Genre: erotic scifi/ fantasy
Publisher: Cari Silverwood
Date of Publication: July 28th, 2015
Number of pages: 156
Word Count: 77,000
Cover Artist: Cari Silverwood
Our Earth is on the edge of destruction, our cities are pocked with missile craters, and beneath the surface the alien factory queen lurks.
Four women of power may be our saviors. The last is Talia. Gifted by earth magic with a mastery of edged weapons, she’s a katana-wielding, geek chick with a loathing of alpha men. Although mating enhances magic, she knows bonding with aliens must surely be wrong. Besides, her destined bond mate, Brask, is an Igrakk warrior of the caveman persuasion. One dominant male is bad enough. Dassenze, the alien man-god in the flesh, also desires her and no isn’t a word he appreciates.
As they near their target, Talia’s man problems become the lesser of many evils, for the factory queen awaits them with her nerve chewers and her drills. The price for being avenging, kickass heroines could be a messy death.
Warning: Dominance and submission themes, hot aliens, and violence. Mild horror too if you’re squeamish.
The rhythm of the fight sang to her muscles and her mind. Brask went down to her blade, once, twice. They commenced again. The clunk and clang echoed in the room. Outside was pure darkness due to the window reflecting back the faint light Dassenze possessed. She parried and leapt backward, ready to return.
“Stop!” Dassenze cried. “Let’s try this instead. Catch.”
Brask caught the flung object and sent his sword skidding along the table toward Dassenze. The object was small and pistol shaped. He held it up for her to see. “This simulates a handgun, Talia.”
“Yes. I can tell if it hits you. It emits intermittent bursts of green light. I want to see if you can avoid being shot before reaching Brask. It’s dark. You’re tired. I can see you’re slowing down.”
“Okay.” He didn’t miss much. She was tiring but so was Brask. She let her gaze calibrate the hard curves of his arms and the sheen of sweat on his chest and abdomen. These Igrakk aliens didn’t differ much at all from humans.
“Like what you see?” With his thumb, Brask flicked something on the pistol. A green dot blinked on the floor in front of him.
“I was simply comparing your anatomy to that of humans.”
“And? What did you decide?”
The angle of his eyebrow and timbre of his voice fascinated her. Anatomy sounded clinical and her reaction was definitely not that. Something about having to look up at him, even from across the room, triggered an oh yum response. Next she’d be asking for his autograph.
She untangled her thoughts and searched for a witty reply. It didn’t arrive in time and for once honesty came first.
“That you look very similar to a man.” She cleared her throat. “In your musculature. I’ve studied anatomy before getting my forensic pathology degree.”
“Does that surprise you?”
Dassenze chipped in. “Throughout the universe, all intelligent life, excluding our enemies the Bak-lal, are mammals and compatible enough to mate and produce viable offspring.”
His words died away. The room was quiet. She was alone with them and they all knew what the other was thinking. Reproduction. Sex. Only her thoughts had gone precisely, unerringly, to the dirtiest possible arrangement with the two of them fucking her at once.
Abort that thought. Shit, damn, and crap. Stop thinking dirty.
The heat of a blush arrived. Then she wondered if those specifications included the Ascend who were supposed to be gods. She wasn’t going to ask.
“In case you’re wondering, we Ascend don’t quite fit into that system.”
Could he mind read?
“We can mate but not have offspring. There have been no new Ascend for several hundred years.
That was sad. Her eyes fixed on Dassenze. “How old are you?” Could a god have an age?
“I’m very old.” His smile was barely there. “Now we’ve settled that. Begin. Get from where you are to Dassenze without being hit. Begin when this pen hits the floor.” He held his closed fist at his knee’s height.
The pen fell, tumbling.
Her flight was a rapid parabola curving to wall and back in, with a somersault and a spin to confuse his aim. The force when she hit him surprised even her and he thunked backward with her on top of him and the sword point diving toward his neck with her full weight behind it.
At the last microsecond, Brask batted it away. The sword flew sideways and stuck into the upholstery of a chair, yards away to the side.
A second later, it was back in her hand. Gaping, still straddling Brask’s stomach, she stared at the blade. How?
Then he hauled her down and kissed her.
The impact went through her like a flight of slow motion doves. Bliss. Everything shut down except an awareness of him beneath her and his lips on hers. His hand was at the back of her head and he threaded his fingers through her hair, gathering more in his fist to pull her even closer. To keep her still.
But she wasn’t going anywhere.
The kiss lasted forever, or it seemed so. While they kissed she lived only that moment, the press on her skin, the heat, the parting to allow his tongue inside her. When his lips left hers she was struck by the loss. She kept her eyes shut, reliving what had happened even though his breathing was still so close, inches away, warming her face.
And as he breathed, she rose and fell. Her thighs were spread. She was vulnerable, despite her position above.
She opened her eyes.
He looked up at her, smiling, with his fingers still tight in her hair, pulling on her scalp.
Any minute, he would fling her down and roll her over, pull down her tights and fuck her.
Her resistance had vanished. He could rip a hole in her tights and do her sitting here. She drew her lower lip between her teeth, on the edge of leaning down and whispering it to his ear.
About the Author:
Cari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of BDSM stories and dark erotic fiction.
Cari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling writer of kinky darkness or sometimes of dark kinkiness, depending on her moods and the amount of time she’s spent staring into the night. She has an ornery nature as well as a lethal curiosity that makes her want to upend plots and see what falls out when you shake them.
When others are writing bad men doing bad things, you may find her writing good men who accidentally on purpose fall into the abyss and come out with their morals twisted in knots.
This might be because she comes from the land down under, Australia, or it could be her excessive consumption of wine.
Freaking out readers is her first love and her second love is freaking out the people living in her books. Her favorite hobby is convincing people she has a basement…though she really doesn’t. Promise.
If it existed it would be a terrifying place where you would find all the dangerous things that you never knew you craved.
To join Cari Silverwood’s MAILING LIST and keep up to date with her upcoming books go to:
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2 packs of ebook copies of the first two books in the series.
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