Beware the Coming Storm... Breaker (The Price of Talent) Dystopian SciFi Romance by AK Nevermore Book Tour with Giveaway
Beware the Coming Storm...
Breaker
The Price of Talent Book 1
by AK Nevermore
Genre: Spicy Dystopian SciFi Romance
On an
alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of the population.
Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical mutations,
giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining
genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent
upon the exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting
them…
Self-exiled to the Outside, Flynn Scot is
oath-bound to a life of strict penance.
Cursed with a vicious temper and haunted by the blood-stained debauchery of his past, Flynn’s sworn off women, whiskey, and violence, and doesn’t give a damn about whispers of the coming war. He sure as hell isn’t in the mood to make good on a debt when it’s called in, especially when playing white knight outs him as a Talent, and the damsel in distress as his soulmate.
On the run from her future as a broodmare for the Source, escaped Talent Kara Jester is no distressed damsel.
And the last thing she wants is to be trapped in a blizzard with a surly—and frustratingly captivating—thug. Without the suppression meds holding her libido in check, her biology’s primed to procreate, and Flynn’s growled assurances that he won’t touch her doesn’t match the hunger in his eyes.
It doesn’t align with what fate has in store for them, either.
With elite troops hot on their heels and the border set to close, it’s a race to the North, away from Kara’s horrific future and towards the dark past Flynn wants to keep buried. Clinging to the shreds of his oath, he’s forced to choose between protecting the woman he’s afraid to love and letting out the animal he swore he’d never be again. Either may destroy him, if Kara’s secrets don’t get them killed first.
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Flynn put his
book aside and eyed the massive pile of wood Kara had brought in. She stacked
the last of the logs against the wall, pensive.
“You good?”
Her smile was
forced. “Yeah, it’s just so quiet. I’m not used to it.”
She knelt beside
him and unwrapped the compress. It’d long since gone cold. His gaze slid over
her inspecting his knee. There was a competence and economy to her motions that
gave the impression she was very good at what she was doing. He shivered at her
touch, and a muscle in his jaw popped.
She peeked up at
him. “Cold hands?”
“Yeah.” They
were, but that wasn’t the issue.
“You have to
stay off it.” She reached forward like she was going to ruffle his hair, then
pulled back when he tensed, biting at her thumb.
Goddamn it. That
kicked-dog look was back on her face. Flynn closed his eyes, fighting the urge
to pull her into his lap and tell her everything would be okay. Wasn’t his
fucking problem.
Lies, lies,
lies, lies, lies. Shit was gutting him. Why the hell he felt responsible for
her…
He wasn’t.
Couldn’t be. Couldn’t handle his own train-wreck. Adding her to that equation
would only get her hurt. Last thing he wanted was for her to see what a monster
he was. For whatever had been in her eyes before to snuff out.
Screw her not
thinking he was a white knight; she’d despise him.
His stomach
churned, sick over it.
“Mind if I put
on some pants?”
Kara stared at
her hands, fingers laced together. “As long as I can get to your knee.”
“Grab me those.”
She got his sweats, and he moved the recliner back upright, feeling like an
absolute dick. He jerked his head at the cupboard. “Couple cans of soup in
there, if you’re hungry.”
She hopped to,
like he’d given an order. Flynn’s brow furrowed, pulling on the sweats. What
was that about? It was like a part of her had just shut down—
He bit back a
groan. That look she had before. The one where he’d sworn she thought she was
fucking defective or some shit, and he’d been flat out rejecting her advances.
Christ, he wanted to kick his own ass. Having an ugly prick like him say no had
to be great for her ego. Motherf—
“How do I…?” She
was turning a can over in her hands, frowning.
“Opener’s where
you found the forks,” he muttered, watching her push around his meager supply
of cutlery. God, he was an asshole, and there wasn’t anything he could say
without making it worse.
“This thing?”
She held it up for his inspection.
“Yeah, just clip
it on and turn the wheel.”
She put her back
to him, and it sounded like she was botching the job. Like she needed another
blow to her confidence. Flynn sighed, hoisting himself up. So much for staying
off his knee.
“You shouldn’t
be—”
“I gotta piss.”
Kara turned
away, flushing. He limped the six steps to the table and steadied himself with
a hand to one side of her, grinning before he could help himself. She was so
frickin’ adorable fumbling with the damned thing. How could you be
clueless about operating a can opener?
“Here, just—no,
not like—come here.” He moved behind her, adjusting her grip, and firmly
clipping it onto the side of the can. Damn, she smelled good. As in
there-goes-taking-a-piss-right-away good.
“Go on, turn
it.” Her fingers were long and slender beneath his. Smooth.
“Like this?” she
asked, peeking over her shoulder at him, all innocent and sexy as hell. It
twined around him in that heady musk. Flynn’s eyes dropped to her lips—
Fuck, he
couldn’t do this.
“Yeah.” He
reached past her to grab a stout stick leaning between the cabinet and the
wall. Woman was killing him. “Next one’s all you.” He lurched into the
bathroom, cursing himself.
Kara’s bra hung
limply from the curtain rod, mocking him. He ran the water, splashing the
glacial iciness over his head, hard-on throbbing for the umpteenth time today.
Pretty soon frostbite wasn’t gonna be a deterrent to jacking off.
And he was
supposed to take her north.
Fucking Cal.
Nothing had gone
right since he’d answered his call. And now he was stuck with her and a mandate
hanging over his head. Keep his dick in his pants. The hell he would, she
wanted him, and if she kept offering it up, who was he to say no?
Flynn blew out
noisily, scrubbing at his face. No. That wasn’t him. Not anymore, and she
deserved better. Emotions running riot, he doused his head in the sink, soaking
his shirt in the process.
Whatever. It
stank, just like the rest of him. He peeled it off and chucked it onto the pile
in the corner, sponging himself down. A Binder. Why the hell did she have to be
a Binder? Bred for talent and beauty. They’d done a bang up job with her. Her
in that lacy bra flitted across his mind’s eye. Shit, those halos. He’d never
seen—Christ, he needed a cold shower. This goddamn knee. He wouldn’t be able to
keep his balance in there…though sitting in six inches of freezing water held a
certain appeal. He grimaced, grabbed his scissors, and snipped a few errant
hairs off his upper lip—
What am I doing?
He threw the
scissors back behind the mirror, disgusted with himself. He’d keep his hands
off her. Ducking his head, he sighed, staring down at his tented sweats, then
at the dirty laundry pile, and finally, the walking stick.
Fuck my life. How the hell was this
gonna work? He snorted, trying to remember the last time he’d had to hide an
erection.
Oh yeah, about
an hour ago.
AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.
Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.
She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.
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I'm really looking forward to reading this. Thanks for sharing and hosting this tour.
ReplyDeleteI hope you enjoy it Mike! Thank you so much! - AK
ReplyDeleteThe excerpt sounds really interesting.
ReplyDelete