Knight of a Trillion Stars (5 page)

He continued to regard her silently for several moments. Without warning, he abruptly released her, saying, “Go get dressed, Adeeann. I am of a mind for something to eat. Best for you if it is food.”

Deana did not stop to question her reprieve. She leaped out of the bed and ran into the bathroom.

Lorgin rolled over in the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Aiyah,
she was a woman who could surely test a Knight of the Charl. He sighed, knowing that if what he now suspected
was true, eventually he would have no choice but to overpower her fear of him…

When Deana came out of the bathroom, he was sitting in front of the television watching, of all things, the Three Stooges. His look was incredulous as Curly started spinning horizontally on the floor, clucking, “Wub, wub, wub!”

Lorgin’s head slanted to the side as he followed Curly’s movements. “Is this a civil punishment of some kind?”

Deana thought of his overbearing behavior in bed. “Yes. So you better be careful what you do.” She walked over to the television and turned the station. Bugs Bunny sashayed by in drag, batting his false eyelashes at Elmer Fudd.

Lorgin got up and stood in front of the set, clearly fascinated, his hand reaching out to the screen. “What is this? They appear alive, but are not. These are wondrous—”

“They’re called cartoons.” She felt she definitely owed him one, so added, “They live in a place called Toon Town.”

His head whipped to her. “They exist? How could…” He noted her huge grin, which she could no longer hide. He wagged his finger at her, smiling. “One day I will return this mischief to you, Adeeann.”

Of that, she had no doubt.

After breakfast, they walked to the convention center across the street. Deana purchased a membership for Lorgin, idly wondering if she could take all the money she had spent on him out in trade.

She looked over at him in his tight black jeans and cotton shirt. He had rolled back the sleeve cuffs exposing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. The crazy part of it was that she didn’t think he’d have any objection to such an arrangement. And why should he? He was on a shore leave of a kind, albeit a permanent one.

I have to stop thinking like this, she groaned. It wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all.

The guy behind the registration desk didn’t even blink when he asked Lorgin’s full name for his convention badge. After all, this
was
a science fiction convention. He grinned up at Lorgin. “Great name! Have fun!” He handed Lorgin his badge and program book, never realizing that here was the real McCoy.

While Deana registered, Lorgin looked around the room, his gaze falling on a man at the end of the line. His face broke into a huge grin.

“Ah, a Meephan!” he stated as he purposefully approached the man and began communicating with him in a series of clicks and whirs.

Deana strolled over while pinning her badge on. The confused man turned to her. “What is he doing?”

Deana took Lorgin’s badge from his hand and pinned it on his shirt. She smiled over at the poor fellow. Let me take a wild guess here, she mused. “Talking Meephan to you?”

The man looked totally puzzled. Deana tapped Lorgin on the shoulder. “Sorry, Lorgin; he’s Vulcan, not Meephan.” Lorgin looked completely bewildered.

The convention had only just begun.

Deana sat down in the main hall to look over her program book.

There was a lot to choose from—panel discussions, movies, workshops, costume displays, information tables on everything from NASA to special effects in cinema. They could visit the art show or the dealer’s room. She spotted a panel discussion on a topic which she thought would especially interest Lorgin.

“Look, Lorgin, you might be interested in this.” She pointed to her program book, then realized by his puzzled expression that he couldn’t read her language. Apparently, his translating device did not work on written text. “It’s called Magic: Myth and Meaning. Let’s check it out.”

She found the room on the second floor. It was already quite full, but she managed to locate two chairs for them on the end of an aisle. They took their seats as the moderator began with a lengthy introduction into the roots of magic in folklore.

After about ten minutes of self-indulgent palaver, Deana realized that the guy was in love with the sound of his own voice. She was going to ask Lorgin if he wanted to leave, but he seemed intent on the moderator’s words, so she sat back stifling a yawn.

Without warning, Lorgin stood up, saying in a loud voice, “You know not whence you speak, you pompous fool!” Deana sunk into her chair, trying to make herself invisible.

The moderator, flustered, responded, “I’m a professor of
mythology at Princeton. I think I have some authority to speak—”

“Bah! Can you cast runes? Do you read Signs of the Two even? What level of powers have you?” Deana decided then and there:
no more magic seminars for Lorgin.

The professor answered Lorgin smugly. “One does not have to slay a dragon to understand the underlying—”

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” The professor was getting exasperated.

“Slain this dragon you speak of?” Everyone laughed. It seemed that Deana was not the only one who had been getting a little bored at the sound of the professor’s voice.

“Not lately.” His irritating tone was condescending.

“Not ever, I will wager. My friend Yaniff could turn you into a slimy zorph with the flick of his hand, and you could do nothing. It is not seemly for you to speak on matters you have no firsthand knowledge of.”

That was it. Deana stood up. “We have to go.
Now.
” She took his arm, tugging him from his seat.

“I will find you later and finish with you,” Lorgin warned the poor guy, as she hauled him out of the room.

“I can hardly wait,” the professor sighed.

Once outside, Lorgin asked Deana why she wished to leave. “Because you were right, he was a pompous ass.”

She decided to go to the dealer’s room next to check out the merchandise before the heavy crowds got there and had first pick. Deana glanced wistfully down at Lorgin’s new boots. Not that she could afford to buy much now.

They stood in the doorway to the vast dealer’s den. About 500 hucksters had set up temporary shop in here, selling anything from art prints to collector’s editions of rare science fiction books, from collectible science fiction toys to videos, from tarot cards to sculpted wizards.

Lorgin surveyed the scene. “It is much like the sacri on
my planet.” He walked over to a table displaying crystals. “Very similar,” he murmured.

Deana didn’t have the heart to tell him this was not a typical marketplace on earth. Not by a long shot.

They enjoyed themselves going through the various wares for sale. Deana spent some time looking through posters of old movies. Lorgin seemed fascinated by a wooden sculpture of an Ewok village. They slowly made their way up the aisles.

Deana had already met several of her friends, and they had agreed to meet for dinner later. Her friend Kristen seemed very curious about Lorgin. Kristen had always been too smart for her own good, Deana thought with a grin. She recalled how Kristen had tried pumping her for information on Lorgin. She couldn’t blame her, seeing as she had never mentioned Lorgin to her friend in the past during their marathon phone calls. She would have to be very careful tonight at dinner.

Lorgin stopped at a table displaying unusual jewelry, admiring a French barrette with little white and pink porcelain-like flowers on it. He carefully fingered the tiny blooms.

“This is very beautiful.” He observed Deana’s reaction to it.

“It is pretty.”

“The workmanship is so detailed. It must be very costly.”

Deana swung her gaze to him, observing his interest in the barrette.
He doesn’t know it’s a cheap manufactured item.

“If I were home,” he continued, unaware of her scrutiny, “I would give this to you, Adeeann.” He gazed appealingly at her. “But I do not have plastic.”

Deana caved instantly under that sweet gaze. “I’ll lend you the money, but I expect you to pay it back.” She fished three dollars out of her pocket.

“No plastic?”

“Not for this.” She gave him the money.

He gave the dealer the money, then motioned for her to turn around, placing the barrette in her hair at the crown of her head. Deana suspected that he could live the rest of his life in kingly style on just one of the smaller stones in the hilt of the dagger he called the Cearix. She also suspected that he would part with his life before he allowed the knife to be desecrated in such a manner.

Lorgin surveyed his handiwork, pleased with the result.

“Thank you. It’s a beautiful gift, Lorgin. It was nice of you to think of me.”

His hand warmly cupped her face. “I would give you more, Adeeann, much more.”

Deana gazed into his beautiful eyes, feeling slightly disoriented.
Yes, more
…She blinked away her confusion.
By God, he’s wearing me down! I can’t let this happen. No way can I let this happen.
“L-let’s check out the art show.”

He smiled knowingly at her. “You lead; I will follow.” His arm swept in front of her. As she went ahead of him, he intoned in a voice too low for her to hear, “
For now.
”

The art show was wonderful. Lorgin really seemed to enjoy this portion of the convention. Several covers of popular books were showing, as well as additional original art work.

Lorgin stood before a particularly austere rendering of an alien landscape. The artist noticed his interest. “What do you think of it?” He asked Lorgin.

“It reminds me of Altarran Gaedre Two, in the Spheris sector. Have you been there?”

The artist grinned. “Occasionally.”

“A starkly beautiful place to view, but treacherous for the unaware.”

“Yes, I tried to capture that feeling on canvas.”

“You succeeded. Once, I was robbed of every
croness
I carried by a
chaktan
in the olde city.” Lorgin warmed
to the memory. “I had imbibed too much, and I was completely disrobed. She took me—” He abruptly stopped as he remembered Deana’s presence. She seemed avidly interested in the tale. Too interested. He decided it was best not to continue the story.

The artist chuckled. “You must be one hell of a writer. Hey, I’m tired of standing around here; why don’t you let me buy you a beer?”

Lorgin turned to the artist. “Thank you, but I would not know what to do with a bear.”

“A beer, Lorgin,” Deana explained. “English is his second language.” Or for all she knew, his thousandth language. “A beer is spirits, Lorgin. Fermented grain—”

“Ah—
keeran.
Yes!” He slapped the poor guy on the back, sending him five feet across the room. “Let us go, my friend.”

Deana, thinking she’d take the opportunity to slip away, maybe see the Regency Dance, made to move discreetly away. Before she got two feet, Lorgin grabbed her by her shirt collar. “You are going somewhere, Adeeann?”

“Apparently not.”

They had their drink, enjoying themselves with the artist, whose quick wit and ability to jump into what he assumed was role playing made the time a lot of fun. Of course, Lorgin had no idea he was participating in a game of sorts.

Since it was late afternoon, and she was tired from the night before, Deana told Lorgin she would like to rest before meeting the others for dinner. Noting the dark circles under her eyes, Lorgin readily agreed.

Once inside the hotel room, she could barely keep her eyes open blaming last night’s anxiety over sleeping with him, as well as jet lag for her overtired state.

She quickly changed into her nightgown and plopped into bed, telling Lorgin to have fun watching the cartoons.
Trying to decide how to instruct him on what time to wake her, she hit upon the perfect solution, informing him to wake her when the Flintstones came on. She was snoozing before her head hit the pillow.

Deana felt cold air hit her back and groaned a complaint into the pillow. As usual, her nightgown had hiked up, way above her waist, and if she wasn’t so sleepy, she’d yank it down. She thought she felt the tip of a finger lightly glide down the indentation of her back to the base of her spine.

Lorgin whispered in her ear. “Adeeann, it is time to wake up.” She brushed away his lips from her ear, mumbling something unintelligible.

He bent over her, his hair sweeping across her back. The tip of his tongue found the two little dimples at the base of her spine, above the band of her underwear. A small frisson lightly vibrated in its wake.

“Cut it out, Lorgin.”

His answer was to graze her buttock with his teeth.

That
got her up.

She rapidly flipped over, but he adroitly slid her under him, seeming amused at her expression of horror mixed with panic.

“Do you not like my wake up?” he asked, way too innocently, while running his open palm down the length of her hair.

Deana froze, not certain what to do.

Lorgin dropped onto his forearms, leaning fully against her, his jean-clad thighs pressing warmly against her bare ones. His fiery gaze locked on her soft, full mouth. Her tongue, in response to a nervous reaction, barely came out of her mouth to lick her suddenly dry bottom lip.

He raised his eyes to capture hers as he ran his finger over the spot she had just moistened, and brought it to his own lips, as if he were…
tasting her?
His eyes flamed anew,
and apparently he decided to come back for seconds, for he dipped his head intently toward her.

She silently shook her head no.

“I will have you, Little Fire,” he murmured huskily.

Her eyes opened wide at that remark. She placed her hands against his chest in an effort to hold him off. He simply returned his finger to her lower lip, opening her mouth for him.

Deana stared at him, mesmerized.
He had captured her.
Very sure. Very knowing. Very male. When he spoke, his tone was raw and implacable.

“Have no doubt.”

Deana wasn’t sure if she moaned or whimpered.

His sweet lips met hers in a brand of fire. Hot. Hard. Demanding. His mouth gave no quarter. She tried turning her head, but his hands locked her firmly in place. His tongue sought entrance to her mouth. She tried to tell him to stop, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he immediately took advantage by gaining entrance.

A bold warrior, he left no spot unconquered by the silky feel of him. His velvet lips and talented tongue expertly invaded her, taking her breath away, leaving strange tiny shivers of electric longing in their wake.

She was completely overwhelmed by him, as she had always feared she would be. Deana trembled helplessly under his commanding onslaught.

He broke off the kiss as abruptly as he had started, leaving her gasping for air. Explosively swinging off her, he leaped up and slammed the television off.

Lorgin was not unmoved by the exchange. His eyes burned like amethyst crystals, flashing and sparking pink with his heat. Her inexplicable fear insulted him. When he spoke, his cold, soft tone belied the fire in him. “I can make you have desire, Adeeann.” He whirled around, storming out onto the balcony to let the night breeze cool his ardor.

Make her have desire?

She was still lying in bed, shaken, her hand touching her throbbing lips. No one can kiss like that…
No one human.
Now she was more frightened of him than ever. And of herself. My God, if those electric-like currents were any indication…Good grief. It was…different.
Incredibly
erotic. And much worse than she had imagined.

Alien or no, he was too sexually sophisticated for her to cope with, way out of her league. Cripes, in her whole life, she’d only had one miserable experience. And it was miserable. She couldn’t tangle with Lorgin, she just
couldn’t.
There’d be no controlling him. She had just witnessed that. Besides he was arrogant beyond words. What would she do with a man like that?

What wouldn’t she do with a man like that?

No. Absolutely not.

Her rational side took over. If he thought she didn’t want him, that could only be to her benefit. Unless, a little voice inside said, he sees it as a challenge…a little nick to his male pride, perhaps? Ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he…

She was getting a headache—a condition that seemed to be occurring a lot around him. The best thing to do is to pretend it never happened, and make sure it doesn’t happen again. She would call housekeeping and tell them to bring up a cot for her.

Do I really think a
cot
is going to stop this warrior knight?

It had better, or they were going to have a parting of the ways. She got up and went into the bathroom to shower.

Later, while Lorgin was bathing, she picked out a caftan to wear to dinner. Since the sleeves were bell shaped, giving a medieval look, she decided to wear the torque. She fished it out of her bag and tried it on with the dress. Perfect.

Strange how she didn’t recall the stone being such a bright green…

She shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first strange thing that had been happening to her lately. Chilly, she donned a sweater jacket, zipping it up to her chin, and waited for Lorgin to finish getting dressed.

In the lobby of the hotel, Deana was delighted when she recognized an old friend of hers. “Jimmy!” she called to get his attention. When he spotted her, he bounded over as if he were her favorite pet.