Page 3 of Escape Velocity

Chapter Two

He stared at blue eyes like twin swazi pools framed by thick lashes, a delicate face, a perfect little nose, and lips that held the promise of sensuality.

“Sagan’s balls. What the hell is going on?” Max growled. Those trolls keep gorgeous women captive?”

She made a scoffing sound. “Do not mock my ugliness.”

Max struggled to make sense of the absolute conviction in her voice. “You are not ugly. Far from it.”

She kept her gaze on his face. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“No.”

He saw her grappling with his words—and his reaction. “On Naxion, I am one of the unfortunates—a hideous parody of my race.”

He grimaced. “Maybe on Naxion, but not in the rest of the known universe.”

She stared at him, taking in his features, then raised her hand and touched the blade of his nose, the skin of his face, running her finger over the stubble on his cheek, the curve of his upper lip, sending a shiver through him. Her voice had taken on a note of wonder as she said, “You have no beauty bumps.”

“Beauty bumps! Is that what they call them?”

“Yes.”

“Thank the gods I don’t.”

“This is not a dream?” she whispered.

“No. It looks like I rescued you from a nightmare.”

She nodded slowly, as he asked, “But why are you different from the rest of them?”

She looked down at her small, white hands and spoke in a low voice. “I do not know. I was from a highborn family, but when I failed to develop properly, I was sold into slavery.”

He whistled through his teeth. “You are saying everyone starts out with smooth skin—like yours and mine?”

“Yes.”

He thought about how it could happen—and an explanation struck him. “Then I’m guessing there’s some virus or bacteria in the air or water on your planet.”

Her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“Most people catch a disease and get ugly. Since there’s nothing they can do about it, they flip the notion of normal on its head and punish the ones who have natural immunity—who escape the disfigurement.”

Her eyes widened. “You call it . . .. But on Naxion, I am a slave, only good to be worked to death. What am I in the rest of the universe?”

“Like I told you, a very beautiful woman.”

The shuttle had reached the ship and docked with a small vibration.

He made sure the air locks were in alignment, then opened the hatch.

“I thought your ship was so small.”

“This is only the shuttle,” he answered as he helped her inside before pressing the mechanism that slid the ferry craft to its bay on the underside of the Golden Fleece.

“We cannot linger here,” she said. “They may shoot at you.”

“Why? I paid them.”

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