With her free hand, she flicked the toggle for Internal Comm Only on her cuff. At the very least, she had to keep her crew apprised of the situation.
“Rex? You there?” She spoke into the side of her helmet away from Arne.
“Go ahead, Cap.”
“I’ve found a member of the crew. A foreigner. He seems friendly but I’ve never seen anything like this place, so tread softly. In fact, don’t come up here ’til I give the green light. We don’t want to alarm them. You copy that?”
“Loud and clear. I’ll hang back ’til you holler, but, Cap…don’t wander too far.”
“I’ll buzz you in fifteen,” Steffi explained. “If I don’t, make sure you’re armed before you come get me.”
“Roger that.” Rex’s curt, emphatic voice lent steel to her resolve. He might not be keen on her plan, but Rex knew what an order meant, and there was no one she’d rather have backing her up if things got tight.
She glanced down to flick the audio toggle to External and…wow.
Steffi widened her eyes. Speaking of tight.
Arne’s ass was a thing of beauty. A sporting ass. It seemed unusual for a man to have no leg hair, but then she remembered where she was. And he’d said he was only part human. What could that mean? What did it matter when he looked this good?
“Where are we going?”
“To where we live.”
“We?”
“Me and my kind.”
She was about to ask him what exactly that might be when the smooth curved passageway opened up to a vast, breathtaking lake overgrown with evergreen trees and multicoloured, fruit-bearing plants. The banks had at one time been smooth and artificial—some sort of a giant reservoir or swimming pool—but vegetation had almost completely hidden them. A low vapour cloud hovered a hundred and fifty feet above the water. Lying around the water’s edge, on a blanket of spongy green grass, dozens of naked men and women seemed to be basking or sleeping. All of them were breathtaking to behold.
“I think you should take your clothes off, Steffi,” Arne said matter-of-factly.
“Why? How do I know the air isn’t poisonous to my kind?” That last part sounded dopey. Her kind?
“I do not know what you mean.”
“You said you’re not fully human.”
“But all humans breathe the same air. I think you will be very uncomfortable here if you do not undress.”
She might have taken that for a threat, but Arne had a way about him, a forthrightness that seemed almost child-like. At least, that was how she perceived him.
“First, tell me what you’re doing here. What is this place? Who built your ship? What is its purpose?”
A boyish smile dimpled his cheeks, bared his perfect teeth. “If I reveal all that you want to know, will you undress?”
“Yes.” She smiled back with no intention of honouring that promise. There was something unreal about this whole setup, this quasi-human paradise, that screamed, “Get the fuck out, right now!”
But first she had to know its secret.
Working together is unavoidable. Falling in love…inevitable.
Hearts and Minds
© 2010 J.C. Hay
An Impulse Power Story
Syna Davout thought it was supposed to be a simple smash-and-grab job—smash onto a luxury yacht, grab the cash, and split the proceeds with the client. Unfortunately, the client failed to mention that she’s the diversion for an assassination attempt that destroys the yacht and leaves her with a passenger she never expected. A fugitive telepath caught in the middle of a revolution.
Galen Fash thought his days were numbered. The fledgling revolution on his homeworld needs him to buy them time, with his life if necessary. The last thing he needs is to get involved with a pirate captain-for-hire whose larger-than-life emotions draw him like a moth to a flame.
Inexorably, Syna is dragged into a war that isn’t hers, and they both discover—between knock-down-drag-outs—that their whole is far stronger than the sum of their parts. Dodging the enemies that want them both dead will be hard enough. First, they have to survive each other…
Warning: this book contains Space Vikings, gossipy AIs, boxing-as-foreplay, rogue telepaths and a demanding pirate captain who likes to be in charge. The author will not be held responsible for a desire to punch your partner in the jaw, or a sudden awareness of latent psionic ability.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Hearts and Minds:
She stopped at a ship’s closet long enough to grab a tool belt and two pairs of leather gloves. “No padding in these, but at least you won’t get burned if something’s too hot. Come on, I’ll need your help down in engineering.”
Galen slipped the gloves on as the ship settled onto one of the rocks in the planetary ring. The whine of anchor drills resonated down the corridors and set his teeth on edge. The drills would make it hard to lift off quickly, but it also kept them securely fastened to the rock. An important modification in a zero-g environment and, he knew, completely off the book on a ship this size. Like the mass drivers, for that matter. He wondered how many other modifications he’d see when they reached the engineering department.
Department turned out to be a dramatic overstatement. The entirety of engineering consisted of two long, narrow access corridors down either side of the main power plant. It was barely big enough for one person, let alone the two of them side by side. Heat from the power plant leaked through the walls and left him mopping at his forehead in a futile effort to keep pace with the sweat that soaked him.
Beside him, Syna fared little better. Her ginger hair matted against her skin, and perspiration beaded on the side of her neck. Galen had a sudden urge to kiss her, to taste the salt on her skin, hear the tiny gasp of surprise that she thought he hadn’t heard when she’d kissed him in the gym. Had there been more room in the cramped corridor, he’d be tempted to try.
Gods, what was this woman doing to him?
“Are you going to help or just stare down my shirt?”
Galen blinked, smiled. “Is there a way I can do both?”
She shoved a curl of hair out of her face, pink leaching into her cheeks. “Just hold this.” She indicated the wires in her hands with a jut of her chin. He had to shift closer to reach and found himself too conscious of the way she pressed back against him as she worked. He willed his body not to respond and hoped it wasn’t too distracted to ignore him. She mumbled something as she flattened her back against him.
“Sorry, what?”
“Close your eyes,” she whispered. His pulse lurched erratically until blue-white plasma illuminated the space, and he realized she’d issued it not as a come-on, but a warning. His eyes snapped shut and focused on the red-yellow afterimage of the welding lance drifting quietly behind his eyelids. “Two more, then I think we’ve bypassed it.”
“That’ll bring the shields up to full?”
“It’ll bring them back to where they were before we started this venture, which is something. Stay out of the aft-most cargo hold—I had to reroute power from its environmental controls.”
“Is that safe?”
The welder sparked again, the light savage even through his closed eyes. The smell of ozone and charged particles drifted through the air. Combined with her shampoo, it made her smell like a spice field after an electrical storm.
“Yeah, just don’t go in there. Not much choice in the matter, the starboard field’s influx coupler got slagged. I don’t just carry those around with me.” The welder flared again. “That should finish that.”
Galen opened his eyes cautiously. “You can’t ask Bree?”
Syna shook her head. “No. There’s no pickups in here, and no speaker for her to respond through. I have to do it from the hall.”
He grinned. “Ooooh, unchaperoned. I like it.”
She laughed, her blush renewed. Warmth flooded out from her, her emotions a sea he wanted to swim in. She has no idea how sexy she is, he realized. On impulse, he leaned
forward and kissed her.
She froze for a heartbeat and a flicker of panic went through him, then her hand tangled in his hair and tugged him closer. Her body crushed against him and any control he’d aspired to evaporated. The heat of her body soaked through his skin, suffused him as he lost himself in her.
She broke the kiss long enough to take a breath, then tugged his hair back to bite along his jawline. The combination of teeth and tongue overloaded Galen’s senses. His knees lost any sense of strength they had, and he reached out for support with one hand.
There was a soft pop and a whiff of electrical smoke. She pulled up from the kiss and touched her nose-tip to his, a quiet smile playing across her mouth. “Please tell me you didn’t just rip out my lovely bypass.”
He looked to his hand, tangled in the wiring, as if it were an alien on the end of his arm. “I…am going to go ahead and say yes.”
She slid her hand between them. His nerve endings went crazy as he felt the back of her hand slide past his hips, and she grinned at him, heavy-lidded eyes sparkling with mischief. Her hand retraced its route with agonizing slowness and when it came up, presented him with the hand welder. “Then you get to fix it.”
He let out a ragged breath. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Later. If you’re very good.” She backed farther down the corridor to give him access to the panel he’d wrecked.
“You’re not going to stand over my shoulder, make sure I do it right?”
Syna laughed. “Oh no. I’m not getting close to you again until I’m certain you’re out of reach of everything fragile.”
A woman bound to secrecy. A man bound to protect her.
Killing Silk
© 2009 Nathalie Gray
Azalea’s canvas is the human body. Her brushes—the colorful silk scarves and ancient ways passed down from a long line of Shibari masters. She has bound the rich and powerful, the beautiful and talented. But she has yet to find the one person worthy to trust with her age-old secrets.
Now a serial killer is imitating her unique style, leaving a trail of death across Tokyo. She knows she is in danger, but to reveal her alibi to the grave-eyed investigator would mean doing the unthinkable—breaking her clients’ confidence.
In all his years on the force, Keveri Newman has never seen murder victims posed as lovers, limbs bound in exceedingly rare silk. Down to the last knot, the evidence points to only one suspect: Azalea. A woman who redefines elegance and mystery, who asks the impossible—for him to trust her.
Azalea is drawn to the plain-spoken, cynical detective with hands as wickedly skillful as her own. A third murder inextricably ties them to a single purpose, because that night, she wasn’t alone. She was with Kev. And the killer knows the only way to get to her is to separate her from the one man who can protect her…
Warning: Here be futuristic car chases across Tokyo downtown, in the rain, with no lights and no caffeine in the bloodstream. That’s love, baby.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Killing Silk:
Her eyelashes looked like fans on her cheeks as she sat with her eyes closed, a sphinx-like smile on her berry lips and a slight tilt to her proud head. Hair the color of coal cascaded over her shoulders. She seemed to be waiting. Sleeping Beauty. Or serial killer.
In his guts, which he’d trust until convinced otherwise, he knew she hadn’t killed those people. She wasn’t killer material. Unless that was his dick talking. He’d never met a more conflicting, unusual and arousing woman. Every time he sent a question and expected answer A or B, she threw back a Z. Slick and hard to pin down. And pinned down was exactly how he’d been visualizing her for the last few minutes. She’d feel glorious and lithe pinned by his hips as he pounded into her. Flashes of carnal abandon flitted through his restless mind. On her knees, sucking him. Up against the wall, hard marble crushing her against him. And there she sat still, waiting.
The skin of his palms tingled when he leaned over. Those few inches were the longest journey he’d had to take in his entire life. He changed his mind about twelve times. Kiss her. Don’t touch her. He couldn’t resist her. But he should. What is he doing here? For fuck’s sake, just take the invitation. In the end, he did.
He’d expected fireworks as soon as his lips touched hers. Instead, he got…
Nothingness. Serenity. A bubble against the world. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. Just them. Just the two of them. Even the adrenaline patch stopped itching his arm. Pure stillness. A garden in winter, scintillating snow like diamonds gently resting on delicate leaves, paths of tiny rocks glistening in the early morning sun, icy water gurgling inside a fountain of stone polished with the ages, and a sky blue enough to blind a man. Kev’s heartbeat slowed, his limbs grew heavy. The chronic restlessness that stole his sleep and sometimes made a powder keg of his temper dissipated. Should he die that day, he would do so a happy man. She’d given him peace.
Kev cupped her pointy chin in one hand while he leaned on the table for support. Gently, he let his mouth travel over her lips, moth-light, discovering and demystifying her. Although he knew no mere man would ever get to the bottom of the enigma that was Miss Azalea. She was as enigmatic and fluctuating as a prism. One angle only revealed one color. She was myriads.
Hands made for pleasure touched him lightly on the forearm. A simple touch, really. Yet one that shot his nervous system—already laced with the double adrenaline doses—into the fever zone. Like butterflies, the tips of her fingers danced a course along his arm, over his shoulder, up his neck and cheek. He shivered with the massive waves of pleasure she triggered. He pulled away so he could tug his turtleneck up and over his head, before literally jettisoning it across the table. It skimmed the smooth surface then slipped below view.
He heard her sigh as she ran both hands up and down his chest. “I knew it would be like this,” she murmured. Kissed a trail down his throat. “Exactly like this.”
Without using his fingers—he meant for this to last—Kev nudged with his chin the lapels of her long cowl wider apart so he could denude a breast. She had the most gorgeous, dainty little breasts he’d ever seen with dark points that rose like a challenge. He never turned down a challenge.
“Mmm,” he hummed deep in his throat. He liked to show a lady his appreciation.
The color of a plum, her nipple tightened even more when he blew on it. Softly, like a ribbon of air. Her sharp inhalation was all he needed. He did it again. Just blew on her nipple until he saw goosebumps rise all over her breast. When he knew she was ready, he licked her in one long pass from underside to collarbone. Then again. She arched for him. He reciprocated by suckling on her hard little point. Lotion that smelled of citrus fruit and something flowery invaded his brain and his ability to think rationally. Bending her over and taking her was quickly becoming an imperative he couldn’t deny.
Quick and precise, her hands worked the closure of his jeans. He was so hard it hurt. “Wait, not yet,” he snarled against her breast. A friendly little bite made Azalea tuck her bottom lip between perfect teeth.
He pushed the little tray, taking care not to rattle the delicate cups and teapot, to make some room for her. A pat to the tabletop seemed to be sufficient. Azalea rose to her knees to sit on the low table. She must have wanted the same thing he did. Her midnight gaze on him, she flicked a leg up over his head and spread herself wide. Ultramarine silk fell in a wide band that hid her pussy from him. And he liked it this way. Something this good had to take time. It had to last.
Azalea rolled her hips in lazy infinity figures as she planted her palms behind her. Skin the color of wet sand and shiny like coffee beans formed a canvas on which had been painted the most beautiful woman this side of the sun. Thighs that looked fit and firm twitched as she arched her foot. Smooth like silk.
She reached back, retrieved a teacup and tested the liquid inside with her lips. Smiling, she dripped tea over her chest, where it seeped into the silk band, turning it almost sheer. The garment loo
ked at if it’d been painted on and exposed her form all the way down her belly and pussy, where it molded to her lips.
Kev was speechless as he watched her pour more warm tea down her belly. It glistened in thin rivulets on her skin. He could keep himself in check no longer.
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