The
Bissari Confederation Series --
The Bissari
Confederation, is a confederation of planets and solar systems that united against
common enemies and found strength in numbers. This is the chronicle of the
current affairs and events of the Bissari Confederation.
Excerpt:
“What’s your
pleasure soldier?” the soft male voice purred, the words wrapping around him.
Thane ap del Kala
did his best to ignore the voice and the fingers, which trailed cautiously up
his thigh. He’d come in for a drink and sex, if he found the right person. Six
months on patrol in space along the borders for the Bissari Confederation had
taken its toll. Twenty-four hours left of a two-day leave while the ship
underwent minor repairs. He normally didn’t take a quarter of that, spending
just enough time away from the ship to find some relief. This time he’d taken
the whole thing, needing to rid himself of the stress and tension from the last
few months. The bar, a short shuttle ride from the star port, was clean and the
boys working were legal and healthy. It was his favorite place to come when
they stopped at the star port.
The edges of Thane’s
senses tingled. The dormant psychic link programmed only for his soul mate
vibrated. Every Karrgi knew the signs. One of the many humanoid races in the
universe and the Bissari Confederation, his people had innate abilities gifted
to them centuries ago. He knew when his soul mate was nearby. Every Karrgi knew
when they were with meters of their soul mates. He’d brushed off earlier signs
as the result from being in space and with out sex for too long. Now, within
feet of his soul mate, there was no disputing the fact. Growling, he shook his
head. Nothing good could come of meeting someone here. A bar on the fringes of
a star port was a decent place for sexual release, but not for finding a life
mate.
“I can do hard,
soft, fast, or slow,” the male said, his fingers dancing lightly over Thane’s
neck. “You could even spank me.” The words were soft, whispered against his
ear, followed by a flick of a tongue.
Thane finally turned
his attention toward the barfly. He knew their type, most were prostitutes
looking for money, some wanted a way out of their current situation, but a few
were simply after a good time. The practiced movements and voice that went
straight to a man’s cock told him which type this one was. Money was a strong
motivator. Briefly, Thane wondered what happened to make the boy choose this
option.
“Who runs you?”
Thane asked. He had no desire to enter into any sort of agreement without
knowing exactly with whom he would have to negotiate if he was right. And
everything proceeded like it should.
“I run myself.”
“Owner?” Thane
asked, unconvinced.
“No.”
“How long have you
been down here?”
“Maybe an hour,” the
man purred. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Don’t toy with me,”
Thane spat grabbing the thin wrist before it could reach his groin.
“Six months. Long
enough.” The voice lost its sultry sound but still connected with his cock.
Slowly, Thane let
his gaze wander over the would-be seducer standing in front of him. Taking his
time, using the full range of his senses and abilities, he looked the
barely-legal man up and down. Brown eyes peered out from under unruly sandy
hair. A small, lithe body radiated need—not the sexual need that the young man might
prefer, but the need to be loved and accepted. The thin, clingy material he
wore did little to hide anything, including the image Thane sought. In the
center of the younger man’s chest, over his heart was a pacing tiger in bright,
shimmering white—the boy’s soul mark. It matched Thane’s slightly bigger
version and that any Karrgi would see in green. The soul mark appeared green to
everyone, but one’s life mate.
Soul mark. Bond
mates. Thane mentally swore. If he didn’t bond with the man soon, there was a
strong possibility he never would. Especially if the boy continued to work and
live here. The idea instantly set Thane on edge. His man. His mate. Not some
common prostitute. Not any more. No one would touch his mate like that, again.
Ever.
“How old are you?”
he demanded. He knew the owner of the bar; too many military personnel came
through here for him to be even slightly careless about age.
“Turned eighteen
three months ago. You can check. I know the rules. Sixteen for consent and just
about anything else. Seventeen to work anywhere in any system. Eighteen if you
want in here,” the younger man recited and removed his necklace. A small pouch
hung on the chain, and he pulled out a one-inch metal disc and held it out.
Thane shook his
head, took the disc and signaled for a reader. The bartender nodded and smiled,
handing over a small square black and gray box with a large screen on the top
of it. “Name,” Thane demanded, staring at the rent-boy.
“He’s legal,
Commander. I did the verification myself,” the bartender said.
“I go by Wolf,” the
younger man bit out.
Thane nodded. Not
only had he found his mate in a bar, plying the oldest trade in the universe,
but the man wasn’t even Karrgi. He’d known it was possible, however rare, for a
Karrgi’s bond mate to be of a different race. The smaller man’s race didn’t
matter where the laws and traditions of bond mates were concerned. Age and
experience dictated that Thane was responsible for the younger man by Karrgi
law. Thane knew that now that he’d found his mate, he should leave military
service at the end of his current tour, return to his home world with his mate
and settle down. Should. It wasn’t a law, he didn’t have to. Not really.
Sliding the disc in,
Thane read the important details that verified the man’s age, identity and his
valid work permit before using his security clearance to read more of the other
man’s file. Taladari orphan. He blew out a breath. By choice or circumstance,
the man was parentless. Thane had dealt with the Taladari before. They were a
conservative, family-centered race of humans that passed information and skills
from parent to child. Children who were fostered or adopted would learn the
skills provided by that family. Orphans would learn whatever the State deemed
necessary and were left to fend to on their own. Removing the disc, he handed
it back.
“I think I prefer
Breyan or Tiger. You’re too young to be a wolf, and I’m not fond of Mykel.”
“Did you get my last
name too?” Breyan snapped.
“I did. Mykel Breyan
Treadway, son of Moira Treadway. I still prefer Breyan,” Thane replied. “I am
Commander Thane ap del Kala from the Karrgi home world of Ragini.” He could
easily use his security clearance to find out what happened to lead Breyan to
this path, but he wanted more than that with his mate. He wanted there to be
trust and communication between them.
“You look good
enough to eat Commander,” the man purred.
“I’m in no mood to
stay here and flirt. I assume you have a room somewhere.”
Breyan nodded. “Five
minute walk from here.”
“Let’s go.”
“You—I—yes sir.”
They walked the
three blocks to the large house where Breyan had a room in companionable
silence. The place was small, but clean and neat. A large bed dominated the
area. A kitchenette was in one corner and a door was in another. There was
little to suggest that the occupant wanted to stay here or actually lived here.
“How long have you
lived here?”
“Two and a half
months. I got it when the guy living here previously met someone and moved in
with them.”
Thane nodded. “I
want to see all of you.”
“Details first,”
Breyan said, suddenly looking nervous. Thane knew the look, had seen it plenty
of times on new recruits. It was the one that told him the person just realized
they had monumentally screwed up.
“Details, yes.
Prices, no.”
“No. I’m not free,
and if you’re not paying, I’m not willing.”
Thane smiled and
stepped back. The kid wasn’t completely stupid. But, if Thane had been like
some men, those words would mean nothing, and he would take what he wanted from
Breyan. Depending on the investigator afterward, the claim of rape from a rent
boy wouldn’t be worth reporting.
“I’m Karrgi, and an
officer in the Bissari Confederation military.”
“And that means what
to me?”
Thane blew out a
breath and ran a hand through his hair. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on
Breyan’s chest.
“The Karrgi know
when they’ve met their soul mates. In Ragini and other Karrgi home worlds, it’s
easy to meet your mate. For those of us drawn to space, it’s more difficult.
Our legends tell us that generations of wandering and centuries of war led to
the development of a special psychic connection. We can look at a group of
people and know in moments if our soul mate is present.”
“How?”
“We can see soul
marks.”
“Soul marks?”
“Everyone has a soul
mark, something that is indicative of the person, of the couple and a matching
pair binds two souls together. One mark will call to its mate and change color
in the presence of that mate. Your soul mark tells me that you’re my soul
mate—that you belong to me and I to you.”
“I don’t have any
marks,” Breyan protested. “Do they appear after sex?”
“A soul mark
isn’t a physical mark. It’s part of your soul. After sex, we’ll share a bond
that usually includes a mental connection and an increase in sexual energy. My
eyes, Karrgi eyes, will turn green, the color of life, love and purity. A trait
that I’ve never heard another race share. Sexually, we’d be sated only by each
other.”
Solar Storm -- Book 2
Baynebridge Cormack, youngest son of a high powered business
man, lives a reckless and carefree lifestyle. While on vacation with friends,
the luxury starship they are riding on rips in half, separating Baynebridge
from his friends and leaving him with life threatening injuries, vulnerable to
kidnappers and slavers.
Rogan, Captain and owner of the SkyHawk, takes the
young man aboard when no other ship will, knowing the danger he’s in and tries
to hide his whereabouts from those trying to force the Confederation’s
political hand.
The two men fall in love unexpectedly, but can their love
survive run-ins with saboteurs, kidnappers and unexpected danger from within
Baynebridge’s own family?
Excerpt:
Red lights flashed. Sirens wailed. Bayne Cormack sat up in his bed and
rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His gaze swept through the large slate gray
room and landed on the empty bed next to his. He wondered where his friends
were. And why the irritating alarm was sounding. Someone had to have an
explanation. He’d paid too much money to be woken up in the middle of the night
for something stupid like a drill.
Pulling the sheet from the bed, he wrapped it around his waist. The blue
accents appeared to be an eerie shade of purple in the red flashing light. The
door leading to the main living area of one of the luxury starliner’s stateroom
slid open partway then stalled before continuing to open. Hanging onto the
sheet with one hand he ran to the cabin’s second bedroom, swearing when he
found it empty.
Heart pounding, he ran through the cabin and pressed the control panel
next to the door. It hesitated before sliding open. People in the blue and gray
uniforms of the Centuriian Starlines rushed by, occasionally joined by the dark
blue uniforms of Bissari Confederation military personnel.
“Brace for impact!” Someone shouted.
“Why?” Bayne asked, disbelief swirling. They were supposed to be on a
pleasure cruise, a scenic trek through a couple of star systems before they
reached their final destination. His thoughts turned to his three friends. They
had all spent the evening drinking and dancing in one of the starliner’s many
clubs, and each one had hooked up with a different man. Although, if Bayne knew
S’yvyn, there was probably a woman in with them somewhere. The man found
himself playing with more couples than anybody else Bayne knew or probably would
ever know. Bayne shook his head and wondered where his friends were and if they
were okay.
“What’s happening?” a female voice asked. A middle-aged woman peeked out
of the room across the hall. She looked irritated and scared, echoing his own
emotions. He took a deep breath and schooled his features into a long practiced
blank façade.
“Don’t know,” Bayne replied, the noise from the alarms wreaking havoc
with his head. “Was told to brace for impact.”
“Why?” A younger looking man asked joining the woman.
Bayne shrugged. “Didn’t say.”
“Pirates maybe?” the woman asked, paling.
The man shook his head. “Maybe we’re going to hit something.”
Bayne nodded, outwardly agreeing with the man. Pirates would be bad.
They’d been known to go after smaller starliners, but he’d never heard of them
attacking one this big. Hitting anything heading for Van Tora Kai was generally
considered suicidal by everyone, since the planet was home to a huge military
force. Service personnel always fought back, usually taking the lives of
pirates, not bothering to hold them prisoner.
“Rogue meteor,” Bayne offered.
The man shrugged his agreement and pulled the woman back into their
stateroom. Bayne watched the door close behind the couple and contemplated his
next move.
An older woman in a dark blue uniform bellowed into a communicator as
she rushed down the corridor. “Push the override. Open all the goddamned doors.
We’ll be sitting ducks. Get the Mayday out!”
He recognized the uniform insignia and rank. She was either the captain of
the starliner, or more likely one of the military starcruisers.
This ship was owned and operated by Centuriian Starliners, a civilian
company, and had a final port at Van Tora Kai. The space station funneled
tourists to one side of the planet while transporting service personnel to the
other side. The planet housed the largest military academy and training grounds
dedicated to space operations in the galaxy. It was the reason why he and his
friends had taken this trip, a last hurrah for Garek, who had followed family
tradition by applying for and being accepted into the academy. Eventually he
would become an admiral, but first he was looking forward to years as a pilot
in the military’s latest starfighter.
The first tremors hit the ship, and he lost his footing. His body
lurched forward into the wall and then sideways down the hall. Somewhere along
the way he lost hold of the sheet he’d used to cover himself. Pushing his arms
out, he tried to stop tumbling about, grasping at anything he could use to secure
himself. The ship creaked and groaned. People screamed. Bayne’s left arm
throbbed from where he had landed on it. The ship rolled from side to side,
tossing him along the corridor as he tried to get back to his cabin. Pain
lanced his body. His right arm bent at an unnatural angle. Blood tickled the
side of his head. Lights flickered and died. Artificial gravity went offline
and he found himself floating to the ceiling with everyone and everything else.
“Why hasn’t the generator kicked on?” Bayne demanded. There were shouts
and screams, but no one answered his question.
He needed to get dressed and to find his friends. Keeping his injured
arm close to his body, he tried to pull himself along the ceiling to his room.
The continual rocking of the ship along with the appearance of more and more
debris made any real progress impossible. Everything from clothes and bedding
to dishes, toys, and pieces of metal meandered through the corridor, their
momentum driven by starliner’s movements.
Metal crunched. The ship lurched violently back and forth. Bayne reached
out, catching the doorframe leading to his cabin with both hands as he was
about to fly past it. He screamed in pain and pulled himself forward.
Agonizingly slow, he dragged himself into the stateroom, now dreading how big
it was, and slowly moved toward the bedroom. The ship pitched and rolled,
flinging him from one side of the cabin’s main room to the other, colliding
with cushions, empty glasses and decorative items. He slammed against the wall,
cursing when a chair that either hadn’t been bolted to the floor or had worked
its way loose hit him. His head bounced against something hard. Darkness
engulfed him.
****
Bright light shone from behind his closed eyes. Bayne blinked rapidly,
he could make out blurry moving shapes from where his body had become entangled
with some of the furniture. He tried to move, but his body protested. He cried
out in pain before he could think to stop himself.
“Help!” He called out. His voice sounded rough and foreign to him, his
throat raw. “Help!”
“Shit! Live one!”
“Hold on kid!”
Bayne nodded and closed his eyes. The light and pain burrowed into him.
He hoped his friends were okay. He’d never be able to face anyone if they
weren’t. The cruise had been his idea. Rough hands grabbed him.
“Hold on kid. We got you. That med transport still around?”
“No sir. Said they were overloaded as it was, they were heading—”
Bayne lost the fight to stay conscious.
****
