The Star King Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Susan Grant
struggled to distinguish between the astronauts and the Vash. When the differences sank in, they weren't in any way like those she had anticipated. In fact, she was a bit embarrassed. Dressed in ill-fitting, standard NASA-issue jumpsuits. Earth's astronauts looked like their hosts' poor country cousins. The Vash wore sumptuous, silver-trimmed indigo uniforms, and their bronzed amber skin and fair hair imparted an air of prosperity and robust health.
"Mom, they-look human," Ian said, his voice full of wonder.
Jas squinted past the congenial group in the foreground to a tall figure in the back, a Vash man dressed in casual clothing. He wore a loose shirt tucked in form-fitting pants, and knee-high boots that appeared broken-in, as if he actually worked in them, unlike the shiny boots of the others. His arms crossed over his chest, he was viewing the proceedings with a look of vague disdain and aristocratic boredom, as if he knew he could run the show better but chose not to interfere. He came across as arrogant as hell. Or maybe he was just confident—or possessed of some kind of inner strength.
She had to laugh at herself, at what she was thinking, but he was so damned good-looking that she couldn't pull her gaze away. He had great cheekbones, and a long, straight nose. His hair color was strange, though— nutmeg, yet not quite, and several shades darker than that of the blond Scandinavian types surrounding him. Amusement softened his countenance as one of the indigo-clad diplomats veered in his direction. Remarkable, but me closer the approaching Vash officer came to the tall man the less godlike he appeared, turning shorter, stockier, and coarser-featured in comparison. Judging by the uniformed man's ill-disguised intimidation, he too, sensed the other man's superiority. The Vash officer's spine was stiff when he spoke.
The space rebel cocked his head to listen. At the same time, he glanced directly into the camera with eyes as pale and brilliant as gold. Jas froze. The air whooshed out of her lungs. Her skin tingled and her pulse kicked into overdrive. She knew that man, those eyes. He was the man from her dream.
Impossible. She'd never been able to see his face. She leaned forward and took a closer look. At the very edges of her mind, memories teased her—memories that felt as if they belonged to someone else. She heard whispers, his whispers, his breath hot against her ear: I want to make love with you. Her entire body screamed. Yes, yes, yes, though she knew he hadn't actually spoken, and that she had never known his touch. A fact with which her heart vehemently disagreed. The group on-screen now resembled players in a game of musical chairs as the uniform-clad Vash and the astronauts took seats, leaving her spaceman with none. His warm gaze turned to ice. Shoulders squared, dignity intact, he turned on his heel and left. Gasping, she battled the ludicrous urge to find a way to follow.
"Mom? Yo, Mom!" Ian's voice came to her, as if from the other side of the ocean.
Inhale ... exhale ... inhale. She frantically massaged her temples.
"Did you zone out, or what? Are you okay?"
She dropped her hands. "Frankly, Ian, I'm not sure."
Clinging to wisps of magic, savoring the last shreds of desire, she tried in vain to recall the last time she'd felt this alive without a paintbrush in her hand.
* * *
"No! I will not allow it, B'kah!" Commander Lahdo slammed his sizable fist onto his desk, tipping an empty vase onto the environmental control console. The lights dimmed and hot air began blowing down from the vents. "Hell and back!"
Still in dress uniform from the meeting with the Earth delegation, Lahdo unbuttoned his collar with one hand, while his other danced with remarkable dexterity over the blinking lights on the panel, returning his quarters aboard the merchant ship Lucre to normal. "I repeat, you have broken our most holy covenant. You are in violation of the
"Mom, they-look human," Ian said, his voice full of wonder.
Jas squinted past the congenial group in the foreground to a tall figure in the back, a Vash man dressed in casual clothing. He wore a loose shirt tucked in form-fitting pants, and knee-high boots that appeared broken-in, as if he actually worked in them, unlike the shiny boots of the others. His arms crossed over his chest, he was viewing the proceedings with a look of vague disdain and aristocratic boredom, as if he knew he could run the show better but chose not to interfere. He came across as arrogant as hell. Or maybe he was just confident—or possessed of some kind of inner strength.
She had to laugh at herself, at what she was thinking, but he was so damned good-looking that she couldn't pull her gaze away. He had great cheekbones, and a long, straight nose. His hair color was strange, though— nutmeg, yet not quite, and several shades darker than that of the blond Scandinavian types surrounding him. Amusement softened his countenance as one of the indigo-clad diplomats veered in his direction. Remarkable, but me closer the approaching Vash officer came to the tall man the less godlike he appeared, turning shorter, stockier, and coarser-featured in comparison. Judging by the uniformed man's ill-disguised intimidation, he too, sensed the other man's superiority. The Vash officer's spine was stiff when he spoke.
The space rebel cocked his head to listen. At the same time, he glanced directly into the camera with eyes as pale and brilliant as gold. Jas froze. The air whooshed out of her lungs. Her skin tingled and her pulse kicked into overdrive. She knew that man, those eyes. He was the man from her dream.
Impossible. She'd never been able to see his face. She leaned forward and took a closer look. At the very edges of her mind, memories teased her—memories that felt as if they belonged to someone else. She heard whispers, his whispers, his breath hot against her ear: I want to make love with you. Her entire body screamed. Yes, yes, yes, though she knew he hadn't actually spoken, and that she had never known his touch. A fact with which her heart vehemently disagreed. The group on-screen now resembled players in a game of musical chairs as the uniform-clad Vash and the astronauts took seats, leaving her spaceman with none. His warm gaze turned to ice. Shoulders squared, dignity intact, he turned on his heel and left. Gasping, she battled the ludicrous urge to find a way to follow.
"Mom? Yo, Mom!" Ian's voice came to her, as if from the other side of the ocean.
Inhale ... exhale ... inhale. She frantically massaged her temples.
"Did you zone out, or what? Are you okay?"
She dropped her hands. "Frankly, Ian, I'm not sure."
Clinging to wisps of magic, savoring the last shreds of desire, she tried in vain to recall the last time she'd felt this alive without a paintbrush in her hand.
* * *
"No! I will not allow it, B'kah!" Commander Lahdo slammed his sizable fist onto his desk, tipping an empty vase onto the environmental control console. The lights dimmed and hot air began blowing down from the vents. "Hell and back!"
Still in dress uniform from the meeting with the Earth delegation, Lahdo unbuttoned his collar with one hand, while his other danced with remarkable dexterity over the blinking lights on the panel, returning his quarters aboard the merchant ship Lucre to normal. "I repeat, you have broken our most holy covenant. You are in violation of the
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