Petri is snug in the hands of the editor and I’m working on a few shorts to promote my favorite sci/fi space boys. I won’t have an estimated publish date on Petri until I get an eye on the edits, but I still have an eye toward spring. Below are two snippets. The first is from Petri, a scene right after Petri and Grokhaar’s first meeting. The second is from the first of the shorts with a much, much younger Grokhaar. Enjoy!
Subject 5691: Petri
He inhaled deeply, his fingers relaxing on the straps’ releases. A spicy scent masked the acrid sting of industrial grease and caught his attention. His brow wrinkled as he drew in another breath. It was an odd scent. Organic. Alluring. He inhaled again and savored the heady combination of sandalwood and male musk. His eyes opened and honed in on the captain. Why did the male smell so delicious? Was it by design?
The large Den’Lastrian had an exotic beauty that appealed to his baser instincts. Dark, russet skin glowed in the faint light. Rolling muscle flexed in his arms with each precise movement. Calloused fingers danced nimbly across the control panel. His shirt stretched over broad shoulders and tucked into a trim waist. Thick, muscular thighs flexed beneath worn trousers tucked into scuffed boots. A pair of titanium-tipped horns emerged from an unruly mane of deep auburn hair to curve up and slightly forward. Intricate designs were etched into the gleaming metal. He stirred more than just Petri’s lust for blood.
He ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs. He wanted to slide them in the male’s neck and drink deep. Not to kill, oh no. Not even to feed his simmering thirst. He simply wanted to taste him in every way possible. His gaze drifted to below the male’s waist and he licked his lips. Every way possible.
Heat burning the tips of his ears, he stared down at his feet and nodded. He’d blundered into trouble again, running his mouth before his brain caught up. One day, he was gonna learn to think first and then speak.
“Now, you’re gonna tell me what brought this on.”
Grokhaar winced and shook his head. Down that path lay monsters. The kind with sharp, pointy teeth and a healthy appetite for snitching calves. Treal was a favorite of the villagers—tall and wide and strong like a Den’Lastrian should be—and the son of the Elder’s oldest daughter. Nope. Nothing good could come of this.
“It wasn’t a question.” The male crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
It was a good glare, scary and fierce and intimidating. Grokhaar avoided the power in the hard, lavender gaze by staring straight ahead. Unfortunately, that put him at eye-level with the Elder’s muscular chest. Slender and wiry and with a sprinkling of dusky curls, his fingers twitched with the urge to touch.
Sand and sun, what was wrong with him? The sight of him standing there, all sweaty and big and male turned his brain to mush and made his stomach feel all funny. The same way Elukhan had when he stumbled upon her bathing in the oasis. Naked. He swallowed. Definitely not something he should be thinking about.