Every book has to have a bad guy you love to hate. Meet Vulf from Death and Roses. Even his name sounds nasty. Hope you absolutely hate him ;D Don’t forget that links to the other marvelous authors are after the excerpt!
“Is it done?”
“Yes sir. Captain Tanil has been terminated sir.”
“And the data?”
“It was not recovered, sir. Tanil did not have it on his person or aboard his ship. However, the secondary mission was accomplished. The deserter, Dr. Carl Sabbo, has been terminated. He was alone in the dwelling. Female attire was found in one of the rooms.”
“Was it hers?”
“Doubtful. The clothing was for a much larger female than the SS specimen Dr. Sabbo stole from the labs. The reports that the soldier died in the escape seven years ago may be accurate after all. That SS was known to be meticulous in appearance and surroundings. The room where the female clothes were found was nothing short of chaos, and not of our making. She doesn’t appear to have been here.”“
The man on the other end of the communication winced at the clipped, non-feeling tone in the voice that relayed the information. The soldier reporting the task he’d carried out was beyond calm. It was damn disconcerting. Then the man remembered just what he was dealing with, not bothering to complete the thought of whether the soldier was man or machine. It was a state of the art Gen10 SS. Methodical. Ruthless. Unemotional. Almost fanatical in his need to complete an assignment with as much bloodshed and madness as possible. Just as he’d been bred and trained to do.
“Very well, RE-5512SE. Just arrange for Sabbo’s body, or what’s left of it, to be found by the right people.”
“Yes sir. Over and out.”
“One moment, soldier. Who fired the shot?”
“KE-0V217, sir.”
“Thank you. That is all.” Vulf disconnected the call and practically skipped to the door of his office.
Finally the thorn in his side had been nipped. Too bad Dr. Sabbo had to be the excuse to get Tanil to the farthest reaches of the empire just so the Captain, or former Captain, could be quietly put down. Tanil would be missed. After all, he’d been one of the best tactical specialists the Interplanetary Military Forces had ever produced. Now he was nothing. Killed clean and quick.
Vulf made a mental note to send a condolences vid to Tanil’s parents.
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No wedding, NO womb!
A brilliant movement started by Christelyn D. Karazin
Visit Beyond Black and White, for thoughtful, funny and down-to-earth talk
Why am I supporting this blog around the world? Because although I was married when my children were planned and conceived, I ended up a single mother anyway. Now some would say, well what’s the point of getting married if you’re going to end up raising your children on your own anyway? Marriage isn’t my point, not really. Children are my point.
Children need both sexes to thrive. And not just both sexes, but well-rounded parents. In my case, after our divorce the ex-husband was perfectly happy to walk away from our children. I had to find surrogate dads – luckily I had single and married friends who didn’t mind taking my son golfing, to play ball, do Boy Scouts, go snowboarding, camping, etc. Friends came to graduations for both my kids when the sperm donor wouldn’t show up. They came to plays and dances, football and volleyball games. In short, regardless of how strong I am or how educated, I couldn’t do it alone. Period.
While women are full of love and natural nurturers, if we were all that was needed to have and raise a child, then there would be no need for sperm. God knew what he was doing when he made men and women to need and complete each other. Can you be happy single? Absolutely. But planning to be single typically means there is no plan for children.
Why do children need their fathers? First, I can’t teach my son to be a man. Why not? Because I’ve never been a man, I have no idea what it means to be one and to be honest, I have no desire to be a guy. Second, my daughter needs to understand what a good relationship with a man looks like so she can tell the difference in her own relationships.
Black male-to-female relationships are at the heart of this issue. Our teen girls are told through the media that they’re supposed to go to a club as skanky as they wanna be with no consequences. Meanwhile, the young men are supposed to rope in as many women as he can while not being committed to any of them.
But when it comes to the real consequences of lax sexual attitudes, the result is 48% of black women have herpes, and more than half have babies out of wedlock. Those are sobering statistics which lead to even worse stats in store for our children.
Why do we put more planning into our next vacation than we do into planning our families? And why are we willing to accept less than what we want when it comes to ‘the ring’? The answer- because black women are fed the “you’re not worthy of a good guy” crap from a young age. It’s rare that black girls, in general, are made to feel special.
When I was growing up, in school there were the ‘special girls’ and the rest of us were worth almost nothing. We were lucky if guys were interested in us at all. We were expected to settle for being skeezers and taking whatever we could get. The ‘special girls’ had lighter skin than me and they were perceived to follow the standard of beauty set forth by society or MTV while girls like me didn’t fit that standard.
I was called black dog, pitbull, ugly, big nosed, nappy head, etc. And when people learned that I was a book worm, got good grades in school, and graduated early then I was told I was trying to be white. And none of that came from outside of the black community. It all came from so called family and friends.
Now how the hell was I supposed to grow up as a well-rounded woman able to make good choices and understand my worth when my own community was setting me up to fail? It’s a good question, isn’t it? There’s a lot to be said for constant subliminal bombardment, both inside and outside of the black society.
When a person’s color is the topic of conversation rather than their accomplishments, then that tells us a lot.
Gabourey Sidibe (pronounced Gah-boo-ree Si-deeb) the gorgeous star of the movie ‘Precious’ made the Elle magazine for October 2010. They made 4 different covers to celebrate this actress, yet there is controversy behind the magazine’s photos. Why? Because anyone who saw Precious knows that Miss Sidibe has very dark, beautiful smooth skin and dark hair, yet the photos show both a few shades lighter than her natural tones (see photo here). But why the need to make her look more ‘acceptable’ as if who she is isn’t good enough?
What the hell?
So back around to the dating thing – Don’t buy into the stereotype. That goes for black men AND women.
Currently there are horrifying statistics regarding our young black men. New York Times columnist, Bob Herbert said, “The Schott Foundation for Public Education tells us in a new report that the on-time high school graduation rate for black males in 2008 was an abysmal 47 percent, and even worse in several major urban areas — for example, 28 percent in New York City.” Read entire articlehere.
Black homes account for $850 billion of revenue via spending, per year. Yes, you are worth something. You are more influential than you think. See past the bullshit and learn to respect yourself. Respect for yourself is not putting others down or lashing out at someone else. Respect for yourself is learning who and what you are, the blessings you are entitled to (without the ‘tude) and being grateful.
There’s a big difference between ego and self-esteem.
In the end when it comes to children, it’s not about your ability to be a good mom. It’s not about who you are as a woman. It’s about what’s best for the children that we bring here. It’s about knowing how to provide a emotionally, psychologically and financially whole home where they can learn to appreciate the differences that men and women bring to the table, and where they can learn to be the best they can be.
Women, don’t feel pressured to give up your ring. If you want to be married with children, don’t let anyone, including your man, pressure you into squeezing the watermelon out of your va-jayjay before he says I DO.
Am I saying that you should make ridiculous demands on your man? Uh, no. Am I saying that we should have our nose in the air and treat men like they have to lick our shoes just to be worthy of being in our company? Nope. But don’t take it to the other extreme either, where we feel that we have to bring another life into this world in order to be worthy of a commitment.
On September 22, 2010, a movement will kick off. A movement that will spark debate, cause us to question a social issue that we don’t talk much about anymore. A movement that will no doubt bring with it plenty of criticism and ‘how dare they’ comments. But, as a single (divorced) mom, I totally support this movement. And as a black single mom (it shouldn’t matter what my skin color is…but unfortunately it does) I applaud it.
Join esteemed author, Christelyn D. Karazin of the blog, Beyond Black and White, along with a whole slew of authors, television and radio personalities, and most importantly, dozens of moms, as we confront a practice that has decimated black families. No, it’s not a government thing. It a ‘us’ thing that only we have the power to eliminate.
The result of unstable, unplanned homes in the black community has led to the highest high-school drop out and incarceration rates for black males out of all other races in this country. There are more black men in jail than there are in college.
It’s time to say NO to “baby mama” drama. It’s time to say NO to the “baby daddy” madness. We deserve better. Our children deserve better. They deserve being brought into homes where they know they are loved and wanted, where the people who made those babies have every intention of hanging around to nurture them.
I’ll be blogging on September 22, 2010 as well. Check it out here, then hop on over to the other blogs for the shot heard ’round the world ;D
No wedding…no womb.
(commercial by Janks Morton, director of “What Black Men Think”, “Men II Boys”, “We Need to Talk” and other groundbreaking films)
I just got home from traveling for work so I’ll keep this short and sweet so I can go to bed. The goal – wake up in the morning feeling more like TJ and less like a crotchety, grumbly, annoyed, beyond tired bee-otch! ;D
Last week’s theme was break ups, which leads us into this week’s theme – MAKE UP’S! I don’t think anything says ‘romance’ like making up. Enjoy this make-up scene from Hatsept Heat, book number three in the Vampire Council of Ethics series. Be sure to catch all of our Snippet Saturday authors. Links are at the bottom of the page.
Note for Readers: You must be over eighteen to read this excerpt.
“What in the world are you doing kneeling on the ground?” she asked incredulously. “And flowers too?” He was really laying it on…and she was sopping it up.
“I missed you. I couldn’t stay away another day. I know you were upset about me pounding on your friend. I apologize for making you upset,” he replied in his straightforward, direct style. She noticed he did not, however, apologize for beating Sasuke to a pulp.
Then from behind his back, he produced one of her favorite treats—a giant box of chocolate-covered Pocky Sticks. But how could he have known…? Heh. Kimora. The same Kimora who hadn’t even bothered to turn around to see that it was Kenoe at the door.
And the man must really want her forgiveness, considering she didn’t know one single male who would kneel down on a concrete stoop in an expensive, full-length, tailored leather trench coat. Kenoe looked like a cross between GQ and Harley Davidson in a black-on-black outfit that looked tactical but so stylish she was sure the inside seams sported the “purple label”. Even his purplish black, soft-soled, lace-up boots looked like danger gear, complete with embroidered designer crests and silver hardware about the laces. As much as she and Kimora loved shopping, she’d recognize those chic duds anywhere. And they looked soooo good on him.
Accepting the treats he brought, she motioned him up, twirled on her heel and headed back to the kitchen.
Stirring a pot of savory miso soup with one hand, she dumped a handful of firm tofu into the stock. Her mouth watered. But damn if it wasn’t because of the man standing next to her.
And when he noticed her rubbing her back and took over the duty of stroking the tense muscles, the floor looked awful inviting for the puddle of woman she was turning into.
“Do you have a chiropractor here?”
“A what?” she moaned softly. God, his fingers felt so good pressing into the strained muscles.
“A doctor that adjusts your bones and such. A natural healer. Your tenth thoracic vertebra is out of alignment. Hold still.” And those skilled fingers did something to her spine where it cracked and popped, then felt immediately better as the spasming muscles relaxed.
“So, did you come by just to adjust my spine and bring me Pocky?” she purred.
“Actually, I came by to get back in your good graces. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
The tenseness that had leached away only moments before crashed into her gut.
Until he said, “I’m going home to Montana and I’d like you to come with me.”
Whew. Okay, heart, stop slamming up into my throat already. Using the need to taste the soup to cover up her inability to speak, Shinju took her time, blowing and sipping the broth until she could breathe again. Setting the spoon down on the counter, she turned to face him.
“Actually, Kimmie and I were thinking about taking off for vacation early. I’m supposed to visit my mom in Atlanta for summer break. She lives with Kimmie’s parents.”
He moved in close and teased the dip just above her butt with a single trimmed fingernail.
“Well, can you change your plans? I’d love for you to come meet my family. Then maybe we can go to Atlanta together afterwards?”
The only words that came to mind as he continued to stroke that dip were “duh-uh-baddubba-duh, er” with the occasional intake of breath.
Having him so close, not just physically, but psychically, wreaked havoc on her ability to think straight or even pretend to employ common sense. There was no denying the need for intimacy and companionship that had been riding her since she shooed him away. Now her need was fanned into a ravening hunger as their special connection slammed back into her consciousness. Add Kenoe’s raw emotions zinging back and forth between them, and it was awfully difficult to stay detached. Well, that and the chocolate-covered Pocky Sticks.
Shinju sucked it up and reached down to the bottommost depths of her soul for her mad. It ran in the other direction.
“I’m not sure if I want to go with you.”
“So you don’t forgive me?”
“I accept your apology-that-wasn’t-quite-an-apology.”
“Then come home with me, lovely. If you don’t like Montana, I promise to take you anywhere you want to go.”
“You already have making up to do, so don’t write a check with your mouth that you can’t afford to cash.”
When Kenoe’s head tilted to the side, one silvery white brow raised in question, she sighed with exasperation. “I’m basically asking how in the world you can promise something like that. To fly me wherever I want?”
“The Council I work for has several private jets. If you need to get somewhere, my boss has already offered to accommodate you. He understands how important this is to me.”
“Your boss?”
“Yeah, he’s the head of all our, uh, law enforcement corps.”
She wondered what the “uh” was about, along with its accompanying ripple of…guilt. Hmm.
“Please, Shin?”
“But what about Kimora?”
“Bring her along. You know I’m not interested in her at all. Maybe we can find some mischief to get her into and leave her to it.”
“Hey!” Kimora squawked from the couch, reminding them of her presence.
Kenoe took Shinju by the hand and urged her into the bedroom. Digging in her heels she stopped just on the other side of the threshold.
And then he was kissing her. Devastating. All-encompassing. Rough, hot and gentle at the same time. When he released her, her head bonked against the door as her hips arched into him all on their own. God she’d missed this, being touched with both mind and body by this man. She was trying oh-so-hard to hold on to her attitude, but her body simply didn’t care.
With a swat, she interrupted the goal of the talented fingers trying to unsnap her pants. Kenoe chuckled and settled for easing aside the top of her T-shirt and pushing his warm tongue against the sensitive skin just above her collarbone. Sucking and tormenting the softness, his mouth coaxed and teased from that spot up along her neck to her jaw to finally capture her mouth.
A thumb zeroed in on her clit through her pants and stroked in conjunction with the movement of his mouth on hers.
“Come home with me. You can have as much of me as you can handle. Come on. Come…”
And God, did she want to come!
His strokes slowed up a bit, easing her through the frustration of not delivering the impending orgasm she craved.
In between decadent kisses, Shinju relented even as she shuddered against the door.
“Fine, you’ve persuaded me. I’ll go.”
Lips landed on hers with a quick kiss just before he crooned in her ear, licking and nipping the lobes.
“Excellent. I’ll send a car for you at five-thirty tomorrow evening. We take off at seven.” Then he plundered her mouth and set her afire all over again.
God, she was a damned Kenoe addict. But punk bitch, she was not.
Easing away from him, she opened the bedroom door and headed back toward her unfinished dinner.
“That was nice, for starters. I’ll come to Montana with you just to give you a chance to redeem yourself. Brawling on my porch with Sasuke.” She snorted. “And as for how you know my cousin, I don’t even want to go there. And don’t think that just because I’m getting on a plane with you tomorrow that you’re entitled to any coochie.” Though she’d already decided to give him some just so she could satisfy her own longing. Hated to admit it…but she needed him. Needed to be part of him as much as she needed him to be part of her.
Scrunching up her face as mean and as tight as it would go, Shinju grabbed him by the elbow and showed him to the door. How she kept the scowl painted in place when he bowed his head in respect, winked, then grinned at her, she would never know.
But one thing she was sure of, if he’d been half as miserable as she had during their brief separation, he’d paid more than his fair share for his fuck-up. There was no way she was going to tell him that, though. Well, at least not yet. The plane ride would be soon enough to show him just how much she’d forgiven him.
‘Cause breakin’ up is hard to do…oooo…ooooo! This week’s Snippet Saturday theme is break ups, and yes, I remember that song by Neil Sadaka though I was a little kid. A really little kid! Well, breaking up, letting go and realizing it’s over isn’t any easier for our hero and heroine in Serati’s Flame.
In this scene our sexy alpha-male vampire discovers that the woman he’s been so heartbroken over for years and years (I mean to the point of thinking he would never, ever take a mate) is alive…and to his surprise, he doesn’t want her. It’s done. It’s over. And he’s pissed off about it all.
Afterward, be sure to visit all of our awesome Snippet Saturday authors for cool excerpts of today’s theme. Links are at the bottom of the post.
“Hmm. Blood pressure and temperature are both normal. I wonder how she got these cuts and bruises on her neck and shoulders. Looks like she’s been in a fight. Strange these marks aren’t healing at the rate they should for a healthy female vampire,” Carin wondered aloud. All she received was an oh-so-articulate “uhn”.
Turning slowly, she shot a black look at the massive lump of vampire sitting on a stool next to her. “Geez, Alaan, that grunt was so helpful. How ‘bout helping me get some answers rather than sitting there staring at this woman?”
The needle of a loaded injection gun disappeared into Sher’s neck. Alaan didn’t even blink, just continued to stare intently with his mouth tightly drawn and the muscle at the base of his jaw ticking madly. Even his eyeballs seemed tense.
“I’m giving her a modified cell reconstruction serum. It’ll accelerate her body’s natural healing abilities. Wounds like this on a normal vampire would heal in a day. If my calculations are correct, she’ll be fine in a matter of hours. I’ve mixed a sedative in with the serum for the pain, otherwise these bruises around her neck will hurt like hell when she wakes up. But even with the meds, she’ll be lucid so we’ll be able to get some answers.”
Another grunt. The man was seriously getting on her nerves.
Carin sighed tiredly. The flight to London had been hairy at best. Bustling a grumpy, sleepy toddler and the equipment needed into the helicopter to create a lab-like atmosphere had been no easy task. Even if Bix had done most of the work, she so didn’t need this grunting crap from the man sitting there like some kind of nitwit.
“So why are you here, Alaan?”
He looked up with dark puffy circles under his eyes. Evidently he was as tired as she was. His usual topaz blue irises were more of a weary blue-gray. The lines around a tightly drawn mouth turned down into a fierce frown, covering his handsome features underneath a blanket of worry. Turning his attention back to the woman on the gurney, Alaan shook his head and finally spoke.
“I’m not sure why I’m here. I guess that’s what’s bothering me, Carin. Part of me wants to be sure Sher is okay, but…”
“But the other part would rather be knocking boots with Tameth.”
“Damn it, Carin, do you have to be so…so…?”
She just loved to make him blush, even when he was pissing her off.
“Be so what? So real? Yes, I do. I don’t know how to be anything other than straight up. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
Why did the man bother playing this game with her? They were family. More importantly, they were friends. And she was his empathic friend. If anyone could dig into his emotions, she could, and he knew it. Damned man.
“Alaan, why don’t we do this a little differently? How ‘bout you tell me what’s really bothering you, baby-love?” She put a little bit of old grandma impersonation into her voice, knowing it made him wince every time she acted like the older sister.
Still grumbling, he cooperated.
“Fine. I want to be here for Sher but only because I feel obligated to make sure she’s okay. No other reason. She doesn’t move me anymore.”
They both gazed at the still, pale body of the woman who used to cause the sun to rise and set in Alaan’s world.
“She doesn’t move you at all, Alaan?” Carin asked, as she stepped closer and leaned into his side, careful not to touch him with her sterile gloved hands. “Not even a little bit?”
“No, not even a little. Bottom line is I’m in love with Tam.” Cheeks bellowed on a huge exhale of frustrated breath. “God, I’ve wasted so much time chasing Tameth with my dick, I didn’t pursue her with my heart. It’s more than just the bond allowing me to feel her emotions, to hear her thoughts. Much more. I really care for her, Carin.”
“So what the hell are you doing down here then? Talk about mixed signals. Poor Tameth must be reeling.”
She shook her head, fully aware that if Alaan’s connection to Tameth began like her and her husband’s had, Tameth hadn’t missed Alaan screaming “I love you” into her soul while his actions proclaimed Sher as number one.
And why the hell was he looking at her as if he expected her to answer her own damned question? Geesh, the man deserved a smack in the back of the neck. If there’d been even the slightest chance she could get away with planting her fist in the middle of his face to knock some sense into him, she would have gone for it.
“God, you can be so dense sometimes, Alaan. But…” she sighed. “You’re my brother and I love you dearly. Idiot.” Then another thought popped into her head—maybe she’d call the Matriarch, fill her in on what was happening and let her chew a new hole in his ass. Nah, Tameth would never forgive her if even the smallest piece of Alaan’s perfectly muscled butt went missing. Oh well…
Besides, she could feel her brother’s pain, feel it spike to heartbreaking proportions. To hell with the sterile gloves.
Carin wrapped her arms around Alaan’s waist, hugged him close, and promised it would all work out all right. Funny, he was so much taller it was like hugging a big blond tree.
“Well at least you’ve told her, right? I mean, I’m sure Tameth is glad to know you love her, especially since you’re sitting down here at almost four o’clock in the morning with your unconscious ex.”
“I, uh, I haven’t told her yet. And stop giving me that dear-God-my-brother-is-an-idiot look. I’m going already.”
Carin smiled when one of the most handsome and deadly men she’d ever known leaned down and planted a tender kiss in the center of her forehead. Alaan had never made her so proud as that moment when he walked out of the makeshift hospital room, leaving his past behind. His pace quickened the closer he got to the door. He didn’t look back. Not once.
Carin stood there a second after the door snapped quietly shut. A slow smile spread across her lips. She knew exactly where he was going. Snatching off the blue examination gloves, they landed in the trash as she chuckled and grabbed a clean pair.
“Tameth, girl, I hope you’re ready for the determined prime male coming your way.”
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I’ve been waiting for Flare Reynard’s story FO-EVAH! I mean, literally years and years. I’m glad to say I was not disappointed. The introduction of new vamp/were/purist political intrigue while tying up some loose ends from the previous books was done quite nicely. Susan Sizemore’s books aren’t typically explicit, but this time she ‘WENT THERE’ and it was very well done. Totally LOVED it!
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
If you’ve read and enjoyed Lauren Dane’s ‘Chase Brothers’ series, then you will probably like this book as well. It’s got small town charm with big family dynamics (I love big families) so you get to see how the hero and heroine interact with more than just each other. There’s also some suspense written in such a way that you can’t predict if or when the bad guy is going to show up and where.
I totally enjoyed this book as a quick read, but would have absolutely LOVED it a bit more drawn out to give the two main squeezes more tension and time to work up to the humpin’ *repeat after me, humpin’ is good…humpin’ is good…*
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I’ve read every book in the Brown’s siblings series and each one is as good as the previous release. This book is about Ella, who we met in Book One (Laid Bare). This is the first time we’ve gotten into Ella’s head and I really like this chick. After a traumatic event that took place 3 years earlier, we see Ella recovering from the inside out (pun intended). I like that she LIKES herself, that she’s not so broken that she sees herself as weak. The hero, to my surprise, has his own problems. From the previous books, he came across as the loose hipped playboy gorgeous type…but in this book we learn why. He’s not a nasty ‘ho or anything like that, but there is a method to his madness that came as a complete surprise.
One a final note, the previous books had a keen sense of suspense. You never knew if somebody was gonna die, or get attacked or kidnapped, etc. This book didn’t really have any of that, BUT there was enough emotional turmoil from “regular old family stuff” that made me root and cheer for the hero and heroine, as well as wish I could jump into the book and kick a couple of people’s asses!
While romantic tension, awesome sex and perhaps a bit of suspense and/or drama are required for a good novel, I don’t think there is anything quite as important as worldbuilding. Without a good solid world for the characters to play in, they may as well be…well, non-existent, right?
I’ve chosen the prologue from my upcoming release, Death and Roses. Our heroine is a DNA-perfected Generation 8 Super Soldier. I think this snippet sets the stage and the tone for the story. Gives you an idea where the characters are, and perhaps a glimpse of what ‘goes on there’.
After the excerpt, please enjoy all of our Snippet Saturday authors! Links to their Snippets are at the bottom of this post. Tally ho!
The woman wished she could move her head, wished she could move anything. Eyes closed against the blinding light overhead, she tried to concentrate on the sounds around her. It all seemed so muted. Fighting against the numbing effects of the narcotic floating in her system, the woman gathered the last of her remaining strength and pulled against the restraints. Nothing. Not a single muscle moved more than a millimeter. Great. Semi-paralyzed and muzzy brained. What a fabulous combination.
She knew full well where she was, also knew there was a horde of white-coated doctors and scientists in the observatory above. They always stayed out of arms reach when a Hunter was being worked on in what they lovingly called the “Black Carpet Room”.
Funny. There wasn’t a single thing black in here. She’d know, having been a guest within these sterile circular walls often enough.
“Soldier.” A single bland, emotionless voice, louder than the others, floated into the space around her. Immediately the din of conversation bombarding her through the speakers quieted. “State your rank and serial number.”
Immediately, she responded with a clear voice. “Senior Commander, SH-58R39C.”
Well, at least her mouth still worked, so she could tell them to kiss her perfect, genetically modified ass.
“State your current assignment and generation, Commander,” the scientist said, sounding beyond bored. Perhaps he was. After all, she had a feeling she was here for a reason that was all too common these days among her fellow Gen8s.
“I repeat, state your current assignment and generation.”
“IMF Special Weapons and Tactics. Generation eight Super Soldier.” Gods, she hated saying that.
For what seemed like the twentieth time, he asked, “Do you understand why you are here in the labs today, Commander?”
Well, she had a good idea, but since she wasn’t completely sure, she said, “No sir.”
“You are here because your generation of Super Soldiers, you in particular, have not responded adequately to the additional neuro education that is required to …”
At that point, she simply engaged her auditory implant and turned the filter on and up as high as her brain could push it. The scientist’s voice faded to a muted, barely audible, “Blah, blah, blah…” She’d heard enough. If they were going to kill her, just get it over with. Knowing why they were going to terminate her wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Eyes closed, with a calm perfected by several journeys through combat hell, she relaxed her breathing and noticed the veins in her eyelids ran mostly east and west. Then she heard a schnick. In the next instant, the red of the inside of her eyelids that indicated the lights were turned all the way up suddenly hit the extreme opposite of the spectrum.
She snapped her eyes open. The whole damn room was pitch black. Even her enhanced vision had trouble making out what was going on around her. The humming of the machines that kept the dose of the narcotics pumping into her body at the perfect incapacitating level all went dead at once. A blur of white coats milled around upstairs. The scientists in the observatory, trained to do everything in silence, seemed out of sorts. Was that screaming?
Disengaging the auditory filter, her ears filled with the sounds of chaos. What the hell was going on?
She was strapped to a sterile operating table. The leather bands over her chest and legs were secured with reinforced synth-steel couplings that required a key. That key, a digital chip coded to the locks on the straps, was probably around the neck of the half-zombie sounding creep that had spoken to her over the sound system before all the lights went out.
Which meant she was screwed. All hell was breaking loose and she was stuck on her back, strapped to a table with her ass paralyzed.
“Whatever you do, Scharsi, don’t move just now.”
Who the hell…? Wait, that voice was familiar, pleasant. Not dead and careless like the other scientists. And there was only one human in the whole facility who called her Scharsi. But it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t dare, would he?
She started to turn her head to look at the origin of the voice when the straps were literally blown away from her body. It didn’t do a damn thing for her non-working limbs and parts as she tried to heft herself off the table.
“I said, don’t move.”
“What’s going on?” she asked with a croak. Immediately a tube was inserted in her mouth. Water, thank gods. “How long have they kept me in here?”
“You’ve been under sedation for four hours. They just brought you out long enough to question you quickly. Rebels have attacked the facility. And…”
“And what?” she demanded.
“And you’re scheduled for life termination.”
“Life termination? When?”
The figure she couldn’t quite make out leaned in close. Facial features were coming into focus now. And his scent, she’d know it anywhere. His warm breath tickled her ear as he said, “Right now.”
Tubes slipped from her body. A familiar, but hated, series of needles were removed from her temple, the side of her neck, her chest and the inside of her biceps. Damn that hurt.
The doors to the room slid open, but instead of the typical light from the hallways, it just seemed to get darker. But the feet she heard entering the room was a sound she would never forget. She couldn’t move a muscle. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t run. All she could do was accept her fate. And she couldn’t blame the doctor near her side who had always been so nice to her. After all, he was only doing his job. Bastard.
This was it. This was the end. The crackle of a body bag, something she was unfortunately familiar with, rustled around her feet, and then encased her totally. The sound of the zipper sent a cold streak of fear snaking its way through the little holes in each bone of her spine.
“Good night, Scharsi,” was said with such affection, followed by a prick in her neck just before the last few inches of the bag closed out the world.
Good night? Hmm, that was an interesting way to refer to death.
This book is part of the Wasteland series released from Samhain this summer. I think The Wanderer and The Priestess are my two favorites, though the entire four-book series was pretty good.
This is a classy novella. Yes, it’s hot as hell, but the love scenes are done in such a manner that the book doesn’t feel bawdy, sex-for-sex-sake or raunchy. It’s absolutely beautiful. You get into the emotional and psychological ‘bits’ of the main characters without any unnecessary dialog or ‘dry’ parts. The world building is nicely done without being overdone. I do, however, think it’s best read after reading at least one or two of the others.There were a couple of spots where I would have said, “Huh?” if I hadn’t already been at least a little familiar with the world.
I would have liked to have learned more about Siraj. He felt asif his story is deep and should have been told in greater detail, perhaps in a separate book or something. But I still loved the character. Given his position in the story (literally and figuratively) he didn’t feel like a third wheel, just hanging on to our main couple. The author did an awesome job of integrating a man into the relationship who shouldn’t have fit yet in the end, he felt like he was supposed to be there.
In addition, this book told us how the world and its customs/beliefs came into being. And it was quite a surprise. All of the characters mentioned in the previous three books were brought around (not physically, but a mention was all it took to explain where they fit into our characters’ lives). At the end of the book there were no loose ends, everything was tidy and very nicely wrapped up.
