What kind of job do
you have?
Captain of the Starship Brizo. My crew and I buy and sell
trade goods, haul cargo, do salvage work, transport the occasional passenger
and have even hunted down a bounty or two, though that's not something we
favor.
Describe yourself in
three words.
Determined, efficient, compassionate.
Who is your love
interest?
Shanrem de Nebral. My crew and I rescued Shanrem after he'd
been tortured and set adrift in a shuttlecraft to die alone in space. Within
hours of first seeing him, I knew he'd become someone special in my life.
Tell us about your
first kiss with Shanrem.
It was pure impulse. After an encounter with Shanrem's
former captors, the Dukati, he was naturally upset. I gave him time to come to
terms with his feelings which turned out to be a big mistake. Shanrem worked
himself into a state of panic. I tried to get him to talk to me but he was
crying and completely torn up about it. I was so thrown by Shanrem's pain I had
to do something, anything, so I kissed him. Like I said, pure impulse. Turns
out it was the right thing to do. What happened after that… well, let's just
say I gave him something else to think about and we both took a lot a pleasure
in it.
List three things
about Shanrem that turn you on.
If you're talking physical, first I'd say his eyes. They're
this gorgeous silver color with a hint of blue. They remind me of twin stars.
That's why I call him hosh nara
Would you share the
blurb from your story?
Captive of a violent
warrior race, deliberately injured and set adrift to die alone in space, Shanrem
De Nebral is rescued by Zen Ahbramez and the crew of the starship Brizo.
For Shanrem, raised to be
nothing more than property to be sold to the highest bidder, the freedom,
friendship and love he finds aboard the Brizo is more than he ever dreamed of.
But even the best of dreams end, and for Shanrem there's nothing but trouble
ahead.
With the near perfection
bred into him in ruins, his own people would rather see him dead than returned
and the Dukati warrior who owned him wants him back. To keep Shanrem safe and
sheltered within his loving embrace, Zen's strength and resolve will be tested
to the limits.
How about an excerpt?
To wake
was akin to a slow crawl on hands and knees through thick, cloying mud. As his
mind neared a conscious state, memory presented him with remembered agony,
terror and the specter of death that grasped him in its greedy clutches before
merciful darkness liberated him.
The soft
murmur of voices drew his nerves taut. Soul deep quivers shook him from head to
toe. Sweat and chills fought for supremacy at the realization of having been
sent back to that vicious, nightmarish reality. Overwhelming dread returned in
a rush so fierce, it set his heart thundering at a pace that had him a hairs
breadth away from blacking out. A harsh, despairing cry tore from his raw
throat.
From the
corner of his eye he could see someone approach and he fought to move, to flee,
but his struggles were in vain. He was bound, his wrists and ankles secured to
the flat, padded table on which he lay. He flinched as a shadowy figure
squatted down, bringing them face to face.
“Shh, it’s
okay. You don’t have to be afraid. You’re safe here,” the man softly comforted.
“I’m sorry about the restraints. We didn’t know how you’d react on waking so we
thought it would be better to do things this way rather than have you
accidentally reopen your wounds. I’m Zen. Can you tell me your name?”
He stared
wordlessly into eyes of warm tawny gold, so different from the wintry disregard
of the Dukati. Realization of the absence of pain made his knotted muscles
slowly relax. Whoever had taken him in, it seemed their intention was to help
rather than hurt. His heartbeat slowed and he took a much needed breath.
Parting
his lips, he tried to speak, but the word he managed to utter came out a barely
there whisper. “Shanrem.” The effort to say it, carried on a shaky exhalation,
drained what little was left of the strength he’d recovered. A blanket composed
of pure exhaustion settled over him. Though he tried to keep his eyes open, his
lids refused to cooperate.
“Shanrem,”
the man repeated. His deep voice was soft, a soothing caress that calmed
Shanrem’s frayed psyche. “I know how tired you must be. Go back to sleep. I
promise you, no harm will come to you here.”
The last
thing of which Shanrem was aware after hearing that solemn pledge, was the
touch of gentle fingers sliding lightly over his hair.
* * *
One last
time, Zen’s fingers glided through the dark silk of their wounded passenger’s
hair. He eased back and sat on the edge of the treatment platform next to the
one on which the young man rested.
“Shanrem,”
he whispered.
Despite
the bruise-like shadows under his eyes and the easing lines of anxiety that
creased the space between his brows and pinched the corners of his mouth, their
unexpected passenger was beautiful. When Shanrem had opened his eyes, Zen felt
himself drawn into their silvery depths. Like many a star he’d seen, they held
the barest hint of blue and Zen felt, given the opportunity, he would welcome
the chance to stare into them while trying to unravel the secrets they held.
Under the
circumstances it was an odd notion, but Zen had been taught never to dismiss
his feelings out of hand. Even the strangest of musings could have merit if
given enough time to fully reveal themselves.
His gaze
moved from Shanrem’s face to the damage done to his back. Even after treatment
and smothering in a semi-transparent layer of sluget gel, it was a sight that
stirred a plethora of feelings -- anguish, fear, helplessness. Zen’s hands
fisted. He closed his eyes and leaned forward slightly as thoughts of the past
stirred nausea in his belly and a red haze colored his thoughts.
Memories
of destruction, of the bodies of friends and family left dead in the wake of a
Dukati raid played across Zen’s battered consciousness. The images were
debilitating, but he refused to relinquish himself to the weakness they stirred
within. Instead, he called on the inner strength and calm that kept him moving
forward, breathed deeply and opened his eyes to the sight of Shanrem lying so
still, so brutalized, yet still alive and with the potential to put the tragedy
of his captivity behind him.
Images of
Zen’s missing sister and brother overlaid the young man before him and he could
only pray that they had never been subjected to the cruelties Shanrem had
suffered. The steps Zen had initiated in an attempt to discover their
whereabouts had yet to bear fruit, but he was nowhere near ready to give up.
Shanrem’s appearance, no matter how coincidental in the grand scheme of things,
seemed to Zen as something of a sign. Perhaps the fragile hope to which he’d
held so tightly the last two years would yet prove to be more than just a balm
to assuage his own pain.
The urge
to touch Shanrem once more pulled at Zen as though Shanrem had become a
talisman against Zen’s deepest fears. Before he could give in to the impulse,
the med bay door opened behind him, signaling Doc’s return.
“Anything
happen while I was gone?” Doc asked.
“He woke
for just a few seconds.” Once more Zen let his gaze rest on the young man’s
face. The lines of tension had eased and peace had settled over his features.
“His name is Shanrem.” So saying, Zen felt a tug, a stirring of something
inevitable. He wondered if it might be fate.
* * *
Purchase Link: https://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2534
Author Bio:
Having been an
avid reader of romance for years, and being possessed of an overactive
imagination, I decided to try my hand at writing. I discovered that, like
reading, writing romance has become addictive. Whether writing paranormal,
contemporary or science fiction about werewolves, otherworldly creatures or the
average Joe, I found the perfect creative outlet.
I enjoy life in a turn-of-the-century house located in the midst ofIndiana
I enjoy life in a turn-of-the-century house located in the midst of
Author Links:
www.facebook.com/katesteeleauthor
@Kate27Steele
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