Chapter 1
The warrior loomed over her. His leather jerkin,
open to his waist, revealed a bounty of chest muscles and a
corrugation of abdominals. Tight buff breeches hugged lean
hips and well shaped thighs. Maggie O'Brien's gaze jumped
from his belt buckle to his jewel–encrusted boot
knife, avoiding the obvious indications of a man well
endowed. Clear thought fled.
""Is the poster straight now?""
Maggie jerked to attention. ""Huh?""
Gwen Marlowe scrambled down from her low stepladder.
""The poster? Is it straight?""
Maggie crossed her arms and hugged herself against
the chilly air in Virtual Heaven, Gwen's video game shop.
""Yes. It's fine.""
The two friends faced the poster that advertised
Tolemac Wars, a virtual reality game.
""Kinda cute, isn't he?"" Gwen said.
Maggie tipped her head back and examined the man who
bristled with weapons and bulged with muscle.
""You bet."" She sighed. ""Why don't real men look
that good?""
""Now, Mag, don't be so cynical."" Gwen gave a
playful tug to an unruly lock of Maggie's long black hair.
""There are a few men that great, even here in Ocean City,
New Jersey. Maybe if you came out of your jewelry shop, you
might see one.""
Maggie snorted with disdain, clinging stubbornly to
her viewpoint. ""Some artist conjures them up to torture us
wallflowers. He reminds me of those guys you see on the
covers of romance novels. Those men don't exist either.""
""Funny you should mention that. The artist who did
that poster uses live models, so that guy up there really
exists. Now, stop gawking and come help me count my change."
They counted the store's earnings. As Gwen chatted,
Maggie found her attention drifting to the poster and the
medieval man who dominated it. She caught the tail–end
of a question.
""––so why did you come here tonight?
You might be right next door, but it seems like we never see
each other anymore. I know you didn't come to play a game.""
Maggie hid a sheepish grin and went to the front of
Gwen's store for a bag she'd dropped by the door. A distant
roll of thunder reminded her a nor'easter was moving in.
""I'm invited to a storm party––""
""A storm party? What the heck's that?"" Gwen
snatched the bag from Maggie's hands and spilled the
contents on the counter, heaping it with clothing, jewelry,
and shoes.
""You know . . . an excuse to have a party. I guess
it's also to mark the end of the season. I was hoping to
meet someone new.""
""Finally. I was beginning to worry about you. It's
time you got over Tony.""
""I'm over Tony,"" Maggie murmured.
Gwen placed a sympathetic hand on Maggie's. ""You
say that, but your reclusive behavior tells me different. I
want my happy, vibrant friend back. You've hidden in your
jewelry shop for months. I know he hurt you, Mag, but Tony
and you just weren't meant to be. Try to think of him as
just another boyfriend.""
Maggie dipped her head and hid behind her hair. Gwen
had no idea of the depths of humiliation and pain that
thoughts of Tony engendered, even now, months after their
break–up. ""I really thought we'd eventually get
married, Gwen. All those empty promises––""
Maggie mentally shook herself, determined to banish the
painful thoughts. ""Help me pick something to wear. I can't
make up my mind. I want to look good.""
""Maggie, you could go in those old gray sweats and
you'd look good. You'd have all the dates you wanted if
you'd just try a little.""
For a bleak moment, Maggie considered her friend's
words. ""I'm not sure I'm ready.""
""Yes you are. Think positively. Not all men are
domineering womanizers like Tony. Now, let's see these
outfits."" Gwen sorted through the pile of clothing and held
up a short red dress. ""Pretty stunning, but not you."" She
cast it aside in favor of a wad of black material. Shaking
it out, she said, ""You always look great in black. Let's
see this on you.""
Maggie cast a regretful glance at the red dress.
She'd spent a fortune on it and the matching shoes in an
uncharacteristic moment of panic spending.
She looked about the long, low displays of games.
""Where shall I go? I can't change out here.""
Maggie and Gwen turned to the expanse of glass
windows fronting the boardwalk shop. Rain pelted the window,
obscured their view of the wide wooden promenade and the
roiling ocean just beyond a stretch of sand.
""I think the bathroom is probably freezing about
now. I know! The virtual reality booth. Come on."" Gwen led
Maggie to a free–standing chamber by the poster that
had occupied so much of Maggie's attention.
Maggie paused at the entrance and stared up at the
warrior. ""He is beautiful. Arrogant, I would think, but . .
. powerful.""
The warrior had eyes an improbable shade of aqua.
His tangled brown hair reminded Maggie of a surfer's, with
sun streaks like streams of lava running through its length.
Above him, the Tolemac sun, a red nightmare in a purple sky,
appeared ready to sink behind a mountain range of sharp
peaks, their summits capped with gilded snow.
""Who's the woman behind him?"" Maggie asked Gwen.
""Why's she so indistinct? She almost blends into the
background.""
""I call her the Shadow Woman. She pops up at the
most convenient times and saves him from some peril. She's a
slave.""
""How do you know she's a slave?"" Maggie asked.
""No arm rings."" Gwen entered the virtual reality
booth.
Maggie's gaze returned to the warrior. Three
silver–hued rings encircled his well developed upper
arm. Maggie sighed, then followed Gwen. ""Is she his slave?""
""Maybe. I only know she's really good at saving his
butt. I suppose, after we go home, after the shop is closed,
he rewards her, somewhere out there in cyberspace."