Chapter One

"More junk mail, it's a wonder there are any trees left in this world," I huffed, slamming shut the back of the post box and locking it.

Post was mainly digital nowadays, but sometimes it was pretty exciting to receive an actual letter, naturally written on recycled paper. However, it seemed that mailers of spam didn't bother with such environmental niceties.

Making my way back up the drive, I staggered a little as the ground beneath my feet seemed to shift just as the house came fully into view. Seeing what looked like a tear that appeared several feet above the tarmacked drive, I gaped in shock.

"What the…?" my eyes widened when something, or rather someone, fell through. The body landed in an undignified heap on the driveway with a solid thunk.

Ouch.

The tear then quickly shrunk and disappeared. I'd often read theories on other dimensions, parallel worlds, and even time travel but had never heard of anyone witnessing such a phenomenon. If it was a natural occurrence. No one knew how it was even possible for someone to create such things.

Edging cautiously closer to the large heap that, at the moment was quietly groaning and so far, hadn't made any real effort to get up, I uncertainly hovered, fully prepared to kick out and hoof it at the slightest hint of aggression.

The figure was most definitely male, going by the impressive build and incredibly long legs, but his luscious and lengthy platinum blond hair kind of threw me a little.

Although admittedly, my father had had longish hair, 'so why be surprised?' I thought to myself. I took in the details of his strange attire, and my brows almost met my hairline.

"He's wearing armour?" I wondered dazedly if maybe he'd been taking part in a medieval larping gig, which was evidently a thing nowadays, then shook my head. 'No, stupid.' I berated myself. 'The guy fell through a bloody rift!' I was pretty sure it was … "Unless I'm hallucinating?"

That and my darkening mood of late must have finally affected my mind. Maybe the result of too much time being on my own the last few months. As for larping, as far as I was aware, there were no such events in the area, and if there were, how on earth would he have managed to trespass on my land without the security system alerting me? An irrelevant thought, really, as I saw how he got here.

I let out an irritated breath. But then, what did it all matter in the long run? This, whatever this was, was the least of my worries. I'd be leaving soon, and nothing was going to derail that. Not even the strangely dressed warrior-guy that had fallen at my feet.

"Um… Hey. Hello there. Are you…Okay?" At my pathetically hesitant query, the soft groaning and indecipherable muttering abruptly halted. The softly gleaming head that had hung between broad shoulders, even as he'd lifted his upper body off the ground, swivelled around and slowly looked up, wincing as he did so.

Eyes the colour of blue ice finally met mine, and it was hard not to shiver at the chill I felt under their equally cold regard. My mouth opened to speak when suddenly a horrific injury seemingly appeared out of nowhere and leached across the left side of his otherwise too-perfect face. A fresh bruise was also visible on his right temple, where I assumed it had connected with the unforgiving ground.

I jerked back in shock. "What the hell?!"

'And he just couldn't wait until he was (tentatively) invited inside before bloody well passing out!?' He did hit the ground pretty hard, to be fair. "But still...'" I grunted my discontent, almost dropping the unexpected visitor when attempting to slot the key into the lock of my front door. I'd always considered myself quite fit and strong, but he was well above the average in height, and although not built like a bodybuilder, he was a hefty weight.

The only reason I'd decided to invite him in was that since this stranger was definitely not human, I doubted it would end well for him on this particular planet.

Cursing a little more, I settled him carefully onto the ground and turned to unlock and push it wide open before again hooking my hands and arms under his broad shoulders and dragging him across the threshold. Looking both left and right of the long hallway, I quickly decided that the drawing-room at the end on my left was closer than the smaller, cosier one I used that stood much further along on my right.

"Why couldn't they have bought a smaller house?" I complained while dragging the ten-foot (slight exaggeration) male along the too-long hallway. Although, back in the day, we'd had a multitude of visitors, so size had indeed been a necessity. My parents had used the drawing-room to entertain guests. And well, he was technically a guest.

Albeit an unwelcome one.

There were vast cellars below, no handy dungeons, sadly. But even if there were, no way would I be able to lug him that far. Besides, it wouldn't be fair (yet) to assume he could be a danger to me.

Once reaching our destination, I paused for breath and took the time to figure out where I'd deposit him. Three large couches surrounded an equally large thick rectangle rug, placed in front of a vast wood-surround fireplace. It was currently unlit as no one had used the room for many years. Betty the (ex) housekeeper had always kept it dust and cobweb-free, and in her absence, only a barely-there layer of dust had coated the wooden surfaces in the room.

Being physically unable to lift him onto one of the couches, especially with all that armour he wore, I decided that the rug would have to do. I glared from the unconscious blond to the two square coffee tables that were presently adorning it. Once again, lowering my heavy burden onto the hardwood floor, I wearily traipsed over to move said tables out of the way. One thing this incident made very clear was that I really needed to hit the gym.

Luckily the rug was thick enough not to roll up as I dragged him onto it. Kneeling beside him, I now let the morbid curiosity that had had to be put on hold when he decided to lose consciousness and collapse back into a heap, flare back to life, and took the time to scrutinize the injury marring his face thoroughly.

It wasn't pretty.

The fresh-looking wound began on the left side of his forehead and tracked downwards. His left eye was a foggy-white, the loss of the eyelid causing it to look beyond creepy. Large patches of scorched skin and muscle with some missing in places, enabling a disturbing view of perfect white molars and a glimpse of the side of his tongue through his cheek.

Shuddering a little, I let my eyes slide away, noting that the injury continued over his jaw and down to his neck before disappearing under his armour and clothing. It wasn't as severe as his face. Going on a feeling, I removed the handguard and glove from his left hand resting limply on the rug and found that it also carried scars. The right hand had none. I guessed then that much of his left side was most likely in the same state as his face in varying degrees.

But confusion grew. If the wounds were so recent, why were his clothes not in a burnt and bloodied mess? It must have happened earlier. I couldn't even imagine the pain he must have had to endure redressing, especially in such heavy clothing and tightly fitting armour.

My instinct was to help. I was fortunate enough to inherit my mother's ability to heal, but doing so wouldn't be wise. There were Healers on this planet, but their "techniques" were drastically different, with relatively primitive procedures, to be honest. But then, he'd probably not met any of them, what with him falling out of an interdimensional rift.

I'd put aside the initial shock of the whole pointy-ear thing; it was apparent he was most definitely not human before I'd even noticed them. But something inside had surged with brief excitement. What with his glowy skin and backlit eyes. Could he be…?

But, no. That long-ago moment in time, I knew it couldn't be so.

'Maybe I should have just called an ambulance after all?' Belatedly rethinking the whole bringing-a-complete-stranger-into-my-home idea. But I knew that a fair proportion of humans – especially their governing bodies, leaned towards xenophobia. They'd think he was an alien (which he was), freak out, and cart him off to some lab to, most likely, dissect him. So, still a big fat no to that idea.

Pulling my thoughts together, I brought my attention back to the prone figure. Taking into account that the stranger had emerged from a rift, I was pretty sure of what species he wasn't. The kind of transportation I was familiar with wasn't able to travel to different realities or even timelines. What to do…?

The more I scrutinized his wounds, the less heed I took of my understandable wariness. Leaning in closer, something strangely familiar caused me to gasp in surprise.

'He's using a glamour?' Which meant that the injury couldn't be so recent after all since the illusion took time to perfect. 'But why does it still look so… raw?' I wondered with appalled curiosity.

Although the illusion was pretty basic and relatively weak compared to the autonomous one I knew of, it had a very similar makeup. If I was correct, it should reassert itself as soon as his natural energy level recovered. And just maybe, he wouldn't notice that there was no longer anything there for it to hide? At least until he returned to wherever - or whenever- it was.

I could work with that.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I carefully placed one hand on his forehead and reached down to clasp his left hand. Softly chanting the words my mother taught me, I closed my eyes and inwardly reached out to assess the full extent of his injuries, then envisioned the careful repair of muscle, tissue, skin, and the damaged eye.

Shadows had lengthened, and darkness surrounded us by the time I'd finished. Climbing sluggishly to my feet, I stretched out cramped muscles and then switched on a lamp that was far enough away not to shine on the face of the still-unconscious figure. Pausing above him on my way out, I finally allowed my appreciative gaze to roam his perfect features.

God, he's exquisite. But like my father always said, "Look with your soul to truly see how deep one's beauty goes." I recalled my "guest's" icy glare and the arrogant set to his face and shivered. It could have been due to his abrupt and painful entrance into this world, but a part of me felt that the frigid expression was most likely his resting bitch face.

It crossed my mind as to whether or not I should tie him up. At least he didn't have any weapons. I'd made sure to check. Not that he would need them, considering that the top of my head would barely reach his armpit if he were standing. I glanced at his hands: long, smooth, and slim. Just by looking, I could tell that a single one of them would have no trouble whatsoever wrapping itself around my neck.

Another shiver ran down my spine at the thought. For the last several months, I had been the only person living on this estate. The nearest neighbours were several miles away from the perimeter of our land, and we'd always kept to ourselves.

Maybe I'd been a bit too hasty letting the housekeeper and gardener go so soon? They'd still had a couple of months before their official retirement, but it had suited me at the time. Who could stop him if he decided to murder me in my bed? The thought wiped away any desire to sleep for the foreseeable future, but I still couldn't bring myself to truss him up like a turkey.

Something I'd tucked away in one of my bedside cupboards popped into my head. Hopefully, it still held a charge. I'd have preferred my old and trusty Katana, but that weapon would be the peak of irony, considering his medieval garb; plus, I had a feeling I'd be truly outmatched.

Figuring that my guest would likely soon awaken, I hot-footed it upstairs to retrieve it. I decided to change my thick sweater for a lighter cotton top before heading to the kitchen to make something to eat. I was in no mood for a confrontation on an empty stomach.