The footsteps sounded closer, more ominous. Lainey picked up her pace a little, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. She knew who was following her. She'd passed the two punks about half a block back. One of them had made a crude remark as she went by, and then they'd fallen into step behind her, their words growing more lewd, more suggestive.

She glanced around, looking for help, but there was no one else to be seen. The stores she passed were all closed, and now she was approaching a vacant lot.

Fear made her stomach queasy and coated her palms with sweat.

What to do, what to do? She knew instinctively that she couldn't outrun them even as she knew that running would only whet their appetite for the kill.

Oh, Lord, she was so afraid! Every lurid tale of rape and murder she'd ever read about in the papers rose up to haunt her, making an abduction by an alien seem almost tame in comparison.

I'm coming, Lainey.

His voice cut through her fear as cleanly as a knife through butter.

Hurry, please hurry! The silent plea screamed inside her mind.

And then he was there, rounding the corner ahead of her.

"Micah!" She sobbed his name, tears of relief welling in her eyes as he pulled her up against him, sheltering her against the indomitable wall of his chest.

The two young toughs who had been following her came to an abrupt halt.

Lainey's breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at them. They both wore the distinctive colors of a local gang. One of them, a kid of about sixteen clad in baggy pants and a loose-fitting black shirt, held a gun in his hand. Held it as if he'd been born with it. The other boy, who was perhaps a year or two younger, casually tossed a switchblade from one hand to the other.

"Hey, she's ours, man," the kid with the gun said.

"No," Micah replied, his voice loud and clear. "She is mine."

"If you won't give her to us, we'll just have to take her."

Micah shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Uglyand stupid," the kid with the knife said. "That's a bad combination."

Micah took a step forward, putting himself between Lainey and the two punks.

"Micah..."

"Don't worry, Lainey."

The kid with the gun laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound, like leaves skittering over a grave. "Hear that, Griff, he told her not to worry."

"Told ya he was stupid," Griff replied.

"Go home," Micah said, his voice calm. "I don't want to hurt you."

The boy with the knife snorted disdainfully. "You'regonna hurtus ? Man, you really are stupid."

Lainey glanced around, hoping to see a police car, as the guy with the knife took a step forward. As usual, there was never a cop around when you needed one.

And then she glanced at Micah, and time seemed to stand still. Voices and images seemed to blur. She watched in horror as the kid with the gun lifted the weapon as if to fire, and then, as if struck by an invisible blow, he stumbled backward. The gun turned red, then white, and he let out a high-pitched shriek as the glowing metal burned the skin off the palm of his hand.

The other punk uttered a vile obscenity, then began backing away when he realized Micah's attention was now focused on him.

"Hey, I didn't mean nothing, man," he said. He risked a glance at his companion, who was writhing on the ground cradling his injured hand against his chest. "I didn't mean nothing," he said again, and dropping the switchblade, he turned and ran.

Lainey stared at the boy on the sidewalk, then at the gun, which glowed and pulsed like a white-hot flame.

Micah held out his hand. "Let's go, Lainey."

She nodded, too stunned to speak, as she took his hand. The fingers that curled around her own trembling ones were warm and strong.

They were several blocks away before she found her voice. "What happened back there? How did you do that?''

Micah shrugged. "Just a little trick I know."

"Some trick," Lainey muttered. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

"I felt it." He squeezed her hand. "Where did you go?"

"To the library."

He lifted one brow. "The library? Do you always go there to hide?"

"No, I... I did some research on UFOs."

"I see," he said, keeping his voice and face impassive. "And did your research convince you that I'm telling the truth?"

"No, it only confused me more."

They were home now. Opening the front door, Lainey went into the living room. Everything looked the same as when she'd left, and yet she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Hands clasped together, she turned to face Micah. "So, are you really a little green man, or a monster?"

"Neither."

"Show me, then, now, before I lose my nerve."

Micah took a deep breath, and then let himself appear in his natural form.

Lainey stared at him for a long moment. He was nothing like what she had imagined and everything she could have hoped for. He was tall and broad and beautifully formed, perfection upon perfection. His skin, what she could see of it, was golden brown, smooth, devoid of hair. A shimmering blue aura surrounded him, pulsing softly. His eyes were large, the same arresting silver-blue color as before, slightly tilted at the outside corners.Catlike , she thought, remembering one of the descriptions she had read. That part, at least, had been true. His nose was long and straight, his lips full. Long blond hair, almost silver in color, fell well past his shoulders. He held up one hand and she saw that there was an extra bit of webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

If possible, he was even more appealing than before.

"You don't look much different," Lainey remarked, "except for that blue glow."

"A little different," he said, and sweeping his hair back on one side, he let her see his ear. It was small and fiat and lay close to his head.

Just like in one of the books, she thought, but everything else was different.

"So?" Micah said, letting his hair fall back in place, "are you going to run screaming into the night?"

"I guess not, although that blue glow is a little disconcerting."

"It's caused by the high level of oxygen in Earth's atmosphere."

He was watching her, his gaze warm and steady on her face. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, felt her stomach begin to flutter wildly.

"So,'' she said, toying with the hem of her shirt,' 'can you do any other weird things besides read my mind and melt gun metal?"

"Like what?"

She crossed her arms over her breasts. "You don't have X-ray vision, or anything, do you?"

"X-ray vision?"

"You know, like Superman... never mind, I guess you don't know." She shook her head. "I don't know what to make of all this."

She sat down on the sofa, studying Micah from the corner of her eye. Maybe she was dreaming.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Leave?"

"I have the feeling that my being here is making you uncomfortable."

"No. Yes, well, maybe a little. I guess I just haven't absorbed it all yet."

"Lainey..."

"Why did you come here? To Earth, I mean?"

"My ship malfunctioned and crashed."

"Have you been here before?"

"No."

"Have any of your... your people?"

Micah sat down on the other end of the sofa, wondering how to answer her, wondering if he dared tell her the truth, or if she would be happier with a lie.

"Have they?"

She was watching him carefully, waiting for his answer, and he knew he couldn't lie to her.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Scientific curiosity about a race that's different from our own, yet amazingly similar."

"Have they ever abducted anyone?"

Micah hesitated a moment, and then nodded.

Lainey felt the blood drain from her face as she recalled the horrible incidents she had read about in the library, stories of people being taken aboard UFOs to be poked and prodded like laboratory animals. The books she had read described aliens cutting people open, examining their internal organs, taking samples of blood and tissue. She remembered the awful scars pictured in one of the books.

"Lainey, it's not like that!" He started to reach for her, but she drew away, her face a mask of horror and revulsion.

"Lainey, you must believe me. We've never harmed anyone, never done any of those things that are troubling you. All my people have ever done is talk to those they have taken, ask questions, nothing more."

It was the truth, whether she believed it or not. His people meant hers no harm. He didn't know if there were beings from other worlds visiting the earth, but no one who had been examined by Xanthians had ever been harmed, nor were they ever allowed to remember the experience. They were not hypnotized to forget the incident; it was completely erased from the mind so that not even hypnosis could recall it.

Xanthia had strict regulations forbidding his people to intermingle with humans for any but scientific purposes. Earthlings were making longer forays into space, probing deeper and deeper.

It was Xanthia's wish to remain unknown and undiscovered. Unlike humans, Xanthians abhorred violence and warfare. They did not seek to colonize other planets or impose their will upon other civilizations. They did not pollute the land. Their air was clear and untainted; their oceans were uncontaminated by filth and refuse.

"Lainey, won't you please believe me?

She didn't answer, merely continued to stare at him as if he were indeed the monster she had expected him to be.

Her silence, and the fear she was trying to hide, made him ache deep down inside.

"Have I ever lied to you?" he asked quietly. "Have I hurt you in any way?"

"I don't know what to believe."

"Believe that I care for you, that I would never do anything to hurt you."

Lainey closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had a horrible headache all of a sudden.

"Lainey..."

She opened her eyes, startled to find him sitting close beside her. She hadn't heard him move, hadn't felt the sofa shift beneath his weight when he moved. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know what."

"It's a gift, like reading your mind."

"You can't turn invisible, too, can you?"

"No."

She eyed him warily as he lifted one hand toward her.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Lainey." His voice was low and quiet, his luminous eyes filled with a silent plea. "Won't you please trust me?"

She couldn't help tensing as he reached toward her. Slowly, gently, he pressed his fingertips against her forehead. In seconds, her headache was gone.

"You're full of tricks, aren't you?" she murmured, unable to keep a faint note of accusation out of her voice.

"It's not a trick. I have the ability to project heat and energy."

"Oh." She felt bereft when he took his fingertips from her brow. "What's it like where you come from?"

"It's a pretty place, very peaceful. There are no wars. Our cities and our oceans are clean and beautiful. There is very little misconduct, as the penalties are severe and punishment is carried out immediately."

Unlike theUnited States , she thought, where criminals who had been sentenced to death lived in comfort on death row.

"Does your planet look like Earth?"

"In a way. We have trees and flowers and grass, though they're different in color and form from yours. Our sky is more pink than blue."

"And do you have movies and TV?"

"Yes, but on a more advanced scale than yours."

"And books? Do your people read for pleasure?"

Micah nodded. "But no one on Xanthia writes as well as you do. Why don't you rest now?"

Lainey nodded. She did feel tired. Tired and confused.

Before she could stand up, Micah swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall to her bedroom. Pulling down the covers of the bed, he placed her, very gently, on the mattress, removed her shoes, then drew the blankets up to her chin.

"Go to sleep, Lainey. I'll leave tomorrow morning if that's what you want."

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She didn't want him to go, but did she want him to stay?

She watched him leave the room. A faint blue glow remained behind for a moment and then, it too, was gone.

She was in a large oval room being pursued by a little green man with four arms and two heads. He held a scalpel in one hand and a gigantic syringe in another. She ran and ran, but there was no way out, and everywhere she looked, she saw stainless steel operating tables fitted with thick leather restraints. There were people on the tables, people who screamed soundless screams as shiny silver scalpels cut into their flesh. She ran and ran, but always he was behind her, laughing maniacally.

She was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming, knew it wasn't real, and yet she couldn't outrun the horror, the fear of what would happen if he caught her.

She had to wake up!

She screamed then, screamed and screamed, until her silent shrieks became reality and the sound of her panicked cries jerked her awake.

She sat up, drenched in sweat.

A moment later, Micah burst into the room. "Lainey!" He switched on the overhead light. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, squinting against the sudden brightness. "You're not blue anymore."

He shrugged. "I thought you would be more comfortable if I looked like your cover model again."

"Oh." She sensed that it pained him because she was more at ease with an illusion than with who and what he really was, but then, hadn't she always been more at ease in fantasy than reality? It was why she loved writing so much, why she was so good at it.

"Are you all right?" Micah asked quietly.

"Yes. I had a nightmare." She began to shiver. "It was awful."

"What was it about?"

"Monsters from outer space," she answered, avoiding his gaze.

"And was I in it?"

"No."

He stared down at her, feeling as if his whole life, once as meticulously ordered as the universe, was spinning out of control.

Lainey gazed up at Micah, wishing he would hold her, comfort her, yet too hurt and confused to ask.

Knowing he was invading her privacy, yet needing to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, Micah let his mind probe hers.

Anger. Confusion. Hurt. Fear. A need. To be held. To be loved...

Love. It was an unfamiliar concept, difficult to understand. His people cared for each other. There was honor and respect for friends, reverence for the elderly, veneration for those in positions of authority. But love...

Was it love that he felt for Lainey St. John? Love that made him ache for her, love that made him want to see her smile again, that made him want to spend every waking moment at her side?

He ran a hand through his hair. How could he love her? They were worlds apart. Literally worlds apart.

Lainey...

Because he couldn't look at her and not touch her, Micah sat down on the edge of the bed, and after a moment's hesitation, he drew her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

She fit into his embrace as if she had been created for him and for him alone.

She made a small, whimpering sound as she snuggled against him, and Micah knew that he was lost. If she asked him to go, he would go.

And if she asked him to stay, he would stay.

Micah rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes. If Pergith should find him and he refused to go home, he would be considered a traitor, an enemy of Xanthia. They could not risk his being caught and examined and perhaps persuaded, under duress or drugs, to divulge information about Xanthia and its people.

He released a long, slow sigh of resignation. No explorer from Xanthia had ever remained on Earth this long. He had learned much of Earth and its people and technology, information that might prove useful to his planet, information that he was honor-bound to report to his superiors. But, even more damning, he knew too much of the inner workings of Xanthia for them to risk letting him stay.