Tag: Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

In this scene from Surrender Love, Izzorah had been tossing and turning in bed, wound up over meeting Luc Saint-Cyr, the head of the company where his band would sign a five-year contract. Terrified he'd make a mistake and reveal he was unworthy, he flings himself out of bed and gets into the shower. The hot water has relaxed him, and he's indulging in a favorite fantasy...

Is this my warrior?

Humans thought Kin males were all big predatory cats. Alphas.

Maybe in those vids they advertised to human females, but not in real life. Not on a world where males were property and warriors were female.

Izzorah slid a hand down his chest, over his pelt, down his abs, imagining himself as property of a predatory alpha...

A human male gripped both wrists and pinned Izzorah to the wall like a trophy. "What are you doing, my young Kin? Are you fantasizing?"

Snarling, Izzorah released claws and bared fangs, but the human stayed beyond reach. It was dark, and none of the man's features showed. Against this kind of strength and at such an angle, he had no defense. He forced his claws from their sheaths but couldn't reach skin. He growled, twisting. It hurt his wrists, and he yelped.

"Easy. Stop thrashing and I won't hold you so tight."

With abrupt resignation, Izzorah ceased fighting. He sheathed his claws, looking up with a submissive smile. Open. Trusting. Giving.

"That's much better." The human gentled his touch, loosening his gloved hands. "I won't hurt you." A whiff of mint revealed the man's amusement, but there was no cruelty. The man meant him no harm. "You have nothing to fear from me."

Baked bread with cinnamon wafted into the air. Contentment. Few knew how to hide emotion from a Kin. No one hid it from Izzorah.

Naked, helpless in the human's hands, he shivered despite the heat roaring through his body. He lowered his ears in submission, his gaze down in respect. One did not meet a warrior's gaze without permission and what was this human if not a warrior?

He would be safe with this man.

"Hands above your head." The man's deep voice sounded the way velvet felt on the fingertips. He slid Izzorah's hands upward. It opened him and arched him toward the human. "Look at me."

He obeyed, a cross between fear and desire making him pant.

In this scene from Surrender Love, Izzorah is on the run. He's the drummer for a famous rock band, but he terrified of heights -- with a capital T. When the group entered into the Nizamrak Building, tallest on the planet, Izzorah took two big steps back and ran. Now he's trying to figure out where he is, which is difficult, because he can't focus on anything farther away than his own fingertips.

Running Away

How far? How far? Izzorah swallowed, fighting to control his stomach and vanquish his fear.

It was just after dawn and the open air and distant bounce of sound meant he was in a clearing with no people-scents. The assistive device embedded in his stud earring made a soft tink, showing the directions he'd requested were active. A brief hum meant forward and he walked in that direction.

A high-pitched ting for an upcoming turn sounded, followed by a low tong. He turned left. Another turn warning came, then a low pong and he turned right. The hum kept him going straight.

The short, tinny plink that came next meant he'd arrived and the low pong meant the door was on the right. He fumbled for an entry panel until he realized the door had sensed him and opened. Trace levels of human scent meant people had been here but had gone.

"Welcome to the Bank of Tarth," chimed a genderless but pleasant electronic voice. The buzz-clink in his earring meant the bank's AI had connected with it. "Automated tellers are available now. How may we serve you?"

"Washroom, please."

"Gender-oriented restrooms are at each end. The central restroom is neutral. Straight ahead, then right after the main console."'

His earring directed him to the washrooms with no difficulty. Once inside, he bolted into a stall. He barely had time to lock the door before his stomach revolted against the meager breakfast he'd eaten.

He'd refused food until Kory insisted, claiming they had a big day with important people to see and places to go. Which was why Izzorah had tried to avoid eating.

Once he'd caught his breath, he opened the stall door. "Where's the sink?"

His earring hummed, and he took a few steps forward. White against dark showed him the shape, and he rinsed his mouth, then splashed water on his face.

He pulled off the earring and dried it, fastened it back. Not for the first time, he wished he'd had one while crossing Felidae on his bid for freedom. He'd covered half the planet on horseback. Unable to see stars or horizon, he'd depended on sunrise and sunset, an old compass, his wits, memory, courage and above all, the stubborn horse he'd had since he was a teen. Purkinje wouldn't have liked it in the empire, but his four-legged friend had gotten him across Felidae and saved his life. For that, Izzorah would always be grateful.

A plain silver dot that hooked to his ear might get him places, but it didn't keep him company or carry him. It couldn't shade him when he napped, and he couldn't sleep next to it for warmth on a chilly night.

What it could do was get him back to the hotel before the guys found him. Probably. Hopefully.