Parallel Attraction.

By Deidre Martin.

This book is dedicated to my family:.

To my husband, Judson Knight, and my daughters, Tyler and Riley Knight, for their willingness to share me with my writing dream.

To my sister, Pamela Harty, an amazing agent who helped make that dream come true.

To my mother, Eleanor Knight, the first person to breathe life to the dream so many years ago by calling me a writer.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

There are many people I would like to thank for their generous support in the writing and publishing of this book-first and foremost my husband, Judson Knight. Without him, there would be no book. He's my best friend, confidant, and all-around hero, and his support made it possible for me to write in addition to being a literary agent.

My fabulous editor Louisa Edwards deserves major thanks and kudos, not only for really "getting" this series, but also for her great editorial suggestions, which helped make this book stronger. From the first moment she read the material, I've felt that I had a very special champion on my side. My editor Rose Hilliard is equally terrific, and I've been blessed to have not one but two editors at NAL, both of whom have taken expert care of me.

My agent and sister, Pamela Harty, is a tireless advocate for me, and has spent many years listening to me discuss one writing project or another. Thank goodness all that talk finally led somewhere! I'm tremendously blessed to have such a great agent on my side, both personally and as a member of the Knight Agency team.

Nancy Berland is a fabulous publicist, and her belief in this series has meant the world to me. Not only is she brilliant, but she also happens to be a lot of fun to dance with. Nancy, thank you from the bottom of my heart for being behind me all the way.

My wonder girl in the Knight Agency office, Samantha Jenkins, has been a gift from G.o.d, right when this stressed-out agent/author/mother/wife needed someone to sail in and make things easier. Thank you for all you do, Samantha.

Kathy Baker's support for both this book and for me as an author has been invaluable. Thanks, girl!

I'd like to thank my e-group writer gal pals, many of whom read versions of this material and offered critique: Kath, Tas, Mel, Nephele, Micha, Blanca, Anne, Tara, Bennie, Crystal, Stacey, and Angela. Our early days together shaped me as a writer, and I am forever grateful for that time.

Mega thanks to Angela Zoltners, an amazing friend and reader, who proved invaluable in the writing of this book.

Finally, sincere thanks to the people in Wyoming who answered endless questions and have been a great resource in the writing of this series: Jeff Cunnington, and Meagan and Aron at the Snake River Lodge.

We must not allow the clock and the calendar to blind us to the fact that each moment of life is a miracle and mystery.

-H. G. Wells.

Bl'alastraka.

A Refarian Book of Intimate Love.

Author Unknown; English Translator Unknown.

Verse one, superior text: The seeking of a mate shall be undertaken with all due preparation and care. A life-bond should never be contemplated as a light thing- unlike a legal union or sanctified joining, the sealing of souls cannot be severed. When a mate is soulbound to another- lifemated, as some have come to regard it-a mystery is engaged. In one aspect mystical, in another corporeal, and yet another spiritual, the lifemating process is the most sublime endeavor that a Refarian may a.s.sume. Once formed, the bond must be ever cherished and nurtured by a process of lifelong rigor.

There have been reports of other species seeking to mimic our mating rituals and bonds; the Antousians, when first upon our soil, were both mystified and impressed to see the esteem with which our kind regarded the love bond. To this day, rumors abound that Antousians sought-indeed, continue to seek- the inducement of mating bonds uncommon to their kind by genetic heritage.

A bond-even a two-way bond-may exist for a temporary purpose. This situation is not advisable, however, as such intimacy may not easily be remedied once embarked upon. One soul, bound solidly to another, has proven over time a means of inducing deep, lasting pa.s.sion. The author notes that such may prove true only in instances of destined lifemates. There are extant tales of bonds unrelated to that of lifemating-wartime communication, procurement of goods, amelioration of loneliness. Such temporary joinings should always be initiated with utmost caution.

Let the bonding ritual be regarded with seriousness of esteem and all intended respect, and if such be the case, one shall never err.

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 he was surprised. 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? What if he never makes it back? These were the same fears that plagued the king's leadership back home on a daily basis, only now those concerns were magnified a hundredfold because he'd taken off without so much as a security escort. Yes, Aldorsk was anxious, but, being the eldest adviser on the royal council, he simply worked to stay calmer than the others.

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, and had returned to his physical form. He might even be hiking into the nearby mountains, never to return. It required an extraordinary amount of calm not to worry for the young man's welfare, but Councilor Aldorsk determined to put forth a brave, composed face for the Refarians knotted around the glowing center of the transport.

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 him. "I don't think there's any structural damage," the man a.s.sessed, but from his expression he looked dubious about the situation in general.

Standing beside Aldorsk was his fellow councilor, Elder Graeon. "I don't think this is"-Graeon hesitated, squatting down to inspect potential damage to the craft-"such a very good idea, allowing him 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. His frequent outbursts, the shape-shifting without restraint, and now this." 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 does not seem at all himself."

"He's on Earth now, Captain," Aldorsk reminded them with a burst of impatience. "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 pa.s.sing 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 a danger 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?"

"As you will recall, 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, no doubt about it. 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.

Not that she hadn't just spent the entire morning hiking around Mirror Lake collecting her own rock and soil sam-pies, but at least she knew how to be responsible about it. 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, but he said nothing. And when his mysterious, wide-set eyes met hers, she realized he couldn't be that much older than she was.

She lifted her chin and continued, ignoring the way the guy's 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, seemingly searching for words, 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 Soviet genius to their team just to dominate yet again.

"No."

"You Soviet or something?"

"Just"-he smiled, making her stomach flip-flop with b.u.t.terflies-"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 b.u.t.ter-flies, 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-and she definitely loved the dark-skin part. 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 brown 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 asked, dropping 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 gave her a look of confusion.

"Okay, forget that. I'm Kelsey Wells," she said, sticking her hand out. He took it, his own hand closing around hers with warm confidence-and yet he 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, p.r.o.ne to leading with questions and seeking the truth. 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 ident.i.ty-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 asked him, her eyes alight with sudden excitement. She climbed atop a large boulder beside where they stood on the wooded path, and began to spread them out. "Here," she encouraged him. "Come on and I'll show you."

He did as she invited, settling 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. 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 Faire escapee." She waved at his long robe and tunic. "Couldn't you take... well, the top part off? It'd be less hot."

She had no idea how her innocent suggestion caused his blood to boil. He'd turned fifteen ten months ago; he'd heard the elders whispering, talking about his D'Aravnian blood, his line's propensity for early-age mating cycles. Blushing, he stared down into his lap. There was something wrong with him, plain and simple. Mating cycles were for animals, not kings.

But it wasn't the mating urges that were making him feel things for Kelsey. It was very odd indeed, but he ached to please her. "All right," he said, jumping to his feet and 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.

He sighed and shrugged out of the shirt altogether, 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!" She gasped.

What had he done? In a panic, he folded both arms over his chest protectively. "What is it? Something... wrong?"