By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Ellora’s Cave
For months, the mysterious Ary has been teasing Storm with sexy tales of aliens. The intrepid reporter arrives in Moonbeam to investigate the story, and within hours of meeting the aristocratic Ary, Storm sees, feels and tastes his hard, vibrating proof. She’ll do anything to keep her source happy, including voyaging to the ends of the known universes to nail an exclusive.
Ary, a ruling prince of Sila, prides himself on being cool and unattached. Storm’s constantly moving mouth tests that resolve. Under her enticing touch, Ary’s primitive passions erupt, releasing his inner beast, freeing him from the restraints of tradition.
Not all Silans are happy their ruler has a mate and the enemy is poised, ready to attack. The last story Storm covers could be her own.
“This Moonbeam place is in the middle of nowhere.” Howard, the television station’s most experienced cameraman, hunched over the steering wheel and peered through the bug-splattered windshield, the van’s headlights illuminating the lonely stretch of highway. Tall pine trees lined the pavement, their fresh scent mixing with the aroma of coffee. Stars sparkled above them, a vivid reminder that they might not be alone in the universe, a theory Storm would soon confirm.
“What are you going to do if your source doesn’t show?” Howard’s wrinkled face twisted into a scowl.
“My source will show,” Storm assured her overprotective friend. “He was scheduled to arrive in Moonbeam a week ago last Friday.” She glanced at the tiny screen of her handheld. Still no messages. “Don’t worry.”
“I have to worry because you’ve taken no precautions. Meeting with a strange man in a strange place.” He clucked his tongue. “Not everyone is your friend, Storm.”
“No one is my friend.” She recited her new mantra, undeterred by Howard’s worrying, an investigative reporter’s job to venture where others feared to tread. “I’m cool, calm and detached.”
“Right.” The older man snorted. “Who are you trying to be—Brenda?”
Storm’s face heated. “She did land the fulltime position with that attitude. Or it could have been her perfect blonde hair or her extensive coverage of the war in the Middle East that did it.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, a nasty habit she had been unable to break. “I need a war.”
“You’d cry over every death.” Howard reached over and patted her hand, his comment unfortunately true, her sympathy serving as a liability in the news business. “If your source has spent the last two weeks and a day in Moonbeam, why hasn’t he emailed you? How well do you know this guy?”
“Well enough.” She shrugged, unwilling to admit her fascination with the mysterious Arystokrata Nazwisko extended past the potentially groundbreaking story. “We’ve been in contact online for months. He claims communicating close to the rendezvous date is a security risk.” She sighed softly, missing their correspondence, Ary’s detailed stories of exotic alien worlds the highlight of her day.
Storm stared out the window at the night sky. Win says his stories are plausible and she’s the best astrobiologist I know. A meteor shot across the blackness. Is there truly life out there?
“Security risk? You’re meeting in Moonbeam, the Roswell of the North.” Howard tugged at his thin gray ponytail. “If he was so concerned about security, you’d think he would put more thought into the location.”
“Who says he didn’t? It’s the perfect site if he wants this initial encounter kept off the record,” Storm guessed, not knowing Ary’s reasoning. They exited Highway 11 and she leaned forward. The small town appeared dark and deserted, the ideal backdrop for a midnight exchange of top-secret information. “No one would believe he met with me here.” Especially with proof aliens exist.
It would be proof only she’d have access to, Ary promising her exclusivity. Storm’s lips curled upward as she envisioned her gracious acceptance of the News And Documentary Emmy Award, her proud journalism professors and jealous rivals standing in the audience, clapping enthusiastically and murmuring about how she broadened their horizons, making a difference in the world.
“Your source is right about no one believing you.” Howard interrupted her reverie. “It’s hard to take a town known for aliens seriously.” The van rolled to a stop in front of the town’s landmark, an illuminated, silver nine-foot-tall model of a UFO. “What did I tell you?” He waved his hand at the empty space. “There’s not one car in the parking lot.”
“He’ll show,” Storm repeated, trusting Ary to keep his word.
“And when he does, I’ll be here to film your meeting.” Howard unbuckled his seatbelt. “I’m not leaving you in the dark alone.”
“You’re leaving me because the station will have your ass if you stay. Freelancers aren’t assigned cameramen, you know that.” Storm summoned a smile, irked by her lowly status. “And you have a forest fire you need to film.”
“The forest fire can wait,” Howard groused.
“No, it can’t. Don’t blow this opportunity for me.” She wagged her index finger at him. “I need this. I don’t want to be covering human interest stories forever.”
“You like human-interest stories.”
“I want to make a difference.” Storm pleaded for her friend to understand, needing to do this, to prove she was a great reporter. Howard opened his mouth and she rushed to clarify. “A big difference. That’s my dream, my destiny, what I know I’m meant to do.”
Howard sighed. “Who am I to hold you back from your dreams?”
“Thank you.” She opened the door and hopped down, her sturdy military boots crunching on the gravel surface. “I’ll be begging you for editing assistance on this story.” Storm swung her heavy backpack over one of her shoulders. “Consider yourself warned.”
“You do that.” Howard shook his head, chuckling. “And call me if you need help. Remember—”
“We cover the news, we don’t make it,” Storm recited and she laughed, closing the door with a solid thud. “Now get going before you scare my source.”
Howard waved as he drove away, a smile on his weathered face. Storm watched the dented cube van until it faded from view. A peculiar clicking noise filled the night air.
“I’ll filter that out of the audio afterward,” she noted. “Don’t let it bother you, Storm. Be professional, unemotional.” She checked the time on the handheld. She was six minutes early. “Audio.” Storm flicked the recording feature on and the handheld beeped. “Check.”
She walked to the flying saucer and stood directly underneath it, as instructed. “I’m in position.” She plunked her backpack down and scanned her surroundings. The landmark was isolated from the rest of the town, with no houses built nearby. Shadows stretched across the freshly mowed grass, providing plenty of places for her contact, Arystokrata Nazwisko, to hide.
I trust him. Storm rolled her shoulders back, her joints cracking. He didn’t spend months sending me hundreds of messages simply to lure me to a remote northern town and kill me.
She extracted her compact from the backpack and primped, pushing back wayward strands of red hair, her short curls never falling perfectly in place as Brenda’s longer, light-catching golden tendrils did. Storm grimaced, her untamable hair adding more stress to an already stressful situation.
“Not that I have video.” She twisted her lips. “I should have asked for permission to record video.” An unusually large meteor flashed across the midnight sky. “Brenda would have asked for permission.” Storm tucked the compact away and wiped her moist palms on her khaki cargo pants. The annoying clicking noise increased in volume.
“Storm Mackenzie?” The voice was male and disappointingly nasally, Storm expecting Ary’s voice to be deeper and sexier. A shadow separated from the others.
She narrowed her eyes, peering into the darkness, the silhouette strange, almost insect-like. “I’m Storm Mackenzie. Is that you, Arystokrata Nazwisko?” She was proud of how the difficult name fluidly flowed off her tongue, having practiced the pronunciation for hours.
“No.” He stepped into the light and she gasped. The man…creature resembled a giant red ant, guns unlike any she’d ever seen clasped in his four hands.
Don’t run. Storm’s flesh crawled and her heart beat frantically in her chest. Great reporters don’t run. She inhaled, counted to five and exhaled.
It’s a story. It isn’t real. Film the story. Storm fumbled with her handheld, found the video function, and activated it, positioning the camera to frame the ant man. An ant man. She trembled with excitement and fear. “W-w-who are you and what do you want?”
“I am a Mravenec warrior. I want you, Storm Mackenzie, mate of Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko, and I want revenge upon all of Sila.” He pointed one of the guns at her feet and tapped a button. Red electricity flared from the muzzle and snapped toward her.
“Shit.” She jumped backward. The energy curled around her ankles, binding them together. She stumbled and toppled over, landing with a thump on her ass, the grass cushioning her fall, her handheld remaining in her hands.
“I’ve been captured.” Storm’s voice wavered, her fear audible and unprofessional. Be cold, calm and detached. “The electricity doesn’t hurt.” Do your job. Report on the news. “I feel numb.” She wiggled her toes within her boots. “I can’t break the bond. It must be some sort of super strong alien technology.”
The giant ant man approached, his antennae twitching and his jaws clicking as they snapped open and shut. “He’s coming for me.” Storm wiggled away from him, seeing no kindness reflected in his forbidding insect face and having no desire for a posthumous Emmy Award.
“You’re mistaken, Mr. Warrior,” she called to him. “I’m not Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko’s mate. He’s my source.” The ant’s expression remained blank. “He’s my contact and that’s all,” she explained, frantic to stop him. “We haven’t even met, not in person, so if you’re thinking to trade me or hold me for ransom, he won’t negotiate, not for me.” The ant pointed a larger, more deadly looking gun at her head, and a trickle of perspiration slid down her spine. “I’m nothing to him.”
“You are everything to me, my Storm,” a stranger yelled, his inhumanly deep voice rumbling through her body.
A flaming fireball slammed into the giant ant and flung him to the side, severing one of his arms, the limb twitching on the lawn. An even larger creature darted toward her, teeny tiny guns clutched in his big hands. The newcomer’s skin glimmered with two colors of green, ridges cascaded down his bald skull, and every inch of him rippled with muscles.
“This is what an alien should look like.”
Buy Now: http://www.ellorascave.com/exposed-by-moonbeam.html
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Ellora’s Cave
When Officer Danielle smacks a hunky alien with her police cruiser, she suspects her black-and-green perp is up to no good…and that turns her on. She shoots him. He grins. She hunts him down. He captures her, seducing her on a bed of pine needles. She’s never felt so alive.Krol knows a frail human female won’t satisfy his primal sexual urges, but he’s willing to make that sacrifice to ensure the continuation of his species. Then Danielle attempts to terminate him, and he realizes Earth women aren’t as dainty as they appear. Her lust may be a match for his basest needs, after all.
“Officer Clark,” Danielle murmured into the handset. She dimmed the headlights and slowed the police cruiser, inching the vehicle quietly along the gravel road.
“10-20, Officer Danielle?” Her friend and fellow officer asked her location.
“Moonbeam Side Road.” Street address of one highly suspicious manwhore. She hunched over the steering wheel, staring into the darkness with grim determination. No more women will disappear on my watch.
“Officer Danielle…” She heard the refusal in Clark’s voice.
“I know he’s up to something, Officer,” Danielle insisted. “As I knew your perp had a weapon,” she not-so-subtly reminded him.
“10-4, Officer Danielle.” Clark sighed, the radio crackling with static. “This makes us even. 10-18.”
He doesn’t believe me. No one does. She slammed the handset back into place. Yet all of the signs point to foul play.
A good soldier listens to her gut, her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. Danielle slid her right hand over her police uniform, fingering the reassuring outline of her dog tags.
A good soldier never cries. She whacked the window controls with her fist. Fresh air poured inside the vehicle, the night breeze cool and scented with pine needles, and her melancholy retreated.
Danielle stuck her head out the window and gazed up at the stars. One star, glowing as bright as the full moon, moved farther away from her.
Moved? She frowned. How—
The cruiser shuddered and she turned her head in time to see a large black-and-green object hit the windshield. The entity cracked the supposedly uncrackable glass, a spider web of fragments spanning out from the center of impact, and it rolled over the hood, leaving a trail of dents.
“Stay still.” She grabbed the first-aid kit stashed in the door pocket. “And remain calm.” Her heart pounded painfully as she dashed around the hood of the car, rock fragments crunching under her sturdy police boots. “I’m a police officer. I’ve been trained to deal with these situations.” Danielle stopped. Temporarily blinded by the headlights, she couldn’t see anything.
“Lejno.” The mumbled word originated from the brightness and she breathed a sigh of relief. He lives.
With a rumbling groan, the owner of the deep, sexy voice staggered to his feet. He rolled back his green-and-black shoulders, his joints popping in a barrage of rapid-fire cracks. Danielle’s mouth dropped open and the first-aid kit fell with a thump onto the gravel road. Every inch of her accident victim was green or black.
He loomed over her, his huge, colorful body covered with ridges from the top of his bald skull down to the waistband of his black leather outfit. She tilted her head back to meet his swirling gaze.
“You’re not human.” Her fingers shook as she fumbled for her gun. “At least, not like any human I’ve ever seen. What are you?”
“I am Warrior Krol Nowak.” He extended his hands. Long silver blades protruded from his wrist armor.
Danger. Danielle stepped back, fear twisting her stomach. “Don’t move, Warrior Krol.” She raised her gun and aimed it between his constantly moving eyes. “And put your arms in the air.”
His forehead ridges rattled as they condensed. “Your two commands are incompatible, druzka.” He stalked toward her, his form large and menacing.
Sweat trickled down Danielle’s neck. Space guns were strapped to his muscular torso and daggers decorated his tight leather pants. She held a simple service revolver. “I repeat. Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.”
Krol grinned, displaying teeth too sharp and pointed to be human. “You are a warrior, my Danielle. I am the best warrior.”
She swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear. “How do you know my—”
He sprang toward her, his movements blurring, and Danielle reacted on instinct, pulling the trigger. The bullet ricocheted off his knee ridge, the deafening sound followed by an animalistic howl. Krol twisted the gun from her hands, took three steps to the right and lobbed it with inhuman strength deep into the brush.
“I shot you.” Confused, Danielle glared at his leg. Red blood trickled down it, yet he remained standing. “I shot you.”
“Yes.” Krol retracted his wrist blades as he strode back to her. Gravel crunched under his big boots. “I am enjoying our courting.”
“Courting?” Danielle backed away from the approaching alien, discomforted by his size and anxiously aware she was woefully unarmed. A good soldier knows when to retreat.
In a flash of black and green, he captured her waist and pulled her forward, bumping her hips against his. The strength she’d always prided herself on paled next to his, his arms bulging with muscles and ridges.
“Courting,” he confirmed. His hypnotizing gaze dropped to her lips and Danielle sucked in her breath, excitement coiling within her. He isn’t thinking of…he’s an alien. He wouldn’t—
Krol covered her mouth with his, his hard lips pulverizing her soft flesh, grinding, conquering, owning. Danielle clenched her teeth, blocking his access to her mouth, and she struggled to free herself, pushing against his chest with her hands. He was hard, strong and male. Her body responded to his dominance, her nipples tightening and her pussy moistening.
Her spaceman growled, the primitive sound curling Danielle’s boot-covered toes. “Open.” He stroked her cheek with his calloused fingers, sending shivers of delight down her spine.
“No way. I’m not letting some alien inside me.” She raised her chin defiantly, her lips plump and throbbing with his hard usage.
Their gazes met and held, and a grin slowly spread across his face. Krol bobbed his head once as though acknowledging her challenge, and Danielle readied herself, bracing for impact. He attacked, bending down to recapture her mouth, his forceful kiss driving her head back.
She clung to him, teasing him with her body, dragging her nipples against his chest ridges as he probed the seam of her mouth with his surprisingly soft tongue. Danielle blocked each assault, pressing her lips tightly together, denying him entrance.
He pulled on her jaw and she dropped her chin, her lips slipping from his, running over the bone underneath his mouth. She licked his skin, flicking her tongue over his flesh, tasting salt and minerals, and she hungered for more, more Krol, more kisses.
He groaned. “Open for me, my Danielle.”
She laughed at his frustration, feeling desirable, powerful and in control. “Make me. You—”
Krol slapped her ass hard, the sound of skin hitting fabric echoing through the night air, and Danielle gasped, shock and arousal radiating from the point of impact. He was a monster, this alien, and he immediately filled her open mouth with his thick, soft tongue, plunging into her farther and farther, forcing her lips wider, insisting she take all of him.
Danielle grazed his flesh with her teeth, warning him back, yet he bravely, passionately pressed forward, utilizing his tongue like a weapon, whipping her cheeks and punishing her for her resistance. She surrendered completely to his greedy demands, clasping his shoulder ridges with her fingers, hanging on as he ravished her mouth.
Danielle pushed her hips into his groin, grinding her mons on the long, hard ridge in his leather pants. The ridge vibrated, triggering a corresponding hum within her, and she moaned into his mouth while dry humping him harder and faster.
The pain. The pleasure. I’m so close. So—
Krol pulled away from her, breaking their kiss, and Danielle swallowed her scream of frustration. “We will mate now.” He slid his fingers under the waistband of her police pants and yanked, tearing her leather belt in two.
The cool night breeze wafted upon her heated skin, reviving Danielle’s logic. What am I doing? He’s an alien, and perhaps the enemy.
“Wait.” She stepped back from him, her desire flowing to fear.
He stilled, staring at her, his forehead ridges raised in question. His eyes, more black than green, swirled quickly with passion.
Think, Danielle. She looked down the deserted road. The headlights of her police cruiser faded into darkness. She glanced up at the big, muscular alien. Moonlight reflected off his arsenal of weapons. Resting her hand on her empty gun holster, Danielle took a deep breath, held it to the count of ten and slowly released the air through her front teeth. A good soldier never shows fear.
She forced a seductive smile. “Do you want to fuck me, Warrior Krol?” Danielle dropped her voice to a husky whisper. Her space perp narrowed his eyes before nodding slowly. “Do you want to put this big alien cock,” she leaned forward and covered his groin with her trembling hand, “in my tight human pussy?”
He closed his eyes as she touched him. “I will fill you with my seed, my Danielle.” He was hard, so very hard, and his thick shaft pumped up and down like a vibrator, his broad cock head clearly outlined against his leather pants. Even knowing he could be the enemy, she wanted him, and her cheeks heated with shame.
Focus, Officer Danielle. He’s an alien.
She pulled a space gun out of Krol’s holster and pointed it at him. “In your dreams, big boy.” She smiled with satisfaction as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” She rested her thumb on a green button resembling a trigger. “And you know I mean it, so no—”
He fled, his body a flash of black and green under the moonlight. He was huge and alien and too heavily armed to be on a mission of peace. “Oh hell.” She chased him, her space gun in hand, her blood pumping with exhilaration.
He lumbered through the forest with the grace of a charging bull moose, snapping branches off the fir trees, pounding his boots on the needle-covered earth. She ran as fast as she could after him. Her lungs ached, her muscles strained and she felt alive, so very alive.
“You. Can’t. Escape. Me, Krol.” She caught a glimpse of movement, and darted in that direction.
His chuckle rolled through the air, mocking her, and then there was silence. She didn’t hear his footsteps, his breathing or any sound at all. She stopped and pivoted on her heels, squinting in the dark, cocking her head as she listened, the stillness disconcerting. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose and she raised her space gun, turning, turning, turning.
A branch snapped with a crack to her right and she shot, her fireball bullet burning holes through thick tree trunks as it blasted through the forest. The kickback was a bitch, the butt of the gun slamming into Danielle’s shoulder and throwing her off her feet. She landed with an oomph flat on her back.
“My Danielle.” The alien she hunted emerged from the darkness and crouched by her side. “Are you damaged?” Krol searched her skull with his fingers, looking for injury. He handled her as though she was fragile and soft. And as if she was unworthy of respect or love.
“Respect this.” She released years of resentment upon the alien, pistol-whipping him with the barrel of his own space gun.
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Ellora’s Cave
Solar cycles ago, Elle bonded with Berke, the fiercest of all Warlords. He declared their sexually intense bonding a mistake, deposited Elle on a distant planet and returned to Chamele to fight the wars of succession. Elle dealt with their separation by creating one of the best bounty-hunter schools in the galaxies.
Now, two of her top students have made the same mistake she did, bonding with Chamele Warlords. Determined to develop an antidote and save them from the pain she’s experienced, Elle captures her barbarian mate. Tempers flare and passions burn as she thaws the ice around Berke’s heart, revealing a desire too strong to ever be dissolved.
Because the most savage lust and love is hidden within the coldest of Warlords.
Buy It Now At: http://www.ellorascave.com/warlord-reunited.html
Buy It Now From Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Warlord-Reunited-Barbarian-Claims-ebook/dp/B00DSOY4SY
Buy It Now From ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-warlordreunited-1228440-340.html
Only Zeta and Gale could induce me to leave my sanctuary and return to this cursed planet. Elle trudged across the barren plains of Chamele 1, her boots crunching on the crystallized snow.
I told all of my bounty hunters to avoid the Chamele system but did those two listen? No. The winds blasted against Elle’s back, pellets of ice biting into her white, cold-temperature suit.
Not only did they enter the system but they then compounded their bad decisions by bonding with Berke’s brothers. Warlords who are, I suspect, as arrogant as he is. Elle gritted her teeth and stomped toward the rock outcropping, venting her irritation on the frozen ground.
I should leave Zeta and Gale to share my fate, their misguided belief in lasting love forcing them to avoid all contact with other males, to spend their life spans isolated, alone, trapped.
Elle sighed, knowing she couldn’t be that heartless, not when she could cure her friends and spare them that pain. She continued her solitary trek. Each step brought her closer to the hardhearted male she needed for their cure and her anger flowed into bone-deep dread.
She’d met Berke mere steps away from this location. She’d been a young bounty hunter then and had crashed upon the planet while chasing a fugitive. She had tried to borrow a Chamele ship. Berke had intercepted her. He’d risen from a snow bank as though he’d been part of the land he guarded, rushed toward her with his inhuman speed, disarmed her easily, and pinned her to the unrelenting ground.
Elle had looked upward, met his dark gaze and awareness had flowed over her body, a sense of home engulfing her. From that instant onward, her heart had belonged to him, would always belong to him. She’d returned with Berke to his underground chambers and they’d spent many planet rotations playing, hunting, kissing, touching. He’d teased her about being a weak human. She’d called him a barbarian.
One sundown, they’d gone too far physically, sexually bonding, an act Elle had cherished and Berke had regretted. He’d called it a mistake, his cold voice cutting through her soul. After that, the playing had stopped, replaced with increasingly frantic rutting. When Berke had taken her to Dorian 2 and left her there, she’d known he wouldn’t ever return.
Elle had been right. She’d given her bounty-hunter-school students the task of monitoring Dorian 2, solar cycles had passed and Berke hadn’t returned. He must have found a strong, worthy Chamele mate by now, had offspring, loved and been loved. She blinked back tears, feeling foolish for mourning a relationship that wasn’t meant to be.
He doesn’t care about me. I shouldn’t care about him. Elle tossed her head back defiantly, ice-covered strands of hair rattling against her cold-burned cheeks. I’ll capture him, run my experiments, break the bond, repeat the process for Zeta and Gale, leave Berke and the Chamele system forever.
She ignored the ache in her heart and scanned her surroundings, searching for danger, a habit ingrained from solar cycles of hunting fugitives. The sun’s rays had dimmed through space and cast a bluish glow over the desolate plains and jagged rock formations, the land as harsh and as humorless as the Warlord who ruled it.
Don’t think of him, of his hard body, his big hands, his sensual black eyes. Elle turned her back to the outside world, hunched her shoulders against the elements and carefully placed tabs on her gloved fingertips. She reached into the crevice, the break in the rock wall serving as a hidden backdoor to the Warlord’s private residences.
There was no sudden jolt that usually came with disrupting a Chamele security system. Elle frowned and peered into the darkness, her eyes adjusting slowly to the lack of light. Tabs already broke the circuit, deactivating the sensors.
Someone has already infiltrated Berke’s stronghold. Elle’s body tensed, her muscles pulling tight with concern over a male she shouldn’t care about.
Or he knows I’m coming for him. Elle relaxed. That scenario was more likely. Berke closely monitored landings on his planet. Even during that last visit to Dorian 2, the planet he’d left her on many solar cycles ago, he’d tracked activity on Chamele 1, putting his people’s safety first, before her, before their doomed relationship.
I no longer have the element of surprise. The challenge excited her. Elle pressed the button in her right cuff and her suit darkened to a concealing black. She slid into the crevice, entering the Warlord’s underground domain. The temperature increased immediately and the ice dangling from her eyelashes melted, the liquid splitting the light from the wall torches into a dizzying range of bright colors.
She moved along the narrow corridor, sprinting soundlessly from shadow to shadow. Her feet tingled, the feeling returning to her toes. The air grew warmer as she descended into the mining planet. Water dripped along the stone walls and perspiration slid between her breasts, invisible fingers of moisture stroking her skin.
Elle turned a corner and reeled backward as though she’d been struck. A piercing pain assaulted her brain and the air burned her nostrils. Threat. She searched the space, seeking the source of her agony.
A tall bare-chested male leaned against the far wall, taking inventory of his weapons. He moved his hands methodically over his daggers and guns, his body covered with an impressive array of weapons.
The strange male didn’t need a weapon to hurt her. Elle’s stomach heaved and bile rose in her throat, every moment spent away from Berke having reduced her tolerance for another male’s presence.
Ignore…pain. Elle breathed in, breathed out, breathed in, breathed out, pressing her body into a naturally formed alcove, the rock hard against her back. She examined the guard as she fought for composure, contemplating her next move.
The male had Berke’s long black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes. Despite the Chamele warrior’s broader, more heavily scarred face, Elle saw his resemblance to the Warlord. He must be one of Berke’s beloved brothers. The pain leveled, allowing her to think, to take action.
I’ll capture him also. She plucked at her gloves, drawing the fabric higher over her wrists, concealing all of her exposed skin. If I can capture him. The brother’s defined chest, bulging biceps and thick, leg-covering-clad thighs made him a daunting opponent. Elle extracted the gun from her right hip holster, slid the lever to stun and aimed.
The brother raised his head, his dark eyes widened in alarm and she pressed the trigger. His face contorted and he fell silently to his knees.
“Gotcha,” Elle whispered. She holstered her gun and quickly, carefully strapped a leather gag over the brother’s closed mouth, preventing him from yelling for help.
Her captive jerked backward, his bare shoulder brushed Elle’s cheek and searing pain shot across her face, down her neck, welts bubbling on her skin. Moisture dripped from her nostrils, her head pounding and her knees shaking.
Elle bit back a curse. Once one of the best bounty hunters in the galaxies, she had almost been incapacitated by a mere touch.
“I should kill your brother for that offense alone,” she murmured. Bonding with Berke had ruined any chance she had of enjoying a normal life, her affliction forcing her to resign from active bounty hunting and to sequester herself at the all-female bounty-hunter school.
The captured warrior’s gaze met hers, his jaw dropped, and the gag automatically tightened, strangling any protest he might make.
“And I should kill you for bonding with my friend, whichever one of my dear friends you have in your grasp.” She pulled his arms back and bound his wrists, the reinforced restraints unbreakable even by a Chamele warrior.
“But killing you now would hurt either Zeta or Gale, something I’d never do.” She restrained his boot-covered ankles. “I’ll capture Berke and come back for you.” Elle stood back, studied him and nodded curtly, satisfied he wouldn’t be able to free himself.
“Don’t go anywhere.” She continued along the corridor, glad to be away from Berke’s brother, away from the physical pain he caused her.
Berke will cause me another type of pain. She steeled herself for that confrontation. I’m stronger, stronger than he thinks.
As Elle approached his private chambers, she frowned. The alarms around the back entrance had been activated. Did they expect the brother to stop me? She snorted softly as she placed tabs on the sensors. Berke had always underestimated her, his weak human mate.
Prepare for a nasty surprise, Warlord. Elle pressed her glove against the control panel, the simulated handprint mimicking Berke’s creased palm and scarred fingers.
The doors slid open, and a tantalizing wall of musk hit her, Berke’s scent holding no pain, only pure pleasure. My male. Elle’s pussy moistened and her nipples tightened, the rush of emotion making her head spin.
No. She pressed her lips together, fighting her arousal. He’s no longer your male, Elle. He’s your target. Focus on your target.
She slipped inside, searching for a shadow to hide in. There wasn’t any concealing darkness, the space brightly lit, and panic rose within her, swirling with her desire.
“You shouldn’t be here,” an achingly familiar voice rumbled, Berke’s words reaching deep inside of her, weakening her knees and stripping her pride. “It isn’t safe.”
My next release is Passionate By Moonbeam, the fourth and final story in the Aliens Abductions series (Lust By Moonbeam, Ravished By Moonbeam, Exposed By Moonbeam) so I thought as I’m waiting for the release (and writing the sequel to Tattooed Tryst), I’d talk about the previous stories.
Lust By Moonbeam is the first story in the series and my first Ellora’s Cave story. It is set in the very real town of Moonbeam. Moonbeam is the Roswell of the North. It is known for its o-rings (similar to crop circles except these mysterious circles are formed in the forest – I’ve seen some of these – they’re definitely real) and unexplainable moving lights that seem to hover above the small town.
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Ellora’s Cave
Cathy arrives at Moonbeam, the Roswell of the North, with one goal—to prove the mysterious dead tree circles are not caused by UFOs. Meeting a devastatingly handsome lumberjack with unusual blue and green eyes is a bonus. He thinks he’s an alien, but that doesn’t bother Cathy. She can tolerate a little crazy in a one-night stand, especially since Rellec claims her body as no sane man ever has—with the hungry touch of forever.
Rellec arrives at Moonbeam with one goal—to retrieve his assigned mate, ensuring the continuation of his species. Having trained long and hard for his erotic mission, he is determined to satisfy his tiny human female and overcome her objections with out-of-this-world passion.
Failure is not an option.
“Shit!” Cathy lunged, reaching out to catch her flying phone. It bounced off her fingertips, connected with the toe of her work boot and shattered against the only freakin’ rock on an otherwise grass-covered path.
“Great, just great.” She set her toolkit down, bent over and picked up the pieces. “Another phone bites the dust.” Cathy stuffed the parts into her pants pocket.
“Don’t say anything.” She craned her neck to glare up at the shiny, silver, nine-foot-tall model of a UFO. “As you’re certainly not one to judge, ruining any chances I ever had of making Moonbeam my hometown.”
“Why?” she continued her one-sided conversation. “Because you’re clearly as non-operational as my phone now is, that’s why. I also doubt the dead tree rings are a result of alien landings, so once I prove the o-rings are either naturally occurring or a hoax and I file my sure-to-be-newsworthy report with the Ministry of Natural Resources, your friendly Moonbeamers won’t be so friendly toward me.” She sighed.
“And I’ll be run out of yet another small town.” Her shoulders slumped. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the alien.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched. She was alone. Officer Danielle, her contact, hadn’t yet arrived and it was too early in the day for tourists. It was only her and Moonbeam’s most famous landmark.
“I meant no offense with the fake comment.” Cathy patted the side of the flying saucer. A high-pitched ringing sound reverberated inside the fiberglass shell and a screw dropped from the panel.
“And I didn’t do that.” Half expecting the whole alien craft to come tumbling down around her, she stepped away from the spacecraft and glanced furtively to her left and to her right. No humans or aliens were nearby. She expelled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, looked around her once more and bent to pick the screw up.
It had rolled next to a cheerful yellow dandelion poking defiantly through the cracked concrete base. “I also didn’t break the base. It was here when I arrived. When people accuse me, and for some reason they always do, I expect you to vouch for me.” She shook a finger in mock warning at the weed.
“The herbaceous plant has not yet mastered human speech,” a deep voice observed.
“Eh?” Cathy straightened quickly, cracking her head on the underbelly of the spaceship. Instead of stars, like normal people would see after a concussive smack, Cathy conjured up a hot man with eyes that could rival the Northern Lights for their brilliance. The iridescent blues and greens pulled her in, making her step toward the stranger for a better look.
Unable to focus on anything but him, she tripped over the cracked concrete and fell, tumbling headfirst into his arms, her momentum propelling him backward. They landed with a thump on the ground, his big body cushioning her fall.
The stranger gulped a big mouthful of the crisp, northern air, his flannel-covered chest heaving against her cheek, and he matter-of-factly flipped her over in his lap. Cathy raised her chin. Their gazes met and held.
“Whoa,” she whispered, wincing at the pain ricocheting inside her skull. He was good-looking, his chiseled tanned face topped with disheveled black hair and dominated by those unnatural ever-changing eyes.
While Cathy stared into his irises, transfixed by the swirl of green and blue, the stranger ran his hands over her body. He examined her thoroughly, brushing the back of her aching head and dulling her pain before he trailed his fingertips along her neck and across her shoulders, the soothing heat radiating from his palms sending sparks of awareness shooting across her skin.
He skimmed his fingertips over her breasts, his caress tightening her nipples into taut, aching peaks. “Whoa,” she repeated. Warmth flooded her cheeks as he cupped her ass, squeezing her flesh. Moisture seeped from her pussy, her arousal flavoring the morning breeze.
Cathy knew she should stop him, but her flimsy reservations melted under the stranger’s magical, healing touch. She stretched out her legs, allowing him to slide his palms along her thighs, his fingers roaming dangerously close to the source of her heat.
“I have fixed your damage, my Catherine.” The man’s accent was thick and foreign, his bone-jarring rumble causing her toes to curl in her steel-toed work boots.
“Thank you.” Cathy sat across his legs, fitting against him as though she belonged there, cradled in his arms, and she breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent. He smelled like freshly cut grass and rich, dark earth, the aromas pulling at her already battered control. “How do you know my name?”
“This is a small town, druzka.” His perfect lips quirked upward. “Everyone knows your name.” His big arms wrapped around her waist and he pressed her back into the solidity of his body and the long, thick ridge in his faded blue jeans.
She shifted, rubbing her leg against the denim, and the ridge began to vibrate. Oh my God. Stifling a moan, Cathy squeezed her thighs together. “Your phone is ringing.”
His forehead furrowed with thought lines. “I have not acquired a phone. Is it a requirement for human courtship?”
The ridge continued to pulsate, massaging her leg. Cathy looked into his unusual eyes. “Then what is—”
Firm, hungry lips covered hers before she could finish her question and all her interest in the answer evaporated.
The man kissed as intensely as he touched, his surge toward her forceful and demanding, driving her head back. He didn’t allow her escape, holding her face in his large palms, securing her, his tongue probing at the seam of her mouth.
Cathy resisted his passionate assault for two long heartbeats before she released a wonder-filled sigh of submission, opening up to him. His tongue slid over hers, tumbling, playing, exploring. He tasted of Canadian back bacon and strong black coffee, and as he kissed her, melding their two mouths together, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, his delicious heat rippling across her skin in waves of pleasure.
They were kissing on a public lawn, in the shadow of a UFO, and the possibility that they might get caught heightened her desire. She clasped his broad shoulders, twisting the fabric in her fingers.
The vibrations against her thigh increased in intensity and she wiggled. He groaned into her mouth, his hard body hardening even more, and Cathy gripped the nape of his neck, trying to get closer to him. She wound her fingers in his silky hair and used the heel of her hand to pull him closer.
Tomorrow is Halloween, one of my favorite holidays, and nothing says Halloween to me like the sexy bad boy demon hero. Taurinus, the ice demon assassin hero of Demon Of Convenience, is one of my favorite heroes. His coldness hides a fiery passion. When he falls, he falls very hard and that’s so erotic!
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Changeling Press
Mina has to bond with a demon. In return for his permanent protection, she will offer him unlimited power. When she asks her best friend for help, Taurinus — a deadly assassin — arrives instead.
Mina is horrified by the last minute substitution, but she is running out of time and has no other choice. She resigns herself to a passionless bonding of convenience… until one kiss changes everything.
I’m currently working on edits for Passionate by Moonbeam, the fourth and final Moonbeam story. The hero of Passionate by Moonbeam is Fixer Vern, our favorite a$$ loving alien. He has appeared in the other three stories and reading buddies have been asking for his story. I thought it right that we should end the series with Fixer Vern’s happy ending.
All of the other heroes are mentioned or appear in Passionate by Moonbeam and one couple has HUGE news. This is my favorite story in the series.
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Ellora’s Cave
When Officer Danielle smacks a hunky alien with her police cruiser, she suspects her black-and-green perp is up to no good…and that turns her on. She shoots him. He grins. She hunts him down. He captures her, seducing her on a bed of pine needles. She’s never felt so alive.
Krol knows a frail human female won’t satisfy his primal sexual urges, but he’s willing to make that sacrifice to ensure the continuation of his species. Then Danielle attempts to terminate him, and he realizes Earth women aren’t as dainty as they appear. Her lust may be a match for his basest needs, after all.
Growing up in northern Ontario, Canada, I’ve seen the super shy lynx and the big strong bear in the wild. Bears would eat blueberries as I picked them. They were more interested in the blueberries than they were interested in me.
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Changeling Press
Ben and Lorcan want more than one wild night with Rue. The big bear shifter and the savage lynx shifter know she’s their mate. They’ll try anything — flowers, sweet words, an all night erotic frenzy — to claim Rue permanently.
Because if they don’t claim Rue, death will.
Many readers have been asking me about follow up stories to The Seen Trilogy. YES, there will be follow up stories but these stories will have different heroines and heroes. Flashes Of Me is the romance between Henley (we meet this scarred huge man in He Claims Me) and Kat Volkov (we meet her uncle in The Seen Trilogy also). The yet-to-be titled Camille’s story has also been written (Camille aka Goth girl appears in every story in The Seen Trilogy). No, she does not fall in love with Michael and you’ll find out why in her story. Anna and Blaine appear in both of these stories. Both of these new stories will be releasing in February. Each story is approximately 200 pages long (the length of He Watches Me and He Claims Me combined).
By Cynthia Sax
Buy Now From Avon Impulse
She desires to be seen. He wants to watch.
Anna Sampson has a naughty secret. Every night, she slips into her neighbor’s yard and swims naked in his pool. She fantasizes that the dynamic young billionaire watches her nightly nude aquatics, his brilliant green eyes gleaming with lust.
She discovers this isn’t pure fantasy. Gabriel Blaine has been watching her via his security cameras, and now that he has returned to L.A., he doesn’t plan to stop. That’s all he wants—to watch. Anna knows she shouldn’t allow him and she certainly shouldn’t want more, but she craves Blaine’s attention, needing his gaze fixed on her body.
Part One of The Seen Trilogy
Part of the fun of writing is hiding little hidden jokes in our stories. Sometimes reading buddies figure out these jokes. Sometimes they don’t. In my dragon shifter stories, many readers (including my reading buddies in Germany) have figured out that my heroes are often named for German items or colors. Grau of Starke, the hero of Dragon Lord’s Destiny, is a powerful silver dragon. Grau means roughly gray and Starke is power.
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Changeling Press
Then a warrior dressed all in gray, breathing smoke and fire, enters the fray. Celestria knows he is the one, the man she is destined to love. He doesn’t know he’s her future husband, however, and he is riding toward her, his sword raised.
Fangs In Frosting is the first short story in the humorous paranormal Fangs In series. I love Lottie, the curvaceous heroine, and Viktor, the overly serious vampire stalking her.
By Cynthia Sax
Now Available From Changeling Press
Hi! My name is Charlotte, and I own the cupcake shop on the corner –
the sole dessert place open late in our neighborhood. My shop has quite a few regular customers but none are as devoted as Viktor — Mr. Tall, Dark, and Serious. I give him the special treatment, including extra sprinkles on the cupcakes he buys yet never eats, and offering him private tours of my walk-in pantry.
Viktor is a very kinky guy. I never see him before sundown, and he’s a biter. Yep, I did him, in the pantry, amongst the boxes of cupcake
wrappers and the bags of chocolate chips. During that encounter, he took a little nip out of luscious Lottie, that would be me, and tonight, he’s back for more. He says he has plans for me. I hope they don’t include clothes.