Grim Justin Collection by Fiona Jayde

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Blurb:

Traveling through space, GrimJustin is ship of hackers, fighters and lovers working the not quite legal side of interplanetary politics.
When Intel Agent Dinah Burns is captured obtaining a top-secret key sequence to a competitor’s MainFrame system, the man committed to extracting her intel is Jack Brenner. But Dinah won’t give up the key sequence. Even when Brenner uses his own special kind of orgasmic torture.
Halloway Duke is contracted to bring back a rogue pilot. Finding her isn’t a problem. Finding her to be Kara Dillon -- the lover who betrayed him into enemy hands -- is unpleasant. Finding he still wants her is not something he’s ready to deal with just now...
GenAlt -- superhuman, super strong. MedTech Lilian Oser leads a quiet life aboard GrimJustin until Trent O’Blak is called to Arius Prime and the old need for revenge burns through every cell of her now strong body. She will get to Arius Prime. She will take her revenge. And she will prove to Trent that she can handle anything the big GenAlt can dish out.
Old Earth Curse: May you live in interesting times...




Excerpt:



This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Her eyes snapped open to darkness.
Immediately, Dinah catalogued the surrounding conditions: warm, dark, no visible exits. Some sort of padded pallet was under her; she was facing up, her hands resting at her center, cuffed in cool slick metal. Her feet hung off the pallet, touching the floor. She didn’t panic, not yet anyway. She tested her eyes -- looked up, then down. The drug was wearing off. Think.
Her feet weren’t bound. They were solid on the floor, which was at least something. The tremors under her toes told her she was on a ship. For how long, which one, she had no idea. She tried to identify the mix of metal and musk in the air when she heard a door swish open.
Her own pulse pounded in her ears. She willed herself not to move and forced fear down where it didn’t bother her throat.
“Agent Burns.” His voice was behind her, the warm whisper of it sending shivers from her neck down. A male voice, somehow familiar. “You’re awake.”
She didn’t respond on a chance he might come around so she could see his face -- and gasped as a large male hand gently squeezed her breast.
“You are awake,” he repeated and withdrew his hand.
She moved, lightning-fast, swinging her feet to stand up and clasping her hands to deliver a blow where his head should have been. Instead, she connected with nothing, staggered from the force of it and stumbled right into a hard male body.
Her foot stamped on his instep and she heard him grunt even as he dragged her backward, muscled her arms up and hooked her cuffs to something above her before moving away, leaving her exposed, vulnerable, helpless. She fought to calm her pulse, gulped for air -- harsh breaths that ripped at her throat as she forced them out.
“Now that you’re awake…” he was behind her now, and the bastard not even breathing hard, “…let’s discuss the keySeq to the MicroSel main-frame.”
Okay, now she knew why she had been captured. Her heart was beating so hard she wondered if he could hear it. Underneath the fear was a sick sort of excitement.
“What key?” She didn’t think it would work, but it might stall some unpleasantness. She expelled a breath.
“Do you really want to play this game?” That warm whisper was tickling her nerves. She sucked air in and stalled for time, trying to calm her breathing, slow the pounding in her chest.
“What game?” She knew what was about to happen, she’d been trained for it. Somehow, the sims didn’t anticipate an almost erotic reaction. Stupid.
He chuckled, the sound somehow sexy. He must have stepped forward, because she felt a hard male body press against her back in a sick parody of a hug. Strong masculine arms wrapped around her, and he shifted, moving her forward so her head fell back against his chest and her rear pressed against his cock. His hard bulging cock.
This was definitely not part of the sims.
“We can do this real easy, Agent Burns,” he said, whispering directly into her ear and, damn it, sending another shiver down her spine. “I need that sequence.”
She was pretty sure debriefing didn’t happen like this, but it was better than broken bones. Breathe in.
“Your training has been accounted for.”
A new truth drug? She’d been exposed to most of them anyway, a new one wouldn’t make a difference. What then?
She shifted slightly, trying to gain a fraction of space between his cock and her ass muscles, clenching in some sort of sick anticipation. In response he rolled his hips a bit to emphasize the contact. And chuckled -- the bastard -- when she gulped in a breath. “Aren’t you interested, Agent?”
She figured he would tell her anyway.
“Newest trend in intel extract.” He paused for a moment, as if to see if he would get a response. Nothing.
His hands skimmed her stomach. “Let’s call it the Pleasure Principle.”

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EXCERPT: Magik Ink: Dark Lotus by Fiona Jayde

Magik Ink: Dark Lotus
by Fiona Jayde
Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-064-3
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Shunga
Series: Magik Ink
Length: Novella


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BLURB:

He has been cold for nearly two centuries. A tattoo artist by day and an assassin by night, Kyoto Hajime must kill the ones chosen by Magik to keep the gift from twisting into something dark. Ensuring that monsters like his brother cannot consume the dark power they crave.
Jim’s ink will denote Magik’s choice. He must kill Tia Morse, the woman he had marked with the Dark Lotus -- a Vegas bartender whose touch gives him the warmth he has not felt in years.
Duty must come before desire. But years of discipline may crumble when passion’s fire burns through ice and Magik’s choices are no longer clear.

EXCERPT:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

***
He had learned to deal with the cold. The constant ice that rasped his veins kept reminding him he was nothing more than Magik’s soldier. Forged like a weapon; cold like the steel he used to take another’s life. Kyoto Hajime. Not altogether human, not immortal, he was just ice, hungry and sharp, kept alive by the same Magik he protected.
In the dark, high up above the masses, Jim stared at the glowing Vegas skyline. He watched the swarms of tourists and the ones who served them, the flares of light, hearing the clicks of heels, the drunken high-pitched laughter. While the times and fashion changed, he remained young, his body frozen, his heart ice. And if the humans on the street below knew the price of immortality, they’d thank whatever god they followed for keeping their lives short, and for the most part, meaningless.
Luxury meant nothing. If he could bother to turn on the lights, the soft glow would bathe over rich fabrics and satin sheets. The shiny coffee table would gleam in cherry reds, the lush patterns of the carpet would swirl their jeweled tones. And none of those opulent colors had ever helped him when the cold turned brutal, or when sleep, his only respite, wouldn’t come.
He’d chosen this place because the height of it suited his mood, just as he’d chosen this life because the cold suited his purpose.
He was a killer, a warrior assassin who took the lives of those who chose Dark Magik. He atoned for his weakness because he could not lift his sword to end his brother’s life.
He watched the city breathe below him, and found his thoughts returning to the woman he’d met earlier today. The one who came to Magik Ink both scared and determined to have him mark her body.
She had a glow of vulnerability around her, one she kept hidden under the protective layer of a tough girl -- a layer of makeup, and skintight jeans molding her ass. A broken wing hid somewhere below the war paint. She had demanded him specifically, and didn’t blink when she was told his price and that he chose his own artistic license.
Jim wondered what she would have done had she been told that the world famous steady hands were sure and swift due to hours with a sword. Kyoto Hajime, sought-after tattoo artist of intricate Nipponese designs, created art by day and killed in the hot Nevada night.
She’d bared her body despite the shyness he had glimpsed in those witch-hazel eyes. Those sweetly rounded curves were tempered with muscle, a discipline Jim understood. In Vegas, one lived through their beauty. And she was beautiful with that curved, firmly muscled body, her dark blonde hair bundled up into a messy bun, those green eyes challenging him, shyly asking him to look at her, to want her.
Had she been showgirl gorgeous and fully aware of the fact, he wouldn’t have given her a second thought. But this vulnerability so valiantly hidden under a mask of toughness captured his interest. Too bad he had no time for wounded angels, especially those who forced themselves to meet his gaze despite their shyness.
She’d chosen a lotus and surprised him. He pegged her wanting something flashy, perhaps a dragon since she appeared to be into Japanese motifs, perhaps a string of Kanji. Something ridiculous like “honor” or “the way” -- symbols often worn but rarely understood. But Tia Morse wanted a lotus, something to curve over her hip and buttocks, and she’d lain on the padded bench expecting him to mark her skin.
He had to force himself to keep his touch impersonal. With what Magik he had, Jim had lulled her to sleep and hadn’t waited around to see if she had liked his design on her. The power was already there, a small touch that had him recoiling. If Magik chose her, he’d have to kill her soon enough.
He thought of those bright eyes dulling with pain or darkening to black from abusing Magik. He thought of her lips bleeding once his brother fed on her power, a kiss of death, a long dull twist and pull of everything she had.
His heartbeat pounding, Jim reached behind him, feeling for the leather bindings of his sword. The hilt was warm against his palm, the only warmth he had been allowed to feel in a long while. The leather had been worn smooth and soft with age, the sword it cradled forged in the tradition of the Samurai. He didn’t have the mental strength to slice it through his brother’s neck, or the honor to end a life that had lost all but the greed for more. More Magik and more power. Simply more.
He pictured this same sword plunging inside the girl while Dark Magik pumped inside her veins. She’d choose it -- all the humans did. In past centuries he’d never met a human who didn’t use the gift in anger, in the need for revenge, or simply greed. Eventually she would twist Magik into something vile and open herself so Yoshida could feed.
The Dark could only feed upon itself. Because of weakness, he watched Yoshida turn innocents to darkness for the sole purpose of devouring their power. By torture or by promises, his brother sought out Magik’s chosen and twisted them until he could consume their gift into himself. The more he had, the more he craved it.
And still Jim could not lift his sword to kill his brother, even when Yoshida had prepared for that final blow to sever Jim’s head from his body. Jim had thought he would find peace at last.
The Lorekeepers thought otherwise.
The cold inside him let Jim live for centuries, killing the ones gifted with Magik so his brother would eventually starve. He would atone for his cowardice by killing innocents before they turned to the darkness -- before Yoshida could feed on that twisted Magik.
The irony was that Jim was the one to mark them. They’d seek him out, wanting a brand, an imprint. Tattoos were sacred in his world, marking the skin with truth, glowing with excess Magik.
And in the modern world where tattoos had become a fashion statement, he never knew if he would have to kill the ones he’d just marked.
Tiana. Tia Morse, with tough girl clothes and cautious eyes, too much mascara and a lush, full mouth. Perhaps if she weren’t chosen after all, he would allow himself a chance to see her once again, if only for the pleasure of it.
Vegas lights glittered on the sharp edge of his sword. Inside his mind, the Lorekeeper spoke in his birth language. She will be sacrificed.
Jim’s gut churned wildly at the thought.
The ink will speak. You must kill her before your brother does.

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