REPLICANT is still on submission, but these characters recently came up while writing the third one in the series which is tentatively called Catalyst. I really, really enjoyed writing Jarana, Maska and Erik and am looking forward to finding out if my editor likes the story, too. I didn’t have a beta reader for this, so the only person to read it so far is my agent and she was pretty enthusiastic. Yay!
Until then, how about a short snippet of some angst. I do loves me some angst. 😉
When I heard him snore, it was all I could do not to get up and smash my fist in his face. Instead, I got up and left him there, lurching toward the door and slapping my palm on the panel.
I stumbled through the doorway and tripped over something in the dark tunnel. “Fuck,” I ground out, my teeth so tight, my jaw hurt.
I rolled over and nearly crawled out of my skin when I saw glowing, opaque eyes. They were like Kithran flowers, soaking up the moonlight and reflecting it back into the tunnel. Maska sat slumped against the dome wall, and he listed to the side like he’d just slid down the wall and stayed the way he landed…like he was too weak to sit back up. He’d plaited his long, ropy black hair and it pooled on the floor beside him. I reached out to help him and he hissed at me.
“Did you fuck him?” He pronounced each word sharp with a pause between.
He stared at me, his mouth so tight, his full lower lip nearly disappeared.
“Let me help you back to the med pod. You aren’t in any condition to be wandering the tunnels.”
“Wasn’t wandering, Tracker.” He braced his hand on the floor, sat a little straighter. “I was looking for you. Just didn’t expect to find you on top of Erik.”
That’s right, I’d left the privacy panels open. I opened my mouth to tell him Erik had moved on, to start the process of getting them used to the idea of Maska not staying and instead I shocked myself. There was just something about this man, something that tugged at my heart in the strangest way. “He’s drunk. Thought I was you.”
His lip curled. “How could he possibly mistake you for me. Even in the form he loves, I’m very different.” He raked his gaze down my crouched form. “You’re bony. Hard. Not his type at all.”
“Don’t worry, he clued in fast.” I let him insult me. The throbbing ache in my groin should have had me snapping his head off, but the four whiskeys and his obvious resentment over his helplessness touched me.
Damn, I had to get off this planet.