A snippet from WHERE MAGIC RULES

Where Magic Rules is a fantasy novella about a modern day man who finds himself in a word of dragons and mages. Among the people he meets is a young woman who calls herself Phillip and dresses as a man. The ebook version is only 99¢.

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He held up a hand.  “Don’t get so hostile.  In my world, there are plenty of people who feel attracted to their own gender.  A few of them even feel they were born in the wrong body—the wrong sex.”

Her eyes lit with eagerness.  “Really?”

He nodded.  “Sure.  There are men who want to be women and women who want to be men.”  He waved a hand.  “With the right surgery, they can get it straightened out.  Sometimes they even fall in love, get married, and adopt some kids.”

She blinked.  “You mean that a woman could become a man and then marry another woman?”

“Sure. Why not?”  

She grimaced.  “I have no interest in women.”

The comment left Joe at a loss.  “Well, if you don’t want to truly be a man, then why do insist on acting like one?”

“I don’t know,” she said, despair in her voice.

“Maybe the dragon is right, and it’s the necklace?” Joe said.  “The Great Mage could help you take it off.”

“No!”  Despair had morphed into anger.  “Don’t you dare suggest that to him, or I’ll kill you!”

Joe stared at her in surprise.  “Sheesh!  You’re really something.”

Phillip looked abashed.  “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, enunciating the word carefully.

Joe was surprised into a laugh.  “Hey, that was pretty good.”

She smiled at him, and Joe thought she had never looked more appealing.  After they had cleaned up from their meal he watched the way the flickering firelight made her face look almost delicate.  After a while, he let his mind drift onto other thoughts as he stared into the fire.

 “What are you thinking?” Phillip said.

“I don’t think I should say,” Joe said.

“Why not?” she said, curious.  “Is it something bad?”

“I don’t think so.  You might not agree.”

“What is it?  Tell me!”

“Well,” Joe said, “I was remembering that blue gown the Great Mage had—the one he threatened to make you wear.”

“Why would you think about that?” she asked, amusement in her voice.

“I was wondering how you’d look in it.  I had decided you’d look pretty damn spectacular.”

She sat up.  “I don’t wear dresses.”

“I know.”

“You think because you saved my life a couple of times you can make me do things I don’t want to do?”

“No.”

“Because I won’t!  I won’t be a woman for you!”

Joe sat up beside her.  “I know that.  Unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking of you as a woman.  I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

“So what do you expect me to do about it?”

“Nothing.  It’s not your problem.  You don’t need to worry about it.”

She turned her back to him.  “I thought you were someone I could trust.”

The pain in her voice alarmed him.  “You can trust me.”

“No, you’re like Lord Marcellin’s soldiers.  All men are interested in is forcing women to rut with them.”

Having his feelings lumped in with the impersonal lust of nameless mercenaries made Joe mad as hell.  “Just because the men in Lord Marcellin’s guard have no respect for women doesn’t mean every man is that way.  I never a touched a woman unless she wanted me to touch her.  And people don’t rut, they make love—if they care about each other.”

Phillip spoke with her back to him, her voice muffled.  “So you’ve—you’ve made love to lots of women?”

“I wouldn’t say lots.”

“How many?” she asked, still with her back to him.

“I don’t know,” he said, mystified.  “Does it matter?”

“I was just—just wondering if there’s been anyone since you came to the Great Mage’s palace.”

Still confused, Joe hedged.  “Three years is a long time.”

“So there is someone?”

“What’s going on here?”  Joe knit his brows in a tight frown.  “I told you I can’t stop thinking of you as a woman, and you jumped on me for that. Somehow we’re now tallying up my sex life.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.  Why are you acting this way?”

Finally she turned around to face him.  “I’m not acting any differently.”

“Like crap.” Joe frowned.  Her eyes had welled up, and her face looked red and splotchy.  “You look as if you’re about to cry.”

“I never cry.”

“Maybe not, but you’re damn close to it now.”

She turned her head away, and Joe put one hand gently on her shoulder.  “What’s wrong, Phil?”

As soon as he touched her, he felt her body stiffen.  She gasped, and all at once she seemed to have difficulty in catching her breath.

“Are you okay?” Joe asked in alarm.

“Oh yes!  It’s so different now!”

“What?”

“Don’t let go,” she said throwing her arms around him as she twisted to face him.  “Whatever happens, don’t let go of me!”

“I won’t.” Joe folded her into an embrace to offer comfort and was surprised when she lifted her face and kissed him. “Damn,” he said when the kiss ended.  “I never saw that coming.  What are you up to, Phil?”

She pulled his shirt open and ran one hand over his torso.  “Don’t let go of me, and everything will be fine.”

Stunned, Joe grabbed her hand.  “You want to make love?  Right here?”

“What’s wrong with right here?”

“Nothing,” Joe said, throwing his scruples to the winds.  “So long as you’re okay with this, right here is just fine.”

“You talk too much,” she said, and she pulled his head down to kiss him again.

Snippet from WHERE MAGIC RULES

 Where Magic Rules is a fantasy novella with a love story at its core. Joseph, a modern day man finds himself transported to a world of mages, magic, and dragons. During a battle, he saves the life of what appears to be a very young enemy soldier, only to discover he has saved a young woman who wears a distinctive and interesting charm. 

Here is a snippet from Chapter 2:

“Ah!”  The Great Mage moved closer to the bed and scrutinized her intently.

She returned his stare, not flinching even when he stepped closer.  “You don’t frighten me, old man.”

“Don’t I?”  Suddenly the mage lunged forward and grabbed her by the arm.

Phillip gave a strangled gasp but didn’t otherwise cry out.  It looked to Joe as if she wanted to pull away but couldn’t.  Joe could identify with that feeling.

“Joe!” the mage said.  “Take the stone in your right hand.  Pull it as far away from Phillip as you can without hurting her.”

Joe obeyed reluctantly.  He folded his right hand into a fist around the stone, then pulled the chain to its full length, which was not very far. 

The Great Mage took a step closer and shifted his grip to Phillip’s shoulders.  She gave a little sigh, a faint, breathy whisper, and closed her eyes.

The three of them stayed frozen for almost a full minute.  Joe was wondering if Phillip had fallen asleep when she opened her eyes and looked at him.

She seemed to Joe to be staring at him hungrily, as if he were something she wanted very badly.

“Now,” the Great Mage said, “let go of the stone, Joe, and step back a pace.”

Joe obeyed.  As soon as the stone again lay on her skin, Phillip’s angry glare returned.  She said nothing, however, until the Great Mage released her and stepped back.

“Keep that man away from me!”  She shouted at the mage, but she pointed at Joe.  “Keep him away, or I’ll kill him!”

Her fierceness stunned Joe.  She sounded sincere.

“You have a poor sense of gratitude,” the Great Mage said.  “Joe saved your life.”

Phillip grimaced and gave Joe a sulky scowl.  “Thank you.  Now go away.”

“Fine with me,” Joe said.  “May I leave now, sir?”

“Not just yet,” the Great Mage said.  “I’ve finally determined why you came to us, Joseph.”

Joe blinked in surprise.  “Sir?”

“I said when you accepted me as your overlord that I would keep you close until the day I found enlightenment about your purpose here.  Do you remember?”

For the past three years Joe had wondered if that day would ever arrive.  “Yes, sir.”

The Great Mage’s expression grew serene.  “Your purpose is to help Phillip find her true self.  You’ll have to start right away.”

Joe’s jaw dropped, and at the same time, Phillip blurted out an angry expletive.

“Now, now,” the Great Mage said.  “Such language isn’t appreciated here, Phillip.  You’ll have to learn to guard your tongue.”

Sister Gertruda fluttered near the bed like a moth near a candle.  “My lord, she must keep quiet!  The wound could reopen if she doesn’t.”

“Precisely,” the Great Mage said.  “I think a small sleeping draught is in order, sister.”

“A curse on you and all your progeny!” Phillip shouted.  “May they all sicken and die terrible deaths!”

“I have no progeny,” the Great Mage said, unperturbed.  “No child of my body, in any event.”

“Then may the worms eat you, as you lie cold and forgotten in the earth!”

“The worms eat everyone who dies,” the mage said.  “No one lives forever, and no one is remembered forever.  Your curse applies to everyone, sooner or later.”

“Then I shall make it sooner!” Phillip cried, lunging at the Great Mage.

Joe jumped to intercept her.  Holding her back without hurting her proved a difficult task.

Sister Gertruda entered the fray with a cup of sleeping draught, but it was only when the Great Mage took hold of Phillip’s arm that she became calm enough for Sister Gertruda to hold the cup to her mouth.

The wounded woman choked and swallowed, then dashed the cup to the floor.  “Take your bloody swill elsewhere, you pig of a woman!”

“How much did you manage to give her, sister?” the mage asked.

“Enough,” Sister Gertruda said with grim satisfaction.  “She’ll sleep soon.”

“Bastard!”  Phillip pulled free from Joe’s slackened grasp and sank down upon the bed.  “For all your high sounding phrases, you’re no better than a dark lord.”

Sister Gertruda gasped in indignation.  “Mind your tongue!”

Phillip looked as if she would like to retort, but instead, she merely lay down as if she were exhausted.

“The sleeping draught is working,” Sister Gertruda said, pleased.

“Yes,” the Great Mage said, as Phillip closed her eyes.  “As soon as she’s sound asleep, have her conveyed to Joe’s room.”

“My room?” Joe blurted out.  “Why?”

“Because you’re going to tend her while she heals,” the Great Mage said.  “You need to get to know each other better before you leave on your quest.”

“What quest?” Joe said, feeling as if the floor had rocked under his feet.

The Great Mage shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

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Snippet from SHADES OF EMPIRE

Shades of Empire, a dark space opera/romance, is set in the far future and incorporates three separate love stories. It begins in the harem of Emperor Lothar du Plessis, absolute ruler of a planet known as Gaulle. In Chapter Two the action switches to the merchant starship Queen Bee, owned and captained by Madeline Palestrino.  This book is free in Kindle Unlimited.

From Chapter Two: 

     Her first mate had a stoic expression when she told him she was leading the expedition herself. “Be careful, Maddy.”      

     She grinned, knowing that he wanted to go. “Aren’t I always?” 

     He snorted as he checked the fastening of her helmet clamps. “Sure, sure. Just like the time we went after the Emperor Lothar.” 

     She frowned at this mention of past adventures. “Take care of my ship, Niels,” she said as she stepped into the shuttle. 

     “I will.” He swung the bay door shut. 

     Madeline heard a thunk as the lock engaged. The four other members of the expedition, fully suited, waited for her on the shuttle. Madeline took a seat at the back and let the safety harness envelop her. A shuttle ride always made her feel claustrophobic. The confined space, defined by a center aisle with five seats on either side, seemed too small for the passengers, even now with only half the seats occupied.

     Also, the loss of the ship’s artificial gravity when the door locked invariably disconcerted her. Her magnetic boots held her feet to the deck, but the deck no longer felt like the floor when her arms floated at her sides. The trip took only a few minutes. She heard the soft whir of the docking port engaging and the abrupt whoosh as their harnesses retracted. 

     “Face plates closed,” Madeline said. Madeline waited until she heard four distinct clicks, and then pressed her own helmet control to close her face plate. She locked it with her chin control, and then stood up. 

     Magnetic boots clanged on the steel deck as the five of them started walking. The iris of the shuttle’s docking port opened smoothly, but instead of the inside of an airlock, Madeline saw the pitted surface of a docking hatch. “What the hell?” she said under her breath. She had been last in line, but now she pushed her way forward. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t the pod hatch open?” Her voice sounded breathy on the com, as if she were out of shape. 

     Mahler had been in the lead. He stepped back now and used one gloved finger to trace a thick metallic ridge, just visible where the lip of the docking port met the skin of the life pod. “Look at that, skipper!” 

     For a moment Madeline stared at the ridge without comprehension. It looked almost like scar tissue. Finally, she understood. “It’s welded shut!” 

     Mahler nodded. “It sure is.” 

     Clinking noises sounded behind her. Madeline realized her crew members were talking to each other by touching helmets to carry the sound, so that she couldn’t hear them. “Coms on full,” she ordered at once. “If you’ve got something to say, let’s hear it.” 

     After a brief silence her senior tech spoke up. “Why would anyone seal up a life pod like this, skipper? Unless there was something dangerous—” He didn’t finish the sentence, but three helmeted heads nodded in agreement. 

     Madeline frowned. 

     Before she could speak, Mahler pointed again. “Hey, isn’t that—” He stopped, and they all stared at the swirl of gold lines at the top of the hatch cover. 

     Madeline reached out her hand and traced the gold ridges that looped and whirled back upon themselves. “The Emperor’s personal seal.” She couldn’t feel any texture through her glove, except that the seal was solid, not holographic. 

     There was another silence. The crewman at the back of the line tried to shuffle his feet, and swayed back and forth as the magnets held his feet down. Lineaus was new to the crew of the Bee. He needed practice at this kind of exercise. 

     “So,” Madeline said, “Emperor Lothar doesn’t want us to open this life pod. Seems to me that that’s a damn good reason to cut it open right now.” 

     Someone sighed, and Madeline grinned. “No sense being stupid about it, though. Buchanan!” 

     Her senior tech started. “Yes, ma’am?” 

     Madeline patted the dull black surface of the hatch cover. “See if you can find out more about what’s behind this door before we cut it open.” 

     The line of men seemed to relax all at once. Madeline resisted the temptation to check the charge on the laser pistol attached to the leg of her suit. No sense making them more nervous. 

     Buchanan stepped up to the hatch and opened his tech kit. After a few minutes with a portable scanner pressed against the hatch, he shook his head inside his helmet. “I think there’s someone there. I get a life sign reading, but there’s no sound to speak of.” 

     “Just one person?” 

     He nodded, and then his eyes opened wide. “Wait!” 

     “What?” Madeline demanded. “What is it?” 

     “Voices! I hear voices. Someone screaming—a woman I think. And someone crying. No, wait, now it’s a man talking. Damn, I can’t hear well enough!” 

     Madeline made up her mind. “Okay, that’s enough. If Emperor Lothar has someone shut up in there, we need to get him—or her—out.” She stepped back as her crew moved to obey her. 

     There was no further suggestion that the life pod was too dangerous to breach. Instead, Mahler and Buchanan operated the cutting tool that was part of the shuttle’s emergency equipment, while Doc checked his medkit, and Lineaus watched the thin crack on one side of the hatch grow steadily longer. 

     Finally, the tool moved back to the top of the long irregular oval, almost completing the cut. 

     Madeline stepped forward and punched the center of the oval. The piece of titanium alloy clattered noisily in the thin air of the shuttle as it bounced off the airlock walls. Beyond the opening, Madeline saw only darkness. 

     She stepped up to the ragged hole and shone her helmet lamps into the life pod’s airlock. Empty. The lamps made cones of light that cut through the blackness, but they illuminated nothing but an uncluttered airlock. 

     Mahler peered around her. “Looks damn near new.” 

     Madeline agreed. She climbed through the threshold they had made and took a few tentative steps. “Wait there,” she said, when she saw the controls for the interior hatch. “Let me check this out.” This hatch looked perfectly normal. The dials appeared to be working. 

     “Check your helmets,” Madeline called out. “There’s not a whole lot of air in here.” She heard clinking noises as they all checked each others’ helmet clamps one more time. Madeline engaged the control for the hatch and whirled the pointer to the unlocked position. She took a deep breath and pulled open the hatch. 

     Darkness. Nothing but more darkness. Madeline leaned into the opening and let her helmet lamps flicker over either side of the corridor. The pod had been gutted, but not in any sort of emergency. The suspended animation bays were gone, but all the power leads and other connections had been neatly stubbed off. Whoever had refitted this pod had had time to do a thorough job. 

     “See anything, skipper?” Buchanan’s voice sounded in her ear. “Anyone there?” 

     “Nothing much yet.” She took a few steps, her magnetic boots clanging on the metal deck every time she put her foot down. The empty bays made for a spooky atmosphere. Madeline checked each one, half expecting someone to jump out at her. No one did. 

     Where had the voices come from then? The only sounds she heard were her own metallic footfalls reverberating noisily. “There’s enough air to carry sound, anyway. No gravity, though. It looks okay so far. Come on and we’ll check it out.” 

     More clanging echoed as the crewmen all climbed through the jagged opening and walked through the airlock to join her in the pod. They advanced cautiously, Buchanan first. 

     Before he even reached Madeline, he stopped at the life support controls. “Hey, skipper, look at this.”

     Madeline stepped over to the console. “What is it?” 

     “There’s plenty of oh two aboard.” The senior tech sounded indignant. “Someone’s set the air feed to little more than a slow leak.” 

     Madeline lifted her brows. It seemed an odd thing to do. No one could live on that amount of oxygen, and what good was a slow leak over no air at all? “Really? Can you get us more air, then?” 

     He nodded and muttered something. His hands moved over the controls and in a few seconds a loud hiss told Madeline he had been successful. 

     It occurred to her that the sound wouldn’t have carried without air. “So what’s our status now?” she asked. “Do we still need our helmets?” 

     Behind the transparent polymer, Buchanan’s face twitched as he considered the question. “Give it a few more minutes. Let’s see what we find.” 

     Madeline nodded, and turned back to her exploration. Everyone had waited for her. She resumed the lead, and was only a few steps ahead when the corridor suddenly opened into the pod’s small bridge. A dark shape filled the space in the middle of the empty room where the navigation controls should have been. 

     Madeline advanced a few more steps and bent her head down so that her helmet lamps shone full on the shape. It was an acceleration couch, fitted out with some sort of life support system that swaddled its half-reclined occupant in nutrient gel. 

     “Is he alive?” Doc’s voice, breathy on the com, almost squeaked with tension. 

     The other crewmen seemed just as interested. The four of them crowded into the room, but clustered together into a tight clump near the entrance to the corridor. 

     The life pod’s only passenger was obviously male. Except for the life support mask that covered most of his face, he was as naked as the day he had been born, and just as helpless. Every limb and his head, too, had been immobilized by restraints. 

     Madeline walked slowly around him so that she could see him better. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell with regularity. The life support mask obscured the lines of his face, but through the transparent cover, Madeline could see that he looked exhausted. Deep shadows ringed his eyes, and the color had drained from his face. His skin was light enough that the mottled green and yellow bruises on his chest looked startling. A long, half-healed scrape ran up one side of his torso. 

     “Why would anyone leave someone like this?” she wondered out loud. 

     Doc stepped forward and bent over the stranger. “He looks drugged or something.” He glanced over his shoulder at Buchanan. “Can I open my helmet?” 

     The senior tech checked a control on his wrist and nodded. “Should be okay now.” 

     Doc unlocked his face plate and it flipped backwards over his head. 

     Madeline followed suit. She sniffed. The air in the pod felt dead, no matter what Buchanan said. It wasn’t so much the faint metallic odor, but rather the cold, dampness of it against her skin that repelled her. 

     None of the other three had followed Doc’s example. They all stood and watched from behind their face plates as their friend bent over the imprisoned stranger. Just as Doc reached out a hand to touch the man, an abrupt click made the Bee’s medic jump in surprise. 

     A motorized arm slid smoothly along on a track, then stopped after a few centimeters. It held a hypospray directly over the imprisoned man’s head. Another click sounded and the hypo moved downward, pressed against the man’s neck, and discharged with a faint hiss. 

     Just as the stranger groaned and opened his eyes, the cabin lights came on, illuminating the scene abruptly. The man stared at the crew of the Bee, blinking as if their presence confused him. He didn’t look at them for long, however. After a few seconds, his eyes moved to stare directly at the space in front of Madeline.

Shades of Empire is available on Kindle and is free in Kindle Unlimited.

A Snippet from THE SIXTH DISICPLINE

The Sixth Discipline is free in most eBook stores. The story. a far future, slow burn romance is set on the isolated colony world of Haven, where the human colonists inhabit three different environments: cities surrounded by small towns and farms, a vast forest inhabited by mystics, and mountain valleys from whence fierce hunters and warriors raid the other two groups. 

Here's a snippet from Chapter Six, when things start to get really interesting.

Francesca stopped turning and pointed to a distant, snow-capped peak in the middle of the range. “That looks like Mount Fujiyama. We must be on Hayden land, which means we’re a good ways south of the city.”

South of the city might mean closer to the Sansoussy Forest. Ran-Del cleared a space in the dirt with his foot and handed her a twig. “Show me.”

Francesca squatted down and drew a small circle. “That’s Shangri-La.” Below the city, she sketched a large four-sided shape, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, and drew a zigzag line across the middle of it. “This is the Hayden estate, and the wiggly line is the mountains behind us.” She added a dot near one end of the line of mountains. “This mark is where Fujiama is.”

“Where on your map is the forest of the Sansoussy?” Ran-Del asked, crouching down beside her.

She drew a large, amorphous, cloud-like shape just slightly south and a good ways west of the city.

“There,” she said. “I’m not really sure where your people live, but that’s the Sansoussy Forest. It’s prairie and rolling hills up until then.”

Ran-Del studied the marks and then looked up at the sun. “We’re north of your mountain, so we must be about here.” He laid a small pebble in the top half of the squarish shape.

“I think so,” Francesca said. “But Hayden land extends quite a ways. I can’t say for sure.”

“That answers where,” Ran-Del said, sitting back on his heels. “But why would your father have put us here?”

“I’m not positive.” She ducked her head, and Ran-Del sensed embarrassment. “But I have an idea. It’s related to the reason Pop snatched you from the forest in the first place.”

He focused his psy sense for any hint that she was lying. “What is the reason?”

Francesca seemed reluctant to answer directly. “Did Pop tell you about what’s happening to Great Houses like Hayden?”

Ran-Del recalled Baron Hayden’s monologues and nodded. “He said his house was in danger of being swallowed up by a bigger house. He said that I could help him to stop it in some way, but he would never say how.”

Francesca stared straight ahead as if she found the distant mountains fascinating. “Well, the reason we’re vulnerable is because right now the House of Hayden is just me and Pop; there’s no one else. Pop was an only child, and so was I. I have no Hayden cousins, no siblings, and no husband.” She paused and then blurted out, “Pop wants you to change that.”

Ran-Del frowned, still not understanding. “What do you mean? How could I change that?”

Francesca frowned, plainly annoyed at having to explain everything in explicit language. “Pop wants me to get married—to you.”

Ran-Del suspected her first of lying, and then of mocking him. His psy sense told him neither was the case. “Your father is insane. You had nehiver seen me until three days ago, and I had never seen you.”

“He may have a crazy idea in his head, but he’s quite sane.”

Ran-Del got to his feet and looked down at her. “He has day bats nesting in his upper branches. He came into our forest and shot me with a dart, as if he had been hunting his dinner. Are you telling me that he was looking for a husband for you?”

“Yes.” Francesca shaded her eyes from the morning sun as she looked up at him.

Ran-Del snorted with rampant disbelief and looked away to scan the countryside. “No one would do that,” he said, looking back at her. “He cares about you. Why would he find a stranger—a wild man your people called me—to marry his only daughter?”

Francesca still crouched on the ground. She sighed and hugged her knees. “This wasn’t a sudden aberration, this respect for your people. Pop has always thought you lived a cleaner life.” She frowned as if she thought her meaning wasn’t clear. “Not cleaner in the sense of hygiene, but more honest—more honorable. When he realized that he’d need to arrange a marriage for me, he got this idea that the thing to do was to find a Sansoussy to marry me.”

“A Sansoussy?” Ran-Del said. “Just any Sansoussy?”

“Not exactly.” Francesca stood up but turned her eyes away as if she were reluctant to meet his gaze directly. “Pop didn’t want anyone too old or too young—or already married. And he wanted a warrior who had some psy sense, because that combination gave me the most protection.”

“So he went into the forest to acquire a Sansoussy?” The more Ran-Del thought about it, the more it fit Stefan Hayden’s words and actions. His anger rose when he realized how thoroughly the Baron had planned to hijack his life. “And I was the first one whose caste bracelet had the right beads, is that it?”

“Pretty much.”

Ran-Del crossed his arms over his chest. “What made him think I’d marry you? He could have kept me locked in his house forever, but he couldn’t have made me marry you.”

Francesca’s face turned a deep red, and she radiated mortification. “I was supposed to seduce you. Pop said you’d feel obligated to marry me if I did.”

Ran-Del had to clench his jaw for a second, to control his anger. If it got any worse, he would need the First Discipline. “You knew what your father wanted, and you agreed to it?”

Her face contorted in agitation. “No! I mean, yes, I knew, but I never agreed to it. The day before yesterday I told him flat out that I wouldn’t do anything to try to make you marry me. Then last night Pop offered me a glass of wine, and after that it’s all a blank.”

Buy links for most ebookstores here:  http://carmenspage.blogspot.com/p/free-ebook.html

Snippet from Saronna's Gift

From Chapter One: Duncan Trushenko and his father own and operate a large intergalactic grading company, headquartered on a tax-free but very backward planet called Kruegger's World.

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Duncan smiled to himself but was careful not to let his amusement show. His father had been curious about his breakup with Emily Pulaski since it happened, but Duncan had no intention of satisfying that curiosity, especially as his father had been right in his assessment of Emily’s intentions. “If you disliked her so much,” he said instead, “why did you hire her?”

“I didn’t dislike her,” Vladimir said. “When it came to navigating the seas of interstellar trade regulations, she had excellent skills. I’m happy you seem to have learned a lot of them from her. I just didn’t want you to marry her.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Dad. Either you want me to get married or you don’t.”

“Don’t be silly,” Vladimir said irritably. “Marrying the wrong person is worse than not getting married at all.”

Duncan didn’t know what to say. His parents had lived apart ever since he was a baby; the few occasions they had been together for any length of time had resulted in epic quarrels. Another awkward silence ensued.

“I’m sorry, Duncan,” his father said. “I wasn’t trying to cast any aspersions on your mother.”

Duncan put his glass down. “I know, Dad. Why all this eagerness to fix me up with someone? I thought that was Mom’s job.”

“Well,” Vladimir said, sounding oddly hesitant, “Your mother and I both want you to find someone—get married, have a family of your own. If nothing else, I’d like to think that someday there’ll be someone for you to pass Cameron Trushenko on to. It’ll all be yours someday. I won’t live forever, you know.”

Duncan grinned openly. “You’re not giving me the ‘I’m getting old’ speech, are you? You look pretty hale for that. Naomi must be taking good care of you.”

“She is, she is.” Vladimir’s face lit with affection. “I can’t tell you what a change it makes in your outlook to have someone who cares about you in that way. It’s meant a world of difference to me to have her with me.”

Almost the only good thing about his parents’ intense dislike for each other was it took away any guilt he might have felt for being pleased when one of them found consolation elsewhere. “Good. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“The thing is,” Vladimir went on, “poor Naomi had no one to keep her company. I mean, she looks after the house for me, but really, she had no close friends, nothing to occupy her leisure time. And sometimes I get tied up for days on end.”

Duncan frowned. What was the old man leading up to? “I know you’re busy. Cameron Trushenko is a major concern. Why don’t you just hire more help?”

“Well,” Vladimir said, a nervous edge creeping into his voice, “the thing is, Naomi wanted more than just to have me free up some time. She needed a friend—a woman friend.”

Duncan sat up straighter. “What’s going on, Dad? Are you trying to tell me something?”

Vladimir glanced at the window to the courtyard. He seemed almost reluctant to meet Duncan’s eyes. “Well, yes, I am, son.”

“Son?” Duncan moved to the edge of his chair in alarm. “Son? You never call me ‘son’ unless something’s wrong. The last time you called me ‘son,’ we had just lost three million credits.”

Vladimir looked almost relieved at the accusation. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that, as I said, Naomi needed someone, and the people on this world are so stuffy. There are off-worlders, and there are natives and the two just don’t mix. There was no one Naomi was comfortable making friends with, no one who didn’t look down her nose at her. And native women almost never leave their homes. They don’t need friends, because they all have hordes of relations. And then I found out you were coming home, and I knew you’d broken up with Emily a while ago. It seemed like a perfect solution to both problems.”

“What did?” Duncan said, more mystified than ever.

“Well,” Vladimir said, still apparently finding it difficult to come to the point, “the thing is, son—Duncan, I sort of—well, I bought a woman for you.”

Duncan’s mouth dropped open. He must have heard his father wrong. “You did what?”

“I bought a woman for you.”

No, he had heard right. But the idea was incredible. “You bought a woman for me? You bought a sentient being?”

“Now, Duncan—”

The more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. “You thought I’d want some down-trodden, complacent, hapless little female to make use of in my free time? You thought I’d take advantage of a woman like that?”

“Well,” Vladimir said, “no, not really. Actually, I just needed someone to keep Naomi company, but there’s no way I could get someone on those terms. And besides,” he added as an afterthought, “she’s not little.”

“What?” Duncan jumped to his feet. The old man had gone crazy. There was no other explanation. “I don’t give a damn how tall she is! You just send her back where she came from, Dad. I won’t have any part of this.”

“But, Duncan,” Vladimir said, his voice filled with righteous indignation, “when I brought Naomi home, you didn’t act like this. You were proud of me for stepping in.”

Duncan brushed aside this argument with a wave of his hand. “That was different. Her husband had put her up as his stake in a poker game. You kept her from ending up with some gun-running scum.”

“Saronna’s father was desperate to sell her.” The indignation in his father’s voice gave way to a virtuous note. “She’s twenty-two in Standard years, and she’s never been married. A year ago her mother died, and her father stopped looking for a husband for her and tried to sell her. None of the hill men were interested, so he came into the city. You know very well where she could have ended up if I hadn’t made him an offer.”

Duncan cringed. Just when he thought Krueger’s World couldn’t get any worse, he found out he was wrong. “Her own father?”

Vladimir nodded.

“All right,” Duncan said, “if he needed the money so badly, let him keep it. Just send her home with no strings attached.”

His father shook his head. “I can’t do that. If I did, they’d assume she’d been unsatisfactory in some way. If they let her live, it would be as a nameless drudge without any rights.”

“God!” Duncan clutched his hair. “Why the hell did you have to move to this miserable, primitive hunk of rock? What kind of place is this, where men sell their daughters to strangers?”

“It’s Krueger’s World.” Vladimir almost snapped the words out, as if he were losing patience. “And you know as well as I do why I moved Cameron Trushenko here. Krueger’s World is an ideal location for interstellar trading, and when you add in the tax break from operating outside of ThreeCon, we’re in much better shape than we were five years ago. Even your mother approved the move. The combination of New Hong Kong’s taxes and ThreeCon taxes was crippling us.”

Duncan turned away, unwilling to concede the argument. “We’re doing really well now. My two percent of the corporate profits certainly reflects that. Can’t we move back into the civilized universe?”

“Not yet,” Vladimir said firmly. “I don’t know how long it’ll be, either.”

Duncan shot him a skeptical look. “Are you sure taxes and location are the only reason, Dad? It wouldn’t have anything to do with Naomi, would it?”

Again Vladimir wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I won’t deny that the thought that Naomi might not want to leave this planet worries me. However, it’s a moot point for now. We can’t afford to move, and that’s the truth.”

Duncan sighed. “All right, so Cameron Trushenko stays here for a while longer. Is that any reason to go around buying people?”

“Maybe it is,” Vladimir said. “So long as we’re here, we might as well try to make things better for at least one person when we get the chance. If I hadn’t bought Saronna, her father might be walking the streets right now, looking for someone to buy her. As it is, she’s safe and comfortable. I presume you don’t plan to rape her?”

Repulsed, Duncan put a good deal of heat in his voice. “If that’s supposed to be a joke, it’s not very funny.”

“I wasn’t joking at all. I brought her here, and I feel responsible for her.”

“Then why didn’t you just buy her for yourself?” Duncan demanded. “Why did you have to bring me into it at all?”

For the first time, guilt suffused Vladimir’s expression. “Well, I thought about that, but Naomi got very jealous when I mentioned it. She was much happier when I agreed we could find someone for you.”

Duncan snorted with disgust, but Vladimir continued.

“Anyway, fortunately, I could tell Naomi that this woman stirred no twinges of passion in me. She’s not homely or anything, but she’s not in Naomi’s league.”

Somehow his father’s reasoning made Duncan even angrier. “And what the hell am I supposed to do with her?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Vladimir said, his voice as soothing as it had been sixteen years before, when Duncan had broken his arm and cried all the way to the doctor’s. “But it would be nice if you made friends with her. I’m sure she’s a little scared. She may have been brought up to think this was all perfectly natural, but still it can’t be easy to leave your home so suddenly and move somewhere where you don’t know anyone.”

Duncan groaned and resumed his chair. “Good god, Dad. When did you buy her?”

“This afternoon.”

Less than a day. Just his luck to arrive right as the old man suddenly went crazy. “Damn! Do you mean if I’d gotten here last week, I could have talked you out of this nonsense?”

“No, no. I waited until you were coming home, that’s all. Like I said, Naomi was jealous until I told her Saronna was for you.”

Duncan groaned again and covered his eyes. It just got worse and worse. “Will you listen to yourself, Dad? You sound as if you were talking about a house pet. You’ve been here too long, and that’s all there is to it.”

Saronna's Gift 

WORLDS APART launched today! Here's a snippet-- and May the 4th be with you!

My 18th title Worlds Apart is now for sale on Amazon, as both a paperback and a Kindle book!  Here's a snippet from Chapter 2.

Background:  Rishi Trahn is wealthy and powerful but she has no surviving family. While travelling on business she stops at the planet Celadon and goes sight-seeing on the wide-open plains. Her group stumbles across a tragedy in the making as a clan of nomadic herders is being attacked by ruthless bandits with superior weapons. To prevent a massacre, Rishi orders her ship, in orbit around Celadon, to fire on the bandits which kills the leader and makes the rest run away.

After the mess is cleared up, the herders invite Rishi and her staff to a feast in her honor the very next day. The herders all speak Greek, but one young man in the Mercouri clan can translate. His name is Praxiteles. He repeats what his clan leaders say, but no one tells Rishi how potent the local wine is.

From Chapter 2:

“Come, please, lady,” Praxiteles said, holding out his hands in a welcoming gesture, “and all your clan.”

Rishi debated trying to explain the concept of staff, but opted instead to smile and follow his lead.

When they arrived in the middle of the Elliniká encampment, she saw that a series of tables had been set up to form a huge square. A large bonfire had been lit in the center of the square. The combination of firelight and assorted lanterns hanging from poles illuminated the scene well, but the light flickered a good deal. Everything had multiple shadows.

The Mercouri had assembled, but waited by their stools and benches. Rishi decided there had to be at least a hundred people ready to sit down to dinner with her, maybe more. The tables were already loaded with food. It was, indeed, a feast.

Rishi wasn’t certain because she had been busy helping the day before, but she thought everyone looked more formally dressed. Most of the women wore long dresses, although some of them wore trousers underneath shorter gowns. The men wore vests or short jackets over their shirts, and it looked as if every one of them had polished his boots. Almost all their clothes were in shades of white, brown, or gray, but occasionally, a kerchief or a blouse matched the pink or orange of the wildflowers Rishi had seen on the plains. It occurred to her that they must not only sew their clothes but weave the fabrics from which they were made.

Achilles walked her to a seat. They put Hari next to her on one side, with Praxiteles on her other side to translate. Achilles sat across from Hari, and Eugenie sat across from Rishi. Everyone else gathered around and found their places, including several of the Golden Hawk’s crew who had helped the day before. There were a few minor altercations over who sat where, but eventually everyone had a seat. Even some older children were included in the event.

Young women brought around platters of grilled meat, and everyone helped themselves. There were bowls of fruits and vegetables on the tables, none of them familiar to Rishi. Praxiteles took a tiny loaf of crusty bread and tore it in half before taking a bite. Rishi did the same. It was good, although it tasted nothing like any bread she had ever had.

A smiling young woman filled Rishi’s cup with a deep red liquid. Rishi took a sip. It had to be wine, a slightly dry wine, with an almost bitter aftertaste. It was quite nice once she got used to it.

The food was good, and Rishi was soon full. She didn’t want to give offense, but she had to turn away more and more platters as they were offered. At Achilles’ urging, as translated by Praxiteles, she tried a hard, chewy cake that managed to be both sweet and salty and made Rishi very thirsty. She drank more of the red wine.

A young woman stood up holding a stringed instrument with a curved bottom and a long straight neck. She played while she sang what sounded like a very sad song. Rishi leaned her head towards Praxiteles and noted the faint aroma of wood smoke. She whispered for him to translate for her. He bent his head even nearer and told her that the song was about a woman whose mother put her on an island in a river, to keep her apart from her sweetheart. The young man drowned trying to swim to her.

“How tragic.” Rishi felt very strange, not light-headed exactly. It wasn’t that she felt bad. On the contrary, she felt wonderful—happy and lighthearted. She smiled at Praxiteles as she sipped her wine. The firelight gleamed on his hair and made it look like burnished gold. His blue eyes smiled back at her, and Rishi studied him covertly.

After the young woman finished singing, everyone applauded, and she started to play again, a more cheerful song this time. Several men got up and danced to the music. They started slowly, arms linked together, legs lifted in unison, stepping carefully around the bonfire. As the rhythm got faster, their dancing got faster and unrestrained, and the audience’s enthusiasm kept pace. By the time the dancers finished, there was wild cheering. Rishi applauded along with the Elliniká. She felt more than wonderful. She felt that she could do anything she wanted. 

Achilles got up and stood so he was facing Rishi. “Noble lady,” he said, in loud but terribly accented Standard. “We wish to offer to you our most heartfelt thanks for our deliverances.” From the stilted way he spoke, Rishi decided he must have memorized the words with no real idea of what he was saying. He paused, and Praxiteles translated his words into Elliniká. “We want you to know that every man, and woman, and child among us gives thanks to you.” Praxiteles translated again, and there was a murmur among the audience as if they were agreeing with their leader.

“We offer to you our hospitality without condition,” Achilles went on. “If there is anything ever we can do for you, most noble lady, we beg that you will ask us to do it.” Praxiteles translated, and Achilles bowed low to Rishi before resuming his seat.

Rishi decided she should respond. She stood up and bowed back, and then straightened up and surveyed the many faces that all looked at her so respectfully. “I thank you all,” she said, still feeling that wonderful sense of exhilaration, “for making me so welcome. I’m sorry my ship has to leave this evening, or I should be pleased to visit again. You don’t need to thank me.” She waved one hand in an expansive gesture. After all, she could do anything. What were a few lightning bolts to someone like her? “There’s no reason for you to feel indebted to me. It was nothing.”

After Praxiteles translated Rishi’s speech, Eugenie jumped up and spoke rapidly in her own language.

“Noble lady.” Praxiteles translated her comments. “The Mercouri are indeed in your debt. I, the Mercouri, say this, and I beg that you will believe me. We would do anything—give you anything—that you asked of us. If we have it, you have only to speak, and it is yours to keep.”

“All right,” Rishi said, smiling. It was nice that they recognized how wonderful she was. And after all, there were things she wanted. Still standing, she laid one hand negligently on Praxiteles’ shoulder. “Since you insist, I’ll take him.”

THE NAMELESS WORLD has launched!

 

My two-book story THE NAMELESS WORLD has launched! As of yesterday, both books were available in the Kindle story, and the first book, The North Edge of Nowhere, was also available n hardcover. The paperback covers for both books and the hardcover for books, Oaths and Promises, are still being tweaked bur they should follow soon.

This duology is difficult to categorize as it has elements of several genres. It's set in the far future on a colony world unknown to the rest of the galaxy, so it's definitely science fiction. Darius, the protagonist is 17 at the start of Book 1, so you could also call it YA, but the story progresses and by Book 2 Darius is 20, so you could also call it a coming of age story. And while the romance in Book 1 is confined to two important secondary characters, Daniel the Wanderer and Ramons, a physician, in the second book, Darius himself finds love, so you could also label this a romance. 

In the excerpt from book 1, below, we see a scene between Daniel and Ramons. Both of them are outsiders to the culture in which they live, Daniel even more so than Ramona. And both of them have a secret. Daniel thinks he has guessed Ramona's secret; Ramona is quite certain she knows his.

Excerpt from Chapter Two of The North Edge of Nowhere:

Grateful for the chance to think things over, Daniel left the main house before Lord Brian could change his mind. He walked outside and looked up at the sky. The early morning sunshine had given way to gray clouds. This would be Daniel’s third autumn at Castle Muir. He no longer found it depressing to spend days without seeing the sun.

Daniel debated. He needed a workout. The martial arts skills he had mastered years before had earned him a place here, and he needed practice to keep those skills sharp.

But still, the events of the morning had disturbed him, and he wanted some advice.

He walked to the square building with barred windows and a single door, euphemistically referred to as the guest barracks, to see if Ramona was still treating the wounded men. Ramona was an outsider here, too, even if not quite so alien as he was, and he usually found her advice helpful. At least, he told himself, needing her advice made a good excuse to see her.

The guard at the guest barracks shook his head in answer to Daniel’s question; Ramona had left a few minutes before. Daniel made his way to the back of the keep and knocked on her door for the second time that day.

When Ramona’s voice called out for him to enter, Daniel went in. A teakettle simmered on the stove next to the pot of boiling broom herb, and the flowery scent of fresh-brewed tea mingled with the woody herbs.

Ramona sat at her kitchen table sipping a cup of tea as if no untoward event had occurred. She offered tea to Daniel, but he declined.

“Did you hear what happened in the great hall after you left?” he asked.

Ramona rolled her eyes. “Who could avoid hearing it? It’s no small matter to Castle Muir that its lord has found an heir.”

The certainty in her voice surprised Daniel and incited that uneasy feeling he had had ever since he had dragged the red-haired boy upstairs. “Is everyone so sure this boy is really Lord Brian’s son?”

Ramona shrugged. “He looks enough like Lord Brian that Lady Helaina saw the resemblance easily.”

But Lady Helaina had had no supporters until after Ulf had cut the boy’s hair. “Surely whether one person looks like another is, to some extent, a matter of opinion.”

She glanced at him over her cup, rather an appraising glance. “There’s the ring. Basco remembers Lord Brian getting whipped for coming back from Antwerp without it. So did old Berta. Lord Fulke had told her the ring was from the time when we came to this place in silver ships.”

Daniel blinked. No one had ever made any reference to space travel in his hearing. Still concerned with the rightness of his own actions, he let that subject drop. “That proves that Lord Brian gave the ring to the boy’s mother. It doesn’t prove he’s the boy’s father.”

“The boy said the ring was his grandfather’s. His mother must have told him that it was. Besides, he has red hair, just like the old Lord.”

It sounded convincing, but Daniel’s conscience still pricked him. Lord Brian had made a decision from which there was no appeal, and no one else seemed to feel a need to question it. “Lots of people have hair that color.”

Curiosity ripened in Ramona’s expression. “Why should you care?”

Daniel took his time in answering. He had no fear that she would carry tales, but on the other hand, it was difficult to solidify his unease into words. “I held the boy down,” he said at last. “I was doing my job, but I was also helping take this boy away from his mother.”

Ramona stood up and reached for a long-handled spoon to stir her boiling liquid. “You brood about things no one else cares about. If this boy is Lord Brian’s son, then he has a right to him.”

Either on purpose or from inattention, she was missing the point. “But what if he isn’t?”

Busy with her potion, she spoke over her shoulder. “Don’t let it worry you. He is.”

“How can you know for certain?”

She turned her gaze back to him for a second. She glanced at the floor, then shot him a look from under her brows. She hesitated a moment, as if she were debating, and then she put down the spoon. She sat down again, folded her hands around her teacup, and looked straight at Daniel as she spoke in a low clear voice. “The way that you think I know.”

Daniel stood frozen and tried to gather his wits. He had never thought she would speak so plainly. He met her look with his own steady gaze, and they stared at each other for a few moments.

Finally, Ramona took a sip of her tea, staring into the dark surface as if it held the answer to a mystery.

Daniel opted to go for broke. He put both hands on the table and leaned over so that his face was close to hers. “If you know my thoughts, then you know what I’m thinking now.”

Ramona put her cup down. “I know.”

“Well?”

She stood up. Daniel backed up, but she took a step closer to him. She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

Relief flooded Daniel. He took her in his arms and kissed her hungrily. After a few moments, Ramona pulled away.

Daniel’s relief evaporated. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a moment.” She stepped to the stove and moved the pot of liquid off the fire, then came back to take his hand. “Not here. Someone might come in.” She pulled him with her through the doorway into the small bed chamber that was the only other room in her house. Before Daniel could say anything, she had shut the door and slid the bolt into its socket.

A snippet from HIDDEN MAGIC

Snippet from the middle of Chapter One 

Background: Garrick Willyun is the Lord of Cold Spring and is waging a war to unite all the manors of the valley of the River Wystan under his leadership because he is convinced the neighboring city-states intend to invade the valley. He recently defeated Richart Tallengen, the very young Lord of Esterby, in battle, and he holds him and some of his men prisoner at Cold Spring Castle. Richart's older sister Maura has come to Cold Spring to see her brother. The snippet begins a few hours after her arrival..

---------------

GARRICK flinched as he buttoned his newest shirt. The stiff collar pinched. There came a knock at the door. “Come.”

The door opened to admit Osmund Radulf. The steward bowed. “You asked me to report to you, my lord, after the young lady had seen the prisoners.”

Garrick sat down to pull on his boots. “Yes, yes. Come tell me how it went.”

“She was happy to see them all, my lord,” Osmund said, coming farther into the room. “There was one young man in particular—I believe he was the son of the older woman who accompanied her—that she embraced very heartily.”

The thought that the woman of his choice might already have made a choice of her own annoyed Garrick considerably. “How old is he?”

Osmund coughed discretely. “I should say that he was about your own age, my lord—a very striking man, with black hair and blue eyes.”

Garrick couldn’t hold back a frown as annoyance grew to anger. If she were truly attached to this man, it could be an obstacle.

Osmund cleared his throat.

“Yes?” Garrick said.

“If I heard correctly, my lord, the man asked his mother to convey his regards to his wife and children.”

Relief set in. “And there was no other she favored?”

Osmund held out his hands expressively. “Not that I could observe, my lord. She was concerned with each of them—she made note of messages for wives and parents and other loved ones—but she herself didn’t seem unduly attached to any of them.”

His way stood clear, then. “Excellent! And she’ll be at the supper table?”

“Yes, my lord.” Osmund flinched just slightly. “Provided you don’t object to the presence of her companion. She was quite firm that she would go nowhere without the other woman.”

Garrick reached for his waistcoat. “I have no objection.”

Osmund’s shoulders sagged with relief at this acquiescence. He bowed again and left Garrick to finish dressing.

A few minutes later, after one last glance at his own reflection, Garrick left his room. He met his mother on the stairs and offered his arm. 

She cast a skeptical eye over him as she took it. “Why are you taking all this trouble for a captive lord’s sister? Are you hoping to use her to win her brother over?”

Garrick smiled and cast a glance over his shoulder to be sure no one was in earshot. “Not at all. In fact, I mean to marry Maura Tallengen.”

His mother’s arm went rigid under his hand. “What?”

“I mean to marry her.” Garrick patted her arm. “It’s time I found a wife, and she has everything I need in a consort—brains, strength of will, and courage.”

Lady Quilla blinked and shook her head. He had never seen her so stunned, not even when his father died. One hand went to her mouth as she struggled to compose herself. “You’d do better to find someone else. You have too much of a handicap with this woman.”

“Perhaps,” Garrick said as they descended the stairs. “But I don’t think so. Once she understands my goals, she’ll come around.”

“You’re assuming,” Lady Quilla said, her dry tone sounding more like herself, “that she’d be willing to devote her life to the same cause you espouse. You’re not offering her employment, you’re proposing marriage.”

“That’s why I don’t intend to say anything to her yet.”

His mother’s eyebrows lifted in a skeptical frown. “And how will you court a woman who lives almost at the other end of the valley? Even in high summer you can’t get to Esterby in less than a day of hard riding.”

Garrick had already thought this out. “I’ll have to be certain I make a good impression on her before she leaves here. And I’ll have to win over her brother. Once he’s my liegeman, it should be easier to control the logistics of the situation.”

She gave him an appraising look. “Are you quite certain, Garrick, that it’s her brains you admire so much?”

Garrick laughed as they went down the last steps. “Now, Mother, you taught me yourself that the best goals are those that satisfy more than one ambition.”

Hidden Magic on Amazon

ALIEN BONDS, a story that works on two levels #MFRWhooks

 

My novel Alien Bonds is undeniably a love story. It concerns two people, a human woman and a Wakanrean man, who meet at the beginning of the story on his world, called Wakanreo, and instantly mate from a  biological reaction that occurs only in Wakanreans. But even though Dina goes home with Kuaron that night, she does not love him.. You cannot love someone you don't know. It is over the next several months that her love for him grows, as does his for her. But at the same time, the story explores the culture and history of Wakanreo. It's an attempt to show what a world would be like if looks didn't matter—if people had no choice in who they paired off with. and thus sex had nothing to do with morality.  How would this uncontrollable mating affect the societies that formed on this unique world? In human history, much of the stratification of society was achieved by people only marrying within their own social order. What if it wasn't possible to enforce that kind of discrimination? 

Read the book to find out! Alien Bonds  is available in paperback and on the Kindle, and it's free in Kindle Unlimited. 

Excerpt from ALIEN BONDS:

The Wakanrean stood in front of her. He glared down at her, his face contorted into a scowl, his amber eyes glowing with contempt.

“I beg your pardon.” Dina tried to keep the quaver out of her voice. “Do I know you?”

He was so close, she could feel the heat from his body. Either that, or the room had gotten suddenly warmer. Dina felt herself flush from head to foot.

He didn’t answer, but all at once it was as if his anger was a physical thing, an invisible mass, pushing against her. She stepped backward, stumbled, and almost fell.

She reached for the mezzanine railing behind her, and in the same instant, the Wakanrean grabbed her arm.

Dina froze, utterly baffled. The orientation had said clearly that Wakanreans would always avoid touching a Terran, and yet here was one not only touching her, but holding her firmly by the arm and helping her to stand.

The orientation had also failed to warn her that a Wakanrean’s touch was so warm it almost burned. Dina could feel a flush of heat on her arm where his hand still gripped it. She stood straighter and looked into his face. He had typical Wakanrean features—an arched nose, large round eyes, a wide mouth.

His expression changed as she watched. His anger faded to confusion. He looked almost stunned. His nostrils still flared, but from the way his eyes had opened wide, Dina knew he was surprised rather than angry.

Neither of them had taken a step since he took hold of her arm. Dina swallowed once, conscious of discreet glances and overt stares from those around them.

“I’m all right,” she said finally, wondering if she was speaking the truth. The dizziness had passed, but she still felt lightheaded. “Thank you, but you can let go now.”

He loosened his grip but didn’t release her for a few seconds. When he did, he brushed her bare arm with the back of his hand. Dina was amazed when it sent shivers of anticipation up her spine.

“This is unexpected.” His wonderfully resonant voice had a rich, warm timbre to it that made Dina’s shivers change from anticipation to yearning.

“Yes,” she said, unsure of what he meant, but afraid to give offense.

“Where do you live?”

“I have an apartment in the off-world sector,” she said, wondering why she was answering him. She fought the urge to close her eyes and just listen to that wonderful voice.

“My house is in the cliffs outside the city. Let’s go there instead.”

“All right.”

It took Dina a moment to realize that she had agreed to go home with him.

Snippet from TRIBES

The start of Chapter One:

The scorpipede crawling up Hob’s foot tickled, which seemed odd for something so deadly. The boulder behind Hob warmed his back as he watched the insect’s dark red body undulate, rippling its skirt of silver filaments. The tickling sensation intensified. The scorpipede held its barbed tail high as it reached the peak formed by Hob’s sandal strap across his instep.

Hob debated moving his foot.  If he did it abruptly enough, the thing would almost certainly stab him with its venomous tail.  Hob’s death would be painful but quick, and Andre would probably never find his body.  He would think Hob had escaped him, and that would be a victory of sorts, even if Hob wasn’t alive to see it.

Hob lifted his head to stare out at the flat reddish-gray expanse of desert, broken only by an occasional cluster of white-flowered calla trees and the distant remnants of an old road. Here and there where the pavement was still intact, smooth puddles of water tempted Hob, vanishing when he turned his head. The deceptive shimmer in the air above the road told him the water was only a mirage. 

He had been walking for four days, and the mountains were nowhere in sight. He could sit here and die slowly, or jerk his foot and die quickly. Or he could keep walking and hope that he made it.

The scorpipede flowed down Hob’s sandal and onto the sand, still ruffling its filaments in its quest for survival. After several seconds, Hob could no longer distinguish the insect from the red-gray landscape. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He was a long way from anywhere. Probably he could have made it this far from Agra in a few hours if he’d had a skimmer. As it was, he had nothing but his own two feet—and even his feet weren’t much good with the damned manacle Andre had locked on his ankle after his first escape attempt.

Hob bent his right knee so that his ankle was close and studied the bright blue band. Its smooth seamless surface, a stark contrast to the bruised and scabbed-over skin around it, seemed to mock him. He had given up smashing the thing with a rock once it was clear he would break his ankle before he would break the manacle. He groaned as he stretched his leg out again. There seemed to be no position where he could hold his foot so that the plastic didn’t touch him, and anywhere it did throbbed with dull agony.

Hob tried to lick his cracked lips, but his mouth was too dry. He shut his eyes and thought about water. Cool, clear water. He let out another groan. Thinking about water only made him thirstier. He sighed and squinted at the sun, a bright golden ball still high in the cloudless blue-green Mariposan sky. Time to get moving. He had let the scorpipede go, so he had to keep walking.

He pulled himself to his feet, feeling the full heat of the sun on his shoulders as soon as he moved out of the meager shade of the dead mara tree, the only mara he had seen so far. He limped across the dry stream bed, keeping the road on his right, hearing no noise beyond his own footfalls and the stirring of a faint, hot breeze.

He had just started to replay the text of his favorite adventure story in his mind when an abrupt, distant sound interrupted his thoughts. He glanced around, surprised, and saw nothing. The noise grew, and he realized it was behind him. He turned and saw a small shape growing rapidly larger.

It was a plain gray skimmer, nothing like Andre’s flashy red model or the large traveling vehicles Hob had seen a few times in the last few days. It was headed north, following the old road, moving fast in spite of its small size. 

Hob sprinted as fast as he could run to the nearest calla tree. The gray skimmer was less than a hundred meters away when he ducked behind the calla. He pressed against the branchless bole, ignoring the sharp stench of its flowers and the prickles sticking into him, right through his pant legs. His heart raced. Had they seen him? He held his breath as the vehicle flew past at only a meter or two of altitude.
The skimmer looked not only small but battered, with a distinct bend in one of the struts. After it passed him, Hob drew in a deep breath, then let it out with a whoosh of relief.

A second later, the skimmer banked, turned back, and circled toward his calla tree. Hob scrambled to keep the tree between himself and the low-flying vehicle, tearing his pants on the spiny bristles as he maneuvered to stay on the opposite side of the bole. They must have seen him. Why else would they turn?

The skimmer hovered for a second, then set down between Hob’s tree and a cluster of large boulders. After a moment, the pilot’s door opened and someone in a blue shirt got out. Hob pulled back, his heart thumping in his chest. He wouldn’t let himself peek again. No, no! He wouldn’t go back. He couldn’t go back.

“Anyone there?” 

It was a woman’s voice. She sounded unsure but hardly fearful.

The muffled thud of footsteps on sand came closer. “Is anyone there?”

Hob held his breath. What could he do? Even if she didn’t try to make him go back to Agra, she would likely tell someone she had seen him. On the other hand, she had a skimmer. If he could get to the skimmer first, he could get out of the desert. He had to get to her vehicle before she did—no matter what it took.

Hob gathered his strength and let his need take over. He lunged from behind the calla tree, straight at the woman. She was closer than he had expected, and she swung a weapon at him. A sharp pain stabbed Hob’s right shoulder as he jumped at her, but his desperation made him keep going. He knocked the pistol out of her hand and grappled her to the ground.

They rolled back and forth. Hob knew some slave quarter tricks, but none of them helped. Her fists punched him; her hands clamped his wrists; her feet kicked his legs. Hob dodged as her knee came up at his groin. Finally, frantic, he managed to get his hands around her throat and started to choke her. 
She croaked at him. “Look down!”

Just as he glanced down, he felt the tip of the small knife she had pressed against his heart, saw his own blood drip red onto her blue shirt.

He let go. It was over. He was a slave again. He could feel his eyes trying to tear up, but they were too dry to manage it.

When she pulled away he saw the tribal mark of two crossed swords on the side of her neck. Alone in the fucking desert and the only person to find him was a fucking Han-Lin! Whatever good luck he had had in his escape had evaporated like the morning dew in the calla flowers.

The Han-Lin retrieved her laser pistol and waved it at him. “Get up!”

****

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