by J. C. Hay
A realization blossomed in the back of his mind and he looked up, forcing himself to focus on her face amid the blur of the rest of the room. “I get to be on top.”
She laughed and he closed his eyes, feeling her tears splash against his face. “Yes. You won. I don’t care. You have to live long enough to collect or it’s no fair. Come on, hold yourself together. Just a little bit longer.”
He felt her tugging at him, felt himself lifted up. He wanted to argue with her, tell her to get out in case the Constant Perseverance had called for reinforcements, but it seemed like so much work. She shouldn’t burden herself with him. He tried to muster the strength to roll out of her grip, but she clamped down on him like a vise. He needed to tell her something. Anything. He mustered another breath despite the complaints from his chest and whispered, “I love you.”
Message delivered. He let unconsciousness envelop him like the tide.
~ * ~
Galen’s eyes flickered and relief flooded through her, a warm rush of comfort that pushed all Syna’s other concerns from her mind. She pulled the sheet back and checked his wound. The damage from the axe had been extensive—even the abilities of the autosurgeon had been stretched to keep from losing the arm. The healing accelerants seemed to have stabilized the injury for now—new pink flesh grew along the edges of the cut, the tight stitches precise and even. Healthy, but he was going to need a long time to recover and an attentive nurse. She looked forward to providing him with both.
“Am I dead?” His voice was a ragged croak that descended into a shallow cough.
Syna pushed the damp curls back and kissed his forehead. “Not anymore.”
“How?”
She patted the autodrug she’d jabbed into his hip. “I’d tell you love kept you going, but it was really just adrenaline. Kept your heart pumping until I could get you hooked into the autosurgeon. I keep one of these with me in case of acceleration trauma.”
“Lucky me.” He smiled, coughed again. She placed her fingers over his lips to quiet him.
“No, lucky me.” She had him, had dragged him back from the edge of death, and there was no force in the hells that would keep him from her. “Now don’t strain your throat.”
“Can I have some water?” His voice in her head was like a warm blanket around her shoulders.
“I should tell you not to do that, either.” She tapped his forehead with her fingertip. “The autosurgeon’s not good with brains, so I don’t know what damage you’ve got in there.” She pulled a bag of water from the med-bay’s chiller unit and fed the straw between his lips.
He drank greedily, then looked at her. “How long have I been out?”
“Five days. Plenty of time for us to move to a new location. I didn’t want to wait around Proxima Thule for the Tse to come calling.”
“Good choice.” He smiled and pushed the straw out of his mouth. “What now?”
She grinned. “What now is you need to rest. You shouldn’t even be awake, but Bree told me you were coming out of it and I wanted to be here when you did. When you’re better we can discuss the what nows beyond that.” She checked the readouts on the autosurgeon and adjusted the sedative feed so he could sleep.
“Not getting rid of me that easy.” His hand folded over hers, squeezing lightly.
“You fool. I’m not getting rid of you at all. I just want you to get your strength up. You’ve got a debt to repay.”
“I won the bet.”
“Hardly. You lost consciousness. Hells, according to the autosurgeon you were technically dead for twenty-two seconds. That makes me the winner by default.”
He laughed, coughed, laughed again. “Unfair.” It took her a moment to realize he’d said it out loud.
Bree called out from the bedside monitor, “Actually, I can confirm your death if you want. I’m supposed to keep a copy ‘as proof’. Oh, and I’d have an easier time following the conversation if one of you wasn’t mind-talking.”
Syna smiled. “Maybe we just don’t want you eavesdropping this time.” The AI made a mock-hurt noise as Syna placed a clean bandage over Galen’s stitches. “And as for you, unfair or not, a rule’s a rule. You forfeit. Not to mention that you scared me half to death. What the hells were you thinking?”
“Thinking’s overrated sometimes.”
“Says the psion. Very cute. Once you’re healthy, I’m going to make you wish you had died.”
“Kill me with your body, I’ll die happy.” The thought carried images of ways she could do exactly that.
A warm flush blossomed on her cheeks. “You’ll need to rest up more for that, Mr. Ambitious.” Syna grinned and kissed his forehead again. “And work on your flexibility. Then we can think about it.”
“So I get to stay?”
Syna laughed and squeezed his hands in hers. Had he been stronger, she’d have hugged him. “Yes, you big idiot. You get to stay. As long as you want. You’ll be tired of me long before then.”
He grinned and opened one eye, squeezing back with what strength he had in his fingers. He cleared his throat and croaked, “I’ll take that bet.”
“Loser’s on the bottom.” Syna pressed his fingers to her lips and smiled.
About the Author
J.C. Hay writes, knits, and sometimes writes about knitting from a secluded location in the middle of the United States. When not cloistered behind the keyboard or tangled up in yarn, J.C. is subservient to a pair of papillon dogs—the dark masters—and an incredibly patient, supportive spouse. J.C.’s fiction can be found in Twelfth Planet’s New Ceres Nights, Fantasist Enterprise’s anthology Sails and Sorcery and Eden Studios’ zombie anthology Book of All Flesh. Part-time film snob and full-time foodie, J.C. spends too much time pushing friends into new experiences and not enough time updating the website www.jchay.com.
The last will and testament of a forgotten Earth…
The Mythmakers
© 2010 Robert Appleton
An Impulse Power Story
For Captain Steffi Savannah and her crew of deep space smugglers, life has become little more than a dogged exercise in mere survival. Their latest disastrous heist ended with another dead crew member—and no place left to hide. She’s even finding it hard to dredge up any excitement over the giant, crippled ship that appears on their radar, even though it’s the salvage opportunity of a lifetime.
They find that it’s no ordinary alien vessel. It’s a ship of dreams, populated with the last remnants of Earth’s mythical creatures. Including the blond, built, mysterious Arne, one of a race blessed with extraordinary beauty—and few inhibitions. Though he won’t tell her exactly what he is, in his arms Steffi rediscovers something she thought she’d never feel again. Wonder, love…and hope.
It isn’t long, though, before the Royal guard tracks them down, and Steffi and her crew are faced with a terrible decision. Cut and run. Or risk everything to tow the ship and her precious cargo to safety.
Warning: This book contains moderate sexual activity, strong language, and high-cholesterol breakfasts. Also features hot nudists, naive men and other equally rare fantasy creatures.
The invaders thought they had crushed humanity. They messed with the wrong species.
Metal Reign
© 2010 Nathalie Gray
An Impulse Power Story
Francine Beaumont is tired. Tired of waiting for an armada of Imber ships to finish off what’s left of humanity. Tired of fear and privation. Tired of living like a rat, feeding off what scraps the cat lets her have.
When the chance comes to hit the Imbers where it really hurts—right at their fuel supply—she takes it. One stealth cruiser. One pilot. A cargo hold filled with explosives. A suicide mission for sure, but better that than doing nothing.
As the ship’s cook, John O’Shaughnessy knows everything that goes on aboard the warship. And something is definitely up with his Frankie. If she thinks he’s going to let her carry out this crazy plan of hers alone, that stubborn woman has another thi
nk coming.
Frankie thinks she’s gotten away clean…until her instincts tell her she’s not alone on her mission. Still, it’s a shock to find her peace-loving John standing there with eyes that spell murder. Now is a hell of a time to discover they’re more than friends. But there’s no turning back…
Warning: Space invaders were seriously harmed in the making of this story.
From zero to naked at warp speed…
Taking Liberty
© 2009 Jodi Redford
Rini Campell’s one shot at keeping her field agent position with the United Galaxies’ repo department means bringing in the spaceship Liberty. Piece of cake. Except she didn’t count on the pilot still being on board. Or being buck naked.
Lucus Granger doesn’t have time to deal with a pain-in-the-ass repo agent. Not when he’s minutes away from dropping off a cargo haul for the psychotic alien dictator of Aquatica. Though he figures it’s just about the stupidest bargain he’s ever made, he allows Rini to tag along for the flight.
Big mistake.
Stranded in enemy territory, they find themselves fighting a battle on two fronts. Against a creepy dictator who’d as soon drown them as look at them. And against a blazing attraction hotter than the godforsaken planet itself. For these two wary hearts, love could bloom in the desert…if it doesn’t kill them first.
Warning: A feisty heroine and yummy hero getting sweaty in the desert. Squid aliens who bring new meaning to the word slimy. Oh, and some close encounters of the sexy kind.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Taking Liberty:
They spent what felt like hours combing the nearby terrain for remains from the Starflight Folly. Other than a few stray pieces of twisted metal, nothing useful cropped up. Certainly nothing that would get them off the godforsaken planet.
Rini used the toe of her boot to clear sand away from a strip of metal protruding from the ground. Satisfied she’d uncovered most of it, she stooped and pried the object from the desert’s tenacious grasp. She buffed the metal with the hem of Lucus’s shirt to get a better look at the symbol etched on the corroded surface. “This looks like one of the symbols from the rock.”
Lucus stopped poking through a stack of charred cactus husks and strode to her. She handed him the metal piece for inspection. “Yep. This is probably from the Starflight’s masthead. Used to be captains would fly their ships with their crew’s names and rankings displayed. Not sure why the practice isn’t kept up.”
She stared at the shadow of day-old beard gracing Lucus’s jawbone and became seriously irked when her nipples tightened at the idea of being teased by the dark bristles. “How is it you’re fluent in ancient Illonican?” she demanded in hopes of distracting her aggravating hormones.
He gave the metal strip a final look before tossing it on top the burnt cacti. “When I first started trading, I did business with this grizzled farmer on Orrik who used to be a professor of languages.” A grin overtook his rugged features. “Guess Cal needed a change of pace from harvesting melons all day because he’d toss lecture books at me every chance he got.”
“Hmm, wish I’d known Cal when I was busting my hump trying to keep my grade point average steady at the ranger academy.”
A teasing hint of challenge danced in Lucus’s eyes. “The girl who graduated top honors had trouble keeping up her grades?”
“Just in languages and anthropology.” She batted away a persistent army of gnats trying to roost in her hair. The damn things were a nuisance, particularly when she already felt sticky and grimy.
Lucus’s palm suddenly squashed against her forehead. She gave him a double blink and one corner of his mouth quirked. “One of the gnats snuck by you.”
“Um…thanks.”
“Anytime.”
The heat of his skin continued seeping into her and she began to wonder if he’d forgotten where he’d plastered his hand. But then an intense look crept into his expression and she had no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing. His face inching closer, he snuck his hand along her cheek. She licked her lips. “Before this goes any further, I think we should both remember we don’t like each other.”
“I like you fine.”
His lips brushed just to the side of hers and she released a shaky breath. “You said the same thing about your brother.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have this overwhelming urge to lick my brother’s nipples.”
“I should hope not, because that would be majorly twist—” Lucus’s mouth swallowed the remainder of her sentence. His tongue coaxed its way inside and she had trouble remembering why kissing him back was an incredibly lousy idea. Her hands crept under his shirt and roved over the damp skin above his rib cage. Talk about unfair. Here she felt like a gross, sweat-soaked dishrag, yet Lucus’s body was a slick and delicious yummy treat.
His lips trailed to the underside of her jaw and she gasped, blinking against the overhead glare of the sun. “What are we doing?”
Lucus’s chuckle vibrated against her neck. “If you have to ask, I’m severely out of practice.” His teeth scraped the sensitive hollow beneath her earlobe.
“This…” She swallowed and tried again. “This is a residual effect of our close call with death.”
“Mm, you think?” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her shiver.
“Yes. I mean between the near drowning in the cell and crashing, it’s a miracle we haven’t ripped each other’s clothes off.” Oh man, why the hell did I say that?
“Excellent point. Maybe we should do something about it.” His fingers swept to the buttons on her shirt and flicked the first one from its hole.
She should stop him. She should really, really stop him.
Eventually.
He made quick work releasing three more buttons. Her shirt gaped open and his hand slid inside, molding perfectly over one breast. His thumb rasped the cotton and lace covering her nipple. Gasping, she arched into him. Warm, firm lips resettled over hers with a groan. The sound rumbled through her, striking a match to her already inflamed senses.
His tongue glided over hers. She tasted desire and hot, aroused male. Dizzy from the sensory overload, she curved a hand around the nape of Lucus’s neck, the ends of his dark brown hair tickling her knuckles.
She pulled back slightly, the oxygen leaving her lungs in staccato bursts. “You and I. Bad idea.”
“The worst.” He pushed her tank top upward until it was anchored beneath her armpits. Dipping beneath her bra cup, he caressed one traitorously eager nipple.
“You need to stop doing that.” Even as she forced the wispy words from her mouth, she leaned into him, effectively offering more of her breast to fondle.
“Yeah, I should.” Lowering his head, he eased the lace away and circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue. The touch might have been feather-soft but it sparked a lightning-bolt reaction throughout every nerve receptor in her body. His teeth enclosed her nipple before he suctioned the bud inside the warm, wet cavern of his mouth.
“Oh God.” Her knees started to give and he caught her tight against him. So tight, there was no mistaking the solid nudge of his erection against her belly. I want that. Much as she debated telling her inner slut to shut up, she couldn’t deny the truth in those three embarrassing words.
Trust will either destroy them…or save them both.
The Promise of Kierna’Rhoan
© 2008 Isabo Kelly
Kira Farseaker led a sheltered, privileged life—until her discovery of a cruel secret plunged her into an underworld of danger. Now she vows to use her money and position to save an alien species, the Shifters, from government-sanctioned extermination.
A secret planet, a Farseaker legacy known as Kierna’Rhoan, could offer at least some of the evolving Shifters the sanctuary they need to survive. To get them there safely will be the most dangerous mission Kira has ever attempted—a task that isn’t made any easier by her attraction to the dark, hungry eyes of a suspected spy.
Officer David Cario’s assignment to a Shifter extermination squadron is just the break he needs to learn why his sister was executed. Earning the trust of his commander’s ex-wife, suspected terrorist Kira Farseaker, is easier said than done, especially when crossing into her world brings him face to face with truths he isn’t prepared to discover.
Swept up in a growing whirlpool of corruption and treachery, Kira and David find themselves locked in a struggle between duty and a growing passion that could destroy everything they’ve worked for. Or save both their lives.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Promise of Kierna’Rhoan:
Kira stood staring at the door that led to David, trying to settle herself for another confrontation. The fights and accusations were wearing on her. The exhaustion that had swept her in the lift sat heavily on her shoulders. And dread mixed with a tingling of anticipation at seeing the Guard. Just the thought of his kiss made her lips burn. Knowing she’d remember the feel of his touch all too vividly in his presence, Kira wasn’t sure she’d be able to manage this meeting. But it had to be done.
Pushing her hair behind her ears, she left Command. Raf stopped her in the corridor just outside the air-sealed entrance to the fan rooms.
“Kira,” he began, then fell silent and stared at the floor for a few minutes, his brow deeply creased with unspoken thoughts. After a time, his brow softened and he grinned. “You’re something else, Farseaker. And for what it’s worth, I think liars are the best kinds of people.”
A laugh burst from Kira so suddenly it surprised her and made her laugh harder. “Glad to know it,” she said when she could talk again. “Thanks.” She tapped his arm gently. “Now, get off your ass and make sure you’re ready to pilot us off this rock.”
He smiled, winked and squeezed her shoulder before walking away. Kira shook her head, baffled by the scene but thankful for the release of tension. When she stepped through the air seal into the smoking rooms, she was grinning.