Meeting My Furry Husbando - Morning Dew Farms Demo Part 2

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Tristan dreamed of being a wizard his entire life. He's the great grandson of the wizard who protects his village and the first one to show any affinity for magic in three generations.

After waiting fiveever for his great grandfather to take him as his apprentice it's finally happened! He's been summoned up to the tower where his great grandfather watches over the village. But it's not what he expects...

Percival has no intention of mentoring him. He's eager to leave for a smutty vacation from his village-protecting duties. Tristan needs to take over, and that means picking a mentor from three demons Percival lined up for him.
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The demons will give Tristan the magic he needs to become a wizard, but for a price! ...His butt.
Fortunately these demons love humans and really want to connect with one. Tristan has a chance to fall in love with one of three demons, but which one will he chose?

Spicy Ecchi Content + A Yaoi Fantasy Story + A Dash of Comedy = My Magical Demon Lover, a 'mature players' dating sim that puts the wannabe wizard Tristan with his choice of three hot demons.

Three sultry routes, 50,000 words, and 10 endings! Choices matter and there's a high replay value. Pick correctly for maximum love, wizarding skills, and sexy times!

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SENSITIVE Yaoi Hentai Gay Erotica

 

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Sen has no memory of the castle he’s in or the princess he’s about to marry. Things grow even more confusing when the handsome demon god Lilivite shows up to kidnap his bride.  He claims Sen was his lover, and if he wants to leave him for this woman he’ll have to go to his dark realm and rescue her.

Somehow, Sen knows it’s the truth.  Nothing makes sense except what he felt when he saw the demon Lilivite.  He’ll go to the dark realm, rumored to have energies so perverse men die of exhaustion when they dare enter, and find his answers from the demon who so compels him.

Loaded with yaoi hentai scenes, male/male loving, touching romance, and a mystery to be unraveled.  A full novel in one installment with a guaranteed HEA!

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Excerpt ~

The image in the mirror before him came forth through a haze that Sen knew was in his own mind.  He focused on his blue eyes, finding them dull and weary.  The rest of his face surfaced into view, then his shoulders and chest.

There was a balding male human next to him weaving paper flowers into the locks of his hair.  The oddness of that struck him first, then he realized he wore the white and lace tunic of a groom about to get married.

Panic, like a fist reaching into his chest and squeezing, overcame him.

*This is not where I’m supposed to be.*

Something snapped in his mind, clearing his vision all at once.  He bolted up from the ornate chair before the mirror.  His attendant floundered back.

“What am I doing here?  Where is Lilivite!”  He scanned the room while waiting for the answer.  Anguish uncorked in his chest.  His beloved demon wasn’t here—they’d been separated long enough for him to ache from missing him.

The cowering man kept as far from him as the small room would allow.  “Calm yourself, your majesty, please.  All is well.”

Sen lifted a hand and summoned the power of the light.  A ball of crackling blue energy appeared above his fingers.  “Where is Lilivite?  Is that who I’m marrying?”

The fear in the man’s face broke into momentary confusion.  “Of course not.”

“Damn it.”  He let the energy dissipate and stomped past him.  “This is my father’s doing, isn’t it?”

“Oh dear.”  The attendant sheepishly followed.  “But you can’t go, your majesty, you are to marry the princess.”

The room led outward into a dark stone corridor that smelled of must.  “I’m not marrying your fucking princess.”  He spied an exit to an arcade and strode for it.  “How did I get here?  The last thing I remember is—”

The arched door led to a courtyard crowded with humans assembled for a wedding.  They turned toward him in shock.
Sen scanned the throng.

*He’s not here.  Oh, gods—where are you Lilivite?*

The mortals were uniformly pale-skinned and dressed in layered finery.  Above them the sky was clogged with fat bruised clouds obscuring nearly all the daylight.  Sen glowered at them.

“What village is this?  Trumeldon?  Fayeton?”  He sneered.  Those were the only two villages of white-skinned humans he knew of.  “It doesn’t matter.”  His voice rose up in a shout.  “I’m leaving!  try to stop me and I’ll destroy you!  I’ll destroy this whole castle if I have to!”

His father, white-bearded, stout, and standing a head higher than the tallest human, shoved his way through the crowd, instantly knocking all the fierceness from Sen’s face.

“Oh, fuck!”

Terror launched him into a panicked sprint.  His thoughts raced.  How could his father be in a mortal village?  Standing among them as though he weren’t the very god they worshipped?

Sen crashed into his attendant.

“Out of my way!”

Before he could shove the harried man his feet dragged backwards on the ground.  Sen’s face clenched in a sob.

“No!”

Magic energies pulled him before his father and made his knees buckle.  A round steel cage crashed over him with enough force to crack the stones embedded in the walkway.

“Lilivite!”  He forced a scream past the anguish built in his throat.  “Save me!”

His father sneered down through the angled bars with his glowing yellow eyes narrowed.  “He doesn’t know you’re here.  Why do think I’ve put you in this pathetic excuse for a mortal village?  He’ll never find you!”

The cruel words seized his middle, making him crumble to the ground in anguish.  Then desperation asserted itself over his grief.  What was his father planning?  To exile him to some dreary mortal village for the rest of his existence?

He scrambled to the edge of the cage and sent up the largest blue bolt he could conjure.  It hurtled to the sky, breaking through the dark clouds.

“Lilivite!  Save me, damn you!”

A ball of yellow energy, segmented by the bars of the cage, crashed into his middle.  Sen’s body collided with the opposite side of the cell before he could finish his scream.  He fell limply forward onto the round area of floor the cage allowed him.  For long moments Sen could comprehend nothing except the blinding red pain from his father’s blast.  His chest and torso were now bare where he connected to the cooling flagstones.  The remainder of his groom’s tunic hung in tatters from his sleeves.

Already his flesh was knitting and the pain growing duller.  He could not yet open his eyes, but the throbbing between his temples quieted enough for him to make out voices, the first being a witches’ hiss.

“I buried his memories as deep as they would go, my lord.  Any deeper, and his mind would be damaged beyond repair.”
“So damage it.”  This was the angry voice of his father, low and bellowing without needing to be loud.  Sen could imagine the fragile pale humans he’d seen cringing away from him.  The presence of their god had to be more terrible than they could have ever imagined.

“I don’t care if you make him a simpleton,” his father continued.  “Eradicate Lilivite from his mind.  If you fail again, it will be your death.”

“I will not fail, my lord, but he shall never again be your son.  He shall know only this mortal life you’ve devised for him.  Is this truly your wish?”

“Yes!”

The immediate reply gave Sen a sting just as potent as the prior blast.  Oh gods, how could you do this!  He tried to lift himself but his strength hadn’t returned to his arms. 

“What good is a son if Lilivite has enchanted him?  He has been turned into a weapon against me.  For my own survival he must be vanquished!”

“So be it, my lord.”

Sen forced himself to lift his head.  He saw the witch who had green shimmery eyes like a fruit-fly’s filling most of her grey-skinned face.  Tendrils of black hair moved like snakes on her head, mesmerizing him, while the rest of her was concealed by a blue cloak of crushed velvet.

Loka.  His only friend in the fortress of the sun.  She wouldn’t really destroy his mind would she?

“Wait…”  His word sounded heavy in his throat.  “Father…”

“Save your breath,” the god Baldeer sneered down at him once more.  “It is only because you’re my son that I don’t kill you.”

“I was never going to bother you ever again!  You’re going too far!  I love him!”

Loka’s magic manifested as glowing red hands.  They floated into the cage as Sen scrambled back.  The hands dove through his white hair, clasping either side of his head, and making him still.

Then there was blackness.

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Possession 1

Possession 1

The demon possessed man Jonah has fallen under the dark authority of Priest Sabaste, patron of the four gods of Rainor.  Sabaste crosses boundaries that no priest should, forcing Jonah to confront the vulnerability of his condition.

He’s thrust into the intrigue of the Rainor court, while at the mercy of its diabolical priest.
    
The start of a dark sensual slow-burn series by the author of Maelstrom!

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Excerpt ~

1 The Sheriff and the Half-Sister

“You have to oversee things, brother.”  Valeria twisted her apron in both her fists as she beseeched Priest Sabaste in the stable.  “He’s possessed of a demon.  A holy man must be present or he’ll wreak havoc.” 

Her body language bespoke anxiety, but Sebaste knew it wasn’t due to the disturbed man in his church aspe.  His estranged half-sister fretted over asking him favors. 

“I wish not to get involved in pointless pursuits.”  He kept his gaze steady on her, forcing her to look at the floor to avoid the fire in his blue eyes.  Valeria, wide-faced beneath dark blond curls and with lines on the corners of her kind gray eyes, shrank before him.

“But it’s for Sabina,” she said, uttering Sabaste’s twin sister’s name in a cajoling way.  “She must be sick over this.  Her little one’s been missing so long.  If it could help—”

“I don’t believe she’s concerned.” 

This made Valeria gape at him.  Sheriff Edmont picked himself off the stable post he’d been leaning on behind her.  The man, whose face reminded Sebaste of a weasel, planted his skinny legs wide and crossed his arms.  The priest didn’t allow him the benefit of a glance.

“It was only a girl-child.  Sabina’s focus is on producing heirs.  She considers her a wasted pregnancy.” 

“Hey, now watch it,” Edmont said.  Sabaste eyed him while noting his vernacular had grown more like the peasantry.  “Juelet’s a niece to you and me both, a sweet little girl.  Don’t be saying her mother doesn’t love her.  The only one who’s cruel enough to hate an innocent lamb like that is you.”

Beside him the priest’s black stallion bristled at the raised voice.  His focus returned to the beautiful creature’s gleaming hide.  He worked his brush through its mane twice, forcing both Valeria and Edmont to endure an extended silence.

“You brought a charlatan to our keep, Sheriff.  Kindly engage him in his scam as your wont and then get him the hell out of my church.”

“He ain’t a charlatan, you pompous ass!”

“That’s what I was going to mention,” Valeria said.  Sabaste gave her the benefit of his attention since she was by no means as despicable as the sheriff.  “He didn’t come offering to help for a fee.  He was kidnapped and brung here.”

“Arrested,” Edmont corrected.

“Well, brought against his will in any case.  He’s truly possessed of this demon or spirit, and it sees things that none of us can.”

“You ought to let me tell it,” Edmont said, “if your brother will hear me for half a minute.”

Sabaste led his horse to its stall a few steps away.  “I’m listening.”  An arrested man was now worthy of his interest.  What might the pathetic fellow give to earn his freedom?    

“So Jonah’s his name, no surname given.”  Edmont paused to clear his throat, a cue for insecurity Sabaste recognized.  “He lives alone out in the moors in some wooden shack, goddess only knows how long.  Apparently he sells the coal out there, has some arrangement with a sheepherder, a grocer, and a rye farmer, what have you.”

“Get to the point.”

“That’s what I’m doing!  I’m saying he’s coming back late from the market one time and a man named Otho, a bootmaker well known in the county, sees that his eyes have gone red, his teeth have gone sharp, horns sprouted out of his head, claws on his fingers, and black marks about his face.  Otho runs at him with his pitchfork, but the demon makes him freeze with fear.  He tells him he ought to get home because his baby’s coming early and sideways.  Sure enough it’s true, and Otho is able to find the midwife in time to save both his wife and child.  Otho tells a few others, and they tell a few others, and so a woman goes to him about her young one who was carried off by a bird.  And she learns the girl wasn’t taken by a bird like her husband said, but she’d been hauled to a brothel.  She retrieves her before her virginity is sold.  There’s many more stories as this.  He helps some here and there, always saying never to trouble him again.  He says what has him possessed is evil and wants to do harm.  He tells all to stay away.”

Sabaste held back signs of his burgeoning excitement.  It was likely untrue.  Both Edmont and the peasants of their county were dullards.

But, oh if such a creature truly did exist.  

“I asked him to help with young Juelet.  He wouldn’t open his door to me—demanded I get off his property.  He knew full well I was the sheriff.  I had no choice but to come back with my men.”  He looked at Valeria.  “It was the right thing to do, taking him.  If he really is a demon, we can’t have him loose in the county.”

“You’ll talk to him, won’t you, brother?”  Valeria’s nerve had been reinvigorated.  “The men are all scared of him.”

Sabaste made a forthright stride past both of them.  “I’ll speak to him alone.”

“I need to be there!” Edmont said.  

He heard Valeria softly convincing him to let him have his way.  In such situations she proved invaluable.  The sheriff could yield to her without compromising his pride.  

The stable connected to the manor house, which was not quite a castle, but was still the second most impressive building in the county.  The thatched roof worked around windowed dormers.  A balcony stood on tall piers off the second story, with rolling views of the low meadows and village.  The concrete was immaculately shaped and whitewashed, with decorative shutters adorning numerous small windows.  

He continued to his church beyond this, the Temple of the Four Gods, which dwarfed the manor enough to keep it enclosed in its shadow three hours of every day.  His roofs were made of rounded clay slates, baked a hundred at a time in former church’s kiln.  Large stones comprised the main floor, as many as the county’s meager foundry had to provide.  Smaller rocks had to be used to create the walls of his spires and great tower.  

He entered through doors of colored glass to the nave of his church.  At the end of the central aisle he could see sheriff’s men, a half-dozen uncouth barbarians desecrating the sanctity of his apse.  He noticed their muddy boot prints on the polished wood of his floor.  It was peat and darkened soil from the moors.  

As he drew nearer, he saw a youth among them who was damp from his left shoulder to the soles of his boots.  He visualized how the arrested man must have tossed him in a desperate bid to flee.  The others, twice as thick as the youth, had subdued him without succumbing to the muck.

So he may not truly be possessed of a demon.  He was unable to summon its preternatural strength to escape them.

They clustered around the office of his high druid.  A few who’d been seated came to their feet as he approached.  They gave him questioning looks for an instance, then avoided his radiant eyes.  Sabaste said nothing to them, produced a key for the door, and went in.

2 The Prisoner

Seated on a carved wooden bench before the desk of his druid was a man of thirty, his brown shock of hair tussled, his worn hemp trousers and long-tunic caked in mud.  He sat huddled and holding himself like the personification of a trapped fawn.  The raising and lowering of his shoulders with each breath came faster than they should, as though he were still panicked.  Despite filth coating one side of his face, Sabaste saw beauty.  He had a narrow cleft chin beneath a wide pleasing jaw and large soulful eyes that matched in depth what his own had in fire.    

He fixed these wide eyes on Sabaste, and his breaths grew more rapid still.  The priest closed the door but made no move to sit.  He allowed the man to absorb him on his feet, where he could present the most intimidating impression.  He wore a black linen Cossack which started at his collared neck and draped with a skirt to the floor.  His thin cloak, also black as coal pitch, remained hooded over his dark locks of hair.  It shadowed his eyes, but in no way inhibited their brilliance.

“You’re Jonah,” Sabaste said, while moving to his druid’s desk, “the man possessed by a demon?”

Jonah’s voice came out in the full tenor of desperation.  “I’ve done nothing wrong.  If my presence offends the county I’ll take my leave at once and will never return.  I beg to plead before his lordship.”

Sabaste looked him over once more.  He hadn’t expected a cultured tongue to match the refinement of his face.  Now he was forced to wonder whom he was dealing with.

He entwined his fingers and tented his thumbs.  “The earl heeds my council on all matters, particularly those involving demonic spirits.  Plead before me, as you would him.”

Jonah swallowed, collecting himself before beginning once more.  “I beg you to let me leave.”

“What of the earl’s missing daughter?”

Genuine bewilderment formed on his face.  “His daughter is missing?”

Sabaste nodded.

“I knew nothing of this.  They…didn’t tell me anything.”

Of course not, the buffoons.

“So I’ve been brought here to give aid?”

The priest leaned back his head to look down his nose at the man.  “Can you find her?”

“Yes.”

His lack of hesitation made Sabaste’s brow twitch.

“He can—or he can tell you what’s become of her.”

“‘He’ being your demon?”

The man pursed his lips and nodded.  “And then I may go free?  Once I’ve assisted you, I can return to the moors?”

“I’ll make a determination on the matter after you produce the girl.”

“I won’t help you unless you promise to set me free.”

The bluff made Sabaste grin.  “I promise you absolutely nothing.  And you will help us.  You’d be wise not to test me.”

Jonah bowed his head, both angry and resigned.  The priest most enjoyed the anger, since it heralded an enticing conflict.  Were he too complaint Sabaste would get bored.

Proceed slowly, cautiously, estimate him fully before deciding which move to make.  He was so rarely at a disadvantage with his adversaries.  For the first time he knew nothing of his opponent’s powers.   

                               

The priest waited half a minute before moving, to be sure the man had yielded to his control.  Then he rose and tipped his chin at him.

“Come.  You may cleanse yourself of this mud in my quarters.  I’ll find you a fresh set of clothes.”

The soulful eyes looked upwards, absorbing the grain of kindness like succor.  He climbed to his feet, still huddling his arms around his body, and followed Sabaste out.

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My Two Jaguars MMF Bisexual Paranormal Romance

Her Two Jaguars Bisexual Paranormal Romance

Her Two Jaguars Bisexual Paranormal Romance

They battled over her, but she pleads for both of them to join in her bed.
Votan is a proud warrior who knows he deserves Michelle.  She gives meaning to the many lives he's lived.  He lost her to his despised rival Maximon in his last incarnation, but this new life offers him a chance to redeem himself. 
Votan yearns to claim his mate.
Wall Street millionaire Maximon bonded with Michelle in a past life after Votan made a dire mistake.  He didn’t expect the jaguar queen to summon his spirit in this life, but it’s a gift he’ll cherish.
Maximon is happy to steal his beloved from his enemy.
Broke college graduate Michelle doesn't care that she's a Mayan jaguar goddess.  She's just trying to find a job. Her spirit-bonding comes to her in dreams, the subconscious act of her goddess essence which she hasn’t yet embraced.  In the morning she realizes something unbelievable happened.
The three of them have spirit-bonded to each other.
My Two Jaguars is the bisexual retelling of Mated to the Jaguars which has over two dozen five star reviews.  Completely rewritten, this thrilling romantica adventure contains explicit red hot scenes of MF, MM, and bisexual ménage.  A happily ever after is guaranteed!

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Excerpt ~
Michelle took her jaguar form and returned to the main living area to recline on the couch. She’d go into the spirit world and check the essence of Ixchel for any memories of Caquix. Her chances felt slim. The stream overwhelmed her too much to withstand for long. Still…doing nothing in response to the encounter seemed foolish. If she needed to act, her goddess spirit would tell her what to do.
Her cat body always fell asleep quickly. She entered the spirit world and swam above her light essence.
First she checked for any demons annoying her parents. The things looked like small monkeys with short deformed limbs. She'd sic her claws and teeth into the little monsters. Once she ripped apart one trying to cause her father to get into a car accident. There was another that meant to have her mom fired from her work. She didn’t understand how she knew this—it was a spirit power she'd tapped. Any demon out to hurt the people she loved got destroyed.
She waded her paws around the stream of light looking for any dark spots where a monkey might emerge. This was procrastination. She was going to have to dive in. The prospect made her tense. Her essence overwhelmed her too much to stay in the light for long. She knew if she let it consume her she became the goddess Ixchel. It seemed easier to live her life as the human Michelle.
Far ahead of her, on the horizon of the stream, she saw a dark shape larger than one of the monkey demons. She got an instinctive jolt of terror. Anything bigger than a monkey demon represented more power than she’d ever encountered in this world. As she stared at the form, she realized she sensed no evil. Her feet moved toward it without her willing them.
The figure became clear fast because it came towards her. She beheld a beautiful male jaguar, huge and majestic, slinking near her with his hypnotic yellow eyes locked on her.
Votan!
She stopped and sat on her haunches. If her cat form made human expressions her jaw would have been dropped open.
‘Ixchel…why have you gone to Maximon?’ His mouth didn’t move as the words came forth. He spoke with his spirit voice. ‘You’re my mate. You must be with me.’
Oh my God, how awkward. How did she explain this?
‘I don’t understand why—but I’m spirit-bonded to both you and Maximon this time.’
Votan stopped moving toward her. She sensed a smoldering cauldron of emotion emanating from him. She wanted to shrink away.
His eyes grew pinched. ‘And you picked to that disgraceful profiteer, instead of me?’
Disgraceful profiteer?
‘It’s not like that. I—’
Votan leapt at her with a roar.
Holy shit!
Michelle scampered back, but the massive beast collided into her, somersaulting them over the stream. She struggled to get onto all fours. Votan bit her scruff and her limbs became weak. She realized he'd mounted her.
Immediately, and with instinct instead of thought, she crouched to present herself. The penetration she braced for never happened.
He got off her, but she remained in the compliant position for more.
‘See, Ixchel? Your spirit knows you're mine. I’m coming for you.’
He leapt into the stream of light and vanished.

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Ensnared Bride

Yaoimila has a new sci-fi romance!!

Ensnared Bride

Enslaved Earthling Monica just wants to get through another day without being punished by her alien masters.  When the warlord Javintore comes to visit Monica is tricked into helping with an assassination plot.  Now she could face execution for her alleged crime.

Javintore decides to claim Monica rather than have her killed. He’s intrigued by this pretty human slave who dared to try to kill a Hax-Rah warlord.

Monica fears she’s gone from a bad situation to a worse one. Hax-Rah warlords are notorious, and she’s already gotten on Javintore’s bad side.  By the author of Indentured Bride!   

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Excerpt ~

“By my clock you should have 36 cores done,” Ducra said to Monica in perfect English.  The alien overseer dumped the slave’s pile of pink luminescent saccus nut cores off the metal plate she’d piled them on.

Monica continued struggling to remove the core she was working on without rupturing it (a ruptured core was a tr’sark zap).  She didn’t know how many were on the plate.  Each one she fell short of her quota was a zap.

“…thirty-three, thirty-four…”  Ducra put the last core back on the plate.  “Thirty-five.”  The alien’s pale yellow eyes narrowed at her.

She gave a final gentle tug on her nut and the core popped free.  Monica’s chest heaved with rapid breaths.  Her thundering heart felt like it was going to erupt from her chest.

Ducra took the final core and placed it in her collection bag.  “Thirty-six.”

Oh thank God!

Fortunately Ducra wasn’t one of Monica’s crueler masters, who would shock her anyway just for fun.  The red and purple hued alien seemed to see doling punishments as just another chore.

“Empty your waste bucket before you go to sleep,” Ducra said.  She placed Monica’s paper-wrapped food ration on her workstation and filled her metal pitcher with water.  “Keep the stink down.  We have visitors coming.”

“Yes, serat,” Monica said with her head bowed.  She waited for the alien to move on to the slave next to her before snatching the bundle.

Monica gobbled what she assumed to be a clump of soggy ground beef.  She downed the liter of tepid water with loud gulps.  Once her thirst and hunger pains had been seen to she gathered the bucket she defecated in.

The other two women in her small work area didn’t earn any shocks.  Monica let her tightened shoulder muscles slacken when she heard Ducra exit the room.

She brought her bucket to the sewer hole across the concrete floor.  Another slave, Emory, came beside her to dump hers also.

“Visitors, huh?”  The bony blond woman in her fifties tipped her bucket into the hole. The stench that repelled upwards no longer bothered Monica.  “Maybe it’s the Alliance?”

“Why do you get your hopes up?” Monica said.

She took her empty bucket back to her station.  The cot behind her work stool was only half the length of her 5’ 6” body.  She had to curl her knees to her stomach in order to fit.

Nine days without a zap.  Monica drew a deep breath of air into her slender frame.  Keep it going.  You may never have to feel that pain ever again.  The pitiful hope didn’t raise her spirits, but at least it kept her from sinking any lower.

She imagined herself swimming in an Olympic-sized pool until she drifted to sleep.

Hours later high-pitched alien voices worked their way into her dream.  She squinted in a state of half-wakefulness trying to make sense of the noise.  Then something touched her hand.

Monica jolted awake. Hovering over her cot were two tall pale green aliens with grotesquely long faces and glistening black eyes. Panic seized her at once, but then her morning amnesia faded.  She remembered that she lived in a world where weird aliens were plausible.

The beings, clad in long gray gowns with long arms jutting from draping sleeves, spoke to each other in high-pitched noises that seemed to echo from inside their own mouths.

Monica stared at them, huddled against the wall.  They’d pushed aside her work table to get to her.  These must have been the visitors Ducra mentioned.

“Let me taste your skin.”

Monica’s eyes widened.  The alien switched seamlessly to English.

“Don’t!”  A sick thud of horror hit the bottom of her stomach.

The bald alien scowled.  “It won’t hurt.”  Its gangly arm lowered to clutch her wrist.  An impossibly long tongue fell out of its mouth.  The tip moistened her palm and then withdrew.  It let her go to resume its chatter with the other alien. Monica assumed it was reporting what it had tasted.

“Good friends,” Ducra said from behind them.

They both turned and their gowns separated enough for Monica to see past them.  Ducra was wearing a flouncy red dress, something that had belonged to an Earthling at some point.  It fit her bulky muscles poorly.

“May I present the Mek-lord, Javintore.”

She stepped aside to reveal a towering Hax-Rah male, clad in a black shoulder mantle, a black cowl which hid his eyes, and low black pants that strained to hold bulging leg muscles.  The rest of his red/purple flesh was bare.  Monica’s eyes absorbed the regal nose, lips, and chin left exposed by the cowl, and then dripped down to thick muscular pectorals capped with dark pink nipples.  From there her gaze lowered to his bare torso, catching the definition of his abs.  She stopped at his low waste band, which had the darkening of pubic hair.  The sides of his groin muscles made a V shape over his hips.  

Unnggghh.

She realized he was the first pleasant sight she’d seen in the last ten years.  The vision stirred up feelings she scarcely recognized.  She thought her body had been long dead to desire.  Years of torture made sex the furthest thing from her thoughts.

“Wonderful,” one of the greenish aliens said.  “There is no chance the Alliance is aware of your presence?”

“Well,” Ducra said, “we had to make up an excuse for a ship as large as his being in orbit.  We said he’s picking up energy cores for the robots.  They’ve no idea why he’s really here.  These underground bunkers are the perfect place for a meeting. The Alliance doesn’t even know they exist.”

“Let’s hurry up, all the same.”  This was Javintore.  “I have a mission to get to.”  His voice was baritone and husky, sending electricity down her spine with every word.  

“Come.”  Ducra led the Mek-lord and the greenish aliens into the next room.

Monica allowed herself a pleasurable shudder.  She was now glad the disgusting aliens had woken her, despite still needing several more hours of sleep.  She quickly faded back into oblivion.

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