Samantha White And the Seven Dwarves

SAMANTHA WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARVES

…The console hissed and crackled, shooting sparks everywhere. “Ouch!” Sam leapt back as the glittering spray stung bare flesh. Too much bare flesh. Breasts, stomach, thighs… Gulp. She looked down at herself and blanched. It seemed that when the aliens had beamed her up, they’d neglected to beam her clothes along, too. “I’m naked!” she screeched. “Mmm, yes, I noticed.” The murmur came from behind her, a deep, husky purr of a voice that stroked over her like crushed velvet, making her skin flush. Choking on her own breath, she spun about to confront it— And nearly swallowed her tongue. What the… That couldn’t possibly be who it looked like. The voice came out of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Well, someone dressed like Hamlet, in an all-black medieval-style doublet, shirt and hose, and with sleek black hair capping his head. But he was built like a Greek god, tall, tan and muscular, handsome as the devil and looking infinitely more sinful. A man rippling with power, radiating raw sex. Sam’s mouth went dry. Switch the doublet to a dinner jacket and this guy might have stepped straight out of her

wildest fantasies—or her video collection, which amounted to the same thing. She adored old movies and the actors who’d starred in them, and here stood her all-time favorite. All he needed was a martini, a gun, and a mission to save the world. “Now I know I’m nuts,” she rasped out…

ALSO BY MIMI RISER Romeo’s Revenge

SAMANTHA WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARVES BY MIMI RISER

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

SAMANTHA WHITE AND T HE S EVEN DWARVES AN AMBER HEAT BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com http://www.amberheat.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2007 by Mimi Riser ISBN 978-1-60272-062-6 Cover Art © 2007 Trace Edward Zaber Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To my darling Rob, for being my ever lovin’ inspiration and support. And to everyone at Amber Quill, for the golden work they do and allowing me to share its glow. I hope you all know how much you mean to me. It’s a little unorthodox, but I also feel compelled here to acknowledge Jotto and his crew— the dwarves of this story, who were originally intended as minor players. I really didn’t expect to see them after page ten, but they refused to leave! Thanks for your tenacity, guys. Things would have been a good deal saner without you, but not nearly as much fun.

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SAMANTHA WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARVES

Boy, people were jerks, weren’t they? Whoever invented humanity had a lot to answer for. Thinking grim thoughts, Sam shot a bird at the driver who’d just cut in front of her. He was lucky she didn’t have a gun. She glared through her cracked windshield at the bumper-to-bumper traffic, knowing she was going to be late for work. Again. Knowing her wheezing auto was overheating. Again. What she didn’t know was where she’d find the money to 1

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get it fixed, not to mention pay her rent and utilities— especially if she got fired, as seemed likely since she was already on probation at the job for mouthing off to an asspinching sleazeball…who’d turned out, unfortunately, to be the firm’s newest, biggest client. Sheesh, you’d think she’d been the offender and not him. Could life get any worse? Funny she should ask that. Without warning, a blinding flash struck! A buzzy, fuzzy, tingling rush and—whiz—car, traffic, all her earthly worries were far away. Earth itself was far away. And she had a whole new set of worries. “Holy shit,” she muttered, hoping the sound of her own voice would add an element of sanity to the situation. It didn’t. She stood frozen, staring, her heart racing and eyes popping. She’d read about happenings like this in the tabloids while waiting in line at the supermarket—on those rare occasions when she could afford to buy groceries—but she’d never believed those absurd headlines. She wasn’t sure she believed them even now. What the hell was this? A spaceship? It looked like something straight out of Star Wars, like something Han Solo might fly—if he was really down on his luck—dusty, rusty, loose wires dangling everywhere, and it stank like… “Shit,” she repeated. “I’ve been abducted by aliens.” Smelly aliens. She counted seven before her on the bridge of the craft. Small, grotesquely humanoid figures in a motley assortment of 2

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tights, tunics, and curly-toed booties. The Ren-faire costuming struck an oddly jarring note against the sci-fi setting, making her head swim. The creatures had stocky little bodies, broad faces with big, bulbous eyes, and bright, bushy shocks of hair sticking straight up from their scalps. Hair that traveled the color-spectrum from screaming red through orange, yellow, green, turquoise and blue to pulsating purple, each alien with his own separate hue. They made her think of three-foot-high troll dolls, or almost. They also had wicked-looking yellowish points protruding over their lower lips. Terrific. Troll dolls with fangs. She locked her wobbly knees to stay upright. Good frigging grief, this was like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves on acid. Except her name was Samantha White, not Snow, and she wasn’t exactly the fairy-tale princess type. She was a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe—the bane of her existence. Men never took you seriously when you looked like a sex goddess. They just took you. Jerks. And too often she’d let them. Stupid her. Or lonely her. Lonely years in an orphanage, praying for a family to love her—and wondering if God were dead or just deaf when no family ever appeared. Lonely years since, searching other avenues, hoping sex would lead to love, that she could turn a frog into a prince with a kiss. Okay, a lot more than a kiss, but it all proved as effective as her prayers, so she’d scrapped that approach, too. Three months ago, in fact. Three long, itchy, bitchy, horridly hormonal months. Her 3

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libido was on its last frayed nerve, but she refused to be ruled by it. She had her priorities straight now—lift a guy’s hood and take a good look at his engine before jumping behind the wheel and grabbing his stick shift. How else would she ever find someone made for the long haul, a man who wanted a home and family as much as she did, and had the fortitude to commit to them? Surely there’s at least one prince among the frogs— Coarse cackles interrupted her brooding. “I think we’ve lost our new cargo, lads. Well, her attention anyway. She looks spacier than what I’m seein’ out me view screen.” “Twit. They all look like that at first.” “It’s the transport beam. It scrambles their circuits for a bit. She’ll snap to once her electrical charge levels out…maybe.” Sam snapped to instantly and glared daggers at the snickering dwarves. Good frigging… “Why am I worrying about frogs when I’m surrounded by aliens?” She slapped herself on the forehead to rattle her brains back in place. All it did was increase her headache and make the troll doll with the blaring blue hair turn around to blink at her. “Hey, ducky, watch who you’re callin’ an ‘alien.’ Everything’s relative, y’know. From where I’m sittin’, you’re the alien.” “Go to hell,” she shot back. She was damned if she’d argue semantics with a toothy troll in a Peter Pan suit and 4

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fluorescent fright wig. He’s only a hallucination. He had to be. No aliens and no space-ship. Just too many stresses in her life. She’d finally cracked under the strain and gone stark raving mad. Gee, why did she find no comfort in that thought? The troll-man smirked. Either that or he was having a sudden attack of gas. “Whatever you say, ducks. Happens we was headed there anyways.” He leaned back in his seat and laced stubby fingers over a midsection that made him look like he’d swallowed a cantaloupe whole. “Xotto! Set course for planet Helle. And make it snappy!” “Up yours,” Xotto of the glaring green hair grumbled. “Ain’t my turn. It’s Vrotto’s.” “Is not!” the turquoise topped troll—Vrotto, obviously— declared. “I was navigator last stinkin’ trip. It’s Totto’s bloody turn this time.” “Like crap it is! I’m on meteorite watch. How the fuck can I navigate and watch for meteorites at the same time? You stupid twit!” Red-haired and redder faced, Totto slammed down his chubby fist on the console he was hunched over. The console hissed and crackled, shooting sparks everywhere. “Ouch!” Sam leapt back as the glittering spray stung bare flesh. Too much bare flesh. Breasts, stomach, thighs… Gulp. She looked down at herself and blanched. It seemed that when the aliens had beamed her up, they’d neglected to beam her clothes along, too. “I’m naked!” she screeched. 5

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“Mmm, yes, I noticed.” The murmur came from behind her, a deep, husky purr of a voice that stroked over her like crushed velvet, making her skin flush. Choking on her own breath, she spun about to confront it— And nearly swallowed her tongue. What the… That couldn’t possibly be who it looked like. The voice came out of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Well, someone dressed like Hamlet, in an all-black medieval-style doublet, shirt and hose, and with sleek black hair capping his head. But he was built like a Greek god, tall, tan and muscular, handsome as the devil and looking infinitely more sinful. A man rippling with power, radiating raw sex. Sam’s mouth went dry. Switch the doublet to a dinner jacket and this guy might have stepped straight out of her wildest fantasies—or her video collection, which amounted to the same thing. She adored old movies and the actors who’d starred in them, and here stood her all-time favorite. All he needed was a martini, a gun, and a mission to save the world. “Now I know I’m nuts,” she rasped out. The man grinned, sending a hot shiver down her spine. “Oh, no, not nuts,” he corrected, and his gaze lowered to her nipples. “More like fruit, I’d say. Strawberries, in particular.” “Blimey, it’s a good thing Notto didn’t hear that,” one of the aliens muttered. Why? Who the hell knew? The man ignored the interruption, all his attention on 6

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Sam’s chest. “They’re such a deep, dusky pink when ripe— one of your planet’s great delicacies, I think. So firm yet juicy, strawberries. So tender and sweet.” He licked his lips. “One wants to savor them slowly, to roll them around on the tongue and suck and suck and—” “I get the message!” So did her strawberries, which were now tingling and puckered into hard peaks. “I doubt it. But you will.” He punctuated the promise with another grin, and Sam went damp between the legs. She knocked her knees together and clutched her arms over her breasts as his gaze raked down her body, then up to her face. “You’ve turned out quite nicely,” he told her, something in his tone making her back hairs prickle. “A near perfect duplicate. Isn’t that right, lads?” He glanced around at the dwarves. The blue one yawned. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, guv’na.” “Ain’t my type, but what the crap do I know? You’re the prince’s man. I’m just contract labor,” Xotto the green grumbled. Red Totto and turquoise Vrotto grunted noncommittally. The purple one scratched under his arm and the orange one let out a loud belch. The yellow one seemed to have fallen asleep. He was slouched over his console, snoring. The hunk in black shook his head and sighed. “Pay them no heed, love. Absolutely clueless, the lot of them—wouldn’t know a quality clone if it bit them in the ass.” 7

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Sam’s stomach knotted. Clone? She didn’t like the sound of that. “Trust me, with the proper schooling, you’ll do splendidly,” the man added. Schooling? She liked the sound of that even less. The knot in her stomach tightened, and she hugged herself harder. “What are you talking about? What’s going on here?” The demand came out in a dry croak, pathetic. She swallowed and tried again. “Who the hell are you?” That sounded like a mouse with a sore throat. Not much of an improvement, but the best she could manage. Dreamboy looked nothing but amused. “Ah, yes, how rude of me. My apologies. Allow me to introduce us…” With a fluid flourish, he swept out his arm, indicating the crew one by one. “These are the Harvesters: Jotto, Xotto, Vrotto, Totto, Flotto, Notto, and Bleggh.” “Bleggh?” Sam blinked at the orange-haired dwarf. He gave her a big, toothy smile and rumbled out another resonant belch. “Sorry,” the man said. “He does that a lot, I’m afraid.” “It’s all them Betelgeuse beans he eats,” green Xotto explained (as though anyone cared). “At least his burps is better’n his farts,” Flotto of the pulsating purple hair groused. “Phewy.” Jotto of the blinding blue held his nose. “You can say that again.” “At least his burps is—” Jotto slapped Flotto in the head. “I didn’t mean literally, 8

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you bleedin’ idiot.” Mystery man heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You see what I have to put up with?” he said to Sam. “But to finish the introductions…” He dipped a short bow from the waist. “I, my lovely one, am Deuce, your trainer.” “T-trainer?” She liked the sound of that the least of all. Panic prickled over her, icy chills mixed with escalating heat. Her thighs quivered with the effort to keep her legs under her. Her voice quivered more. “Trainer for wh-what?” “Sex,” he said. A sudden fire in his eyes almost melted her where she stood. Oh, God… She did have to ask, didn’t she? Her breath whooshed out in a ragged gasp and her knees buckled. “Careful.” Strong hands gripped her waist to hold her upright—hot hands, scorching her skin, while the gleam in his dark eyes sizzled straight into her core. “You’re not going to faint, are you?” Um…she was seriously considering it. “Would it help me any if I did?” “Probably not.” Deuce chuckled. “But I could have all kinds of fun reviving you.” Yeah, that’s what she’d figured. Help… His grip shifted and he swung her up in his arms, high against his chest. Dizziness swamped her with the motion. She grabbed his shoulders for support, hating herself that she couldn’t let go, that she was suddenly clinging to him like a lifeline. His hold on her tightened. “Relax, love. I won’t let you 9

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fall.” Hah. He had no idea she was teetering on the brink already, about to fall deep into lust, if not love. But for her, the first always led to the latter. She was dumb that way; never had been able to separate the physical reactions from the emotional. Men could, it seemed—at least the ones she’d known. Like bees, they flitted carelessly from flower to flower, gathering the nectar, then moving on to fresher fields. And she was the blossom left behind, drained dry, stung so many times she felt like a damned pincushion. She couldn’t stand another prick, and she meant the term as both a verb and a noun. A prick from a prick, and an alien prick at that. Talk about a culture gap. How could he even be the same species as her? She’d seen Starman, damn it. It never paid to love someone from another planet. Long distance relationships were doomed from the start. Grief on a stick, she was insane, wasn’t she, to be thinking things like that at a time like this, when she’d just been snatched off her world, for God’s sake, and had no idea why or what would happen now. Except for that mention about “schooling”…and “sex”… And who was her trainer? Him. Right. She was in deep shit. Being abducted was only part of the problem. This guy could too easily hijack her heart along with the rest of her. All he had to do was say “stirred, not shaken,” and she’d be both. 10

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Groaning, she lifted her head off his chest to study his face. He sure looked like a real man. All man. Tall, dark, and dangerous, just the type she always fell for, just the type who always left her feeling bruised and used and wanting to slit her wrists. His eyebrows quirked up at her scrutiny. “Something the matter?” “Besides the fact I’ve been kidnapped, you mean?” Acid dripped out with the words. He didn’t seem disturbed by it. Unfortunately. “You haven’t been kidnapped, love. You’ve been harvested. This is what you were created for. I’m taking you to your destiny.” “Fuck a duck, now he tells me!” A shower of sparks flew out as Totto cursed and punched his console. “I thought we was takin’ her to Helle. Destiny’s clear at the other end of the galaxy! I’ll have to re-set the bloomin’ coordinates. And I’m still on meteorite watch!” “Screw the meteorites,” Flotto muttered. “We’ll be makin’ the leap into hyperspace soon and won’t even be able to see ’em. What we can’t see, can’t hurt us.” “A dopey way of puttin’ it, but he’s right,” Jotto said, with a wink over his shoulder at Sam. “Once we pass light-speed, we’ll be travelin’ in another dimension, as it were.” He swiveled his chair about and boxed Totto’s ears. “And you leave the coordinates alone! Deuce was speakin’ figuratively when he said ‘destiny,’ you stupid twit.” “Bastard! I’ll shove some destiny up your arse—and I don’t mean figuratively!” With a roar, Totto lunged away 11

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from his controls and grabbed Jotto by the throat. Amidst a noisy flurry of flailing limbs, the two fell, huffing and grunting, to the deck. Consoles hissed and spat sparks over all. Vrotto and Xotto leapt up from their places to pull the fighters apart and got sucked into the squabble, all four dwarves thrashing around in a jumble, kicking and pummeling each other. Watching them, Flotto scratched himself and Bleggh belched. Notto roused up from his snoring with a start and stared about, blinking sleepy, bewildered eyes. “What’s up? Have we landed?” he asked. “Are we in Helle?” I am, Sam thought as Deuce gathered her closer and hustled her off the bridge. “Close,” he commanded, and the hatch they’d exited slid shut behind them, cutting off the racket of the dwarves, leaving her alone with him in a long, silent passageway steeped in shadows. The only illumination came from a glowing oval filling the far end. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel? She doubted it. “Don’t worry.” His husky voice echoed in the stillness, and his soft-soled boots made scarcely a sound as he strode toward the light with Sam in his arms. “We’ll reach our destination on schedule. You might not guess it to look at them, but the lads know what they’re doing. Really. They’re very good at their job.” He paused in front of the oval, which turned out to be an open hatch. A wicked grin curled his lips. “So am I,” he promised, and stepped through the portal into a 12

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small cabin lit by several free-floating globes that hovered in the air like helium-filled party balloons. How festive. “Our work area.” Somehow he made the word “work” sound deadly seductive. In his case it probably was. Sam shivered, but not from cold. From her perch in his arms she glanced about the space… Empty except for the bobbing light globes and something that looked like one of those molded plastic chairs without arms. Only this chair had no legs, either. It levitated a few feet off the deck in the center of the cabin, held aloft by God knew what. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She’d expected something…well, erotic. A sci-fi sex chamber filled with dancing neon dildos maybe. Not that she found the idea of dancing dildos all that erotic, but they were the only high-tech sex toy she could dream up at the moment. A medieval bordello hung with tapestries depicting naughty acts had been another possibility, something to match Mr. Muscle’s gothic garb. This place was neither. It looked clean at least, and smelled the same, nothing like the dusty, stinky bridge. It was almost too clean, all pristine white bulkheads and deck. There was a sterile, antiseptic quality to the cabin, sort of like a… Her breath snagged in her throat. This looked like an operating room. There were no instruments in sight, but that chair thing had velvet straps dangling from it. Red velvet, the color of blood. Oh, God, maybe sex wasn’t the threat here after all. How did she know what “sex” meant to an alien? In those tabloid 13

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stories she’d scanned, the aliens abducted humans to…to experiment on them. Fear knifed down her spine, flooding her with adrenalin, giving her the strength to fight his hold. A hold that hardened into iron around her the second she started kicking to be free. Right. Like she’d expected this to be easy? Fat chance. The guy was built like a brick wall. Switching tactics, she clawed at his face—a useless maneuver since she had a bad habit of biting her nails, and they were all gnawed to the nub. He laughed at her struggles. “Spirited lass, aren’t you?” Sam glared. “Laugh this off, buster.” Grabbing two fistfuls of black hair, she yanked him forward, intent on chomping off his nose. Her mouth connected with his lips instead. Or his lips landed on hers. Who knew how the kiss happened? Once it began, she couldn’t stop it, didn’t even think to try. How could she think at all with his mouth melded to hers, that hot tongue thrusting into her? Hot and wet… Hungry… Stealing her breath, rocketing her pulse, building a fire in her belly— And leaving her panting for more when it broke off and she dropped out of his arms. Like a hawk after prey, the chair swooped in under her, lengthening to a chaise-like recliner as she hit it, supporting her from head to heel. More than supporting. It conformed perfectly to her curves, warm and vibrating beneath her, almost purring. Holy shit, the thing wasn’t alive, was it? Were those straps 14

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hanging off it…or tentacles? As if in answer—though what kind of answer she wasn’t sure—the velvety tendrils snaked up and around her, locking her in place, one at each of her ankles, two at her middle, and two more crisscrossing over her chest and shoulders like a cross-your-heart bra minus the cups, or a safety harness. Except she felt anything but safe. In angry panic, her raised fists contracted into whiteknuckled vises, eliciting a low grunt from the head hovering an arm’s length above her. The head’s owner had released her, but somehow, in the heat of the moment, she’d forgotten to reciprocate. Now her hands were frozen and she couldn’t let go even if she’d wanted. Which she didn’t. Breathing hard, she dragged his head lower, till his nose nearly touched hers. “Make this…this…whatever the hell it is let go of me.” “Why? You’re not comfortable? This is a class-A model form-chair—or ’orm-chair as they’re more popularly called. ’Orms have a specialized electro-magnetic circuitry embedded throughout them and a chameleon factor that allows them to change shape. They’re programmed to respond directly to their occupant’s shape and condition. An ’orm reads the body’s overall electrical charge and automatically adjusts itself to the optimum ergonomic position. You should be very…comfortable.” Warm breath feathered her face with his words. His eyes half closed and his head sank lower until his lips grazed hers. The touch sizzled through her like a lightning strike. 15

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Choking, she jerked him back, her fingers digging into his scalp. “I’m also tied down, damn it!” “That’s your doing, love, not mine.” Pure danger gleamed down at her from those hooded dark eyes. “Some ’orms are more finely tuned than others. This one reads brain waves as well as the kinesthetic charge. It senses you’re feeling…unsteady, shall we say, and is protecting you from falling out. Relax and it will let go. “Speaking of which—” He braced his hands on the top edge of the ’orm, leaning into her even as she struggled to hold him off. “I’m not sure what the proper protocol is in your society, but in mine, when a kiss has ended, the polite female lets go of the man’s head. Unless, of course”—the gleam in his eyes heated—“she’s hoping for another kiss?” Without warning, the two straps at her middle unwound, rose, and curled around her wrists, breaking her hold on him, pulling her arms down and fastening them at her sides. “Ah, you see that?” He smiled, pure devilment in the expression. “You do want me to kiss you again.” How the hell did he figure that? “No, I don’t!” She twisted her face away as his mouth moved to capture hers. The kiss struck steamy and sweet on the soft spot just below her ear. Seeming utterly unconcerned about missing his original target, Deuce took the opportunity to nuzzle her neck, instead, nipping and nibbling, licking…sending fiery tingles into her groin. “Yes, you do, and more than a kiss,” he whispered against 16

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her. “The ’orm responds to your innermost thoughts. That’s why it’s secured your arms. It’s protecting you—not just from falling, but also from yourself. It knows you don’t really want to stop me. And so do you.” He lifted a hand to trace the velvet bonds crisscrossed over her chest, his fingers so close to her breasts…almost touching. Sam gritted her teeth to keep from groaning and strained against the straps—strained too against the desire welling up within her. “I don’t know anything of the sort. Hell, I don’t even know if you’re really a man.” Her eyes blazed with the accusation. “You could have scales and a tail under that fairy suit!” Deuce drew back, grinning. “Have a thing for lizards, do you, love?” He pulled off his boots, then began unlacing his doublet. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m as human as you are.” He was going to prove it, too. Her and her big mouth. Sam strained harder against her bonds as his doublet hit the deck with a soft swish and he started work on the fastenings of his shirt, talking to her all the while. “Earth isn’t the only planet that has spawned what your people term homo sapiens. Our species is found all over the galaxy. Quite a puzzle, that. Some scientists call it a ‘cosmic coincidence,’ just an accident of evolution that happens independently wherever certain conditions occur. Others speculate we all originated from a common source and spread outward from there. No one knows for sure.” He paused a moment, a wistful look clouding his eyes. “It’s a mystery 17

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some have spent their whole lives trying to solve, part of man’s ongoing quest to find himself and his place in the universe. It’s not my purpose to unravel it, I’m afraid, but if things were different, if I had the means and the chance, I’d dearly like to try.” Suddenly blushing—and Sam doubted it was over the act of undressing—he grabbed the hem of his tunic-style shirt, yanked it up and over his head. Her breath hitched at the sight of him standing there halfnaked, the muscles in his chest and arms rippling like molten copper in the glow from the hovering globes, and a tooobvious bulge tenting the front of his tights. A big bulge. Very big and very distracting. Her body responded to it with a throbbing deep inside, an empty ache demanding to be filled. But another ache gripped her, too, a pressure like a fist squeezing her heart. He was an alien, all right. A man, yes—almost too much of a man from what she could see—and she could see a lot— but not like any man she’d ever met before. This one had some brains in his handsome head, and he was treating her as though she had brains, too, as though she was more than tits and ass. How many other men had done that? None. They told dumb blonde jokes and assumed she could barely tie her shoelaces. Deuce bothered to explain weird things like ’orm chairs and offered up cosmic riddles and philosophy, and he did it easily, without talking down to her. He’d just given her the gift of a confession, she was pretty sure—a little glimpse 18

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inside himself to a secret longing he didn’t share with many people. Damn him. How could she not be touched by something like that? For God’s sake, the guy’s physical appeal was difficult enough to fight. How could she resist a man who was willing to talk to her, even when she was spread out butt naked in front of him? His thumbs slipped under the waistband of his tights and, in a few sinuous moves, like a snake shedding its skin, he was naked, too, the bottom half of him as deadly delicious as the top. Sam’s mouth dropped open at the size of the erection jutting toward her. That wasn’t a cock. It was a battering ram. Her muscles tensed, all her nerve endings humming. Liquid heat rolled through her, pooling in a surge of creamy moisture between her thighs. Deuce’s gaze struck her like a laser beam, frying her where she lay. And—damn it— the ’orm was moving, floating straight toward him! He stared at her open mouth. “Is that an invitation?” Sam snapped her jaw shut. If only she could do the same with her legs. What the hell was happening? This damn thing she was strapped to was changing shape again, its lower portion splitting down the middle like the parting of the Red Sea. Her legs, anchored in place at the ankles, parted with it. Holy shit… It jolted to a stop with him standing between her knees, her nether regions splayed wide open to his view. He took full advantage of the situation, studying the exposed area like a 19

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shark eyeing bait. “Ah, now that is an invitation,” he said. In the visual equivalent of a lava flow, his gaze slid up over her torso to her breasts— Which thrust out in response, the ’orm curving beneath her, arching her spine. Deuce licked his lips and her nipples hardened. “A veritable feast.” He glanced from her chest to her crotch and back again, like a little boy at a candy counter trying to decide which delicacy to sample first. “One hardly knows where to begin.” He brushed his hands up the inside of her thighs—a gentle touch, testing the waters. Finding it warm, apparently, he broadened the field of exploration, drawing lazy circles over her abdomen and stomach, his fingers licking her like flames, and his deep purr of a voice an added audio caress. “Sex is simply a form of communication, a process of listening and response. It’s the language of the flesh,” he explained, like a schoolmaster beginning a lecture. “To achieve fluency in it requires the ability to both give and take. But from what I’ve seen of your society, it seems that too many women end up giving more than they get. So your first lesson, love, is to learn how to receive pleasure.” And he was the one spooning it out. Or should that be laying it on with a trowel? Sam’s protest strangled in her throat as electric shivers shook her. This was going from bad to worse. The man was concerned about her pleasure? Cripes, he was more dangerous 20

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than she’d thought. I’m doomed… The ’orm—damn it to hell—floated toward him a few more inches, sliding her breasts right under his palms. Not one to miss an opportunity, Deuce squeezed and rubbed what he’d been given, making her toes curl. Then he narrowed the focus to her nipples, rolling the hard nubs between thumb and forefinger. Fire flooded her veins. He knew what he was doing, didn’t he? She wriggled and bucked against her bonds, hating the fact she wanted him to do more. “Clever contraption, this ’orm, isn’t it?” he remarked. “I think it sucks,” she panted out. “Sorry, love, that’s one thing it can’t do. Not to worry, though.” He winked. “I can.” Yeah, that’s what she was afraid of. “Never mind. You don’t have to demonstrate!” Frantically, she pushed backward, breaking into a sweat with the effort. The uncooperative ’orm just tilted forward and levitated until her breasts were on level with Deuce’s face. He stared at them, his eyes glowing like embers ready to ignite whatever he touched. And what he touched was Sam. Gripping her ribcage, he leaned forward, whispering. “You see? The ’orm knows what you want.” So did he. His lips closed around her left nipple and the air steamed straight out of her lungs. Her hands, trapped at her sides, balled into fists as he teased with tongue and teeth, then settled into a long suckling, hot and sweet. She fought to hang 21

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onto her wits. Maybe the ’orm was reading her correctly, maybe she did want this. But she shouldn’t. And she sure as hell didn’t need it. He switched to the right nipple, giving it equal attention, then slid his grip to her hips and kissed a sultry line down the center of her belly to the triangle of fluffy curls at its base. The hated ’orm dipped backward into horizontal position again and pulled her legs farther apart, allowing his mouth full access to her pussy, which almost exploded as he licked her from stem to stern. Groan. She didn’t need that either. His tongue probed deep, exploring every creamy crevice before zeroing in on her clit and flicking it into a tiny, pulsing erection. Such a small spot to be so loaded with feeling, so connected to every nerve in her body. Sam shuddered under the onslaught of sensation. She didn’t need sex training, especially not from some overly endowed alien who was taking her to her… Destiny? Is that what he’d said? Good God, the whole thing was insane. The more so because what he stirred in her was beginning to feel like something pre-destined, something bigger than herself. It felt like Fate, overpowering and inescapable. She might have been born for this very moment, might have been created just for him. Or had he been created for her? Did it matter? Suddenly she wanted them to belong to each other, wanted the union to be complete, flesh joining to flesh as her heart merged with his. Her mind said what a bad, stupid idea, even as the rest of 22

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her cried out to be filled. She wanted a cock in her! His cock. No, needed it—now—and damn the consequences. Like magic, the straps holding her fell away and she slipped to her feet. How ’bout that? He’d told the truth about the chair. It let go the moment she stopped struggling. Deuce stumbled back a pace, the look in his eyes similar to the one Dr. Frankenstein must have displayed when he realized he’d created a monster. He held up his hands. “Wait, I wasn’t finished!” “Damn straight you’re not.” Breathing out steam, she advanced. “This is just beginning. It’s time for the student to give the trainer a lesson.” Before he knew what hit him, she attacked, pressing in full-length, winding her arms around his neck and straining up on tiptoe to plunder his mouth. She kissed like a wild woman, drinking him in—rubbed against him like a cat, reveling in the warm feel of his skin, the solid steel of his muscles, and his rock-hard erection grinding into her abdomen. His scent surrounded her, musky and male and mixed with the tang of her own arousal. A potent perfume. The smell of sex. The taste of sex, salty and rich, intoxicating as a drug. Deuce moaned against her mouth, trying to extricate himself from her hold. But not with much conviction, Sam noted. With her lips locked to his, she swiveled them about a hundred and eighty degrees and shoved forward with all her strength. He toppled straight into the waiting ’orm, which instantly expanded to accommodate his size and weight. 23

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And Sam’s, too. She landed flat on top of him, chest-to-chest, belly-tobelly, thigh-to-thigh. A good start, but only a start. Her legs fell open, bringing his shaft in direct contact with her slit. Much better. She braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed upright to straddle him, then slid back and forth over the length of his erection, making him slick with her juices. A low, guttural noise sounded from deep in his throat, something between a growl and a groan. He shuddered and struggled to sit up, grabbing for her arms to swing her off. The ’orm grabbed him faster, its straps raising to pull him back and trap him in place under her. Sam grinned—a woman without mercy. “You’re right. This thing is clever.” She was beginning to like it immensely. “But don’t stop struggling just yet, okay? I wouldn’t want it to release you too soon. It’s kind of fun seeing you tied down so I can have my way with you.” Her eyes half-closed and she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, giving him a vixen of a look, smoking him down to his toes. Pure temptress. Marilyn Monroe couldn’t have done any better. Deuce groaned again, like a man in pain, but it was obvious he fought himself more than her. “This shouldn’t be happening. I was only supposed to tantalize…to seduce you, but not take things all the way. It’s part of your…your sexual awakening…your purpose…” She heard him through a red hot haze, his words scarcely registering, drowned out by the drumbeat of her pulse in her 24

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ears and the throb of his pulse pounding equally hard under her hands. Awakening? Hah. In case he hadn’t noticed, she was already as awake as she was going to get. More awake than she’d ever felt in her life. “Fuck ‘purpose.’” She angled her hips so the head of his shaft nudged her opening. “Better yet, fuck me.” With a heavy thrust, she drove down, taking him in halfway to the hilt—gasping as the force of the entry arched her spine like an electrical charge ripped through her. Her muscles contracted around him and Deuce’s gasp echoed hers. So tight he fit, such a blistering big organ. For a second she thought she’d split at the seams if she took any more. Then the ’orm bucked upward beneath them, cramming every last inch of him into her, locking them together in a coital embrace that somehow transcended simple sex. There was nothing simple about this. Blood boiled and flesh fried. That electrical charge thrummed through her again, setting off a buzzing in her brain, coiling energy within her almost like the onset of an orgasm but more so—something mystical added to the mix, something magical. She could feel his desire as well as her own, sense the racing of his heart and the fire in his loins as though they shared the same body. Sultry sizzle rocking her from head to toe. “The ’orm…” Deuce panted out. “It’s programmed to read one entity at a time…whoever is in contact with it. Holding two has confused the damn thing. It can’t separate you from me, so it’s reading us as if we’re a single unit, blending our brain waves and auras together…” 25

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“Linking us body, mind, and soul,” Sam finished for him. “You’re very astute,” he rasped. She answered in a throaty purr. “I have an IQ of 170— genius level—but no one ever believes it.” “I do.” “I know.” Her voice caught on the words. Suddenly she knew a lot, almost too much. Her heart hitched as thoughts and images flashed from his head to hers, telling her more about him—and herself—than she could comfortably swallow. A big, bittersweet pill, all that awareness flooding her so fast. She gulped, trying to choke it down. His mind stretched the boundaries of her consciousness, even as his erection stretched the slick walls of her sex, vibrating within her like a lightning bolt turned solid. Or was that his emotion she felt vibrating? She could no longer tell where he began and she ended. Everything he sensed, she sensed, too—sensed it from her perspective and his, then back again as she felt him sensing her. Around and around it went, their feelings boomeranging back and forth, reflected over and over like a mirrored spinning ball. He was inside her. Completely. All of him. Filling her to overflowing. And she was inside him. She ran her hands over his chest, felt him quiver under her palms and quivered with him—knew what her touch felt like to him, knew what his swollen member experienced when she started riding it. Lost in the joining, she lifted and sank…lifted and sank…rising and falling like the undulation of an ocean 26

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wave, sliding him in and out with hot, smooth thrusts. A low growl escaped him and he dropped the last shreds of his resistance. The ’orm responded by dropping its bonds, giving him free rein to grab Sam and pull her to his chest. His hips matched the rhythm of hers and together they speeded the tempo. The thrusts grew harder, hotter, faster and deeper, fueled by their linked energies. An explosion looking for a place to land… It hit like the Big Bang, rocking them, rocking the ’orm— which panicked and whipped two straps around their middles to keep them from falling out—rocking the entire galaxy, it seemed. Definitely sending a tremor through the ship. Sam almost blacked out. Her own orgasm was a lollapalooza, but mixed with the simultaneous sensation of Deuce’s, and the double whammy of him feeling hers, and the ricochet reaction of her feeling him feel it…and so forth and so forth. She collapsed like a wrung-out rag over him as the shock waves settled, leaving her all warm and fuzzy inside with his energy tingling through her. “It’s a miracle we’re not dead,” she said. Deuce cranked open one eye, acting as though the lid weighed a ton. “You mean I’m still alive?” “I’d say it’s a safe bet since the ’orm felt obliged to tie us in. I doubt it would worry about protecting a corpse.” “Oh. Right. Good point.” He hauled open his other eye to gaze at the straps laced over her back, binding her to him at the waist. “Not that I’m complaining, but I wonder when it’ll 27

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decide it’s safe to let us go.” Safe? Sam shivered, her warm tingles suddenly mixed with an icy prickle of dread. So much she’d discovered when her mind melded with Deuce’s, such a brain-bending blend of good news and bad. The bad had been pushed aside by the recent ecstasy, but demanded attention now. She lifted her head off his shoulder to stare down at him. “Will we ever be safe?” He didn’t answer, didn’t have to. The ’orm still linked them, not as completely as during the lovemaking, not enough to read his thoughts, but enough for her to feel the sudden sadness in him, to see her own anxiety mirrored in his eyes. She’d have sensed his feelings even without the technical aid. They were bound together now by stronger ties than the ’orm’s. They were also in serious trouble, the victims of a devious plot hatched years before when dozens of clones had been surreptitiously planted in unsuspecting wombs on Earth and left there to “ripen” until harvest time. It was part of the plans for a bizarre business venture geared to capitalize on a growing interstellar craze for old TV transmissions from Earth. Whoever would have guessed all those eternal, infernal radio waves escaped from Earth’s atmosphere to bounce around outer space would have found such an audience? The scheme had been masterminded by the Prince of Helle to bolster his planet’s sagging economy. All that and more Sam had discovered in Deuce’s mind. She knew now that Helle was a tourist world, but with the advent of a certain 28

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other tourist “world” on Earth, Helle’s business had taken a nosedive. Too many of the galaxy’s human population had started vacationing in Florida, instead—and some of the notso-humans as well since it was so easy for them to blend in there. Who’d notice a few extra four-foot tall mice or talking ducks? The pissed-off prince had retaliated by using his rival’s planet as his “garden,” secretly seeding it with movie star clones created from the DNA of Earth’s most famous sex symbols (famous all over the galaxy due to the escaped TV transmissions), with three copies of each original planted for insurance, because with clones you could never be sure how they’d turn out apparently. The DNA assured a physical duplicate at birth, but how that duplicate developed afterwards depended partly on his or her environment, a difficult thing to control. Of the three Marilyn Monroe clones, for instance, Number One had entered sports early on, which modified what otherwise would have been voluptuous curves into lean muscle—not unattractive, but not what the prince needed for his project either. Number Two had formed the right curves, but had formed a deeply religious bent to go with them and become a nun. Which the prince needed even less considering the project in question was a cinematic cat-house, where pampered patrons could watch vintage Earth films from the luxurious comfort of the ’orm chairs Helle’s technicians had created for optimum viewing pleasure. Then the more adventurous patrons could rent their choice of the films’ stars 29

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(or their genetic equivalent at least) for a different sort of pleasure. From a business standpoint, the plan did have potential, Sam had to admit. It was just too bad she happened to be the third Marilyn Monroe clone and the only one to have “ripened” properly. That made her extra valuable, especially since the prince planned on “Marilyn” being one of his new amusement park’s chief rides…so to speak. As a matter of fact, he’d delayed the grand opening until she could be harvested. Hence, the crash course training enroute to prepare her for the role, with the instructions to not carry things over the edge. She was supposed to be so cranked up by the time they landed on Helle, she’d be ready to leap into action. And, hopefully, her trainer would be, too, since he was the sexcinema’s other prime attraction. “He’s a clever devil, the Prince of Helle, isn’t he?” she mused aloud. “He had it all planned out.” “But he never suspected how the ’orm could link us, and that what we found within each other would push us past lust into something more. He didn’t plan on us falling in love.” Sam startled at the sound of Deuce’s voice, even though they were still packed together like sardines, even though she was still staring into his eyes…even though she knew he spoke the truth. That last was the startling part, of course—the good part. They were in love. It had happened so fast. And felt so right. Granted, she’d fallen in love fast before—though never as hard as this. She had a habit of loving every man she slept 30

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with. A bad habit she’d always thought, and really dumb behavior for someone who prided herself on her brains. But she didn’t feel dumb now because the difference this time— for the first time—was that the man loved her back. She wouldn’t have believed it, couldn’t have, if she hadn’t been inside him and felt his love for herself, felt it the way he felt it. He loved her. A lot. Her head reeling with it all, she studied his handsome face, wishing they could enjoy this moment for the miracle it was, untainted by the evil looming like storm clouds on their horizon. If only she could sink into him for a long cuddle, savor the luscious feel of his body, his heart beating against hers, without fearing the future. It was cold comfort to know she hadn’t gone nuts, that he did look like who she’d thought when she first saw him standing on the bridge, dripping danger and sex. Ultra suave sizzle. Agent Oh!-Oh!-Seven in the flesh. “If the women on other worlds are anything like the women on Earth, you’re going to be a hotter commodity than ‘Marilyn.’ Your blueprint can melt them in their seats even without his hair, and you’ve still got yours. Hell, given the chance, I’d have paid a bundle to sleep with him myself.” Not that she’d ever had a bundle. Which reminded her of the one other good part of this mess—she could stop worrying about her crummy finances now. Slaves didn’t need money, did they? Her mouth twisted into a grim smile, irony putting a bitter taste on her tongue. 31

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Deuce’s tone echoed the sarcasm of hers. “Thanks, I really needed to hear that. So you love me because of whose image I was made in? You want to think of me as him?” “Don’t be an idiot.” Sam’s smile softened as her gaze held his. “Yes, I may have been smitten with him—along with a billion other women, probably—and I admit I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to find someone who matches his image, but I’m a genius. Remember?” The smile turned teasing. “I’m certainly smart enough to know when I’ve found something better. I’ve shared your mind, babe, and I can tell you that as nice as your surface is, your interior is infinitely more beautiful. That’s who I love—you. “And I don’t view you as the replica of a Hollywood hottie any more than I think of myself as one. DNA isn’t everything. They can clone bodies, but not the souls to put in them. No matter who we look like, we’re still our own people.” “Tell that to the prince. As far as he’s concerned, we’re property. His.” A humorless laugh rumbled against her as Deuce pulled her flush against his chest. The ’orm tightened its straps, locking them closer, but his arms locked around her even tighter. Sam buried her face in his neck, felt his breath feathering her hair when he spoke, such a wistfulness in the words. “You’re the clone, love. No one seems to know what I am. Everything about me tests out as human, but how I got this way is a mystery.” To say nothing of a genuine marvel. She’d glimpsed it in his mind. God only knew what it meant…if there was a God. 32

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For the first time in years, she wondered about that. “The Harvesters found you in stasis in some sort of ancient space capsule—or an artificial womb maybe. I’m thinking the best name for it might be a ‘Genesis Chamber.’ It looked like a giant egg, right?” “More or less. And they sold it to the prince—right after it was determined that none of my role model’s clones on Earth had turned out properly. The dwarves are independent agents. They call themselves Harvesters, but they’re really more salvagers, from what I can tell. There’s all sorts of debris floating around the galaxy. They net the more interesting items in a tractor-beam and sell them to the highest bidder.” “Damn straight we do.” Jotto’s voice buzzed through the cabin, a metallic reverberation tinning his tone. “There’s a fuckin’ good market for space trash, if you can match the right crap to the right buyer. Helle’s always been one of our best customers, what with that bloody big museum they got there for the tourists.” “Yeah,” Notto’s voice added. “Deuce was one of our best finds. Do you lads remember what happened when we opened the egg? The prince took one look inside and asked, ‘What the deuce do you call this?’ And Xotto said, ‘Well shit, that’s as good a name as any, I guess.’ So Deuce it was!” A raucous round of laughter crackled out from the crew, punctuated by a loud, fruity belch. That had to be Bleggh. Sam went rigid, a hot blush burning her crimson. “Have they been watching us?” “The glo-globes,” Deuce whispered. “I forgot the blasted 33

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things also function as monitoring devices and intercoms. The controls for them are on the bridge. There’s no way I can deactivate them from here.” His hands slid down her spine and cupped her ass. To shield it from view? Very chivalrous of him, Sam was sure, although she suspected an ulterior motive at work, too. His masculine apparatus had slipped out earlier, but now acted like it was hoping to slip back in, hardening against the inside of her thigh. “Your timing sucks,” she hissed, through clenched teeth, into Deuce’s ear. “It’s not my idea. It’s his,” he defended himself. His erection nuzzled her slit as though nodding agreement. “Can’t help himself, poor boy. Got cold, probably. He’s just looking for a place to warm up.” “That’s not funny.” She thumped a fist on his shoulder. “Why do men always talk about their dicks like they’re separate entities?” Jotto chuckled. “’Cause that’s what it feels like sometimes. Right, lads?” “I got mine trained to do tricks,” Xotto called. “Anyone want to see him jump through a hoop?” A chorus of cackles vibrated the air. “I’m going to strangle every one of those damn dwarves,” Sam gritted out. Deuce moved beneath her, his hands hot on her ass, his hips shifting, angling his rod for entry. With an audience no less. 34

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She lifted her head to glare at him. “This is depraved. How can you even think about sex right now?” Even worse, he was making her think about it. Her nipples hardened against his chest and her breath quickened. She groaned at her body’s too-ready response to his. “Oh, I don’t know. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact there’s a beautiful woman I’m in love with lying naked on top of me, could it?” “That’d do it for me, all right!” Xotto declared amidst hoots and catcalls from his cronies. Perverts. Sam gasped as Deuce thrust in. Her eyes crossed with the force of the entry. Holy shit… ::My feelings, too,:: he said silently, straight into her head. ::But under the circumstances, it’s the only way we can communicate without being overheard. We need full sexual contact, apparently, for the ’orm to link our thoughts.:: ::Very clever, but you might have warned me somehow, you sneak. I thought you were just being horny.:: ::I am horny. You have that effect on me. A lucky thing, too, or this wouldn’t work.:: It still might not work. Yes, they could now talk mind-tomind. But only if she could maintain a coherent stream of thoughts with all the other sensations sweeping her…that intense blending of their bodies and souls into one. God, this was going to be tricky. “Holy shit,” she repeated aloud. 35

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“Relax, ducky, we can’t see nothin’. Just got the audio on,” Jotto told her. “Prince’s orders. He told us to keep an eye on you… Well, an ear, at any rate.” “Right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Flotto put in. A sharp whap sounded as someone smacked him. “Ow! What was that for?” “She ain’t got no knickers on, you stupid twit,” Vrotto said. “We beamed her up nekkid, didn’t we?” Notto snorted. “Yeah, that was Princey’s orders, too. He’s a crafty bastard, he is.” “With a narsty temper,” Totto grumbled. “He won’t like this, y’know. He told Deuce to keep his jumpin’ johnny in his pants, and he told us to stop things if he didn’t.” “Bugger the prince. What he don’t know won’t hurt us,” Jotto said. “Let ’em have their fun.” “Fun?” Totto’s voice cracked on the word. “That last bloody bit of ‘fun’ knocked us into hyperspace two points too soon! I had to recalculate the coordinates to compensate for the over-jump.” “Bitch, bitch, bitch. You and those cruddy coordinates,” Vrotto groused. “I’m with Jotto. Let ’em have at it, while they can. Didn’t you hear them say they’re in love? There’ll be no more of that once we reach Helle. They’ll be stabled in separate quarters and only let out to work. Prince Pain-in-theArse ain’t about to allow any hanky-panky between his clones. For someone runnin’ a sex-park, he’s really kind of a prude, if you ask me.” A solid whump burst over the intercom with hisses and 36

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crackles on its heels. Totto must have slammed his console. “Well, nobody did ask you, now did they?” he yelled. “You flamin’ fruit!” “Fruit! He said fruit! You know what that word does to me!” Notto let out a bellow like a warthog in heat. “Oooooh…I need fruit! Now!” “Well, crap, if he’s going to, I could go for some, meself,” Xotto chimed in. “Me, too!” Flotto panted. “I want one of them big red Martian melons. They’re so wet and squishy inside.” “Shit,” Jotto cursed. “Now you’ve made me hungry— figuratively speakin’. Vrotto, break out the melons!” he ordered. “And don’t cut the holes too big this time. I like a nice tight fit.” “Oh, God,” Sam said. “They’re not going to—” ::I’m afraid they are,:: Deuce answered. ::Try not to think about it. Your mental images of them fucking fruit on the bridge are hardly what I call arousing. How am I supposed to concentrate? I’m losing my focus here.:: ::Hey, buddy, you started this, so don’t complain now if things aren’t moving along to your liking.:: She pushed back to give him another glare, but, with the ’orm’s straps locking them at the waist, the upward thrust of her top half shoved her lower half down, driving him deeper into her, sending an electric shudder through them both. His erection expanded to new proportions, instantly regaining its…um, focus. He started rocking his hips, sliding in and out of her in fractions, small partial thrusts wickedly calculated to make her want 37

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more. “Ah, now that’s the kind of ‘moving’ I like,” he murmured. The inner energy that went with the comment sizzled the ’orm’s circuits—and Sam’s. Groaning, she collapsed full onto him. At least the dwarves couldn’t see them. Thank heaven for small favors. For that matter, thank heaven they couldn’t see the dwarves, but… ::Do we have to do this while they’re listening?:: ::Give them a few minutes to get busy with the melons and they’ll never notice what we’re doing.:: Sam tensed at the images flowing from his mind to hers. ::Deuce, what are we doing?:: ::Escaping,:: he answered as silently as she asked. ::While they’re having a fruit-frolic, we’re going to fuck our way to freedom.:: Good God Almighty… That’s what she thought he’d thought. Chills, hot and cold, swept her as he refined the plan, laying it out in his head for her to read, step by step. To begin with, this cabin they were in was, in reality, a separate space capsule, an escape pod, the ship’s life raft, so to speak. Deuce had chosen it for their “work area” because it was the only part of the ship the fruity dwarves didn’t live in, and therefore the only part free from squalor. Stored behind its white bulkheads, in hidden recessed cabinets, were its controls, computer and generator, along with tools, emergency rations and other supplies—everything a castaway space traveler would need to find, reach and survive on an alien world. It was connected to the mother craft only by 38

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that single passageway—a towline, more or less—that would break away if the pod were launched. The problem was it couldn’t be launched while they were in hyperspace, which was another dimension, so before any escape could be wrangled, they’d have to bump the ship back into their home dimension of space-normal. Sam’s eyes bugged at what that would require. “How many orgasms?” She jerked back with the squawk. Heavy grunting and panting poured through the intercom system, shaking the hovering glo-globes, signaling the melon orgy was in full swing and the dwarves, in all likelihood, wouldn’t notice anything she said aloud, but Deuce still pulled her down flat against him. The action cautioned silence. ::It’ll take about seven, I’m guessing,:: he mind-spoke. ::At present, this ’orm is powered by a wireless connection to the ship’s generator. When we climax, it apparently sends a backlash of energy through the system, which creates a power surge that boosts the ship’s speed—speed we’re going to need to break out of hyperspace. According to Totto, our first climax knocked us into hyperspace early, but the ship was already nearing entry-velocity then, and it requires more force to exit the dimension than it does to get in. What the dwarves call ‘hyperspace’ is what your scientists might call a ‘black hole.’ ::Just like with a real hole, it’s easier to jump in than jump out. The only way we can manage it from here is to increase the speed in increments—quickly, so the power builds without dissipating between surges. One rapid string of orgasms 39

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should create enough thrust to push us free. The moment we’re back in space-normal, I can launch this capsule with a voice command and have us out of range of the dwarves before they realize what’s happened.:: ::Providing they stay busy enough with their orgasms to miss what ours are doing.:: Sam shivered. Fear coiled like an over-wound spring inside her at the dangers involved. Deuce’s arms tightened around her. ::And providing we don’t die in the process.:: He wasn’t joking. The way the ’orm linked their energies, magnifying every sensation, that first orgasm had nearly given them strokes. Repeating it seven times in rapid-fire succession quite possibly could kill them—burst their veins, rupture vital organs—assuming, of course, they could even manage seven encores so fast, a Herculean feat in itself. Sam knew all that, but she also knew what awaited them if they didn’t escape now. And she had to admit, there were worse ways to die. ::I’m willing to try it if you are.:: She lifted her head to meet his gaze, beaming love into his eyes with the silent words. “I’d rather end my life now in your arms than live the rest of it as a slave.” Fear still filled her, but determination and desire filled her more. Most of all, Deuce filled her, his erection pulsing between her legs and his spirit wrapped around her with his physical embrace—his body steady as a rock beneath her and his open mind a beautiful thing to behold. And wonder of wonders, she was the key that had opened him. He’d shared the dreams in her mind—tarnished and hopeless as those poor 40

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dreams had seemed—and realized for the first time since his awakening that he was allowed to dream, too, that mankind was made to dream, to reach high, and even if people never grabbed their goals, the reaching itself was still worth the effort. She let him read all that in her mind, their thoughts flying back and forth faster than they could blink, one last lightspeed communication. There was still so much in him she wanted to explore and this was their last chance to talk before the escape attempt got down and dirty. If the attempt failed, it would be their last chance, period. She stared down at him, hoping they were doing the right thing. Risking her life was grisly enough, but Deuce… Sudden doubt struck her. He was something unique, beyond precious, not just to her, but the whole human race. How could they chance losing him? ::Hey, love, I’ve just discovered free will. Let me exercise it, okay? If I want to risk my life, that’s my decision and I’ve made it. I don’t want to be a slave any more than you do. Besides, I’m the one who came up this plan, aren’t I?:: He chuckled. She didn’t. ::But you never even considered escaping before, did you?:: ::I never had much reason to, or much time to ponder it. I’ve only been cognizant since my egg was found and sold to the prince. He formed me for a particular purpose, and since I had nothing to compare that purpose to, I took it for granted it was my destiny to fulfill it. I had to see slavery and freedom 41

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from your perspective to understand the difference between the two.:: Yeah, she realized that—and still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Proud or guilty? He shouldn’t be influenced into such a serious risk by what he’d read in her. She had a long history of making bad choices, a lifetime of chasing rainbows. And tripping over them in the process. ::But always picking yourself up and trying again. That’s what I’ve read in you: Courage. And I didn’t need to enter your mind to see it. It was obvious from the moment you appeared on the bridge, rattled but ready to fight.:: He raised a hand to smooth back the hair from her face. ::You don’t influence me, love. You inspire me. You’re a survivor—a most spirited lass, as I believe I’ve mentioned before.:: More likely a stupid one, if she was inspiring the man she loved to his death. ::Ah, no, you’re a genius.:: Ha-ha. The tone of his thoughts turned wry. ::So is the prince, unfortunately. He’s brilliant really to have figured out what the egg was and how to activate it.:: Also evil, Sam mused. Though no worse than a lot of businessmen on Earth, the kind who threw ethics and ideals out the window when profit margins were at stake. What the prince really was, she supposed, was a grand opportunist, but a little lacking in vision. He’d had a cosmic miracle dropped in his lap, and all he could think to do with it was add another “ride” to his theme park. 42

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Deuce chuckled again, but with little amusement. ::Well, he did need that ‘ride’ since none of the three clones intended for it had ripened to his liking. Frankly, I consider myself lucky he didn’t need an Elvis Presley. He’s got half a dozen of those already—the full quota of clones, plus three impersonators he took a fancy to, and I understand they’re all quite eager to play the King for the prince. Go figure.:: ::I’d rather not, thanks.:: She’d rather know who the egg’s creators were…where it had come from…why…and how exactly the prince had shaped the raw material inside it into the specific image he wanted, then activated the egg so it breathed life into the figure. But none of that was in Deuce’s mind. His memory didn’t start until he took his first breath and stepped into existence a full-grown man (who looked like a famous actor, but that was beside the point). ::All that happened just over a year ago, going by your Earth’s time-reckoning,:: was all he could tell her. ::Until then, I was just a featureless clay model of a man lying on a slab under a transparent dome.:: One of two domes, in fact. The other one had covered a female figure, Sam guessed—or, rather, the remains of one. The second dome had cracked at some point during the egg’s long wandering through space and the clay beneath it had dried to dust. Poor Deuce. He must have felt so alone when he’d awakened solo. A genuine original Man, possibly the only one left in the universe. No wonder he wanted to discover mankind’s origins. He could very well be an integral part of it, 43

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the last of a fleet of prototype humans sent out eons ago to people the galaxy. Adam might have been a better name for him. Though, in his case, it was Adam without an Eve. “Not any longer. I’ve found her.” He said it aloud, his gaze locked onto hers, his eyes holding her firmer than his arms. “Ever since my waking I’ve felt a hollowness inside, like a hunger, but I didn’t know how to feed it. The prince gave me a purpose and the training to accomplish it. I ate, slept, read his library, studied his film collection, bedded his harem…but I couldn’t see much meaning in any of it. I couldn’t see much meaning in me. I existed, but I didn’t feel truly alive till your spirit filled me and I saw what I’d been lacking. A soul. Only loving and being loved can give a man that.” He smiled with the statement, sounding so sure of what he said, so wise. And he was. She’d sensed it in him before and sensed it even stronger now—an age-old wisdom that must have been implanted into the very clay from which he’d been formed. Probably all humans—all creatures—held the same wisdom deep inside, passed on from parent to child, on and on down the line from the very beginning. It was the god-spark, perhaps, that created life and linked everything together. But it was purer in Deuce, cleaner, more powerful, because he was the beginning. In him, the wisdom was untainted and undistilled. “You’ve always had a soul,” she whispered. “You just needed to see yourself through my eyes to recognize it and realize how brightly it shines.” “No, you are my soul, my completion. The prince gave me 44

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full run of his harem so I could learn how to manage the sex required for his purposes, but I needed you to teach me love, to show me my true mission…which still involves sex, by the way.” A devilish gleam lit his eyes and his smile went wicked. His hips, which had never ceased rocking, increased tempo, turning the tiny, teasing motion of the erection inside her into real thrusts. Real noticeable. Sam melted into slag as his hand slipped around the back of her head and drew her down into a kiss that blistered her lips. ::It’s a big mission, you know,:: he mind-spoke. ::And I need you for that as well. I can’t do it alone, love. I need you to help me accomplish what I was created for.:: Lord have mercy…did he have to mention that now? ::Deuce, any fertile female could help you accomplish it.:: His kiss suddenly became ravenous, sucking the breath out of her. ::I don’t want ‘any’ female, damn it. I want you!:: ::All right, already—:: She gasped against him, fighting for air. ::I was just checking, for God’s sake.:: ::Check this.:: His hold hardened and he swiveled, reversing their positions within the circle of the ’orm’s straps, trapping her beneath him and nailing her in place with a smooth, solid strike straight up her center alley. ::There’s more where that came from,:: he mentally warned her. Sam didn’t doubt it, but a sudden, other doubt arose. She clutched his shoulders and moaned as he claimed her fore and aft with lips and hips. His mouth ground down and his rod 45

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rammed in again…and again…furious to possess her. She felt his need, but couldn’t help feeling a new fear with it. He was made for what lay ahead of them if they escaped, but what about her? He might be right in a way about not needing just any female. An original man might need an original woman— and she was definitely only a copy. Was she big enough for this job? Good enough? How the hell had Eve handled it anyway? Let’s face it, Adam had the easy part. ::I hope you realize your mission is going to mean an awful lot of work for my body.:: She shoved the thought into his head to make sure he got it loud and clear. He kissed her harder. ::If I had the physical equipment to do that work for you, I would. But as it stands, all I can do is promise to love, honor, cherish, help and support you in every way I can. From this time forth, your body is mine, and I intend to take very, very good care of it. If you don’t want to do this, I won’t make you, and I’ll still love you just as much— even if we scrap the whole mission. But if you’re game to try, there’ll be no pressure. We’ll take things one step, one child at a time, and see how it goes. How does that sound?:: Like heaven, that’s how. Sweeter than music, more beautiful than a marriage vow—the best thing she’d ever heard, even if she didn’t hear it with her ears. Her heart heard it, which made it sound even better. Pure joy bubbled up in her, coming out in muffled laughter against his mouth. ::Okay, I’ll accept that. Hell, I’ve always wanted a big family anyway.:: “Good. Then let’s ‘blow this joint,’ as they say on your 46

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Earth, so we can get started making one.” Sam wrapped her arms around his neck, bracing herself for the coming cataclysm. And she did mean coming…and coming…and coming. ::Ready when you are, babe. I’m with you all the way.:: ::You bet you are.:: He deepened the kiss, matching the thrusts of his tongue to the rhythm of his hips, leaving her nothing to do but hang on for the ride. The first of the needed orgasms struck like a dump truck, rocketing pulses and rattling teeth. The second slammed in on its heels, whirling the ’orm about in a dizzy spin, and the third, a near heart attack later, shook the entire ship. “Uh-unh-oohhh…” Notto grunted over the intercom. “Did you feel that?” “I felt it, I felt it!” Xotto exclaimed. “Best bloody wank I ever had. Gimme another melon—quick! I’m on a roll here!” “So am I,” Deuce panted out, and started pumping to produce the fourth. Beneath him, Sam quivered and groaned, all her nerve endings crackling like short circuits. “I’m glad one of us is. I’ve gone blind.” “Try opening your eyes, love. It worked for me.” “I can’t. My eyelashes fried on the last one and my lids are seared shut.” “Never mind,” he comforted. “Maybe this one will pop them open again.” Good God Almighty…Deuce was right. The fourth climax exploded and her lids snapped up. But she hardly noticed, 47

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because her eyeballs rolled back in their sockets at the same moment. Then the fifth hit, rolling them forward again, and making the ship sputter and jerk as if it were having a seizure. Sam didn’t blame it. She was teetering on the brink of a seizure herself, shock waves ripping through her like a chainsaw, leaving her bloody and torn in their wake—but astoundingly satisfied, she had to admit. Well, she’d have to be, wouldn’t she, after five earthquake orgasms that registered off the Richter scale? At least I’ll die happy, she thought. Deuce braced up on an elbow to look at her, sweat sheening his skin, chest heaving, and his shaft unbelievably still rock solid and ready for action. “We’re not going to die. If we’ve made it this far, we can finish the job. Just two more should do it, I think.” “Just two? Cripes, I don’t think I have even one left in me.” Bleary-eyed, she stared at him and noticed the hovering glo-globes beyond his head pulsing and swelling like balloons about to burst. They looked like she felt. “How on earth can you keep it up?” “Because for starters, we’re not on Earth. We’re on a spaceship and the artificial gravity is less here, which takes some of the stress off. Secondly, not to sound egotistical, but I was created to help father the human race, so my sexual capacity may be a bit beyond the current norm. And third”— he sank down on top of her, hot male flesh pressing her deep into the ’orm, gearing up for round six—“I was trained for this on Helle. As one of the prince’s new ‘attractions,’ I’d have 48

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been called upon to satisfy multiple women in a short span. Satisfying one woman multiple times is the same thing basically, except easier because I don’t have to hop from bed to bed. Also…” His mouth found hers and he finished the sentence telepathically. ::I happen to love the woman involved. You wouldn’t believe how much easier that makes things.:: “Mmmm…” was all she could answer with her lips captured by a kiss, and the rest of her ravaged by the volcanic pressure of another orgasm about to erupt. What she couldn’t believe was how fast he’d heated her to a fever pitch once more. It just showed you what good training could do for a man. Of course, the love certainly didn’t hurt. She let the emotion carry her over the edge again, wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him while his body worked its magic on hers. Quite a wand he had there. Climax number six shattered the sound barrier—or one of the glo-globes, at any rate. The rest went berserk with the energy that had been built up in the ship’s generator, whizzing hither and yon, colliding with each other in showers of sparks and bouncing off the bulkheads like a ravening horde of big, bloated ping-pong balls on a rampage. Deuce cursed, Sam shrieked, and the ’orm panicked. It bucked under them like a bronco, dipped and dove trying to avoid the insane globes. Then it remembered its dignity—it was a class-A model, after all—and became indignant, huffily holding its ground and issuing a sharp hiss, as though ordering the globes to settle down. When that didn’t work, the irate 49

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’orm went on the offensive, chasing the beastly things and swatting at them with its four free straps, like they were gnats. Obviously, it was damned if it would let them get the better of it. Stupid globes. Snap—Crackle—Pop! It sounded like a bowl of breakfast cereal—only a hundred times louder—as the dizzily swaying ’orm perfected its aim and a second globe shattered. “Oh, God, I’m getting seasick.” Sam moaned. “What the bloody blazes is going on in there?” Jotto yelled, his voice reverberating with the wild zinging of the intercom system it came out of. “There? What’s going on here?” Xotto screeched. “Shit!” A solid whump blasted forth—Totto slugging his console, no doubt. “They’ve boosted the speed! I’ll have to reset all the coordinates again. Another notch higher and we’ll leap out of hyperspace!” “That’s good to know,” Deuce murmured. “Well, stop it! Stop it!” Jotto ordered. “Flotto, throttle back on the generator!” “I can’t.” Flotto whimpered in pain. “Oooww… Me melon’s stuck. I can’t move.” “Throttle back, I told you—screw the melon!” “I did! How do you think it got stuck, you flamin’ fruit?” “Fruit! He said fruit!” Notto gave his warthog-in-heat bellow. “Oooooh… I need more melons—now!” Bleggh belched. Deuce flattened himself over Sam to shield her from a big bull globe that had broken loose from the pack and was 50

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challenging the ’orm one-on-one, weaving in and out of the flashing, lashing straps. “I figure we have about ninety seconds before they sort themselves out up there and downshift on us,” he said. “It’s number seven now or never, love.” Rising to the challenge, he started pumping like a piston. Sam’s eyes popped—but not for the right reason. Ninety seconds to climax, knock them out of hyperspace and launch the escape capsule? When they were already on the wrong side of exhaustion, under attack from hurtling glo-globes, the ship seemed ready to rupture around them, and the ’orm was swinging like a hammock gone haywire? Optimistic, wasn’t he? She buried her face in his neck, feeling herself go cold, even with the warmth of his body grinding into her. “There’s not enough time. We’ll never make it.” “Yes, we will—because we have to. You want to escape, don’t you?” A rhetorical question, obviously. His voice mixed in her ears with the deafening shouts of the dwarves and the rattling of the ship, while the ’orm alternately dodged and attacked globes. God, this was like trying to make love on a bobsled barreling through a battle down a bumpy slope. “Of course I want to escape.” She struggled to block out the racket and motion and focus on the sex. She failed. “It’s just that I find pandemonium about as titillating as a bucket of ice water down my knickers.” “You’re not wearing any knickers. If you were, I couldn’t 51

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do this.” With a low growl, he revved up the thrusting. Faster—harder—deeper. “Stay with me, love. Just one more power surge. We can do this.” How? His energy curled through her like smoke, bringing the first flush of arousal, but too late. She didn’t even have the strength to sit up. She’d never be able to generate a climax in the time they had left. No time and no hope… “We’ll do it,” he said. “Because it’s the only way to escape… Because we love each other… And because the most erogenous zone of the human body is the brain. That would have been Lesson Two of your training, by the way, if we hadn’t skipped that part. So we’re going to backtrack and cover it now. Forget all else and focus on this…” He angled his head to whisper in her ear, his breath hot and his husky voice like the kiss of velvet. “Once we’re free, I’m going to lick every inch of you clean, starting at your hairline and working my way—slowly—down to your toenails, pausing to pay particular attention to your luscious ripe strawberries and that delicious slit between your lovely legs.” Wow… The words were steamy enough, but the images he projected into her mind along with them were scorching. Her pulse soared and an electric tremor began vibrating inside her. “It’s working,” she panted out. “Keep talking.” “And after that, I’m going to open the classy little bar this capsule is equipped with and mix us both martinis,” he promised. “Stirred, not shaken—” That did it. She came like gangbusters. So did Deuce. The ’orm shot 52

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straight up in the air, whirling like a drunken top. The ship shook, lurched and blasted forward, the force of the thrust knocking the spinning ’orm backward and plastering it upright against a bulkhead, along with the crazed globes, which buzzed and crackled with the dwarves’ shouts. “Bloody blisterin’ blazes!” Jotto cursed. “They’ve overboosted! We can’t handle this speed!” He cursed again as tremors racked the hull. “Captain! The warp-drive’s gang t’ blow! I canna hold her together much langer!” Totto squawked. Why did he suddenly have a Scottish accent? “We don’t have a warp-drive, you bleedin’ idiot! It’s a magno-thrust generator,” Jotto told him. “He’s been watchin’ them old Earth videos again,” Vrotto grumbled. “I’ve warned him about that. The flamin’ fruit.” “Fruit! He said fruit!” Notto screamed. “Someone shove a melon in his mouth.” Jotto heaved a gut-wrenching sigh. Bleggh belched. “Shove one in his mouth, too, while you’re at it,” Xotto called. A high-pitched, tinny wail split the air, shattering eardrums—metal shrieking with stress. Bulkheads thrummed with the escalating speed, and the pressure built like a lead weight slamming down, almost collapsing Sam’s lungs. Jotto barked orders, but she couldn’t understand what he said— couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her head was going to explode. So was the whole ship it seemed. 53

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Deuce reached out beyond the ’orm and braced his hands on the bulkhead they were flattened against, pushing back to keep his weight from crushing her more. Sweat dripped off him with the effort. “Hang on,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. And she did. To him. The ship gave another great lurch—jarring bones, stopping hearts—straining and screaming like a mad stallion. Everything shuddered as the door between dimensions yawned open before them—a cosmic chasm sensed, if not seen. The vortex of time and space…swirling…whirling…cracking apart for one blinding instant as they made the final leap…cleared the chasm. And landed with a soft jolt on the other side of Eternity. The door slid shut behind them. A last shiver of power passed through the hull. Then the craft calmed and laughter rang out from the dwarves, their cries rolling over each other like the wild peeling of bells. “We made it! We made it through!” “I knew we could!” “Damn straight, we did!” “Blimey, this is a good ship!” “We’re back in space-normal! Hooray!” Notto cheered. “Ow,” he added when someone slapped him. “What the fuck are you so happy about?” Jotto demanded. “We didn’t want to leave hyper yet, you twit.” “You’re telling me. I’ve got to reset all the stinkin’ coordinates now. Shit.” Totto punched his console. 54

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Jotto punched him. “Forget the bloody coordinates for two minutes, will you? Run down the towline and make sure our cargo’s intact.” “Me?” Totto yelled. “Why do I have to do everything? Let Flotto do it.” “I can’t,” Flotto whimpered. “Me melon’s still stuck.” “So’s your brain,” Vrotto told him. Jotto’s breath blew out in an exasperated whoosh. “Well, somebody better get their arse down there to check on ’em. That capsule they’re in is a single-D traveler. It ain’t fully pressurized inside for hyper-jumps.” “Now he tells us.” Sam groaned as the ’orm slid down the bulkhead into a horizontal position once more and the gloglobes returned to their standard serene hover-mode, all the excess power that had made things manic finally dissipated. A bit too much so. Deuce lay on her like a sack of cement, breathing, but knocked senseless by the ship’s last leap. He’d carried the brunt of the work while they built up the power, and had wrapped his energy around her as a shield when they passed the dimensional door. He’d promised to take care of her and he had, but he’d drained himself in the process. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close, feeling his heart beat against her chest. A regular, strong beat—normal, which was more than she could say for hers— and his breathing was normal as well. His color was good and his skin was warm. Nudging him and getting a small grunt in response, she realized he wasn’t so much unconscious as he 55

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was in a deep, deep sleep. The inner bond they’d developed (and would always have now, ’orm or no ’orm) told her he’d be okay once he’d rested—but nothing short of a nuclear blast would wake him anytime soon. Small wonder. Even an Original Man, a genuine class-A model on all counts, had his limits. Good Lord, what was she supposed to do now? They still had to launch this capsule to complete the escape, and she didn’t know how. Panic pressed down on her with his weight. She fought it back and forced herself to think. She had an IQ of 170, for God’s sake; she ought to be able to figure this out. What had he said before? They could launch it with a vocal command? Yeah, that was it. Relief flooded her. Boy, that was easy. All she had to do was say the right word or words. Now what could the command be? Her brow furrowed in concentration. When they’d exited the bridge, he’d shut the hatch behind them by saying “Close.” So to launch the capsule maybe she should say— “Launch!” The single syllable reverberated through the cabin. And nothing happened. Shit. In rapid order, she tried, “Blast off! Lift off!” and “Fire rockets!” Crapped out on all three. “Disengage. Leave!” 56

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Nope. “Anchors away?” No, of course not. “Cast off? Cut the line? Abandon ship?” Sheesh, this was getting monotonous. “Move it!” she yelled. “Take us out of here, Scotty!” Okay, that last had been pure whimsy. She was becoming desperate. Maybe this wasn’t so easy. What if she’d already gotten part of it right, but the launch command was actually several separate commands that had to be spoken in a particular sequence to make it work? She could spend hours, days even, trying to get the right phrases in the right order. And she had only minutes, at best, before the dwarves figured out what she was attempting. So far they were still arguing over who should check on her and Deuce, but that couldn’t last for long. She paused a second to listen, her heart hammering against her ribs like a wild thing trying to escape. She knew just how it felt. Heavy thumps and grunts poured out the globes. It sounded like a fight had broken out. When had that started? Oh, who the hell cared? “Why not send Bleggh?” Xotto suggested over the din. Bleggh belched. His answer to everything apparently. Sam’s stomach knotted. What if it wasn’t just the command, but the voice it was spoken in? God, there was a ghastly thought. If the ship’s controls were programmed to respond only to authorized vocal patterns, she’d never get the 57

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capsule launched, no matter what she said. “Deuce?” Hands shaking, she lifted his head to study his still face. “Will you wake up for just a minute? Please?” She gave him a little shake. His eyelids flickered open a fraction, then sank shut as though concrete blocks weighted them down. Right. She was on her own here. Not a new experience. Gently, Sam lowered his head back to her shoulder, grappling against the despair that clawed at her insides. “Never mind, baby, you just rest.” She pressed her lips to his brow. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out of this.” How, she had no idea. She hadn’t felt so helpless since she was that pathetic child in the orphanage, praying every night to a God who never seemed to hear. But she wasn’t a child anymore. There had to be something she could do. Think… “Hey, Jotto, we could check ’em through the globes,” Vrotto called. “Turn on the video, why don’t you?” “Because I can’t get no reception from the bloody things, that’s why! No visual and no audio neither! Whatever happened down there knocked out the receivers.” “Well then, one of us better go see if they’re okay.” Jotto let out a roar. “Bloody blazes! Ain’t that what I’ve been sayin’?” “Yeah, but you never said why exactly. It wouldn’t hurt if you’d explain yourself once in a while, you know.” “I don’t have to explain meself! I’m the captain, damn it!” “Says who?” several voices chorused in unison. Jotto roared again. “Says me, that’s who!” 58

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Sam winced as a staccato whap-whap-whap-whap cracked out like machine gun fire. Jotto must have smacked all the challengers. “All right, all right, we was just asking,” Notto said. “Yeah, you don’t have to get so huffy about it,” Xotto added. “Fuck a duck,” Totto cursed, sounding sullen. “We ain’t got no ducks,” Vrotto said. “Have another melon.” Cripes, how much crazier could things get? And how much time did she have left? Mere seconds, Sam guessed. Her head throbbed and exhaustion covered her like an iron shroud—along with Deuce, of course, who was no featherweight. Not that she was complaining. The warmth of his body was a comfort, the only comfort she had just then. And she wouldn’t have it much longer the way things were going—or rather not going. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears, hugged Deuce harder, and did something she hadn’t done in years. She prayed. She was that desperate. “Please, God, if you’re listening, I need a miracle and I need it fast. I know I’ve already been given one”—her hold on Deuce tightened—“and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. But I need another miracle now so I can keep him. I guess that sounds selfish, and it probably is, but I’m not asking just for myself. I’m thinking he’s your miracle, too, God. He was created for something so much bigger and better than 59

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what they’d use him for on Helle—a really grand purpose. Your purpose, isn’t it?” Tears streamed down her face and her voice shook. “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure how good an idea that purpose is. I mean, I can’t see that the human race has turned out all that well so far. But maybe that’s the point, huh? That we have to keep trying until we get it right? I’ve always thought it was the trying that mattered most.” The tears flowed faster and she choked out the rest of the prayer through great, gulping sobs. “So will you give us the chance to try now? If you really want us to go out and do this, please, please help me make this damn thing lift off!” A sudden shiver shook the cabin, followed by a slight jerk, like a cork popping loose. Sam’s eyes snapped open and her breath caught. All around her the glo-globes went dark, deflated, and drifted to the deck like an autumn flutter of dry leaves. Then like magic (or a miracle, perhaps?), the bulkheads began to glow, bathing everything with a soft silver-white light. Hidden panels slid back and control consoles popped forward. In a few blinks of her blurry eyes, the bare cabin transformed into a small space capsule. A low hum filled her ears and the hull above her turned milky translucent, then crystalline clear, revealing the diamond-studded black velvet of outer space. Holy… Her heart hitched at the sight. Holy was the word for it all right. Pure, unabashed, heavenly glory. The universe laid out before her in endless silent splendor, a vast open view of 60

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Forever. Tears streaming down her face, she stared up into it, barely able to breathe, scarcely daring to believe. They were launched? Free? Through the overhead dome she saw another craft growing smaller and smaller as the escape pod pulled away from it. Wow, would you look at that. They were launched. Thank God. She said it aloud. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, God!” “You’re welcome, ducks. We were here to help all the time.” “Yeah, all you had to do was ask.” “That’s the way it works, you see. We ain’t allowed to help unless a person asks for it. We’d feel like we was buttin’ in otherwise. Wouldn’t be polite, y’know?” “You dumb arse. Since when have you ever worried ’bout bein’ polite?” “Me? I’m always polite, ain’t I? You’re the arse.” A solid whump punctuated the statement. Sam nearly strangled on her tongue as the overhead view of space blinked out and was replaced by a view of seven toothy grins beaming down at her. Her arms convulsed around Deuce’s neck, almost strangling him, too, but since he was still senseless, he never noticed. She felt dangerously close to joining him in that state. She stared in horror at the dwarves. “Wh-where are you?” “Back off, you idiots. Quit crowdin’ the screen.” Jotto elbowed the others aside, giving her a peek at their bridge. 61

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“Where does it look like we are? On our ship, of course. And you’re on yours now. Nothin’ fancy maybe, but she’s a sturdy, little craft that’ll get you where you need to go. You earned her fair and square, ducks, paid for her with love, courage…and your prayer. A good one, too, one of the nicest I’ve ever heard—especially since you weren’t sure it’d work.” His grin broadened. “But you prayed it anyway, and straight from the heart. That was the important thing. We had to launch you after that.” They did? Weird chills swept her, like an army of ants marching up and down her spine. “I…I thought you couldn’t hear me…that the globes had been damaged.” “They were.” Jotto’s eyes twinkled, something very old, very wise and kind shining out of their depths. Also very amused. “But we can always hear an honest cry for help.” “Yeah,” Notto piped up. “It’s part of our job to answer prayers.” It was? The ants marched faster, making Sam’s skin crawl. “Mind you, sometimes the answer is ‘no’ or ‘not yet,’” Jotto added. “People don’t always know what they really need. Sometimes they pray for things that would keep them from getting something better. Sometimes there’s a price to be paid or a lesson to learn first. You developed inner strength and resourcefulness growing up alone. You’ll need that for what’s ahead.” The twinkle in his eye softened. “But every prayer is heard, ducks—always. Don’t ever doubt it.” “We’re the Harvesters,” Flotto explained. 62

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“The Heavenly Harvesters,” Vrotto elaborated. “Some call us angels.” Xotto winked. “But you can call us friends.” “Oh, God,” Sam said. Jotto chuckled. “Well, not quite that big, ducky. But we work with Her.” “Her?” Sam’s brow wrinkled. This discussion wasn’t helping her headache. “Her. Him. Whatever.” Jotto shrugged. “It’s all the same. God is God, y’know? God is Love, that’s all.” “We’ve been here since the Beginning,” a new voice said, solemn and low. Bleggh? He talked? Sam’s eyes widened. “Um…the beginning of what?” “Time. What else?” Right. Stupid question. Bleggh belched and she felt better. Everything was back on track. “We saw the first seeds go out and helped plant some of ’em.” Xotto crossed his arms over his chest and looked proud. Sam looked confused. “Seeds?” “Is there an echo in here?” Notto asked. Jotto smacked him. “Seeds like Deuce’s.” Flotto scratched himself as he spoke. “A bloody big fleet went out in the Beginning.” From where, Sam wondered, but didn’t dare ask. “Yeah, some found fertile ground and took root,” Totto told her, “but some are still floating around out here.” 63

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“Like Deuce’s,” Flotto repeated, and got a poke from Vrotto. “You already said that, you twit.” Jotto ignored them both—lucky for them. His gaze fastened onto Sam’s. “It’s another of our jobs to find the strays and help steer ’em back on course, as it were.” Uh-huh. Her eyes narrowed. “But you sold Deuce to the Prince of Helle.” That seemed a pretty coarse course. “Got a damn good price for him, too.” Jotto chuckled again. “Well, he needed a new partner, didn’t he?” Vrotto grumbled. “We thought he might find one there in the prince’s harem—or later among the tourists. I mean, where else could he have met so many prospects so quick?” “It was Totto’s idea.” Notto pointed over his head at the culprit. “Was not!” Totto turned redder than his hair. “It was Xotto’s.” “Oh, sure, blame it on me.” Xotto shot him a blistering glare. Jotto pushed between them before they came to blows. “Whatever! It’s all worked out okay, ain’t it? So there’s no harm done.” He smiled at Sam. “We knew you two were a perfect match right off the bat, but we couldn’t tell you that, now could we?” Sam thought of the rocky ride she and Deuce had just been forced to endure and barely managed to keep the acid out of 64

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her tone. “Why not?” Jotto’s bushy blue brows quirked up. “Would you have believed us if we had?” Um…he had a point there. She relaxed and returned his smile. “Probably not.” “There, you see? That’s why then.” “You can’t tell humans anything,” Vrotto muttered. “They’ve always got to learn it all for themselves. The hard way.” Yes, we do, Sam thought. But then nothing worth having ever came without a struggle, did it? And there was nothing like facing danger together to solidify a relationship between two people. Her smile went wry. Maybe this whole thing had just been a test. If she and Deuce hadn’t been able to pull each other through it, they’d have proved themselves incapable of the mission ahead. She gazed up at Jotto to see that wise twinkle lighting his eyes. He knew what she was thinking. And was thinking the same thing. “You learn fast, ducks,” he said, and the twinkle beamed brighter with pride. “It ain’t going to be easy what you two are doin’, but you’ve shown yourself willing to try. You asked for a chance and you got it. There’s half the battle won right there.” Sam nodded. Speech was impossible because a lump suddenly clogged her throat at the trust he was bestowing on her. “You’ll have to find a world of your own first,” Totto told her. “A fresh one. But there are still a few to be had.” He 65

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scratched his head. “Seems to me, there’s a cozy little planet in this sector, not far from where you are now—a real garden spot, just waiting for a nice young couple to move in and start tendin’ it. I don’t recall the exact coordinates—and don’t you dare ask me for ’em.” He shot her a warning look, then buffered it with a grin. “But if you scan around a bit, I’m sure you’ll sight it.” “Yeah,” Xotto said. “Just don’t believe everything the snakes tell you, or eat too many apples.” He winked. “The green ones can give you a bellyache.” “Which?” Flotto asked. “The snakes or the apples?” Vrotto whacked him. “Twit.” Without batting an eye, Jotto grabbed them by their hair and knocked their heads together. Klunk. They keeled over in opposite directions, while he dusted off his hands and turned back to Sam, smiling as though nothing had happened. “You’ll do all right, ducky. We have high hopes for you and your man. He’s a prime one, he is, but so are you, and together you magnify each other’s strengths. Together you have a good shot at creating what we’ve been hoping for since the Beginning.” “Damn straight,” Notto agreed. “Humans were created to help spread love through the universe. If they could just learn that, there’d be less need for angels.” “They’ve got plenty of potential, humans,” Xotto said, “but they haven’t much lived up to it yet.” “Well it ain’t entirely their fault.” Vrotto hauled himself up off the deck and peered over Jotto’s shoulder. Xotto looked like he wanted to knock him back down. 66

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“Did I say it was?” Jotto silenced them both with a glare. “What we mean,” he explained to Sam, “is that the problem with the other ‘starters’—you know, the couples who came out of the seeds—is they were all so innocent. Good, bad…how could they tell the difference without any experience to guide them? It was all trial and error for the early ones. They didn’t learn about evil till it was committed, and by then it was too late to stop it. “But you and Deuce now, you’re not going into this blind. You’ve already seen the narsty side of life and can recognize the pitfalls that lead up to it. That’s why we think the world you’ll create has a better chance of reachin’ the original ideal. Peace and harmony, that’s what we’re hopin’ you’ll plant. A garden of love. Just one good world is all we need—to prove it can be done, set an example, as it were. Show the rest what’s possible, and maybe they’ll take the hint and follow suit. It’s worth a try, don’t you think?” All the dwarves nodded in vigorous agreement, laughing and jabbing each other and jockeying for position, crowding in closer until their faces filled the screen, a swirling kaleidoscope of crazy hair and grins. Then crackles and pops distorted their voices and their features began to blur. The connection was breaking up. Sam hugged her man, who slept warm and snug against her, and stared upward, laughing with the creatures—why, she wasn’t sure, except that the joy flooding her needed some kind of release or she’d burst with it. Fresh tears brimmed in her 67

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eyes, blurring the faces above her even more, and sobs mixed with her laughter, but it was all the same, all happy. One big, beautiful bliss. There’d be more tears to come, she was sure— and ones not nearly so pleasant as these—more trials to pass and troubles to withstand, a mountain of obstacles to dig through. She and Deuce had a hard row to hoe if the Harvesters were depending on them to do what no other “starter couple” had managed before—but, wow, what a mission. Was she scared? Nope, she was terrified. But also ecstatic at the prospect. Her whole life she’d wanted only to love and be loved—had ached for a family to belong to. And now, by God—yes, truly by God—she was going to get it and so much more in the bargain. Good Lord, she was pumped up and ready to conquer the world! Which was exactly what she’d have to do, of course. More laughter bubbled out at the thought. Jotto elbowed his way to the front of the crowd above her and raised his hands in a gesture that looked a lot like a benediction. It probably was. “Go forth with our blessings and multiply your new world,” he called through the rising static. “Just remember, ducks, that the seeds planted with love always bring forth the best fruit.” “Fruit! He said fruit!” Notto bellowed as the screen faded out. Before Sam could blink, the dwarves vanished and the black canopy of space reappeared, star spangled and sparkling 68

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with hope. Stars filling the dome. Deuce filling her arms. Love filling everything, inside and out. Gratitude glowed in her like a beacon. The human race had a bright new chance. Heaven hadn’t given up on them yet. “God is Love,” she’d been told. “That’s all.” Yes, and that was more than enough.

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M IMI RISER

Mimi Riser has been an actress, model, clown, belly-dancer, jewelry designer, editor and publisher, but her first and foremost love is writing. She specializes in offbeat tales where laughter reigns and good always triumphs—but she makes her characters really work for their happy endings. Her books have been said to read like a snowball rolling downhill, gathering size and speed as it goes. But if you think her stories are crazy, you should see her life. Once devout city people, she and her husband exchanged the hustle and bustle of Philadelphia a lifetime or two ago for the natural, rugged splendor of the rural southwest. They were looking for a simpler way of life. They got it. It ended up being so “natural and rugged,” they spent their first six and a half years there in a hand-built house with dirt floors, no electricity and no plumbing. This has proved helpful for her historicals as she can now write about the “olden days” from personal experience. They have since rejoined the 21st century and enjoy life on the open range with a house full of eccentric cats and a large, wacky dog who thinks she’s a cat, too. Mimi has had five novels published to date along with numerous articles and short stories. Her historical romance, I Do, was a “Top Ten Finisher” in the mammoth Preditors & Editors Readers Poll of 2003, and her contemporary comedy, Every Jack Needs His Jil, won the poll the following year for the “Best Mainstream Novel of 2004.” Samantha White and The Seven

Dwarves is her first erotic-romance and was one of the winners in Amber Quill’s 2007 Heat Wave contest. To learn more about Mimi and her writing, please visit her web site: http://www.mimiriser.com

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