Feral Series IV: Feral Fallout
Click on image to enlarge.
by Skhye Moncrief
Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Science Fiction
Description: Bring-'em-back-alive was Theone's job description back on Earth. Now off-world, beauty, sex appeal, brains, and lots of martial arts training make her the weapon of choice. She's heading into the deadliest compound of political prisoners in the universe on a last-ditch effort to liberate an alien king. She understands sex is merely a tool she can use to achieve her objective.
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: November 2011
15 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [347 KB]
Reading time: 209-292 min.
"Can you do anything more to make the man drool over you, Theo? You're torturing him," my friend Cassie noted with the exaggerated sway of her head, making her long loose chocolate brown hair swoosh around her perfectly slightly voluptuous frame where she leaned against the sterile metal spacecraft's inner wall next to the console I had torn open.
Mind your own business, Theone Kemble thought. Like go tie back that hair before it winds up wrapped around one of my raw live circuits... Not that hair conducted electricity. But it was a nice thought. Just go do something like go cat around the recruits and find a were-assassin mate. Leave me alone.
Damn, I was edgy. Or Cassie just hit one of my sore spots. "I haven't done a thing to lead the Luvk prince on. He's chosen to follow me around." I cleared my throat knowing full well the tiger-striped Wrank chatted far too much about my personal life to just be helping me learn the commander's prized Crellon spacecraft's electrical system inside out. "I needed help lifting these goddamned panels too. Hell, I'm only five-foot six and barely one-hundred-and-thirty pounds. Any upper-arm strength I have can't maneuver these enormous metal sheets. How do you suggest I follow orders?"
"Goro has something up his sleeve." Cassie smirked and leaned close. "It's not normal that he keeps you out here working your ass off with this damned spacecraft when he pushes the rest of us to mix and mingle. You can't tell me you haven't heard the rumors about how manipulative he is. It's why he's the freaking commander!"
"I consider it a great honor to be chosen to work as the commander's personal pilot. Gods, Cassie, I'm just an earthling--"
"Hence my point." She crossed her arms over her black leather vest and adopted an even sassier stance. "I'm telling you it's just not right that he's forcing you to hide out inside this spaceship. Why would he do that with a recruit? You're supposed to be preparing to find your place in the universe and mate to assist in some culture's transition into the new order. Not hang out inside this tin can. Alone."
Of course she was dead on in her really annoying healer way of pointing things out. But I had been an operative for the U.S. government, an operative who didn't exist, bounced between the CIA and FBI for whatever crazy-assed scheme they'd required a kick-ass blonde chick with enough MacGyver smarts to make it back alive. Whatever Goro had planned for my future probably broke all boundaries for the standard recruit. Yes, I was definitely adding to my electrical engineer repertoire and martial-arts background every day I jacked with the ship's systems. And I could cozy up to Wrank's noble side with my expertise in handling Earth nobility as easily as I could invite his miles of undulating muscles into my bed. That's exactly what I needed to do because the Luvk warrior was so damned hot I melted the minute he strode into view. Who wouldn't with those bloody leather pants he wore? And shirt? What shirt? More like a couple leather straps and an o-ring.
"You're quiet? Did something I say finally hit home?" Cassie droned.
The droning always hit home as I toppled off the cliff life kept propping my butt atop. But Cassie didn't understand orders like most of The Order of the Marshal's female recruits from Earth. The Order took great pains to accept female earthling psychics with all their women's-lib quirks. They had to. One of the few languages adopted by the rest of the universe during the Blood Wars was English, a reflection of the process of simplifying recruitment of lesser-evolved Earth psychics for were-assassin duty. Throw in Earth metaphors and analogies with the measurement of time from the little blue-and-white gem floating in space and an Earth girl felt right at home among the big psychic warriors wanting to mate to preserve universal peace. Lots of sexy extraterrestrial warriors... So, I could go along with mating one exotic male. Or I thought I could before becoming Goro's personal pilot. Because I'm the gal who takes orders.
Just call me a soldier.
"Just admit I'm right," Cassie said.
Hell. Get out of my face. "Why don't you go tend to the greenhouse? Stimulate some seeds into little green shoots? You know. Put your PhD to good use." Not that my Masters in electrical engineering was anything to sneer at. The biologist was better working with taxonomy than offering advice on interpersonal relationships. Look at where I landed with my volunteering for were-assassin duty? Who else got to see the universe as the commander's personal pilot?
Cassie's annoying mouth of perfectly-sculpted lips that attracted males from light years beyond the nearest black hole stretched out then curved down into a scowl. "Quit reminding me I don't have a green thumb already."
She couldn't work her psychic gift worth squat. Too bad. For some reason, Goro jumped on hauling her carcass halfway across the universe to participate in some cockamamie mating bond. My powers of intuition always saved my ass. Probably made me the handy tool I had been for the US government. But Cassie would have wiped out all vegetation in the mother country if she'd accepted a position with the state. So, she needed to get back to studying hard instead of shaking out my dirty laundry. "All the more reason you should be working on your powers of healing, growth, rejuvenation, or whatever they are instead of harassing me about my business."
In her kick-ass black leather were-assassin pants and knee-high boots, she seemed almost comical snorting with her scowl. But the woman took her inability to nurture plant life serious even though the activity was just a chore to help her stimulate her mysterious dormant psychic power. Alas, we all had chores. Hence our classification as cadets.
Eh, maybe I should have been kinder. But she'd come in here telling me how things were according to her limited worldview. While she needed to deal with her own problems.
The exterior hatch hissed open, producing the six-foot-four orange-and-black Lord who had attached himself to me six weeks ago upon my latest arrival to his home world and the Marshal base.
The way his black leather pants split down the sides gave me Goosebumps. Or was the cause simply his genetic tattoo-like tiger stripes bulging in those split seams with his working muscles? At least he hadn't spoken yet. Or I'd be frozen for a few moments from his deep resonating voice that made my cells hum with sheer pleasure. Just the way he carried himself was so blasted noble all I wanted to do was tackle him. Make babies. And there'd been no time for that back on Earth. Babies for me were out here. Beyond Earth. So very so just a few feet away.
Geesh, that blue gaze could slice through anything to get what he wanted. Including my attention. Hopefully he couldn't detect my interest in my hitching breath. Who was I kidding? He had heightened senses including hearing. I should give Cassie the boot and take the prince by the horn. His horn was always in arms' reach, below the belt. I doubt he'd refer to the move as an underhanded blow. Hopefully, because I hadn't tooted a horn for almost two years.
Cassie suddenly beamed. "Good to see you, Wrank. Didn't see you at roll call this morning."
Was that little wench flirting with my Tiger when there were hundreds of Lords vying for mates among the Marshals? This damned planet had so many she could crawl under any rock and find one.
No fucking way.