A Story Begins Now

By Jane Carver

Like other Ancadian homes, Vangee’s was beautiful. Once she closed the door behind them, a sense of serenity washed over Gambrel. Exotic-colored flowers in jewel-like vases gave off a delicate sweet fragrance. The lovely home was doomed like all the others he’d seen in the last two days. Was there no justice in the universe?

Vangee didn’t stop once they entered the dwelling. She continued down the open hallway, gauze hangings fluttering in the hot breezes. Nor did she remove her cape.

He still had no idea what she looked like. But he knew more than he did an hour ago. She fought well, thought clearly in a crisis, and spoke with soft words. The top of her head came not to the point of his shoulder.

Feeling like a barbarian among the civilized, he attempted no polite conversation. Did not try to see her face.

At the end of a hall, she pushed a door inward then stepped into a large bedroom. Across the room, outsized windows stood open. Incessant heat filtered through the night hours same as the daytime.

“I bid you rest here for tonight where you will be safe. Those who attacked us seek what they cannot have and might be bold enough to try again if we are outside. You, they would kill. I seem to be their target, but few would brave the defenses of my home. Sleep well.” She hesitated as if she wanted to add more. Finally, she turned to leave.

“Who were those men?”

“I have no idea, sire.”

“I am Gambrel Sarjean. And you are?” He knew her name but wanted to keep her there.

“I am Vangee Windrum.”

“Can I leave with the fleet tomorrow?” He stepped closer in an attempt to peer under the hood, but the light’s reflection off her eyes was the only thing he made out.

“I’m sorry. Strict rules govern how many may sail on each astral ship. Each is full to capacity. The ships merely wait for us to come aboard before sailing.”

She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. One companionable squeeze and she disappeared out the door, a faint click the only indication it closed.

Since he couldn’t explore the dwelling, he inspected the room. If necessary, he could drop from the windows to the blue grass below with no problem. Once he barred the heavy door, he shed his clothes. A smaller area to one side of the bedroom proved to be for bathing. He admired the mammoth tub. While steaming blue liquid filled the small lake of a facility, he shaved. Days had passed since his face was free of beard.

Mirrors in the room discomforted him only because he was alone. If a woman, someone like Vangee, were with him, they would be part of his enticing sensual foreplay before intimacy. Since he stood alone, the glistening glasses were useless. They reflected a tall man with abnormally broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscled thighs. His entire body looked square; no other description fit. The slight cleft in the bottom of his chin proved to be the only exception to that shape. His torso resembled a box, his shoulders making crisp right angles to thick arms and hands the size of small cruisers. Legs like columns supported his mass, the feet below resembled chunks of ‘crete.

At times, he appreciated his mass, in fights, when intimidating his enemies. Other times his huge dimension kept him from a decent hiding place. People turned from him in fear—size equaled aggression.

The only attributes he relished being so large were his privates. When aroused, his shaft strained the front of his hide trousers. Ladies loved to fondle him and begged for his attention.

He sank into the tub of steaming water and remembered women in other places. On other planets. One memory led to another. He thought of those he’d met and used. Sex came easily to him.

Now love… That was something else. Only two had ever held his heart. Xantis, his wife, long since dead. An accident. A lousy accident took the life of a gentle woman who only wanted to tend her home, love her husband, and watch children blossom around her skirts.

His thoughts came to Lindan. Nothing compared to what they had shared. Love like that never came twice.