Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance

Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance
R.G. Alexander
The Priestess cover - a woman hugging herself, with long black hair, wearing an outfit made of white scarves.
Part of the Wasteland series:

To survive in the new world, there are some rules that can never be broken...

High Priestess Xian has willingly embraced the role chosen for her since birth. Yet the joy she receives from helping others is overshadowed by her feelings for the personal guard she must never touch, and the growing belief that the world she lives in is wrong.

On their journey to the ancient city, Hel can’t prevent Xian from aiding a man who belongs to no caste and follows no rules but his own. But the curiosity and growing desire of his priestess may force Hel to cross lines he'd never before dared…and reveal the one secret he's kept hidden for years.

Damn the rules. Even if he has to share her, she belongs to him.

Note: This book was previously published. It has been extensively revised and expanded from its original version.

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Eden Bradley

Destined to serve the desires of an entire city, all she wants is one man. Or maybe two…

There is only one rule in the Wasteland: survive.

A Breeder born to the Temple, Nitara knows the Great Goddess’s plan for her: to bring life to what is left of an arid and wasted Earth. Since puberty she has been trained to arouse and titillate, to ensure the continuation of the human race. But when she meets Akaash, she begins to question her purpose, and the only life she’s ever known. As is the custom, the warrior and hunter captured for her is strong of blood, though considered little more than a wild animal. Yet in his eyes she sees no primitive creature, but the man whose face and hands haunt her sensual dreams.

For Akaash, it is his shame that he has been captured by the Temple guards, his seed to be used to keep the blood of the city of Kroy Wen strong. He will be sacrificed to a goddess he doesn’t believe in, for a people who are not his own, leaving his Wanderer clan—and his bonded lover, Dhatri—behind. Locked in the bowels of the Temple, he has a month to think of his plight. And to think of Nitara, the young Breeder whose virginity he is to take before she takes his life on the altar of her goddess. With each tortuously erotic encounter, however, Akaash realizes that Nitara is as much a prisoner as he is…and as he contemplates his escape, he comes to understand he must take her with him. Akaash faces a nearly certain death either way, but only love can set them both free.

Note: This book was previously published.

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Love is the most dangerous experiment of all.

There is only one rule in the Wasteland: survive.

The few remaining women are as reviled as they are worshipped, a commodity any man must pay to touch. And to touch a Wanderer, he may pay with his life.

For Ezra, the risk is worth the reward. People speak his name with the same reverent terror reserved for ancient, wrathful gods, but he must always be ready to fend off those who would take what’s his. And what he wants to be his is Kadira.

Kadira, adopted after she witnessed the slaughter of her devoted parents, has vowed never to love or need anyone. It seems only fitting that she, an outsider, accept Ezra’s demand in trade for the fuel technology her clan needs—but her deep, unexpected need for him is the torture she’s fought all her life to avoid. Worse, the greater her wrath, the more he seems to like it.

Ezra’s mercenary half delights at having the warrior woman in his arms. His scientist half can’t resist the urge to see what makes her react—and what makes her explode.

The real experiment: if the bond they forge is strong enough to make her want to stay.

Note: This story was previously published.

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Excerpt:

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 gather 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.

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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 now.

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, his cock hardening 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 passed 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 his cock 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 sheath his cock in her tight, wet pussy. Soon he'd taste the sweetness of her juices, hear her scream his name as he made her come for him. Soon he'd have all that wildness in his arms.

Soon.

COLLAPSE
Wereplanets cover - a couple in futuristic bodysuits with fur collars standing in an icy landscape with a polar bear next to them and multiple moons and planets showing in the sky
Part of the Wereplanets series:
Editions:eBook, Paperback

Centuries after the destruction of earth, several species of altered humans still survive. These shape-shifters are exciting and exotic creatures, and their human forms do little to mask their most primitive and passionate instincts...

IN ICE
When Jain Roberts' ship crashes on a distant, futuristic planet, she's rescued by Lord Kesuk, the lusty clan leader of the Arctic Bears. His potent masculinity haunts her dreams—dreams he intends to make deliciously real, as he draws her into a realm of complete sexual abandon...

IN HEAT
Mahlia is a snow tigress in heat and now that her tiger king has returned to rule the planet Vesperi, she can no longer deny her desperate need to mate. She greets him as a woman, but their desire for sex is uncontrollable as they come together with a primal passion...

IN SMOKE
When Lady Ketryn is called back to her home world to join Lord Nadir's harim, she is curious to learn more about her weredragon nature. What she discovers is a scorching eroticism that consumes her all over...

IN MIST
Dr. Sera Gibbons is one of only two human survivors after a five hundred year cryogenic freeze. Saved by the merman Bretton Hahn, she savors the way he caresses her and makes her live out her wildest fantasies...

Please note: the ebook version of the book is available exclusively on Kindle Unlimited. All other links are for the paperback print version. The individual stories in this anthology are available widely as ebooks.

Excerpt:

The snow tigress was in heat.

His nostrils flared. He could smell her desire from across the ballroom. Her scent called to him, tempting him to cast off the veneer of civility and take her in any way he could.

Mahlia Najla Mohan.

His mate.

Longing warred with sadness at the thought of her. Of their lost child. Pain exploded in his chest, choking him. No. He would not think of that. He could not. The agony would drive him to his knees.

"Amir Varad." His manservant's voice pulled him back to the present. Varad pasted a charming smile on his face, appearing the besotted male who would soon have his mate begging him for the surcease only he could grant her. And possibly conceiving an heir to the Vesperi throne. A new heir.

"Welcome back, brother." Taymullah's hand clapped on his shoulder.

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Varad quirked a brow at the shorter man. And he was a man; the boy he'd left behind six months ago had grown into someone Varad hardly recognized. The last half Turn had been a difficult time for all of his family.

Taymullah's face settled into serious lines as he turned to look over at his brother's mate, Mahlia. "You have a great deal of work before you, Varad."

"I know."

Varad swallowed, his gaze tracking her movement. Mating on Vesperi was a complicated affair, only lasting from a woman's heat cycle to the next. Because Varad was here, no one would touch his woman. Had he not returned in time, it would have been a different tale. However, she could always choose to mate away from him. His gut clenched. No. Mahlia was his. Had been his since the moment he'd looked into her ice-blue eyes, so rare among his people. His treasure. She would have no other for as long as they both lived. Whatever tragedy they shared could not destroy the depth of emotion that had always pulled them together.

Gods, he was tired. Six months on a spacecraft for the trade run was more than he cared for, but he doubted the werebears on the planet Alysius would trade with anyone except him personally. Lord Kesuk was not a man to trust.

A genuine smile tugged at Varad's lips as he thought of the Arctic Bear clan leader. He wondered how the enormous man had fared after Varad had encouraged the tiny human woman to return to the werebear's caves. The man hadn't stood a chance. Lady Jain would have seen to it. Varad's grin widened. Mahlia would like Jain immensely.

And Kesuk would try to kill him when Varad returned next Turn, no matter how happy the werebear lord was with his lady. It would be an interesting fight. Varad flicked a barely visible piece of lint from his sleeve as he wondered who might be the winner. A tiger versus a bear. Yes, interesting.

He shook his head, marveling again that a spaceship could have drifted among the stars since before the Earthan sun had died. Two unaltered humans, Lady Jain and a young scientist, Sera, had survived a crash landing on the werebear planet. Humans were extinct now, having had no way to survive the harsh environments of the four colonized planets. Only gene-splicing with different animal species had made it possible for humans to survive at all.

He wondered how the two women would fare. Lady Jain had her new Bear clan to contend with, but Sera had insisted on journeying to Aquatilis, the planet that maintained the greatest level of technology from old Earth. He suspected her choice had more to do with her fascination for a certain merman ambassador than her need for machines.

"Amir, your guests await you." Varad's valet bared his teeth a bit at the word guests. Varad chuckled as he descended the curving staircase from the wide balcony. Unlike Taymullah, one of the few who had supported Varad's expeditions, his manservant disapproved of the trade relations with Alysius.

"Well, we shouldn't disappoint our valued visitors." A warning was in Varad's tone. He was the king here, the Amir, and his wishes would be obeyed by all. If he bore the responsibility of leadership, he demanded the respect that came with the position.

"Yes, my Amir." His servant bowed and backed away.

Trade had always been maintained between Vesperi and the Harenan weredragons, but many had thought Varad mad when he set out to find the other two planets. It had been a risk, he admitted. But what was life without risk? None could deny that the new flood of goods from the werebears and merpeople were good for all four planets. No matter how much his doubters might like to protest. He tried to cover his laugh in a discreet cough.

He sobered abruptly, the grin falling away from his face. Many of his people agreed that trading with the seemingly barbaric werebears was a mistake. They were a rough people, but he'd grown to respect them, especially Lord Kesuk. He sighed, the weight of his responsibilities riding heavily on his shoulders. He shrugged as if to shift the burden, but nothing could ease his troubles.

A sweet laugh rippled across the ballroom, and he wasn't the only one who turned to smile at the source. Mahlia. Another challenge to face. Whether it pleased either of them or not, he would soon have her.

The room gleamed with white marble and wildly colored swaths of fabric--all the ostentation a feline could need. He worked his way across the vast ballroom to her side, nodding to his guests, noting the flashing scales of the Harenan weredragons, the imposing bulk of the first Alysian werebear ambassador, the violently colored hair of the Aquatilian merpeople. An interplanetary gathering, just as he had hoped. Excellent. When he reached Mahlia, she was entertaining a merman and the werebear ambassador with a story about her inability to master the waltz as a child.

"Amira Mahlia." Varad's hand stroked down the length of her bare arm, tracing the tan stripes on her creamy skin with a fingertip. He savored the feel of her, enjoying the way her servant had gathered her long cream-and-bronze-striped hair on her head, leaving her shoulders bared in a laced black corset. One of her legs was exposed by the filmy deep-blue skirt slit to her waist. His cock hardened, the need to have her fisting his gut. A deep breath dragged her scent to him yet again. Only because he was so focused on her did he hear the soft catch in her breath before she turned icy blue eyes on him. The natural black lining that surrounded all weretiger eyes made hers stunning.

"Amir Varad." She attempted to curtsy before him, but he quickly squeezed her elbow to keep her upright. Even after a Turn, she was not accustomed to her role in society. Or perhaps she was still uncomfortable with him. It mattered not. His mate would not bow to him. She was his equal--the only true partner he had in his world. He inclined his head to her, and after the briefest of pauses, she followed suit.

"Your Amira was just telling us an amusing story, Amir." The sub-bass rumble of the werebear split the silence; a white smile flashed in his dark face. The hammered metal circlet welded around his massive bicep, a mark of his standing among the Bear clans, glinted in the light from the glowlight chandeliers.

"Yes, the Aquatilians wish you all felicity in your return." The merman's nasal tone and sophisticated speech demonstrated the difference between the merman's culture and that of the werebear. Only Mahlia could have charmed the two into maintaining a peaceful conversation for more than a few minutes.

"Welcome home, Amir." He turned to see Katryn, his mate's closest friend, approaching their group. Her dark hair rippled to her hips, and her golden skin was set off in a stunning white gown reminiscent of an ancient Grecian toga. The weredragon was beautiful, but the first thing one noticed about her was the purple scaling that crept from her wrists to her biceps.

Still, no other woman had ever called to him as Mahlia had. Anticipation tensed his muscles. Soon. Soon he would have her. Would have her legs about him as they rode each other, her slick heat tight on his thrusting cock. He bit back a groan and then traced a finger down the lacings of her corset. Her breath panted as her scent increased, surrounding him, commanding him.

The hunt would begin soon.

COLLAPSE

Dr. Sera Gibbons is one of only two human survivors after a five hundred year cryogenic freeze. Saved by the merman Bretton Hahn, she savors the way he caresses her and makes her live out her wildest fantasies.

Note: This story was previously published as part of the Carnal Desires anthology.

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“Bretton.”

He froze at the sound of his father’s voice behind him. Neptune preserve him, he had no desire to see the older man after a passionate session with Sera. It always left him confused and angry with himself for losing control. He shouldn’t want her, shouldn’t touch her. And yet he’d been unable to resist since the very first. A full Turn had gone by, and he’d been unable to slake his lust for the curvaceous scientist.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he waited for his father to draw abreast of him. Cuthbert Hahn looked every inch the senior counselor he was. He advised the Senate on all manner of political and social agendas. The Hahn family had always participated in the ruling of Aquatilis. Bretton followed in that proud tradition in his position as the chief ambassador to the other colonized planets. It was an important path before him, one he needed to perfect. He pulled in a deep breath and faced his father.

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Cuthbert’s nostrils flared. He had the slightly wide and flat nose of a merpeople—all mammals on the planet had been genetically engineered to have their breathing passages lined with gills. His turquoise gaze slid over Bretton’s shoulder in the direction of Sera’s quarters. He narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin, indicating that Bretton should follow. “I worry you’re getting too close to the human, son.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say.” Bretton’s jaw flexed. He had no desire to speak of Sera. He knew he should cease his relations with her, but what he should do and what he did were two very different things with her. He’d worked hard to perfect himself—as did all merpeople—but with her… He cursed himself for his weakness and her for twisting him into knots.

Cuthbert grunted, working hard to keep pace with Bretton’s longer stride. “You have a duty to your people. You don’t have time to become entangled with someone like her.”

“Like her?” The question ground out between Bretton’s clenched teeth. While he knew he shouldn’t be involved with Sera, it angered him to hear others speak poorly of her. She wasn’t a mermaid, so why did so many try to force her to act like one? But he could never vent his frustrations. In public, he had to act as though he was constantly improving himself. Before Sera, he hadn’t had to act, he had simply been what he should be. And anger and frustration—involvement with an imperfect woman—would cause scrutiny he didn’t want. He was a political figure, constantly under surveillance for any slip in demeanor.

“Emotional. Volatile. She’d make a poor mate for an ambassador. Especially the chief ambassador. You have an example to set. The ambassadorial corps must be cool, logical, and socially adept—she is none of those things. She’s the kind of woman who expects love in a mating.”

Bretton rolled his eyes. “Neptune forbid.”

“This is no jest, Bretton. I’m deadly serious.” His father caught his arm. Rabid intensity shone in his gaze.

Bretton snapped to attention and nodded. He knew what his father said was true. His hands balled into fists at his sides, but he kept his tone respectful. “I understand, sir.”

“Do not confuse physical compatibility with the makings of a suitable mate.” Cuthbert’s voice took on the lecturing tone he’d used when Bretton was a child. It grated to hear it now when he was a grown man.

“Sera is not Mother.” No, his mother had disgraced their family and left his father to live on a sea cow ranch at the very outskirts of merpeople civilization near the lost city of Pacifica. In doing so, she’d exposed them all to scorn for straying from the path of vigilant self-improvement. It had ruined his father’s career. He’d never be elected a senator or make the chancellorship as so many Hahns had before him. Now his father expected Bretton to fill the breach, to be everything Cuthbert could not.

His father gave a derisive snort. “Every woman is like your mother. I refuse to see you make the same mistakes I did.”

Bretton pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his father was correct. Mating with the wrong woman had all but ended Cuthbert’s political aspirations—and Bretton had no right to dishonor his family like his mother had. He smiled, but it held no amusement. It had taken the Senate very little time to realize that Sera didn’t respond well to authority—and the only one who had any luck garnering her cooperation was Bretton. So she’d become his responsibility. Regardless of his official duties, he had to stop seeing her in a personal manner. Had to stop touching her, lusting after her, dreaming of her.

Starting now.

He heaved a weary sigh and ran a hand across his forehead. The trade ship was the most important function of his position each Turn, and letting Sera distract him was an error he couldn’t allow himself.

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