Parallel Attraction

  Prologue

  It wasn't every day you managed to lose your king while on a security mission to an alien planet. In fact, it took a spectacularly large amount of bad luck, but Councilor Aldorsk couldn't say that he was surprised by the current turn of events. Not after the recent series of impetuous royal decisions, all of which had indirectly led to this moment. Every Refarian gathered on the ship's deck was concerned for the king's welfare, voicing fears they all harbored—but rarely vocalized. What if he dies? What if he's captured? These were the same fears that plagued the king's leadership back home on a daily basis.

  Before them all—and in the midst of an argument of colossal proportions—the king had shape-shifted into a ball of glowing energy in order to slip through the floor and to the exterior of the ship without being apprehended. By now the young leader had certainly arrived on Earth, returning to his physical form. He might even be hiking into the nearby mountains, never to return.

  The young monarch's energy had left a vibrant trailing pattern on the grooved floor, finally vanishing in the exact spot where the king had last stood. The transport's captain stared at the floor along with Aldorsk. "I don't think there's any structural damage," the man assessed dubiously.

  Standing beside Aldorsk was his fellow councilor, Elder Graeon. "I don't think this"—Graeon hesitated, squatting down to inspect potential damage to the craft—"is such a good idea, allowing our king to venture to the planet's surface alone."

  "He will be fine," Aldorsk insisted.

  It was the ship's captain who spoke next. "If you don't mind my saying so, the king seems quite agitated lately." He pointed down at the floor, which was still glowing with their monarch's energy shadow. "Are you certain he's ready for this mission?"

  "He's on Earth now, Captain," Aldorsk reminded sharply. "Therefore the mission is already engaged."

  "He's unsteady," Graeon answered in a quiet voice, rising to his feet again. "I am concerned." His long black hair was tied neatly at his back, but several light strands of silver betrayed his impending maturity. All Refarian males turned silver-headed once their fertile years had ended. "He seems to grow more impulsive with every passing day."

  "You know the reason for that," Aldorsk reminded him seriously. "You can hardly fault him for that which he does not understand in himself."

  "We must be very protective at this time of his awakening."

  Aldorsk grew thoughtful. "True, the changes in his young body are very complex, all the more because of his dual nature. Of course he's agitated. He hardly understands his transformation—much less that it's natural for his kind."

  Graeon worked an eyebrow. "Perhaps he should consult you, Councilor. You guided his father through his own first season."

  Aldorsk smiled. "I think you know our king well enough to realize that no questions will be forthcoming on this matter."

  The other elder persisted: "His first mating cycle is imminent, surely—"

  Aldorsk lifted a hand. "He must find the way on his own."

  "At fifteen, he's already fertile."

  "Almost sixteen," Aldorsk corrected. "What do you propose? That I urge him to take a mate so soon? He must be given time, even in the midst of war."

  "It is dangerous to wait," Graeon argued. "Without any clear successor, the line remains in jeopardy."

  Aldorsk sighed. "It was dangerous to make this journey at all. At what point must we advise the king to remain at the palace? Hidden?"

  "Coming here was not my choice," Graeon reminded his council leader.

  "No, it was our lord's."

  "Perhaps he should not be allowed to make every decision until the succession is secured."

  "Elder Graeon!" Aldorsk cried. "You must silence yourself. Our king is our commander."

  Graeon's dark face flushed, his mouth tightening. "I love our king, as you well know, both as friend and as leader. But I worry much about his future."

  Yes, they all worried about the future, of the Refarian ruler, who at the moment was the very last in line after more than a thousand years of unbroken succession. But perhaps, at least just for now, they should be more worried that the king had arrived on an alien planet under the early influence of his first mating season.

  The guy on the path ahead was up to no good, clearly. He had a sample bag in one hand, and some sort of utensil in the other, and that spelled one thing for sure— illegal researcher.

  "Are you taking soil samples?" Kelsey called out, though she was still a good twenty feet away from the man. She might only be fourteen (well, almost), but she felt pretty fierce and protective when it came to Yellowstone. Too many people came to the park each summer and abused the place, so her mother had taught her to be friendly but tough when she found someone doing something stupid or potentially dangerous. When she and her family spent their vacation camping in the park, like they were doing this week, she always made a point of keeping an eye on what tourists were doing, reminding them to respect the land like she'd always been taught to do.

  Not that she hadn't just spent the entire morning hiking around Mirror Lake collecting her own rock and soil samples, but the point was, she knew how to be responsible about it. Whereas the tall, dark-haired guy on the path ahead of her, on the other hand, looked like—no, had to be—the sort who would cart truckloads of illegal samples out of the park. When she got five feet away from him, she called out again: "You're not allowed to take samples out of here without permission."

  He leaped to his feet and spun to face her, saying nothing. And when his mysterious, wide-set eyes met hers, she realized he wasn't much older than she herself was.

  She lifted her chin, ignoring the way his dark-eyed gaze affected her. "You've gotta have a permit," she explained, drawing in a breath. "Can't take anything out of here without one."

  The boy worked his jaw for a moment, and finally dropped his hands to his sides, the apparent samples falling to the ground. "Just... studying," he answered awkwardly, the words accented. Was he Russian? He almost sounded like it. Just shtudeeing.

  "Where are you from?" she asked, stepping closer to him. She had a small backpack thrust over one shoulder, with loads of her own rock and soil samples neatly labeled inside. Only she would never dream of removing anything from the park without express permission, which she'd obtained only once before—for last year's science fair.

  When he didn't reply, she eyed him warily. "You're not one of those prodigies from the Thorpe School, are you?" Thorpe always beat her own high school at the fair, year after year. It would be totally like them to import some genius to their team just to dominate yet again.

  "Just"—he smiled, making her stomach flip-flop with butterflies—"stranger."

  "Do you speak in full sentences?" she asked with a playful toss of her curly hair. Guys liked her long, dark-auburn hair, that's what she'd always heard.

  He folded his arms over his chest, looking very much like a guy who was used to getting his way. "Sometimes."

  "But not now?"

  "Not now." The big smile he gave her made the flip-floppy thing in her stomach go even wilder. And the butterflies, well, they made her feel bold. It was weird, but true. Yeah, he had a seriously amazing smile, all right, with perfect white teeth that stood out against his dark skin. He didn't look Russian, more like someone from Iran or Israel or Greece. Italy. Actually, come to think of it, he didn't look like any exact nationality she could pinpoint. Plus, the outfit was just a little bit funky—he had on knee-high boots of dark leather, and over that he wore a sort of tunic thing down to his knees, made of a simple linen material, with a long-sleeved shirt underneath.

  "Where are you from? Really?" She dropped her pack to the ground. "You sound Russian."

  He gave her
a guarded look. "Very far from here." Vairry fahr fvrom heare.

  "But where?"

  "It is not important."

  "Maybe it's important to me," she said with a laugh, but he only gave her a look of confusion.

  "Okay, forget that. I'm Kelsey Wells." She stuck her hand out and he clasped it in his own with warm confidence—and then released it a fraction too quickly, as if unaccustomed to shaking hands.

  He said nothing else, so finally she prompted him: "What's your name?"

  "Some call me Jareshk."

  "So, Jareshk, you're, like, eastern European, is that it?" He only gave her a blank look in return, and after tossing out a few other possibilities, she finally said, "Okay, I give up. But only for a little while."

  If Kelsey Wells was any indication, humans were a highly persistent and curious people, prone to seeking the truth at all costs. So far this reconnaissance had led Jareshk to one conclusion: He liked her species very much. Her clear, truthful eyes made him want to admit everything about his mission here on her planet. An unwise choice, perhaps, but with her relentless questions he had no doubt he would soon reveal his identity—or be forced to leave. And he definitely did not wish to leave Kelsey Wells, not quite yet. She brought out strange feelings inside of him. Pleasurable, electric feelings.

  "Want to see the samples I found?" She climbed atop a large boulder beside where they stood on the wooded path, and began to spread the rocks out. "Here," she encouraged him, eyes alight with excitement. "Come on and I'll show you."

  As she instructed, he settled opposite her so that they sat nearly knee-to-knee atop the boulder. He wished he weren't wearing the tall boots and his shashar robe; if he were dressed like she was, he'd be feeling her warm skin against his own. As if reading his mind, she reached out a tentative hand and touched his right boot "You must be really hot in that outfit."

  "It suits me," he lied, feeling the midday sun beat down on him. The ship had been much cooler than her planet's surface.

  "Yeah, I guess. If you're a Ren Fair escapee." She waved at his long robe and tunic. "Couldn't you at least take... well, the top part off? It'd be less hot."

  She had no idea how her innocent suggestion caused his royal blood to boil. He'd turned fifteen almost a year ago, and he'd heard the elders whispering about him ever since. They spoke in heated whispers about his line's propensity for early-age mating cycles. Blushing, he stared down into his lap; mating cycles were for animals, not kings.

  But it wasn't just the mating urges that were making him feel things for Kelsey. It was very odd indeed, but he ached to please her—to bow down before her as if she were the monarch, not he.

  "All right." He leaped to his feet, pulling the robe over his head. When he was finished, he stood before her wearing only his shirt and a pair of drakaer pants—like her shorts, but worn beneath the overtunic.

  She studied him thoughtfully. "You know, that still just looks hot to me." He swore he detected a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes as she muttered, "In a manner of speaking."

  He eagerly shrugged out of the shirt, then looked to see if she was satisfied.

  She stared up at him, and her clear eyes grew wide at the sight of his bare chest. "Oh, good grief."

  Panicked, he folded both arms over his chest protectively. "What is it? Something... wrong?" He hadn't even considered the possibility that his body might appear different from the male of her own species.

  "Nothing," she practically squeaked, her face reddening as she made a big show of laying out her rocks for him to see—and of avoiding eye contact with him.

  A slow smile spread across his face. It wasn't that his body appeared alarmingly alien in some way. It was that she found him attractive… sensually pleasing. He froze for a moment, then released a long breath. It was as if that part of himself—the one that had been running too hot for months—finally clicked into place. He sat down opposite her again, keenly aware not only of his own bare chest, but also of her bare leg touching his.

  "You have many rocks," he said, hugging himself self-consciously. He felt naked, exposed—hungry for her, too, and the rushing confluence of all those feelings inside left him feeling shy and uneasy. "I-I do not know . . . way to describe their . . . beauty." And he didn't just mean the rocks, either; he longed for a way to express how beautiful he found her.

  "It's okay, Jareshk," she answered with a genuine smile of empathy. It was as if she knew exactly what he was feeling. "Let's just talk a while. Cool?"

  No, he was not cool. He was the very opposite—his whole body was aflame, outrageously on fire in a way that barely enabled him to sit and gaze into her eyes. And yet he did. And they did talk, for hours and hours, it turned out, and every time she smiled at him, his heart fluttered like a bird's wing in his chest. He only hoped that the awkward smiles he gave her in return disguised the unsettled trembling he felt inside.

  By late afternoon, Jareshk had already begun to seem less like a friend to Kelsey, and more like a boyfriend, a fact that, weirdly enough, felt totally right. It helped that the more time they spent together, the better his English got. It was downright spooky, but he seemed really smart, so she pegged him as a super-fast learner and didn't question him about his growing fluency. For hours, they hiked and talked; sometimes they found a spot along the lake where they just sat and watched the surface ripple in the wind. "Water at my home is not so clear as this. Not usually," he told her solemnly.

  "What do you mean?"

  His face grew darker, sad. "Our… lakes, you call them? They are polluted by… war. Our enemies."

  "What war are you talking about? You should tell me where you're from; it's only fair." She couldn't help feeling angry that he wouldn't reveal more about himself. She'd already talked about her dreams of being a geologist, how she might want to work for NASA one day… that her dad made her nuts when he bossed her around. What hadn't she told him, really? "Come on, what gives? Where are you from?" she pushed.

  "I don't wish to burden you with heavy things." He forced his mouth into a smile, only this time it didn't reach his eyes.

  Knowing she could get pushy sometimes if she wasn't careful, she let her anger melt away. "I just want to know you," she encouraged. "That's all."

  "Thank you, Kelsey," he said softly, and reached for her hand. Slowly, very gently, he threaded his fingers together with hers, and every part of her came more alive somehow.

  They sat like that for a long time, with Kelsey's body trembling and Jareshk holding her hand, until the day began to grow much cooler, and the sun tracked low on the other side of the mountains.

  But Jareshk never said another word about his country or where he came from, or the mysterious war that seemed to threaten his home. And Kelsey decided to focus on the next few days, camping with her parents in Yellowstone, and the fact that Jarseshk would be there in the park, too.

  On their last night together, Kelsey suggested that she sneak out of her family's tent and meet him by Mirror Lake. It was late before she appeared there beneath the starless sky. He'd been growing restless, worried that he wouldn't see her again before he had to return to the transport. Kelsey Wells did powerful, awakening things to him, things he'd never once experienced in his almost sixteen years. It was as if every time he so much as glanced at her, his cells burned brighter, or his powerful energy blazed stronger. Two days they'd spent together, but it might as well have been a year. He felt, on a very elemental level, as if he'd known her his whole life, been waiting for her somehow.

  He had to return to the transport tonight; he'd avoided his elders long enough. He knew it, but just hadn't come to terms with letting Kelsey go, even though their parting was inevitable. Her family would leave tomorrow anyway, and while so far he'd avoided her questions about where he lived, or when they might see each other in the future, he had much to reveal to her yet.

  But for now, there were more immediate, earth-bound concerns, and they mostly revolved around a kiss. Both days he'd spent with her he
'd longed to touch her. To feel her skin against his, to know what her hair would be like beneath his fingertips, and finally now, under cover of darkness, he felt free to make his move.

  Kelsey smiled up at him. "I can't believe I got away from my parental units. Sheesh, could the tent zipper have been any louder? Doubt it."

  Jared gave a short nod, focused on the real matter at hand. "I wish to touch you," he blurted. "To kiss you." He thrust his chest out. "It has become imperative that we kiss. Tonight. Now." He stepped very close to her, but she shoved a palm against his chest.

  "Where are you from, Jareshk?" she asked, preventing him from coming any nearer to her. "Really. 'Cause you don't talk like the guys in Jackson do, and I can't kiss you if I don't know. You keep not answering, and—"

  He clasped her palm over his heart, holding it there. "I'm a visitor, like you."

  "Only I'm visiting from, like, an hour away." She wriggled her hand free from his, frowning at him.

  He glanced up at the dark, moonless sky. "It's a bit farther to my home, yes."

  "My money's still on Eastern Europe."

  If he told her the truth, it was unlikely he would get this kiss. But if he didn't, it seemed equally unlikely. Besides, he wanted her to know him—truly know him.

  He circled her, studying, calculating. The khaki-colored shorts she wore seemed no longer than his little finger. Her legs, on the other hand, seemed to go halfway to forever, all curves and shape, and just glancing at them made his pulse skitter. His whole body tightened, and he wondered if it was the result of these "cycles" he'd heard whispered about. Did he ache for Kelsey only because of something strange in his blood? Maybe humans didn't think this way at all.

  She gave a nervous laugh. "You're looking at me funny."

  "You are a child," he said, trying to argue with himself. He shouldn't kiss her, she was too young, too human; yet he'd thought of little else for the past two days.

  "Are you kidding? I'll be fourteen in another few weeks." She folded both arms across her chest, which only further emphasized her shapely—very un-childlike—breasts. She was a woman. Maybe not completely, not any more than he was a man, but she was becoming one, and every cell within his Refarian body screamed that he should kiss her.