MFRW Archives - Page 9 of 14

Khyff is ready to bolt #SciFi #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 07/03/2019 Science Fiction Romance 5 Comments

Ready to bolt

As usual, Khyff's master hadn't allowed him to eat until he'd met his quota. First up: shower, clean clothes, food. Not necessarily in that order. He kept a few stale crackers hidden in his room for emergencies. He'd satisfied his last client, and was unscheduled the rest of the day. Or at least the next six hours. Khyff made a bolt for freedom.

"So you're an Antonello."

The way the client said it drew Khyff's attention. This particular client was one of the less odious. He didn't grab or cling, he was--thankfully--clean, and he tipped well. Still, the guy was paying for sex and Khyff had no choice. Being a pleasure slave meant you serviced the clients sent to you, or you suffered for it. In Khyff's case, refusing meant risking prison.

He would never go back there, no matter what they made him do here.

Khyff clenched his teeth and pasted on a smile. "Pardon?"

"Your last name." The guy continued getting dressed, seemingly in no hurry. "It's Antonello, right?"

"Why?"

"I never noticed before. It's right here on my receipt." He picked up his mobile and turned the screen toward Khyff. "I mean I've been here what... five times now?" He poked at the screen. "Whoa! Seven. Huh. I should have a free visit after three more."

Khyff choked back a retort. His master was giving away free visits with him? It would take hundreds of client visits to earn enough in his Freedom Savings Account so Khyff could buy himself. If his master was giving him away, it would take forever.

Khyff jerked open the door, determined once more to bolt and run.

"You don't look like the other one."

Half a step into the hall, Khyff's heart stuttered. He made a slow pivot. "Other one?"

"The other Antonello. You look different."

The world went silent. Khyff came inside, shut the door and leaned against it. "So I'm sure I heard right. You know another Antonello."

"Yeah. I saw the name, and figured you had to be related. Antonello's not common. Not on Kelthia. I'm guessing you don't have much family here."

Good guess. More than three quarters of the world's population was black-skinned. Khyff had blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin.

Could this be a link to his missing mother? Did the client know her? Khyff fought the hope that rose within him. It had been how many years? No, he would not allow himself to hope. When you hoped, people could hurt you more.

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Six and Pietas Perform the Ritual of Strength #SciFi #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 06/19/2019 Cosplay 2 Comments

Six and Pietas "pretend" the Ritual of Strength

"We should have cut your hair before we set out." Six rummaged through his kit, which held all his belongings when he'd been abandoned on this world. Little more than survival gear.

Pietas tossed back his hair. "I never cut it except in ritual."

"I know." Six withdrew a boning knife used for it. Before every battle, Pietas performed the solemn rite to affirm superior strength and prowess. Six had been the first human to see it carried out, albeit the first half from a distance while hiding. He stood. "Maybe you could perform it now."

"How like you to see the easy solution. But there are a few elements missing. No fire. No water. No mask." He gestured toward the oncoming storm. "No time."

"Haven't you ever heard of pretending?"

"One cannot 'pretend' a ritual."

"What a boring childhood you must've had. Why not?"

Pietas opened his mouth to answer. Shut it again.

Six lifted one eyebrow. "Do you want to go into that dark hole and meet up with your people without performing it?"

"No, but there's no time."

"Rain's coming." Six jerked a thumb toward the forest. "Like I said, you have to go in there or you won't reunite with your people. Are you going to stand out here making excuses, or do this?"

"Ghost, this ritual is important. It deserves respect."

"Blah, blah, blah. That storm is bearing down on us." A few drops of rain splattered them both. "See? Or maybe you'd rather have your sister help you with your hair every morning."

"Fine!" With a resigned sigh, Pietas capitulated. "How do you propose we 'pretend' my ritual?"

Six tucked the knife into his belt and held out his cupped hands. "This is fire."

Pietas hesitated.

"Come on, Pi." Six wagged his cupped hands. "This stuff is hot."

"Of course it is." A smile slipped onto his face and refused to leave. "It's pretend fire. That's the hottest kind."

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The Dragon Dagger and the Ritual of Strength #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 06/12/2019 Fallen Empires 1 Comment

The Dragon Dagger

Dessy picked up the dragon dagger and twirled it. "You should let our people know you still do this ceremony. They'd be impressed by your devotion."

"I don't do it to impress anyone. I do it to ready myself for-- Stop!" His sister had been sliding one fingertip along the edge of the blade. He removed the dagger from her grasp, and examined the edge.

"Honestly, Pietas! I was just testing the sharpness."

"I didn't want you to cut yourself."

"I'm as adept with blades as you. More so, if you ask me."

So like Dessy to miss the point. "If you'd cut yourself, I'd have to consecrate it again. It can only have my blood or my enemy's."

"You think I'm witless? As if I haven't performed this ceremony with you a hundred times. And here I thought you were concerned for my well-being."

"Stop playing, Dess. I told you, I'm busy."

She let out a harsh sigh. "Fine. Let's complete the ritual."

Dagger in hand, Pietas unfastened the clip in his hair, and let it fall. The wet tail slapped the middle of his back. He tossed the clip aside, placed the dagger on his palms, and offered it.

She poised her hand above it. "Who offers this weapon?"

"First Conqueror, War Leader of the Ultras."

She took it from him. "For whom are you willing to suffer?"

"I suffer for my people." Pietas turned his cheek.

Dessy slid the dagger tip along his face, from cheekbone to chin, drawing a thin trail of blood. "For whom do you bleed?"

"I bleed for my people." By the time the first drop of blood had risen, the cut had healed, leaving no scar.

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Light blared like a blast of horns #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 06/05/2019 Fallen Empires 11 Comments

A Blast of Light

The infernal, cheerful whistling began again. Pietas tried in vain to escape the sound. Shackled at the ankles, hands bound behind him, he remained flat on his back. There were no comfort choices inside his pod.

No. Not his pod. He would never claim such a place.

The prison pod. The nightmare pod. A casket for the living.

Would that whistling never end?

Whoever guarded him whistled, night and day. He must have lips made of steel. How a human kept that up day after day was beyond him. Or perhaps... Did an Ultra guard him? Had one of his people come to free him?

Pietas opened his mouth to call out, and clamped it shut.

If it were one of his people, he needed to wait for them to act. They would do so when the time was right. For now, he suffered bouts of agony as feeling returned to his hands and then left in repeating cycles. His metabolism healed him, but brought pain. He focused on that, accepted the pain, welcomed it, and examined every step of its journey through his body. What one understood, one could bear.

An Ultra does not seek to escape pain. If one inflicts pain, one must bear it. Pain must be borne. Pain is a warrior's ally.

He hovered in a nightmare-filled, windowless, endless monotony of thirst and hunger.

Punctuated with unending lilts of bouncy, alert, happy, chipper whistling.

At first, he'd welcomed the sound. The rising and falling notes broke the tedium of everlasting darkness. It stopped for brief periods, but began again soon after.

He'd considered calling out and asking them to stop. He had gone so far as to open his mouth. But asking implied weakness. He acknowledged no tool of torture.

Beg mercy from humans? Never.

This was not stasis. Stasis meant cessation of thought. Of emotion. A dreamless kind of sleep. The end of awareness. A not-time.

They'd frozen his people in these pods, but they'd imprisoned him.

Or perhaps his blood ran so hot, no human force could freeze him.

The tune changed.

For the love of all that's holy, will you shut up!

Blessed silence fell. But then light blared in his face like a blast of horns.

What fresh perdition was this? They'd tortured him with darkness. Now they'd torture him with light?

Pietas tried to force his eyes open, to face the torture, but after so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes. He twisted his head to avoid it.

"You-- you're awake?" The startled voice hovered close, muffled by the pod. "Security! Security! Prisoner Six-Six-Six is out of stasis! I say again, Prisoner Six-Six-Six is out of stasis!"

The alarm in the male voice gave Pietas a measure of pride. Even imprisoned, he engendered fear. They had taken away his name, and given him a number that among humans meant a demonic beast.

Let the legend of Pietas--by name or by number--bring fear straight into the heart of man. No... let it bring terror.

The alarmed voice led him to another thought. Had they not known he was awake? No. These vile creatures had readouts of every type. How could one mistake his beating heart and steady breath for anything other than wakefulness and life? They meant to keep him aware and suffering. They knew.

But whoever was guarding him hadn't. Pietas might hate humans, but he knew the difference between genuine alarm and fake fear. He'd been instigating the real thing for centuries.

Interesting. He could use that.

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he focused on the face hovering over the small window above him.

Was that...Ghost Six?

The light cut off, taking with it the familiar comfort of sight. Pietas bit the inside of his cheek to keep silent.

First Conqueror, War Leader of the Ultras, did not beg.

He did not. He did not.
---

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What a real thief looks like #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 05/29/2019 Science Fiction Romance 4 Comments

Royal District, Royal Arms Hotel Suite 1221

NarrAy tipped the hotel android and tucked the note he'd delivered into the pocket of her robe. "Senth?" She walked back into the bedroom, heard water running, and poked her head inside the bathroom. Steam frosted the glass-enclosed shower. "Senth, honey, there's a--Whoa!"

Senth was pressed against the glass from his firm buttocks all the way up to his shoulders.

NarrAy gulped against a rush of pheromones. "Uh, there's a...a note."

"What?" Senth stepped away from the glass and came to the opening, both hands in his soapy hair. "I couldn't hear you, sweetie." Shampoo bubbles trickled down his upraised arms, onto his shoulders, and down across his chest. Senth's nose wriggled. He'd done that several times during the night, inhaling her scent.

It shot a tinge of warmth down her. NarrAy cast off her robe and stepped into the shower, right into Senth's slippery, soapy, slick, sexy, and open arms.

* * *

Senth initiated a prescheduled holophone link to Saint-Cyr from a conference room on the third floor of the hotel, far from NarrAy's presence. When a chime announced his Sen'dai was at last online, Senth stood.

Saint-Cyr's image sparkled into being before him.

Senth made a deep bow. "Good morning, Sen'dai."

"You're late." The Harbinger motioned with one hand. "Turn around, slowly. I want to look at you."

Senth obeyed.

"So this is what a thief looks like who thinks he's independent of his Sen'dai."

"Sir?"

"Don't play coy with me, Senthys." Saint-Cyr seated himself. The background of the room did not appear, nor the chair he used. His image floated. "Sit down. We need to talk."

"Yes, sir." He pulled a chair away from the table and plunked himself in it.

"And sit up straight."

Senth bristled, but he straightened in the chair.

"Now what is this about Ms. Jorlan not being satisfied?"

She had seemed satisfied when he'd left the room. Senth coughed to mask a grin. "We discovered that the item we recovered indicated there's a related item with more significance."

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Body to body closeness #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 05/22/2019 Science Fiction Romance 4 Comments

In this scene, NarrAy shows Senth the room they will be sharing.

All People's Liberation Army Ship Vandal Officers' Quarters

Though still carrying the marks of an Imperial Armada cruiser, the Vandal and its crew had switched sides. Senth followed NarrAy down a corridor painted dull gray. Far from the luxury of the sleepliner, this ship had been stripped to basic military starkness.

"Why is everything lit up with red?"

"It's on night ops. Red makes it easier for the eyes to adjust to darkness, and you can still distinguish everything." NarrAy opened a hatch, and stepped through into another corridor.

"We use red for night work in the Guild, too." Senth waited while NarrAy closed the hatch behind him, and then followed her again.

"Let's see, cabin number... Ah, here we are." She unlocked a door, and he followed her inside.

Encie and Broxus had brought Senth's and NarrAy's bagbots with them, and both bots waited in the room, inactive. The tiny cabin sported a chair, a drop-down desk, and a garment rack with a few cubbyholes under it. A mirror covered the back of the door. One bed--a double.

Senth's cheeks burned in remembrance of the last time he and NarrAy were alone near a bed.

NarrAy gestured around herself. "Like it? This is our room."

"We're...um...both in here?"

"Mmm hmm." NarrAy backed him against the door and set a hand on either side of his waist. "This cabin is for accompanied officers."

"A-accompanied?" Unsure where to put his hands, Senth put them behind him.

"Accompanied." She traced a finger across his chin. "Meaning with someone."

"Oh." His mind churned, fighting for intelligent words, but failed. All he could see was the bed. And NarrAy. Right there, up close, next to him, breathing the same air.

NarrAy put one of her feet between his and leaned against him. Body to body. All the way from his calves up to his waist. Even through his clothes, her warmth soaked into him. Her scent bloomed like warm sugar cookies coming fresh from the oven. Vanilla. Butter. Sugar.

Senth breathed her in, and the scent took him back to his childhood, but the touch of her, the warmth of her, rocked him down to the core as a man.

NarrAy pressed her fingers against his lips.

Senth held his breath as NarrAy watched the progress of her fingers. She drew them from his mouth to his chin, down the front of his throat, and stopped where his cloak fastened.

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My characters may be found in multiple books in my story universe. Pietas images Nik Nitsvetov as Pietas cosplay.

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Beautiful bad boy #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks #MFRWauthor

Kayelle Allen 05/08/2019 Science Fiction Romance 7 Comments

Mehfawni tapped Khyff nose and sat up. "I want to take you out to dinner. In Tarth City, surely there is always food ready somewhere."

"I know plenty of places." Alitus had told him to prepare to be spoiled. Kin females were accustomed to being in charge. Khyff hadn't mentioned he was used to women paying his way. They liked to flaunt him to their friends and display him like a new charm on their wrist bracelets. Look what I bought.

"Somewhere quiet." Mehfawni folded her legs, elbows on her knees. "I don't wish others to gawk at you when you're with me."

Again, the unexpected.

She gave a slight sniff. "Gawk is not the word? I know Etymis from classes."

"Gawk is correct. You speak Etymis flawlessly. Hardly an accent at all."

"I don't say b's right."

"Bees? Buzzing bees?"

She giggled. "Letter b's. We have no b in Felis."

"You say them fine."

"Not like humans."

"Say something b-ish."

"B-ish?" She wiggled her nose, sniffing. "This is a word?"

"Sure it is. I made it up."

Mehfawni laughed.

Khyff absorbed the sound of her voice as if it were water on the dry sponge of his soul. It filled him with joy until he thought he'd burst. Having her there beside him, laughing, enjoying time with him...he could scarcely take it in.

"B-ish. Hmm." She tapped a claw against her full lower lip. "Bed. Beautiful. Boy. Beautiful bad boy." Her hot gaze raked down him. "Beautiful bad boy in bed."

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Go home. This is your last chance #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 04/30/2019 Kayelle Allen 8 Comments

Ravenstongue sauntered toward him. "Why you here?"

Tornahdo kicked back in his chair. After stretching out his legs, he crossed his ankles. "Why do you care?"

"Big ops tomorrow. Lights out in ten. Time for you to go home and go to bed."

Behind the bar, the keeper closed up shelves and battened down doors.

"Yeah?" Tornahdo flicked a hand toward the door. "I'll follow you out."

"I'm not leavin'. Didn't you hear? We passed inspection with the highest scores. Got a free night out." Ravenstongue jabbed a finger toward Tornahdo. "But you gotta go home like a good boy."

In no kingdom in the galaxy would that happen.

Ravenstongue lifted two fingers, signaling his cohorts.

The keeper ducked behind the bar while the goons flanked their wannabe boss, imbecilic grins in place.

A pair of demons usually sat on Tornahdo's shoulders. The bad demon laid out strategy while the good demon discouraged action. Tonight, the good demon flipped a middle finger toward Ravenstongue with a not-so-subtle suggestion to kick his ass.

Tornahdo took his time rising, slid his chair under the table. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'You gotta go home like a good boy.'"

Hanging his thumbs in his belt, Tornahdo gave him a slow smile. "Go back to the bar, finish your drink and we'll pretend we're all friends and leave together. This is your last chance for a peaceful end."

"Peaceful." With a scoff, Ravenstongue jerked his head toward Short Goon. "You hear that?"

"Yeah. Maybe we oughta do what--"

Ravenstongue jabbed him with an elbow.

"I mean, yeah! I heard that." He leaned closer to his boss. "We gonna?"

"No, you idiot. Shut your face and back me up."

How did these hotheads enlist? Ghost Corps must have been desperate for bodies. Literally. A fighter's corpse they could reanimate. Which was a sobering thought.

Was that what the corps thought of him?

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

He can save mankind. After he does one important thing. Die.
Join the Ghost Corps, they said. You'll live forever, they said. You'll save mankind, they said. They didn't say that to do it, first he had to die.
When Tornahdo signs on the dotted line, he puts his life into the steady hands of the mighty Ghost Corps. Three grisly deaths and three agonizing resurrections later, he's assigned duty on the space station Enderium Six.
He's facing his most dangerous mission yet, the very reason the corps exists.
Do they expect him to win? Fat chance. Tornahdo and his team are already dead and this mission is codenamed "Lights Out." No, there's more to this than he can see.
To discover the truth, he must face an unbeatable, unkillable enemy, and this time--somehow--find a way to keep himself alive...
Lights Out is in the Science Fiction/Space Opera anthology The Expanding Universe Vol 4, edited by Craig Martelle out Sept 17, 2018
https://kayelleallen.com/lights-out-save-mankind/

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What is Stress: Not being allowed to throttle an idiot #Humor #MFRWhooks #SciFi

Kayelle Allen 04/24/2019 Fallen Empires 4 Comments

What is Stress? Working with idiots...

WordWeb says you can define stress as difficulty that causes worry or emotional tension. Such as having a boss who's a jerk, or a coworker who's lazy or... well, you get the idea.

In today's post, a snippet from Lights Out, the hero is having a bit of stress...

In this scene, Tornahdo has been chewed out for something that in the regular army would have gotten him a commendation. Even a medal. But Ghost Corps is not regular. Not one bit. He sits down to have a drink and calm himself down, but one thought leads to another.

Tornahdo's family believed him missing in action. He couldn't go out in public. Ghosts got call signs, not new identities. He'd earned his by the way he fought, which, according to those who'd been resurrected with him, was a tornado.

"No, he's Hispanic-Terran," one had said. "He'd pronounce it different. We'll call him Tornahdo."

To which he'd offered a sweeping bow. "Sí. Gracias."

If taken prisoner, the enemy wouldn't find out who his family was, or who other ghosts were. Like any cover story, the more you lived it, accepted and believed it, the more solid it became. He was Tornahdo. Every minute. Every day. Right now, he fought the urge to kick into full tornahdo rage and slam through a certain officer's quarters. On his desk, his former commander had a framed quote, hand-stitched by his wife.

"Stress: the body's reaction to not being allowed to throttle an idiot."

How many times had the man shouted that Tornahdo was stressing him out? More than he cared to admit.

But today, he knew exactly what that quote meant.

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

He can save mankind. After he does one important thing. Die.
Join the Ghost Corps, they said. You'll live forever, they said. You'll save mankind, they said. They didn't say that to do it, first he had to die.
When Tornahdo signs on the dotted line, he puts his life into the steady hands of the mighty Ghost Corps. Three grisly deaths and three agonizing resurrections later, he's assigned duty on the space station Enderium Six.
He's facing his most dangerous mission yet, the very reason the corps exists.
Do they expect him to win? Fat chance. Tornahdo and his team are already dead and this mission is codenamed "Lights Out." No, there's more to this than he can see.
To discover the truth, he must face an unbeatable, unkillable enemy, and this time--somehow--find a way to keep himself alive...
Lights Out is in the Science Fiction/Space Opera anthology The Expanding Universe Vol 4, edited by Craig Martelle out Sept 17, 2018
https://kayelleallen.com/lights-out-save-mankind/

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How odd that idBot never sees Luc #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 04/17/2019 Fallen Empires 4 Comments

The façade fooled anyone who lacked entry codes.

Senth pressed his palm against the lock plate and the idBot security system scanned him. Locks clicked open.

Not a sound in the house, and when Senth checked the security panel, it showed the staff had gone for the day. No one home.

"Riiight." That reading meant the Man was here, because idBot never saw him no matter where he went. How he managed that was beyond Senth, but hey--the guy owned the company, right? Must be nice. Whatever this was about, Saint-Cyr wanted privacy for it, which couldn't be good for Senth.

He swept off his cloak and hung it on a peg. "Hi, Daddy, I'm home!"

Luc Saint-Cyr rounded the corner. Built like a towering god of war, his father filled the small entry.

Senth took a step back.

Saint-Cyr's impressive height forced Senth to look up in order to meet his gaze. Solid-black eyes made the black-skinned man resemble a giant bird of prey, and he had all the warmth of one.

"I am not Daddy, Senthys. We've discussed this." Saint-Cyr adjusted a white cuff on his dark business suit. "If you must use a familial term, use Father."

"Been thinking about changing it to Pops." Senth rocked on the balls of his feet.

His father about choked. Those black eyes narrowed. "You most certainly will not. I have asked you to--"

"Yeah," Senth interrupted. "And I've asked you to call me Senth. Not Senthys."

"Nicknames lack dignity."

"Father sounds like a priest. Which you aren't."

Saint-Cyr took one step closer.

It took all Senth's considerable will not to back up, look away or otherwise submit. How many people wilted before that black-eyed gaze? He swallowed, focusing on the reflections of light in the man's glassy stare.

If he held on for a few more seconds...

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Tag: MFRW

Khyff is ready to bolt #SciFi #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Six and Pietas Perform the Ritual of Strength #SciFi #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Six and Pietas "pretend" the Ritual of Strength

Watch Pietas perform the Ritual

Origin of Pietas

Forged in Fire

The Dragon Dagger and the Ritual of Strength #SciFi #MFRWhooks

The Dragon Dagger

Watch Pietas perform the Ritual

Origin of Pietas

Forged in Fire

Light blared like a blast of horns #SciFi #MFRWhooks

A Blast of Light

What a real thief looks like #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks

Body to body closeness #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks

Antonello Brothers

Beautiful bad boy #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks #MFRWauthor

Go home. This is your last chance #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Go Home

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

What is Stress: Not being allowed to throttle an idiot #Humor #MFRWhooks #SciFi

What is Stress? Working with idiots...

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

How odd that idBot never sees Luc #SciFi by Kayelle Allen #MFRWhooks