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  "I have to check on the data you brought back in Irena’s craft." Modifying his speech he lowered his voice. "By now it will have been tabled and made ready for my perusal. Rest. We will talk again later." He gestured to the supplies panel. "Please make use of our commodities bank for anything you require. It will be sent, as the food was. Come, I will show you how to operate it."

  She quickly picked up the required codes for food, clothing and any other needs.

  As he went to the door, she stood looking after him and chewing on her mouth again. Perhaps it was a common trait on Earth to mutilate one’s facial features.

  He stared at her for a moment until she glanced away and then he slid the barrier into place, closing her in.

  Six

  Reve went to his administration room. Irena’s ship had been fumigated, stripped of any disease carrying items. The influenza virus would have been exterminated well before the craft left Earth’s galaxy. What would the Earth woman have to say if she were to learn that the craft could have returned to Amaryllis without her aid? He was certain she would not be pleased if she found out she had been sent here as a specimen for the scientists to study.

  A small pile of items lay on his desk and, picking up each piece and turning it over, he inspected them closely. The Earth woman’s attire. How interesting.

  These small delicate pieces of white seemed to have no use. Their scientists would enjoy studying the structure of the cloth. It was obvious where the thing with two cups and an attached band was meant to go. By why in Bodka’s name would a female want to confine her breast glands in such a garment? And this other small piece like a minuscule pair of breeches would barely cover her buttocks or female mound. Obviously the other two garments were worn over these pieces. One was a tubular concoction that must cover the top of the lower limbs, and the other one fastened at the front, clearly to cover the top half of the body,

  Suddenly gripped by avid curiosity Reve went to his viewing screen and tapped into his quarters.

  Brow creased again, Mel-aanie was staring down at the supplies screen. Then she paced about between the couches and nibbled on one of her fingertips as if in a quandary. With a muttered word he couldn’t recognize she shrugged, then, as if making up her mind, she began to strip.

  His mouth lost all moisture. An urgent need to see her in her earthly clothes assailed him. What would she look like dressed in these strange garments?

  His conscience warned him she would not be pleased to have her privacy invaded. But, as he had informed her, he was the commander of this vessel. On board Victus he was in complete control.

  Not waiting for his conscience to argue further, he de-visualized, transported himself to his quarters and then watched as she stretched out on his bed, now naked. As if unused to sleeping this way, she pulled the soft top covering over herself, tucked it beneath her chin and then sighed as she closed her eyes.

  Reve watched her--found he liked watching her more than was normal for an Amaryllisan. That was no doubt brought about by her differences. The texture of her skin fascinated him, and the way it changed color often was a delight to his senses. Her facial expressions were many and varied, mirroring her thoughts clearly.

  If she saw him as he truly was, he had no doubts she would be terrified. The images Irena had transplanted in Mel-aanie’s brain were of the most perfectly formed inhabitants on Earth. And showed him to her as her deceased partner. At least, as she had said, he had the man’s face. But apparently he did not have this Chris’s body. Reve glanced down at himself, and frowned. The body she saw obviously satisfied her, for she seemed to be as fascinated by it as he was by her.

  Through his eyes, the false image Irena had given her was stripped away. She was nicely rounded, her curves pleasant to look on. Without preamble he transferred just the two small pieces of underclothing to her body and stared down at the breasts, now cradled in the strange Earth garment. So full and luscious. Just the right size for his hands.

  And what hair she had. The color of sand. Irena had made special mention of her hair, so obviously the color had pleased her too. Unable to resist, Reve stooped and ran his fingers through it. So soft, it ran over his hand like a living thing. Almost transfixed he held a strand between two digits and rubbed. Never had he felt anything so fine before. Perhaps the scientists could create a material of this exquisite texture. Without further thought, he took out his cutting implement and snipped a few hairs, which he safely secured in the compartment beneath his wristband.

  She stirred. "Chris," she murmured in her sleep when he knelt at her side.

  "No, it is Reve," he assured her, amazed when a smile curved her generous lips.

  How innocent she looked. Such innocence was a phenomenon to him. All females on Amaryllis were sexually aware and proficient in sharing the delights of their bodies long before they reached their second megnum. Without searching her mind further, Reve knew she had never been truly awakened to the pleasures of the flesh.

  His fingers traced a path over those bountiful breasts and skimmed the plump curves peeping over the fabric. Following a path down the curve of her hip, then lower, he felt a tremor run over her flesh as he touched a spot at the inner part of her thigh. If she was a perfect specimen of an Earth woman, she certainly pleased him. His body was already fully aroused.

  "Mel-aanie," he said softly, watching carefully as her eyelids flickered. What was to stop him being the first male to awaken those sleeping senses?

  Nothing.

  If she perhaps felt the need to berate him when she awoke, there was nothing to stop him declaring she had merely been dreaming. He repeated her name--his passions more aroused when she squirmed beneath his perusal of her body.

  Warm fingertips, as soft as a light breeze, brushed over Melanie’s body. Flushed, her limbs heavy, it seemed that her whole being was filled with a strange languorous heaviness. She shifted and twisted on the bed as she opened her eyes a slit.

  Why was she unsurprised to see the commander standing over her? And how strange. As she ran a calming hand down her body, she realized she wore her undies.

  "What?" she mumbled. She could have sworn she was naked when she’d lain on this bed. Naked, and self-conscious of the state. Perhaps she had walked in her sleep. But then how had she managed to get into her own clothes?

  "Do not worry," he said in a lazy drawl that made her skin break out in goosebumps. Suddenly she wasn’t worried. His voice acted like a soothing drug.

  How like Chris he was. Perhaps this was a dream. And what had happened to Chris, then to her, might have been a nightmare of the worst kind. She would wake up to find things the same as they had been. Would find this had all been a fantasy. Yes, this was the only explanation. Or she had gone mad, had tripped over the edge into a state of limbo.

  "Are you Chris, or Reve?" she whispered and then watched through slit eyes as his hands came to rest on her stomach. They were hot on her flesh. So very hot and yet smooth. And extremely gentle. Somehow she had not expected gentleness from this dream man.

  "I will be whoever you wish me to be," he said, sitting beside her. He wore no clothes. When had he stripped?

  "You have a beautiful body," she found herself saying.

  He smiled. It altered his face, made him look less austere, much more like the Chris she knew and loved. A small whimper tore from her throat when remembrance interfered with her dream. "Chris is dead," she cried on a moan of despair.

  "Hush. Do not torture yourself with these unwelcome thoughts." Reve stroked his finger down her cheek and then along her shoulder. "Relax, Mel-aanie. Let your body rule your mind."

  He brought both knees at her side onto the bed. It seemed as if she was floating mindlessly above the couch. Her body filled with such lightness she was sure she was flying. Slowly and with exquisite gentleness he began once again to caress her, his clever fingers going in long, smooth sweeps from her shoulders to her buttocks and lower to her thighs, her calves then the soles of her feet.

/>   Never had she felt so calm, so completely relaxed, yet so sure of her femininity. How could she allow herself to be caressed by a man she knew was an alien--and a virtual stranger? But she had not the strength to ask him to stop. Besides, what he was doing to her was too pleasurable, filling her with sensations she’d never felt or thought to feel.

  Anyhow, it was just a dream, wasn’t it? Why not let it run its course and see where it led? His hard thighs pressed against hers as he straddled her to release the clasp on her bra. In a moment it had been discarded along with her panties. It was a sweet relief to be naked again, to allow him access to her skin--skin he was bringing to a fiery awareness with each sweep of his fingers.

  A drawn out sigh turned to a small squeak of surprise when she found herself turned onto her stomach. He continued his exploration along each curve of her back, his fingertips working their tender exquisite way over each vertebra in her spine and then over each cheek of her buttock. On his knees he slid down until he held her calves captured between his powerful thighs.

  Melanie heard a soft moan. It had come from her mouth. The man administering such erotic pleasure murmured soft words of encouragement. Words she could not fully understand. Yet without a doubt what they conveyed was that he wanted her, desired her, was on fire for her as she burned for him.

  Suddenly he pushed her legs apart--his fingers sure yet gentle--and then his mouth followed the path his fingers had taken. His tongue, its surface sending jolts of pleasure surging through her from her toes to her scalp, was rough, yet so incredibly filled with a tenderness that stunned her.

  "Please," she begged, unsure of what she was asking. But he knew. Bending to caress her nape with his exquisite tongue, his fingertips found the center of her womanhood. Melanie writhed, lifting herself, allowing him easier access to the part of her on fire for him. Silently she begged with her body for him to end this torment, to fill her, to take her to the place she knew only he was capable of transporting her.

  "I want you inside me…please," she whimpered and he emitted a sound at her ear like a small growl of pleasure.

  "Soon."

  In one swift easy movement he turned her again, and her eyes widened when she saw the look in his eyes. It was feral, primitive, alien. For a moment fear filled her, but it was soon dispelled when his marvelous mouth began another journey of exploration.

  "Do not fear me," he whispered. And she didn’t. "What perfect breasts you have, what delicious curves. Skin so soft. You were made to accept a man’s attentions." He paid homage to her body with his mouth as he praised it with words. On fire for him, Melanie lifted her body, invited, begged, and silently implored him to end this torment, even while she wished it would never end.

  "Please," she pleaded, and his small laugh was filled with male satisfaction.

  His mouth continued to torment as it lingered on the soft flesh of her inner thigh, his breath like a flame, his teeth an agony, yet an ecstasy as his mouth hovered, enticed, then finally ended its journey when it reached its goal.

  Melanie exploded in a burst of sensation. For a moment she thought perhaps she had died as she hovered on a plateau and colors cascaded behind her closed eyelids, a loud buzzing filled her ears. Never had she known such satisfaction; never in her wildest dreams had she thought anything could feel like this. Tremors racked her body as she floated in a wondrous place for what seemed like eons.

  But it wasn’t over yet. For even as she descended from the level of erotic pleasure where he had taken her, he was whispering endearments, as he filled her in one wild ecstatic plunge. Melanie welcomed him, lifted to accommodate him, wrapped him within her limbs, and joined with him in the rhythm he set.

  His whispered words made her body sing. The way he touched her brought her to fever pitch. Arching to meet his every thrust, she cried out in abandon, sobbing words of ecstasy, caring not who heard. His groans were smothered as he buried his mouth in the juncture of her neck, his teeth a kind of torture, yet a welcomed one as he sucked hard.

  When they reached the pinnacle of perfection, she left her body, floated on a cloud of endless delight while he said her name, hoarsely, in what sounded to her, a stunned voice.

  When she lay replete, so satiated she felt boneless, she sighed his name, and with a jolt of shock realized she had murmured, "Reve." Her eyes flew open. To find she was alone, naked, and covered by the soft blanket.

  Her body thrummed, her pulses beat a heavy tattoo. She ran her hand over her stomach, covered in a layer of perspiration. Melanie sat up, staring about her in consternation. Could it have been a dream? No way in the world would she have let a man who was a stranger, and an alien to boot, make such erotic love to her.

  It was a dream; it had to be.

  But it had seemed so real. Never had she experienced such a climax. Except for the last night with Chris, she had barely known what it was to have an orgasm. Much as she loved him, Chris had always left her feeling as if something was missing. Now she knew it most definitely had been.

  Sweet heavens, that was what it was all about. No wonder women who were satisfied sexually went on about it. She’d presumed they had vivid imaginations.

  Flopping back with a soft grunt, Melanie closed her eyes. It must have been because she was sleeping in Reve’s bed. Knowing his body slept here where she now lay had more than likely made her brain concoct such unbelievable scenes.

  Or could they have some sort of erotic sex machine built into their headboards here? Guaranteed to give you satisfaction every time. A small giggle burst forth at this idea. Wow, if she slept in his bed every night, she would soon be worn down to a frazzle. Then another thought hit her. If he could be such a lover in her dreams, what would he be like in reality? Heavens above, supposing he could read this in her mind. How could she face him? Groaning, Melanie buried her face in the swan’s-down soft pillow.

  "Have you rested?"

  His voice, deep and sexy, came through a small vent near her ear. Melanie sat up smartly, pulling the cover over her breasts. She went hot all over--could feel the color running up her throat and racing over her face.

  "Yes. How…how long was I asleep?"

  "A short time. But long enough to regain your energy." Reve’s tone was as bland as ever.

  Melanie shook herself; her dreams were her affair. He had no idea how he’d figured in her dreams. Dear lord, she hoped he didn't.

  Long enough to regain her energy? What a joke. She’d been using more energy than she’d used in a lifetime in the past few minutes. Or was it hours? With a shake of the head, she wrapped the soft blanket about her, securing it under her armpits as she put her feet to the floor. "I’ll just refresh," she muttered.

  "You know how to operate the cleansing chamber?"

  She was sure his voice held a husky note. Or could he be on the brink of laughter?

  "I think so." She went to a panel alongside the vanity bench. "This is it, isn’t it?" She touched the glowing light just about shoulder level.

  The panel slid back to reveal a cubicle. It wasn’t much different to her en-suite back home. Except the walls were of what looked like stainless steel, and there were no taps, soap dishes, or towel rails.

  "Yes. You need my help with the adjustments?"

  Now she knew he was being provocative. "Just tell me what color to press for water and which for drying," she snapped.

  "Let me see." He paused as if thinking. "I have no idea what you would call the color on your…left," he said then.

  "It’s sort of yellow." She touched a finger to it.

  "Ah, yellow. This one is for water. It contains cleansing lotions. The other is for drying."

  Melanie looked down at the knee-high bowl shaped similar to a bidet. "I take it this is the toilet."

  "Correct." He sounded amused again. "You seem to have it all under control. Enjoy your bathing, Mel-aanie."

  Melanie was beneath the warm spray when it occurred to her he’d answered her question about the loo, and the water outlet
, when she’d merely pointed. How the hell had he known what she meant?

  Looking about, she shivered as she instinctively covered her breasts and the curls at the juncture of her thighs as best she could with her hands and arms. "Reve?" she called in a shaky voice, "Can you see me?"

  Silence, except for the gentle rush of water.

  Melanie shrugged. If he wanted to be a peeping Tom, so be it. She let her hands trace over the places her dream lover had wandered, over each breast, then lower to her stomach, then down her hips and across to her bottom. The cleansing lotions, whatever they were, made her skin feel like satin beneath her splayed fingers. Her body felt sensitized, alive as never before. With a shocked gasp she dropped her wandering hands to her sides. Good lord! Perhaps she’d become a nymphomaniac.

  This planet was having an extraordinary effect on her. The sooner she returned to Earth the better.

  Suddenly that prospect didn’t hold as much charm as it had a few hours ago. To leave Amaryllis and never see Reve again, never feel the sensuous touch of those eyes, so dark and searing, on her. The thought sent a shiver of dread through her. How could she have become so attracted to him in such a short time? It was impossible.

  Melanie grimaced and pressed the button to stop the flow of water. She’d become attracted to the man who had taken over her body in her dream...not the real thing.

  Reve was an alien, for God’s sake. He might have the power to seduce her in her sleep; there was no way he could ever do the same while she had her wits about her. No sir!

  Seven

  "I see you have found your way around the commodities supplier."

  Melanie swallowed a mouthful of graw juice and nearly choked on it. It was scary how the man moved as silently as a panther on the prowl.

  "I didn’t hear you come in." She glanced at him then quickly away. "Yes. Was it all right? I thought I’d give the capir meat a try. It tastes a lot like our chicken." Her voice sounded breathy and forced, and she gave herself a sharp silent reprimand as she waved the small pie she held in her fingers. It was a sort of doughy green cake with meat inside it.