Excerpt from Blood for Blood (Zytarri) – Exam and Recognize Your Mate

Blood for Blood (a tale of Zytarri)

#futuristic #fantasy #vampires #aliens #erotic romance #science fiction #MF

The Past…

bloodforblood_med1Leora Saguna has become what her kind fear most—a blood huntress. Fueled by a lust for revenge for the assassination of her Alpha, she has violated every Sangorrian law to track the murderers down. And one day return to her infant daughter, Katriel.

Each time Noah Chisca watches his mark take macabre delight in her task, he is one dead bandit closer to earning the highest bounty of his career. Yet he can’t deny the desire that twists his gut. He takes her captive; she takes him as her mate.

The Present…

Katriel knows bonding with the mate her mother has chosen will ensure her future as heir. But the memory of the forbidden warrior monk who stole her heart haunts her, and she rebels.

Valyn’s identity is hidden until he’s proven himself worthy of Katriel. But fighting a deadly dragon is only the beginning of their nightmare, as sinister forces conspire to shake the foundations of Sangorrian society and unleash a reign of blood that may destroy them all.

Amazon Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BWP7QHP

 

EXCERPT

Leora again studied him silently for a long time. Slowly she rose to her feet and walked around the side of the desk. “Disrobe, please. I wish to confirm the replica was not altered concerning your suitability and lack of abnormalities.”

He had known this was coming. A part of him rebelled at being ordered to disrobe before her, but he raised his hands and unbuttoned the brown robe, allowing it to drop to the floor at his feet. He then returned to the stance of respect and waited, focusing his attention on the window just past where Noah stood.

Leora walked toward him. He felt her assessing gaze as it roved over him and refused to let it shake him or respond to it.

She slowly circuited him, apparently studying him from every angle. She stopped to examine the long slashing wound on his arm, seemed to assess each bruise and cut, categorizing every nuance of his body.

Finally, she halted in front of him and nodded. “Your wounds are a reflection of your bravery. It is my opinion that you are well-suited as a mate for my daughter. Your conduct and bravery have already shown you will be a good protector. You may …”

The door to her office burst open, interrupting her words.

“Mother, please …” a frantic feminine voice spoke from behind him, then stopped abruptly.

Valyn, unashamed of his nakedness, turned his head to see who was there and was shocked to find himself staring into the startled gaze of his soon-to-be mate. She was everything he had remembered, and more so. Her long dark hair fell in dishevelment about her face, her breasts heaved with agitation, and her pale pink lips were rounded in apparent shock. But what surprised him most was the dilated dark smoky depths of her eyes. Darkened with what could only be lust.

She had eyes for no one else in the room once she saw him standing there. He saw tears pool within their depths, the startled recognition. “What is your name?” she whispered hoarsely.

He turned toward her, and her mouth gaped wider; her eyes dilated more intensely, and he saw her hands clench at her side.

“My name is Valyn, Lady. I have come for you as I vowed I would.”

“Valyn,” she repeated. Her small pink tongue licked at her succulent lips, tears trailing down her face. He felt his cock take on a life of its own. “You have come. It is truly you? How can this be?”

“I made you a promise, and it has led me to this path.”

“Katri, you should not be here,” her mother protested.

Katriel turned to look at her mother with panicked, glazed eyes. “I need him, Mother. How you found him, I do not know, but I need him desperately.” She glanced back at him.

He took a step toward her and stopped, not wanting to frighten her. Instead, she stepped to where he waited. Valyn could smell her arousal as she neared him. He cupped her face and lowered his head. She closed her eyes and sighed as he dropped forward to capture her lips. Nothing and no one else in this room mattered. Only the woman who offered herself to him — the woman he had yearned for all these years, and for whom he had prepared himself to take.

Had anything ever tasted as sweet, and had any woman felt like such absolute bliss? Deepening the kiss, she opened to him, and he felt her hands inch upward along his bare chest, felt a sharp prick as her nails dug into his flesh. Ah, sweet pain. Unlike the ache of battle, this intensity of feeling was far different. He wanted more, needed to feel her fangs piercing him as he sank his cock into her pussy.

Thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he tasted her, grazed against her petite incisor and tasted his own blood as it filled her mouth. As though galvanized, she sucked, then sucked harder, opened her eyes wide, staring at him as his lifeblood spilled into her. She curled closer to his body, her nails digging deeper into his chest.

Yes, oh gods, yes. If only we were alone. It was not true pain he felt but an aching need to claim her, to burrow his cock deep inside her hot, tight channel. He wanted to feel her pulsing around him, clasping him, wanted —

He lifted his head to gaze down at her. She moaned, her claws retracted from his chest, and she collapsed in his arms, her eyelids fluttering closed. He caught her and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the lounge chair he had seen upon entering the office.

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Pandemonia: Combustible – an excerpt

Pandemonia: Combustible

(#MM, #futuristic, #dystopian, #menage #erotic romance, #BDSM)

combustible_medEarth of 4035 is a wasteland populated with sectors of penal colonies, seeded through the generations by its life-long inhabitants of criminals, lunatics, political prisoners, and DNA-spliced mutants, all ruled by a powerful conglomerate of scientific researchers called the Nucleate.

One such sector, Pandemonia, is situated on the former European continent in the vicinity of Paris, now a hunting ground of a world gone horribly awry.

Drayce Eth, of dragogen-spliced DNA creation, rules one quandrant of Old Paris with a strong hand. He has never mated, never taken a long-term lover, and has always denied the instincts of his dragogen-spliced DNA. But then he encounters an attractive disciple and slave of his arch-enemy, Dr. Francois Beljon, and a simple game of poke-the-bear to relieve his ennui may just result in more than Drayce ever expected. It may also be exactly what he needs when his mating instincts are aroused by this least likely of potential mates.

Crispen Wills is a product of the mean streets. He’s a survivor—a dancer, a liar, a scavenger, and whatever else will serve to keep him alive. But when he becomes a desirable pawn in a treacherous game, it could easily cost him his life. What Crispen never expects is to fall in love with the powerful dragogen that his master has sent him to destroy.

Passions mix with danger in a highly flammable game devoid of rules and safe words, where all’s fair in love, lust…and death. Only a fool would dare to risk everything for a fleeting chance at love, especially when that lover could easily barbecue you should you make one false step.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079674H85

 

EXCERPT

“Have Ion send the boy to me after his performance tonight. Let’s see if we can squeeze any more information out of him than he’s deigned to share thus far. Any tidbit we can discern about the running of the cathedral gives us ammunition for future consideration.”

“I can have Taylor beat it out of him,” Zadrian suggested.

Ever since the loss of his lover, Zadrian had become even more bloodthirsty in his tactics. Sometimes he took some reining in. His canine nature was beginning to consume his humazoid side. It had been over a year since he’d lost Jazz to the Nucleate. He had to repair himself. He needed a new focus.

“Zadrian, reel it in. I said not yet. Just send the whelp to me.”

Zadrian saluted. “As you command, boss.”

“Fuck you,” Drayce responded.

Zadrian grinned, exposing his sharp teeth, but the amusement never entered his eyes. It never did these days. “Hell, you want him, you might as well take him. That is what you want, isn’t it? You want to fuck him. That’s why you’re dragging your spikes on this one. Shall I tell Ion to deliver him with a bottle of barbecue sauce?”

Drayce ignored the last taunt. Sometimes Zadrian overstepped. But then the captain had been around a long time. There was no point in lying. Zadrian would see right through that and think less of him for doing it.

“What I want and what I’ll take are two different things entirely. You know that. The whelp is here for one reason.”

“Do you really think Beljon will barter for his return? Beljon has no concern for human life. He’ll just replace this one with another. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he’ll just kill or use it for experimentation. And then destroy it when it goes bad.”

Drayce glared at Zadrian. “Jazz again.”

And now there was emotion in Zadrian’s eyes. Pain flared and Drayce heard the low rumbling growl in his throat.

“We almost lost you as well, if you’ll recall, when they went after him to get to you. That’s all that was about—getting to you. They would have killed him anyway. He was never strong enough to survive here. Even with you protecting him.”

“Fine. But you should remember as well. The weak ones don’t survive long. The whelp is a pretty little thing, but he can’t last long. Use him up, entertain yourself, but I wouldn’t recommend getting attached. He won’t survive either.”

If he was truly weak as he pretended to be, Drayce would agree. But Drayce had watched Crispen these last nights, and Crispen was far from weak. In fact, there was an undercurrent about him that told Drayce above all else, he was a survivor. A devious sort of survivor. Not at all what he appeared. And only a strong, steady hand could bring him to heel. But Drayce didn’t have the time to take on a pet. And Zadrian was right about one thing. In their world, pets didn’t really survive very long. There were traitors in every sector, and the Rouge was no exception. And it was the weak ones on whom they preyed.

Zadrian stared back at him, neither man relenting, nor looking away. In another man, Drayce would have considered it a challenge to be met and the upper hand forced. But then, as though knowing he had to be first, Zadrian looked away. He nodded. “All right, Drayce. Have it your way. But we can’t wait forever. We’ll only look weak. We’re going to have to do something. Toy with it and then finish this thing.”

“I’m not felinogen in that respect. Just remember that. I don’t toy without a purpose. You just be careful it’s not strictly revenge you’re after, and you lose your head and your life because of it.”

Zadrian stared at him with a bleak look. “I lost my life a year ago, Drayce. There really isn’t much left for me to lose. Beljon made his point very clearly.” He spun about and stalked out the door.

Drayce felt for the man. He’d lost his mate, and the DNA in Zadrian’s blood probably wouldn’t let him accept another, at least not easily. It was the way the caninogens were marked. One life, one mate. Dragogens, on the other hand, had no problem keeping a herd full of amusements. Like felinogens in some ways, they were fond of dominating multiple partners. Maybe he was too much like Beljon, and that was a truly distasteful thought. Or maybe Beljon had a bit of dragogen DNA in his make-up. Yeah, that was a much more palatable thought.

Drayce hadn’t built a herd of his own. That sort of thing made a man vulnerable in a place like this. Instead, with running an establishment like the Rouge, he had a plentiful supply of dancers who came and went in his bed when he felt a particular itch, flitting in and out as he wanted. Which is why he couldn’t figure out why he was so fixated on this whelp. He didn’t need him, but damned if he didn’t want him. Far more than he should.

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Haevyn and Emotional Cost

 

Haevyn_smIn Quentopolis women have been relegated to secondary status in many cases. Women of the working class society, lead very difficult lives. The Elite are treated more as pampered dolls, cosseted and spoiled, to be seen but not heard, with some similarity to that experienced in the 19th century. Yet, as with any society, there are some who do not tow the line, who break from this suffocating sort of bondage.

There are women–some surviving by their wits and intelligence, some by courage and an adventurous spirit–these are women who strive to break free. Some, like Silver from the first book in this series, end up paying a high price, including human and personal freedom. For some, such as the courtesan madam, Violette Goldswan, they wield their power through different, more shadowy avenues. And some, like Haevyn Breina, will attempt to rise through the more public ranks, clawing their way to a position where they have a chance of gaining societal acceptance as an equal, and gaining respect in the more demanding arena of this male-dominated society. None of this is accomplished without emotional cost. None of these women face and accept the challenges of this rather brutal society in quite the same way. For Haevyn, the rewards are worth the steep price. She does not back down from doing what must be done.

In Quentopolis, sexual relations and sexuality are very open and accepted parts of this society. For some it is about pleasure, for some it is a tool to rise through the ranks. Sex is used for negotiation; it is also a shared bond between friends. And it is also an art form, highly prized by a nobility class known as the Dominatae.

Haevyn Breina is of the Moondown Water District working class. Her parents were killed in a factory fire, leaving the care of her younger brother, Bhrett, in her hands. Responsibility came to her at a young age and she accepted it, along with every hardship and payment that security demanded. She gave up her virginity to a higher purpose and though it left her bruised and battered, she has never regretted her choices. When a brand new arm of the Regulate opens up to females, she jumps at the chance, even though strictly speaking the Compsociate Branch is considered by many to be simply a finely labeled government sanctioned army of courtesans in service to the upper Regulate officers. Haevyn accepts the challenge determined to rise within the ranks, but it is not without additional damage to her psyche.

Her lover and friend, Grisha, has served as her anchor, her “calm, safe haven” throughout her life. A simple fisherman, he is far distanced from the machinations of the political arena. But Grisha, more wise than Haevyn realizes, knows there is more that his lovely, wounded lover needs than the warmth and healing of his loving embrace. He knows very well how close to the edge she really is. But so is his other lover, an expatriate Orictan warrior by the name of Entreus.

In any world an emotional cost must attach, though all creatures deal with trauma differently. Some will splinter, some will rise to meet the challenge of adversity and fashion it into their strength. Some bear an anger or rage–they try to ignore or funnel through some other channel. Entreus funnels his rage and frustration through the illegal Cockrage events. Haevyn tries to bury her anger beneath a veneer of tightly-held control. Grisha knows this about each of them and has a sense of their needs.

How these three people adapt, grow, and hopefully heal is at the emotional core of this story. The journey is complicated by a very dangerous and deadly enemy to the city-state whom they must battle.

This is the world of Humanotica. Read an excerpt from “Haevyn,” the second book in the Humanotica series…

Read an excerpt from Silver, the first book in the Humanotica series.

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Haevyn buy links:

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078C51G5Z
Smashwords Buy Link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/816536
Books2Read Universal Link (B&N, Kobo, etc.): https://www.books2read.com/u/4DowAQ

 

 

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Silver buy links:

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074PB91BV
Books2Read Universal Link (B&N, Kobo, etc.): https://www.books2read.com/u/mvjP6X
Smashwords Buy Link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/772872

 

Zytarri: Blood for Blood, an excerpt

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BLURB

#futuristic #fantasy #vampires #aliens #erotic romance #science fiction #MF

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection on Amazon.

 

The Past…

Leora Saguna has become what her kind fear most—a blood huntress. Fueled by a lust for revenge for the assassination of her Alpha, she has violated every Sangorrian law to track the murderers down. And one day return to her infant daughter, Katriel.

Each time Noah Chisca watches his mark take macabre delight in her task, he is one dead bandit closer to earning the highest bounty of his career. Yet he can’t deny the desire that twists his gut. He takes her captive; she takes him as her mate.

The Present…

Katriel knows bonding with the mate her mother has chosen will ensure her future as heir. But the memory of the forbidden warrior monk who stole her heart haunts her, and she rebels.

Valyn’s identity is hidden until he’s proven himself worthy of Katriel. But fighting a deadly dragon is only the beginning of their nightmare, as sinister forces conspire to shake the foundations of Sangorrian society and unleash a reign of blood that may destroy them all.

EXCERPT

He tracked her for long hours, watched as the sun arrowed downward to a point where it stretched to a carpet of gold across the horizon. The sight was breathtaking as the light settled upon the shores of the murderous Sabul Sea, turning the acidic water a fiery red. Noah wondered if the crimson shade reminded the woman of her home planet. He quickened his pace as she headed toward the razor-sharp black volcanic ledge teetering over the surge.

If she dove into those swirling waters, her flesh would burn and peel away, a thousand times worse than any damage a blazing-red midday Zadolan sun would do to her. Far worse than any punishment and execution her own kind would inflict upon her for her vengeful misdeeds. It would be a slow and agonizing death, if the sea serpents didn’t get to her first. His long-legged strides shifted into a jog as he watched her remove her sword and carefully lay it on the ground. She slowly removed her skins of battle—she unlaced the tall boots and removed them, then she unlaced and removed the brown vest. As she began to remove the last piece, his pace increased to a dead run. He couldn’t take the time to appreciate the stunning, pale beauty of her skin. He could think only of what that terrible sea would do to her, and if she jumped, there was no way he could save her. He had to get to her before that happened.

Now naked, she knelt and prayed to her gods. Noah hoped her meditation would offer him just enough time to reach her. As he climbed the vicious volcanic rock, scoring his flesh to get to her, she gracefully rose to her feet and stood at the rim, gazing down into the roiling sea. The sunset bathed her in its pale copper light, and in any other circumstances, the vision would have frozen him dead in his tracks. Like a goddess, she stood poised above the deadly waters, arms stretched above her head.

It was just as she leaped that he caught her, a strong arm banded around her, dragging her away from the edge, sending them both to the ground. He twisted, taking the brunt of the rocky surface, locking her to him, protecting her. He wasn’t ready for the suddenness of her transition. The weary woman he’d tracked morphed almost instantaneously into a snarling, vicious she-cat. Fangs snapping, claws striking out at him, they rolled over the jagged ground. Her teeth scraped across his neck. He grabbed a hank of her hair and yanked back. As fast as she was, he anticipated her every move, foiled her attempts to maim him, to kill him—to drink him dry.

Wounds littered her body and blood dripped from the rocks by the time he had her on her belly, her hands and feet tethered with bindings of tough leather. Breathing hard, he yanked her up. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, cloaking her nakedness. He wanted to push it back, to expose her and drink in her beauty. Almost as if she heard his thoughts, she lifted her head and glared at him. Her mane flew back. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her head proudly, her lips drawn tight in a twisted semblance of a smile. “So kill me,” she said. “Or do you mean to have the savage Sangorrian first and then kill her?”

By the gods, she was magnificent. If he followed the lawless rabble of Zadolan, he would take her right now. Spread her out on this hard, unyielding rock and brutally fuck her, and then slit her throat. If he were true to his blood and to the barbarian he’d been brought up to be, that was what he would have done. It would have made his job easier. The council had not demanded she be returned alive.

But Noah Chisca had made his destiny his own. And within him dwelled an ethical imperative not grounded in Zadolan lawlessness. He’d created his own set of laws. He wasn’t after rape. He didn’t want the money the council had offered. He didn’t want her dead.

“Don’t presume to know me, Leora Saguna of Ebonnia.” He grabbed her arms and yanked her against his body. “I’ve tracked you since your first kill. I could have had you any time I wanted. Your council wants you back—dead or alive.”

“So kill me now. It seems to me I would be much less of a burden that way. You’re a bounty hunter—I would expect you’d prefer the most expedient way of collecting your reward.”

“It’s a hefty one, I’ll give you that. As I have few needs, it would set me up nicely for the rest of my life.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, exposing her long, beautiful neck. “Then do it.”

He curled his hand into her hair and gazed at her lush, blood-tinged lips and the hint of lethal incisors. And then he swooped down to capture her mouth with his own, tasting her savage nature, exploring the passion of her mouth. He drank of her as greedily as she’d drunk the blood of her enemies.

He pulled her closer to him as he deepened the kiss, felt his own blood fill her mouth as her teeth razed his tongue and his lips. The fire inside him roared with a savageness he’d never experienced before.

And then she became a heavy weight in his arms. He pulled back and studied her. He loosened his tight grip and lifted her unconscious body into his arms. His strong, beautiful blood huntress had fainted.

Amazon Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BWP7QHP

Bone to Metal – an excerpt from Silver

Humanotica, Book 1

Silver, born female, is now an owned gender-mated trinex thanks to the edicts of the Politico Judicalati and time imprisoned at the Factorium. She must choose between her charismatic power-elite, secretive owner, Minister of Acquisitions & Antiquities, Lel Kesselbaum, and a seductive revolutionary, Entreus, a humanotic who tempts her with freedom.
Not all is as it seems–allies who may be traitors, lovers who are more than they appear. A power-mad government, a machine known as the Elite Logical Life Core that uses human intelligence for its knowledge source. The Factorium that acquires humans as research fodder for their experiments and then spits them out when they are of no further use. Sex used as a tool to unearth enemies and traitors, and intimately align allies. Love that is not simple, relationships that are dangerously complex. This is Silver’s highly-complex world.

One misstep in the fight for freedom could mean death for them all.

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Warning: Not for the faint of heart.

As one reviewer said about this story: …an intensely sexual read, with innovative obscenities and novel delights that never cease to amaze…

You’ve been warned…

 

 

EXCERPT

“This is the package from Dr. Starlinger?” he asks as he picks up the small parcel from the gleaming surface.

I cringe at the thought of what is inside, but I try to keep my expression impassive.

“Yes, Dominor.”

He studies it almost reverently and then carefully peels back the layers of white cotton. I want to twist away. My stomach roils at the sight of the innocuous-looking wooden box.

“Lovely,” he murmurs as he raises the lid and strokes a finger over the contents. He lifts the small, thick envelope holding the thin silver punch cards—the latest replication of my brain patterns. They’re a duplicate set to that which will be fed into the Core by the doctors. It is mandated by the Politico that all information, whether set to government gold or non-official silver or bronze, be assimilated into the community intelligence of the Core for processing. Not to do so is considered a traitorous act punishable either by Factorium confinement or death.

They appear to be such fragile things to hold the contents of my thoughts, my emotions, the very essence of my human energy. I know there will be more changes from the previous version. There always are; it is inevitable. Even though the doctors don’t tamper with my brain, what they do to my body impacts my mind, so the cards are always etched and studied after modification.

The minister walks to the closet and steps inside. There are secret places hidden within the walls of this estate. I’m not privy to most of those secured rooms, but I know they exist.

I know where he’s headed as he disappears inside the closet. Another hidden door leading to a secret vault. This room alone he’s shown me, when he placed my first memory cards into safekeeping within the vault.

It’s where he keeps these bits of prized possessions I always return with from the Factorium. These new items will be placed into the box inside the drawer marked with my human name, Elissa Longview. The woman I’d once been. More pieces of me to be separated and locked away. Inwardly, I rage with my impotence. But the anger seems less fierce than it used to be. I try to call upon the full flame of my anger. It worries me that I can no longer depend upon its empowering fury to remind me of my losses, to keep me strong.

Later, he will bring out the red velvet box, along with his personal Intellometer. He’ll attach the wires to himself and feed my thoughts into his own mind. He will watch me as he dissects the changes, assimilates them into his own thought processes. Compartmentalizes them in order to access them when he wishes. Sometimes he’ll echo my own words back to me to prove his control even of that part of me he allows to remain mechanically unaltered. When he does that, I feel utterly vulnerable and powerless. Which, of course, is what he wants.

I, who had once dreamed of becoming an engineer and working in the mysterious Factorium, am now simply a product of it. High aspirations for one so lowly born, and an orphan, at that. But I’d almost made it. I would have, if not for my attraction to Minister Kesselbaum—and for his to the young man I’d pretended to be.

I had learned over the last many months to suppress my human thoughts as much as possible, compartmentalizing and locking them away as though they were separate from me, so he couldn’t find them when he assimilated the silver cards I always returned with. It had become a game of sorts, something to live for. A battle of wits against my owner. I think he knows what I do and enjoys the challenge. I can’t hide my body—what is left of it. He owns me in total. One speck of emotion I can secret away is a small battle won.

But my mind is something he hasn’t replaced—at least not yet. There is ongoing research at the Factorium in that area. As far as I know from his discussions at various social functions where the doctors are present, the experiments thus far haven’t been completely successful. I know my time is running out. There will be no glimmer of memory of what I was. But he will have it—there, in that red velvet box—on the sets of cards that one day will contain all I had been.

There are others in that secret vault. Deliveries when his manservant will present him with a box. He will open the package, examine the contents thoroughly and then take them to the hidden room to be assimilated later and locked away. These he will not share with me.

He’s not in the mood for a private concert tonight, but I’ve been given a sheaf of music to memorize. I’m reprieved from that this evening. Tonight there are other games he wishes to engage in, other torments at hand.

I sit in a chair in front of the fireplace, wearing a transparent white lace negligee with matching wrapper trimmed in black satin. The corset beneath rises to just beneath my breasts, forcing them up against the expensive material. My ribs are constrained tightly, forced close. I know he is testing the modifications. Will they yield as they are meant to? Or will they snap the same as my fragile human bones would have done with such tight confinement? My breaths are shallow, painful. The front of the gown dips low, exposing the full curves of my breasts. My silver-tipped nipples shimmer in the firelight. My legs are curled beneath me. I hold myself erect, shoulders straight. Now I am able to breathe. I sip from the glass of golden cognac Silver3_smhe has allowed me this evening. Warmth curls in my belly. It helps to mellow the pain.

He sits across the room at his desk, the red velvet box opened, a soft sky blue polishing cloth in his hand. He has already carved his initials—and mine—into the marrow. He lifts out the first piece from the box and holds it up to the light. Instinctively, I brush the fingertips of one hand along my imprisoned ribcage. I want to reach out to snatch the items from the desk, and my fingers curl into a clenched fist against my flesh.

Not my fingers. Not my ribs. Not my legs. What will be next?

 

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Haevyn – an excerpt

In a city controlled by men, her choices will destroy her or empower her. There is no middle ground. And the love of two very different men may yet define her triumph…

 

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Duty and honor demand the ultimate sacrifice.

Everyone has their poison. For Haevyn Breina, it’s her inability to resist a dare. This time it’s a challenge from her friend and lover, Grisha, to sneak into the popular, illegal cage fights that always end in all-male orgies. Eagerly she snaps up the gauntlet, unaware that she will end the night forever changed.

When expatriate humanotic warrior Entreus locks eyes with Haevyn at the sex-fueled event, he is instantly captivated. Despite a duty that binds him to an exiled malevolent sorcerer, he seeks her out in a shattering, illuminating encounter.

Grisha’s plan is in motion—to bring both his warrior lovers together and heal their scarred souls with a combined passion that he alone cannot provide. But Haevyn’s tormented past refuses to die. And Entreus will not rest until the Core (the ELLC) that ruined his life is destroyed.

Amid ever-tangling emotions and a brutal plot to take over the city, the three lovers walk a tightrope that could be cut at any moment. Fighting for justice, bound by duty…and a love that could alter the foundations of their world.

Excerpt

“You shouldn’t be out walking these docks alone.”

She whirled around, a hand going to the weapon in the deep pocket of her cloak. Instinct kicked in.

It was him, the humanotic champion from the Cockrage. Her fingers curled around the unyielding handle of the revolver. Just that act alone offered some security. She should have scented him, known he was near. Facing him, though he stood some distance away in deeper shadows untouched by the bright moonlight, she took a cautious step back. He reeked still of game-savage intensity. And the scent of that barbarian earthiness appealed to her in a way it shouldn’t. But now, at least, he was partially clothed, though the trousers fit him all too snugly.

“Are you following me?” she asked in a deceptively deep tone, still trying to mask her sex. He stepped forward, lamplight spilling over him, glinting on his bare, skinmetal chest. Gods help her, why was she drawn to this stranger so peculiarly? She fought the attraction with everything she had, but it was almost more than she could withstand. Something seemed…different about him. Or maybe it was just the energy of the night still drenching her from the games. Aberrant attraction. She would be the cause of her own destruction if she wasn’t careful.

He shrugged. “I saw you at the fights. I knew you weren’t one of them. Perhaps you intrigue me. There’s little in this dimension that…arouses me of late.”

The tenseness of his half-guarded expression seemed familiar—a resonance in the intensity that shot through her, sporiti-deep. She connected with that emotion. Understood it. The cowl of her coat still shrouded her face; the bulkiness of the outer garment engulfed her form. “I’m not what you think I am.”

Her nipples drew tight and hard as an unexpected desire took root. She saw a glint in his eyes and knew that probably, with his altered senses, he could smell her arousal.

He took another step toward her. “You belong to Grisha. I saw you with him. Why are you out here alone?”

“What’s it to you?” Her heart pounded. They were alone here in the dead of night. He might do anything to her.

Anything at all.

Her nipples scraped against the rough fabric of the binding beneath her shirt, the contact shooting a jolt of blistering desire through her body down to her cunt. She fought for control; her fingers trembled against the grip of the gun, but it wasn’t because she was chilled, nor was it from fear. What would it be like to fuck him? She already knew every inch of his man-flesh from the cockfight. She’d seen him aroused. Had watched him dominate and claim sexual victory over his opponent. She had even imagined herself in the place of that vanquished warrior, feeling that cock penetrating deeply into her pussy.

Haevyn tightened her fingers around the revolver. With her other hand, she reached up and yanked back the hood of her coat so the champion could see exactly what she was. She waited for his reaction. His expression didn’t alter in the way she expected. Somewhere in their depths, she saw…recognition that went deeper. A foreshadowing. A connection.

He had known she was female. She saw it in the deepening of his expression. No surprise. No shock. More an acknowledgment of what he’d expected.

“Yes, Grisha’s,” he said, stepping closer. “I doubt he would want you to be alone on the docks at this time of night. It’s not safe.”

She loosened the grip on her weapon. Every sensation sharpened. Another, alien emotion melded with arousal. Outside of Grisha, she had never lain with a man purely for pleasure. Even her relationship with Grisha didn’t leave her feeling as though a raging ball of fire burned inside her gut. Her response to this man took her by surprise, and she wasn’t necessarily ready for the…elemental lust that consumed her. She didn’t want to know this humanotic’s true identity. She didn’t want to give him hers. But, by the gods, she wanted to fuck him. She wanted him so badly it hurt—hurt so damned good.

Fear tinged that sensation, deepened it. And in this moment, she had no thought about what came before or after. These were the moments she lived for, her senses firing on every level, gut-deep, primal. This was what she craved.

Haevyn eased her hand away from the gun and waited for him to make the first move. He stepped forward, apparently understanding the silent invitation. He drew close, so close she could feel his heat.

“I want you,” he said without preamble.

“So have me.” Neither was she in the mood for coyness or flirtation.

He unfastened her cloak, and it dropped to the boards. He studied her a long, heart-pounding moment. She reached out, slipped a hand inside the waistband of his simple linen trousers. Found him hard and ready for her. She remembered the look of that cock, oiled slick in the cage. She recalled watching, unable to look away, as he reigned triumphant o

ver his vanquished opponent.

“I know what you want,” he said. He yanked the tail of her shirt from the confinement of her britches, even as her fingers curled around that thick, hot cock imprisoned inside his pants.

“Unfasten my trousers,” he said. He unbuttoned her shirt, unwound the binding and tossed it away. Her breasts popped free, nipples erect, exposed and vulnerable. Cool air mated with hot flesh, causing her to shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.” She definiHaevyn_smtely wasn’t cold. Her hands shaking from the need to have him buried inside her, Haevyn released the fastening on his pants, and his big prick burst free of the confinement. His was a human prick, not made of humanotic material. That this part of him was human pleased her.

“Here, on the dock? Or some place more private?” He cupped her breast with his humanotic hand.

She noticed a slight difference in texture and warmth, but only marginally different from human hands. The touch sent a current of electricity zinging through her body, arrowing down to her vagina. He could easily crush her. Breathlessly, she leaned into him. He kneaded her breast, a touch of skinmetal to human flesh, and she barely caught the moan before it escaped her throat. “Here. Now.”

 

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Silver – an excerpt

 

Humanotica, Book 1

Silver, born female, is now an owned gender-mated trinex thanks to the edicts of the Politico Judicalati and time imprisoned at the Factorium. She must choose between her charismatic power-elite, secretive owner, Minister of Acquisitions & Antiquities, Lel Kesselbaum, and a seductive revolutionary, Entreus, a humanotic who tempts her with freedom.

Not all is as it seems–allies who may be traitors, lovers who are more than they appear. A power-mad government, a machine known as the Elite Logical Life Core that uses human intelligence for its knowledge source. The Factorium that acquires humans as research fodder for their experiments and then spits them out when they are of no further use. Sex used as a tool to unearth enemies and traitors, and intimately align allies. Love that is not simple, relationships that are dangerously complex. This is Silver’s highly-complex world.

One misstep in the fight for freedom could mean death for them all.

 

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Excerpt

I stand in the center of the bedroom, naked and awaiting his attention. It is always Kesselbaum who dresses me for an outing. He never allows me to do it myself. A garter belt and cream-colored silk stockings sheath my flesh. Open pantalettes beneath the trousers. There is a wide-lapeled jacket to match the trousers. Lilac corset laced tight as it would go, flattening my breasts.

My hair is plaited in two braids that are then bound tightly to my head with hairpins. The shoes to grace my feet are masculine and black shiny leather.

“Turn,” he says once I am dressed.

The suit fits well, the jacket tapered. For now, my femaleness is imprisoned and shrouded.

“Violette likes her packages brightly decorated. She’ll want to take her time unwrapping you.” He nods. “Yes, you should please her.”

“She has something you want very much,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself. Is that an edge of jealousy to my tone?

It surprises even me.

“What did you say?” he asks in a very measured tone. I have overstepped and I know it. I also know I hit the mark. This is a barter arrangement. Most likely there is a boy at the dominia’s household who my master particularly wishes to sample. And I am the payment.

I bow my head and drop to my knees as quickly as I can. “My apologies, Dominor.” Discipline administered by my master will only make the day harder to bear. More painful. It has been a long time since I have endured punishment. They are just words, as I do not feel particularly apologetic right now. For my own well being, it is best I shield my thoughts.

“Apology accepted. I will not reprimand. Violette would not be pleased to have some of the edge of her play taken from her. But overstep again or cause me to lose face with her and you will suffer my…displeasure.”

I shudder to think what form that might take. Pushing him will not help me. I must endure.

“Come along. The carriage should be ready. You don’t want to be late for your appointment.”

I lift to my feet and follow him out of the bedroom. We make our way silently down the staircase and out the front door.

coppermanA first view of the carriage and two always takes my breath away. The humanotics are huge, copper-skinned males. Their oiled flesh gleams beneath the heat and golden light of the sun. Long black hair intricately plaited in one braid, the tip painting the curve of strong buttocks. Muscles bulging, thick, pliant black leathers for the most part their only adornment. The smallest triangles of modesty leather cover their huge, bulging erections; a slender strap of rolled leather nudges close, fitted neatly between the creases of their glorious ass cheeks; a narrower line of leather circles perfect, lean hips.

I remember when Master bought them the year before. I had accompanied him to the auctions. They had been rough, unkempt and untrained, but Kesselbaum apparently saw the promise of increased investment in the pair. A year of hard training has melded the set of twin humanotics into an amazing, eye-catching team many are envious of.

Part of their duties is to maintain the light carriage in perfect, polished and well-oiled working order. It is a copper-colored, burnished, sturdy metal to match the team, almost more chariot than carriage, with intricate decoration, yet different in that it is open at the front rather than the rear, with room enough just for two to sit comfortably on the black-velvet cushioned bench. This light carriage was not so sturdily constructed as to engage in a fast race. This one is designed for flashy show, for a slow amble along the lush green perimeter of the Terraverda the promenadeThoroughfare. A finely manicured, grassy perambulatory path has been incorporated into the elite areas of Quentopolis for just such a purpose. It is maintained in pristine state by residents of the workhouses. People hungry for survival tend the paths in the blackest hours between midnight and five to maintain the pathways in perfect harmony for those who could afford to use them.

Kesselbaum’s hand on my arm is firm as he assists me into the carriage next to the well-appointed driver dressed in a livery of black velvet and silver. It is the rare occasion when my owner sends me off on my own. Two residence protectors trail us on foot.

Kesselbaum steps back. “Remember what I said, Silver. Perfect service.”

I gaze down at my hands, in some part afraid of what he will see in my eyes.

“Yes, Dominor.”

As the carriage pulls away, the humanotics trotting in perfect synchronicity, we circle out past the main tall iron gates of the well-manicured grounds of the dominium. For an instant, I feel a surge of adrenaline shoot through me as I inhale a brief moment of fragrant freedom. But quickly the manacles of ownership settle back into place as I watch the copper pair harnessed to the carriage.

Their muscled buttocks ripple with the momentum, thighs sculpted and thick. They are so very male—sleek and powerful. Oiled skin sheens with sweat as they mount the path to Morganelle Hill. The one on the left tosses his head and sunlight glimmers across the blue-black gloss of his hair. The team is truly eye-catching.

I see the colorful outline of the Luminary gleaming brightly at the crest of the hill. And I can’t help but wonder what awaits me at the mansion. The only comfort I can take is that I know it is forbidden for me to be displayed or used in the public rooms. As I understand the laws, with a dominor’s permission, any Dominatae may request the service of another Dominatae’s chattel, but only for private service, not public. The law is clear on the use by those of the Dominatae ruling class, and I may not be forced to serve someone who is not of the Dominatae. There is little comfort in that knowledge, but at least it offers some level of safety for chattel of the nobility.

The carriage pulls to a halt at the main entrance of the Luminary, and a liveryman helps me from the carriage and escorts me up the steps to the house. There is rarely a time when I am not escorted in some fashion. He knocks on the door. The clock in the city tower chimes one o’clock precisely as the door is opened and I am handed over to a human female servant dressed neatly in a simple black dress and white apron. I hear the jangle of the carriage as it pulls away, most likely to be tended to at the elegant stable at the end of the street. And then the heavy door is closed, muting the sounds of the street. The silence engulfs me, a whisper of skirts, the tinkle of light laughter, the scent of woodsy incense, as I follow the servant up the gold-carpeted staircase.

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