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“Sudden oscill--” the world swayed hard to Jessica’s left. Hands balled into fists, Jessica clenched her jaw at the sudden, violent nausea. Her memory flashed back to an ill-fated deep sea fishing trip with her father the summer before he’d disappeared. They were off the coast of the Outer Banks, almost due east of Cape Hatteras, in heavy swells. The sweaty men nursed their beers and tended their fishing poles. Jessica and her mother sat along the gunwales of the boat, heads draped over the railing to not soil their clothes and shoes any more than necessary. Helplessly sick, and with nothing working to control her nausea, her father had carefully nudged the others into returning to port. The hour and a half ride back to the pier had been murderous, and though she’d lurched uncontrollably when walking on dry land again, the intense nausea faded quickly enough to enjoy a fish fry. It was the last happy time with her parents she could remember.
* * * * *
Find out more about Kevin Ikenberry and “The Revelations Cycle” at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/kevin-ikenberry/
The following is an
Excerpt from Book 11 of The Revelations Cycle:
Assassin
___________________
Kacey Ezell and Marisa Wolf
Now Available from Seventh Seal Press
eBook, Paperback and (Soon) Audio
Excerpt from “Assassin:”
Deluge closed his eyes and let the taste of spiced Khava explode over the inside of his mouth. It burned its way over his tongue and down into his belly, filling him with heat from the inside.
“You like it?” the Besquith trader growled. Deluge opened his eyes and looked up at the hairy alien. Besquith were not known for their charm, and this one seemed a representative member of his race in that department. It had somewhat beady eyes that glared at Deluge as he sat on the trading counter. Doubtless, the trader would have preferred for Deluge to remain on the floor in his bipedal stance. However, that didn’t make sense in the Hunter’s mind, given the immense difference between their two heights. Far better that he should spring to the counter and sit like a civilized being.
It wasn’t his problem if his movements were too quick for the Besquith to track. Nor was it his problem if that fact made the other being nervous. Though Deluge had to admit it was amusing.
“I do like it,” the Hunter said. “Your batch has a very good flavor.”
“I have more,” the Besquith said. “Five credits gets you the whole fish.”
Deluge slow blinked at the outrageous price, and let his mouth fall open in his Human smile.
“And what would I do with a whole fish?” he asked. “Especially at that larcenous rate?”
“Larcenous?” the Besquith growled, its voice dropping lower. “Are you calling me a cheat?”
“Larceny means theft. Technically I’m calling you a thief,” Deluge said. “But I suppose your language may not have such subtleties.”
He didn’t, truly, mean it as an insult. The Besquith didn’t seem to care. It let out a low snarl and bared its teeth, then lunged at Deluge, snapping his teeth a hair’s breadth from where the Hunter sat.
Or more accurately, where the Hunter had been sitting.
Because, of course, Deluge was in motion as soon as the Besquith started his lunge. He drove his powerful hind legs against the firm surface of the trading counter and leapt up into the air. A quick twist of his body allowed his front claws access to the large, pointed ears that sat atop the Besquith’s head. He dug his claws into those sensitive ears and used them as a pivot point to anchor his leap. His lower body flipped up and around to the point where his back claws could grab on. One caught the alien’s throat, just above the jugular, and the other hovered scant millimeters from the being’s vulnerable eye.
“Hunter, your pardon.”
The voice that spoke was Besquith, and female, unless Deluge missed his guess. It was also smooth and laced with respect, unlike the nervous, aggressive tone of the one he now had by the ears. That Besquith was busy whimpering in pain and fear as Deluge wrenched its head around so that he might look at the newcomer.
The newcomer stood in the curtained doorway at the back of the booth. She wore the rich silks of a wealthy Besquith trader, and the grey about her muzzle spoke of some experience. She inclined her head as Deluge met her eyes.
“I greet you,” Deluge said. He didn’t want to be rude, but he rather thought that in this particular situation, he might be excused the use of an abbreviated hello. “Welcome to our negotiation.”
“I am Jhurrahkk” she said. “I am the alpha for our people here on Khatash. You hold the life of my pup in your claws.”
“I am Deluge,” he answered. “Your pup was rude and attacked me. His life is forfeit on my planet.”
“This is where I propose we begin our negotiation.”
* * * * *
Get “Assassin” now at:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079YTRLFN/
Find out more about Kacey Ezell, Marisa Wolf, and “The Revelations Cycle” at:
https://chriskennedypublishing.com
The following is an
Excerpt from Book 1 of the Kin Wars Saga:
Wraithkin
___________________
Jason Cordova
Available Now from Theogony Books
eBook, Paperback, and Audio Book
Excerpt from “Wraithkin:”
Prologue
The lifeless body of his fellow agent on the bed confirmed the undercover operation was thoroughly busted.
“Crap,” Agent Andrew Espinoza, Dominion Intelligence Bureau, said as he stepped fully into the dimly lit room and carefully made his way to the filthy bed in which his fellow agent lay. He turned away from the ruined body of his friend and scanned the room for any sign of danger. Seeing none, he quickly walked back out of the room to where the slaves he had rescued earlier were waiting.
“Okay, let’s keep quiet now,” he reminded them. “I’ll go first, and you follow me. I don’t think there are any more slavers in the warehouse. Understand?”
They all nodded. He offered them a smile of confidence, though he had lied. He knew there was one more slaver in the warehouse, hiding near the side exit they were about to use. He had a plan to deal with that person, however. First he had to get the slaves to safety.
He led the way, his pistol up and ready as he guided the women through the dank and musty halls of the old, rundown building. It had been abandoned years before, and the slaver ring had managed to get it for a song. In fact, they had even qualified for a tax-exempt purchase due to the condition of the neighborhood around it. The local constable had wanted the property sold, and the slaver ring had stepped in and offered him a cut if he gave it to them. The constable had readily agreed, and the slavers had turned the warehouse into the processing plant for the sex slaves they sold throughout the Dominion. Andrew knew all this because he had been the one to help set up the purchase in the first place.
Now, though, he wished he had chosen another locale.
He stopped the following slaves as he came to the opening which led into one of the warehouse’s spacious storage areas. Beyond that lay their final destination, and he was dreading the confrontation with the last slaver. He checked his gun and grunted in surprise as he saw he had two fewer rounds left than he had thought. He shook his head and charged the pistol.
“Stay here and wait for my signal,” he told the rescued slaves. They nodded in unison.
He took a deep, calming breath. No matter what happened, he had to get the slaves to safety. He owed them that much. His sworn duty was to protect the Dominion from people like the slavers, and someone along the way had failed these poor women. He exhaled slowly, crossed himself and prayed to God, the Emperor and any other person wh
o might have been paying attention.
He charged into the room, his footsteps loud on the concrete flooring. He had his gun up as he ducked behind a small, empty crate. He peeked over the top and snarled; he had been hoping against hope the slaver was facing the other direction.
Apparently Murphy is still a stronger presence in my life than God, he thought as he locked eyes with the last slaver. The woman’s eyes widened in recognition and shock, and he knew he would only have one chance before she killed them all.
He dove to the right of the crate and rolled, letting his momentum drag him out of the slaver’s immediate line of fire. He struggled to his feet as her gun swung up and began to track him, but he was already moving, sprinting back to the left while closing in on her. She fired twice, both shots ricocheting off the floor and embedding themselves in the wall behind him.
Andrew skid to a stop and took careful aim. It was a race, the slaver bringing her gun around as his own came to bear upon her. The muzzles of both guns flashed simultaneously, and Andrew grunted as pain flared in his shoulder.
A second shot punched him in the gut and he fell, shocked the woman had managed to get him. He lifted his head and saw that while he had hit her, her wound wasn’t nearly as bad as his. He had merely clipped her collarbone and, while it would smart, it was in no way fatal. She took aim on him and smiled coldly.
Andrew swiftly brought his gun up with his working arm and fired one final time. The round struck true, burrowing itself right between the slaver’s eyes. She fell backwards and lay still, dead. He groaned and dropped the gun, pain blossoming in his stomach. He rolled onto his back and stared at the old warehouse’s ceiling.
That sucked, he groused. He closed his eyes and let out a long, painful breath.
* * * * *
Get “Wraithkin” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N0RGYZS.
Find out more about Jason Cordova and “Wraithkin” at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/jason-cordova/
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