Hotter on the Edge 2 Read online

  Hotter On The Edge 2

  An Anthology of Science Fiction Romance Novellas

  By

  Erin Kellison

  KC Klein

  Jessa Slade

  HOTTER ON THE EDGE 2

  An Anthology of Science Fiction Romance Novellas

  Copyright © 2013 by Erin Kellison, KC Klein and Jessa Slade

  "Gold Like the Sun" Copyright © 2013 by Erin Kellison

  "To Keep a Wife" Copyright © 2013 by KC Klein

  "Prince of Passion" Copyright © 2013 by Jessa Slade

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover design by Jessa Slade

  Cover image by Conrado

  Brushes by Obsidian Dawn

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as factual. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be scanned, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the authors.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Hotter on the Edge

  Gold Like the Sun by Erin Kellison

  To Keep a Wife by KC Klein

  Prince of Passion by Jessa Slade

  Thank You!

  Excerpt: Fire Kissed by Erin Kellison

  About Erin Kellison

  Excerpt: Dark Future by KC Klein

  About KC Klein

  Excerpt: Dark Hunter’s Touch by Jessa Slade

  About Jessa Slade

  Acknowledgements

  HOTTER ON THE EDGE

  The adventures begin here...

  ALL THAT GLITTERS by Erin Kellison

  TO BUY A WIFE by KC Klein

  ENSLAVED BY STARLIGHT by Jessa Slade

  "An exceptional trio of sci-fi romance novellas" 4 1/2 stars—Top Pick from Night Owl Reviews"I highly recommend this anthology to any fan of sci-fi romance" —Romanceaholic

  "Full of heat and excitement. You'll want this book on your shelf" 5 stars—Kissablysweetone

  HotterOnTheEdge.com

  GOLD LIKE THE SUN

  Erin Kellison

  Chapter One

  Enough.

  Hakan Frust grabbed his cousin Barton by his thick throat and smashed him up against the corridor’s wall. “You will not speak of my wife again.”

  A female staff member in Frust’s blue livery looked away as she passed with a hover-cart filled with fragrant white orchids for one of the wedding fetes later that evening. Small consolation that at least within the Frust residence gossip was less likely to travel around the Hub. Hakan didn’t really care if it did; Barton would learn to watch what came out of his mouth. His ever-rising confidence that the marriage would fail had finally gotten on Hakan’s nerves. He and his cousin used to bait each other when they were boys, but the subject of Hakan’s bride, Pilar Sol, was off limits.

  Barton’s eyes twitched to the side, and a blue current of electricity ran over his skin, jolting Hakan’s palm and arm with hot pain. Subtle body armor—designed to deter physical assaults. Hakan could smell the hair on his grip arm burning.

  His cousin had rotted these past few years. Hakan had counted on his help, but this Barton couldn't be trusted with one single chit—especially not after he'd outright stolen funds set aside for the expansion. The Nyer Transit Hub, seat of the Frust family’s inter-sector trade empire, regularly exceeded its capacity for human and cargo. Expansion was critical. The cost to cover it had been difficult to acquire. And trusted partners? Apparently impossible.

  Fine. Damn him. But fine. Barton was free to live high—he hadn't been born to responsibility. Why should he want to shoulder it now—most of it miserable—just because Hakan needed the help?

  But Barton’s recent criminal activities—those would stop. And insulting prospective business associates attending the wedding fetes—that would cease as well. But if his cousin uttered one more foul thing about Pilar, Hakan would personally make him suffer.

  Barton lifted a lip to sneer, so Hakan squeezed harder. Hakan could handle pain; he’d submitted to a tolerance program on Enceladus, and was glad he had. He wouldn’t give his cousin the satisfaction of a flinch.

  “You so much as look in Pilar’s direction, and I swear I will rip you apart, bone by bone.”

  Barton made a choking sound. Close, but Hakan wanted his agreement.

  The charge was starting to buzz Hakan’s teeth. Headache would follow. Arrhythmia, internal bleeding, and finally death.

  But then, Barton wasn’t getting any oxygen, so they were evenly matched. This wasn’t their first game of chicken, not nearly. As kids, they’d tasted the Hub’s myriad and strange pleasures too early for safety or wisdom. That Barton would stoop this low had killed any brotherly feeling Hakan had left.

  The bevy of naked Pilar look-alikes—a few with revolting erotic physical alterations—had been flushed out of the Frust main residence, where they had spilled from Barton's quarters.

  Thank gods Pilar hadn’t witnessed them for herself.

  Hakan shook, but from anger, not electrocution. “Blink once if you understand.”

  They’d formally married on Sol planet, her homeworld, but now the celebration was come to Nyer, which would be their home. The cheers from the welcome fete rose from outside the residence, where a lush private park, an oasis of Earth flora in the dark of space, now entertained guests from all over the sector. Pilar would be nervous, waiting for him. For all her accoutrements and style, she was not the urban sophisticate she pretended to be. Someone would try to embarrass her—but not Barton, if he wanted to live—and damn if Hakan wouldn’t be there to take the burn.

  Barton was trying to keep his eyes from blinking at all—idiot!—but impulse brought his lids down in a quick flicker.

  Good enough. Hakan released him and the electric-crawling sensation on his skin disappeared. He stepped back.

  Barton gargled a bit as he brought his weight to his feet, cocking his head to rid himself of what had to be a mean crick in the neck. He still had that smirk on his face though. So Hakan took the lightning strike of electric pain and punched his cousin across the jaw.

  Barton spun into a head-thumping belly-flop. Lights out.

  Much better.

  Hakan leaned on the wall to keep himself upright. The bolt of electricity from the strike had left floating gold pinpricks to obscure his vision. A warm trickle from his nose, the tang of iron at the back of his throat, and he had to concede that maybe he’d waited ten seconds too long to let go. His only regret, however, was that his lips were numb as well. Not so great for kissing his bride, and kissing Pilar far exceeded any of the exotic temptations the Hub could offer.

  He straightened his tunic and proceeded down the corridor. Staff could scrape Barton off the floor; these days staff were always scraping his cousin off some foot-trod surface.

  Another cheer, far off and muted so that the sound could also be a chorus of screams.

  Hakan cursed his plan. What had he done bringing that sweet girl here? She was as delicate as she was beautiful. Her life on Sol planet had not exposed her to the kind of danger present in the Hub. He’d thought her name would protect her, a great family that could trace its line back to the first convoys from Earth. Her wealth, too, which could command anyone’s respect. But the Hub was in the deepest, blackest of space, where starlight was a distant glitter.

  Nothing could
protect her here.

  ***

  Pilar extended her leg so that the narrow blade of her very expensive shoe crossed the neck of the black-clawed, purple-coiffed ‘stylist’ who’d just tried to prick her with a cruel-looking needle, most likely poisoned. “Who sent you?”

  And how in Sol hell did she get access to her boudoir? Anger and alarm crawled along Pilar’s nerves. Had to be someone high level—she took a deep breath to ease her racing heart. Someone with Frust family access—another breath, since the first hadn’t worked. Her panic wouldn’t subside, so she fine-tuned the emotion with a little humor.

  “That’s not how Elixir Suprema is used,” she told her assassin of the hair product she’d wasted during the charade.

  They could’ve at least sent someone who knew something about hair. Elixir was used to protect the hair’s shaft against the heat of the curling prong, not as a spray after curling.

  “Any self-respecting stylist would know,” she added.

  Pilar had experienced her share of assassins—the scavengers of Sol planet were bent on murdering her family—but at least they were intelligent about their attacks. And they didn’t waste Elixir, or wouldn’t if they knew its worth and how hard it was to get.

  With an ascending chime at the door, Reina bustled into the suite. Pilar’s gilt gown flowed from a hanger held aloft in her attendant’s hand. Reina hesitated, midstride, when she spotted the stylist panting on the carpet under Pilar’s high-bladed shoe. Then she lifted a brow at her mistress. “Problem?”

  Reina wasn’t one for hysteria either.

  “She wasted my Elixir.”

  “Not a crime deserving the death penalty,” Reina observed.

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” Pilar muttered. “But she did also try to kill me.”

  “Well, then,” Reina said, brightening, as she hooked the hanger on a light fixture so that the gown’s train wouldn’t touch the rug. “By all means, proceed.”

  The stylist’s eyes bugged. Her breath was sketchy. Pilar was frustrated enough to slash the assassin’s carotid, if only because security was going to grow unbearable because of her. Necessarily so.

  Nevertheless, Pilar kept her mood light. “Mother would tell me not to start my new life in a puddle of blood.”

  Reina smiled. “Your mother would also say ruthlessness is sometimes necessary.” This wasn’t her attendant’s first assassin attack either. Pilar almost pitied the assassin Reina’s impending questioning.

  The stylist started a slow reach for the poisoned needle she’d dropped when Pilar had flipped her over onto her back. Her assassin was an optimist.

  “How pathetic would it be if I admitted missing Mother already?” Pilar mused aloud. With Reina here, confidence replaced her momentary anxiety.

  She could do this, assassins included. Of course she could. She was a Sol, and she would honor her family’s name with courage.

  She couldn’t help that she missed her mother, and Mica, her sister, who’d just come home from some survey on a beta class world. Mica had been off discovering new vistas and creatures. Something to do with cataloguing species of feral whatnot, camping in the dire reaches of a dark planet. It sounded grubby and uncomfortable…and absolutely amazing.

  Now, at long last, it was Pilar’s turn. Adventure and excitement, and Hakan in her bed at night. Warmth rushed her just thinking about him. The way his mouth moved against her skin, his exacting and torturous attention to her most sensitive places.

  She exhaled satisfaction. “I’m in too good a mood for murder.” Her life was finally beginning. And so far, it was everything she’d hoped for. “How about we hit Cain and Abel at the zero hour?” Cain and Abel was an infamous Hub nightclub, full of high-end sin and debauchery. It was frequently featured on the celebrity comms.

  “Princess,” Reina lifted one of the stylist’s plastic gloves and fitted her hand inside with an elastic snap, “you’re booked solid for the next three days.” She stooped to retrieve the needle before the stylist’s crawling fingers could reach it and sniffed the metal. “Epitapherin.”

  Pilar looked down at her assassin, disappointed. “Paralysis? That’s a slow, cruel way to go.” She was genuinely hurt. Someone wanted her to suffer. “So uncalled for.”

  And now Reina was going to be even more careful, take more precautions. All warranted, Pilar had to concede. A dark light went on inside her mind—she’d have to find a disguise to get about freely.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Reina said.

  Mind-reader. Pilar wouldn’t let her mood sour. She’d arrived. Her new home was the most thrilling, diverse city in the sector. Her homeworld of Sol was verdant and beautiful, but it moved to the rhythm of the mica mines from which it got its fortune, and not the beat of her heart. So what if the Frusts had enemies? All corp families did.

  Reina gingerly put the needle aside. At her nod, Pilar removed the blade of her shoe. In one, swift movement, Reina both lifted and tricked the assassin into a tight hold. Father only employed the best, though he’d also seen to it that his daughters could take care of themselves.

  The door’s ascending scale chimed again. Pilar inhaled, ready to take on the next thing. So busy—people coming and going. Energy thrummed in the air.

  Hakan ducked his head inside. “You decent?”

  Pilar couldn’t contain her smile. “Give me a second and I won’t be.”

  Her husband was tall, his chest and shoulders defined. He had the Frust’s dark hair, but his eyes were a hard grey that followed her wherever she moved. Pilar knew she was beautiful—reflection bobs didn’t lie—but Hakan made her feel that she would always be so, in whatever state, preferably undress.

  The light in his eyes turned to fury as he spotted the assassin in Reina’s grip. “Damned gods, what happened?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Pilar waved a hand, as if to dismiss the matter. Reina was going to be a monster about safety anyway. Several meetings were already scheduled to review everything from Pilar’s personal guards, the Hub peace—though Pilar never liked law enforcement—to the chain of command in the event of a problem. Since Reina was the final link, what point was there in going on about the present episode? Besides, with Hakan here now, it was time to play.

  “I’ll need to open an investigation with Hub security,” Reina said.

  Ugh. Pilar had known she would, Epitapherin or not.

  Hakan’s shock turned into a white-lipped scowl. “Of course. And you’ll keep me informed of every detail. I’m so relieved you were here. My deepest thanks.”

  Pilar made a face at Reina—men!—who flicked a smile back at her. Maybe she should flip him onto his back to show him what she was capable of.

  Hakan caught the exchange. “What?” he asked sharply, still so angry.

  Pilar stalked forward. “Nothing.” He’d learn, eventually.

  Her hands skimmed up his fine, taut chest—his ceremonial sampri tunic was cut to suit, a silver brocade embroidered into the black silk. She rounded his neck to bring his head down for a kiss. Her fingers feathered through his hair. She brushed her mouth against his in anticipation of the press, sear, and flavor of her husband. But the answering movement was a little odd. She drew back and narrowed her eyes at him.

  His features eased a little. “I was electrocuted.”

  Interesting. Danger everywhere, then.

  She examined his face more closely. Dimples? Check, though he needed a shave. Devastating eyes? Check, shining down at her.

  She was dimly aware of Reina bustling the assassin out of the room and sealing the door behind her. Reina was more than a Sol employee; she was a long-time friend who understood her better than anyone else. Hakan would do everything he could to make Pilar at home here, but Reina would make certain that she knew the worst and could handle it. A little investigation into the electrocution event would be just the thing.

  But for the moment, Pilar explored her husband’s body. “Are there any other parts of you not functioning as the
y should?”

  He set his anger aside with some difficulty and replaced his scowl with the first light of a smile. “After the receiving celebration, perhaps you should conduct a thorough examination.”

  The celebration. The Hub had gathered to welcome home its scion and his bride. She had the gown and a new aura to amplify the effect of the mica mineral absorbed into the fabric’s fibers. She’d shimmer with all the glory of her homeworld, and hopefully make Hakan proud, too. She’d show everyone that she was the woman to match him.

  “If you think that would be wise,” she answered.

  His voice lowered. “Imperative. We have a duty to produce heirs.”

  Did he have any idea how he made her glow? She could barely contain her happiness. Corporate marriages were almost always arranged, as hers had been. Love was not a consideration. There were contractual stipulations about bastard offspring and the like, but nothing that even mentioned affection. And yet somehow, in the midst of all the negotiations between the parties, including the sudden rise of another potential suitor, she’d stolen the heart of the Frust heir, and had given him hers freely in return.

  She pulled away, sending him a coy smile. “Who’s going to do my hair now?”

  Actually, she preferred to do her own, but she hadn’t wanted to insult the Frust staff, who had gone out of their way with an elaborate schedule of services.

  She sat back down at the vanity and watched his approach in the reflection.

  Hakan stroked his fingers through the heavy, unruly tresses, massaged the base of her head, traced the line of her collarbone to the u-shaped notch at the base of her neck.

  Pilar tightened inside, her color rising. Was it possible to be this happy?