Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Libby Sinclair Presents: Hunted (Vampires in Space!)

Libby Sinclair Presents: HUNTED

Enemies by nature. Allies by necessity. Lovers by fate.

Bound for an off-world job, Morgan Sandoval had a fling with a sexy stranger during her final night on Earth. But it’s the last thing on her mind when her deep space transport arrives at its destination, and the crew and passengers are forced to abandon ship. She, and a small group, crash land in an escape pod, and are stranded miles away from civilization, with no way to communicate with the other survivors. Undeterred, she scavenges for supplies, and the group marches to the closest settlement only to discover it’s abandoned. Worse, people begin disappearing in the night then all hell breaks loose. As if in a nightmare, vampires attack, and her one-night stand is one of them. When he swears he wants to help her, can she trust him? Or is she just prey for the hunters?


The bartender set her drink before her and looked at him expectantly. He waived his credit pass over the counter to buy them both a drink. “Vodka.”

“Uh oh, looks like he had some friends.” She sipped her drink and glanced behind him.

Of course, the drunk had found his friends. Turin wouldn’t have a problem putting down a couple thugs but he’d rather get to know the woman beside him. And he had orders to keep out of trouble.  A bar brawl didn’t really sound wise.  “Let’s make them jealous then, shall we?”

He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Her eyes lit up, she tossed back her drink, depositing the empty glass on a passing server’s tray. His vodka sat on the bar, forgotten.  Didn’t matter. She smelled like she’d had enough for both of them.

They walked to the middle of the dance floor, the music thudding around them.  She pressed herself against him, every curvy, delectable inch of her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her sly smile revealing dimples.

She pulled him down until her lips met his ear. “Morgan.”

Her name seared itself into his memory.


Her scent invaded his senses until nothing else mattered. Roses, sugar, and alcohol. “I’ve never seen you here. From out of town?”

“Yeah. Here on business, headed back home tomorrow.”  The urge to get to know her was at war with the notion he couldn’t have attachments.  Not on earth, or any planet he lived.  It was forbidden.  Damn contract.

She smiled, swaying in the circle of his arms.  Morgan danced like flowing water down a stream, part of the reason she grabbed his attention.  She had a grace of movement rare among her kind.  Each move looked effortless and in perfect time with the music.  Her lithe body wriggled against him to the beat, distracting him.

He ran his hands down her back and rested his palm on her rounded bottom.  She squeaked.

“Is this ok?”  He felt like a teenager for asking, but he didn’t want to push her into something she didn’t want.  And he hadn’t been with a woman in…  He couldn’t remember.

“Yeah,” she laughed.  “Just fine.”

He hadn’t wanted a woman in ages. Turin desired more than to grab her ass.  She was going to be his undoing if he didn’t return her to her friends.  He couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

“I think it’s safe now.”  The song transitioned to another, a perfect excuse to part ways.  A quick glance at the bar confirmed the drunk had moved on.   

“Oh, but I like this song.”  She turned, leaning into him, her round bottom pressing against him.  “Just a little longer?”

He groaned.  She was bound to notice the bulge in his pants. And then what?  He’d be leaving in the morning and gone for weeks.  Months.  Her warmth was so enticing.

She spun again and faced him, her hands resting on his chest.  “I’m leaving tomorrow.  To start a new job.”

“Well, then don’t waste your time with me, your friends are right over there.” 

Before he could step away, she pressed her lips to his and heat shot through his body. Soft and supple, her kiss awakened a desire he’d worked hard to crush over the years. Her greedy tongue coaxed his mouth open until they met passion for passion.  Her soft moans drove him wild, the dance floor forgotten.

“Morgan.” He broke the kiss, his body screaming for her.

“My friends can’t offer the particular sort of fun I’m looking for,” she breathed, her bosom heaving against him. She nibbled her bottom lip. “I want to make the night memorable.”

“We’ve just met.” He ran his hands up her arms and pulled her grip from his neck. He held her hands to his chest, meeting her eyes. It was best they stop, before things got out of hand. “If you keep kissing me like that, I might not be able to stop myself.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say to discourage her.

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