Finding the Zero-G Spot Read online

  Finding the Zero G Spot

  Guardians of Time Adventure 2

  Sahara Kelly

  PROLOGUE

  Sometime in the 13th Century, in a quiet Scottish valley…Monday evening…

  The sound of Laird Rhuadhri McAllen reaching his satisfaction yet again rolled across the hillside and brought a proud smile to the lips of his men who were resting quietly around their small campfire.

  Indeed, their Laird was a man of unsurpassable passions, able to satisfy more women and come to his own peak more times than the rest of them put together.

  They had sated their lusts with their own women, who were scattered exhaustedly throughout the camp; only those who wanted to bed the Laird remained alert, gathered in a small knot some distance away.

  The Laird himself had retired to seize a small amount of privacy for his pleasure within a patch of shrubbery. His bedmates waited their turns, eager hands tugging at gowns and straightening braids.

  There was an air of contentment circling the small crowd, the remains of a good meal warming on the stones at the edge of the fire and horns of local uisge beatha being passed from man to man.

  Looking at the sight, none would have guessed that each man present knew his fate. That the following morn would bring a battle so fierce that it was almost certain to end their lives.

  The warriors knew that the villainous rogues who had burned their homes and seized their lands were better armed and possessed a greater force. They refused to lie down and surrender, believing that to die fighting for a just cause was better than living under another’s heel.

  The Laird had been forced to agree.

  He had no other choice than to accept the pledge given to him by these men, even though he’d rather have found another way. A way that would have kept his friends alive. He had made sure they understood that for himself, he didn’t care. He had no bairns, no woman waiting for him.

  He’d given them choices. To leave, to run, to hide deep in the misty vales of their beloved land.

  Not one of these choices was acceptable to these fierce and proud men whose hearts refused to take the easy way out.

  They would follow Laird Rhuadri, the red-haired lord, into battle for what they believed in. And if it meant their deaths, then so be it. The women were to leave before sunrise along with the elders and the young, and be far away before the day’s deeds were done. The loose ends were tied up, the last meal enjoyed, and all that remained was the cheering sound of their Laird as he eased his body with his women and made them all proud to be part of his clan.

  At that particular moment, Mairie MacGregor was the recipient of the Laird’s seed, her cry of fulfillment preceding his by mere seconds. This night saw the Laird remaining deep within a woman’s sheath as he spurted his essence into her. It was the first time anyone could remember him doing so. Since he’d learned about lovemaking he had always withdrawn and spent himself outside his lover. His women agreed it was a mark of his respect for them.

  But tonight, all the women waiting for the Laird prayed that this bedding would find them fertile. That they would be able to birth a bonny red-haired child some nine months hence.

  For it was sure that there would be few men of their clan left to do the job after the morrow’s battle.

  The moon finally set and a solid darkness settled over the land. The Laird had done his duty. Seven women had been rendered boneless with pleasure and had experienced the honor of receiving the Laird’s seed deep into their wombs.

  Yet now, by choice, he rested alone, the women gone to their well-earned sleep. Wakeful and unsettled, he lay swathed in his plaids, watching the stars as they flickered and twinkled in the crisp air of this fateful highland night.

  “You cannot sleep, Laird McAllen?”

  The quiet voice startled Rory and he reached for his sword, only to find his body held immobile. A soft light gathered at his side and he struggled to turn his head a little in that direction.

  As the light coalesced, a figure took shape. A tall figure, dressed in soft robes, with long hair tied back and very unusual eyes the color of a turquoise sea.

  “Rest easy, Laird. I mean you no harm.”

  The voice was soothing to Rory’s ears and instead of being alarmed and ready for battle, Rory found his heart slowing and his mind clearing of its incessant worries.

  “Who…who…are ye?” he asked hesitantly.

  “I am called the Guardian,” the man answered. “But who I am is not as important as why I am here.”

  “Ye’re here to foretell my death,” said Rory. The knowledge of his imminent demise was engraved within his brain.

  “Well, yes and no.”

  Rory blinked. “I beg yer pardon?”

  “Sort of. You will sort of die tomorrow.”

  Rory shook his head. “Laddie, there is no ‘sort of’ about it. Ye’re either alive or ye’re dead. Ye canna be in between.”

  The Guardian smiled. “Well, actually, laddie, you can. And I’m here to offer you that choice.”

  Rory’s head swam with the words. This must be some awful nightmare he’d fallen into. Damn, he just knew that little Janet Douglas had slipped something into the uisge beatha. Otherwise her breasts would never have seemed so big, and he wouldn’t be talking with an idiot ghost. Or whatever it was.

  He sighed. “Can ye no go away and let me spend ma last night on God’s sweet earth in peace?”

  “But you’re not in peace, Rory. We’ve established that. And God’s good earth is why I’m here. God’s good galaxy, actually.”

  The man knelt down beside Rory and stared deep into his eyes. Rory shivered as the intensity of the man’s gaze pierced through his confusion.

  “Rory McAllen, the universe needs you. Needs your skills with your cock and the sharpness of your brain. I am here to offer you the chance to serve all of humanity and a couple of other species you haven’t heard of yet. Few men get this chance, so think carefully before you answer.”

  Rory frowned, trying to understand what was happening. Soft fingers of light began to brush the eastern horizon and he knew dawn was on its way. His last dawn. He shivered again, but not with cold this time.

  “You will take to the field, this day, Laird McAllen, and you will fight with honor alongside your men. A few will survive. You will not be one of them.”

  Rory swallowed, the unaccustomed sting of tears filling his eyes. He didn’t want to die. Not yet.

  “If you agree to my suggestion, then your men will see you fall in battle. But instead of dying, you will be whisked away from here to another place, where you will be taught how to live a new kind of existence and how to put your skills to good use where they are needed most. I will take you to Anyela. To the Guardians of Time.”

  * * * * *

  A planet in another dimension, where Time doesn’t matter.

  Tuesday…

  The woman stood in front of the tall tree, staring intensely at the small blue flower buds.

  She blinked in the bright sunshine and shook her head a little, as if to clear her mind.

  Soft bird songs trilled around her, and the sound of the breeze as it rustled the lush foliage around the small jungle were the only noises to break the stillness.

  Her eyes took in the odd tangle of low branches that just cleared the tall grass and wildflowers that bloomed with such profusion.

  Suddenly, she gasped. “Oh my God. I remember…Paul. I remember!”

  Alana West Guardino turned and hurried across the tiled paths of Anyela in search of her husband. She found him within seconds and he clutched her shoulders and held her tight.

  “I remember, Paul. I remember everything. You, the tree, and…and…Paul, where are they?”

>   The tall, distinguished looking man laughed. “Right here, waiting for you, sweetheart. They’ve remembered too.” His dark chocolate-colored eyes twinkled at her.

  He turned and two men stepped out from behind him.

  One was impossibly gorgeous, with blond hair that caught the sunshine and reflected it back in a vastly improved state. His glistening blue eyes were full of emotions as he gazed at her with laughter on his face.

  The other was slightly taller, with chestnut brown hair and dark eyes that were about to devour her. A smile played around his handsome mouth as it widened to show his whiter-than-white teeth.

  She shivered, half-smiled, and then burst into tears as she opened her arms and gathered them close.

  Alana West Guardino had found her genies.

  Hari and Sami were back in Alana’s arms.

  The Guardian sighed, shrugged his shoulders and waited for his wife to stop crying. She’d been doing it a lot recently. Understandable, of course, seeing as their child was making its presence felt within her body in a variety of quite amazing ways.

  His loins stirred and his heart thudded at the thought of Alana’s swollen belly and wonderfully enlarged breasts. Breasts that he’d toyed with just this morning. Well, that was neither here nor there, and seeing as he’d changed into his Anyelan silks, he considered that an obvious erection would probably spoil his attempt at a dignified appearance.

  And God knew he was going to have to be dignified. This crisis that had occasioned their return to Anyela needed some careful handling. Which was why he’d been called in the first place, although not why he’d succumbed to Alana’s entreaties to let her accompany him.

  Truthfully, he just didn’t want to be apart from her. Especially not now, when he could feel their child begin to move within her belly, touch the new life that they’d created and know that the little foot that thumped his back at night was part of them both.

  The sobbing and sniffling and hugging had given way to excited chattering as Hari and Sami and Alana exchanged news and laughter.

  Theirs had been an adventure of extraordinary proportions, and the Guardian leaned against a tree, prepared to allow them some time to become reacquainted.

  Time passed at a different rate here in Anyela, and both Hari and Sami had settled down contentedly with their wives and had families of their own. Thanks largely to Alana and her intricately devious way of thinking.

  The Guardian’s lips curved as he watched both men laughing with his wife. They gently stroked the swollen belly and excitedly found a slight movement beneath the skin.

  When the roving hands began to explore other changes in Alana’s body, he judged that it was time to put an end to the reunion. He cleared his throat.

  It acted like a gunshot on Hari and Sami, who jumped into the air and away from Alana.

  “I’m sorry, Guardian…”stuttered Sami, looking helplessly at Hari.

  “We…we…just…I mean, she’s…” Hari did no better.

  “Oh can it, guys. Paul knows how we feel about each other. Right, honey?” Alana crossed to her husband and grinned up at him, running her fingers up his arm and hitting that exact spot that never failed to make him shiver.

  The joy he knew she felt in seeing her genies was nothing in comparison to the love that the Guardian saw shining in her eyes—for him.

  He relaxed.

  “I should have expected as much. You three turned this place on its ears last time you were here,” he said dryly.

  Hari and Sami smiled politely, but Alana chuckled.

  “Well, damn it, it needed a good shaking up. Things were pretty medieval. Now look at them…” And she waved her hand at the two men who were blushing slightly and managing to look rather proud at the same time.

  The Guardian looked. Hari and Sami had become Pro Tem Guardians, exchanging their ceremonial robes for their regular dress once their services for that period were concluded. The Guardianship now rotated amongst the elders and those best qualified. It ensured a continual stream of wisdom mixed with enthusiasm, and added a dash of creativity to the solutions needed.

  And his wife had started the process. The wife that was now back in Hari’s and Sami’s arms, stroking them to make sure they were real.

  The Guardian sighed again, and steered the laughing group down the path toward the Temple of Time. They were well on their way to completely forgetting why they were here, and it was vital they get to the problem in hand and solve it rapidly.

  He and Alana had only been in Anyela for a few hours, and already he’d realized that if ever they could have used a genuine Magic Lamp, this was the moment.

  * * * * *

  Alana was beside herself with happiness.

  It had been three years since she’d met Paul Guardino on her doorstep, two since they’d married, one since they’d moved to the small vineyard they tended with such loving care during the summers when Paul wasn’t teaching at the local university, and four months since they’d heard the good news about their baby.

  She figured that meant it had to have been over three years since she’d fucked Hari and Sami.

  Of course, figuring in the interdimensional thing, it could be more like three thousand.

  They neared the elegant temple and the men became quieter, more somber and she could see how assuming the burden of “Guardian” had affected each of them. Sami’s smile looked a little weary at times, Hari’s face fell into calm, thoughtful lines, and Paul?

  Well, she couldn’t even look at him without getting a major case of the screaming thigh sweats, no matter how somber he appeared. God, she loved him so much, and was so thankful that they were together.

  Hari and Sami had shown her more of lust and passion than she could ever have imagined, but above everything they’d brought her Paul. Her heart, her soul and her mate. For eternity.

  She sighed as they crossed a quiet courtyard and entered the Temple together.

  “You all right, Alana-love?” Hari’s deep voice caressed her ear and brought an appreciative smile to her lips.

  “Couldn’t be better, Hari,” she grinned back. “Just point me to a big chair and let me sit for a while, before my ankles decide to go on vacation and leave me with knees all the way down to my feet.”

  “Consider it done,” added Sami, coming up and taking her arm.

  Paul smiled his thanks. The two men gently steered Alana to a comfortable couch, then all three went to mingle with the other Guardians and elders.

  Alana watched. All they needed was the open hood of a ‘57 Chevy and it would have been a perfect testosterone moment. Hmmm.

  Her eyes turned to the open window next to her and she let her gaze roam over the beauty that was Anyela. Tucked into a space where time ceased and the universe held its breath, this world was one of color, light, warmth and happiness.

  It was also one that bore a heavy responsibility, because it was here that the Guardians of Time lived up to their names.

  Paul had shown Alana the focal point of the Temple just after they had arrived.

  In the center of a large chamber within the enormous building was a circular dais. It was about table height, but was open, and looking down into it was like looking down into the center of a firework, or a star, or the pulsing heart of a newly hatched galaxy.

  Threads of time ran next to each other, most running smoothly and efficiently. They shot cascades of dazzling sparks into the eyes of the observer, yet they were not blinding to look at, and close observation yielded very distinct timelines.

  And occasionally, as with all things, something went wrong. A knot was formed, and that was when the Guardians were called upon to remove or repair the offending incident and put time back on track where it was supposed to be.

  Apparently, there was now a knot. One that they thought they might be able to repair, but it was very complex. And in addition, there was the problem of the newest recruit to the ranks of Anyelan genies.

  No genie had ever failed the training,
and the fact that it looked as if one was about to do so was adding to the burdens shouldered by the Guardians.

  A tall man caught Alana’s attention as she let her mind wander over great cosmological concepts with the fleeting touch of a dust bunny. She was the first to admit that to her the idea of time and space meant having time to clear a space in her closet. And she’d disgusted Paul by consistently dozing as he’d devoured the multi-DVD set of Carl Sagan’s epic Cosmos series she’d bought him for Christmas last year.

  Not for her the grandiose theories of cosmologists.

  But she’d never lost her eye for a handsome man. And this one? Well, wow might have worked. If it had been uttered through full home theater amplification with all woofers and tweeters cranked up to the max.

  He was taller by at least a head than anyone sharing his path, and that head carried a massive fall of dark red hair.

  She couldn’t see from this distance, but she’d bet her non-existent booties that his eyes were green.

  His shoulders were huge, Schwarzenegger-type huge, and she noticed he disdained the light silks of the other residents in favor of a tartan wrapped around his hips.

  She giggled. An honest-to-God sort of kilt, plaid tossed over a broad chest and all. She wondered if any brave woman had dared ask the question about what he had under there. Although, upon reflection, Alana realized that here in Anyela the concept of underwear was alien, and the question irrelevant.

  Too bad. Too, too bad.

  Chapter One

  Laird Rhuadhri McAllen, or Rory as everyone called him here, strode through the main square in Anyela, wondering for the thousandth time what the blazes he was doing in this strange place.

  Oh it was lovely. No doubt about that.

  The flowers, the colors, the people…all defied description. He’d had knowledge inserted into his brain that would have stunned his fellow Scotsmen into a coma. He could now quote somebody named Einstein and had a passing knowledge of planets on the outer rim of the galaxy.

  He was familiar with poetry, literature and science, and thanks to a small implant, could speak forty-seven different languages and had lost most of his Scottish burr.