Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-838-8
Genre(s): Futuristic, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Shunga
Length: Novella
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-838-8
Genre(s): Futuristic, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Shunga
Length: Novella
Blurb:
Shaped by his creator in the form of the ancient god Cernunnos, Herne knew only the cold metal of a cage and the sharp blades of his master until he escaped into Tahoma’s forest. Now, as the first winter storm of the season gathers, a hunter has entered his woods, bringing a bound and blindfolded woman as game.
Until tonight, Neva had survived as a healer in a gospel town where the monsters walk on two legs and the women do as they are told. “The Girl Who Said No,” she finds herself at the mercy of a jilted suitor and his brutish friends, with the woods her only chance of escape.
Welcome to the future. Seattle lies in fog-shrouded ruins. Fantasy has become reality. Science is the new magic. The year is 2270, and it's time to meet the real beauty and the beast.
Excerpt:
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The roads into the Tahoma foothills were gutted. It had been decades since they had been paved and each year heavy rains and snow melt carried more of the asphalt away.
Tied in the back of a sputtering pickup truck, a burlap sack over her head, Neva Andrews couldn’t see the pitted road, but every inch of her backside felt it. She focused on each sharp jolt and let the rude caress of worn-out shocks over rough ground distract her from Mathew Paylin’s clumsy fondling.
“Finest looking ass in town, Nev.” He tried to keep his heavy hand shoved between her thighs, his thick fingers working to push her panties to one side. Each bump in the road sent his hand bouncing up and the game started all over again.
She shivered -- not from the clumsy groping or the sure knowledge the men were taking her up the mountain to kill her. She shivered because she was cold. It was mid-December and the air was thick with the promise of the season’s first big snowstorm.
Mathew moved so that his body molded flat against hers. His fingers dug into her hip and his weight pressed her down hard against the washboard metal of the truck bed. Her hands were bound behind her and pain spiked from wrist to shoulder as Mathew leaned in to taunt, “You brought this on yourself.”
Mathew rubbed against Neva, his movements forcing the thin cotton dress up over her thighs. Cold air bit at her skin and her teeth started chattering. His hands slid up under her dress, tugged her breasts free from her bra and squeezed roughly at them. She could hear and feel him breathing faster, the steamed air filtering through the sack and becoming trapped.
“Don’t see why you gotta die cold.” Dragging his knuckles over her lower belly, he tugged at her underwear.
Something sharp rapped against the glass -- Daniel or Josiah’s fist she guessed, or maybe a near empty flask of moonshine. Mathew pulled away, leaving her exposed and shaking. She felt him scoot to one side, the truck shifting under his weight. His hand touched her breast, drawing back again at the sound of another sharp knock.
“Fucking Josiah!”
The windows were up on the cab, no talk or music escaping from the front. But Mathew swore quietly just the same -- all six feet, four inches and three hundred plus pounds of him. No one crossed Josiah, not even a mountain of a man like Mathew.
But she had crossed Josiah. And now he was going to kill her for it.
The truck slammed to a stop, propelling the top of her head against the back wall of the bed. Doors opened, slammed and she heard Josiah yell. “Get that bitch outta my truck!”
The gate went down. Someone grabbed her by the ankles and pulled sharply. She landed on her bound hands and pain twisted through her arms and wrists. Her head struck the frozen ground a second later, nausea and pain mixing in her skull. She swallowed a scream, wouldn’t give the men that, would bite off her tongue and choke on the blood before she gave them anything.
One of the men dragged her by the ankles to the front of the truck. The heat had already faded from the engine but the headlights cut through the burlap’s loose weave. There was the shriek of fabric as what was left of her dress, bra and panties was torn from her body. Rolling her onto her stomach, they stripped her crude sandals from her feet. Hands grabbed the rope around her wrists and hauled her onto her knees.
That’s how Josiah liked his women, on their knees praying while the men stood.
Boots crunched on the frozen ground as someone circled her and then the sack was torn from her head. Twilight filtered through the trees. She glared at the three men. Mathew, the youngest, stood with the sack in his hand and his dick hard against his jeans. He glanced away, too cowardly to look at her now that she could look back. Daniel, his brother, was just as aroused but his last hit of X glazed his eyes and made his feet unsteady.
Then there was Josiah, a man colder than the ground that dug at her knees or the December air scraping at her lungs. She swallowed another wave of nausea, knowing his arousal would come only at the cost of her tears and blood.
Buckets of both.
Neva dropped her head, waited, naked, for the ground to open up and take her whole.
“Get my bow.” Josiah waited a heartbeat, long enough for her to imagine the arrow-fast rip of steel through her flesh, and then he shoved Mathew toward the truck. “Get my goddamn bow!”
Mathew moved like a petulant child, his steps heavy and dragging. He grabbed the bow’s case from behind the bench seat and slid it along the ground. “I thought we was gonna fuck her.”
Josiah knelt, almost even with her, as he opened the case. Steam left him in a thin stream. His breathing slowed with a hunter’s reverence as he wrapped his hands around the weapon. Standing, he notched an arrow and gestured at Mathew to get Neva on her feet.
“Maybe after.” He motioned Mathew to move away, and then he sighted down the length of the arrow’s shaft. “But we’re gonna let her run first.”
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