Warrior Prince

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “These are cousins on my father’s side. Since he walked out on us when I was eight years old, I never knew much about his family. I was quite surprised when they showed up.” Glaring at Zohar, she waited for him to contradict her. He grinned back, a gleam of approval in his eyes.

  “My word, you must be thrilled. Come inside and have some lemonade and cake.” Grace surveyed their attire. “No doubt you’ll want to lose those costumes. Your awesome guns add a nice touch, but they might frighten someone. Great choice of props, boys. I hadn’t realized a sci-fi convention was in town.”

  “This is Zohar,” Nira supplied when he appeared at a loss for words. “Guys, meet Grace. She’s a dear family friend.”

  “Where will you be staying? I know some budget hotels if you need a place.” Grace’s face lit up as it always did when she offered advice.

  A hunk with golden blond hair and a youthful face had been speaking softly into his cell phone, or at least a device that looked like one. Switching it off, he regarded his leader. “Rayne has secured accommodations for us at a local hostelry.”

  “Oh, that’s good. I suppose you’ll want to visit all the popular theme parks while you’re here,” Grace rambled on as the sun broiled Nira’s scalp.

  “What is a theme park?” Zohar cocked his head. “Our objective is Drift World.”

  Grace wagged a finger. “Personally, sonny, I don’t see the attraction in adults role-playing their fantasy jobs. Get a real one, that’s my opinion.”

  “Grace, it’s too warm out here. I’m going in the house.” Snatching her keys from the carjacker, Nira used the remote to lock her vehicle. Then she wheeled toward the front door, advancing only a few steps before she hesitated. These men seemed friendly, but was it wise to invite them inside?

  She turned to Zohar. “Thanks for the escort home. However, please don’t feel you have to hang around on my account,” she told him with a hopeful lilt.

  “We still need to talk.” A determined look on his face, Zohar gestured toward the house.

  Her stomach sank. She wasn’t going to get rid of him so easily. Maybe she could figure out a way to ditch these guys after cooling off inside.

  Their leader accompanied her forward, his boots pounding on the hot pavement. The others crowded behind as she resignedly led the way.

  Inside the foyer, Nira tossed her purse on a side table. As soon as Grace was out of earshot in the kitchen, she lowered her voice. “Okay, who are you and what do you want? And where are you from? You talk like foreigners.”

  “Our home is called Karrell.” Zohar’s eyes smoldered as he regarded her, his height and powerful shoulders making her feel small and feminine.

  “Never heard of it. Must be a tiny country.” She swept her gaze over their belted tunics, side arms, and tailored trousers. “You could pass for invaders from outer space. Are you sure you’re not here for a convention? Because who else would dress like that, unless you’re with a SWAT team?”

  “We are here to save your world, not invade it. What is this phrase, swat team?”

  “I will research it, rageesh.” The man with a stubbled jaw, unkempt hair, and killer dimples could have been a double for Josh Holloway on Lost. Nira stared at him, wondering if this were some sort of reality show with hidden cameras.

  “I told you not to call me that, Paz.”

  “My apologies.” Paz bowed his head, making Nira wonder about his relationship to Zohar.

  “So what did you want to tell me?” she asked.

  His gaze darkened. “We have much to discuss, but not a lot of time. It is unwise to linger.”

  His somber expression didn’t sway her. “Feel free to go and take your friends along with you. Your problems aren’t mine, although I do want to thank you for rescuing me from those nutcases in that employment office.” Her forehead scrunched. “Just how did that place vanish, anyway? It was some sort of optical illusion, right?”

  “In a way. Look, you fail to understand the danger. We cannot leave you alone.”

  “I’m home, and that’s all that matters.”

  He shook his head. “Not so. The Trolleks will come after you. They will follow your scent.”

  “What scent?” She sniffed the air. “Are you telling me I stink? I may have been running around in the heat, but—”

  A grin transformed his face. “You misinterpret, little one. Your skin is fragrant, like purpura blossoms. It is a most pleasant scent and highly alluring.”

  Her cheeks flushed as she latched onto his other remark. “Trolleks? Who are they? And what did you mean when you mentioned credits outside?”

  He raised an imperious eyebrow. “I wish to offer you a position as our local guide.”

  She gazed at him askance. Whoever these guys were, there wasn’t any doubt in her mind that they needed help. Should she accept?

  With her track record, it was likely to be the only decent job offer in her future. Her temples throbbed while she debated her response.

  Right now, when she could finally search for her birth parents, she didn’t want any roadblocks getting in the way. Was it worth tagging along with Zohar and his gang to earn the cash she needed for her research?

  Maybe they were tourists from a backwater country, but that didn’t explain their raid on the log hut or their assault gear. Something more important was at stake here. Hooking up with them, even as their hired guide, could only spell trouble.

  “Sorry.” She stood tall, giving Zohar a level glance. “Tempting as your offer is, I have to decline.”

  “Wrong answer.” Zohar’s jaw tightened as he reached for her.

  Chapter Two

  “Leave now, before Grace returns.” Her eyes blazing with defiance, Nira stepped away from Zohar.

  Cursing inwardly, Zohar let his arm fall. He’d failed to convince the Earth woman to accompany his band of men. Now he’d have to force her to join them, an action that would not gain her cooperation.

  His gaze shifted to her flame red hair, fluffed on her head as if she’d just come from a windstorm on the Plains of Hyalith. He’d never get used to short hair on a woman. It seemed a sacrilege to their gender, but then, who was he to comment on another culture when he rejected his own?

  Her hair framed a perfectly shaped face with dewy brown eyes, a proud nose, and an impertinent mouth. From the determined jut of her jaw, he could tell she’d stand her ground, which would make his task even more difficult.

  By the faith, just being near her made it hard to think when a part of his anatomy went hard as well. It couldn’t be merely her scent, however strong. Her magnetism drew him, almost as though she exhibited Trollek power.

  Impossible. Trolleks were the reason he and his men were here.

  He could still remember his shock when the alarm had sounded on his homeworld. A dimensional rift had cracked open on Earth, a protected planet whose inhabitants hadn’t yet joined the Star Empire. This event didn’t coincide with the natural cycle, when the friction between dimensional plates caused the portal to widen. Nor did the rift shut down as it should after a buildup of cors particles at the event horizon.

  As leader of the Drift Lords, Zohar had summoned his troops. It could mean only one thing: the Trolleks planned to invade Earth and enslave the populace. His team’s task was to seal the rift and stabilize the space-time continuum.

  He’d gotten a brief reading targeting the cors emissions to the area known as the Bermuda Triangle. Then the Trolleks had activated a jamming device, but not before he’d scored a blip at a place in Central Florida called Drift World. This woman served as their best lead to locating the beasts’ main portal.

  His attention diverted when the older lady returned holding a large brown dish from which emanated a mouth-watering aroma. He moistened his lips, aware they couldn’t afford delays, not even to obtain sustenance. Nira had to leave with them now.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce the rest of your relatives?” Grace set the platter on a polished wood dining table. />
  “Only if Nira packs her bag.” Zohar scowled at the redhead to induce compliance. “She has accepted our offer to act as tour guide. We need her to accompany us.”

  “You can’t go without tasting my cake,” Grace insisted. “Sit down, sonny. Nira can throw her things together after you eat a snack. Boys are always hungry, aren’t they? Wait here, I’ll get some lemonade.” She scurried toward the kitchen.

  “Have a seat,” Nira said with a smirk. “Resistance is futile where Grace is concerned.”

  Grace returned minutes later carrying a pitcher and a stack of plastic cups. Unable to think of a way to budge Nira without tossing her over his shoulder, Zohar sank into a chair. He might as well introduce his team members.

  “That is Paz.” Zohar pointed to his friend across the table. Paz flashed Nira a dimpled grin.

  “He can be a bit headstrong, but the ladies love him. And this is Dal.” Zohar nodded at the silent, gaunt man. “Dal looks forbidding, but inside he hides a heart of gold. Borius over there possesses a temper, but he also has a reason.” The others laughed, while the young man flushed to the roots of his golden hair.

  “Kaj lets you think he cares more about his engines than people, but that is untrue.” Zohar jerked a thumb toward his tense-faced engineer. “And finally, Yaron writes songs when he is not busy fighting.” Zohar indicated the bearded man with dark eyes.

  “I’m not leaving with you, so don’t get too comfortable.” Nira snatched a filled cup from Grace and gulped down the pink liquid.

  Zohar cocked his head. “May I have a word with you in private?” He had to convince her to go docily and not make a scene. Besides, she’d promised to listen if he took her home. He didn’t care to be disobeyed in front of his men.

  She licked a stray droplet off her lush mouth. “I’m going to use the bathroom and then change into something more comfortable. You can say your piece when I get back.”

  “She is bathing now?” Yaron shot a puzzled glance at Zohar.

  Nira gave him a withering look. “You’re kidding, right?” She plunked her cup down. “You can tell they don’t get out much,” she told Grace. “Too much team spirit, if you ask me.”

  “No way. You mean…these good looking men don’t like girls?” Grace’s eyebrows soared sky high.

  Borius drew his dagger. “We are warriors, Drift Lords and Defenders of Earth. Do you dare to challenge our manhood?”

  Leave it to the virgin among them to take offense. Zohar’s lips curved in amusement. “Stand down, Borius,” he ordered in a quiet but firm voice. “Nira, pack your belongings at once, or you will forfeit the chance. You will come with us. I shall explain when we reach safe quarters.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Safe? You mean from those Trolleks you mentioned? I thought you said they could track my scent.”

  “We have ways of shielding you, but we must leave this house. It emits your essence too strongly. Every minute we remain increases the risk of detection.”

  It wouldn’t be long now. The hackles rose on the back of his neck. He sniffed, searching for the chemical marker that preceded a Trollek’s vector shift.

  Nira swept from the room, leaving him and his mates alone with the chatty old lady. He accepted a piece of cake, chewing absentmindedly. Might as well gain energy before the next battle. Once finished, he scraped to his feet. What was taking Nira so long?

  He’d just decided to go after her when he heard a terrified shriek from another part of the house. His nostrils inhaled the smell of burnt filaments.

  Pulling his Monix T-6 laser pistol, he fired at the Trolleks vectoring into sight. One of them flung himself onto Zohar’s back, hooking an arm around his neck. Zohar stiffened. The Trollek meant to confound him through his touch. That shouldn’t work since Zohar had polarized himself against their spell.

  With his head forced back, he barely saw the dagger aimed in his direction, hurtled through the air by another beast. Their speed and ability to shift themselves along with inanimate objects gave them an advantage, but he’d been trained to fight their kind. Swirling, Zohar deflected the knife. It caught the Trollek clinging to him instead. With a howl, the creature slid to the ground, the blade imbedded in his spine.

  “Get your hands off me, sonny,” Grace shouted from somewhere behind. Spinning around, Zohar caught a brief shimmer of light and then emptiness. Oh no, Grace has been taken.

  A surprise bolt of energy ripped the phase gun from his hand. What the—

  He glanced up, stunned to see a disruptor in one beast’s grip. Since when did Trolleks carry Class One armaments? No matter, he had a few tricks of his own.

  With a flying kick, Zohar knocked the weapon from his opponent’s grip. He didn’t have time to catch his breath. Another brute leapt in front of him, teeth bared, muscles bulging. The fellow’s eyes narrowed as they sized each other up, circling like prizefighters. He heard the grunts of his mates and Nira’s screams echoing down the hallway.

  Dodging a blow aimed at his head, he ducked and rammed the beast in the stomach. It felt like a wall. His ears rang.

  The Trollek laughed, grasping him under his arms and lifting him off his feet. Thick fingers squeezed into his flesh, causing him to clamp his lips against the pain. He kicked his legs but couldn’t reach a target.

  Fury raced through his veins. He should be enjoying the clear mountain air on Karrell and strolling through the pine-scented woods on his royal estate instead of battling his old enemy. It wasn’t the first time they had stolen across the dimensional boundary, but by the great Wise One, it would be their last.

  Ignoring the pinching agony in his armpits, Zohar raised his hands. He pressed his thumbs into the beast’s eyes—rage giving him strength. The eyeballs felt like gel-filled globes, but he pushed until he hit solid bone.

  Release came instantaneously. The Trollek let go with a yowl and vanished in a flash of light.

  Back on his feet, Zohar wrinkled his nose. He’d never get used to the odor of burning circuitry that accompanied the beasts’ spatial shifts. Being able to sniff cors particles made him a Drift Lord, so he should be grateful. Not only did it enable him to anticipate their imminent arrival or departure, but it also gave him an edge in sensing when a rift opened.

  A loud crash resounded, making him glance at his crew. They were holding their own. So far, Grace had been the only one captured. He cursed inwardly, realizing he couldn’t hear Nira anymore either. Could she have succumbed to the Trollek spell? He raced through the house, skidding to a halt when he saw her wrestling with a brute by an open doorway.

  Thank the stars. If she hadn’t vanished, that meant she resisted confounding again, since only spellbound victims could be taken. The enemy must want her because she was different. And if they couldn’t take her, they’d have one alternative.

  The Trollek released her and winked from sight. Grabbing her by the wrist, Zohar lurched toward the front door.

  In the dining hall, chairs and china flew through the air where the battle still raged. Trolleks howled and snorted as they fought. Then acting in unison, they glanced at each other, bared their teeth in feral grins, and vanished.

  “Lava bomb. Evacuate,” Zohar yelled to his companions. “Move out, now!”

  Nira tugged on his arm. “Wait, my purse.”

  The foolish woman dragged him sideways where she grabbed her bag from its perch on a foyer table. His heart racing, Zohar shoved her outside and flung her onto the grass. Shouts sounded from behind as his friends followed suit.

  “Grace,” Nira cried, her voice hoarse. “Where’s Grace?” She rolled onto her back, facing him.

  “You can’t help her. Take cover!” Zohar dropped on top of Nira just as a deafening blast ripped the air followed by a concussive wave.

  He’d covered Nira’s body with his own, pressing them both to the ground, but he still felt the jolt through to his bones. His teeth rattled and his head reeled. Debris rained upon them, making him thankful for his lightweight armor.
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  As he waited for his heartbeat to slow, he became aware of the points of contact between them. Nira wriggled, no doubt attempting to free herself, and the movement only increased his awareness of her softness beneath him. By the moons of Aguilar, she smelled divine. An incredible urge to nuzzle her neck made his senses swim.

  “Are you all right?” His assessing glance swept her pale face.

  “I’m fine. Get off me.”

  He leveraged to his feet and offered a hand to assist her. She stood on her own, brushing dirt from her rumpled clothing─a pair of cropped tan pants and a teal top. Then her gaze lifted, and her mouth dropped open.

  “Oh…my…God.” She stared at the smoldering ruins of her home. “Grace…”

  “Is still alive. I saw her get taken by a Trollek before the explosion.” Zohar surveyed his men. All were present and accounted for, albeit with minor scratches and soiled uniforms. Sirens wailed from down the street. Neighbors erupted from their homes.

  “I-I should talk to the police. They’ll want to know what happened.” Nira scrubbed a shaky hand over her face. “They can help me search for Grace.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?” He gave her a sharp look.

  From her dazed expression, Zohar surmised she could barely deal with the destruction of her house, let alone the loss of her friend. Nor did she truly understand what it meant to be confounded. He sighed, aware explanations were overdue.

  “We must not linger. The Trolleks may believe you are dead, but they will not be fooled for long. Soon they will pick up your trail again.” He took her by the elbow and gently tugged, not wishing to traumatize her further.

  “I can’t leave. I’ll need to explain…”

  “About what, the Trolleks? No one would believe you. We will think of a plausible excuse later. People are noticing us. Let us go, now.” He couldn’t risk his team being detained.

  Nira slouched in the front passenger seat of the van beside him while he took the wheel. His men piled into the back rows. They sped down the street past the oncoming emergency vehicles.