Consorts
of the Red King
Eden
Winters
Gay
Romance/Sci-fi/Menage
Release
Date: 10.26.19
Cover
artist: Perie Wolford
Blurb
In
deepest space the ruthless Federation lays waste to one rebel colony after
another, leaving comrades-in-arms Van Orskey and Tayn Kassik without family,
without a home, and without hope.
With
nothing left but each other, they run contraband and smuggle fugitives from the
safety of their ship, the Cormorant—with the occasional clandestine mission for
the rival Coalition thrown in. Their heists have not gone unnoticed, though
even the bounty on their heads doesn’t prevent them from being a thorn in the enemy’s
side at every opportunity.
Pissing
them off? Big mistake.
From
the day of his birth Prince Jorvik of Akiak learned duty, wisdom, and honor
from his father, leaving him ill-equipped to withstand betrayal by his
Federation-puppet uncle. He has no love for the greedy off-worlders who plunder
his world’s natural resources and enslave his people. To defeat his foe, he
needs the cunning, fearlessness, and touch of treachery only outlaws can
offer.
Two
off-world mercenaries make unlikely partners in Jorvik’s quest for vengeance,
but the more he learns of them, the more common ground he discovers. In each
other’s arms they find passion, heat, and maybe, a reason for living—until
their common enemy threatens to tar them apart.
To
survive, they must take on the corrupt Federation.
And
win.
Excerpt
Vrrrp! Vrrrp! Vrrrp!
Alarms
shrieked throughout the Cormorant. Van Orskey flitted deep in the
confines of the explorer-class cybership, in the control room he’d built with
his mind. Nothing but white walls at the moment, instruments, and
viewscreens. “Why the hell can’t we get to our bodies?”
Tayn
focused on the ship growing larger by the second in their main viewer. “No
numbers. They’re not responding to our hail. Definitely a Federation ship
though.” His voice remained deceptively calm, but in cyberspace who could tell
reactions without giveaways such as a pounding heart and a sweaty forehead?
Federation
ship. Holy hell! Why couldn’t it be a curious transport vessel? No, white hull,
blue lettering—the motherfucking Federation.
They’d
make one hell of a lot of credits for hauling in the Cormorant and her
crew.
Van
and Tayn’s physical bodies lay side by side in stasis pods, tubes and wires
protruding from their skin. Not of any help at all.
Van
chanted, “C’mon, c’mon!’ Somewhere his pulse spiked. Gods-forsaken ship needed
to pump the necessary drugs through his physical veins faster and release him
from the ship’s innards to return to his flesh.
“They’ve
locked onto us.” This time anger raised Tayn’s normally soft voice.
“Give
them a warning shot. Not too close, but close enough for them to know we mean
business.”
Determination
creasing his brow, Tayn hunkered down over the console. “Motherfucking, fuck,
fuck, fuck!”
Van
turned from his own observation of the approaching ship. “What?”
“No
response from tactical. Our shields aren’t responding either.”
“Why
the fuck not?” Van and Tayn’s consciousnesses ran this ship, every system,
every sensor. Why wasn’t the Cormorant responding? They were the Cormorant!
“Diagnostics
are showing jack shit,” Tayn barked, calmness wavering.
Not
good. Not good at all.
The
vacant look in his bright blue eyes spoke of Tayn’s concentration as he wended
his way through sensors, searching for the problem.
“Can
you override?” Van tried to keep his desperation to a minimum, but they were
well and truly screwed.
“Working
on it.” Tayn gave a triumphant, “Whoot! Got it!”
Not
a moment too soon. “How much more time until reconnection?” Outside his confines,
ship functions came online: physical life support, climate control, air and
atmosphere. Gravity. Everything they’d need to make the switch from incorporeal
brainwaves to sentient Terrans.
“Five
minutes, twenty seconds.”
Five
minutes, twenty seconds too fucking long. Van pushed his consciousness,
testing his bounds.
Tayn
swatted his shoulder. “Stop! You know if you move too fast you could damage
your mind. Besides, what if you get there and the ship isn’t ready to support
life? You’d still be stuck in the pod.”
Yes,
but if he didn’t move fast, no telling what might happen.
Vulnerability.
Damned vulnerability. Van’s greatest fear.
The
ship shuddered.
Words
weren’t needed. They were being boarded.
Van
spared a portion of his thoughts for the counter, ticking off precious time far
too slowly. Every few seconds he tried again, willing himself out of the
circuitry and back into his slowly reviving form.
“Our
luck just ran out, Tayn.” Van gusted out a breath he didn’t actually need in
this form. In a distant connection air whooshed out of his lungs.
Hey!
He felt. “It’s time!” Focusing all his attention on fingers, toes, and other
body parts he hadn’t needed in twenty-eight days, he pushed with all his
might. “C’mon!” he shouted at Tayn.
Tayn’s
eyes went wide. “I… I can’t. Something’s wrong.”
“Wha…?”
Tayn’s
face faded from view.
“…t?”
The claxons jabbed like lasers into Van’s newly awakened eardrums. Every nerve
ending blazed fire. Van jerked, opening his eyes and aiming a shaky hand at the
panel in front of him. Wires and tubes retreated, pulling free of his veins and
nerves, leaving the sting of needle pricks in his extremities.
Some
already hung loose, entry points in his flesh ripped and bleeding as though
he’d tried to break loose prematurely.
Faster, damn it, faster! Pins and needles raced up his arms and legs, circulation
returning to normal.
“Tayn!’
He whipped his head around. The other seat sat empty. What the hell? Tayn
always woke before him. “Tayn?”
“Still
here,” came a voice through the ship’s speakers, in a voice synthesized to
sound like Tayn’s.
If
Tayn remained in the system, then…
Razors
slashed at Van’s insides, and not merely the agonizing chill of chemicals now
roaring through him, putting all systems back online. Tubes hung from the empty
chair to the floor, leaking precious fluids—the fluids used to keep his and
Tayn’s bodies alive and requiring minimal resources while their minds guided
the craft.
“Tayn!”
The sensors showed barely livable climate and oxygen in the now-waking ship. A
quick slap opened the pod door and Van sucked in stale air. Trails of
blood-tinged fluid led down the hall. Hell, no. “Tayn!”
Cold
metal floors beneath his bare feet, Van stumbled naked down the corridor.
“Tayn!” he screeched again. “Stop them! They’ve got your body.” Fuck, fuck,
fuck.
The
ship came alive, Tayn screaming “Motherfuck!” He opened and closed doors,
giving Van the best route to intercept the thieves. The panels slid back too
slowly. “I don’t know how, but they’re fighting me for access!”
Van
charged ahead. What the fucking hell did they want with his partner’s body?
Plenty of cargo filled the ship’s hold. He stopped by his room long enough to
grab a blaster, then hauled ass to the cargo bay, the most likely point of
entry. His heart hammered in his chest.
Viewscreens
showed suited figures, humanoid in shape, but faces hidden by their helmets.
This
couldn’t be happening. All the early warnings, the security. Someone slipped
past their defenses? Impossible!
The
wires and tubes kept his muscles from atrophying, but he’d not recover full
strength for another few days. He stumbled, grasping a doorway to keep himself upright.
He should be in recovery right now, not pushing his muscles past the breaking
point.
Grabbing
the ladder railing, he positioned himself over the hole in the floor, slung his
weapon over one shoulder, and dropped to the deck below. “Seal the cargo bay
doors,” he yelled to his partner. He charged down the too-narrow passageway,
feet slapping against the deck plating.
“Can’t.
They’ve got some kind of override.”
Fuck.
No use being stealthy. Van needed speed.
And
for the gods-forsaken claxon to stop.
As
if on cue the ship fell silent, except for the normal pinging he wouldn’t stop
to identify, and noises made by the three figures who’d boarded the ship.
“Who
are they?” he shouted.
“Two
humanoids and a Neelonian.”
Neelonians.
Bah! An entire race of mercenaries, for sale to the highest bidder. Much like
half the people he knew.
Outside
the hull the engine hum grew louder, the Federation raiders preparing to leave.
They’d breached the ship’s defenses without pinging the sensors. How? Every
inch of the Cormorant cost a fortune, nothing but the finest.
Including
security.
He
slammed his hand against the cargo bay door. One second too long, two seconds
too long…
The
door swished open. Van aimed his blaster, swung around.
Nothing.
The
engine noises revved. No! Without his body, Tayn would be stuck in the ship’s
circuitry, unable to leave.
Why?
If the raiders wanted the closely guarded technology of keeping a body alive
and in stasis while the person’s intelligence ran the ship, minimizing the need
for life support on deep space missions, they should have taken the whole pod.
Why
not simply take the ship, since they’d somehow managed to render the Cormorant
powerless?
They’d
gone through a lot of trouble for a humanoid body. Judging by the state of the
pod connections, they’d tried for Van’s too.
Younger
and smaller, Tayn’s body would likely fetch a better price if they intended to
sell on the black market—if it survived being ripped out of stasis. They’d only
want a physique like Van’s for use as a soldier. At thirty, Van passed prime
age for a recruit a few years back. Tayn’s could be used in a futile attempt to
give some rich asshole a shot at a longer life, or whatever the fuck
experimentation the Federation conducted these days. Still, unless they
possessed one hell of a lot of tech on the raider ship, Tayn’s heart wouldn’t
last long.
Each
passing moment reduced his chances.
Van
charged toward the control room, plunked down in the physical captain’s chair,
and flipped one button after another. The viewscreen illuminated on a wall.
Good. At least Tayn managed to regain control of some of their systems.
The
marauders powered for hyperjump. Once they made the jump, Tayn’s body would be
gone forever.
“Tayn,
we gotta go after them. We can’t let them get away.” Van strapped in while the Cormorant’s
engines roared. Only two of them, but a faster, smaller ship. They might catch
the raiders, but no telling where they’d end up. Federation space meant a death
sentence for two Coalition smugglers if the marauders put out an alert.
“We’ll
never catch them,” said a disembodied voice throughout the ship.
Yes,
they would. Or die trying. “We can’t afford not to.” Nor would Van consider the
possibility. Until the Federation shot them out of space, he’d keep trying.
The
ship in the viewscreen wavered. Hyperjump in five, four, three…
The
forward gun moaned to life.
Oh,
shit. Van’s blood froze in his veins, colder than what waited on the other side
of the airlock. “Tayn, what are you doing?”
A
pause, and then, “What I have to.”
Deep
in the Cormorant’s belly a shudder grew.
A
flash hurdled toward the marauder’s ship.
No,
no, no, no, no! Van balled his hands into helpless fists. “Tayn! What the hell
are you doing?”
His
horror grew as the missile locked on target.
The
contraband warhead they weren’t supposed to have slammed into the raider
vessel.
White
light filled the screen.
The
raiders’ ship blew apart.
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
You
will know Eden Winters by her distinctive white plumage and exuberant cry of
“Hey, y’all!” in a Southern US drawl so thick it renders even the simplest of
words unrecognizable. Watch out, she hugs!
Driven
by insatiable curiosity, she possibly holds the world’s record for curriculum
changes to the point that she’s never quite earned a degree but is a force to
be reckoned with at Trivial Pursuit. She’s trudged down hallways with police
detectives, learned to disarm knife-wielding bad guys, and witnessed the
correct way to blow doors off buildings. Her e-mail contains various snippets
of forensic wisdom, such as “What would a dead body left in a Mexican drug
tunnel look like after six months?” In the process of her adventures she has
written twenty gay romance novels, has won several Rainbow Awards, was a Lambda
Awards Finalist, and lives in terror of authorities showing up at her door to
question her Internet searches.
When
not putting characters in dangerous situations she’s a mild-mannered business
executive, mother, grandmother, vegetarian, and PFLAG activist. Her natural
habitats are airports, coffee shops, and the backs of motorcycles.
Website:
edenwinters.com
Email:
edenwinter@gmail.com
Twitter:
edenwinters1
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/EdenWinters
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