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An Excerpt From: Pleasure
Quest
All Rights Reserved,
Ellora's Cave, Inc.
An Excerpt from Marilyn Lee’s The Quest 1:
Hunter’s Passion
Chapter One
Jemi Hunter
stood in the middle of the dilapidated shack, shivering. A cold, damp wind
whistled through the many holes in what was left of the walls of the only
building still standing in the whole so-called town. Coming here had been
just plain stupid, not to mention superstitious. This was a hell of a way
to spend Valentine’s Day: alone in a long abandoned mining town several
hours from home and the romantic evening her boss, Mark LeFarr, had wanted
to spend with her.
Used to
women falling over themselves for the chance to be showered with diamonds,
spend long weekends sailing on yachts in the New England harbor, and enjoying European vacations,
the middle-aged telecommunications multi-millionaire found her attitude
strange. Such delights were only enjoyable in the right company. The right
company was no longer available to her. She sighed; at least not
outside of her dreams.
Not that
she ever dreamed of Cody anymore. Her dreams lately had taken on
frightening and inexplicable dimensions. In them, she had a new lover whose
face was never revealed, because he always took her from behind. His huge,
hairy, bronze body brought her incredible pleasure and joy. When she woke
after one of those dreams, she always wished it could have gone on long
enough for her to turn and see the face of her dream lover.
This hardly
seemed the place to fulfill fantasies, but this was where the letter,
Cody’s letter, had instructed her to come. This was definitely not a good
idea—unless, of course, the letter really was from Cody.
Glancing
around the interior of the building, with its rotting floorboards and
broken parts of tables and chairs, she decided it had once been a
restaurant or a place where miners had spent their leisure time gambling or
whoring. Why would Cody want her here? More to the point, how could
Cody want her anywhere?
Five long,
lonely years had passed since the accident. She’d watched in helpless
desperation as Cody struggled to recover. In the end, the massive injuries
he’d sustained in a police pursuit gone wrong had taken their toll. She’d
lost him after just two short years of marriage. Before he lapsed into the
final coma, when he knew he wouldn’t survive, he had promised to find a way
to return to her. Now, according to the letters, he had.
Remembering
the anguish of losing him, she shivered again, her eyes filling with tears.
She had spent weeks sobbing uncontrollably, unable to fully accept the
condolences of Cody’s colleagues because she couldn’t accept that he was
lost to her forever. It had taken a full year before she could talk about
him without dissolving into helpless tears. Slowly, with the help of her
friends, she had moved on with her life. Then, just as she was on the verge
of deciding maybe her next-door neighbor, Jeff, could be more than a
part-time lover, the dreams had started. Shortly afterwards, the letters
began arriving.
She had
come home to find the first letter with no stamp or postmark in her mailbox
at the beginning of the previous November. On recognizing the writing, her
heart had begun to pound wildly. The letter had said simply: I miss you.
I’m working on a way for us to be together again. Get ready. After
that, a new letter had arrived each week. After each letter, she would
experience another of the dreams where her dream lover came to her. Before
long, she’d been living for the letters and had begun to embrace the
dreams. Two days earlier, the last letter arrived.
Her dream
lover had ravaged her all that night. She had lain in her bed, shuddering
with pleasure as he filled her with a huge, impossibly long cock and fucked
her into oblivion. She had clutched her pillow to her face to silence her
screams of pleasure when she came. When she opened her eyes, she’d screamed
at the sight of the face of her lover, who was definitely not human.
The next
morning she’d awaken, tired and shaken, unable to recall what her lover had
looked liked or why she’d screamed. As she ate breakfast, she had sat
staring at the two rose-like, long-stemmed flowers with purple petals and
red and green centers that had come with the letter. The letter had
instructed her to come to this place on Valentine’s Day and ended with the
promise:
The time
for us to be together again has arrived, Jemi. Our being together again
will require that you be very brave and trust that I would never ask you to
do anything that would cause irreparable harm. It will also require a great
sacrifice of you. If you long to be with me as I do with you, come to me here
on February 14th and we will enjoy a wonderful and exotic
Valentine’s Day that we can both cherish forever.
Cody,
who loves you still.
She opened
her long wool coat and looked down at the dark brown leather outfit she
wore. With its short skirt, halter-top, and long dark boots, she looked
like something out of a Hercules movie. She grimaced. Well, she would if
her thirty-six-year old body was more buxom and buff. She had let herself
go somewhat after Cody’s death. Well, hell. It was too late for regrets
that she hadn’t started working out more vigorously sooner. She’d have to
work with what she had.
She smiled. Cody had always loved her in short, tight leather outfits with
no panties. He hadn’t minded the fact that she had a slight tendency to be
overweight. He used to say he liked his woman to have a little meat on her
bones. When she’d complained that her butt was too big, he’d grin and tell
her it was perfect for clutching as he ate her. He would then proceed to
bury his face between her legs and give her the most delicious oral sex
she’d ever had.
She had
come here today, hoping that somehow Cody had found a way to be with her
again. She shook her head. That was crazy. Cody was dead. Long dead. She
was going to go home and go straight to Jeff’s apartment. They would spend
the night together and once and for all, she would put thoughts of Cody and
what they’d lost out of her mind and heart. And that went double for her
dream lover.
A loud crash
sounded behind her and she spun around. The wooden door hung open on one
hinge. In the fading light she saw a huge cat with the body of a beautiful
bronze panther but the dark golden mane of a lion crouched in the
threshold. And she knew why she’d screamed the night before.
Every
muscle in her body, including those in her throat, froze. She couldn’t
move. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t think of anything except the fact
that she was about to die.
Then,
without a sound, the big cat leapt at her. Her legs gave way and she
collapsed onto her back. In an instant, the animal straddled her body. The
big head lowered. She felt the hot breath on her face. Looking up into the
slanted green eyes, her throat muscles relaxed and she opened her mouth to
scream.
Jemi,
don’t be afraid. It’s me, Cody. Trust me, Jemi.
The words
were projected directly into her mind. This strange, huge cat could not be
her Cody. Yet, he felt familiar. He smelled familiar…he looked familiar…the
long, bronze body with the rippling muscles and the Hunter green eyes.
It’s me,
Jemi. Trust me.
“But…how?”
Trust me.
“Cody, I do
trust you. What should I do?”
Trust
me. I’m going to lay on you and cover you completely. It will be
frightening, but
when you awake, we will be together again in a special place.
Heart
thumping, she closed her eyes and held her breath as the big cat lay its
body on hers, covering her completely; suffocating her. When she opened her
mouth to scream, it was too late...
An Excerpt from Mary Winter’s Galaxy Rogues
1: Return from Exile
Chapter One
The
heavy weight of Ter’s arm pinned Rina to the bed. Turning her head, she
watched her lover sleep, his expression soft in repose. He lay on his side,
his arm flung across her abdomen, as if even in his sleep he wanted to keep
her by his side. Lightly, she brushed a strand of his thick coffee-colored
hair from his forehead. His thick lashes rested on his soft cheeks, and a
hint of new growth shadowed his jaw. Lieutenant Captain Terrastan
Ilykianoiselle slept deeply, exhausted by the war games and their sexual
escapades earlier in the day. She smiled to herself, knowing that rumors
flew about the major sleeping with the sexy, up-and-coming younger officer.
Still, that junior officer had the most talented lips she’d ever known.
Leaning over, she brushed her lips across his forehead.
She
gingerly slipped from the bed and donned a close-cropped shirt and sleek
trousers of a deep royal blue. Sliding her feet into house slippers, she
gave Ter one last look and stepped into the hallway. She closed the door
behind her.
Wall
sconces burned at nighttime levels, the low light enough to see by. Shadows
hugged the corners and doorways. She couldn’t get the conversation she’d
overheard out of her mind. Young Heir Androillellis Kardenasillianolos
spoke with a member of the Quintnyia, an elite assassin class.
Snippets of conversation had drifted to her. Phrases such as “father
wouldn’t know” and “I deserve to be emperor” that sent shivers down her
spine. She knew Yelexian politics were cutthroat. She didn’t get to her own
rank of major without learning that prime lesson, but to openly hear the
heir speak about killing his father… It made her stomach churn.
She
hovered in the shadows, trying to shake off that memory. Two days she had
mulled those words over in her mind, combining them with other rumors and
hints that flew through the Yelexian Military like long-range missiles.
Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. That’s why I’m out here. To clear
my mind.
Her
pussy ached from Ter’s lovemaking, and her nipples, sensitive, beaded
against the fabric of her shirt—for a moment, she longed to turn around and
slide back into bed with him. Ter would make me forget about the threats
to the emperor. She shook her head. I can’t take the easy way
out. It’s my job to keep the emperor safe from all threats, including those
from his son.
Rina
forced herself to start down the hall. Physical movement always helped her
to think. The thick walls of the palace muffled most sounds. Not even the
trill of a night bird floated through the doorways. Behind closed, heavy
doors, nobles and laymen alike slept. Rina licked her lips nervously.
The
hall forked ten paces ahead. Rina debated a moment, before deciding to take
the right-hand path down past the emperor’s apartments. A series of
holograms depicting the Concordance’s first contact with Yelexia lined the
walls. She enjoyed the subtle reminder of why she had joined the military.
To protect Yelexia from those who would exploit her. Of course, the Concordance
wouldn’t dream of exploiting the planet, not with the amount of troops it
sent to the coalition army.
The
hushed sounds of slippers sliding over stone drifted down the hall. Rina
darted into the shadows, not wanting to be seen. If the emperor were
returning from a late night liaison, she didn’t want to know. The scuffing
sound neared, and she peered down the hall in the direction from which
she’d come. A shadow moved towards her.
Her
heart pounded. To her trained ears the cadence of the steps sounded wrong.
Had it been the emperor returning, he would have walked casually, not tried
to slink like a bottom-feeder. No, whoever walked down the hall was trying,
in an untrained way, to slip into the emperor’s wing.
There
should have been guards posted. There weren’t. Emperor Kardenasillianolos
had them all dismissed from his chambers a cycle ago, citing that his
grounds were secure enough. Rina had heard rumors that it was so he
wouldn’t be seen returning from his frequent trysts. She scowled.
She pressed
herself deeper into the shadow. The emperor might be waiting for the person
she now heard scuttling through the hall, and she didn’t want to catch the
eye of the emperor. As a major, she spent enough time in his company, and
he’d made it clear what she could do for her country.
Shallow
breathing echoed down the corridor. The intruder—she had no illusions that
it was anything but—came nearly even with her. Even in the low light, the
flash of metal caught her eye. Instinct took over.
She
swung from the alcove, grabbing the possible assailant by the collar. His
muffled grunt filled the corridor. Slamming him against the wall, she
quickly grabbed the weapon and tossed it aside.
“What
are you doing here?” she growled. The clatter of the pistol sliding over
the stone floor of the palace sounded obscenely loud.
“Ungh!”
The man grunted as she ground her knee into the back of his leg. The man,
taller than she by only a few inches, stood dumbfounded.
Rina
grabbed his wrists. She pressed them into the wall. “What are you
doing here?” She made no attempt to keep her voice down. Somewhere in the
distance, the sound of a door opening filled the hallway.
“I live
here! I’m coming back to my rooms.” The man tossed his head, sending the
hood of his cape falling away, revealing his face. Looking over her
shoulder, he glared at her. The pinched nose and long, almost feminine hair
gave him away as the emperor’s son.
“With a
gun?” She glared at the weapon lying on the floor. The unmistakable sounds
of footsteps filled the air.
“It’s
not mine!”
Rina
transferred his hands into one of hers and slammed his face against the
wall. “The hell it isn’t.”
“I
didn’t see you.”
“I was
admiring the holographs. I couldn’t sleep. What’s your excuse?” The partial
lie slid easily off her tongue.
“I…well…”
The young heir never did lie well.
“What
is the meaning of this?” Emperor Kardenasillianolos bellowed.
Rina
turned to stare at him. He wore a robe hastily belted over his
nightclothes, his feet bare.
“Your
Highness.” She bowed her head as best as she was able. “I found the heir
walking towards your apartments. He had a weapon and acted secretive. I did
my royal duty in preventing harm to you.” She spoke formally.
“And
what were you doing near my apartments, Major Corvalano?” The emperor stepped
forward. “Did you come to discuss strategy?”
Rina
forced herself not to swallow hard against the revulsion that turned her
stomach. “I couldn’t sleep, Your Highness. I have always found the
holographs along this hallway soothing.”
“I
could show you my holographs sometime.” His husky voice slid over her like
a slimy caress.
Rina
forced herself not to punch the emperor’s nose.
The
heir struggled to free his hands. “Father, I meant no harm.”
“Really?”
The emperor bent and picked up a small laser pistol that lay at his feet.
“Then this isn’t yours?” He arched an eyebrow.
“No,
Father, it—”
The
emperor raised his hand for silence. “Don’t lie to me. I know your
intentions.” He turned to Rina. “While in private I can thank you for this,
you know I have to call the High Council tomorrow. Rumors are one thing,
but I will not have my son accused of treason.”
Cold
ice filled Rina’s veins. I’ve just saved his damn life. Fuck public
opinion. She brushed the blunt thoughts away and recalled her station. I’m
a major in the army. He can’t do anything to me. Why call the council at
all? This could just be swept under the rug if he wanted. She didn’t
dare voice such thoughts to the emperor, not in such a way that wouldn’t be
insubordination.
“I
can’t ignore that this happened. You’re a fine officer, Rina. I’d hate to
lose you, but it’s all in the council’s hands.” He turned to his son. “As
for you, this will also make the council aware of your actions. You’ll have
plenty of years to rule once I die of natural causes. Until then,
behave. I could always send you off-world, you know.”
The
heir grimaced.
“You
can release him now, Major. Thank you.” Without waiting for an answer, he
turned and walked back down the hall.
Reluctantly,
Rina let go of the heir. She noticed the emperor had taken the pistol with
him, and she knew she could easily best the heir in a fistfight.
“Stupid
bitch,” he growled. “You’ll pay for this. I’ll see to it.”
Rina
ignored his comments. She certainly couldn’t sleep now but knew she’d
better get back to the room she shared with Ter. Tomorrow would come soon
enough without her to worry about what might be. The council would decide
what they would decide, and the emperor had to abide by the decision,
whether he liked it or not...
An Excerpt from Christine Warren’s The
Offering
Chapter One
“I didn’t mean
to hurt him,” Eve Cartwright repeated for the hundredth time in half as
many minutes. She kept her face impassive as she stood before the tribunal
of Protectorate judges, but inside she was thinking how in another three
questions she’d be wanting to hurt him all over again. Just to vent some of
this frustration.
“It doesn’t
matter if she meant to or not,” the “he” in question snarled. “The fact
remains that Major Cartwright seriously injured another member of the
Protectorate Security Force during a routine training exercise. She’s a
menace, and she damned well doesn’t belong in an elite unit like the
Investigations Bureau.”
Eve glanced over
at her accuser and stifled a snort. Captain Jon Hench cradled his formerly
broken wrist like a baby bird, even though the regenerators had already
knitted the seven fractured bones back together. It would be sore for a
while yet, but it wasn’t like the whiner sported any of the more permanent
damage Eve had longed to inflict.
“If I may point
out, Your Honors,” she said, her tone firm and steady and betraying neither
her contempt for Hench, nor her dislike for having to explain her actions
to the judges. Call her crazy, but she didn’t enjoy being treated as if she
were a criminal instead of a Detective Major in the PSF that had ordered
said training exercise. “Captain Hench may be a member of the Security
Force, but in this exercise, he was playing the part of a rebel squad
leader who had taken a Vice-Protectorate as hostage. I reacted precisely as
the situation would have warranted had this exercise been an actual
maneuver. When my opponent began to struggle, I applied due force, and when
he threatened me with a weapon—which is prohibited under the rules of the
exercise—I increased the force to mete an appropriate response.”
The judge on the
left of the bench sent her a piercing glare. “You believe breaking a fellow
officer’s wrist constituted an ‘appropriate’ response?”
Eve gave a curt
nod. “Within the context of the exercise, he was not a fellow officer. He
was a rebel soldier with a p-force stunner and a hostage.” And he
grabbed my tits when I pinned him to the deck of the holochamber, she
added silently. “I stand by my actions, and believe I would do nothing
differently if given the opportunity.” Except next time, I’d step on his
balls, too, and grind them into porridge.
“You see!” Hench
shouted, rising from his seat and looking ridiculous with his arm pinned to
his chest. “She has no remorse! She could have killed me, and she’d
probably show as little reaction as she does now.”
Not true. If
I’d killed you, I’d be doing my happy dance.
High Judge Loret shifted in his center seat and frowned.
“Please, Captain, refrain from these outbursts during our proceedings. You
had your opportunity to present your accusations, and the defendant must be
allowed equal time to offer her explanations.” He nodded to Eve.
She shrugged.
“I’ve told you what happened. I acted in accordance with my training and
with the circumstances of the exercise. It is regrettable that Captain
Hench sustained an injury, but I stand by my actions. If Your Honors
believe I should be disciplined, I will abide by your judgment, but I will
continue to say that I acted in the right.”
“We find your
lack of remorse somewhat troubling, Major. Likewise your service record
concerns us.” Loret glanced down at his terminal, frown deepening. “There
seems to be a pattern of increasing disregard for rules and authority here
over the last six months. Would you care to comment on this?”
The question
didn’t surprise her, just stiffened her spine. “No, sir.”
“Major
Cartwright, we must confess we are baffled by your attitude. You entered
the Security Force on the first day of your eligibility and served with an
unblemished record for ten years. Every one of your superiors had nothing
but praise for you. Until August of last year. From that date, your record
is full of minor infractions and disciplinary notices. Have you no
explanation for any of it?”
“My response to
each charge is noted in my record, sir.”
Eyes fixed
straight ahead, she stood at attention in the center of the chamber, still
in her dirty, sweat-stained camouflage uniform. Her spine stayed rigid as a
pole, even though the itch just below her left shoulder blade threatened to
drive her crazy. Discipline had carried her through her training and then
through the ranks of the Security Force almost as fast as graft or bribery
would have, so she wasn’t about to abandon it now. She gazed at the
Protectorate seal that decorated the wall behind the judges while they
conferred on their decision. She didn’t hold out much hope for a positive
outcome.
It would have
been easier, she reflected, to just shoot herself in a vital organ with a
stunner set on max, than to destroy her Security Force career through the
long, drawn out method she’d been using. Political suicide might be just as
effective as a stun pulse to the heart, but it took a hell of a lot longer.
Six months and counting.
Before August,
Eve had been in her glory—deep undercover completing an assignment to flush
out a group of rebellion terrorists from an arms market on Hanta Prime.
Unfortunately for her career aspirations, her commanding officer had seen
fit to order her to lead her men straight into a trap a green cadet could
have seen coming from fifty quarks. Naturally, she had refused to obey the
order. Naturally, General Mokollik had threatened her with court martial,
and naturally, she had called him an irresponsible, brain-dead son of a
bitch. The next step in the natural order of things had involved the ambush
being revealed—followed by a few really tense hours in close contact with
the rebels—the General being reprimanded and Eve’s name going onto the
great galactic shit-list maintained by the Protectorate’s powers that be.
In the six
months since the incident, Eve had been twiddling her thumbs and wasting
her time doing none of the work she’d been trained for. Instead of working
undercover in the camps of the Protectorate’s numerous enemies, gathering
vital information and doing some bloody good, she’d been babysitting
ambassadors, serving as a glorified courier and training in exercises she’d
completed one-handed before she’d ever left the Security Force’s Investigator
Training Program. Right about now, she was bored, bitter and bitchy, so she
cut herself some slack for not bowing down and kissing the judges’ feet in
abject regret.
The fact that
she’d never been good at kissing either feet or asses had a lot to do with
her standing here in front of the tribunal, actually. If she just bothered
to pucker up once in a while, their response to Hench’s injury would have
been less like a trial and more like hearty congratulations. The captain
had been emotionally and sexually harassing women on and off the Force as
long as anyone could remember, and Eve was hardly the first to attract the
sort of attention that had earned him his broken wrist. She didn’t think
her average-height, average-weight, average-coloring looks deserved that
sort of attention. True, her job kept her body lithe and strong with slim,
graceful muscles, but the man saw firm female forms every day of the week.
Hers shouldn’t have attracted undue attention.
Then again, she
reflected to herself, from what she could tell, the only thing a woman
needed for Hench to want to harass her seemed to be a pulse. Which was a
pity, because if he’d confined himself to hitting on women lacking that
particular attribute, he might have received a warmer reception than seven
newly fractured carpal bones.
Stifling a sigh,
she resisted the urge to shift her weight onto one foot while the judges
continued to whisper behind the protective sound barrier above the bench.
The Powers knew how long it would be before they reached their decision, or
what the decision would be. Whatever it was, Eve just wanted it reached
soon so she could get a shower, a change of clothes and a hot meal. She
wasn’t even particular about whether she got them in her own barracks or in
the PSF officer’s detention center. A night in the pokey would be worth the
satisfaction of hearing those seven little snaps and seeing Hench’s face
blanch the color of week-old porridge.
She started to
entertain herself by imagining giving the captain seven matching fractures
on his other wrist when the sound barrier dropped and the tribunal turned
on her once again.
“Major
Cartwright,” Loret said, “It is our duty to weigh every fact at our
disposal in order to decide on a proper judgment in your case. Your lack of
willingness to speak in defense of your record leaves us to rely on the
testimony of your accuser and the notes in your jacket, and we hardly need
to tell you that the most recent entries are far from flattering. You were
warned where such continued disregard for regulations and authorities would
lead.”
Straight to hell, she
thought. So it’s a good thing I prepaid my ticket, right?
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