The Pleasure Principle

Chapter One

Year 3091

Andromeda Galaxy, Planet PX330—aka the Pleasure Planet

“We’ve got fleas,” said Gizelle Sobera’s new companion, a devilishly handsome man named Trey whom she’d picked up at port that very morning.

He hadn’t offered a last name. She hadn’t bothered to ask for one. Galaxy roamers were skilled vagabonds who worked for their shuttle passage between planets. They were meant to be temporary commodities in one’s life, not permanent fixtures.

She’d venture to say this one’s talents ran the gamut from laborer to lover.

But she was only interested in Trey in the former sense. Or so she’d been reminding herself all morning.

Pulling in a long breath of thick, sticky-sweet air, she leaned back against a wide tree trunk and contemplated his warning. Having just scaled the craggy surface of the cliff on which they now stood, she was winded and her muscles burned from the physical exertion. But her mind was sharp and alert.

Trey shot her a level look, his strong jaw set. “I’m telling you, we’re being followed.”

“Impossible. I’m the only one in this millennium who’s seen these coordinates.” A quick blast into the mouth from her tiny inhaler gave her the boost of oxygen she needed. Instantly refreshed and thoroughly revived, she pushed away from the tree and added in a confident tone, “No one but yours truly can find this place.”

She pocketed her inhaler and then held up her right index finger, the tip of which blinked yellow and green. Four days ago, when she’d started this journey, she’d implanted a directional microchip just beneath the surface of her skin. The centuries-old digital map for the lost gold had been a bitch to decipher—taking several years, in fact, once she’d discovered and downloaded it. But she’d eventually worked through the codes. And the plot points she’d recovered, which were translated step-by-step into her mini-earpiece, had led her to this deserted tropical island in a remote area of a planet she’d rather not be on.

But when trillions in gold bars—and many lives—were at stake, what choice did she have?

“Look.” Trey crossed the ledge’s rugged terrain and pointed a blunt-tipped finger at the ground before her. “There’s your footprint.” He frowned as he seemed to realize his last ones had been marred by the spotty patches of green grass that covered the soft soil. So he stamped his booted foot in the slightly muddy, reddish-brown clay, right next to her print. It rendered a full impression. “Here’s mine.”

Gizelle eyed him curiously as he strode forward several feet ahead. He pointed again, this time to a very clear print that was embedded in the damp ground. One that did not match theirs. “Unless one of us has sprouted a third leg—the walking kind,” he quickly added with a naturally wicked glint in his obsidian-colored eyes, “then this print belongs to someone who’s been here before us. Quite recently. Strategically skirting us. But still, very close by.”

Gizelle scanned their immediate surroundings as she listened carefully to nature’s elements. Adjacent to their cliff was a tall waterfall that spilled into an enormous pool a good sixty feet below. The crashing wall of water echoed in the canyon, mingling with the calls of the exotic wildlife, none of which Gizelle could identify. This wasn’t her home turf. Being an Earthling here left her vulnerable.

For her to have picked up a “flea”—a term from the old days on Earth, yet one still frequently used in her line of work—meant she could very well find herself in grave danger. Especially given her occupation of intergalactic blockade runner turned treasure hunter.

Not helping matters was the peculiar sensual influence of PX330, located in the Galactic Core of the Andromeda Galaxy. This particular rock was best known as the Pleasure Planet.

For good reasons.

Reasons Gizelle vehemently, though sometimes unsuccessfully, defied.

The atmosphere of the Pleasure Planet tended to stimulate its inhabitants and visitors in erotic ways, which Gizelle focused all of her energy on repelling. Especially right now, when so much was at stake.

Still. There was no escaping the dewy feel of her skin as the humidity worked its magic on her. No eluding the sultry scent of citrus mixed with a fresh floral aroma which wafted on a warm breeze and inspired the desire to lounge on the silky sand of the beach below.

The shores on Earth had long since morphed from sand to rocky, sooty land from the natural evaporation of surface water as the age-old prediction of global warming came to fruition in the middle of the previous millennium, coupled with the eerily systemic eruption of underground volcanoes and earthquakes created by the sudden convergences of the eight tectonic plates. The aftermath of the earthquakes made neighbors of islands and continents that had once been thousands of miles away from each other. What was left of Hawaii had instantly become a suburb of Los Angeles, with no need for a bridge over the gaping hole between them given today’s levitational transportation.

Survivors had been few because even the advanced science and technology of the modern world had not been able to counter the effects of Mother Nature. But the space communities had, of course, endured. And had rebuilt life on Earth, for the most part. The effort was ongoing, hindered by the intergalactic war that broke out decades ago. A war still being fought today, on the ground as much as in space.

Half a galaxy away from the warzone, the Pleasure Planet was like a time capsule displaying all things beautiful and natural and heavenly, a reminder of what Earth had once looked and smelled like before the ravaged lands stretched across the planet

and the scent of death permeated the air. PX330 teased the senses of those who’d studied Earth’s history with virtual vision and sensory programs.

Thinking of the war’s destruction on her home planet made Gizelle all the more determined to locate the gold and get the hell off the Pleasure Planet. She had important work back home. Troops and families of the Protective Forces to help. Cities and lives to salvage.

As her eyes scanned the lush jungle in which she and Trey were currently ensconced, his observation that they were being tracked—and its dire implications—left her scowling.

“Well, hell.” Her gaze returned to the third footprint. Gizelle wondered where this mysterious adversary was hiding. Why hadn’t they heard him or seen him in the hour and a half they’d been on the tropical island?

And was he alone, or was he a scout for a larger hunting party?

Turning to Trey, she said, “We didn’t settle on the cut you’d get for helping me recover the gold bars.”

“I told you, I’m not interested in currency.”

Gizelle propped a hand on her hip and attempted to stare down her sexy new companion. No easy feat. He had a steely gaze that matched his resolve. And he really was devastatingly handsome. Though, when she’d called out to him on the floating pier as he’d sauntered past her newly acquired sailing vessel, her interest in him hadn’t been a typical woman’s for such a gorgeous male specimen. Lord knew she didn’t need a quick romp or an intergalactic romance on this trip.

Been there. Been fucked.

Literally and figuratively, thanks to the rogue pirate, D.T. Vaughn.