Elaina M. Roberts's Blog: News from the Between, page 10

Subject 5691 – The Fathomless Pool

If I have a fit, it’s all Night Tempest‘s fault! I swear these Flash Fiction pieces are going to kill me. Not because of the prompts, but because I’m so damn impatient to post the chapters! I finished this Monday night and have been twitching to post it ever since. I enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it! Oh, and the content is getting increasingly NSFW. If you click to continue, you acknowledge that you are at least eighteen and not uptight about sex.

As always, dart over to Night’s site, read her entry, check out the others participating, then return for more Petri and Grokhaar. This week, I got to choose the prompts. I found many, many lovely generators over at Chaotic Shiny and used an item each from five of the most promising ones.

Holiday – Crollifus is a cultural holiday celebrated on the summer solstice. It is associated with wildness, a reunion and peace. Traditions include private games of chance, exchanges of gifts and atonement.
Flag – an oriflamme with two stripes of olive and pale yellow, and a cross of dark green. The emblem is an oak tree. (oriflamme – any triangular banner with pointed ends, not to be confused with a pennant which is simply a triangle)
Superstition – Finding a poppy in a grove of ironwood trees is a sign that soon you will encounter a duel.
Tarot Card – The Lauded Arcanist – The card depicts a proud youth involved in a search near a lake. It is bordered by mountains. The back is bronze with an ear of corn involving repeating design. It is bordered by glyphs.
Ritual – Fighters trying to be protected from spirits can sacrifice a raven in a temple under a quarter moon.

The previous chapters of the story are (in order):

Petri
The Journey Begins
Kandaria

*****

Petri watched the pilot as comprehension dawned on Grokhaar’s ruggedly handsome face. The Alliance had spent millions of credits and wasted decades, if not longer, attempting to create a race of superior beings. They tried various methods – from injecting humanoids from various planets with foreign DNA to attempting to create sentient androids – but none had met with success. Even Subject 5691, the longest to survive their genetic manipulations, had been deemed a failure. During all their attempts over the years, one thing remained a constant: the name granted to those few who attained enough sentience to understand. Petri. An insult designed to remind each of them that they were nothing more than experiments; a creature born from the manipulation of cells and matter. The results grown in a Petri Dish.

“Do you like that name, lad?” A shiver ran the length of his spine at the growling quality of the Den’Lastrian’s voice. It sounded like danger and safety and lust all rolled into a large, russet-skinned, sexy specimen of manhood.

“It is better than a number, is it not?” He hissed.

“Bare those fangs at me again, boy, and I will have you against the wall of this ship, to Minost’s puckered arse with refueling!” Petri felt the cool metal of the ship’s wall against his bare back as the pilot closed the distance between them to mere millimeters. He hissed when Grokhaar’s thick cock pressed against his hip; he stifled a moan when he felt the metal ring that adorned it.

He placed his hands on the Den’Lastrian’s chest, intending to push him away. The pilot’s groan muffled his at the play of hard muscles rippling beneath his skin. It was his first flesh-to-flesh contact with another living being; even the scientists had worn gloves at all times when dealing with him. He ran his fingers over his smooth chest, the hard nipples pierced by the titanium hoops, and down his toned stomach. His breath quickened, his fangs ached, and his dick peeked over the band of the tight trousers. A large hand wrapped around each of his wrists when he brushed the edges of the breechcloth flaps.

“If we start that, we won’t leave the ship for a few hours at least, and I don’t want to be here that long.” Petri shuddered when Grokhaar trapped his hands against his broad chest, covering the cool rings. He felt that same tension from earlier pooling in his groin. How would the Den’Lastrian’s hands feel on his aching flesh? “Hold that thought until we get off this tharking rock, lad. The next leg of this journey will take a few days. Plenty of time for a bit of exploration.”

Grokhaar’s searing crimson gaze sent waves of heat over his skin. He ached to touch and be touched. He longed to lick and bite and drink of the man’s body. He needed in a way that made his chest tight and his fangs throb. “Yes,” he hissed. He curled his fingers around the thin rings, giving them a light tug, and savored the large man’s groan. “I want to know you, Grokhaar Xandria. I want to know how to ease this ache I have for you. I want to taste your blood and sweat on my tongue. You will help me.”

“Sounding mighty bossy there, lad.” Petri narrowed his eyes at the man’s sudden grin. “I like it. Can’t stand a docile bedmate.” When the Den’Lastrian ghosted his lips with a kiss, his heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. Such a brief touch, and yet how it burned! He wanted more. A smile curved his lips. If the pilot wished to stoke his desire into a raging inferno, he would repay him in kind.

“We shall have to see if you maintain your appreciation once this refueling is complete.” He twisted his hands free, brushing over the impressive bulge beneath the flap of the breechcloth. His smile widened when Grokhaar sucked in a shaky breath, and he stepped away from the tempting male. “In order to refuel, we must first leave this ship. After you, captain.”

The pilot snarled something unintelligible beneath his breath and turned towards the hatch. “The moment we make the jump, lad. Not one second later.” Petri acknowledged the vow with a hungry smile and a glancing touch of the firm ass beneath the breechcloth. Grokhaar stumbled. “Minost’s horns, lad, you’re killing me! Hands to yourself, now, or the bay’s crew will get a show they’ll not soon forget.”

“As you wish.”

On their way off the ship, Petri grabbed the stolen Alliance pulsegun. He strapped it to his bicep with practiced ease and wondered which scientist had programmed that into his genetic coding. Time was fluid on the space station. The scientists used the artificial lights to lengthen and shorten his days, documenting his vital statistics and the affect the changes made on his sleep schedule and mental health. He learned how to play their game, how to twist their experiments to give them the results he wished them to have. He was tired of expending energy on defeating their cruel tests. It was time to turn the tables on his creators. Making sure the weapon was visible was part of his game. If the guards commandeered it, then the tracking chip remained on Kandar, creating a dead trail. If they did not, he would crush and dispose of the chip while they purchased supplies. Either way, the Alliance would find no trace of him beyond this planet.

They stepped from the ship and onto the busy shuttle dock. Grokhaar placed his palm to the dock console by his ship, then clicked through a series of options and requests. The system checked his available credits, approved the requests, and sent the required number of MechBots to perform the services. He watched the floating spheres as they drained the refuse tanks, performed minor repairs, and launched the fueling sequence. Unlike the medical androids, few providers programmed sentience into the mechanical robots. They were created to perform specific tasks in specific ways without thought or question. It made him wonder why his creators gave him sentience. What had been their plans for him? What made him a failure when none of the others outlived their first growth cycle?

“Welcome to Kandar, lad.” Grokhaar waved a hand to indicate the shuttle docks, then started the walk towards a central gate. “A lush, green planet with too much water and not enough common sense. Kandar is…”

“…the fifth planet in the Listervynn System, orbiting a Class V Yellow Dwarf star along with four other planets.” Petri completed the sentence, his eyes darting around the busy dock. He identified all the exits, the number of workmen present, the number of guards, types of weapons, and the probability of surviving a fight should it come to that. The calculations took less than a minute, and he was pleased with his conclusions. “Its population is primarily humanoid, with a growing number of refugees from the swamp planet of Glanshyl. Kandar consists of eight distinct territories, ruled by a King or tribal chief, who are controlled by a planetary governing body of mystics known only as the Kandarian Council. Fifteen Alliance years ago, envoys from Furthark, the third planet in the Raletian System, arrived to initiate trade with the planet. The Kandarian Council rejected their negotiations due to a vision, but the Furtharkii envoys never returned to their home planet. Furthark declared war when the Kandarians failed to produce their emissaries. They have been at war since.”

“You sure know your history, lad.”

“I was trained to know.”

The guards stepped forward when they approached the gate. Petri followed the larger man’s lead, though he easily could have neutralized any perceived threat from the lax guards. The men claimed that several of their weapons were contraband or too dangerous for the citizens of Kinstral, the port city. Grokhaar lost the ornate sword and the engraved daggers. Petri maintained a stoic countenance when they demanded he relinquish the Alliance pulsegun. Fifteen minutes later, they stepped onto the transport pods while the guards argued over their stolen weaponry.

“By the eight suns, lad, that was a skeevy trick to pull.” The large man chuckled as he led them through the crowded bazaar.

“I felt it only appropriate that they dispose of the weapon.” Petri’s lips quirked. Grokhaar’s amusement was infectious, and he felt the man’s approval keenly. “It was a mutually beneficial plan. They get the credits for the weapon, while we dispose of it.”

“Tharking genius! Ah, here we are. The Fathomless Pool. The ship can replicate most food items, but they taste like the sweat off a Flanghorn cratercat’s balls. It’s worth the extra credits to me to purchase a few crates of something that actually tastes good.”

The Fathomless Pool occupied a prime location in the market, a corner building facing the center square. A floating waterfall spelled out the tavern’s name, creating a soothing environment in the midst of the commercial chaos. The building grew on an island in the middle of a small lake, its walls formed from living trees. Growing amongst the leafy canopy are two flags facing the central market. Fluttering in the artificial breeze, the twin oriflammes bore two stripes of olive and pale yellow, and a cross of dark green. The emblem of an oak tree dominated the center panel. Stepping stones provided access to the tavern, each painted with the design found on the banners and enspelled against moss or mold.

Inside, the air was cool and damp but not cloying. Petri inhaled the clean, earthy scent of fresh tilled dirt laced with the subtle aroma of the flowers that cascaded from the ceiling. Each blossom glowed, providing the room with a gentle light that cast few shadows. It was a stunning, relaxing effect, yet it set him on edge. He took a mental inventory of the weapons the guards allowed him to retain as well as a visual inventory of the patrons of the tavern and the visible exits. He also remained close to Grokhaar. He was confident that the Den’Lastrian was no stranger to combat, but he was holding the man to his promise. He refused to lose him before he got a taste of the handsome male.

“Borlacht, you tharking son of a Silaurian slave hound, how have you been?”

“Grok, you washed-up slab of Minostian bull dung.” The Den’Lastrian and the bartender shook hands, then hugged with resounding slaps on the back. Petri watched the exchange with fascination. “What can I get you this time? More flisterberries? A crate of brandy pears? I got a fresh supply of Pyperian sweetmelons just yesterday. I can get you a crate of them at a premium.”

“I’ve got a passenger this trip, Borlacht.” Petri nodded to the merchant in acknowledgement. Every instinct screamed at him to leave this building, but he saw no reason for his unease. “I’ll need a crate of the berries and the melons.”

The two settled into negotiations while he scanned the crowd. No one had moved and yet something teased at the edge of his consciousness. He closed his eyes, focused his thoughts, then looked around again. The patrons remained in place. Exactly in place. He hissed softly, staring at the nearest table. The couple looked natural, the man lifting his mug while the woman laughed, yet they were static. He palmed a dagger in each hand, shouting to Grokhaar to arm himself. Just as the large man uncoiled his whip, the illusion fell to reveal a dozen armed guards and a single cloaked figure.

Subject 5691 – Kandaria

Time once more for NightTempest’s Flash Fiction prompts, and the return of Grokhaar and Petri. The prompt was a bit different this week, instead of a photo, we had random words and sentences/fragments. The rules were simple: use one of the following sentences/sentence fragments, and two of the listed words. Maximum word count remained at 2000. I fell a bit short this week at only 1941, but it was a good spot to stop. My choices are indicated below in bold italics.

Prompts:

1.  He hadn’t seen the old man since

2.  This time it wouldn’t be so easy to fool them.

3.  He watched, helpless, as the door closed behind her

4. The attack was over in seconds

5. His voice had never sounded so cold

asinine, computation, radical, evangelical, dirty

This Flash Fiction piece is a continuation of the last two weeks’ entries. If you wish to read from the beginning:

Petri
The Journey Begins

 ******

Petri’s blood pounded in his ears as he listened to Grokhaar and the unknown female, Fenellia. The pilot’s friendly manner and blatant sexual interest had chipped away at his wariness to his detriment. The idea that the large male would turn him over, sell him to the Alliance made his heart ache in a strange and unwelcome manner. Why should he care if the man valued a few credits over a hijacking stowaway? He shouldn’t. He could easily see himself doing the same. He shouldn’t care at all.

Yet, he did.

As the deep voice rumbled through the thin door, he forced his emotions aside to assess his situation. His creators had graced him with the knowledge to pilot Alliance fighters, but the Diamond had a unique layout and controls. He had watched the Den’Lastrian’s launch procedures, the flight away from the station’s gravitational pull, and the jump to this planet, but the large man’s frame hid much of the detailed and necessary computations. Regardless, he needed to plan yet another escape.

His eyes darted around the small chamber in search for a potential weapon. He would not return to the Alliance. He would not return to their laboratory. He would not! With a hiss, he pushed away from the door and rummaged through the drawers. Medpacks and bandages disappeared into a discarded shoulder bag, along with several pairs of small scissors. They wouldn’t be useful as weapons, but they would have to do for now. His pulse gun was with the Alliance gear in the cockpit of the ship.

A second search revealed nothing else of use. The vidcom fell silent so he straightened the bathing chamber, tied the flap on the leather bag, and draped the strap across his chest. He positioned it low on his waist, and to the rear on his left hip. Out of the way if the need arose for defensive or offensive maneuvers. When the Den’Lastrian knocked on the door, he squared his shoulders and stepped from the small room.

“Minost’s thundering cock, lad,” Grokhaar choked out. “You’re determined to tharking kill me.”

Petri arched a brow at the expletive, looking at his relaxed hands and stance in question. Then, he caught the large man’s eyes and followed their heated gaze over his well-defined body. He felt the pilot’s lust like ripples of sonic waves pounding straight into his groin, which caused his manhood to twitch and throb with excitement. When the pilot licked his full lips and revealed the ball of titanium that pierced his tongue, he hardened even more.

“Will this suffice?” Petri hissed through elongated fangs. He hated that his reaction to the big man had not changed with the knowledge of his approaching betrayal. He drank in the sight of the massive chest, the nipples pierced by the gleaming rings, the sizeable bulge barely hidden by the decorative flaps of the breechcloth. He wanted to taste Grokhaar in every way imaginable, and that angered him further.

“Yeah, just, um, give me a second and then we can leave.”

He stepped aside as Grokhaar brushed past. The heat radiating from the large man’s russet skin called to his throbbing fangs and heightened his need. When the thin door closed behind the large man, followed by a moaning sigh, he was intrigued. Petri pressed his ear to the cool metal, fascinated by the rhythmic fleshy thuds, the rumbling groans, and muffled curses that reached his ears. His member throbbed as latent, implanted memories swam to the surface.

He ran his fingers over the thin material of his trousers, hissing as his flesh leapt at the teasing touch. By the forgotten gods, what was this need that filled him? This ache? This hunger? Reaching beneath the band, he wrapped his hand around the throbbing length and gave it a single stroke. His fangs pierced his bottom lip as he muffled his groan. He’d felt these sensations before, but never by his own hand, and never voluntarily. With the blood coursing through his body and filling his hard flesh, Petri leaned against the door and matched the erotic rhythm of the unseen Den’Lastrian. When Grokhaar increased his speed, he bit back a curse as his hand flew along his slick cock. Jolts of pleasure radiated throughout his body as he pumped his hips into his stroking hand, and he felt the hard flesh pulse, grow, and harden even further.

His name was amongst the groaned expletives  that filtered through the thin door just moments before the room fell silent. Grokhaar’s name hovered on the edge of his lips as he coated his chest and hand with a warm, thick white fluid. Gasping, Petri leaned against the wall as the room spun. His manhood gave a final twitch, then retreated to its relaxed state. The skin was too sensitive to touch, yet he still explored this new sensation with fascination. Only when he heard movement in the bathing chamber did he adjust his trousers and search for something to clean his chest and hand.

******

Grokhaar drifted along on the high of his orgasmic afterglow. The sight of his stowaway in those body-hugging trousers had been the final straw to his raging libido. Minost’s horns, how could the man get even sexier? He’d seen him tharking naked, and yet the way that material caressed and framed his beautiful dick had sent him into a frenzy. His choices were simple: take care of things himself or bend the lad over his bed and fuck him until he passed out. Somehow he didn’t think that was appropriate until he knew the young man’s name.

He grabbed the handheld cleaner and ran the pulsing wand over his skin. The warm sonic waves washed over him, removing the sweat and semen from his skin, as he pondered his mysterious passenger. With Kandar at war with Furthark, the witch women in charge of their fractured government would seize anything or anyone they felt would grant them some kind of an advantage. He heard the greed in Fenellia’s voice. Her band of evangelical mystics would seek any excuse to detain, question, test, or torture 5691 into aiding their cause. He knew their ways, and refused to allow that to happen.

Grok tucked his half-hard dick into the pouch and smoothed the flaps into place. As much as he wanted to ask the lad to lend him a hand with his simmering lust, they had more important things to focus on, like resupplying his food and fuel, and getting the thark off this messed-up rock. He’d spent more than his fair share of days in their prison cells before he learned to maneuver through their archaic and sometimes contradictory laws. If the Alliance sought the lad, then they would need to be extra careful.

As he left the bathing chamber, the scent of lust, sweat, and sex assaulted his nostrils. He inhaled the heady odors as his eyes captured those of his unexpected passenger. Nearly black and glowing with an unholy light, the young man’s eyes beckoned him to close the distance between them, to suck the pearl of blood from his plump lip and trace the trail of sweat over his toned chest with his pierced tongue. One step became two, then three as he pinned the gorgeous male against the wall.

“You have no idea just how tharking tempting you are, do you, lad?” Grokhaar groaned when the young man flashed those sexy as fuck fangs. By the eight suns, he was not going to be responsible for his actions! “I want you,” he rumbled in his guest’s ear, and thrilled at the shudder that swept over the slim body pressed against his. “I want to feel you, taste you, touch you, and fuck you until you can’t see straight. Then, I want you to do the same to me. Do you understand?”

“Before or after you sell me to the Alliance for a few credits, Den’Lastrian?” The big man blinked in shock. His voice had never sounded so cold, even when the man had held a pulse gun to his head.

“Your brain is full of Silaurian maggots if you think I’d do a thing like that, lad.” Grok stepped away from the enticing male, torn between the urge to hit something or kiss the handsome man senseless. “Listen, I’m a scavenger, a smuggler. I do shady deeds and make shady deals for a few Alliance credits. When she mentioned the reward, I told the witch-woman what she expected to hear. I wouldn’t sell my own mother – Minost take her dirty, thieving soul – to those beetle-brained listertharks.”

Silence stretched between them as his stowaway stared at him with his dark, fathomless eyes. The tips of his fangs glinted against his lips in the artificial light, capturing the Den’Lastrian’s attention once more. What world contained such sensual creatures and why hadn’t he encountered them before? The lad’s slim build, deceptive strength, and effortless grace and elegant movements bespoke of intense training in the arts. Trouble was, Grok wasn’t certain if that art was dance or assassination.

“I will not return, Grokhaar Xandria.”

“That’s good, lad, because I don’t particularly want to lose you just yet.” He grinned and strapped a variety of weaponry onto his large frame. A jagged sword slid into a sheath down the center of his spine, while a pair of daggers disappeared into each boot. An antique pulse gun rested on his left hip; the right held a worn bullwhip. “We’re going to need to dispose of the Alliance’s little shock-toy. Almost all of the blasted things have tracking chips in them, something I’m sure you’d like to avoid, yes?”

“Correct, but I would also like to be armed on this strange planet.”

“You will be.” Grok touched one of the decorative elements engraved into his massive headboard. There was a metallic click, a whirr, and the dresser rotated into the wall to be replaced by a small armory. “What can you use, lad?”

“All of them.” The words were spoken so calmly, that they took awhile for him to comprehend. When they did, he observed his passenger with new appreciation, and a resurgence of lust. Gorgeous, sexy, and skilled with a weapon? The lad was better than a pool of spring water in the Minostian Desert. “Should they be hidden?”

“Go for a mix. They’ll commandeer some for port taxes, so you don’t want them to leave you unarmed. If they find none, they’ll commandeer you.”

“You are willing to lose your ceremonial weapons?” Knives disappeared into his knee-high boots while he wove the slender garrotes into the lacings along his upper thigh. He strapped a pulse gun to his right thigh, a scimitar between his shoulder blades, and a pair of throwing daggers to his wrists. Grok fought the renewed surge of lust at the vision of death and beauty before him.

“My ceremonials blades are well hidden. These were taken from an abandoned freighter. Kept them for those planets that impose port taxes.”

“Bribes, you mean.”

“Whatever works.” Grokhaar shrugged. “Now, stay close to me, don’t stare at anyone in robes, and don’t touch anything you aren’t willing to buy. Fenellia and I have had our moments, but she’d sell us both to the Alliance if she thought they’d help with this tharking war. Got that, lad?”

“Petri.” The smaller man’s voice was so quiet, he almost missed it. He stopped and turned with the question poised on his lips. “I have no name – just the number – but the scientists blessed me,” his lip curled, “with their idea of a joke. They called me Petri.”

Sunday Summary

Yup, the week is finally over and it’s time to wrap this up. By the time this goes live, I will have given away five (5) of the (7) e-books – only five because it’s doubtful I’ve stayed up until midnight to pick the winner. Sorry, but my bed is super jealous if I stay up too late, and we’re trying to sustain a long-term relationship. I’ll pick Saturday’s winner as soon as I’ve managed to move past the just-woke-up zombie stage, so it doesn’t go to some post trying to sell me viagra. Or breast enhancement. Or both O.o

Over the week, you’ve gotten a glimpse into the completed book, things that were cut, some background, and some insights. As we wait for the countdown to midnight (with the hope that I didn’t date this entire thing incorrectly and thus lose a day), let’s go with a last refresher on the rules and then the final question of the week.

The Giveaway is for one (1) $25 Amazon Gift Card, one (1) signed paperback copy of The Other Half, printed via CreateSpace in a 6×9 format, one (1) custom bookmark with the cover of the book on a charm, and a total of seven (7) ebooks of any format. I’m giving away one (1) ebook per day, based on comments in the daily posts. For the daily giveaways, I’ll use a random number generator and the comment with that number wins the ebook (I’ll contact you within a day or two).

I should be able to contact the winners for both the rafflecopter items and the ebook before noon Monday, US CST, July 15. This contest is open to all, so have fun.

The rules are simple: Sign in to Rafflecopter using the widget and…

Tweet about the contest
Follow me on Twitter
Like my author page on Facebook

For the daily ebook giveaway, read the question at the end of each post and comment your answer. It doesn’t have to be long, or even true, just show me you’re not a bot and all will be well If you haven’t commented before, it will go into moderation but I will NOT draw for a day until all comments are reviewed/approved.

Final Question: What kind of extras and goodies do you like to see on an author’s website – character biographies, world building notes, histories, related shorts, ? Feel free to list more than one!

Sapphire’s Saturday Silliness

Yesterday’s post was kind of grim, so I’ve brought in a bit of help from my favorite pixie friend, Sapphire. As the smallest of the Arbiter’s Royal Entourage, she and her mate, Opal, are often overlooked and underestimated by both humans and nonhumans. In an effort to better understand these minute but powerful beings, I’ve asked her tell us a bit about herself and her abilities.

“So, you just want me to talk and you’re going to write it down so others can read it? I can do that. I’m good at talking! Let’s see… Opal and I come from Kedaunnor, the central and largest kingdom in the Fae Lands. Our tribe lives on the northeastern-most corner, where we share a border with Peltaesi. Peltaesi is beautiful – full of fliers and pegasi and other tribes of pixies and nixies – and is mostly forest with cities built into the trees. They’ve got the bestest glisterberry bushes in all the Fae Lands, though the nixies never like to share!” The tiny creature crossed her arms over her chest with a pout. “Mean ol’ poopy-heads. But we showed them! When our king put out a call for volunteers for the human plane, Opal thought it was a swell idea! Well, he thought it sounded pretty nifty. Okay, he grudgingly agreed because I thought it sounded swell. Plus, I knew we could do stuff the other Talls couldn’t.

“Anyway, we closed up our cottage and flew and flew and few until we arrived at Caelsiire. Caelsiire! You know, where the palace is? Keep up, silly author person. When we arrived, no one wanted to let us in. They laughed at us because we’re pixies. Said we were too small. Nothing but bugs! But the Royal Advisor, his name is Lysavar Tinueth if you’ve been keeping up. He said all who answered the summons was to be heard, so we got to talk to the King! He’s super-nice and was ever-so-kind. He was impressed with us. Us! Pixies! He even told us we could become part of his entourage. I think Opal fainted and I even felt a bit woozy. We thought it would be grand to meet the king. We never really expected him to pick us.”

Sapphire fluttered over to blueberry muffin and crumbled off a tiny chunk onto a minute napkin. Settling back onto a soft cushion, she nibbled the muffin and sipped from a miniature teacup full of café au lait. A dice served as a table as she daintily finished her snack. She dabbed her mouth with a brilliant cerulean napkin and brushed the crumbs from her vivid, multi-hued blue skirts. Her tiny fingers tapped the side of the porcelain cup as she pondered her next words.

“Now, I’m not going to tell you everything I can do. That’d be cheating and who knows what kind of mean, ugly spider-thing might twist it to do stupid things. I think everyone knows pixies are naturally invisible. We can see each other, of course, but most others can’t unless we want them to. Even a vampire as old and powerful as Pointy Teeth knew I was there but couldn’t see me.” Her chest puffed out with obvious pride. Her wings fluttered, reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of blues. “I can tell if even the wickedest creature is fibbing, no matter if he’s using magic or not! King Urúvion says that makes me a good spy but a poor diplomat. I’m not sure if he meant it as a compliment, but I took it as one. There are other things of course – magic, mind-speaking, and fun things like making something float in the air – but I don’t want to ruin the fun of you finding out more later on!”

And with that, Sapphire faded from view with a tinkle of chirruping laughter.

The Giveaway is for one (1) $25 Amazon Gift Card, one (1) signed paperback copy of The Other Half, printed via CreateSpace in a 6×9 format, one (1) custom bookmark with the cover of the book on a charm, and a total of seven (7) ebooks of any format. I’m giving away one (1) ebook per day, based on comments in the daily posts. For the daily giveaways, I’ll use a random number generator and the comment with that number wins the ebook (I’ll contact you within a day or two).

I should be able to contact the winners for both the rafflecopter items and the ebook before noon Monday, US CST, July 15. This contest is open to all, so have fun.

The rules are simple: Sign in to Rafflecopter using the widget and…

Tweet about the contest
Follow me on Twitter
Like my author page on Facebook

For the daily ebook giveaway, read the question at the end of each post and comment your answer. It doesn’t have to be long, or even true, just show me you’re not a bot and all will be well If you haven’t commented before, it will go into moderation, but I will NOT draw for a day until all comments are reviewed/approved.

Today’s question is this - What innate ability do you wish you had (flying, invisibility, just to name two)?

Subject 5691 – The Journey Begins

First a note – I will count any comments to this post as part of the giveaway for the ebook, The Other Half. Comments on the “official” post, Friday Friends, will begin the day’s numbering and they will conclude on this one. This is to ensure there are no hard feelings for misplaced comments.

For the first time, I’m going to attempt a continuing story through my Flash Fictions. Usually, I barf up a blurb or scene or short that can stand alone never to be seen or heard from again. But Petri was such a compelling character, and the world so tempting, I caved.

Yup, totally caved to the pressure of those dark eyes, my child’s begging, and my own need to know what happens next. So, I used NightTempest‘s latest photo prompt, and continued the story of my lab-created hero and his smuggling companion.

Again, the prompt was a single photo and a 2000 word limit.

writingprompt2 – Fenellia

Now, before you start reading, head over to her site, read her story (LARP!), ooh and ahh and comment, then come back here and read a bit more about Subject 5691.

******

Subject 5691 listened to the large creature’s deep, rambling voice as he steered the ship out of the space dock. Though his entire existence had been spent in the confines of his stark cell, some scientific tinkering during his creation allowed him to recognize the ship’s captain as a Den’Lastrian. The large humanoids averaged two to four meters in height, 110 to 155 kilograms in weight, and were usually built like the Minostian bulls rumored to be in their ancestry. This particular Den’Lastrian was, perhaps, on the smaller scale for his race. That still made him a very impressive and imposing figure. So why did his fangs ache to pierce the man’s thick neck and taste his warm blood on his tongue?

He hissed in confusion, which captured the pilot’s attention. The fringe worlder’s crimson gaze sought his in the reflection of the piloting monitor, a smile curving his full lips. Sexual lust oozed off the man in thick waves, and called to an answering hunger within. His heart thudded against his ribs as he held that burning gaze. Unbidden, a smile formed on his lips, showing off the tips of his deadly fangs. The Den’Lastrian arched a brow at their presence, but refrained from commenting.

“You ever going to tell me your name, lad?” The pilot returned his attention to the controls, breaking his hypnotic hold. Petri sighed as he admired the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and flowing mop of auburn hair. A pair of titanium-tipped horns grew from the Den’Lastrian’s temples, emerging from the unruly mane to curve up and slightly forward. Intricate designs were etched into the smooth bone. More than just his thirst for blood rose as he admired the impressive male. His hands danced over the controls as they dodged and weaved incoming spacecraft, orbiting debris, and Alliance sensors with deft expertise. Petri wondered if they were equally agile on a lover? He stared at his erect flesh in disgust, willing it away. He had not been created to indulge in foolish dreams. “No skin off my tail if you don’t, but it’ll make a long trip even longer, otherwise.”

“Five-Six-Nine-One.” The words scraped over his unused vocal cords like a landslide. He swallowed in an effort to soothe his sore throat, and wished he’d taken more time while drinking from the guard.

“You sound like you’ve been gargling Pyperian worm nuggets, lad. Got some Silaurian ale in that crate to your right, if you feel the need. Should fix you right up.” The large man glanced towards him as he brought up a three dimensional star chart, removed the lines of their registered course, and laid new ones on a round-about course to Den’Lastria. He swore the pilot drooled at the sight of his stubborn erection. Wishful thinking?

Petri pulled a glowing green bottle from the secured container. Once again, the elegant lines and symbols mocked him for his ignorance. Once again, anger and helplessness battled for supremacy. Was this the right bottle? Should he ask or risk it? He growled at his lack of knowledge, and peeled the wrapper from the lid. He almost had the bottle to his lips when the Den’Lastrian’s bark of laughter echoed in the small control room.

“Right tharking eager there, aren’t you, lad?” The pilot dismissed the star chart, spun his chair around, and propped his booted feet onto some nearby pipes. Holding out his hand for the bottle, his fading chuckles rumbled through his chest like an Alliance fighter’s engines. “You got the right idea, though. Pass the bottle! It’s a long, boring trip to the home planet. Now, since you’re not eager to give up your name, I’ll jump first and hand over mine. Grokhaar Xandria, captain of the Den’Lastrian Diamond, independent retriever of precious gems, ores, and metals, and purveyor of new and gently-used goods at your service.”

The pilot proffered a crisp salute before taking a deep drink from the bottle of expensive ale. Petri watched him for signs of deceit or treachery, but the large man’s eyes, facial expressions, and body language were relaxed and open. Why? He reclaimed the bottle, and gave it a suspicious sniff. He took the barest of sips, but detected no poisons. The question of why rang through his head once more. He had invaded Grokhaar’s ship, and forced him to smuggle him from the station at gunpoint. Why hadn’t he reported him to the Alliance? Why was he being so nice?

“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Those crimson eyes stared a hole straight into his troubled thoughts. He squirmed in his seat with the realization that he wanted to believe in the man’s good will. He wanted to trust him with his name, such as it was, though it would reveal his wretched heritage. He wanted this Den’Lastrian male to think well of him. He wanted… and that both angered and frightened him. “I said it before – I’ve got no love for the Alliance and their tharking in-worlder arrogance. They take one look at me and see something that’s little more than an animal. A Den’Lastrian. An Independent. A fringe worlder. I’d tell them all to suck my left nut, excepting I’d probably catch something  so skeevy even their doc-bots would be scared of it.”

A shudder shook his body at the mention of the medical androids used by the Alliance scientists. How well he remembered the bite of their cold metal fingers holding him in place as the scientists strapped him to the table for yet another test. How well he remembered the sting of their needles – in his arms, his thighs, his head, his sensitive genitals – while their blank, emotionless faces stared down at him. How well he remembered their unwanted violations, their skillful manipulations in order to see if a created being, an experiment, responded to sexual stimulation and produced viable sperm. How well he remembered!

“They are scared of nothing,” he rasped, draining a third of the harsh spirits in a single gulp and enjoying the burn. “Soulless monsters incapable of empathy or hatred or fear.”

“You’re free of them now, lad.” A large, warm hand patted his shoulder and eased the fragile bottle from his tightening grip. “Hang on as we’re about to make the initial jump. Even if they managed to trace my route, the Alliance isn’t foolish enough to follow you to Den’Lastria.”

******

Grokhaar sipped the remainder of the expensive ale while admiring his mysterious stow-away. The young man was an enigma. A handsome, mouth-wateringly sexy enigma. He wanted to know every detail about the man known as 5691. He wanted to explore every aspect, snuffle every ridge and valley, taste every delectable inch. He was so hard inside his flight suit, he just knew his dick was going to have bruises. He wondered if he’d make his guest uncomfortable if he eased his discomfort right here. Perhaps he’d show off those damned sexy fangs again. Perhaps he’d join in. Perhaps he’d help out. He swallowed down his groan and took another gulp of ale.

What struck him as most unfair was that the lad seemed oblivious to the effect he had on poor, hapless males like himself. There was only so much temptation a man should have to resist before he took matters, or 5691’s enthralling dick, into his own hands. And mouth. And anywhere else the lad chose to stick it. He drained the bottle, tossed it down the refuse chute, and pondered the opposite scenario. By the blinding heat of the eight suns, just the thought of sinking into that smooth, firm ass was going to make him blow a sensor! Thankfully, the whine of the engines as they entered the jump zone distracted him enough to keep him from embarrassing himself. He spun around, checked the console, and altered the navigational screen to show the oncoming rush of stars. The sight always took his breath away.

As they eased into orbit about Kandarian, the first stop on their journey to his home world, he unstrapped from his chair with a smile. “One step further away from those tharking Alliance listers. We’ve got a brief stop here, lad, to take on some food and fuel and offload some cargo. If you’re willing to cover up that gorgeous body of yours, you’re welcome to join me.”

“I have nothing but the uniform that you claimed was inappropriately sized for me,” 5691 murmured softly, his warm, husky voice taunting his aching dick. By Minost’s pendulous nutsack, that voice should be outlawed in every tharking galaxy!

“I’ve got a few things that wouldn’t sell from my last run that might work. Follow me.”

Grok stomped along the narrow passageways, dodging the odd protrusions and random pipes that cluttered the hall with nimble grace. He knew every inch of his ship like the back of his hand… or more like the ridges on his dick, since he spent more time feeling it up than he did studying his own hairy knuckles. Stepping into the modest sleeping chamber, he rummaged through a crate of clothing left behind by former lovers and unsuccessful scavenging trips. Though there were several items that would fit the young man, he sifted through until he found the item that would keep him hard enough to tap out the locking code for his ship: a pair of sleek black trousers designed to mold to its wearer’s body. Split up the sides and held together with thin, luminescent fibers, the pants would hug the lad’s tight ass and impressive package, while showing off those long, muscular legs. He tossed the flimsy garment and a pair of boots to the young man, as eager to see him in the body-hugging material as he was to keep him nude.

“On-screen.” He barked when the computer chirped with an incoming message. He stripped off the jacket considered so necessary by the Alliance prudes. As a Den’Lastrian, he chafed under such unnecessary constraints. Something on his feet and a gentle nest for his nethers was all he required by way of clothing. He was kicking off his boots when a cloaked and faceless figure filled the screen, silhouetted against the background of a Kandarian forest. “Ah, Fenellia, darlin’, you knew I’d be changing. Wanted to get another glimpse at me, hmm?”

“Grokhaar, I fear we may have a problem. Can you connect into our secure feed?”

“Sure, you old spoil-sport. Just give me a moment.” He glanced over at his companion, shrugged, and pointed him towards the bathing chamber. “If you want to change without an audience, I shouldn’t be long here.” The lad nodded and slipped through the door. Grok plugged in the new frequency, along with the password and other hoops he had to jump through in order to connect, and the screen flickered back to life. He kicked out of his trousers, stretching his naked body with a sigh. “Alright, Fenellia, spill.”

“You have a guest on board your ship.”

“What of it? It’s my ship, witch woman,” he snorted as he tied the breechcloth into place. The material outlined the titanium hoop through the head of his penis until he smoothed the two embroidered flaps into place over his pouched genitals and otherwise bare ass. He adjusted the matching hoops on his nipples, draped a series of chains between the two, and slid his nose- and ear-hoops into place. The silver jewelry gleamed against his deep burgundy skin.

“You bring danger to yourself, our world, and any world that harbors him. The Alliance will come seeking him; they will bring death to all until they find him.”

“So, what exactly are you saying, Fenellia, because I’m for tharking sure it’s not what I think it is.” Grokhaar snorted, sounding suspiciously like an angry bull. “Are you actually telling me that I should turn the lad over to the Alliance?”

“They’re offering a sizable reward for his safe return.”

“Are they now?”

Friday Friends

In The Other Half, you’ll meet a variety of characters from vampires and wolf shifters to elves and pixies. Of all the creatures on this plane and others, Michael and Urúvion are more than friends – they are brothers by choice. They have walked the worlds together for over two thousand years, sometimes together, sometimes apart, but always knowing that there was one upon whom they could trust with their lives and their secrets. For our Friday Friends post, you get to meet the King of Kedaunnor, the Arbiter, His Majesty Urúvion Lithsumé.

Urúvion Lithsumé – The Arbiter

Name: Urúvion Lithsumé
Age: 4158 years
Height: 5’ 11”
Weight: 175 lbs (79kg)
Eyes: Changing – Depending on the magic he is currently channeling, Urúvion’s eyes can range from the dark green of the deep forest, the pale blue of an ice floe, to the blood red of the darkest crimson. When he’s not actively manipulating magic, however, they are a pale blue.
Hair: Silvery-white
Title: King of Kedaunnor, the Arbiter, King of Kings

Biography:

Urúvion Lithsumé was born in the Fae Kingdom of Kedaunnor to Their Royal Majesties, King Eirdaran, and Queen Raina. As a child, Urúvion showed great talent for magic – gaining proficiency in each school with ease. By the time he was a mere seventy-five years of age, it was clear he could no longer advance under the teachings of even the best royal tutors. King Eirdaran petitioned his son to be tested, and as a result, he became the youngest elf admitted into the prestigious Malvarin Academy of Mystical Arts.

The young prince spent more than two thousand years at Malvarin, returning to Kedaunnor only for important celebrations or royal events: the Sixth Millennia Celebration of his father’s reign; the marriage of his younger brother, Randdur; and the birth of his sister, Talaima. He spent centuries perfecting one school of magic only to be drawn by another that he would then strive to master. He became adept at both altering existing spells as well as eschewing the necessary materials most needed. Many of the other students, and some professors, regarded him with awe. He would be the greatest shaman ever to pass through the Academy doors. But, though he enjoyed mastering his craft, he missed his family and his kingdom. Upon his graduation from the final school, the prince refused an offer to aid in magical research and returned home.

Unfortunately, Kedaunnor was no longer as calm and peaceful as it had once been. Shortly after Urúvion’s sister threw off the mantle of childhood, The Queen Matriarch of the neighboring kingdom of Voorhiven proposed uniting the two powerful nations by wedding her eldest son to the Kedaunnor princess. Eirdaran tentatively agreed with a few changes: he would allow the Prince court his daughter as he refused to wed her to a stranger, and the entire contract was null should she find her true mate. The Queen wasn’t happy with the changes but agreed; few found their mates within their first millennia. Once the two were wed and had produced an heir, neither the ruler of Voorhiven nor her son cared if the princess took a harem of lovers. Her plans were thwarted when Talaima found her soul’s mate in Duke Calaion, the ruler of the Duchy of Lidelaas, a small nation on the northern border of their lands. The couple were tested and the mating was true; the agreement was null.

After his sister’s wedding, Urúvion traveled to the human lands to perform a mating ceremony for Massena, an Ifrit Djinn Warlord. They spent many a day at the Academy causing as much mischief as they possibly could without getting expelled. The elf was overjoyed to hear that his friend had found his mate, and honored to be asked to aid in their mating ceremony. Fascinated with the human lands, the young elven prince spent over a hundred years exploring the world and learning the ways of its people. His days of mischief ended when he received an urgent summons to come home.

Voorhiven, furious at losing their chance at the Kedaunnor throne, demanded compensation for the broken agreement between their children. Though they had no legal foundation upon which to base their claim, they raised an army and threatened war. The only nations who backed the Queen Matriarch were those that bore personal or political grievances against the thriving nation. Meanwhile, the mage controlled city-state of Malvarin sided with Kedaunnor, as did Lidelaas. Others remained neutral.

The fighting began small, skirmishes to gauge strengths and weaknesses, and then all hell broke loose. Though Kedaunnor had magical might and strength of numbers over Voorhiven, the Queen Matriarch wasn’t bound by the rules of ethical combat or magical studies. She was a master of Death magic and used it freely and openly, much to the horror of her enemies and allies alike. If her men fell in battle, she raised them as mindless, shambling corpses or tormented ghosts – unleashing their thirst for vengeance upon all who stumbled across their paths.

In the face of such horror, Kedaunnor was forced into a controlled retreat.

Two hundred years into the war, an unexpected ally joined the besieged nation in the forms of the Ifrit Warlord, Massena, and his mate, Metucosa. Their son had retreated to the soothing flame of his primordial element following the death of his human wife, and they came seeking wisdom and assistance from their friend. What they found was a nation on the verge of succumbing to the evil forces of the Voorhiven Queen.

The djinni, along with a select force of Malvarin shaman, fought tirelessly to turn the tide of the war. As a First, Massena’s Ifrit power was beyond formidable and it had been enhanced by his magical teachings at the Academy. In less than a decade, their forces captured the Queen Matriarch, destroyed her undead army, and returned peace to the Fae Lands.

After the Queen’s trial and subsequent execution, King Eirdaran wished only for peace and abdicated his throne to his eldest son. The folk of Kedaunnor welcomed their savior as their king while the surrounding nations viewed him with suspicion. Conquering heroes tended to continue to conquer; however, Urúvion’s open and friendly manner, his unmatched magical skills, and shrewd political maneuvering soon put the others at ease. His skills were such that he took on the role, and then the title, of Arbiter – an honorary position few had held before him. None had ever been so young nor so successful. A time of peace and prosperity rose in the kingdom that touched all those surrounding it like the ripples on a lake.

When the humans began yet another war, this one with potentially catastrophic consequences, the fae nations sent their Arbiter to work with the other nonhumans towards a solution. Fascinated still by the human world, Urúvion agreed and never once regretted his decision.

Privately, however, his life wasn’t as fulfilling. He lost his closest friends, Massena and Metucosa, but found a greater one in their son, Micipsa. He wed a beautiful young dryad who blessed him with two healthy sons. Though she wasn’t his true mate, he loved her dearly and mourned her loss when she disappeared into the forest to merge with her parent tree. She returns from time to time to check on her children, but has abdicated her position as Kedaunnor’s Queen.

The final blow to his happiness and peace of mind was in the discovery of his true mate. The fae were an irreverent, joyful bunch, but in many ways, were quite traditional when it came to the royal family. Urúvion’s mate made his soul rejoice, brought him happiness he’d never before known, and challenged him to be a better king and elf, but didn’t fit into the accepted role of the King’s Consort. Having just found peace after a horrific war, the young king feared what such a revelation would do to his world; and so, with a heavy heart, he suppressed the mating pull and denied himself the other half of his soul.

The Giveaway is for one (1) $25 Amazon Gift Card, one (1) signed paperback copy of The Other Half, printed via CreateSpace in a 6×9 format, one (1) custom bookmark with the cover of the book on a charm, and a total of seven (7) ebooks of any format. I’m giving away one (1) ebook per day, based on comments in the daily posts. For the daily giveaways, I’ll use a random number generator and the comment with that number wins the ebook (I’ll contact you within a day or two).

I should be able to contact the winners for both the rafflecopter items and the ebook before noon Monday, US CST, July 15. This contest is open to all, so have fun.

The rules are simple: Sign in to Rafflecopter using the widget and…

Tweet about the contest
Follow me on Twitter
Like my author page on Facebook

For the daily ebook giveaway, read the question at the end of each post and comment your answer. It doesn’t have to be long, or even true, just show me you’re not a bot and all will be well If you haven’t commented before, it will go into moderation but I will NOT draw for a day until all comments are reviewed/approved.

Today’s question as we slide into the weekend – Name something that would compel you to give up your mate/spouse? Be serious. Be funny. I mean, I’d totally hand over my kid for a well made pecan pie XD

Thursday Threesome

Many who have read the alpha version of The Other Half will probably have noticed that several things were cut in the final version. The main thing removed was the relationship between the three vampires: Elizabeth Pierce, Johannes Hunsinger Pierce, and Francisco di Luca. Theirs is a unique relationship amongst the mated nonhumans, for Elizabeth and Johannes have taken a male lover to their beds to share and enjoy. This scene, deemed unnecessary to the polished and refined version of the book, landed firmly on the cutting room floor, but I bring it back for the contest. It occurs after the return of the children, while Francisco is still recovering from all that has happened. (This is unedited from the original, so please ignore errors.)

Elizabeth followed Johannes and Francisco into their room and locked the door behind them. Leaning back against it, she hungrily watched the two men that meant the world to her. Francisco claimed the shower, eager to get the blood and dirt and sweat of the last few days from his skin, while Johannes ordered wine and snacks from room service. Smiling evilly, Elizabeth waited until she could hear the water running before walking over to whisper in Johannes’ ear. Once the food and drinks had been delivered, the pair silently undressed and went to join their lover in the shower.

Wrapping her arms around her mate, Elizabeth held him back as they stared at the slightly blurred figure through the frosted shower door. Francisco had propped himself on one arm against the cool tiles and let the warm water flow over his bowed back. One hand covered his face as his shoulders shook with suppressed emotion. As silent as wraiths, the pair entered the shower and enveloped his slim frame.

Whispered words of love and pride were soon joined by tears as the tale poured from the newling vampire. Francisco spoke of the pain of the attack, his Hunger, his fear and the shame he felt at his fear. He told them of drinking from the guard, the agonizing death of the Shifter from the silver pellets, nearly losing his control over his bloodlust before drinking from the human girl, Alicia. And finally, he spoke of using the children themselves in their own escape and his shame of being unable to free them without putting them at risk. Elizabeth and Johannes let him speak, never once releasing him from their tender embrace or gentle caresses. When he had finished his tale, it was Elizabeth’s turn to speak.

She told him of her fears for him. She told him how scared she’d been that she’d failed him by not preparing him for the strength of the Hunger. She told him of fearing that he’d lose himself to the bloodlust because of her inexperience as a teacher and the Council would be forced to eliminate him as a threat. And then…she smiled and told him of how Johannes had found her in this same shower. How he’d teased her and tormented her and then took her hard against these very tiles. As her touch shifted from comforting to teasing, she told him in detail of what her mate had done to her and felt his body respond.

 

The Giveaway is for one (1) $25 Amazon Gift Card, one (1) signed paperback copy of The Other Half, printed via CreateSpace in a 6×9 format, one (1) custom bookmark with the cover of the book on a charm, and a total of seven (7) ebooks of any format. I’m giving away one (1) ebook per day, based on comments in the daily posts. For the daily giveaways, I’ll use a random number generator and the comment with that number wins the ebook (I’ll contact you within a day or two).

I should be able to contact the winners for both the rafflecopter items and the ebook before noon Monday, US CST, July 15. This contest is open to all, so have fun.

The rules are simple: Sign in to Rafflecopter using the widget and…

Tweet about the contest
Follow me on Twitter
Like my author page on Facebook

For the daily ebook giveaway, read the question at the end of each post and comment your answer. It doesn’t have to be long, or even true, just show me you’re not a bot and all will be well If you haven’t commented before, it will go into moderation but I will NOT draw for a day until all comments are reviewed/approved.

So, ménage… hot or not? What mixture of sexes makes or breaks a ménage for you? MMF, MFM, MFF, FMF, more?
Note – In this context, MMF means that there is sexual contact between the two men, from kisses, to caresses, to penetrative sex. MFM usually means there is little sexual contact between the men sharing the woman. The same is true of the reverse with multiple female partners.

Wicked Wednesday

Ah, Wednesday.. the middle of the week. Too far away from the weekend before to retain the warm glow, yet too far away from the one after to get excited. Wednesdays are full of meh, so I thought I’d bring in something that generated a bit of excitement to the day! Another snippet, albeit a small one, where things heat up and get a bit exciting between our two main characters, Kristiana and Michael.

The warm mocha color of his eyes had once more given way to fiery crimson, and Kris swore she saw actual flames dancing there. Even his skin heated until it was almost painful to the touch, reminding her of her erotic dream. Blushing, she traced the fullness of his lips with a tentative finger. Kris knew she was pushing his control. He had promised to go slow with her but she was no longer certain that was what she wanted any more.

His tongue darted out to lap at her teasing finger, heightening her arousal with memories of it dancing across her skin. If his lips and fingers were half as talented in the waking world as they had been in her dreams, she was ready to give in to her desire and damn the consequences. He nipped her finger, and drew it into his mouth, suckling it as his dream-self had her breasts. Her nipples hardened at the memory, and she stifled a moan. Staring at his tempting lips, she licked her own as if she could still taste him there.

With a groan, he captured her lips in a brutal kiss, forcing her mouth open to receive his needy tongue. He shifted her in his arms until Kris was facing him, her legs spread wide to enclose his. Their argument was forgotten, the Summit was forgotten, hell, the world was forgotten as his hot skin burned into hers everywhere they touched.

Like a brand, she felt the lingering heat of his hands as they abandoned the round globes of her ass to slide beneath her thin polo. Inch by inch, they moved upwards until they rested so close to her aching breasts that she whimpered in anticipation. She ground her pelvis against him, the hard bulge in his slacks exciting her to new heights of need. Kris chased his lips as he nibbled and teased her with brief, wet kisses. Tugging on his shirt, she had to touch more of him. The heat of his skin seared her palms as she pulled the shirt over his head. She wanted to taste him; needed it like she needed her next breath.

A light dusting of ebony curls covered the hard muscles of his chest, and she greedily stroked the hot skin beneath the soft hair. Scratching lightly with her short nails, Kris shivered at his lusty moan. She traced the light scrapes with her tongue, soothing the minor scratches as she got her first taste of this glorious man. He tasted like heaven on earth: salty, spicy, with a hint of something that reminded her of warm fireplaces in winter.

When she flicked her tongue over the hard bud of his nipple, his low growl shot pleasure straight to her core. Taking the small bit of flesh into her mouth and suckling gently, she thrilled when he gasped her name and ground her even closer to his rock-hard member. Somewhere in the back of her mind, something was telling her to slow down but she ruthlessly pushed it aside. For this moment, he was hers and she wasn’t letting him go.

Kris’ passion-filled senses didn’t notice her bra dissolving into ash; she only noticed the heat of his hand as it closed around her eager flesh. With a final nip to his taut nipple, she tangled her fingers into his thick ebony hair, and pulled his mouth to hers. She drew his tongue into her mouth, licking and sucking it in an obvious representation of oral worship. Michael responded to her aggression by pinching one pert nipple as he wrestled for control of their kiss.

Kris arched her back with a groan. Her dream hadn’t been anywhere near this potent. His kisses had her begging for more even as she gasped for breath. When his hand closed over her breast, her brain misfired until all she knew, all she wanted was to feel him touching her everywhere with those hot fingers.

His other hand encircled her lonely breast until both were kneading and pinching her sensitive buds. Michael dragged his lips from hers to blaze a fiery trail down the side of her neck, finding all those places that drove her insane with lust. Grinding against the impressive hardness that lay beneath his tight slacks, Kris yanked off her shirt, tossing it into some far corner. She cried his name when those lips closed over her nipple, giving her the first hint that reality would be far better than any dream.

His hands were everywhere – her breasts, her hair, her back – and then they were on her slacks, pushing the button through the hole and easing down the zipper. Michael didn’t try to remove them, but his fingers delved beneath the cloth to the trimmed curls beneath. With his mouth at her breast and his fingers brushing over her sex, Kris was on fire. Even her most skilled sexual partners had never created such raging lust, such need in her before.

The Giveaway is for one (1) $25 Amazon Gift Card, one (1) signed paperback copy of The Other Half, printed via CreateSpace in a 6×9 format, one (1) custom bookmark with the cover of the book on a charm, and a total of seven (7) ebooks of any format. I’m giving away one (1) ebook per day, based on comments in the daily posts. For the daily giveaways, I’ll use a random number generator and the comment with that number wins the ebook (I’ll contact you within a day or two).

I should be able to contact the winners for both the rafflecopter items and the ebook before noon Monday, US CST, July 15. This contest is open to all, so have fun.

The rules are simple: Sign in to Rafflecopter using the widget and…

Tweet about the contest
Follow me on Twitter
Like my author page on Facebook

For the daily ebook giveaway, read the question at the end of each post and comment your answer. It doesn’t have to be long, or even true, just show me you’re not a bot and all will be well If you haven’t commented before, it will go into moderation but I will NOT draw for a day until all comments are reviewed/approved.

Ladies, how would you feel if your lover incinerated your bra in a heat of passion? Thrilled? Angry?

Gentlemen, is this an ability you’d enjoy? Why or why not?

Teaser Tuesday

On the second day of the promotion merry-go-round, I offer you a small snippet of The Other Half. Krisitana has met the mysterious and compelling Head Ambassador, Michael Zakhara, and felt drawn to him against her will. He leaves her with a gentle kiss, which invades her dreams that night…

That night, Kris tossed and turned in her small, lonely bed. Zakhara had not returned in an hour. Or two. Or even three. Frustrated, disappointed, and unreasonably hurt, she had left him a note and returned to her apartment. That night, her dreams were filled with the ghostly images of those that had featured in what she considered her biggest failures. The faces were as featureless and insubstantial as mist and yet the eyes were the same as all the other nightmares she had before.

Brian’s playful and friendly blue eyes had made her believe in fairytales, before crushing every dream she had. Missy’s tormented and frightened ones rightly accused her of betrayal just before she descended into hysteria. The Colonel’s disapproving, condemning gaze never wavered when she had explained her reasons for leaving the HPL. For him, there was no grey area… it had always been ‘us versus them.’ Finally, there was Michael Zakhara. His mysterious amber-flecked brown eyes seemed to bore into her very soul… and root out her every flaw and failure.

She struggled to escape their mutual condemnation, but there was nowhere to run from her own memories or her own guilt. She had always blamed herself for what had happened to Missy. As one of the few humans who knew about the Others, she had known who and what Nick Forturo was. Naively, she had trusted in the mating pull, fully believing his claim even when his actions made her doubt the veracity of his statement.

After it was all over and she hadn’t been able to act as shocked as the rest, Missy had accused her of knowing something about Nick that would have explained his actions. What could she say in reply? It had been the truth. Now, her friend was paying for her silence and loyalty to the Others’ secrets.

Silence. Loyalty. Secrets.

Those words defined her relationship with the Colonel. It had once again been her knowledge of the other races that had caused her career to come to a shuddering halt. It had been the reason she had spent months in confinement while CID questioned where her loyalties lay. Weeks of being on trial for nothing more than knowing something they didn’t. She wasn’t sure how the Colonel managed the outcome but when she finally arrived home, she had less than what she had started with.

Her burgeoning career was over; she would never work in Intel after the accusations against her. She had been in the military for too brief a time to qualify for her GI Bill, so college was no longer an option. Her sister was wrapped up in her family and pack and couldn’t stay with her, and she refused to go to the compound and risk meeting Brian. When the Security Police arrested Colonel for the death of his wife, helping him gave her a purpose again.

She still believed in a lot of what he and his organization stood for but hearing him talk about the ‘mixed breeds’ – the children of Other-human unions – made her blood run cold. What he called abominations of nature were nothing more than children. Her sister’s pups fell into that category, and she refused to work for a company that believed in the destruction of such innocence for some vague good of humanity.

Then there was Michael Zakhara. She had known the man for less than twenty-four hours, and yet his opinion weighed far too heavily on her mind. She had thought Brian had been capable of hurting her, which he had with oblivious ease, but that had been before she met the mysterious creature who drew her in with a simple smile. Kris had never needed to actively work on maintaining her distance from the Others she met while on her job. The leopard shifter from six months ago had incited nothing but aggravation at his persistence, and yet Michael made her want to give in to him.

That terrified her.

His simplest touch made the blood rush through her veins before settling very uncomfortably in her breasts and beyond. His eyes were warm and expressive; the shifting, swirling fire in them mesmerizing. His lips begged to be kissed and when they had skimmed down her neck the night before in his hotel room, Kris thought she would melt under the chaste touch.

What would it be like to feel those lips on the other, more sensitive parts of her body? His hands were warm, too warm for a normal human, and could be firm yet gentle. Her dreams morphed and twisted, and she felt those strong hands trailing down her back to pull her close to his warm, muscular chest. Their clothing melted away, and she moaned at the contact of his hard, tanned skin against her soft pale body. Then, Michael’s lips descended on hers, and her mind melted beneath the sensual assault.

What followed was the most luridly detailed erotic dream she had ever had. His warm hands and even hotter tongue touched her in places that had her squirming on the sheets, and crying his name. Michael’s dream-self ghosted his lips across her ear as he faded into nothingness. His eyes – closer to fiery amber than his usual warm chocolate – were the last to disappear.

Punching the button on her alarm clock with more force than necessary, Kris darted nervous glances around the room as if expecting to find someone, anyone, there. The blankets were in disarray, proof that her night was either as bad as her fading dreams led her to believe, or as good as her shocking morning fantasies. Blushing furiously, she leapt from the bed and straightened the sheets and comforter before walking to the shower on shaky legs. Her body still thrummed with the feel of Michael’s hands and lips and it wanted more. Dear God, how she wanted more! How in the hell was she to work with him today after a dream like that?

 

The Giveaway is for one (1) $25 Amazon Gift Card, one (1) signed paperback copy of The Other Half, printed via CreateSpace in a 6×9 format, one (1) custom bookmark with the cover of the book on a charm, and a total of seven (7) ebooks of any format. I’m giving away one (1) ebook per day, based on comments in the daily posts. For the daily giveaways, I’ll use a random number generator and the comment with that number wins the ebook (I’ll contact you within a day or two).

I should be able to contact the winners for both the rafflecopter items and the ebook before noon Monday, US CST, July 15. This contest is open to all, so have fun.

The rules are simple: Sign in to Rafflecopter using the widget and…

Tweet about the contest
Follow me on Twitter
Like my author page on Facebook

For the daily ebook giveaway, read the question at the end of each post and comment your answer. It doesn’t have to be long, or even true, just show me you’re not a bot and all will be well If you haven’t commented before, it will go into moderation but I will NOT draw for a day until all comments are reviewed/approved.

So, comment time to win Tuesday’s free ebook! When was the last time you had a dream so real you woke up wanting more? Details are only necessary if you feel comfortable giving them.

Kick off to Giveaway Week!

This is an exciting month for me. The Other Half gets its first spotlights and blog reviews, and I’m undecided as to whether I am excited or terrified. I think it’s a fine mixture of both.

But all is not lost! Due to my excited terror (or terrified excitement), I’ve decided to offer promo pricing on Smashwords as well as a Giveaway! Both will run from the 8th through the 14th, encompassing the dates of the first of the events.

The promo price is available via a coupon code through Smashwords, because it offers all formats – mobi, pdf, epub, etc. This way, anyone interested in getting a copy of The Other Half may do so without worrying if it will work on their device.

Promo Price – $0.99 via Coupon Code: ZQ47D

The Giveaway is for one (1) $25 Amazon Gift Card, one (1) signed paperback copy of The Other Half, printed via CreateSpace in a 6×9 format, one (1) custom bookmark with the cover of the book on a charm, and a total of seven (7) ebooks of any format. I’m giving away one (1) ebook per day, based on comments in the daily posts. For the daily giveaways, I’ll use a random number generator and the comment with that number wins the ebook (I’ll contact you within a day or two).

I should be able to contact the winners for both the rafflecopter items and the ebook before noon Monday, US CST, July 15. This contest is open to all, so have fun.

The rules are simple: Sign in to Rafflecopter using the widget and…

Tweet about the contest
Follow me on Twitter
Like my author page on Facebook

For the daily ebook giveaway, read the question at the end of each post and comment your answer. It doesn’t have to be long, or even true, just show me you’re not a bot and all will be well If you haven’t commented before, it will go into moderation but I will NOT draw for a day until all comments are reviewed/approved.

Today’s question: What supernatural ability would scare you the most? What would excite you the most? Giving your reasons would be great!