Freeker (12 page)

Authors: Ella Drake

Tags: #Science Fiction Romance, #Alien Romance, #Space Grit, #Space Opera, #Horror Romance, #Romance, #Antihero, #Antiheroine, #Monster Romance

BOOK: Freeker

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“Good. Now, don’t sheath those claws and take me to bed.”

His chest rumbled even deeper. As he lifted her into his arms and strode to the bed, he realized that she was the only one to give him orders that he was eager to fulfill.

It’d be a battle between them. To find their give and takes. To see who would be on top. Hell, even to see where they slept, in the nest or in his cabin.

But he anticipated that coming battle with relish.

“We’re going to fight,” he said as he snarled, exposing his fangs and running them over her neck.

“I sure hope so.”

Her legs came around his waist in a vicious vice and her nails scratched his lower back as she shoved on his pants.

“This is going to be delicious,” she said in a sultry voice as she stretched beneath him.

“And I’ll taste every delicious bite of you.”

“Use your fangs.”

With a groan, he bit her.

Freeker

Space Grit #3

Ella Drake

Published by Ella Drake.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Manufactured in the United States of America

First electronic edition, 2015 Deep into Darkness box set

Second electronic edition January 2016

About the Author

As a child Ella read every book she could get her hands on, which meant most of her dad's science fiction and fantasy collection. There she found a special love of elves, dragons and knights. Ella has worked as a waitress, cashier, and receptionist to a U.S. Senator, network admin, web developer and an all-around card-carrying geek. But she really found her stride when she found a way to combine her first love, Romance, with those fantasy worlds in her own writing. Ella is always happy to hear from readers. Links to all the usual spots can be found on her site:

http://www.elladrake.com

To hear about new releases, sign up for Ella’s new release announcements:

http://www.elladrake.com/announce

Other books by Ella Drake

Space Grit

Cinder Mated

The New Guardsman series

Demons of Florida

Future Tales

Wild Seas

Standalone Novels

The Forbidden Chamber

Novellas/Short Stories

Firestorm on E’Terra

Dragon Rodeo

Excerpt for Willing Skin

Space Grit #4
by Ella Drake

Her head slammed onto the table and her body flopped like one of those gooey worms in the bottom of a tequila bottle.

“The first time is the hardest.” The dirty, grimy tech leaned over her and stared down. His eyes bugged behind his goggles and his dark hair shone with grease in the dim light. She kept her stare on him, afraid if she closed her eyes, her body would implode. “Take it easy, lady.”

The tech hadn’t asked her name. She didn’t ask his.

“Is it done?” Her deep voice croaked and her eyes widened.

“Yeah. Takes getting used to.” He raised a brow and his smile slid into a sideways grin. “You’ll need to practice walking. The Scoriah have heavier bodies. Much taller. And um. Yeah. Practice the going to the john thing. And remember, don’t look at anyone else in the latrine unless you want your face broken.”

Her head jerked and she glanced down.

All the breath left her body and her face burned hot.

For thirty-two years her body had been pale, only slightly curvy, medium height, dark brown eyes and hair—and decidedly female. A human born on Ferrashi, a Geonate colony world that rarely saw visitors from its few far-flung child planet, she’d played different parts, been different things for different people, but she’d never been another species. Now she stared down a gray-tinged body with a mass of chest hair on a broad, muscular plane. Her hands lifted and the claw-like fingers nearly distracted her from what lay between her legs.

Her head thumped down on the thinly padded medical table.

She had a dick. That was fucking weird as hell.

“You gotta leave. Next customer will be here any sec. Go out the back door.”

“Need clothes,” she grumbled.

The tech shrugged. “Not my problem. You wouldn’t fit in mine, and you didn’t bring any. Out.”

Wincing, she sat up slowly, careful with her new body that tingled and tugged in odd places. Her elbows itched. Her mind spun like she’d just stepped out of a centrifuge. A headache pounded through the vertigo. She reached to massage her temple and poked herself with her new claws. Blood ran into the corner of her mouth and her stomach heaved. Swallowing hard, she spoke as if she’d swallowed a handful of whole Hemtai eggs. “Give me something to put around my waist.”

“Here.” The tech threw a brown-spotted, no-longer-white towel at her crotch. “Get out, or we’re both going to be seeing the brig. Trust me. Next client would escort you there himself.”

She slid her ass over the edge until her feet met the floor. Her knees cracked loudly and she wobbled. Fumbling, she got the scrap of material to cover her new genitalia and weaved toward the door.

“Remember all the instructions. That skin-suit will hide you from sensors, but humans won’t be anything to worry about if you run into the Scoriah. They’ll either beat you to such a bloody pulp that they won’t notice a human woman beneath the latest DNA tech mod, or they’ll space you. And again, there won’t be enough of you left to tell what species you are.”

She shuddered. It wouldn’t be a problem, though. She planned on avoiding the Scoriah.

The door shut behind her and she leaned against the dull silver corridor wall and took a steadying breath. There was no turning back. Not now. She’d used all her resources, all her favors, and this was it. If this didn’t work, there was no hope.

“Don’t stare.” The harried whisper was so low, she probably wouldn’t have heard it before wearing the skin-suit.

She wrenched her eyes open. A group of women and children hustled past. Clad in a bright yellow coverall with whimsical sprays of green dots all over it, a little boy stared wide-eyed as a woman tugged on his hand. Even in the muddied light of the station, the blush coating the young mother’s cheeks blared hot.

“Sorry,” she murmured in a deep burr that sounded nothing like her. This body would take getting used to.

The mother yanked her kid into her arms and ran down the corridor.

Clothes. She had no way to buy them and no idea where to steal them. Barefoot, with claws clicking, she trudged in the direction of the docking bay. One way or another, she’d get aboard a ship. She’d always managed to find a way out of trouble. Blending, slipping into a new role was her specialty. She could do it. It was that, or wait for the assassin to shove poison into her veins. And that’s if she were lucky.

To learn more about
Willing Skin
, visit:

http://www.elladrake.com/SpaceGritSeries.php

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Freeker