An outbreak has occurred on Spaceport Adana. Allied Planets has quarantined the 'Port, blockading all space traffic.
Captain Arrah Crace has volunteered her cargo ship to deliver medicine and vaccines, but she needs a security officer, a butt-kicker to protect her vessel and crew. She meets drop-dead-gorgeous.
Intelligence operative Lash Trag has a mission. He's a Beguiler, a man able to control the output of his powerful pheromones. Captain Crace is the only ticket to Adana and using his gift is a real pleasure.
Buy it today ~ Read an excerpt from Beguiled
Excerpt for Beguiled
“Looking for company?”
Arrah twirled around on her bar stool and eyed the tattooed bruiser. He stood nearly seven feet tall and had wear marks on his trousers where a weapon usually rested. Thakra Security checked all weapons before allowing entry onto the space station, but guys like the one standing before her would use teeth, fists and feet if necessary. He had the muscle, but did he have the brains to fulfill her needs?
The music was so loud she had to raise her voice. “Have you been vaccinated for the Raxa virus?”
“Blyat!” The bruiser lifted his hands, palms out as if to ward off her germs, and backed away. Quickly.
Arrah glanced around the bar. A working girl, her hands busy beneath the table, was entertaining two men in a corner booth. Three other young men were huddled in deep conversation at a table. She pegged them for smugglers. Her gaze flicked over the purple hair and empty thigh holsters, discounting them. Arrah wanted to control chaos, not encourage it.
Deciding to give her butt-kicker scouting mission another hour, Arrah ordered a second cup of coffee. Phadar would give her hell for sucking up stimulants instead of taking a long run in the hologram arena, but that was life aboard the Avira.
The combination of Phadar’s cool logic and Arrah’s gut reactions made for an efficiently ran, profitable commercial vessel.
“Mind if I join you?”
The rich, male voice sent a sensual ripple along Arrah’s spine. Would the face match the voice? Arrah turned and her breath caught as the man stepped beneath the lights running along the bar.
Better than the voice, his arresting face was accentuated with high cheekbones and vivid blue eyes. His hair was dark, straight, cut short and attractively spiked.
He smiled and heat flooded her chest. Whoa. He was the sun coming out after an ice storm.
No man smelled this good, looked this good, or sounded this good. Arrah blinked and inhaled. She had to be imagining him.
He leaned closer. “May I buy you a drink or another cup of coffee?”
The heat swirled lower, intensified.
“The coffee sucks here.”
“I know a place on Level Six where it doesn’t,” Lash said, placing his hand on the bar.
Arrah placed her hand on his. Warmth flared in her middle and a tremor ran the length of his spine.
He turned his hand, gripping hers.
Arrah noted the length of his fingers and strength in his hands. She slid off the stool.
It was then she became aware of his height and size. He wore a short-sleeved black shirt that showed-off his muscled arms and black slacks. Instead of heavy boots, he wore expensive shoes. A small traveling bag was slung across one broad shoulder. He wasn’t a bruiser or covered in tattoos, but there was something about him.
His stance was easy, but he didn’t slouch.
The music died away as Arrah and Lash walked out of the Blast Area and into the brightly lit corridor. On planets there were defined hours of light and dark, but in the void of space there was only dark. All AP spaceports ran on synchronized clocks, standard days. Ships operating under AP licenses used the same time clock, making interplanetary flight more efficient.
Thakra, like all spaceports, was always alight. Those living on the port sought darkness in their private quarters. Travelers had to rely on low-lit bars and rental cubicles to escape the bright lights.
The gloom of the Blast Area hid physical flaws, but light illuminated every imperfection--bad skin, crooked teeth, scraggly hair and cruel eyes.
Beneath the bright lights, Lash looked even better. His hair was glossy black, his teeth perfect and his blue eyes were framed with long, dark lashes.
She’d entered the Blast Area looking for a butt-kicker and had exited with drop-dead-gorgeous.