by Elsa Jade
“Luc Amaveo is a seeeeexy drakling from the Flamewalker Clan,” the announcer enthused. “You can light my fire any time, drakling darling! Luc works as prime auditor for Chrondrichor Transgalactic Accounting. When he’s not crunching numbers like the bones of his enemies, he enjoys sharpening his fangs and taking long, quiet walks in the desert of his homeworld.”
Those were lies. He did not crunch, sharpen, or take idle walks.
“Hello, Paragon Galaxy,” the vid of pre-recorded Luc said as he turned to face the camera. “I’m so…thrilled to be here. Well, not here-here, but in the Great Space Race.” His eyes shifted off center. “Can I try that again?”
At the plaintive note in the vid-Luc’s voice, real Luc winced. “No second chances in real life,” he muttered to himself.
Which was why he preferred being an accountant and not an astral adventurer being beamed across the universe. At work, he always had the opportunity to review his numbers, make sure everything was perfect, before he let anything out of his grasp. Now, gripping the unfamiliar controls of this new-to-him ship only reminded him how far away he was from his dat-system station at Chrondrichor. His coworkers had been so astounded that he’d been chosen to compete in the Great Space Race. They must be laughing and shaking their heads at his awkwardness. Probably with a few I-told-you-sos. He’d been named prime auditor over a thousand other Chrondrichor accountants, but no one had ever accused him of being adventurous.
Or sexy. He’d never lit anyone’s fire.
Even though he was a drakling, he couldn’t.
But he’d been assured that his lack of fire—both real and metaphorical—wasn’t a problem since his co-adventurer was apparently a famous interstellar explorer. He knew he’d been chosen as the drakling-out-of-fire comedic sidekick, but he didn’t care who laughed at him as long as he won the prize.
Jaw tightening, Luc slapped his palm over the comm, and a new face appeared on the screen. When he’d gotten the message from his assigned handler at Octiron Entertainment Company telling him he been chosen to compete in the Great Space Race, he’d been so resolute about proving himself that he hadn’t really paid attention to the three squinty eyes and twitchy tentacles. Everyone knew that Ajellomenes were subject to random electrical discharges when not immersed in their native sulfate salt waters, so he wasn’t going to be a bigot and judge the Ajellomene on his twitching and squinting. Besides, his own discomfort was probably just another symptom of his reticence with everyone. How he longed for his quiet desk back at CTA headquarters.
But not until he won the Great Space Race.
“Rickster,” he said by way of greeting, which was the closest most land living beings could pronounce the Ajellomenes’ language out of water. “My partner still hasn’t arrived. Is everything—?”
“Everything’s fabulous, Luc baby,” Rickster said in a voice even more slippery than his tentacles. “She’s coming from a long way away. But the trans-dimensional transference has been initiated. You should expect her soon.”
Luc gave a brusque nod. “I appreciate you giving me this chance, and having faith in me.” He forced out a gritted-teeth smile. “We’ll do our best to deliver the ratings you need.” Rickster was an Octiron assistant producer for the Great Space Race, which was more glamorous than accounting, but Luc understood the requirement to show good numbers.
Rickster returned the nod. “I was told you’re one of the best auditors in the galaxy.” He didn’t have a smile or teeth, but his tentacles writhed with enthusiasm. “If anyone can solve the mathematical riddle of the Firestorm Queen’s Prism, it’s you.”
Luc knew the riddle of the prism was just a symbol for his team’s challenge. The legendary three-gem diadem didn’t actually exist. It was just an old story for young draklings. But still, the little burst of excitement that zinged through him at the thought of the mystery and riches of the imaginary Firestorm Queen and her prismatic crown made him feel about three solar revolutions old.
He scowled. His childhood hadn’t been so wonderful that he had any interest in going back.
He realized Rickster was talking again and snapped his attention back to the producer. “It won’t be easy,” Rickster cautioned. “The diadem has been lost for millennia. Racers have crisscrossed the Paragon Galaxy and never found a sign of it.”
Luc resisted the urge to snort. Since the diadem didn’t really exist, finding a sign would indeed be difficult. But he supposed the producer was just getting good footage.
“Whatever the risks,” he intoned with as much drama as the voiceover had used, “my partner and I will face them all, including dismemberment, death, and even, uh, dishonor.”
The Ajellomene’s tentacles flapped, whether in alarm or amusement Luc couldn’t quite tell. “Never mind those. Not finding the diadem would be the worst disaster.”
Luc nodded, in full agreement this time. The shame of returning to the drakling homeworld for his brothers’ mating ceremonies without a treasure in his hand would be more than he could stomach.
“Let’s not talk about the risks,” Rickster said with a wave of one tentacle. “I got you a great ship, Luc baby, a great partner, and the greatest challenge in Great Space Race history.”
That was a lot of greats in one sentence, Luc thought grimly. He never dealt with superlatives in his work, facts only. But he could learn how to do show business and drama if that was needed to win the prize.
And face his brothers one last time.
“Not everyone believes in you like I do,” Rickster warned him. “The producers said draklings are too impulsive and temperamental.”
They weren’t wrong. “Not a problem for me, I assure you,” Luc said with a twist of his mouth.
One of Rickster’s eyes closed while the other two stared in opposite directions. “This is our big break,” he said, a touch of ominousness in his voice. Although that might just have been the warble of his deep-sea heritage. “Don’t larf it up.”
The Ajellomene disappeared as the screen went dark except for the Great Space Race logo, and Luc settled back in the pilot’s chair. A bitterness burned in the back of his throat like the taste of the exotic coffee beverage that had taken the galaxy by storm—and which he’d tried once, much to his mortification. If he’d consulted his actuarial colleagues, he had no doubt they would’ve given him the odds that he would indeed larf this up. But as Rickster had pointed out, this was their one chance, and his only choice.
He just hoped his adventure partner would be able to make up for everything he lacked.
Chapter 2
Consciousness returned to Amy in reverse of the way it had left her: the darkness numbing her was shot through with silver stars, then a column of blinding gold light surrounded her, then her whole body tingled, and with a gasp, she woke.
She gasped again and choked at an unfamiliar scent, like burning cedar and incense. Oh no, had one of Sunset Falls wandering hippies dosed her with more illicit fun than her body could handle?
She groaned and rolled to her side, one hand over her eyes, the other braced beside her. The smooth coolness of the floor under her palm calmed her little. If she had to puke from the spins, at least she was in the bathroom.
“Relax,” came a rumbling voice. “The trans-dimensional transference plays havoc with most biological systems. You’ll right yourself in a moment.”
Ugh. She’d forgotten why she stayed away from hippie types. Trans-dimensional transference? Right. She didn’t need any out-of-body experiences, not when she had to work so hard to keep body and soul together in the first place. She opened her eyes and peered between the gap in her spread fingers.
She wasn’t in the bathroom of her rented apartment. She wasn’t in any bathroom.
Her gaze wandered over the strange, sleek lines of the place she found herself. Blinking lights shined across a dashboard, and out the front window there appeared to be more of the glittering stars that seemed to be still swirling around her head.
She must�
��ve been given some really good shit. Because if anybody had asked her, she would’ve sworn she was on a spaceship…
Her drifting gaze locked on the guy who had spoken.
Aaaaand the guy was an alien.
She gargled out a laugh and tried to slam her fingers closed over the wacky view. She’d known Sunset Falls was odd. Well, great, now she finally fit in somewhere. Because she thought she was on a spaceship. With an alien.
Unfortunately, due to her missing finger, the gap didn’t entirely close so she was left staring at the guy.
The man was even more odd than anything she’d seen in Sunset Falls. He was tall, topping her by at least a foot, if she’d been standing. And his strange clothes reminded her a bit of the beautiful woman in the thrift shop: satiny textured like good leather, fitted to his leanly muscled shape. And those muscles were on blatant display in the close cut of the vest that left his arms bare. His dark skin was more unusual in Sunset Falls then her mono-lidded eyes, even without the purple overtones.
The deep, rich purple lightened to amethyst in a scalloped pattern that mostly resembled…scales. Fish scales, snake scales. Dragon scales, actually, like the ones on the homemade fireworks charms her ye-ye used to send her—against all US Postal Service rules—from China.
How had she ended up in some weird cosplay or theatrical production? She raked her fingers up into her hair—at least the short strands weren’t prickling with static electricity anymore—before grinding both palms over her closed eyes. The scars on her left hand abrading her eyelid were more effective than any “pinch me” plea.
She cracked open her left eye and peered through the gap of her missing ring finger.
Dragon-boy was still there.
She slapped her hands down on the floor and looked at the guy again. “Is this some sort of joke?”
He frowned at her. Against the rich hue of his skin, his eyes were a startling jade green. And the pupils at their center were cat’s-eye slits, not round. Those were very convincing colored contacts, even more convincing than the spaceship setting. This would be a great joke. On someone else.
“Have you not gone through a trans-dimensional transference before?” He tilted his head. His black hair was longer than hers but coarser and twisted tight, so the coils bristled with his movement, like there was infinite energy stored in the wound strands. “I thought you were a famous interstellar explorer.”
She frowned back at him. “I smoked pot one time,” she said defensively, holding up her forefinger. “I hardly think that qualifies me as an interstellar explorer.” Only when his frown deepened did she notice she’d gestured with her maimed left hand. Flushing, she tucked it down into her lap. She hated when people stared at the hole where her ring finger had been.
And then she noticed something else.
She was naked.
With a wheeze, she jackknifed upright, pulling her knees close and wrapping her arms around herself. If her arms had been long enough, she’d have wrapped them three or four times around. “Where are my clothes?” she demanded. “You creep! What did you do?!”
He squinted, his eyes almost closed, although she couldn’t tell if he was trying to give her some privacy or if he was just confused. “Nothing else comes through the trans-dimensional transference, other than you,” he said, as if that was obvious. “I have your assigned gear here on the ship. Let me go get—”
“Ship?” she echoed. A chill swept over her skin. Not just from being naked on the cold metal floor. “What ship?”
He took a step back, as if he too was just coming to the realization that something was off. “The Blissed. The ship we were assigned by the Octiron Corp for the Great Space Race,” he said in a tight tone. “You’re my teammate. Team Prism. We even have a logo. On your clothes. Which I should go get now.” Through his narrowed stare, he skimmed her nudity.
Teammates? She shrank back until her spine pressed against the bulkhead behind her. Oh no, the only thing she’d been worse at in school than science, math, and music was sports. And…guys. A low, subliminal hum rippled through her bones as she cringed into the wall. This ship, whatever it was, was moving. She’d heard of being shanghaied—she was Chinese, after all—but that didn’t happen anymore, did it?
“I’m not supposed to be here.” An edge of panic sharpened her words. “I don’t know how I got here but—”
“The trans-dimensional transference—”
“Stop saying that!” She didn’t even try to moderate the shrill edge to her tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you…you…” What character was he supposed to be?
He sagged against the wall opposite her. Somehow, despite his strangely scaled skin and even stranger eyes, the look of shock and dawning awareness on his angular face reassured her more than anything he might say.
“There was a black box,” he said slowly. “At least there was when they transported me.”
She stiffened, her protective arms sagging a little. “Yeah, a light came out of the box. Then there were stars. So many stars…”
He nodded. “That’s how Octiron brought us to the Paragon Galaxy. But the crossing can be rough. It feels like a dream.” His jaw shifted to one side, as if he was biting off his own fantasies. “Maybe you just forgot…”
This was not any dream she’d ever had. “I really don’t think I’d forget that I was a—what did you call me?—a famous interstellar explorer.” Her head was swimming not just with stars but with all the unfamiliar words. Octiron? Paragon? Just when she thought she’d mastered the English language… “There’s been a mistake. Obviously.” Ugh, considering she was nekkid, everything was obvious right now. She squeezed her bare thighs together and pressed her breasts into her uplifted knees, trying to dig her feet into her butt to keep anything from showing. “I’m not into this whole space-stripper thing.”
“It’s too late for this to be a mistake,” he said. “The race has already begun, and we’re behind because you’re late.” He stared her down. “Why are you late?”
She glared back at him. “I can’t be late when I never agreed to be here at all.”
He sagged even further down the wall, as if she had cut his knees out from underneath him. He closed those jade green eyes, his face going still and stark. “Are you saying I have to do this on my own?” His voice faded at the end.
She cringed, knowing she was letting this guy down. As if she hadn’t disappointed enough people in her life.
“I didn’t ask for this.” She softened her voice to ensure he understood and gave a brisk nod that felt a lot stronger and more decisive than she was inside. “Okay then. I’ll just…” She glanced around. “My clothes?”
He pushed away from the wall, his gaze averted from her. Which she appreciated. He didn’t even take a little peek. She knew because she watched him, watched him very, very closely because it wasn’t every day that she was asked to be teammates with a tall, muscly, sexy dude. The woman in leather would totally take this guy on.
But that wasn’t her.
He edged past her—the odd trousers clinging to his ass, which she knew because she was watching him very, very closely to make sure he didn’t peek—and disappeared down the short corridor.
With him gone, she glanced around, looking for the way out. Though he seemed nice enough, even if he was purple, she wasn’t taking any chances.
But as she looked for the exit sign, she got distracted by the “ship”. In high school, she’d worried that her accent was too thick to audition for school plays, so she worked on the set crew instead, and she knew enough to be impressed with the stagecraft of this cosplay. On the forward screen of the cockpit, an elaborate starfield swirled like something from a sci-fi movie. Personally, she preferred movies with fewer explosions, but to each his or her own. She supposed it wasn’t much of a role-playing adventure if there wasn’t some pretend danger.
Maybe it would’ve been fun to play along with this guy… Too bad she had to get back to the shop and
return the box to Mr. Evens so he didn’t fire her.
The other half of would’ve-been Team Prism returned with an armful of fabric which he thrust at her wordlessly, his gaze fixed studiously somewhere over his left shoulder. He was being very polite, not like a regular guy at all. Maybe her scars made him not want to look. She didn’t blame him.
Her chest ached, not where the ugly scars were, but deeper, and she let her hair swing forward in a black curtain.
She plucked the fabric from his hands with a tart, “Thank you.” One touch—while she kept her gaze fixed on his face to watch for any peeking—told her these clothes weren’t like anything she’d ever dreamed of. They were more like his or the woman’s back at the shop, even more lavish than leather. Definitely not like her own secondhand clothes. And he thought these were right for her?
“Where are my things?” She clutched the layers to her chest, tucking her maimed hand in the folds.
He hazarded a glance at her, then away again. “I told you, you left everything behind during the—”
“Trans-dimensional transference, right,” she finished. “Okay, fine. These are…really nice.” She’d consider it payment for this awkward, unauthorized attempt to include her in this wacky game.
And maybe tomorrow, when she folded them away in the pressboard dresser in her rented apartment room, she’d touch the strange material and imagine what might have been.
She glanced toward him and swallowed. With all the guys she’d been with—fewer of them than she had fingers on her one hand—she’d always found an excuse to keep her shirt on and the lights off. He was the first guy to see her nude—assuming he could actually see through those wacky colored contacts. At the vulnerability, her skin prickled worse than when she’d grabbed that weird box.