My Prize Read Free

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 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 system 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, bodybuilder-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 1

    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.
    His sexual skills had been applauded and then, embarrassingly, critiqued. And by the women he'd just fucked, too. That was an experience he'd not soon forget.
    Overall, they'd rated him high on the satisfaction scale, with a few points off for not letting them get on top of him. Well, damn it, they hadn't asked! He loved to have a woman on top, riding him to her pleasure, but he wasn't a damned mind reader.
    He winced, wondering if that would be his next set of lessons. Learning to anticipate a woman's sexual needs? He truly believed, in spite of all the wonders he'd seen, that such a thing was completely impossible. And always would be.
    The man who called himself Guardian had brought