Samhain Publishing

There is only one rule in the Wasteland. Survive.

The Wanderer by Crystal Jordan
For his inventions, Ezra can demand whatever price he wants, and now he wants the fierce warrior, Kadira. Kadira fights her unexpected need for him with all her strength. The trouble is, the more she resists, the more he seems to like it.

The Whore by Lilli Feisty
Prostitution is the only life Bryn knows until she escapes aboard a pirate ship, dressed as a boy. In the arms of Captain Xander and his lover, Hawke, she finds true freedom. Yet danger awaits them at the next port…

The Breeder by Eden Bradley
When Nitara looks into the eyes of the man to be sacrificed along with her virginity, she sees not an animal, but the man who haunts her erotic dreams. Realizing the temptress is as much a prisoner as he, Akaash escapes with her into the arms of his bonded lover, Dhatri. There, she learns loving two men is worth every sacrifice.

The Priestess by R.G. Alexander
On a dangerous journey to an ancient city, High Priestess Xian and her guard, Hel, find a battered stranger. Her attraction to the mysterious Siraj makes Hel’s blood boil, forcing him to cross a line never before dared. And reveal secrets that change everything.

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Copyright © 2011 Crystal Jordan, Eden Bradley, Lilli Feisty, R.G. Alexander
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

The Wanderer by Crystal Jordan

He loved watching her work.

On the battlefield, with a sword in her hand, she was intense, fierce. A dangerous adversary that kept her skills sharpened to a fine edge. Many liked to test their strength against hers, and more often than not, they fell before her. At the Rites, it was for practice, as the feuds would resume once the month had passed. No one wanted to let his or her swordsmanship slip. To do so could mean disaster for a clan. Kadira pushed herself harder than most, and Ezra loved the way her slender body moved, as graceful as any dance, and twice as deadly.

But now, when she set aside her blade and plied her other trade, he could gaze on her with the unguarded zeal of everyone else who gathered about the large woven mat upon which a young woman lay, receiving her mark of adulthood that would allow her to participate in the Rites.

It wasn’t the girl that interested him. It was Kadira. Always Kadira.

The crescent moon engraved between the dark wings of her eyebrows marked her as a kabu shaman, a master in the sacred art of tattooing. Unusual for a woman to choose to train as a shaman—but, then, women were unusual, outnumbered five to one, even among the Wanderers, and it was worse in the cities. Kadira leaned closer to the girl’s arm. Ezra had never seen her face so unguarded, so serene. She’d lost herself in the kabu ritual, the god and goddess moving through her and her tools to shape the designs she carved into the flesh. It was beautiful to watch. She was beautiful to watch.

Her waist-length ebony hair was separated into dozens of slender braids, the top half pulled away from her face so she could work for hours without the desert wind blowing the plaits in her eyes. Amulets and beads hung from her neck, etched with blessed symbols. A black leather band covered her breasts and a loincloth stretched around her narrow hips. Rich white pelts dangled from her belt, concealing pouches that held her shamanic tools. Her legs were bare to the knee, where boots encased them like a second skin.

He’d wanted those long legs wrapped around his waist for years.

An apprentice held the skin taut while Kadira dipped a serrated chisel attached to the end of a stick into a jar of black ink. She pressed the blade to the girl’s skin and used another stick to tap the chisel and ink into the flesh. The rapid sound of wood smacking against wood was hypnotic, and more Wanderers gathered, entranced, to observe the kabu ritual performed.

Kadira pulled in a deep breath, her breasts threatening to spill from the leather containing them. Biting back a groan, Ezra was unsurprised by his body’s reaction, he hardened to a painful degree. Always it was so with her, but she had never allowed him to touch her, even in the orgiastic indulgence of Spring and Fall Rites. Not once. It made him burn with frustration. He knew she was aware of him, had seen the keenness of her interest the night before. The lust shimmering in those midnight eyes had nearly driven him past his endurance. He’d beckoned to her before he’d recalled her vows required a time of sexual purification. Only that recollection had kept him away from her. He wanted to take, to claim.

This Rite, he would have her. In any way he could. She would be his and his alone. A shudder rippled through him as the thought made him throb. Yes. He refused to hold back any longer, refused to wait. Why he’d delayed this long, he didn’t know, but the time had come for action.

Soon he would have that graceful body beneath him. Soon he’d sheathe himself in her. Soon he’d taste the sweetness of her juices, hear her scream his name as he made her his. Soon he’d have all that wildness in his arms.

Soon.

The Whore by Lilli Feisty

“I can clean.”

As the men stopped and turned to face her, Bryn slapped a hand over her mouth. What the hell had she just said? Not only was the idea of working on a ship insane, but she’d never held a broom.

The Captain nailed her with his gaze, and her heart stopped. Brown eyes. Direct and intense and sparkling with intelligence.

She took a step back. “Or not…”

The skinny man gave her a slow once-over. Normally, such an obvious assessment would have disgusted her, but, oddly, it didn’t. As his gaze roamed her body, a shiver of something went through her. Something she couldn’t quite identify. Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

Strange, that.

“You looking for a job?” the thin man said.

She nodded her head. “Yes.”

Their expressions were amused. The Captain stepped forward, and her heart skipped as he dipped his head to look her in the eye.

What were these men doing to her? Had she actually inhaled something intoxicating and was now suffering a contact high? That one trader’s incense had smelled a bit funny…

The Captain put a hand on his hip. She noticed that hand was marked. A burn mark. And it appeared fresh.

Okaaay. That didn’t look too good.

He said, “Yes or no, boy? We don’t have all night.”

Her hands clenched at her sides as her palms went damp. Her pulse hammered and her head spun. Was this really happening? Were they offering her a chance for escape?

She’d never cleaned a floor in her life.

She was posing as a man.

The ship was probably full of nefarious characters and big danger.

No one was more surprised than she was to hear herself say, “Yes. I am in need of a job, and I can clean. If you think you can take me on. On the ship, I mean.”

The Captain’s all-assessing gaze was much quicker than his friend’s but it sent a shiver up her spine.

He gave her a quirked grin. “Oh, I think I can take you, boy. Now let’s go.”

The Breeder by Eden Bradley

Akaash opened his eyes, tried to sit up. But he couldn’t move.

All was dark around him, but he remembered now…

They had come upon him at night. He’d been alone in a small cave in the mountains, sleeping after a long, successful hunt, and three days in the Wasteland. He’d thought it was road pirates, come to steal the meat he’d killed. They were on him so quickly, and in such numbers, that they had him bound and thrown onto the back of a horse before he understood they were the guards of the temple.

But he was no longer bound to a horse. He was lying on the earth, iron cuffs on his wrists attached to long lengths of precious iron chains. All was silent around him. And although the chains had some give to them, he could not move a muscle.

He’d heard of the drugs they used to keep their prey calm and still. To seduce the men of the Wanderer clans into serving their purposes with aphrodisiacs, using them as breeding stock to keep their bloodlines strong. He’d heard the girls used as breeders were beautiful, but of course, none of the Wanderers had ever seen them and lived to report back. Only those men of the cities chosen in the lottery to breed with them each month saw them. Except for those few Wanderers who were kidnapped, used. And killed.

He knew what his fate would be if he didn’t escape. But he could not move a muscle.

He wondered what Dhatri, his bonded lover, would think if he knew. Dhatri was the Chief Warrior, the best fighter of the Mutairi clan, fierce and brave. He would be ashamed, as Akaash was himself. Even if he escaped now, he could never overcome the disgrace of being taken. He had been a Warrior. And now, he was fallen prey.

He peered through the dark, trying to see…anything. And after a few moments, his eyes adjusted enough for him to see that he was in a cage of sorts, with bars made of the old iron, so precious since the Burning Time. He was in the dungeons of the temple, then. Impossible to escape, or so it was said.

He lay still for a long time, hours, perhaps, alone with his humiliation in the dark. He was thirsty, dizzy from the drugs. And his cock was hard, standing ready. He grew angrier by the moment, thinking of what they’d done to him, of this vile helplessness.

Finally, a shaft of light dazzled his eyes as someone came near with a torch. He blinked until his vision cleared. In front of him was a man, a guard of the temple, in a short, dark robe he recognized as the garb of the eunuchs who watched over the breeder girls. The man was young. His face was shaved smooth, his eyes a pale green, his features almost girlish in their prettiness. His body was lean, but his shoulders were broad. Had the situation been different, and had the boy been able, he was beautiful enough that Akaash would gladly take him to bed, part the smooth cheeks of his tender ass, and push into him…

He shook his head, reminding himself fiercely that this pretty piece of flesh was the enemy.

“You there,” Akaash demanded, irritated at the unevenness in his voice. “Tell me where I am, and what is to happen to me.”

The guard moved aside, and from behind him stepped a girl. She was petite, her head reaching to the guard’s shoulder. Her long, waving brown hair was a soft veil around her curving form, touched with gold from the light of the torch. She wore the red garment of a Breeder, the cowl draped low in the front, revealing her full breasts, the fabric just covering her nipples. But it was her face Akaash found so arresting. Heart-shaped, innocent-looking, with high, rounded cheekbones, and the same pale green eyes as the guard. And her mouth…the pink lips full and generous, almost too lush in her otherwise-sweet face. Lips that could do wicked things to a man…

The Priestess by R.G. Alexander

“Shall I kill them for you?”

Xian turned from the small altar on her private balcony and smiled softly. “You’ve asked each time I come back from a meeting with the council. What would you do should I ever say yes?”

Her Sun Guard quirked his lips. “Obey with haste and enthusiasm, High Priestess, as I always do.”

She shook her head. “Much as I am tempted today, I’m still not sure the Goddess would approve.”

But then, she wasn’t sure She wouldn’t. Not after hearing the men of the council spitting bile and demanding blood for the loss of the recent Sacrifice. That, combined with the previous disappearance of several Roses, prostitutes from the brothel, had them shouting recriminations and fear for the return of The Burning Time.

Chamberlain Vey kindly pointed out that though there had been incidents in the past, they had been rare until now. Until Xian. No Sacrifice, no Wanderer taken for seed and returned to the Goddess, had ever turned the tides and escaped, taking a Breeder with them.

During the meeting, he actually demanded that the Temple increase the Sacrifice rituals. To kill two—even three Wanderers at a time to make up for what was lost. They cried faith, but it was greed and thwarted lust she saw in their eyes. They did not fear the reprisal of an angry god, nor did they respect the Goddess. They were children throwing tantrums at having their toys taken away.

Nitara.

Xian knew the Breeder was safe. Knew now that Nitara had willingly chosen to save the Wanderer, the desert warrior, and run with him. She’d spoken privately with Nikkan and Leilin, Nitara’s siblings and accomplices. She’d loved the young woman like her own flesh and blood. What hurt most was that Nitara hadn’t trusted Xian enough to tell her that she’d had more than first-time nerves. To tell her that she’d spent her Taming Moon with a Wanderer whom their soothing draughts had not affected, and formed an attachment to him.

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. Why would she? It was Xian who had placed her on her path. Even when, after years of study under the former High Priestess, Xian still didn’t understand why the ritual was necessary herself. Oh, she knew what she’d been taught. In order to soothe the Sun’s anger, in order to aid the Goddess, it must be a life for a life—sacrificial blood for a virgin’s blood. But it felt wrong.

That feeling didn’t stop her from forcing the murderous burden onto her charges…too many times to count. If her predecessor had not seen Xian’s birth veil or markings as a sign that she would be a Temple leader, she too could have been a Breeder, could have been called upon to kill the father of her child moments after conception. As it was, she was born with blood on her hands, since her true mother had not survived the birthing process. That too, was considered a sign.

“My Priestess, if you do not stop looking so sad, I will have no choice but to believe they have offended you beyond repair and slay them all. What troubles you? Do they continue to blame you for the young Breeder’s escape?”

Hel, her Sun Guard, was the only one involved that she hadn’t spoken to yet. She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that he had kept it from her. He was her confidant, her protector. For six rotations of the starlit sky, since her predecessor had passed and she’d been given the mantle of High Priestess, he had never wavered in his commitment to her. Even during Akaash and Nitara’s flight, he had wrapped Xian in his arms, protecting her from the fire and the angry mob with his own body.

But he hadn’t told her why he’d been instrumental in helping them escape.

She turned to study him more fully. The sun through the sheer blue curtains that separated her from the harsh daylight cast his skin in shades of dark bronze. A testament to his tolerance for and life beneath the hot sun.

All Sun Guards were impressive compared to the ordinary citizens of Kroy Wen and the eunuchs. They spent their entire lives training, after all. But Hel was…more. Strong and broad-shouldered, he was taller than most of the others. Blue-black hair curled against his neck with the heat of the day, and eyes the color of the healing malachite stone glowed from his darkly tanned face.

He’d made many a Priestess flush with his mere presence. The eunuchs would often share the Temple gossip with Xian. They told her how the others wished Hel would enter the lottery just once, that one of the reasons they imagined he didn’t, had to do with speculation about his relationship with their High Priestess.

There was none. No male touched the High Priestess. But Xian would be lying to herself if she denied her fantasies. How often had she completed a fertility ritual by the light of the moon, or taught a newly blooming Breeder the ways of self-pleasure, and found an image of Hel in her mind? Too often.

Her role in the Temple forbade such selfish urges. Her passion and energy was for Kroy Wen and all her charges, not for herself. As she was trained. As it was meant to be. She was chosen by the High Priestess Ani and the Goddess to be mother to all, and could never be mother, or lover, to one. Certainly not to a Sun Guard who was duty-bound to follow her every command.

You didn’t command him to help Nikkan save Nitara.

Friendships between eunuchs and outer guards were rare indeed. As they should be. The eunuchs had been created to protect the Breeders in the inner sanctum of the Temple. Some were chosen at birth, some were the result of punishment when her predecessor had been forced to make an example.

The Sun Guards worked outside, also protecting those who dwelled inside these walls, but they did not befriend, or in many cases respect, the inner guards. It wasn’t something Xian necessarily approved of, but she’d been taught that the separation was necessary for the safety of the Breeders. She supposed she’d just had that lesson reaffirmed.

Hel was not merely another Sun Guard, loyal only to her. He had secrets. A life separate from hers. It rattled her, thinking she might not know him as well as she thought.

She crossed her arms, determination steeling her spine. It was time. She couldn’t back down now. “Hel, arm yourself and gather any supplies you believe we’ll need. I must journey to The Vault.” She hesitated. “I would prefer that you not share this information with your fellow Sun Guards.”

His lashes flickered in surprise, but he didn’t question her. Bowing low he backed into the room, toward his own small adjacent one to comply.

She knew what he wanted to say. They had already made the perilous journey once this year. It was only done when those Priestesses who had trained to understand the stars and their meaning deemed it safe. When the Crone foresaw a clear path. When other Sun Guards stood at the ready to make the journey with them.

This was not one of those times. Yet Xian felt compelled. She glanced down at the altar with the carved, lush figure placed in the center. Perhaps the Goddess was guiding her steps.

Perhaps.