"You seem so healthy," Mac said. "So unaffected."
"I am healthy." Del couldn't say he was unaffected. It had been a horrific time in his life. Although his family was the royal dynasty of Skolia, the government had controlled their lives until just recently. Del had learned the hard way how those with power could exploit the vulnerabilities of people they sought to command.
Mac spoke gently. "There's more, isn't there?"
Del shook his head. He couldn't talk anymore. He was also aware of the general's men in the flycar. He doubted Allied Space Command cared about his personal hells; they wanted secrets that would impact their balance of power with Skolia. And he did know a few "little things," such as, oh, how far his brother the Imperator would go in negotiating the presence of Earth's military forces in Skolian space. Del would never tell the Allieds. So instead they knew he had been treated for drug use. That would fit right in with General Fitz McLane's low opinion of him. Del wished he had kept his mouth shut. He closed the memories away, trying to hide them where they couldn't hurt him.
"Just be careful," Mac said. When Del glanced at him, Mac smiled ruefully. "It's hard for me to imagine a Ruby prince in the holo-rock industry."
Del laughed without humor. "I'm sure for my family, it's hard to imagine anyone paying me to do this."
"Really?" Mac seemed genuinely surprised. "They know how you sing."
"They think I'm just making noise. They've never heard of rock, and I doubt they'd care if they knew about it." Del shook his head. "I'm not like them. I'm no prodigy or great fighter pilot. I'll never have a degree in anything. I can't teach or do scholarship or be a delegate in Assembly." Such simple words, and they hurt so much. "All I ever wanted was my music. And maybe even to have people want to hear it." Softly he said, "You gave me that today. Let me enjoy it while it lasts."
Mac's gaze never wavered. "You don't have to be a genius or world leader to consider your life worthwhile."
"Try living in my family," Del said with a bitterness he didn't want to feel. "Try being the only failure out of all those extraordinary people. Then tell me that."
"Del—"
He lifted his hand to stop Mac. He couldn't take any more. With a jerk, he indicated a gold tower below them. "Why are we circling that?"
Mercifully, Mac let go of his other questions. "That's the Star Tower. We're in a holding pattern to land on the roof flyport."
"Oh." Del set his hand down.
In moments, the flycar was descending. As it landed on the roof, Mac said, "I had quite a talk with General McLane tonight."
Del winced. "I'm afraid to ask about what."
Mac didn't tiptoe around the subject. "We'd like you to keep your identity a secret. The fewer people who know, the easier it will be to protect you."
The request didn't surprise Del. Nor did he object, even if it did come from the authoritarian McLane. He had no desire to have his name associated with his famous kin. If he had some small measure of success, he wanted it to come from his singing, not because he was a member of the Ruby Dynasty.
"I hadn't planned on telling anyone," Del said.
Someone swung open his door, and he looked up to see his bodyguard standing outside. The man had no uniform, just casual slacks and a holo-mesh shirt, but he had military emblazoned all over him, from his buzzed hair to his rigid posture.
Del glared at Mac. "He's not coming with me."
"You can't go alone," Mac said. When Del scowled, he added, "No, he won't be on your date with Ricki. He'll escort you into the Sheraton. After they take you to Ricki, he'll join the guards in the key-room for the penthouse Prime-Nova keeps here." Dryly he added, "Prime-Nova has better security than we do at the base."
"What for?" Del asked, intrigued.
"Entertainment is a huge business," Mac said. "And Prime-Nova is one of the largest conglomerates. A lot of people want to be where you are right now."
Del wasn't sure what to think about that, but it reminded him of the idealized fantasy so many people had of Ruby Heirs. They had no idea. Those fantasies had nothing to do with reality.
He stepped out of the flycar and stood next to the Marine. Looking up at the large fellow, he said, "Hello." He would have expected Fitz to choose someone less obvious, but then, he knew so little about life here, he had no idea what was obvious.
"Good evening, Your Highness," the man rumbled.
"You better not call me 'Highness' once we're inside," Del said.
"I won't," the Marine assured him.
Del hesitated, not wanting to feel intimidated by his own guard. "What's your name?"
"Sergeant Cameron."
Del nodded awkwardly to the giant. Then he turned to Mac, who was still in the car. "Thanks for talking to me."
Mac scooted over to Del's side. "Just remember what I said."
Del grinned. "Aren't you worried about Ricki, stuck with a reprobate like me?"
Mac smiled. "Call me tomorrow, all right? We need to talk about your contract."
"Sure." Del lifted his hand in farewell.
Then he headed into the Star Tower.
IV: Tower of Dreams
Ricki saw him in the window first. She was sitting in her tall chair, facing the glass wall, looking over the glistening city. And there, reflected in the glass, was an even more appealing vision: Del, walking into the room.
She turned around as the wall behind Del re-formed, leaving them alone in the Sky Room. He had looked good earlier today, but that was nothing compared to now. His tailored leather jacket was deliciously sinful, fitting his lean frame perfectly. He had left it unfastened, revealing a white shirt open at the neck just enough to show a triangle of chest hair.
Careful, Ricki thought. She never let people affect her too much, even just by noticing them. It gave them control, which meant the power to hurt her. She was a cool operator, smooth and unruffled, and she ignored the misguided poets who claimed they saw past her icy exterior to a lonely soul. She wasn't affected by the way those black leather pants clung to Del's legs. And that belt made out of starship ring fittings that rested so low on his hips, hugging his anatomy—goodness. His boots had just enough heel to shift his hips forward, accenting his sensual build. His hair, well that was just protein . . . gleaming, luxuriant protein that framed his face, his pouting mouth, and those huge eyes, as if he were some beautiful, wicked angel who could snarl like a devil.
Oh my.
"Hello," Ricki purred.
Del stalked over and slid into the other chair at the table. Tilting his head toward the window, he said, "That's quite a view." Without taking his eyes off her, he added, "Spectacular, in fact."
Ah, sweet seduction. She smiled at him. "That's why Prime-Nova keeps this suite."
A hum came from a glimmering mesh on the table, followed by the voice of the human bartender who served the penthouse. "Would your guest care for a drink, Ms. Varento?"
Ricki raised her eyebrow at Del.
"Orange juice," Del said.
Ricki laughed softly. "You may look like a lethal weapon, but I think the farm boy is still in there." She spoke into the comm. "Jack, bring him up one like you did for me, double time."
"Right away, ma'am."
"Like yours?" Looking disconcerted, Del tapped her cut-crystal glass. "That drink is blue."
"Blue as a Night Dazer, which is what it's called." It was such a dumb name, it sounded like something she would come up with. "Mostly it's Southern Comfort."
Del laughed in his rumbling voice. "Whose comfort?"
"Haven't you had whiskey before?"
His smile vanished. "Yes."
Huh. What caused that reaction? "But not lately?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I not remember."
"You'll like this one."
He didn't answer, he just looked restlessly around the room. His gaze came to rest on the spectacular view outside the tower. "Nothing is like this where I live."
"You come from a place called Lyshriol, right?
" When he didn't answer, she said, "I looked it up on the mesh. I couldn't find anything about a colony with that name."
"It is small place, not much." His gaze softened as he turned to her. "I translated another song tonight."
"Oh. Good." It relieved her that he hadn't objected when they told him the songs had to be in English. A lot of her acts sang in Chinese or Spanish. If he had been doing fusion, he could have sung in any language, even one he made up. But for holo-rock, labels wanted English, mainly for historical reasons, because it had started in English-speaking countries.
Curious, she said, "What language were you singing before?" Maybe talking about his home would relax him.
He smiled slightly. "It's called Trillian. From offworld."
Huh. That sounded made-up. "I've never heard of it."
"It's an old language."
"It can't be that old," Ricki said. "The earliest offworld colony has only been around a hundred and fifty years."
Del considered her as if she were a decision he needed to ponder. Then he said, "I don't come from an Allied colony. Lyshriol was one of the lost colonies from the Ruby Empire. Your people found it about a hundred years ago."
Ricki gaped at him. "You're Skolian?"
"Earth found us. Not the Skolians." Although guarded, he wasn't avoiding her gaze. "Some resort planners from Texas started to set up hotels there, but it didn't work out. So they left."
Ricki had always had an internal detector for when people lied to her, an intuition that proved invaluable in her business. She thought Del was telling the truth. Still, it sounded weird. "So you're saying you come from an offworld settlement that's five thousand years old."
"That's right." He was watching her closely. "Does that bother you?"
"Well, no." She had no idea what to make of it. "I've never understood this business about the Skolian colonies. I don't see how they can be five thousand years old. Humans lived in caves back then."
Del shrugged. "Some race took humans from Earth and left them on another planet."
Although Ricki had heard the story, she had never believed it at a gut level. "Why would a bunch of aliens take humans from Earth thousands of years ago and strand them on some other world?"
"We don't know. They vanished."
Ricki couldn't help but laugh. "So your ancestors, a bunch of Stone Age primitives, set up an interstellar empire? Come on."
"Not right away." Del didn't seem offended by her questions. "It take a thousand years. Even then, they manage only because they have libraries." He stopped, then said, "I mean, they managed because they had libraries. The beings that kidnapped them left behind libraries that describe the science. Described, I mean."
It amazed her how fast he was learning English. And what a deliciously odd development in her new act. "So this interstellar empire they set up thousands of years ago—that's what Skolians call the Ruby Empire?"
"That's right." He tapped his fingers on the table. "The Empire didn't last long. Its people knew too little about the science they were using. Its collapse left its colonies stranded."
Ricki rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand, fascinated. This could make some dynamite promotional material if Del would let her use it. "Is that why Skolians call those worlds lost colonies? Because they were stranded after the empire fell?"
Del nodded. "My world is one. We were isolated for thousands of years. We lost our technology." He stared at his hinged hand. "Maybe we never had it. We have no records from that time."
"I'm surprised the Skolians don't demand we give your world back to them."
He shifted in his seat. "I don't get involved in politics."
Well, good. She got heartburn when her acts used their celebrity to push an agenda. It hurt sales. "If the Ruby Empire fell thousands of years ago," she mused, "I wonder why the Skolians still have a Ruby Dynasty."
Del suddenly swung around to look at the gold wall across the room. "I think the bartender is here."
"I don't hear—" Ricki stopped as a man in a tuxedo and a glimmer-mesh cravat walked through the curtain of gold light. He carried a laser tray with a blue drink that glowed in a play of silver light.
Huh. How had Del known someone was coming in?
"This is Jack," Ricki told Del. "Did you hear him outside?"
"That's right." Del wouldn't look at her.
Jack set the glass in front of Del and bowed. "I hope you enjoy it, sir."
Although Del nodded, he seemed stiff, and he barely glanced at the drink. Ricki doubted he was used to being waited on, especially in such sleek surroundings.
"Try it," she coaxed Del after the bartender left the room.
He wouldn't meet her gaze. He picked up the drink and took a sip, then set it back on the table.
"Do you like it?" Ricki asked. Given its potency, it wouldn't be long before he felt its effects.
"It's good," he said, looking at the city. "I thought it would be too sweet. But it's not."
"Only the best for you."
His gaze shifted to her. "So I noticed." He watched her with his lashes half lowered, as if he were in bed.
Oh, my. Ricki took another sip, letting her lips linger on the glass, then slowly ran her tongue over the rim. "Go on," she coaxed. "Finish yours."
Del stared at her as she drank. Then he lifted his drink and downed it in one swallow. She started, expecting him to choke, but he just set down the glass.
"Well, that was impressive," Ricki said with a laugh.
Del pushed her glass away from her. "You don't need that." He drew his finger down her hand, from her wrist to the tip of her thumb. It was only the slightest touch, yet that only made it more erotic. The hinge in his hand didn't look strange anymore. She wondered what he could do with it. She turned her hand over so he was trailing his finger across her palm. Then she curled her fingers, capturing his. It wasn't until Del's lips curved upward, slow and tempting, that she realized he had barely smiled tonight. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her palm.
"My people say the moons of Lyshriol are more exquisite than any woman," he told her, his breath warming her skin. Softly he added, "The people who say that have never met you."
Ricki sighed. This boy was going to get himself ravished. "Do you know," she said. "A person could live up here."
"Hmmm." With his eyes closed, Del pressed her palm against his cheek. It was a curiously sweet gesture.
"Would you like to know why?" she asked.
Opening his eyes, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Why?"
"Prime-Nova has a suite here." She sighed as his tongue flicked across her skin. "For tonight . . . it's ours."
Del's lashes lifted. "Does it have a bedroom?"
"Oh, yes," Ricki murmured. She slid off her chair and stood by the table. Del stood as well, and his gaze traveled over her in the most satisfying manner.
* * *
Del knew he should have refused the drink. His meds would render it harmless, and he had taken no drugs for the alcohol to affect anyway, but that didn't matter. He had sworn never to take another drink. But he hadn't wanted to refuse and look even more unsophisticated than Ricki already considered him.
Don't dwell on it. He pushed the thought into the mental recess where he hid the memories he wanted to forget.
Ricki swayed in her slinky dress as she led him across the room. Reaching down, he took her hand. The room lights had dimmed, giving the place an ethereal quality, as if they were floating in the sky. Moonlight poured through the window-wall at their right.
The wall ahead of them looked like blue crystal with silver spirals turning in it, soothing and hypnotic. As they approached, the wall morphed into a curtain of blue light. Ricki took him through into a dim room rippling in subtly erotic swirls of opalescent colors. On the right, another window-wall looked over the city. The covers on the bed to their left glimmered with holographic washes of blue and aqua.
When Ricki stopped by the bed, Del turned her to fa
ce him. Even in her spiked heels, she only came to his chin. As he stroked back her hair, her exotic eyes widened. They had captivated him since the first moment he saw her today. It wasn't only that they were huge, with long lashes, but they were blue. Before coming to Earth, he had never seen that color. They made her look sweeter, innocent, glistening with youth. What he felt from her mind was anything but innocent; she had the sultry desire of an experienced woman. But he also sensed the vulnerability she hid deep within.
Her contradictions fascinated him. Bending his head, he kissed her, taking his time with it. She splayed her hand against his chest, touching his skin where he had left his collar open. Such a simple gesture, but it sent a surge of desire through him. He pulled her closer. He wanted all of her, hard and fast, then sweet and gentle, then both at the same time. Mostly, he wanted to throw her on the bed and rip away that wicked dress.
Except he couldn't get it off. He scraped at the seam that ran down her back, tugged, and pulled, to no avail. Ricki molded against him and walked her fingers up his spine. He wasn't sure what he did, but the dress finally fell open. He pushed it off her shoulders until it slid down to the ground, and she stood in front of him, her long lashes lowered, her skin flushed with health. Well, well. Naughty vid producer. She hadn't worn a shred of underclothes.
"Gods," Del muttered. He ran his knuckles down her cheek and over her lips. She stayed there, letting him look at her. A dusting of gold hair showed in the triangle between her thighs.
"Your turn," she murmured, and stepped closer.
Del helped her pull off his jacket and shirt, but she wouldn't let him do any more. She undid his belt and dropped the rings in a pile on the ground, their metal clinking together. It was maddening the way she unfastened his pants and peeled off his clothes with slow deliberation. When he couldn't take it any more, he yanked her against his body, one arm around her back, his other hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he kissed her.