by Lee Savino
I don’t see stars… I see galaxies.
But slowly we return to the ship, to each other. Our breath slows. The ecstasy ebbs. I pant for air, nestling my head against his shoulder. I feel quivery all over.
“Dawn. My Dawn. My Tribute.” His lips move over my temples and I can feel the complete love, the awe, the happiness that infuses each word.
Now I understand that it doesn’t matter whether he’s calling me by my name or by my title. Both mean the same thing to him—his love.
“My Gavrill,” I whisper back, tilting my lips up to kiss the underside of his square chin. “My Master.”
My love.
Against all the odds, we've found our happily-ever-after... and I no longer feel so bad about the Tribute program. Every woman should have the chance to find the same happiness.
THE END
Epilogue
Pareena
Beep. Beep. Beep. I never thought the hum of hospital machines would become the soundtrack to my life. But the sound, along with the rattle of breath in my chest, tells me l’m alive. The sound is sweet because I won’t hear it for much longer.
Hospitals are never quiet. A never-ending stream of doctors, nurses, and food service workers, coming in, checking charts, dropping off food trays and picking them up. The doctors frown. The nurses murmur “how ya doing, honey” and force smiles as they plump my pillows and check my vitals. The food service people don’t comment as they pick up the food trays with most of my meal uneaten. I can only manage a few bites a day, another sign that I can measure the rest of my life in minutes and hours versus weeks and years.
I used to be so busy. Used to be one of the white-coat workers hustling past patient’s doors. I used to hate being late, hate waiting, hate making small talk. I had so much time, I had the luxury of complaining that I had none.
Now I savor each second as it flows by with the drip, drip, drip of my IV. I have nothing to do but doze or watch silly sitcoms on the tiny TV suspended in the corner of my room. Both early and late to my death, I am happy to wait. I have nothing left to do but die.
My fingers crawl to the edge of the bed and find the smooth surface of my new best friend—a glossy black e-reader. I don’t know who left it on my hospital bed but it’s full of stories I’d never let myself read before. The ones I’d avoided at the library—the ones with strong-jawed, shirtless guys on the cover, with bulging muscles and another bulge straining the front of their tight pants. I was always tempted to read them, but too embarrassed. I was such an elitist coward. I missed so much.
The Tribute rises from the Jabolian pod. Her body is lithe and strong, and her skin glows with health as her hair falls in shining waves past her waist.
Now that’s a fantasy. I haven’t had hair in a long time. The chemo took everything, including my eyebrows.
Her Tsenturion master stands on the receiving deck to greet her. His suit molds his strong frame, a glittering grey color that reflects his impatience. As his female tribute approaches, the suit glimmers with a silvery sheen. By the time she has walked the long path to stand before him, the silver has turned to gold.
She is a worthy Tribute.
I finish the story and sigh. Becoming a Tsenturion bride sounds great right about now. Fix all my imperfections and heal my disease. Replace the cancer cells with healthy ones. Throw in a pair of eyebrows, and it’d be worth getting abducted.
I click back to the beginning of the story, ready to read it again, but as I swipe to the first chapter, the e-reader blinks a few times. A new screen appears.
Initiate questioning phase.
New words form onscreen: Are you Doctor Pareena Singh?
I jolt awake and glance around the empty hospital room. How did the device learn my name?
The e-reader gives a little chirp as if reminding me to answer the question. Are you Doctor Pareena Singh?
I click “Affirm identity” and type in my full name and title as prompted. I haven’t referred to myself by my title since I stopped working as a psychologist, after the first round of chemo failed. The staff around here don’t know I have my doctorate.
It feels good to be recognized. I turn the e-reader over, checking for signs that someone has tampered with it. Whoever sent it to me must have programmed it with my name.
Another question appears on screen. Do you have children?
What the hell? That’s invasive. I should throw the thing aside in protest. Instead, I hit “No” in a huff. I must be really bored.
Another question pops on screen. It keeps chirping, so I keep answering.
Over an hour later, I lay back on the pillows, exhausted. I’ve answered over a hundred questions. They just kept coming—asking about my family, my career, even whether or not I had a cat. It reminded me of a dating site one of my friends got me to join—answer all these questions and they’d match you with your true love. After my diagnosis, I stopped dating. I didn’t want to find my true love only to tell him I had a few years to live.
I close my eyes for a moment until the device beeps impatiently. New words swim across the screen.
Swipe right for abduction.
That’s new. The text blinks at me, green.
Swipe right for abduction.
This has got to be the weirdest computer game ever invented.
Swipe right for abduction.
Well, what can it hurt? I touch the screen with a finger, pressing lightly to steady it. My hands are bony with veins standing out. They look like they belong to a much older woman.
Doctor Pareena Singh… My name scrolls across the screen once again. Swipe right for abduction.
What the hell. I’m stuck in this hospital bed, dying of Stage IV cancer. My e-reader wants me to swipe right to play a stupid game?
I’ve got nothing to lose.
I place a trembling finger on the screen. The e-reader gives an encouraging chirp as I slide my finger to the right....
Author’s Note
Once upon a time, in a coffeeshop far, far away, two authors met to talk about reading books, writing books, publishing books, cosplay and more books. Naturally the conversation turned to giant alien cocks.
Okay, maybe that’s not how it happened, but over soup and salad, we started playing with the seed of a story. The seed took root and now you have this book. If you like it, please let us know —we have plans to continue the series, starting with Bodgan’s book, but no deadline. If you nag us, you might get it sooner…
Love to our editor Miranda, our author friends and supportive family, the Goddesses and Angel Legion on Facebook. And to you, who read this book all the way to the end.
XOXO
Golden & Lee
About Lee Savino
Lee Savino is a USA today bestselling author, mom and choco-holic.
Warning: Do not read her Berserker series, or you will be addicted to the huge, dominant warriors who will stop at nothing to claim their mates.
I repeat: Do. Not. Read. The Berserker Saga. Especially not the hot excerpt on the next page…
Download a free book from www.leesavino.com (don’t read that, either. Too much hot sexy lovin’).
Excerpt: Sold to the Berserkers
A ménage shifter romance
By Lee Savino
The day my stepfather sold me to the Berserkers, I woke at dawn with him leering over me. “Get up.” He made to kick me and I scrambled out of my sleep stupor to my feet.
“I need your help with a delivery.”
I nodded and glanced at my sleeping mother and siblings. I didn’t trust my stepfather around my three younger sisters, but if I was gone with him all day, they’d be safe. I’d taken to carrying a dirk myself. I did not dare kill him; we needed him for food and shelter, but if he attacked me again, I would fight.
My mother’s second husband hated me, ever since the last time he’d tried to take me and I had fought back. My mother was gone to market, and when he tried to grab me, something in me snapped. I would not let him
touch me again. I fought, kicking and scratching, and finally grabbing an iron pot and scalding him with heated water.
He bellowed and looked as if he wanted to hurt me, but kept his distance. When my mother returned he pretended like nothing was wrong, but his eyes followed me with hatred and cunning.
Out loud he called me ugly and mocking the scar that marred my neck since a wild dog attacked me when I was young. I ignored this and kept my distance. I’d heard the taunts about my hideous face since the wounds had healed into scars, a mass of silver tissue at my neck.
That morning, I wrapped a scarf over my hair and scarred neck and followed my stepfather, carrying his wares down the old road. At first I thought we were headed to the great market, but when we reached the fork in the road and he went an unfamiliar way, I hesitated. Something wasn’t right.
“This way, cur.” He’d taken to calling me “dog”. He’d taunted me, saying the only sounds I could make were grunts like a beast, so I might as well be one. He was right. The attack had taken my voice by damaging my throat.
If I followed him into the forest and he tried to kill me, I wouldn’t even be able to cry out.
“There’s a rich man who asked for his wares delivered to his door.” He marched on without a backward glance and I followed.
I had lived all my life in the kingdom of Alba, but when my father died and my mother remarried, we moved to my stepfather’s village in the highlands, at the foot of the great, forbidding mountains. There were stories of evil that lived in the dark crevices of the heights, but I’d never believed them.
I knew enough monsters living in plain sight.
The longer we walked, the lower the sun sank in the sky, the more I knew my stepfather was trying to trick me, that there was no rich man waiting for these wares.
When the path curved, and my stepfather stepped out from behind a boulder to surprise me, I was half ready, but before I could reach for my dirk he struck me so hard I fell.
I woke tied to a tree.
The light was lower, heralding dusk. I struggled silently, frantic gasps escaping from my scarred throat. My stepfather stepped into view and I felt a second of relief at a familiar face, before remembering the evil this man had wrought on my body. Whatever he was planning, it would bode ill for me, and my younger sisters. If I didn’t survive, they would eventually share the same fate as mine.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Just in time for the sale.”
I strained but my bonds held fast. As my stepfather approached, I realized that the scarf that I wrapped around my neck to hide my scars had fallen, exposing them. Out of habit, I twitched my head to the side, tucking my bad side towards my shoulder.
My stepfather smirked.
“So ugly,” he sneered. “I could never find a husband for you, but I found someone to take you. A group of warriors passing through who saw you, and want to slake their lust on your body. Who knows, if you please them, they may let you live. But I doubt you’ll survive these men. They’re foreigners, mercenaries, come to fight for the king. Berserkers. If you’re lucky your death will be swift when they tear you apart.”
I’d heard the tales of berserker warriors, fearsome warriors of old. Ageless, timeless, they’d sailed over the seas to the land, plundering, killing, taking slaves, they fought for our kings, and their own. Nothing could stand in their path when they went into a killing rage.
I fought to keep my fear off my face. Berserker's were a myth, so my stepfather had probably sold me to a band of passing soldiers who would take their pleasure from my flesh before leaving me for dead, or selling me on.
“I could’ve sold you long ago, if I stripped you bare and put a bag over you head to hide those scars.”
His hands pawed at me, and I shied away from his disgusting breath. He slapped me, then tore at my braid, letting my hair spill over my face and shoulders.
Bound as I was, I still could glare at him. I could do nothing to stop the sale, but I hoped my fierce expression told him I’d fight to the death if he tried to force himself on me.
His hand started to wander down towards my breast when a shadow moved on the edge of the clearing. It caught my eye and I startled. My stepfather stepped back as the warriors poured from the trees.
My first thought was that they were not men, but beasts. They prowled forward, dark shapes almost one with the shadows. A few wore animal pelts and held back, lurking on the edge of the woods. Two came forward, wearing the garb of warriors, bristling with weapons. One had dark hair, and the other long, dirty blond with a beard to match.
Their eyes glowed with a terrifying light.
As they approached, the smell of raw meat and blood wafted over us, and my stomach twisted. I was glad my stepfather hadn’t fed me all day, or I would’ve emptied my guts on the ground.
My stepfather’s face and tone took on the wheedling expression I’d seen when he was selling in the market.
“Good evening, sirs,” he cringed before the largest, the blond with hair streaming down his chest.
They were perfectly silent, but the blond approached, fixing me with strange golden eyes.
Their faces were fair enough, but their hulking forms and the quick, light way they moved made me catch my breath. I had never seen such massive men. Beside them, my stepfather looked like an ugly dwarf.
“This is the one you wanted,” my stepfather continued. “She’s healthy and strong. She will be a good slave for you.”
My body would’ve shaken with terror, if I were not bound so tightly.
A dark haired warrior stepped up beside the blond and the two exchanged a look.
“You asked for the one with scars.” My stepfather took my hair and jerked my head back, exposing the horrible, silvery mass. I shut my eyes, tears squeezing out at the sudden pain and humiliation.
The next thing I knew, my stepfather’s grip loosened. A grunt, and I opened my eyes to see the dark haired warrior standing at my side. My stepfather sprawled on the ground as if he’d been pushed.
The blond leader prodded a boot into my stepfather’s side.
“Get up,” the blond said, in a voice that was more a growl than a human sound. It curdled my blood. My stepfather scrambled to his feet.
The black haired man cut away the last of my bonds, and I sagged forward. I would’ve fallen but he caught me easily and set me on my feet, keeping his arms around me. I was not the smallest woman, but he was a giant. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, but he held me carefully. I stared at him, taking in his raven dark hair and strange gold eyes.
He tucked me closer to his muscled body.
Meanwhile, my stepfather whined. “I just wanted to show you the scars—”
Again that frightening growl from the blond. “You don’t touch what is ours.”
“I don’t want to touch her.” My stepfather spat.
Despite myself, I cowered against the man who held me. A stranger I had never met, he was still a safer haven than my stepfather.
“I only wish to make sure you are satisfied, milords. Do you want to sample her?” my stepfather asked in an evil tone. He wanted to see me torn apart.
A growl rumbled under my ear and I lifted my head. Who were these men, these great warriors who had bought and paid for me? The arms around my body were strong and solid, inescapable, but the gold eyes looking down at me were kind. The warrior ran his thumb across the pad of my lips, and his fingers were gentle for such a large, violent looking warrior. Under the scent of blood, he smelled of snow and sharp cold, a clean scent.
He pressed his face against my head, breathing in a deep breath.
The blond was looking at us.
“It’s her,” the black haired man growled, his voice so guttural. “This is the one.”
One of his hands came to cover the side of my face and throat, holding my face to his chest in a protective gesture.
I closed my eyes, relaxing in the solid warmth of the warrior’s body.
A clink of gold, an
d the deed was done. I’d been sold.
Sold to the Berserkers
When Brenna’s father sells her to a band of passing warriors, her only thought is to survive. She doesn’t expect to be claimed by the two fearsome warriors who lead the Berserker clan. Kept in captivity, she is coddled and cared for, treated more like a savior than a slave. Can captivity lead to love? And when she discovers the truth behind the myth of the fearsome warriors, can she accept her place as the Berserkers’ true mate?
Sold to the Berserkers is a standalone, short, MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman. Read now:
Sold to the Berserkers
Also by Lee Savino
Free book at www.leesavino.com
Contemporary Romance
Her Marine Daddy (free on all ebook retailers)
The Berserker Saga and Berserker Brides (menage werewolves)
Draekons (Dragons in Exile) with Lili Zander (menage alien dragons)
Bad Boy Alphas with Renee Rose (werewolves)
About Golden Angel
Angel is an international best-selling BDSM and interracial romance author and self-described bibliophile with a "kinky" bent who loves to write stories for the characters in her head. If she didn't get them out, she's pretty sure she'd go just a little crazy.
She is happily married, old enough to know better but still too young to care, and a big fan of happily-ever-afters, strong heroes and heroines, and sizzling chemistry.