Table of Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Red Hot Preview: Dragon’s Baby
Exclusive Sneak Peek: Night of the Berserkers by Lee Savino
Night of the Dragons
A Reverse Harem Romance
Miranda Martin
Grab Miranda Martin’s Newsletter and be the first to know about new releases, deals and general antics
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Red Hot Preview: Dragon’s Baby
Exclusive Sneak Peek: Night of the Berserkers by Lee Savino
Blurb
Broken pod, wrecked ship, no water in sight. But Piper Sage is a survivor.
Diagnosed with an aggressive terminal cancer, the doctors on board her generational spaceship had no choice but to put her in stasis, hoping to keep her alive until a cure could be found. When she wakes, it's not to a miracle but a nightmare. Two blazing suns, nothing but sand and more sand.
There's no way she's going to just give up and die. Not a chance.
But long unused muscles and pale skin are making it impossible on this treacherous red planet.
Salvation comes in the form of four powerful dragon-men. Enormous, seven-foot walls of muscle with wings and tails and scales, these four have decided to be Piper's protectors.
The only trouble is they don't want to share.
Kaidan, Ejder, Anguis and Mikhos are all possessively alpha and will do anything to be the one who gets to claim Piper as his treasure. She's got other ideas.
After all, why choose one when you can have them all?
Night of the Dragons is a fully standalone novel. This is a TRUE reverse harem romance, NOT a love triangle. Expect steam, adventure, smoking hot alien-dragons and a feisty red-headed heroine.
Copyright © 2018 by Miranda Martin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
1
My lids feel heavy, difficult to open. Finally, they part and light floods my eyes. With the new brightness it takes a moment to focus on the glass panel above my face. I try to turn my head to look around, but I can't move it much because the cream-colored padding in my pod is designed to cup the human body—including the head and neck—and hold it in place.
That thought sparks a memory in my sluggish brain. The medical pod. That's where I am. I remember climbing into the thing . . . and that's it. That's all I can remember.
I wait, wondering if one of the doctors on board is going to show up to help me out, give me an explanation for why I'm awake. The only sound is my own ragged breath in the small, enclosed space. After about five minutes of waiting, my thoughts slow to come, I take a deep lungful of air and realize it's turning stale and hot. That's odd. The pod is supposed to automatically regulate its internal climate. It must be malfunctioning. Maybe that's why I'm awake and nobody is here to tell me what's going on.
I move my arm and it trembles just under its own weight. I frown as I try to steady it without much success. My muscles are weaker than when I got here. Too much time spent without movement.
Through a sheer effort of will, I'm able to steady my hand enough to reach the slick button on the right side of the pod, near the top. I press it down to open the cover.
I wait.
Nothing.
I press it again. Maybe I didn't do it hard enough the first time.
Still nothing.
"Oh, you piece of..." I mutter, feeling irritation rising. I try again. And again. But no matter how hard I press it or jab it down, the pod remains stubbornly closed. Fine.
I need to try something else.
I make a fist, which takes more effort than I expect, and then I bang on the thick, curved glass above me. It isn't the strongest or loudest bang, but it's the best I can do.
"Hello?" I call out, not knowing if sound can even travel outside of this thing. It's pretty tightly sealed and I can't hear anything. "Hello?"
Nothing.
I let my arm fall back down to my side as I catch my breath. I don't know how long I've been in here, but it must have been some time because I feel really weak. Alarmingly so. I look down at my body as best I can. Slender arms and legs, thinner than they should be from lying down in a drug-induced coma for who knows how long. I definitely don't feel like I'm in any better shape than when I got in here. I feel worse. So I seriously doubt a miraculous healing is why I'm up now.
After I catch my breath—which takes much longer than it should—I feel some energy returning. I realize I'm going to have to get myself out of this thing somehow. Whatever the reason, nobody's coming to help me. Maybe it's a shift change? Or whoever’s on duty isn't paying attention?
My fingers fumble for the emergency latch on the other side, built in just in case the pod malfunctions. I maybe didn't pay as much attention as I should have to the briefing they gave me before I got in here, but I remember this key part at least.
I wrap my fingers tightly around the cold, hard metal and yank it down until the pod clicks open. Letting go, I reach up to press both hands against the slick glass. Okay. This is going to take some work. Gritting my teeth, I push, biceps trembling as I use all of my strength to push. Slowly, incrementally, the top of the pod lifts open. With a grunt of effort, I shove that last bit and it swings over to the side. It takes more struggle than it should, but I'm used to that. Maybe just not quite to this degree.
Groaning, I sit up, my body creaking more than the pod had. I take another moment to catch my breath, my back aching. Even sitting up is difficult. And why is it so damn hot? Ugh. Maybe the whole medical bay is malfunctioning. Time to get up and go find some help.
I finally look around as I grip the side of the pod to swing my legs out.
And I freeze. My heart drops, all thought suspended as I stare.
Now I understand why it's so hot. Where the medical bay should connect to the ship, there's just...a gaping hole. But rather than a view of space, which is all I've seen my whole life, the torn edges of the ship showcase something I almost can't understand. All I see is red. Red sky, red sun, red sand.
As I look down, I realize I'm actually sitting on an incline. The ship, or at least this part of it, is half buried in th
e fine red sand. My brain comes back in line after I stare at the landscape for a good minute.
What the hell happened? How did the ship get torn apart like this? Where is everybody? How long have I just been lying in that pod?
Questions swirl around in my mind, I don’t know how to react or how to proceed. Is there a manual for what to do after you're shipwrecked? I could really use one right now. I'd be hard pressed to name someone less equipped than I am to survive something like this. But here I am.
I take a moment to simply listen, hoping I'm just not concentrating enough and that there are actually voices or sounds of other people nearby somewhere. Nothing. Nothing but the sound of hot breeze moving the sand a little across the Vulcan-like view.
Of course, there's no telling how long I've been lying in this pod. How long it's been since the ship actually crashed. And wouldn't it be just my luck for people to forget I was even here.
"Figures," I mutter to myself as I painfully climb out of the pod, disconnecting the wires attached to the formfitting suit meant to be worn inside while in stasis. It's supposed to send signals to my muscles to make sure I don't become a complete noodle, though I have no idea how well it actually works, judging by how lousy I feel. Maybe there’s just been nothing to power it for too long.
Now that I think of it, didn’t the doctor say something in that briefing about an emergency protocol that would wake me in case of total system failure? I guess there’s no bigger fail than a ship-wreck.
Once I'm on my feet, I hold on to the side of the pod as I catch my breath. I may as well be ninety years old rather than not even thirty. My twenties have not been good to me. Sighing, I turn towards the torn part of the ship and slowly shuffle forward, my boots hitting the sand and making my shuffle-walk even harder as I try not to skid right into a fall.
"No, we couldn't land on a planet with weaker gravity and firm ground to walk on," I say to myself as I move forward, out into what could only be called a desert.
As the relentless sun beats down, I realize that I'm actually mistaken. The sun isn't beating down on me. The suns are. I stare at the two bright circles in the sky. Not one sun. But two. Perfect. All I need to add to this situation is two suns to burn my thin, pale skin.
I've never actually felt any kind of natural light on my skin, having spent my whole life on the ship, but I've seen enough movies and television shows from our old home planet, Earth, to know that the sun and redheads don't mix. Already the heat is starting to bake my skin. After spending much of my life feeling too cold, it's kind of interesting. Not pleasant, but interesting.
Raising a hand to shield my eyes from the bright glare, I step out a little farther and turn around in a circle. It's...the same. Everywhere I look, all I can see is red sky and more sand. Ripples of never ending dunes spread in every direction. This can't be our destination planet, could it? We still had generations to go. And this doesn't look exactly hospitable.
No, something had to have gone wrong, clearly. We crash-landed on this desolate planet instead and I have no idea where the rest of the ship or the rest of the people are. If there’s anyone left alive.
I quickly shy away from that idea. It isn't helpful and I can't let myself think too hard about that right now. I need to focus on what to do. I close my eyes, trying my best to remember something, anything else. But the only memory that comes up still is getting into the stasis pod in the medical bay, knowing it was the only thing that could keep me alive. If a state of stasis could be called living.
I open my eyes again, the bleakness of my situation really settling in. Can't a girl catch a break? Haven't I had to deal with enough already? I feel an overwhelming need to simply curl up and sit down on the ground, my body weak and my spirit tired. But then a familiar anger rises inside me, the same anger that's kept me going since I was a teenager, a familiar friend that hasn't left me, ever.
I'm a survivor, dammit. I struggled to simply live on that stupid ship for half my life. I refuse to let this be how it ends. It's too unfair. I refuse to just lie down and die, weak and useless. Yeah, life is shitty sometimes. Or always if you're me. But I'll find a way to survive. Just like I always have.
I square my shoulders and raise my head.
If I'm still alive, there's still a chance.
I refuse to let go of that hope.
2
The suns are beating down on me as I take another step forward, though step might be a little too strong a word for what I'm doing. More like wading forward with the sand fighting me while I try not to fall. I admit, I'm becoming increasingly less successful at keeping myself upright. It's hard to walk in the sand, especially for someone like me, who had a hard time walking on the stable hard surface of the ship floor. My time in the stasis pod, however long it was, did not help me in the strength department at all.
As I use mind over matter to force myself forward, I fantasize about being in the Matrix instead. Neo would have had nothing on me in the mental strength department. All he ever did was spend all of his time hunched over a keyboard before he found out he was—gasp—The One. I've been fighting to survive half my life, and still am. I close my eyes as I try to levitate. There is no sand, there is no sand, there is no sand . . . I open one eye and glance around. Nope. Still stuck ankle deep in this horrid sand. Not in a simulation.
Guess I'm just going to have to deal with shitty real life after all, where my weakened muscles are trembling with the effort it takes to keep moving. Sighing, I look over my shoulder as I take another step forward. I can still see the ship in the distance, or at least the part I'd been in. It isn't actually that far in the distance either. I haven't moved very far at all.
"Oh!" Even that slight loss of focus in my steps trips me up for what feels like the fiftieth time. I let out a gust of air as I fall into the sand once more. I really hate the hot grit of it by now. I take a moment to try to catch my breath. Might as well take that moment to rest, though what I really want to do is just sit there and not move anymore. I'm thirsty, my skin is already reddened from the sun, I'm hungry, and I'm weak from stasis on top of all that.
"No, dammit," I say to myself as I painfully get back to my feet. "Not today, Satan."
Not today. I need to find water. I need to find food. And, God dammit, I need to find some place cool to sit down! None of that is going to happen if I just sit here. So I force myself to keep going even though I really, really don't want to. It's slow and painful, and I fall more and more the longer I walk, weakening from the heat, the sun exposure, and the lack of food and water. But I have to keep going.
I know the reality is that I'll never be stronger than I am now. This won't get any easier, only harder. I need to use what energy I have now, while I still have it. So I keep picking myself back up after I fall and taking one step after another.
When I fall for what feels like the hundredth time, I let out a hoarse scream of frustration that only hurts my already parched throat.
I don't catch myself in time this time and face-plant directly into the sand. It gets everywhere. My hair, my mouth, my ears, even my eyes. I sit up and shake my head, sending the evil, tiny particles flying off, tears streaming down my face, both from the sand and from the frustration and anger at the situation I've found myself in through no fault of my own.
But if anyone knows that life isn't always easy, it's me. It's just that I'm tired. I'm allowed to have a breakdown, at least a small one. I take a breath as the tears at least clear my eyes, getting rid of the abrasive material. Thin silver lining, but that's all I have in that moment. I sit back on my heels, appreciating the protection of my suit. At least it keeps the sand from getting right up into other sensitive areas. Ouch.
I look around at the unchanging landscape, wishing there was anything different to look at, to take my mind off my predicament. I sigh as I stare out at the same view I've been seeing all day. The futility of what I'm doing dawns on me once again. What am I fighting for? There probably isn't anyone left anyway.<
br />
Even if they survived the crash, which there’s no guarantee anyone else did, there doesn’t seem to be any way to sustain life here. I haven’t encountered one living creature so far that would prove otherwise. If all that's on this planet is sand and more sand . . . maybe there's no hope of accomplishing anything. Maybe I'm just making the last few hours of my life even more difficult. Maybe I should just give in, and just . . . sit right here. Wait to die.
The thought galvanizes me, striking an already raw nerve.
"Fuck that," I say firmly, pushing myself up to my feet once again. "Fuck. That."
I've always been stubborn. Why stop now? Might as well keep the streak up, right? So I keep going, settling into an odd type of trance. Probably my mind's way of protecting me, which I truly appreciate. One step melds into the other. I feel like I'm drowning in a hell made of gritty sand and red heat, with no escape, no end in sight. But I'm also disconnected from myself, a little apart from what's happening. When I fall again, it almost feels like it happens to someone else. I hold onto that detachment with both hands, clutch it to me tightly, letting the out of body feeling ease the pain. One step in front of the other. I just need to get to the next second. Nothing else exists.
I'm so mired in my own small world made up of my aching body and the pain I'm barely keeping at bay, I almost don't see the break in the red in front of me. Squinting at it, I keep moving forward, the two dark spots hazy from the heat rising from the ground. Are they rocks of some kind? As I continue walking, I realize they're getting closer faster than my slow pace can account for. They must be moving towards me. And then I make out two heads. And two pairs of arms and legs. And . . . two pairs of wings? And are those . . . tails?
Night of the Dragons Page 1