind first class. Lorgin squeezed his six-foot-four frame into the no-leg-room seat. He did not seem happy, but did not complain either.

As the plane started filling up, Deana noticed the flight attendant looking around the cabin. Her eyes lit on Lorgin and remained there.

Any female who is breathing,
Deana sighed resignedly, watching the woman walk toward them. The stewardess purposefully approached Lorgin, bending over to talk to him as if she were about to impart the secrets of state.

“Good morning,” she said in a breathy voice. “We overbooked the plane, and since you don’t look terribly comfortable in that seat, would you like to come up front?”

Lorgin stared at her stonily, eyes slightly narrowed.

Deana giggled to herself. He probably thinks she’s coming on to him, inviting him to join her up front. What a riot!

Deana leaned forward smiling sweetly. “Do you have two seats?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two were together.”

I’ll bet you didn’t.

The attendant hesitated briefly before continuing. “As a matter of fact, we do have two seats open; come on.” The stewardess turned around and said to Lorgin, “I love your contacts—unusual color.”

Lorgin furrowed his brow, confused at the woman’s strange statement. He had not “contacted” her in any way. She had “contacted” him. He would have to ask Adeeann about men and women “contacts” on this planet. He had no desire to unintentionally invite advances. His interested gaze skimmed over the Little Fire next to him. With possibly one exception, he amended.

Deana didn’t waste any time following the flight attendant into first class. Naturally, where she went, Lorgin closely followed.

“Aren’t these seats much better, Lorgin? Here, you can sit by the window.”

Deana sat back in the sumptuous seat, enjoying the spaciousness. Maybe having an alien around had its advantages after all. If he could get her into first class for nothing, she might keep him around. She helped him with his seat belt as he stared out the window at the ground crew.

“Adeeann, this plane does not resemble your car.”

“Of course not.” She opened a magazine and flipped through it.

“It has extensions on its side.”

“You mean the wings?” She was studying a map of their air route, half listening to his remarks.

“Wings…like a”—he paused, waiting for the right word—“
bird.
” Light was beginning to dawn.

“Yes, how else would it fly?”

He immediately unbuckled his seat belt and made to rise.

Deana grabbed him by the waist band of his jeans and yanked him back into the seat. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

“You fly in a
machine
?” He seemed revolted at the prospect.

She looked at him askance. “I’m not going to ask you why flying in a machine is upsetting you, because I just know I am not going to like the answer.” She patted his knee. “You’ll be fine.”

He accepted what she had to say; whether he believed it was another matter.

The plane soon turned down the runway and took off. Lorgin clutched the arms of the chair tightly, but took it quite well, considering. Once they were in the air, he seemed to relax somewhat.

“The fight attendant will serve us breakfast soon. You
must be very hungry, you haven’t eaten since…You haven’t eaten.”

He agreed. “I am very hungry. Breakfast will not be…
greaseburgers,
will it?” That idea worried him.

A mischievous gleam sparkled in her eyes. “Not unless we’re lucky.” He shot her an I’m-not-amused look.

Breakfast turned out to be scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast, and orange juice. He ate everything, seeming only really excited about the orange juice. And coffee. The man loved coffee. He drank four cups before Deana warned him about the effects of caffeine.

“I would go easy on that stuff if I were you.”

“Why?”

“Coffee contains a stimulant called caffeine. If you drink any more, I’ll have to scrape you off the ceiling.”

“I vow I would brave the effects of this caffeine if I could have more of this wonderful elixir.”

Deana placed a hand on his arm, gently lowering the cup from his mouth. “Trust me.”

He complied immediately, his intelligent gaze intently capturing her own. “I would that you also trust
me
, Adeeann.”

Deana, flustered by his sudden intensity, returned to her tray of food.

After breakfast, they settled in for the long flight, Deana opening a paperback book, Lorgin leaning back in his seat, a look of stoic endurance on his face.

When Deana noted that Lorgin had been quiet for some time, she raised her head from her book, wondering if he had nodded off. Instead, she saw him staring intently out the window. He seemed fascinated by the wide blue yonder.

The plane bucked slightly in mild turbulence.

The captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker, requesting the passengers to fasten their seat belts due to unexpected clear air turbulence. Deana leaned back in the seat
and gazed out the window beyond Lorgin’s golden mane. Just before she closed her eyes to take a nap, she idly noticed puffs of clouds fluffing by the window. Those clouds are moving rather fast, she thought as she yawned.

Too fast!

Deana bolted up in her seat and stared out the window, noting clouds rapidly and unnaturally converging together. Even as she watched, a bolt of lightning arced from cloud to cloud.

The plane bucked again.

The low rumble of thunder vibrated through the plane. She turned her horror-stricken gaze to Lorgin.