Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Special Agent Sky’lar is a rare Pitch-Blood Kindred female. She has lived most of her life on Portex Three and never even seen one of her own kind since her mother died when she was young. Imagine her surprise when she walks into work at the Peace Keeper Station and is informed by her Captain that she has a new partner. Not only that, but her partner is a Kindred warrior and a male. Since females are dominant on Portex Three, this is a new and unwelcome development for Sky. How can a male possibly make a good partner?
Commander Torin works for the Kindred Elite Espionage group—he’s been trained as a spy and an assassin but right now he’s tracking a killer. A mysterious entity has been murdering Kindred Ambassadors and the rulers of planets where females are in charge. Zetta Prime and Yonnie Six have already been hit and Portex Three is third on the killer’s list. Torin knows that Sky doesn’t like working with him but he doesn’t give a damn—he’s willing to do whatever it takes to catch the murderer, even if it means baring parts of his soul that he’s kept secret, even from himself.
Now the killer is on the loose and instead of another Ambassador, Sky is in his sights. Will Torin be able to stop him before he kills again? And will Sky survive the killer’s murderous intentions? You’ll have to read this Enemies to Lovers, He Falls First, Warrior Heroine, HEA novel, Pierced, to find out!
***Author’s note: for warnings please see my Author’s warning inside the book. Thank you
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
Now that the slow time bubble which had trapped the Eye of Tengu had moved aside, the scion of the Cruel Father was at last able to emerge. He seeped from his shell—the Eye which had opened at last—and under the air lock of the Hell’s Gate Station.
Anyone passing by would have seen an oily puddle of black slime and probably assumed that the hydraulics in the air lock were leaking. Luckily for the scion, this was a disused section of the station and there was no one to see him emerge from his prison and take his true form.
Slowly, the puddle of black ooze began to grow and change, forming into a vaguely humanoid shape. He—for of course a scion of the deity who hated women must be male—grew tall and thin with skin as pale as death. Webs of wrinkles edged his eyes, which were as black as the thin lips that formed on his semblance of a face. Teeth that ended in jagged points and a knife blade of a nose completed the scion’s ragged features.
Below, his skin was the same pale white—too pale, he thought. He needed to be able to hide in the shadows without alerting those who would soon be his victims. A moment of concentration, and his outer surface flowed again, forming a black leather body suit that encased his tall, thin frame—covering everything but his face.
Baleful black eyes gleamed red from inside the black hood which shielded his features from prying eyes. He would need to be unseen to do the work he had been meant for—harassing the Kindred and bringing low those females who had risen above their stations.
The Cruel Father might have cast him aside, believing he could never fulfill his purpose, but the scion knew better. He was an exact copy of his father’s darkest desires…his blackest hatred…his most evil dreams and twisted fantasies. Within him, was the essence of the Cruel Father and his longing to destroy all that was pure and light—to dirty and break everything true and good. And most of all, to grind females into the dust of oblivion.
“Father,” whispered the scion. “You may have discounted me, but I will prove myself.” As he spoke, black fisted hands uncurled, revealing talons, long and sharp and silver in the half-light of the Hell’s Gate air lock.
Silver now, but soon they would be red with blood. The scion did not intend to fail again—he would make the Cruel Father proud and prove his worth…
One bloody death at a time.
ONE
SKY
Sky’lar finished her morning thresh and set the heavy-bottomed mug in the washing bin with a thump. It was nearly time for her workday to begin and she had to get ready.
She worked as a Peace Keeper in the Ninth Division of Hx’lss—the capital city of Portex Three. Though she wasn’t native to the planet—having come there as a small child—she did quite well for herself.
Sky loved her job. She hummed to herself as she pulled on her uniform—a fine black mesh bodysuit that covered her from neck to ankles while still allowing her skin to breathe in the arid desert air. The Portexians—or Serpentines as they were most often called—didn’t drink much water. They didn’t need to, being reptilian. They got most of their moisture through the regular consumption of blood, which suited Sky just fine.
Standing in front of her viewer, she eyed her reflection critically. Her black mesh uniform with the 3-D Peace Keeper patch on the right side of her chest was neat and clean and her heavy black boots were polished to a high shine. Her ice blue eyes were fringed thickly with black lashes but she wore no cosmetics—it wouldn’t be right due to the serious nature of her job. She looked extremely professional except for one thing: her hair—the long, fibrous strands that grew on her head—was a mess, as usual.
Sky sighed as she gathered the black, silky stuff into a sleek ponytail that hung down to the small of her back. Hair was something she just had to deal with, being Mammalian in nature rather than Reptilian like most of the people around her. Many times she’d thought of just cutting or shaving the stuff off—it was such a pain to care for! But her mother, before she’d died when Sky was only nine, had made her promise never to cut it.
“It is considered beautiful, Sky—in the culture we came from,” she always said. “Someday you may find a man you want to mate with—to Bond with—and he will love your hair.”
So Sky didn’t cut her hair. Not because she wished to find a male to “Bond” with—the very idea was laughable. But in memory of her mother, she put up with the long, silky stuff and only trimmed it minimally when the ends became too ragged.