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eBook Category: Romance/Science Fiction
eBook Description: Alien warrior Barak of Zura (alias Erik Berenger) travels to earth to claim his destiny and guarantee his rightful place within his planet's elite. His human grandmother was kidnapped by his Zuran grandfather years earlier, with disastrous results. Erik refuses to inflict the same fate on his ordained mate, newspaper columnist Allie Stanislawski. Instead, he woos her, only to discover the wonders of love and humanity. Will Allie still love him when she uncovers the truth? And will she agree to accompany him to Zura, where destiny is king and emotion is scorned?

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: Fiction Works, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2004

58 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [701 KB], eReader (PDB) [238 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [228 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [203 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [196 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [245 KB], hiebook (KML) [513 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [296 KB], iSilo (PDB) [188 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [236 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [41 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [308 KB]
Words: 69000
Reading time: 197-276 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Norah-Jean Perkin has written an exciting tale that deserves cross-genre reading as science fiction and futuristic romance fans will gain much pleasure from a fabulous story. Highly recommended!"--Harriet Klausner, Under the Covers

"A refreshingly innovative romance, Blue Dawn is clever, funny and impossible to put down before the last page."--Claire Cross, Once Upon a Kiss, The Last Highlander and Love Potion #9.

Squelching a shudder, Allie Stanislawski dug her fingers into the quivering grey gunk in the small jar. She grimaced, then began smearing the beauty preparation over her face. She had trouble believing this stuff would actually perform the wonders the ads proclaimed, but at forty dollars for four ounces, it had better do something.

She smoothed the clay across her cheeks and over her chin and forehead, avoiding her eyes and mouth. "Not that it matters, anyway," she muttered, glaring at the mud-covered apparition in her bathroom mirror. After dumping Cody last week, she was swearing off men, forever. Particularly the tall, dark exciting ones who thought love was some kind of recreational sport involving a cast of hundreds.

Allie swallowed and blinked back the tears she refused to let get the better of her. Sniffing, she smoothed the last bit of the clay mask under her chin, then adjusted the lime-green towel covering her wet hair. The towel clashed with the baby blue terry housecoat wrapped around her, but who was here to see it besides Sharkey?

She smiled woefully at the runt cat fighting with the fluffy, raccoon-shaped slipper encasing her left foot. She'd picked Sharkey up from the pound at the beginning of June. Now, only ten days later--and unlike a man--he loved her faithfully. Or at least as long as she fed him.

The doorbell chimed just as she bent over to disentangle the little gray cat from her slipper. Grumbling, she straightened, and glanced at her watch on the counter. It was nine thirty, late for callers on a week night. She certainly wasn't expecting anyone. Not dressed like this. Worse, how had that someone got in without buzzing her from the lobby? The west side of Chicago wasn't exactly danger city, but what good was a security system if it didn't keep people out?

Still grumbling, Allie shook Sharkey off her foot and clumped over to the door of the huge, bare apartment in a renovated warehouse she'd moved into only two weeks earlier. Light from a street lamp that had just snapped on in the waning of the mid-June twilight streamed through the bank of windows along one wall, casting long shadows in the darkened room.

Allie made a face, then knelt down to peer through the peephole. Had the last tenant been confined to a wheelchair? The waist level installation certainly made trying to view callers a nuisance.

The mud above her eyebrow cracked and pieces fell onto her eyelashes as she squinted through the tiny hole. She blinked and brushed at her eye, then focused again. Damn! She couldn't be certain, but it appeared she was looking at a pair of legs covered in dark denim. She strained to look downwards, but was unable to see beyond another few inches. She scrunched down lower and looked upwards.

Her gaze locked on a higher portion of the caller, then started to focus. More denim, and a stitched fly pulled tightly over a bulge that ...

Allie snapped upright, her face burning under the drying mud. Either a dwarf had lived here before or someone with a perverted approach to identifying callers.

The doorbell chimed again.

"All right, all right," muttered Allie. She undid the lock and the deadbolt, then slipped open the door as far as the chain would allow.

She looked up--up into the most hypnotic male eyes she'd ever seen. Eyes that glowed like molten lead, their silvery light repeated in the strange streaks in the man's collar-length hair. Eyes that burned into her an unshakable impression of strength, danger and excitement, an impression that caught the breath in her throat and sent a shiver down her spine.

For an excruciatingly long moment she seemed unable to do anything but stare into those eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest; her lips parted but no sound came out.

Slowly an awareness of the man to whom the eyes belonged penetrated her consciousness. And what a man! He towered above her five foot four inches, a vision of dark masculinity filling the hallway. But in the dim lighting, she was unable to focus on much beyond his build and his compelling eyes.

Allie tried to drag her eyes away, but could not. She cleared her throat, but couldn't formulate a coherent thought, much less a word, for the thrum of excitement building in her veins.

"Perhaps I have made a mistake. I was looking for Alina Kazimiera Stanislawski."

The deep, calm voice flowed over Allie like honey on bread--heavy, and sweet, and alluring. Until she noted the growing chill in the metallic eyes.

With a jolt, the spell seizing her senses broke. "Oh, ah, yes. I mean no," Allie stammered. She remembered the mud on her face, the lime green towel, the slippers. Oh no, not the slippers! She tried to compose herself, wishing all the time she could disappear off the face of the earth.

"Uh, no, you haven't made a mistake."

The male god frowned. The metallic eyes cooled to icy silver. "Then you are Alina Kazimiera Stanislawski?"

"Yes." In the face of his disapproval, Allie's embarrassment turned to irritation. "Allie," she added a trifle belligerently.

The stranger stared at her, his gaze growing cooler still. After a moment he appeared to have reached a reluctant conclusion. He straightened.

"Well then, Alina Kazimiera Stanislawski, I will introduce myself." He paused, his eyes glowing again with a strange silver intensity. "I am Barak of Zura, a planet in the Oridian galaxy far from your Milky Way."

He cleared his throat and raised his chin, but his gaze never left her face. "I have come for you, Alina. You are my destiny."

Allie fought the hypnotic pull of his gaze. "You have come for me..." she repeated.

"What?" She snapped upright as the meaning of the man's words flashed across her brain. Open-mouthed she stared at him. And to think she'd thought...

"Oh, give me a break," she sputtered. She slammed the door, locked it and rammed the deadbolt in place. She backed away from the door, appalled to realize her heart was racing and she was shaking all over. From shock, from fear, from anger--she wasn't sure which. She kept backing up until her legs hit the couch against the opposite wall. She sat down, scooping Sharkey to her chest, and stroking him despite his struggles.

She waited one minute, two minutes, three minutes, all the time forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths. Finally, still holding Sharkey, she rose and crept to the door. Careful not to make any noise, she knelt before the peephole and looked out.

She sighed. Her knees wobbled beneath her. He was gone. Thank God, he was gone.

"I'm telling you Kate, you should have seen this guy."

Allie deposited her mug of coffee on the only empty space on her newspaper-strewn desk. She turned to her co-worker and best friend at The Streeter, a tabloid upstart that had been fighting for attention for the past two years against the formidable likes of the Chicago Sun-Times and The Tribune.

"He was a hunk, an absolutely incredible hunk." She rolled her eyes, then shook her head. Despite herself she shivered. "But a lunatic. I mean he actually said--can you believe it--he said he was from another planet and that I was his destiny."

Kate grinned and ran one hand through her short, plum-colored hair. "From anyone else, no. But from you? What is it about you that attracts the weirdos? Like that guy last month who wanted you to help him prove the decimal point was the cause of all America's money woes? Or that woman who just knew she was a reincarnation of Queen Victoria? Not only that, but you attract all the sexiest guys, too."

"I don't want to talk about attractive men," Allie warned. "And don't even think of mentioning the name Cody Walker to me. Or any other man's name, either."

She tossed back her hair in an attempt to toss off the hurt and humiliation that started to well in her at the mere mention of Cody. Grimly she picked up her coffee. "I've had it with men. From now on I'm concentrating on work. I may have only been a columnist for six weeks, but I'm going to make Street Beat the best human interest column in the whole city. You'll see."

She raised the mug to her lips. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the city editor Nate Williams making a beeline for her desk. Her gaze drifted to an unfamiliar man at his side--and froze.

Her throat seized up. She couldn't swallow. She choked on the mouthful of coffee and began coughing violently.

Kate grabbed the cup from her and pounded her back. Nate raced the last few steps and joined Kate in slapping Allie's back.

"Are you all right, Allie?" Nate demanded between slaps. "I'd hate for my newest columnist to choke to death first thing in the morning."

"Th ... thanks," sputtered Allie, as she escaped the helping hands. "You're all heart. Now stop smacking me before you beat me to death."

"Ah, that's my Allie." The gray-haired and roly-poly city editor beamed at her and then Kate. "I'd like you girls to meet the new photographer I just hired to replace George." He stepped back and nodded to the man who loomed behind him. The man the mere sight of whom had made Allie think her heart was going to stop. "Erik, come here."

Almost afraid to look again, Allie slowly swiveled in the stranger's direction. She raised her eyes, steeling herself for the shock that had erupted with her first glimpse of him. A glimpse that had registered the same impression of strength, danger and excitement she'd seen in the lunatic stranger at her door last night.

She swallowed and forced herself to look again. This time her gaze was slow and deliberate, starting at the top of his six-foot-two inches. Without question, he had the same height, the same thrilling build, the same dark hair. But, she noted, the streaks in his collar-length hair were blond, not silver. His eyes were gray, not the molten lead that had glowed at her so strangely from a shadowed face in the dim hallway. For the first time she saw his broad Slavic cheekbones, square jaw, strong nose and generous mouth. Her mind assessed and concluded that the man was definitely good-looking.

But not the god who'd sent her pulse racing and her insides melting last night. Not the sexy stranger who had terrified her with his crazy statement.

"Allie, Kate, I'd like you to meet Erik Berenger, our new photographer. He starts today. He's been working in Australia, in Sydney and Melbourne, for the last five years. He just got back to the States a couple of weeks ago."

Erik inclined his dark head first to Kate, then to Allie. She forced her lips into a welcoming smile. As his eyes met hers, she noted neither the glimmer of a smile nor the slightest flicker of recognition. It couldn't possibly be the lunatic from last night, she thought, but the realization did not generate a feeling of relief.

Nate, looking more elfin than ever beside the towering Erik, cleared his throat. "I'm sure you ladies will both be working with Erik over the next few days. He's new to the Chicago area, so I want you to be nice to him."

A pained expression flashed across Nate's face. "Not that nice, Kate!" he scolded.

Allie bit her lip to keep from laughing. She hadn't missed the bold leer Kate, always appreciative of male beauty, had directed at Erik, a leer that Nate's scolding had done nothing to lessen.

Nate harrumphed and mumbled something about lack of respect. Allie glanced at Kate. From her twitching lips it was evident she was having trouble suppressing her laughter too. If they could just keep from exploding until the well-meaning but fatherly Nate was out of earshot.

"And now, if you'll excuse us, I haven't got all day to make the rounds. C'mon Erik."

Nate turned, then veered back. "Oh Allie. By the way, have you seen Cody this morning?"

"No." The laughter bubbling inside Allie died. She stiffened. "Why would I?"

"I just thought--" Nate's round face reddened with awareness of the relationship he'd just implied, a relationship that even he had to know from newsroom gossip had ended. He started again. "It's just he hasn't come in yet. And it's not like him to be late, or not to phone if he can't make it."

"Well, I haven't seen him." Allie noted the worry in Nate's voice, but her wounds were too fresh to respond in any other way. And pride prevented her from adding, "Maybe you should ask Jane in Circulation. Or Tiffany in Advertising."

Masking her hurt with anger, she glared at Nate. He turned away, sighing. She noticed Erik staring at her, his face impassive, his eyes cool.

She glared at him too, until he turned and followed Nate. The new photographer might not be the lunatic from last night, but he was a man, wasn't he? she thought.

Good enough reason to let him know she wasn't interested, right from the start. Not now, not ever.

During his extended tour of The Chicago Streeter's newsroom, Erik displayed polite interest as he committed to memory the names, faces and details Nate introduced. But his thoughts kept returning to the petite woman across the room, the woman called Alina Kazimiera Stanislawski, or Allie as she had insisted last night.

He suppressed a grimace. He'd told himself it didn't matter. Still, he'd been relieved this morning to see that under the blue/gray face paint, the green and blue towels and the furred animals on her feet, was the attractive woman whose image he'd seen in the visual files prepared for him by Intergalactic Research. If anything, the images hadn't done justice to her small but pert figure, her golden complexion and sun-streaked auburn hair, the almond-shaped green eyes.

More importantly, the research had failed to prepare him for the shock of coming face to face with the strong human emotions he'd heard about but never before seen. Open curiosity, suspicion and anger had burned in the woman's eyes and across her expressive face, along with an unmistakable flash of desire--desire for him. Was it the naked emotions or his shocked response that had disturbed him most? he wondered.

He frowned, then checked himself. He glanced at Nate to see if the city editor had caught his temporary lapse of attention. He couldn't afford to blow it now. So far Intergalactic Research appeared to have done a good job--no one had questioned his credentials, his story, his identity.

Thank the crystals that he hadn't given himself away completely last night with his foolish attempt at being direct. Despite urgings from his advisers that he simply kidnap the woman and be done with it, he had hoped that his destined mate would be intelligent enough to understand the facts and accept her fate. He had naively hoped to avoid a long campaign to win her acceptance.

But no. He had underestimated the huge gap in knowledge between the faraway planet of Zura and Earth, as well as the human shock in the face of an alien encounter. It was a mistake he would not, and could not, make again. Not if he hoped to avoid the emotional and mental destruction his grandfather had wreaked some fifty years earlier while fulfilling his destiny.

But could he do it? He had a maximum of two months before the Idlanta III, now orbiting the Earth behind the moon, departed for Zura and his homeland. Two months to convince the Earthling to willingly forsake her home for the superior Zalia, his native country in the northern hemisphere of Zura. Two months to convince her their fates had been irrevocably entwined since the day so long ago when he had learned of his destiny. Two months to overcome her resistance and convince her to accompany him back to Zura as his mate.

Two months, he thought, his mouth tightening and his eyes narrowing. Two months to succeed and finally win full acceptance. Or to fail and face shame, belittlement, and ultimately death.

Nate paused in his ramblings and Erik glanced across the room, to the untidy desk where his destiny sat, a telephone receiver cradled between her shoulder and her ear as her fingers raced across the keyboard of her computer.

A glimmer of feeling rippled through him. For a second he grappled with it, unable to identify it or to understand the uneasiness it provoked.

Then, with a shake of his head and a sense of relief, he seized on the only logical answer. What else could it be but the lure of the chase, the challenge of the hunt that was sending a spurt of adrenaline through him, preparing him for the battle ahead? He had experienced this so-called feeling only once before, on the eve of a mission to the south of Zura to ferret out the information Zalia needed to defeat the rebels. A mission which, he remembered, had concluded successfully.

With hooded eyes, he continued to watch his destined prey, measuring and cataloguing her physical properties and actions. Properties he had decided in the last few minutes were more than satisfactory.

Maybe he was going to enjoy the challenge posed by his destiny after all.