A Warrior's Desire. Pamela Palmer

sky low, glowing like a dark orange dome over a colorful yet barren terrain. A few clumps of straggly trees or bushes and a scattering of jewel-colored rocks were all that relieved the hilly expanse of blue, royal blue, dirt. Except for the small patch of vibrant pink flowers he’d managed to land upon.

      He sat up, then slowly rose to his feet, adjusting the bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, his senses alert, his gaze searching for sign of trouble. But the land was utterly quiet. He was alone.

      Tarrys.

      His gaze searched for her even as he knew she wouldn’t still be here. A tiny regret had him wishing he’d at least had a moment to say goodbye. Maybe he could have snagged himself a kiss for good luck.

      Right.

      Sounds began to rise around him, sounds he’d probably silenced with his arrival. Insects, if he had to guess, but unlike any he’d ever heard before—odd clicks, musical screeches, and a host of others, pitched both high and low. He hoped to God they were merely insects and not something that might decide to put him on the dinner menu.

      A chill slid down his spine, part excitement, part reaction to the total unknown. What dangers lurked in this place that he might never know existed until too late?

      With a start, he realized the flowers had disappeared. All that remained beneath his feet was a tuft of orange-and-gold grass.

      Jesus.

      He looked around, trying to get his bearings, needing to figure out which way to go. Where was the gate? His gut clenched with the sharp realization that it didn’t matter. Even if he stayed here and waited for the gate to open in a month, he couldn’t get through. Not without help. There was no turning back. The only way he’d ever get home was hand in hand with the princess herself. Anything less and he’d never see home again.

      Which was precisely the reason he wouldn’t fail.

      Determination surged into the flow of adrenaline firing his body and he grinned. God, he loved a challenge. But as he looked for his first landmark, the twin peaks of the red mountains, a sound reached his ears, beneath the clicks and squeals of the night creatures, that had ice forming in his blood.

      The sound of voices. Human voices.

      No, not human.

      Esri.

       Chapter 3

      Charlie tensed, his mind scrambling as he listened to the low, unintelligible voices drawing nearer. Esri voices. From the sound of them, they were just below the rise, less than twenty yards away. Three Esri, he’d guess. Maybe four. By the time he knew for sure, they’d be able to see him. And he couldn’t kill them, unfortunately. He might be able to outrun them, but a human-looking Royal Guard running from the gate was going to look damned suspicious. No, the only thing to do was hide and pray none of them possessed a gift that would sense him. He scanned the area and spied a nearby thicket of low, bloodred bushes that might do the trick. It would have to. Using skills honed as a SEAL, he ran across the hard-packed dirt to the bushes without making a sound. As he ducked low within the center of the soft, fuzzy branches, a flurry of winged insects took to the air, like a spray of raindrops flying skyward.

      Wishing for some red camouflage paint, Charlie took a deep breath and concentrated on quieting his thudding heart. Calm. Steady. He looked back the way he’d come and nearly had a heart attack. A narrow path of that same thick rust-and-gold grass led straight to him. Grass that hadn’t been there a moment ago, as if it had followed him. It was going to lead them right to him!

      The grass disappeared.

      Charlie blinked. Shit. Nothing remained of the grass except the tuft beneath his feet. He reached down to feel the stuff and had gotten nothing more than the fleeting impression that it felt like the grass at home when the grass disappeared and he once more found himself on a bed of tiny pink flowers.

      Charlie’s skin raced with goose bumps. Kade had warned him that the two worlds didn’t follow the same laws of nature. He’d laugh at the understatement if he weren’t quite so shaken.

      The nearing voices pulled his attention away from the insta-garden beneath his feet and again he prayed none of the Esri possessed the ability to sense his energy. While every Esri had certain baseline abilities, each had unique gifts as well. Hell, most of their human descendants … the Sitheen … did too, with the unfortunate exception of his own line. Neither he nor Harrison had any special talents except for the inability to be enchanted which, all things considered, was really all that mattered.

      Still, it would have been nice to have had some magic at his disposal. Larsen foresaw death. Jack could speak with his Sitheen ancestors. Myrtle was a healer of prodigious skill. The Esri, Baleris, had been able to smell the power stones. And Zander, the Esri Kade had killed, had been able to sense power in others.

      If any of the approaching Esri possessed that ability, he was in trouble. Because if they could smell power, even the low-level power of a human’s life force, they’d know he was here.

      Pale heads broke the level of the rise. Charlie watched, barely breathing, as three male Esri wearing the same silver tunics and black cloaks he himself wore came fully into view. One of the three possessed the startling whiteness of both hair and skin that he’d come to associate with true Esri, but the other two just looked deathly pale. All three were fairly tall with lanky, rangy builds. Their hair varied in shade from stark white to white-blond.

      Though the air temperature was comfortable, a trickle of sweat rolled down Charlie’s neck as the trio neared, speaking Esrian gibberish. If they caught him, he was going to have to decide whether to run or grunt and thump his chest and hope they backed off, though why they’d be afraid of someone who’d been hiding in the bushes, he couldn’t fathom.

      The Esri neared, their voices growing louder. Clearer. With a jolt, Charlie realized he was starting to understand snatches of what they were saying. “… gate … nearby …” “… must have closed …” “… King Rith … displeased.”

      Goose bumps rippled over his skin. He was beginning to understand Esrian. Had he inherited a gift from his Esri ancestor after all? Or was this newfound ability just part of the magic of this world? Kade had warned him to expect anything. He’d been expecting the worst, but speaking the language was a huge plus.

      “We are not even certain the gate is here,” said the shortest and whitest of the three Esri.

      “I felt it.” The speaker’s face was rounder, his hair thick with straw-blond waves. “When it opens again, I will know.”

      The first man made a noise of dismay. “That won’t happen for another cycle.”

      “So we wait.”

      Charlie gave a mental groan. Don’t wait here. If they settled in, he was sunk.

      But the men never stopped, never glanced his way, just continued to walk toward the hills. Finally, when they were but a speck on the horizon, Charlie crept out of the bushes and headed the other way.

      He was being followed.

      Charlie picked up his pace as he crossed the rocky, hilly blue terrain, the rust-and-gold grass appearing beneath his feet with every step and disappearing a few steps behind him. The grass had entertained him for a while after he escaped the Esri at the gate.

      He’d been so distracted by the grass, he hadn’t noticed when he’d first picked up the tail.

      The trees had grown more numerous the farther he traveled from the gate, thin patches of woods cropping up here and there, the trees resembling those in his world only in their basic shape. They had trunks and branches and leaves. But the trunks were blue or green or some combination, some shimmery as satin, others spiked with thorns. And the leaves looked like an autumn forest with the color turned up two hundred percent. Reds, golds, oranges as bright as crayons from a coloring box.

      Unfortunately, scattered everywhere were bushes and