Teaser Reveal for VICTOR by Brenda Rothert

Today we are sharing a chapter reveal of VICTOR by Brenda Rothert. This is a contemporary romance, standalone, and it is the third title in the Chicago Blaze hockey romance series. It will release on July 16th and you can preorder your copy now!

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Victor by Brenda Rothert

Coming July 16 | Chicago Blaze, #3

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Book Blurb

He’s a hockey star with a headboard full of notches. She’s a shy NHL concession worker at who’s never been kissed.

Lindy

They don’t call me Belinda Boring for nothing. It’s my name, after all. And for a 23-year-old with plain brown hair who still lives at home and gets tongue tied over nothing, it’s a fitting one. I’m not even one of those quiet girls with a hidden talent, unless making a mean order of nachos at the NHL arena I work at counts. My life consists of working, reading and harboring a secret crush on a hockey player who doesn’t know I exist. At least, until we accidentally meet and become unlikely friends.

Victor

I’m living the dream. A poor kid who worked his way into the NHL, I’ll never forget where I came from, though I try to. My past follows me, a nagging reminder that I’ll never be what everyone thinks I am. As the threat of my secret being exposed looms closer, my game slips, leaving me in danger of being cut from my team--the only family I have. I’m losing my hold on everything when a new friend helps me find hope. She’s nothing like the women I’m used to, but by the time I figure out that’s exactly why she’s right for me, I’ve lost my chance with her. Somehow, I have to convince a woman who thinks she’s invisible that she’s the only one I see.

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CHAPTER 2

Victor

I’m maintaining eye contact with the fat cat telling me about his latest business conquest—smiling and nodding on cue. But truthfully, I’m way more interested in the small plate of spicy meatballs I’m eating as he talks.

“There’s a sucker born every minute, and I’m always ready to swoop in and make money off their stupidity,” Bill Something or Other says, giving me a plastic grin.

I nod and grab the toothpick spear of another meatball, popping it into my mouth.

“Hey, can I get a selfie?” Bill asks, setting down his drink. “You’ve been playing like total shit lately, which means you’re on the verge of a big comeback. I want the world to know I called the resurgence of Victor Lane.”

I pass my plate to my teammate Easy, who meets my gaze for a split second and conveys everything I’m feeling right now.

Fuck this guy. He’s just a rich asshole with a big mouth and a small dick. Big talker, but he’d shit his pants if an NHL enforcer even looked at him across the ice.

“Absolutely,” I say, returning Bill’s grin.

Playing along, I wait until he’s taken a selfie he’s pleased with. He moves on to mingle with other Blaze players and Foundation contributors, not even signing off with us.

“Food’s good, at least,” Easy says, clapping me on the shoulder as he returns my plate.

“Yeah, I could eat about a hundred of these meatballs.” I say.

“I’m supposed to make a joke here, right?” My teammate cocks a brow at me in question.

I let out my first genuine laugh of the evening. It’s not so much that what Easy said was funny, it just reminds me I’m not the only one who feels out of place here.

I’m a poor kid from Canada turned NHL player. There’s a lot of money and power at this level of the sport, which I was lucky to even get to play. It was only because of a scholarship program that I learned hockey as a seven-year-old. That program paid my way until I was a high school player who landed a full college scholarship. Hockey’s in my blood, but wealth still seems foreign.

But Easy? He’s a well-spoken French Canadian black man born Erik Zimmerman who had never touched a hockey stick until high school. He gave up a promising career as a model to join the NHL. Easy’s got an innate gift for the game, and though he’s not a natural brawler, he’s coming along. He’s also one of only a few black players in the league.

“Um…” a soft voice says next to us.

My gaze shifts from Easy to a woman holding a tray of drinks beside us. She’s waiting for us to take something, I think.

“Ah, perfect.” I reach over and get a bottled beer. Easy does the same.

“Thanks,” I say, just as Easy is saying, “Merci”.

I take a long first sip of the beer, savoring the taste of the ice-cold drink. Across the room, my teammate Anton is talking to a well-dressed couple, his girlfriend Mia beside him. Our goalie Jonah and his wife Lily are there, too, smiling at the story Anton’s telling.

Anton’s like a brother to me. He’s one of the few people I always know has my back. And even though he’s been at the top of his game for a while now, he just recently came into his own when he and Mia got together. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him, and he deserves it.

But me? Bill was right, I have been playing like shit lately. My linesmen, Anton and Luca, have been holding me up. There are a couple smug as shit sports writers who enjoy saying publicly that I haven’t been the same since I got dumped by Kristen Moore.

“You’re not still moping over that actress, are you?” Jackson Moon booms as he approaches me and Easy.

I return his grin and do my best to return his bear hug despite the empty plate and nearly-full plate I’m holding. Jackson’s a retired Blaze enforcer I really like. He’s old school, his nose crooked and his smile veneer. But that’s why he’s beloved to every Blaze player and fan—he spent his career putting his body on the line to protect his team.

“I ain’t moping over shit, you old asshole,” I say warmly.

“Good. Plenty more where she came from, right?”

“Hell yeah.”

“You boys going out after this?” Jackson looks between me and Easy.

“You buying?”

I can only maintain my serious expression for a second. Jackson punches me in the shoulder, and while it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t not hurt. Retired or not, this guy’s a bear who could probably still take me down—6’4” and burly as a lumberjack.

“Of course I’ll buy,” Jackson offers.

I shake my head. “I was joking, Moon. Yeah, we’ll go out with you.”

“I can’t, actually,” Easy says. “I have to do a thing for the front office.”

“Next time,” Jackson says to Easy. He looks at me. “You and me, then, kid.”

I smile and hold my beer up in a gesture of approval. But really, I just want to go home after this. I feel like being alone in my apartment, maybe ordering some takeout and catching some baseball.

Easy’s ‘thing for the front office’ is most likely dinner with the team owner and his family. I used to get invited to all those things. But with the way I’ve been playing lately, I guess I’m no longer a favorite. Easy’s a second line forward. My spot on the first line has never been in greater peril.

“Jackson Moon.” A guy in a well-cut suit approaches us, his eyes lit up as he shakes hands with the Blaze legend. “It’s an honor. I’m Cain McMillan. I remember watching you play with my dad and grandpa.”

“Great to meet you, Cain,” Jackson says.

“We were actually at the game in ’98 when you and Trainor had that epic fight. The one where your head was injured. Man, all that blood on the ice…and you got back up! I’ll never forget it.”

“Yeah, that one hurt a little,” Jackson says wryly.

“Hurt Trainor a lot more than you, though.”

Jackson nods as Cain grabs a beer from the tray of a passing server, and Jackson does the same. Kevin Trainor wasn’t just hurt in that fight—he was never the same. After the doctors thought he had recovered, he came back to his team, but he’d lost so much ground that he couldn’t contribute. He got injured again and ended up retiring young.

That’s one of my fears these days—getting hurt so badly that I’m out of hockey for good, and going out on this note—with my numbers in the toilet and my job on the line.

No one would guess I’m thinking about that, though. I talk hockey with the guys, meet some hospital patients who were able to come to the event since the foundation is raising money for a Chicago children’s hospital. I sign jerseys and pucks, smile for pictures and represent my team well. Even though I feel like an imposter, I don’t let it show.

When people start heading out, I see that Easy is leaving with our team owner and his wife. I don’t begrudge him that, Easy’s a good guy. But it does burn to see Anton and Luca going with them.

So that’s what this is. A test run of sorts, to warm Anton and Luca to the idea of having Easy on the first line instead of me. I exhale deeply, frustrated by this turn of events even though I brought it on myself with my shitty play.

“Hey, man.” Jackson claps me on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

I nod.

“Let’s go blow off some steam,” he says, chugging the last of his beer.

I take out my phone to check the time, my pulse racing when I see the waiting text.

We need to meet tonight. You have one hour to call or text back.

Fuck. It’s been a few months since I got one of these messages, so I can’t say I’m surprised. Tonight of all nights, though. I’m already feeling like shit, and now I have to deal with this.

“Hey, Jackson, I’m sorry, but something just came up that I have to take care of.”

“You’re blowing me off?” He grins. “It better be a booty call, Vic.”

My single note of laughter holds no amusement. “I wish. It’s nothing fun.”

“Okay. No worries, bro.”

“Can we do it tomorrow night instead? Dinner and drinks?”

He considers. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Great. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Jackson’s expression turns serious. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

We say our goodbyes, and as I take the stairs down rather than the elevator to avoid the crowd, I loosen my tie and sigh, glad the social part of my night is over. Now I have to meet up with the only person in this world I hate. But at least there won’t be any false smiles, or pretending like everything’s great.

I am okay. I’ve been through worse than this. But fuck, I just got cheated on and dumped in broad view of the entire Internet. The headlines were merciless and the photographers relentless. It would be nice if my career could nosedive in a slightly less public way.

Nice, but unlikely.

 

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AUTHOR INFORMATION

Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.

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Chapter Reveal for When You Were Mine by Jordan Marie

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I loved a boy.


Gavin Lodge.


He was sweet, gentle, kind and he made me feel alive.


Letting him go was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life.


A hundred times I wished I had done things differently.


A thousand times I wished I had gone with him.


A million times I wished he had chosen me.


I didn’t. Neither did he.


Now he’s back.


No longer a boy, but a man.


I can’t love him.


It almost destroyed me once and I won’t let that happen again.


That should be the end of it.


And maybe it would have been…


If someone wasn’t trying to kill me...

Gavin

I can see her standing there. I’m maybe ten yards in front of her, but it might as well be a million miles.

Luna Marshall.

The woman that has haunted me for years. The woman I left behind to start over. I’m sure she hated me back then. Hell, even now, thirteen years later, she probably still hates me. I can’t blame her. I hate myself for leaving her.

I don’t want to, but I take a step toward her.

And then another.

It actually becomes automatic, my body moving without me telling it to. Of course, whenever I got near Luna, gravity seemed to pull me to her. That apparently hasn’t changed through the years.

She’s maybe ten feet in front of me now, and I can see her so clearly that it’s a little painful.

Luna hasn’t changed much over the years. Her body has filled out more, matured, rounded from girl to woman. Her golden blonde hair is shorter, falling just to her shoulders. Some things always remain the same though. Even over the crowd, I can hear her voice. It’s as soft and sweet as I’ve always remembered.

“Gavin Lodge! Is that you?”

I see the exact moment that Luna hears my name. She looks up and it’s all written there on her face.

Shock.

Fear.

Anger.

Hurt.

Thirteen years and still every bit of that is written on her face. Thirteen years is not enough to make her forget.

To make either one of us forget.

“That’s me, Wally. How in the hell are you?” I ask, pulling my gaze from Luna to look at the man I once considered my best friend.

“Doing good,” he says, stepping back and his arm loosely goes around Luna. Her body language reads stiff, but after a moment she relaxes. “Just had my second child,” he says.

That feels like a fucking sucker punch. Wally and Luna? I never saw that coming. I would have never guessed it and it feels bitter in my gut.

“Luna, how are you?” I ask.

I’ve been alternately dreading this moment and looking forward to it. I’ve definitely been dreaming about it, but those dreams have turned into nightmares on more than one occasion.

“Gavin. We heard you were coming back into town.”

“Yeah. I go where the case takes me,” I tell her and it’s not a lie, I do. I just never planned on it bringing me full circle—never planned on it bringing me to Luna’s doorstep.

“It’s still hard to believe you’re an FBI man,” Wally laughs.

“Been one for a lot of years,” I tell him. “I hate like hell that I have to be in Stone Lake for work, though.”

That’s the truth.

The God’s honest truth.

“I heard that. I hope you manage to get them, before they strike again.”

I say nothing. There’s not much to say to that. Everyone knows why I’m here. This serial killer has garnered national attention for months. He’s created havoc in three states and we still haven’t caught him. I never dreamed he’d end up in Stone Lake, but then I’ve never had the best of luck.

“You’re looking good, Luna,” I tell her. It’s a stupid thing to say, but I can’t not say it.

Her body jolts. I see it before she takes a second to lock it down.

“I’ll see you around, Wally,” she says not bothering to reply to me. “Tell Meghan to call me.”

“Will do, honey. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she says. Then, she surprises me by turning around to look at me. “Goodbye, Gavin.”

She walks away like that, with her head held high and I let her go, because I fucking lost the right to ask her to stay thirteen years ago… when I was the one to walk away.

“You two aren’t married?” I ask Wally, because that’s the one thing my brain latches onto during their exchange.

“What? Oh hell. Not at all. Luna would get a kick out of you saying that though. Her and my Meghan are close though.”

“Meghan?”

“My wife, you probably don’t remember her. She went to school with us, but didn’t hang around with the same crowd. Her and Luna have grown close, especially since our kids are in school together.”

The hits just keep coming. This one harder, more intense, and the burn nearly cripples me.

Luna has a child.

I knew it would be a possibility, but I didn’t want it. Years of experience keeps my voice steady and my face void of any reaction.

“Luna has a kid now. Hard to believe,” I rub my face, wishing I didn’t know. That will be another small piece of knowledge that will haunt me long after I leave Stone Lake in the dust.

“Yeah, Josh is a good kid, too. Luna and Attie did good.”

“Attie?” I ask, the name squeezing something inside of me that I thought was frozen a long time ago.

“Yeah. Fuck. You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Attie… Shit, man.”

My brother. Atticus. Luna and my brother. I thought the other blows were bad, but this one is harder than all of those combined and they don’t hit me…

They rip through me.

“I didn’t know,” I tell Wally and I don’t think I keep emotion out of my voice this time. I can’t.

“Her and Atticus were living together when he died. I can’t believe you didn’t know,” Wally says, not realizing he just lodged the punch that has enough power to bring me to my knees.

“You remember my brother and I didn’t get along. I didn’t bother to stay in touch with him once I left,” I tell him, leaving it at that.

“That’s tough, man. I guess I just assumed that changed with age. Though, I knew you didn’t come to Atticus’s funeral, but we all heard how you were in the hospital. They said you almost died.”

“Over exaggeration,” I answer, completely lying. I touch the scar on my side—the one that almost killed me. The one that I was glad was there, if only because it gave me an excuse to stay away from Stone Lake back then. It’s also the one delivered by the very serial killer I’m here to catch. Life, it seems, is big on irony.

“I better get, Wally. I need to report to the local police department in the morning and introduce myself. Then, I need to start hunting this asshole and see where the clues take me.”

“Yeah. Uh… Gavin, there’s something you might should know, man.”

“What’s that?”

“Luna Marshall is the Mayor of Stone Lake,” he says.

The hits just keep coming…

I should have known. I read briefly through the file and there were press clippings released by the local mayor. For some reason, Mayor Marshall and Luna Marshall didn’t click together.

This is not good news. I don’t deal well with bureaucracy and I knew just reading through the file I’d be expected to work with the Mayor closely.

My plan had been to avoid Luna while I was here.

So much for planning….

A QUIRKY WRITER GOING WHERE THE VOICES TAKE HER.

USA Today Best Selling Author Jordan Marie, is just a simple small town country girl who is haunted by Alpha Men who talk in her head 24 hours a day.

She currently has 14 books out including 2 that she wrote under the pen name Baylee Rose.

She likes to create a book that takes you on an emotional journey whether tears, laughter (or both) or just steamy hot fun (or all 3). She loves to connect with readers and interacting with them through social media, signings or even old fashioned email.

Twitter  Facebook  Web Goodreads  Amazon

Chapter Reveal for A Taste Of Submission

Welcome to the lands of whips, chains, and ecstasy…

and the first night is free.


A Taste of Submission


THIS IS A COLLECTION OF FIRST-IN-SERIES BOOKS

FROM 12 OF THE HOTTEST AUTHORS AROUND.

THERE’S DOMINATION, SUBMISSION, PLEASURE,

AND PUNISHMENT IN EVERY OFFERING.

GET A TASTE OF EACH OF THEIR WORLDS

AND SEE IF YOU’D LIKE TO STAY AWHILE…




If you’re a fan of hot Doms and sexy subs, we have great news for you!.


12 erotic romance writers have joined forces to bring you this collection of the

FIRST BOOKS in their steamy BDSM series.


We have USA Today and international bestsellers, Golden Flogger Award Nominees and Winners, and Amazon Bestsellers all giving you a taste of their best work.


Whether you like your BDSM dark or light, or you’re a fan of contemporary or sci-fi, there’s something here for everyone. And if you enjoy what you read,

you can find the rest of the series at your favorite online bookseller.




A Taste of Submission introduces you to a dozen hot BDSM series by:

C.P. Mandara

Felicity Brandon

Golden Angel

Kallypso Masters

Lilah E. Noir

Linzi Basset

Nia Farrell

Normandie Alleman

Pandora Spocks

Ree L. Diehl

Renee Rose

Skye Callahan

So you have to ask yourself...

Is it HOT enough for you?

Zandian Breeding season.

That was the last consideration in his mind before liberating his planet from the Finn.

Breeding season.

Zander sat at the round platform, studying the faces of the elders he respected most, the ones who had risked their lives to save him when the Finn invaded Zandia and wiped out the rest of their species solar cycles before.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious,” Daneth, the only Zandian physician left in the galaxy said, tapping his wrist band. “You are the best male representative of the Zandian species, the only one left of the royal bloodline, and, more importantly, the only one young enough to produce healthy offspring. If you go to battle without first procreating, our species will die with us.” He gestured around the room at the other members of his parents’ generation.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in exasperation. “And exactly which female do you think I will produce these offspring with? Last I heard, there is no Zandian female under the age of sixty left alive.”

“You will have to cross-breed. I purchased a program and entered your genetic makeup. It uses all the known gene files in the galaxy to predict the best possible mate for breeding.

He raised his eyebrows. “So have you already run this program?”

Daneth nodded.

He glanced around the table, his gaze resting on Seke, his arms master and war strategist. “Did you know about this?”

Seke nodded once.

“And you approve? This is foolish. My time should be spent training with the new battleships we bought and recruiting an army, not...” He spluttered to a stop.

“The continuation of the species is paramount. What is the point of winning back Zandia if there are no Zandians left to populate it?”

He sighed, blowing out a breath. “All right, I’ll bite. Who is she? What species?”

Daneth projected an image from his wrist band. The image of a slight, tawny-haired young female appeared. “Human. Lamira Taniaka. She’s an Ocretion slave working in agrifarming.”

A human breeder. A slave.

Veck.

Zander didn’t have time for this excrement. “There’s been a miscalculation.” He waved his hand at the hologram.

“No, no mistake. I ran the program several times. This female bested every other candidate by at least a thousand metapoints. This female will produce the most suitable offspring for you.”

“Impossible. Not a human. No.” Humans were the lowest of the social strata on Ocretia, the planet where his palatial pod had been granted airspace.

“I realize it seems an unlikely match, my lord, but there must be some reason her genes mix best with yours. The program is flawless.”

“I thought you might suggest someone worthy of formal mating—an arranged marriage with royalty of another species. Not a breeder. Not a pet.” Humans were not mates, they were slaves to the Ocretions. An inferior species. He hadn’t had much to do with them, but from what he understood, they were weak, fragile. Their lifespan was short; they did not recover easily from injuries. They spread disease and died quickly. They lacked honor and fortitude. They lied.

Zandians—his species—never lied.

“I was not seeking a lifemate for you—I found the best female for producing your offspring. If you wish to find a mate, after you have bred, I will search the databases for the female most compatible to your personality and lifestyle preferences. But this is the one you must breed. And now, during the traditional Zandian breeding season.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. The breeding season didn’t matter. For one thing, they weren’t on Zandia—weren’t affected by her moons or her atmosphere. For another, he wouldn’t be breeding with a Zandian female coming into cycle.

But Daneth was like a sharkhound on a hunt—he wouldn’t stop until the stated goal had been reached. He’d been his father’s physician and had served on Zander’s council as a trusted advisor since the day they’d evacuated Zandia during the Finn’s takeover. Zander had been only fourteen sun-cycles then. He’d spent the last fifteen sun-cycles working every day on his plan to retake his planet. He’d settled in Ocretia, where he’d amassed a small fortune through business and trade, making connections and preparing resources, training for war.

“I will take care of everything. I will purchase her and bring her here until you impregnate her. Once it’s done, you can send her away. I’m certain you’ll be satisfied with the results. The program is never wrong.”

“She’s human. And a slave. You know I don’t believe in keeping slaves.”

“So set her free when she’s served you.” Lium, his tactical engineer spoke.

“A slave will have to be imprisoned. Guarded. Disciplined.”

“She’s beautiful. Would it be such a hardship to have this woman chained in your bedroom?” This from Erick, his trade and business advisor.

Beautiful? He looked again at the holograph. Dirt covered her hands and cheeks, her unkempt hair pulled back and secured at her nape. But, upon closer inspection, it seemed Erick was right. She was pretty—for a human. Her tangled hair was an unusual copper color and wide-set green eyes blinked at the imager that had captured her likeness. A smattering of light freckles dusted her golden skin. She wore drab, shapeless work garments, but when Daneth hit a command to remove the clothing and predict the shape of her naked body, it appeared to be in perfect proportion—round, firm breasts, wide hips, long, muscular legs. His horns and cock stiffened in unison.

Veck.

He hadn’t had that reaction to a female of another species before. He’d only grown hard watching old holograms of naked or scantily clad Zandian females from the archives.

For the love of Zandia.

He didn’t want a human. He wanted the impossible—one of his own species, or, if not, then a female of a species that was on the same level as his own, not inferior.

“Why do you suppose her genes are best? What else do you know about her?”

“Well, there’s this.” Daneth flashed up a holograph of a human man, dressed in combat gear, a light ray gun in his hand, blood dripping from his forehead. “He was her father, a rebel warrior who fought in the last human uprising before her birth. He may even have led it.”

“Hmm.” He made a noncommittal sound. His species were warriors. Why would he need the human genome for that? “What about her mother?”

“Not much to be found. She’s still alive—they’re together now, working on Earth-based plant and food growth production. Keeping their heads down, is my guess. The data about her father isn’t in the Ocretion database file. My program gene-matched to give me that information. I’m surprised the Ocretions don’t do more gene study.”

“I’ll probably split her in two the first time I use her. Humans aren’t built for Zandian cocks.”

“The program can’t be wrong.”

He sighed. “Is she even for sale?”

“No, but you are highly esteemed royalty and the unofficial ambassador from Zandia. I’m sure she can be purchased for the right price.” Daneth referred to his position on the United Galaxies. Since the Finns were not recognized by the UG due to their genocidal practices, Zander served as the Zandian ambassador. Not that it did much good. No one on the UG was willing to put their resources behind him to overthrow the Finns.

He made a grumbling sound in his throat. “Fine. But don’t spend too much. Our resources are needed for recruiting soldiers.”

“Your offspring are top priority. Even over the war plans,” Seke said. The male didn’t speak often, and when he did, it always had a definitive ring to it, as if his was the last and only word.

“As you wish. I’ll breed her. But if she doesn’t survive the first coupling, her death is on all of you.”

Daneth chuckled. “Humans aren’t that weak.”

~.~

Lamira crouched beside the row of tomato plants and flicked a bug off the leaf before anyone saw it. The Ocretion foremen always wanted to spray the plants with their chemicals at the first sign of any bugs, even though it had been proven to harm the plants.

Her stomach rumbled. She longed to pluck just one juicy tomato and pop it into her mouth, but she’d never get away with it. She’d be publicly flogged or worse—shocked. The fresh Earth-based fruits and vegetables they cultivated were for Ocretions. Human slaves had to live on packaged food not fit for a dog.

Still, her life was far better than it might be in another sector, as her mother always reminded her. They lived in their own tent and had little contact with their owners after working hours.

It might be worse. She could be a sex slave like the sister she’d never met, her body used and abused by men every day. After the Ocretions took her sister, her father had led a human uprising, which had resulted in his death. Her mother, pregnant with Lamira, had been picked up by slave smugglers and sold to the agrifarm. Her mother had been careful to hide her beauty and taught her to do the same, keeping mud on her face and hair and wearing clothes too big. They hunched when they walked, ducked their heads when addressed, and kept their eyes lowered. Only in their own ragged tent did they relax.

“You, there—Lamira.” A guard called her name.

She hunched her shoulders and lifted her head.

“The director wants to see you.”

Her heart thudded. What had she done? She was careful, always careful. By the age of seven her mother had taught her to distinguish what was real—what others knew—and what was claircognizance. She’d learned to keep her mouth shut for fear she’d slip up and say something she knew about someone without having been told. Had she made a mistake? If she had, it would mean certain death. Humans with special traits—anything abnormal or special—were exterminated. The Ocretions wanted a population they could easily control.

She dropped the bushel of tomatoes and walked up to the main building, showing the barcode on her wrist to the scanner to gain admittance. She’d never been in the administration building before. An unimpressive concrete slab, it felt as cold and dreary inside as it appeared from the outside. One of the guards jerked his head. “Director’s office is that way.”

The gray concrete floors chilled her dirty bare feet. The director was a fat, pasty Ocretion female with ears that stuck straight out to the sides and cheeks as paunchy as her belly. Beside her sat a male of a species she didn’t recognize.

“Lamira.” The director said her name, but didn’t follow with any instructions.

She stood there, not sure what to do. She tried for a curtsy.

The humanoid male stood up and circled her. He stood a head taller than a human, but unlike the doughy Ocretions, he was all lean muscle. Tiny lines around the outsides of his eyes and mouth told her he might be middle-aged—whatever that meant for his species. Two small horns or antennae protruded from his head. “She’s in good health?”

The director shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

The male lifted her hair to peer under her ponytail. He lifted her arms and palpated her armpits. His skin was purplish-peach, a nice hue—an almost human color. His interest in her seemed clinical, not sexual, more like a doctor or scientist.

“What is this about?” she asked.

The male raised an eyebrow, as if surprised she’d spoken.

The director touched the fingertips of her four-fingered hands together. “They are not house-trained, the humans we keep here. They’re mainly used for outdoor agricultural work.”

House-trained. What in the stars does that mean?

He cupped her breasts and squeezed them.

She jerked back in shock.

“Stand still, human,” the director barked, picking up her shock-stick and sauntering over.

Lamira froze and held her breath. She hated the shock-stick more than any other punishment. She’d heard if you got shocked enough, permanent paralysis or even death may result. In her case, she feared she might say something she shouldn’t while coming out of the daze from it.

“I’ll take her. We’ll require a full examination to ensure her good health, of course, but if everything seems in order, I will pay for her.”

The director folded her arms across her chest. “Well, we weren’t planning to sell her. I understand Prince Zander has a lot of influence with the United Galaxies, but—”

“Two hundred steins.”

Her breath caught. Surely they weren’t negotiating for her—for her life? What about her mother? Her plants? She couldn’t leave.

“Three hundred fifty.”

Her head swam and she swayed on her feet. No. This couldn’t be happening. Her claircognizance should have warned her about this, but it never worked in her favor— only told her meaningless things about other people. A true curse.

“Done.” The male punched something into his wristband and a beep sounded on the director’s handheld communication device.

The director glanced at it and smiled. “When do you want her?”

The male gripped her upper arm. “I’ll take her now.” He bowed. “It was nice doing business with you.”

She swung around to meet him, terror screaming in her chest. “I can’t—wait—”

The male ignored her, pressing a device to the back of her neck.

She felt a sting before everything went black.

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR RENEE ROSE is a naughty wordsmith who writes kinky BDSM novels. Named Eroticon USA's Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won The Romance Reviews Best Historical Romance, and Spanking Romance Reviews' Best Sci-fi, Paranormal, Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite couple and author. She's hit #1 on Amazon in multiple categories in the U.S. and U.K., is often found on the list of Amazon's Top Author list. She also pens BDSM stories under the name Darling Adams.

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