Gemini Rising: Paris Burning

by Eve Vaughn

  Gemini Rising: Paris Burning

  Eve Vaughn

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Eve Vaughn

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file copying or sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. Willful violation of this policy will result in suspension of account privileges and will lead to prosecution.

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  ISBN (10) 1-59596-431-2

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-431-1

  Formats Available:

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  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

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  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Crystal Esau

  Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  “Girl, your legs must be tired, because you’ve been running through my mind all day.” The corny remark was followed by a lewd whistle as the would be Casanova eyed Paris as if she were a piece of prime cut meat.

  She rolled her eyes heavenward, biting back the retort on the tip of her tongue. Why had she let her co-workers talk her into coming to happy hour with them? She should have hit the gym, then taken a long hot bath and afterwards, curled up with a good mystery novel.

  It certainly would have been much better than sitting in a smoky bar with drunken colleagues she normally didn’t hang out with outside of the office. And getting hit on by guys who got their pick up lines off the Internet wasn’t exactly her cup of tea either.

  “Hey, baby, are you deaf? I’m talking to you.”

  Paris took a sip of her cola. Hell, she didn’t even drink. What was she doing here?

  When her unwanted suitor grasped her shoulder, she finally acknowledged his presence. “You’re touching me, which I didn’t give you permission to do, so either leave me alone as I’ve given you no indication your advances are welcome, or you’ll be pulling back a bloody stump. The choice is yours, buddy.”

  A snarl crossed the man’s nondescript face, his hazel eyes narrowing with hostility. He yanked his hand away as though he’d been burned. “Are you a lesbo or something?”

  “No. I’m just someone with taste.”

  “Frigid bitch,” he muttered before storming off.

  Asshole.

  Why did men assume a woman was a lesbian because they were rejected? They were all a bunch of immature babies.

  “Smooth move, Paris. That’s the third guy you’ve shot down in less than an hour. That last guy was kinda cute.” Carol from the finance department took the empty barstool next to hers. She’d been the one to invite Paris to happy hour.

  Paris shrugged. “Was he? I didn’t notice.” She took another healthy swig of her soda and then glanced at her watch. Maybe if she left in a few minutes, she could make it home in time to catch the rest of the documentary series on space she’d been watching over the past few weeks.

  “I take it you’re not having fun here tonight.” Carol flipped a lock of her long brown hair over her shoulder.

  “This isn’t really my scene, but I appreciate you inviting me here. I don’t want to take you away from the others. You don’t have to keep me company. I needed to get away from the smoke in that corner everyone was sitting in. I don’t mean to be a spoilsport. Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not really in the mood to hear another fart joke right now. Is anything else the matter? You’ve been looking kind of down lately. Actually, I’m surprised you agreed to come out with us tonight.”

  A faint smile touched Paris’s lips. She’d been thinking the same thing. “Maybe I’m just trying to break up the monotony in my life. It seems like all I’ve done lately is go to work, go to the gym, and then go home. It’s been months since I’ve even dated.”

  Carol snorted. “I find that hard to believe. All the guys in the office practically fall over their feet when you’re around.”

  “And I also know most of them call me the ice princess behind my back. I’m no fool. They’re interested in me because I’m a challenge to them: typical male response.” Paris sighed before taking another sip of her drink.

  “Careful, Paris, you’re going to get a man-hater reputation if you keep talking like that.”

  “Maybe that wouldn’t be as bad then. Perhaps then, I’ll be left alone. Look, I think I’m going to head out now.”

  “Already? You’ve only been here for an hour, not even that really.”

  A faint smile touched Paris’s lips. Carol was a nice lady. Under different circumstances they probably could have been great friends instead of acquaintances on very good terms. Paris blamed herself. It was hard to open up to people when she’d learned long ago the only person she could count on was herself. Everyone she’d ever cared about -- she’d lost. “I think I’ve had enough of being a killjoy for one night, but thanks again. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  Carol frowned. “Okay, hon. If that’s what you want, but you’ll be missed.”

  Paris lifted a brow. “I seriously doubt that, but it’s nice of you to say so.”

  “Be safe.” Carol gave her a hug before going to join the rowdy group on the other side of the bar.

  Paris sighed, throwing a ten-dollar bill on the bar and grabbing her purse.

  The subway ride home for once was peaceful. It was after rush hours, and she was able to get a seat for the duration of the ride. It was a cool summer night, and the three blocks Paris walked from the subway station to her upper Manhattan apartment was pleasant. Once inside, she happily kicked off her high heels.

  Her tiny efficiency was only four hundred and fifty square feet, but in this neighborhood, it cost the earth. Still, it had a great view of the city, and it was her very own corner of the world. It was the first place she’d had all to herself. Nearly every inch of space was covered with furniture and knickknacks, making the place seem smaller, but she loved it.

  Paris grabbed a bag of cheese curls and flipped on the television before flopping down on her daybed. The documentary about the discovery of new planets was in its final minutes. She cursed herself for forgetting to record it. Lately, she’d been fascinated with all things space and she didn’t have the faintest clue why. It was a plausible theory that man wasn’t the only intelligent life form in the entire universe. It was an arrogant assumption that Earth was the only planet in the entire universe with functioning societies.

  Once her program was over, she trudged to the bathroom to begin her nightly ritual of brushing her teeth and showering.

  Totally boring.

  When had her life become so lame? “Paris,” she spoke to her reflection in the mirror. “What you need in your life is a little excitement.” She studied her image. Large, slightly tilted dark brown eyes stared back at her in a medium brown face. Paris tucked a strand of her chin length black bob behind her ear. Her lips were large and bow shaped, and nose top-tilted. She hit the gym three times a week to maintain her hourglass figure.

  If there was one thing she could change about herself it would be her height. Five-foot-four wasn’t tiny, but the short jokes she could have done without. Overall, Paris supposed she was an attractive woman, but not so much as to receive a
ll the attention she did at the bar tonight.

  What was it with men? Did some kind of sensor go off in their heads when they knew a woman wasn’t interested? Why did they assume a woman couldn’t get by without them in their lives? It wasn’t that she disliked men. That wasn’t the case at all, but she’d yet to find one who excited her enough to take a chance on.

  The ones she had dated fell into four categories: mama’s boys, conceited jerks, or men who only wanted to get in her pants. And her least favorite kind -- the whiney, PC, tree-hugging liberal metrosexuals who spent more time in the beauty salons than women did. What the hell? Paris had no problem with men who weren’t afraid to express their emotions and show a sensitive side, but there was a fine line between a man in touch with his feelings and a straight up wuss. If she saw another man with manicured nails and professionally arched eyebrows, she’d scream.

  Maybe the problem lay with her. Perhaps she was too picky, but was it so wrong to have standards? “You’re going to be an old lady by yourself,” she said to her reflection. It was just as well. She’d been alone most of her life. Why should the rest of it be any different?

  Twenty years ago, at the age of two, her life was irrevocably changed when her mother and sister went missing. Some would think she wouldn’t have such clear memories from such an early age, but she did.

  Paris recalled the night her mother had taken her sister London to the doctor. She’d wanted to go, crying when she didn’t get her way. Paris had been left with the babysitter. When they never returned, she was shattered. She’d stayed with the babysitter for some months, for how long she couldn’t remember exactly, until she was placed in a home for orphans. That part of her life went by in a blur. Some of the people in the foster homes she’d lived in were nice, some not so much, but they all had one thing in common: eventually she was separated from them.

  Because of that, she’d built a protective shell around her heart. Not a day went by when she didn’t think about her mother and sister. When she was old enough to research their disappearance, Paris had learned the authorities had found her mother’s car turned over at the side of the road, but no bodies. Police suspected foul play. In her heart, she didn’t want to believe they were dead, but all evidence pointed to that theory.

  It wrenched at her gut to think about them and how different life would have been with them. Would she be so closed to others, mistrustful and cynical? She’d give anything to be the carefree person a woman her age should be. After all, she had a decent job as an underwriter for a large insurance company, her own place and enough money in her savings account to treat herself with luxuries every now and then.

  Turning away from the mirror, she undressed and stepped into the shower.

  Yep, she definitely needed some excitement in her life.

  * * *

  “Paris! I thought you said you were heading back to your place. What are you doing back here and how did you change outfits so quickly?”

  London turned around to see a tall dark-haired woman approach. She gave her boyfriend Matt a questioning look. “She thinks I’m Paris. Could this mean…”

  Hazel eyes twinkled from behind wire-rimmed glasses. “I think so.”

  London turned back to the woman with a smile. “I’m not Paris, but I’m looking for her.”

  The woman frowned. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re Paris. You were just here not even an hour ago. Wait a minute, why are you talking like that and what did you do to your hair?”

  London touched her long braid self-consciously. “What’s wrong with it?”

  The woman scratched her head, her confusion apparent. “Uh, nothing, but… you’re not Paris?”

  “No. I thought I just said that.”

  “You look remarkably like her. Are you…”

  “Her sister? Yes, I am.”

  The brunette’s mouth gaped open. “Funny, Paris never mentioned a sister, let alone a twin. Actually, I was under the impression she was an orphan.”

  “Perhaps I can explain,” Matt interjected. “My name is Matt Taylor.” He held out his hand which the woman hesitantly took.

  “Uh, nice to meet you. Carol Dunlop.”

  “This is London, Paris’s sister as you’ve already noticed. You’re not far off in thinking Paris didn’t have family. It’s a delicate situation actually. There were some extenuating circumstances and the two of them, London and Paris, were separated. For the past few weeks we’ve been looking for her and recently learned she’s here in New York. We’ve been here for a couple days and this has to be fate to have run into you like this. It’s such a huge city. Could we have a minute of your time?” Matt asked.

  The woman’s eyes had widened with each word. “Well, sure. This is amazing. It’s like one of those stories you see on television. I just left the bar behind us, but it’s kind of noisy in there. We can go to the coffee shop down the block.”

  London perked up at the mention of one of her favorite Earth beverages. “Coffee? I love that stuff. Let’s go!” She took Matt’s hand and followed the woman toward their destination, heart pounding in her chest. They were so close to finding her sister, she could feel it.

  Only days ago, they’d learned Paris had attended college in New York City. Matt had suggested they check the directories to see if she still lived in the city. They’d found three Paris Randalls. The first two people on the list were definitely not her sister, but the last one they’d come across had moved, leaving no forwarding address. London knew that was the Paris they’d been looking for, because the landlord had made the same mistake Carol had.

  It was hard to believe all the events that had led her to this moment.

  When the three of them were seated in the coffee shop, London told Carol a made up story of how she, her mother and Paris had become separated. Matt had warned her most people wouldn’t believe the truth.

  Carol listened intently, nodding at all the appropriate moments until London finished. “How amazing. So your poor mother… whatever happened to her?”

  London’s eyes darted to Matt’s for help. “Well, she’s in…”

  “Another country,” he supplied.

  Carol frowned. “Why didn’t she try to look for Paris herself? And why did you wait until now to try and find her?”

  “Like I said, my mother was led to believe Paris died in a fire, but I’d recently learned of this myself. My mother didn’t want to upset me by mentioning it.”

  “I see,” Carol said, though her tone suggested otherwise. “So your twin intuition told you she’s alive?”

  London nodded. “Something like that. So how do you know my sister?”

  “We work together -- not in the same department, but we interact enough where we’ve become friendly. I like Paris a lot. She’s a nice lady -- a little reserved maybe, but she’s a sweetheart. I’ve been trying to get her to come out of her shell, but something holds her back. I don’t know what it is. Seeing you will probably do her a lot of good. I can’t get over how much alike the two of you look.” Carol shook her head in apparent amazement.

  London giggled. “Well, we are twins.”

  “Touché. You must be the bubbly twin.”

  “Maybe. I’ve been told I talk a lot. I know this may seem weird, but the closer I get to finding Paris, the more I remember. When we were younger, I was the one who spoke for the two of us, but she was the one with the ideas. It’s funny the things you retain from childhood.”

  Carol nodded. “Yes, that’s so true.”

  “Could you tell us where Paris lives?” Matt asked.

  “I’ve never been to her place. I know she lives in Manhattan, but I don’t know her exact location. I can write down our business address. I know she’ll be there tomorrow. Better yet, here’s one of my cards.” Carol dug into her purse, and produced a small rectangular card.

  London took it. “Thank you so much.” She could barely contain the excitement pounding in her chest. In less than a day’s time, she’d be meetin
g her sister for the first time in twenty years!

  Chapter Two

  The DNA tracker beeped louder with each step he took. He was getting close. The princess would be in his clutches before the day was over. Good. Zahn didn’t think he could take spending another day on this godforsaken planet. It had been difficult finding a place to land his ship without being noticed.

  He and his men had settled on one of the numerous tall buildings in the city, cloaking the ship before entering the atmosphere. Perhaps he should have found out what kind of clothes the natives wore before arriving on this planet, because everywhere he went people stared. The Earthlings weren’t much different in appearance, but their gear was more conservative.

  No matter. He only had one general goal in mind -- find Princess London and take her back to Thibius -- but first he planned on dealing out some well-deserved punishment for her defection. No one had ever treated him that way before. Royalty or not, how dare London humiliate him in front of all the planet’s dignitaries by running out on their betrothal dinner and then fleeing Thibius altogether?

  Zahn had promised her father, King Blaze, that he’d retrieve her, omitting what he planned on doing to her before they made it back to the Malazian galaxy. He’d tan her luscious backside good, and teach London who her master was. If Zahn was being completely honest with himself, pride was what drove him to chase after her.

  It had been an honor to be chosen by the king to marry his much sought after daughter. Zahn, who’d come from noble lineage, chose to earn a name for himself rather than rely on his family’s name. From an early age, he wanted to succeed. Through sheer will, determination and hard work, he’d made his way through the ranks of the Royal Army until he’d reached the top spot. He’d amassed a fortune of his own, and had become Thibius’s greatest champion. It only made sense that the mother of his heir be accomplished in her own right and Princess London was beautiful, graceful and royalty.

  There was no better choice in the kingdom for him. So what if she didn’t excite him as a mate should? Zahn was sure, given time, they would do well together. She was certainly lovely enough, so it wouldn’t be a hardship to bed her. Love wasn’t a requirement he sought in his future bride, but it worried him a little that he felt little more than brotherly regard for her.