Alien Vengeance Read Online Free PDF

as a palace gate, and for a moment she hesitated, peering through the darkness. She wanted to turn and run, but instead, she found her feet carrying her forward. And the cave wasn’t as dark as she’d thought at first. There were wall torches flaring every few yards, just as there would have been at Knossos, and she thought ‘I must tell Hilary.’
    She was excited and frightened at one and the same moment, and the light was almost glaring now, it was so bright, and the only darkness was the man’s tall figure, waiting for her, commanding her, drawing her to him. She was close to him now, close enough to feel his hands closing on her, his breath warm on her face, and she looked up and felt the scream rising in her throat as she saw for the first time the great golden bull’s mask which hid his face ...
    Gemma sat up with a strangled gasp, staring round her, trying to orientate herself. She must have been asleep for some time, because the sun had moved round, and her struggles had been real because the towel had become unfastened and slid down to her hips. She made a face and stood up, securing it again. It was just as well there was no one around to see her, she thought, and time she got dressed again anyway.
    It was then that she heard it—the unmistakable slam of a car door near at hand, and footsteps somewhere below. She almost sagged with relief. Mike, she thought. At last.
    The terrace door was closed and she thought, ‘That’s odd because I left it open ...’ but it wasn’t really important. She flew along the passage and down the stairs, almost jumping the last few in her eagerness.
    She began teasingly, ‘And about time too...’ then stopped dead, words and movement halting in the same astonished second.
    She knew him at once. It was the stranger from Knossos, but looking very different from the sophisticated Western guise of the previous day. No expensive knitted casual shirt, or elegantly tailored cream pants today, but what looked like full Cretan dress from the soft leather knee boots to the dark red embroidered jacket, and the sash enfolding his waist. Only the black headscarf was missing. He’d left the thick dark hair which clustered, curling, close to his head, uncovered.
    For a dazed moment, Gemma thought she was still in the middle of that strange dream, then she felt the solid curve of the newel post under her hand, and knew that it was all only too real.
    She said, ‘What are you doing here?’ And what would she do, she asked herself, if he didn’t speak English?
    Only it seemed that he did.
    ‘Waiting for you,’ he said, adding with soft deliberation. ‘To awaken.’
    Helpless, humiliated colour flooded her face as she assimilated what he had said. He’d seen her on the terrace, asleep and half-naked, and he was letting her know it.
    ‘Why do you blush?’ came the cynical question, cutting across her embarrassed silence. ‘Your compatriots show as much of their bodies on our beaches every day.’
    ‘Perhaps, but I don’t,’ Gemma said tightly. ‘And what gives you the right to walk in here and spy on me?’
    ‘The right of ownership,’ he drawled. ‘This house belongs to me.’
    Gemma’s lips parted but no sound emerged. She stared at him, utterly appalled. ‘My God—then—there’s been the most terrible mistake. You see, I thought this was the Villa Ione ...’ She stopped abruptly, her forehead creasing. ‘But it must be—or how would there have been that note?’
    ‘It is the Villa Ione.’
    She stared at him, still frowning. ‘Then you must know Mike. Do you know where he is— when he’ll be back. He can explain everything ...’
    ‘That I would doubt.’ His voice was even, but there was an underlying coldness which worried her. ‘I do not know where this—Michalis is, but my information is that he left the island—several weeks ago.’
    ‘Left?’ Gemma repeated stupidly. ‘But that can’t be true. He’s here. He wrote me that note—two notes. I can