EXCERPT

CHAPTER 1

Anneliese blinked against the brilliance of the rifle blast. Metal screamed as the shot careened off the side of a ship. Instantly, Cade pressed back, shielding her with his body.

Footsteps echoed through the spaceport. A voice barked a guttural command. Anneliese peered about her husband's back, torn between fright and fascination.

Suddenly, a native-born man ran into view, his tattered robe twisting behind him. He glanced about, chest heaving.

A criminal on the run.

Anneliese shivered. She hid her face in Cade's soft shirt, breathing deeply of his now familiar scent. She didn't want to be here, she thought, didn't want to learn more of this dangerous, decadent world. Clutching her husband's arm, she turned her gaze from the scene.

And caught sight of another face outlined in darkness.

Anneliese straightened, tugging at Cade's sleeve. A cry died in her throat. A man stood nearby, half-hidden by the fore-pit of a ship. His eyes shone like gold against his amber skin, and as he lifted them to meet hers, the hood of his garment fell away, exposing a face cut of angles and planes. The man stared beyond her as if haunted by loss. Then a scream echoed through the spaceport, and he backed away.

Anneliese turned. Uniformed guards closed about the criminal, striking him with the butts of their rifles. A huge man strode toward them, robes billowing from the force of his step. He pushed through the group, knocking the guards aside, snatching up the prisoner as if he were a child.

The criminal cried out in his alien tongue, his voice rising and falling in answer to questions. Then the giant drew a knife from his voluminous robes, opening the man's throat.

Anneliese stiffened, unable to look away. She saw blood spurt like a dark fountain, heard the wet plop of the man dropping to the pavement.

The giant walked away, leaving the guards murmuring. One of them nudged the body with his foot.

Her husband stepped forward. "You there!" he bellowed. "Explain this outrage! I'll not have my wife placed in jeopardy."

A guard said, "My apology to you both. Allow me to escort you to Customs."

Then another voice, farther away, called, "Cade, you limmer. What brings you back so soon?"

Anneliese stared at the pooling blood. It couldn't be real, she thought. How could this man be dying before her?

How could she have watched?

Suddenly, a knot of revulsion rose up her throat. She wanted to run, to dive back into the Rimer's Cope and fly far away from this horrid place.

Cade slid his arm about her shoulders, brushing back her mane of hip-length hair. "I'm sorry Lisa. Please don't allow this spectacle to affect you."

Anneliese looked up at her husband's pale eyes, forcing herself to smile. She knotted her fingers into his shirt. Cade drew her down the dark rows of docked ships toward a pair of doors. Anneliese walked as if her feet were numb, stumbling and struggling against him. She kept hearing the sound of the man striking the pavement . . .

A slap of cool air sharpened her senses. Still clinging to her husband's side, Anneliese looked about. They stood in a large waiting area. Benches formed a diamond shape in the center of the room. Communication cubicles lined the far wall, and several security guards loitered about the booths.

A tinny voice drew her attention. "Good afternoon, and welcome to the Resort Debauch. May I see your traveling permits?"

Anneliese turned toward a Customs officer. He had the dark amber skin of a native-born, and his golden eyes reflected the light.

"Your traveling papers, please?" he said again, his smile showing crooked, brown teeth.

He uses a translation device, Anneliese realized—his words didn't match his lips. Cade handed him a pair of triangular chips, which the man snapped into a computer console. The workstation flashed with the rapidly changing screen, and the man blinked like an owl.

"Anneliese Thielman?" he asked. "Any relation to Mortar Thielman?"

"Her father," Cade told him.

"Is that so?" The officer leaned back in his chair.

Anneliese swallowed several times, finding her voice. "The man outside," she said, "what was his crime?"

The officer spread his hands. "Sabotage. Thievery. Who can say? Locals are not allowed in port." He withdrew the chips from the console, recording their codes on the docking pass.

Anneliese pressed forward. "But they killed him."

"The punishment for any infraction is death, but you shouldn’t be concerned—the rules don't apply to patrons. May you both enjoy your visit."

Taking her arm, Cade guided Anneliese through the security door and down a long hallway. Crimson light shone from every direction, as if meaning to bake them.

"His blood was like ink." Anneliese felt ill with the heat.

Suddenly, she remembered the second man, the sad one hiding in the shadows. She hoped he escaped the docking station.

Her husband chuckled. "You certainly aren't your father's daughter."

Anneliese looked at him sharply. She pulled herself to her full fifty-seven inch height, stamping her foot. "My father would never abide such a brutal display. He is a gentle and sensitive man."

"Of course he is."

Cade ran the docking pass along the OCR at the door, keying in the code from his chip. The heavy door clicked, sliding to the side.

Anneliese stepped hesitantly into the hotel. The room rang with voices. Humans from all reaches of the galaxy milled about as if the lobby were a meeting place. Some wore flowing caftans. Others were dressed in less than Anneliese wore to bed at night, flaunting their nakedness.

"Astounding," she whispered.

Cade smiled. "Didn't I say you'd love it here? I'm going to register. Why don't you look around?"

"No!" Anneliese tucked her fingers beneath his arm. "I would rather stay with you."

As they stepped to the desk, a woman approached. She wore only a silver loincloth.

"Hello," she said, smiling. "Welcome to the Resort Debauch, where all your fantasies are real. May I see your docking pass, please?"

The hostess stretched out her hand, causing her breast to jiggle. Anneliese felt heat rush to her face. She averted her eyes.

"We've been expecting you," the hostess told them. "Your suites are ready. Do you have luggage at your ship, anything you would like to bring along?"

"My satchel!" Anneliese cried. "I forgot it."

Cade lifted her hand, kissing her fingertips. "Darling, I've told you. Everything we need is here."

"But, I want my diary."

His pale eyes hardened. "I said, no."

"We can retrieve it for you later if you change your mind," the hostess said. "In the meantime, may I arrange a complementary tour of our facilities?"

Cade took the keys from the countertop. "I've been here before."

"Then I bid you pleasant fantasies. Mr. Ahzgott will lead you to your rooms."

A native man with a weathered face rounded the desk. He bowed briefly. "The Resort was founded 212 Standard years ago by Burke Noyade of the Gamma Coalition. He chose this planet because of its distance from normal trading routes, and because of its unlimited volcanic energy."

He led them across the vast lobby, past cliques of laughing, boisterous people. Anneliese tried to concentrate upon her guide's recital, but her eyes kept flicking to the side.

Couches created a maze around her. Potted trees drooped with fragrant blooms. She turned a corner, entering a room with a waterfall. Spotlights above the gushing stream filled the air with glittering motes.

"How wonderful!" Anneliese raised her voice over the forceful roar. She hurried to the edge of the pool.

Just then, a naked man stepped from the cascading water. He ran his fingers through his streaming hair, oblivious to them. Anneliese covered her face with both hands.

"Yes," Ahzgott said, "we have several pools and hot tubs available, the most popular of which is on the second level—it is fashioned after a desert geyser on the Seretine flats." He led them around the fall. Lowering his voice, he said, "Water is our planet's most precious resource, and must be carefully reclaimed."

Anneliese walked with her head down, hoping to hide her burning cheeks. Her mind replayed the emergence of the naked man.

They entered a wide corridor.

"What's in there?" she asked, motioning toward a pair of ornate doors.

Ahzgott halted. "This is our main banquet hall. Similar halls are at the end of each wing. Banquets begin promptly at dusk and continue throughout the night."

Anneliese stepped inside, her footsteps echoing. Swathes of gold velvet draped the walls, and archaic lanterns hung from the ceiling.In the center of the room, she saw a long table.

"A magnificent piece," she said, admiring its shimmering grain, "although, I doubt one table is up to the task. Where are the chairs?"

"Housekeepers," Ahzgott said, "have been polishing the floor."

Anneliese looked down. Her image reflected as if she stood upon a black mirror. "I've never seen flooring like this," she said.

"It is made of blood."

"I beg your pardon?"

"When the Resort came to this planet, the local inhabitants pledged their fealty with blood. The architects poured the substance over a foundation—a symbolic gesture."

Anneliese felt her face drain. She stared as if mired in gore.

Cade laughed, sweeping her into his arms. "Excuse my wife. She's a bit faint of spirit."

Anneliese gulped the air. "Did you know?"

Laughing, Cade swung her about in a dance.

"You knew!" she cried. "And you let me walk."

"No. Of course not." He looked down at her in his arms, his pale eyes holding her own, showing the crooked smile that had so captured her heart. "But, you'd best reconcile this in your mind," he said quietly, "for here is where we dine tonight."

He carried her to the corridor, setting her sharply onto her feet. Without a word, their guide continued walking. Anneliese glanced at the silent room, hurrying away.

The corridor ended at a featureless wall. A panel opened, and Ahzgott ushered them into a cubicle.

"The lifts utilize a computer-relay system," he said, "but they are operator controlled. The operator can be reached at any time." He pressed a button on the wall.

"Destination?" a voice asked.

Ahzgott said, "Twenty-seven South."

Immediately, the cubicle moved, rising straight up then turning to travel sideways. Anneliese smiled with the sensation. When the doors opened, she stepped out into a sunny courtyard beneath a transparent dome. Urns of flowers lined the walkway—like a sculpted garden, she thought.

"Here we have the penthouse suites," Ahzgott told them, "eight in all. Yours will be in that direction."

"Thank you," Cade said. "We can find our way from here."

"Pleasant fantasies." Ahzgott accepted the coin tossed to him and, head inclined, stepped backward into the lift.

Cade wrapped his arms about his wife, gently kissing the top of her head. "Well, what do you think? Is it everything I told you it would be?"

Anneliese paused, reveling in his embrace; she felt protected and warm. "It's beautiful," she told him, then realized it was true.

Sunlight streamed from the overhead dome, painting iridescent auras about the blossoms. A couple strolled hand in hand along the colorful array, and farther, a woman sat upon a bench, reading a book.

Cade drew Anneliese across the courtyard, stopping before a door. He pressed the keychip into the lock.

Anneliese felt suddenly nervous, and laughed to cover it. "No voice recognition, no handprints?"

"The people who frequent the Resort Debauch don't appreciate having their prints recorded." He kissed her cheek. "If you have any problems, I'll be right across the hall."

"Separate rooms?" Anneliese blurted.

Cade cupped her chin in his palm. "We have the rest of our lives to be together. I don't want to rush you."

"But, I thought. . . ."

"Enough. I want you to go inside and rest. I'll buy a gown for you to wear to dinner." He gave her his crooked smile.

Anneliese searched his face. Tears welled in her eyes. Why did you bring me here? she wanted to ask. Why here, when we had the whole galaxy for our honeymoon?

Her husband guided her into the suite. The door clicked shut. Anneliese wrapped her arms about an empty sensation in her chest, turning to face the room.

The suite was large and sunny; the vaulted ceiling slanted into a window box that ran along the outer wall. A sunken pit dominated the great room, with a theatre-style vid-screen opposite it.

Anneliese moved to the doorway of the master bedroom. Here, the entire ceiling was transparent, part of the penthouse dome. A blush touched the sky as the afternoon waned.
She peered around the corner at an enormous bed. Heavy, intaglio posts anchored its corners. The wall above held an antique oil painting—a woman depicted with wings.

Sudden tears filled her. Anneliese leapt onto the bed. Burying her face in a mound of fragrant, satiny sheets, she wept until she fell asleep.