Read Online Lord of Lightning by Suzanne Forster - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Forster
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scare you, Lise, but I really don’t think you should see him again.”
“Stephen? Why?”
“You know the exhibit at the Fairchild Museum? The display of Eskimo fertility artifacts? Well, two of them are missing. The first one disappeared Sunday evening; the second, yesterday—”
“Somebody’s stealing Eskimo art? Why?”
“ Fertility statues, Lise. And it’s obvious why. To gain knowledge of the mating habits of humans.”
Lise heaved a sigh. “Since Margaret Mead is long departed, you must be referring to the guy who wants to repopulate his planet, right?”
“Who else? Were statues disappearing before he got here?”
“Julie, really—”
“ Lise, I’m worried about you. He’s picked you out for some reason. Maybe he’s going to alter you genetically and turn you into his termite queen or something. You know, a one-woman breeding farm.”
“Oh, thanks—”
Lise’s dry comment was lost in the roar of a car engine. The pickup truck screeched to a halt behind the Volkswagen. It was followed closely by Lise’s Cordoba.
Lise swung around and glared out the rear window. “I wish those yahoos wouldn’t drive like that, especially with my car.”
“What are you going to do about this guy?” Julie pressed.
Lise hesitated, debating that very question. What was she going to do about Stephen Gage? A moment later she turned to her teaching assistant and said quietly, “I’m going to ask him to help us with the class’s science project.”
“What? Why?”
“Because winning the scholarship could prove to the school board that our school has merit. That our kids don’t need to be bussed to a larger community. Besides, I don’t know how to build a minimetrorail, do you?”
Julie slapped a hand to her head, apparently flabbergasted. “Oh, Lord, this is worse than I thought. He’s taken control of her mind.”
Five
S TEPHEN STOOD ON THE porch of the cabin, his eyes following the rutted dirt road to the place where it curved west toward the highway and was swallowed up by a tunnel of sycamore trees. Three cars had disappeared down that road several moments before, but dust continued to swirl up in little cyclones, golden devils that couldn’t find a place to settle.
Restless energy, he thought, feeling a swirl of sensation in the reaches of his stomach. The woman had stirred up more than dust in her wake. She had made him restless too. He could feel it gathering inside him, creating its own faint, sweet suction, another kind of dust devil. Desire.
Irony brought a smile to his lips. The past had taught him a survival skill—self-control. He had honed it the way a bodybuilder defines his outer musculature—armored himself against emotion, punished himself. And yet despite everything he’d done, it was coming back, that raging need to make love to a woman, he’d held in check for so long. It was stealing into his thoughts, plaguing him with dark impulses.
He wanted like hell to give into it. But he couldn’t.
It could destroy him this time. It could destroy everything he’d come here to do. Experience had taught him that physical desire was an illusion. The forces behind it were as seductive as the dust devil—and as deadly as the eye of a storm. He’d been caught by those forces before, and the result had been tragic.
Every sane instinct he possessed told him to stay away from Lise Anderson. Physically she was too desirable. Emotionally she was too quick to protest the slightest touch, and too transparently eager for more than touching. A dangerous mix for a man in his state of mind and body.
And yet something about her, something even beyond the physical, drew him. An odd sense of destiny struck him as he considered the risk she represented—and its ultimate implications. Perhaps the choice wasn’t his to make. His mind began to stir, picking up the restless whisperings of his body. Perhaps she was the reason he was here ...
He heard a rustling in the tree above him, and
“Stephen? Why?”
“You know the exhibit at the Fairchild Museum? The display of Eskimo fertility artifacts? Well, two of them are missing. The first one disappeared Sunday evening; the second, yesterday—”
“Somebody’s stealing Eskimo art? Why?”
“ Fertility statues, Lise. And it’s obvious why. To gain knowledge of the mating habits of humans.”
Lise heaved a sigh. “Since Margaret Mead is long departed, you must be referring to the guy who wants to repopulate his planet, right?”
“Who else? Were statues disappearing before he got here?”
“Julie, really—”
“ Lise, I’m worried about you. He’s picked you out for some reason. Maybe he’s going to alter you genetically and turn you into his termite queen or something. You know, a one-woman breeding farm.”
“Oh, thanks—”
Lise’s dry comment was lost in the roar of a car engine. The pickup truck screeched to a halt behind the Volkswagen. It was followed closely by Lise’s Cordoba.
Lise swung around and glared out the rear window. “I wish those yahoos wouldn’t drive like that, especially with my car.”
“What are you going to do about this guy?” Julie pressed.
Lise hesitated, debating that very question. What was she going to do about Stephen Gage? A moment later she turned to her teaching assistant and said quietly, “I’m going to ask him to help us with the class’s science project.”
“What? Why?”
“Because winning the scholarship could prove to the school board that our school has merit. That our kids don’t need to be bussed to a larger community. Besides, I don’t know how to build a minimetrorail, do you?”
Julie slapped a hand to her head, apparently flabbergasted. “Oh, Lord, this is worse than I thought. He’s taken control of her mind.”
Five
S TEPHEN STOOD ON THE porch of the cabin, his eyes following the rutted dirt road to the place where it curved west toward the highway and was swallowed up by a tunnel of sycamore trees. Three cars had disappeared down that road several moments before, but dust continued to swirl up in little cyclones, golden devils that couldn’t find a place to settle.
Restless energy, he thought, feeling a swirl of sensation in the reaches of his stomach. The woman had stirred up more than dust in her wake. She had made him restless too. He could feel it gathering inside him, creating its own faint, sweet suction, another kind of dust devil. Desire.
Irony brought a smile to his lips. The past had taught him a survival skill—self-control. He had honed it the way a bodybuilder defines his outer musculature—armored himself against emotion, punished himself. And yet despite everything he’d done, it was coming back, that raging need to make love to a woman, he’d held in check for so long. It was stealing into his thoughts, plaguing him with dark impulses.
He wanted like hell to give into it. But he couldn’t.
It could destroy him this time. It could destroy everything he’d come here to do. Experience had taught him that physical desire was an illusion. The forces behind it were as seductive as the dust devil—and as deadly as the eye of a storm. He’d been caught by those forces before, and the result had been tragic.
Every sane instinct he possessed told him to stay away from Lise Anderson. Physically she was too desirable. Emotionally she was too quick to protest the slightest touch, and too transparently eager for more than touching. A dangerous mix for a man in his state of mind and body.
And yet something about her, something even beyond the physical, drew him. An odd sense of destiny struck him as he considered the risk she represented—and its ultimate implications. Perhaps the choice wasn’t his to make. His mind began to stir, picking up the restless whisperings of his body. Perhaps she was the reason he was here ...
He heard a rustling in the tree above him, and
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