Lonely Shore Read online

  Lonely Shore

  By Jenn Burke and Kelly Jensen

  Book two of Chaos Station

  All they can do is live day to day…

  Felix Ingesson has returned to his duties as the Chaos’s engineer with Zander Anatolius, his ex-boyfriend-turned-broken-super-soldier, at his side. Hope means something again. But there’s nothing Felix can do to battle the alien poison flowing through Zander’s veins, or his imminent mental decline. With each passing day, the side effects of Zander’s experimental training are becoming more difficult to ignore.

  When the ruthless Agrius Cartel seeks their revenge—including an ambush and an attempt to kidnap the Chaos’s crew—Zander is pushed over the edge. He can no longer hide his symptoms, nor does he want to. But hurting Felix when he’s not in control of himself is Zander’s worst nightmare—when it nearly happens, he agrees to seek help. Even if that means trusting the unknown.

  As Zander places his life in alien hands, Felix appoints himself his lover’s keeper. And though he tries to be strong, he can’t ignore the fact that he might lose Zander…forever this time.

  Don’t miss the start of the series—Chaos Station is available now!

  67,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  I’d rather be reading. How many times do you say that during your day? I know I say it probably a dozen times through my day. I love to read, and I’d pretty much always rather be reading, so I’m always stockpiling books to ensure I never run out for the times when I can read. I’m thrilled Carina Press is able to give you month after month of books to add to your TBR pile, and May is no exception!

  In Lynda Aicher’s erotic contemporary romance Back in Play, fun, flirty and sexy-as-hell Rachel Fielding is the perfect distraction Scott Walters needs when the Glaciers refused to renew his contract. But he hadn’t counted on falling for her or purging his deepest secrets to her, either. Can their fledgling relationship survive the trials he has ahead?

  Edie Harris’s first romantic suspense, Blamed, was a reader favorite and she’s back with book two, Ripped: A Blood Money Novel, in which a sexy, hot-blooded spy coerces an ice-cold attorney to partner with him to wreak vengeance on the villain who threatens them both.

  Joely Sue Burkhart is burning up the pages and testing our boundaries with her latest erotic romance, One Cut Deeper. Her needs are dark. His are dangerous. For Charlie and Ranay, pain is their shared pleasure…until Charlie disappears, and the hunger Ranay loved in him may be even darker than she suspected.

  Alyssa Cole rocked our world with her first postapocalyptic romance, Radio Silence, and she’s back with sexy male/male romance Signal Boost, set in the same technologically devastated world. Months have passed since electricity, and society, stopped working; John is wondering if a life without internet is worth living when he stumbles across a hot astrophysicist who might change his life—and the world.

  Also in the male/male category and taking us to whole new worlds is Lonely Shore, book two in the stunning science-fiction romance series from Jenn Burke and Kelly Jensen. Zander and Felix are trying to make their relationship work, but two things stand in the way: a criminal cartel out for blood and the rapid deterioration of Zander’s mental health. It’s a game of duck and cover as they search for answers, and when they find one, the cost might be too high.

  2014 RITA® Award-nominated author Kat Latham’s Taming the Legend rounds out our romance offerings in May. In this passionate story of lovers reunited, legendary rugby player Ash Trenton fights to help Camila Morales—his first and only love—save her indebted sports camp…while also fighting to keep from losing his heart to her all over again.

  For mystery fans who like their mystery with a side of fun, you have to check out Ricardo Sanchez. You first met Floyd, the PI living his life as Elvis would have wanted, in Elvis Sightings. Now he’s back in Bigfoot Blues, and his newest case leads him to man-eating mountain lions, chupacabras and plain-old murderers.

  Coming in June 2015: Lisa Marie Rice delivers another awesome alpha hero, Julie Moffett’s Lexi Carmichael returns with further adventures and Julie Rowe launches a new romantic suspense military series.

  Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Dedication

  For Zed, our hero.

  Acknowledgments

  We would like to thank our editor, Deborah Nemeth, for encouraging us to be more bold. Her advice helped make this book special. As always, we owe thanks to the team at Carina Press for all they do to make every book shine.

  Thank you to everyone who listened to us ramble, and ramble, stress a bit and ramble some more. Not all writing happens inside the head, or in front of a keyboard.

  Co-writing means you never have to do it alone, so I’d like to thank Jenn for being there when certain tasks looked insurmountable. We make a great team.

  We really do, Kel. I couldn’t imagine going on this adventure without you.

  There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

  There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

  There is society where none intrudes,

  By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:

  I love not Man the less, but Nature more,

  From these our interviews, in which I steal

  From all I may be, or have been before,

  To mingle with the Universe, and feel

  What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

  —from Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage by George Gordon Byron

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Xihe Station, 2269

  “Yo, Zed, get that shit up here!”

  Just under a year ago, Zed had been a galactic hero—a super soldier saving humanity from the ravages of the alien stin. He’d been a major in the Allied Earth Forces with his own team of specialized black ops soldiers. He’d fought hand-to-hand battles against the green bugs, facing their poisonous talons without flinching. He and his team had saved a transport of civilians against direct orders. And now…He eyed the mounds of heavy, fertilizer-filled bags waiting to be carted into the cargo bay.

  Now he was a shit-shipper.

  Oh how the mighty have fallen.

  “This shit’s not gonna pack itself.” Flick’s wide grin told him that the novelty of carting around actual shit instead of the usual shit hadn’t worn off yet. His eyes sparkled and the gentle draft in the dock area tugged at his uncontrollable blond curls. He looked like a kid with a new toy, not a veteran ship’s engineer.

  Despite himself, Zed’s lips twitched. Felix Ingesson had never met a joke he couldn’t beat to death. He’d done it when they were kids at the Academy and everyone knew him as Flick—and that personality quirk hadn’t changed with the years, or his new home on the Chaos, or the fact he now went by the nickname Fixer most of the time.

  “You’re a riot, man.” Elias, the ca
ptain of the Chaos, disappeared into the cargo bay, presumably to check the load tie-downs. Unlike a lot of cargo ships, the Chaos depended on physical straps, not virtual restraints. Made sense to Zed—they wouldn’t crap out if the power died. And despite the recent upgrades to the little ship, parts of her were still held together by not much more than hope and stubbornness.

  “I try.” Flick jogged down the ramp to join Zed, coming to a stop with a bounce.

  Zed glanced over his shoulder. “Eli doesn’t need your help?”

  “Not much I can do. Tough to grip with this.” Flick held up his left hand and flexed the gnarled and misshapen fingers. He’d once worn a glove that helped him with fine motor control, but that device had been destroyed. He leaned against the stack of bags, a dimple flashing in his cheek. “‘Sides, you’re prettier to look at.”

  Being Flick’s lover technically wasn’t new—they’d tried it just before the galaxy had fallen into war nine years before—but Zed couldn’t stop the flush that crept over his cheeks. The past four weeks had been the longest they’d ever been together, and he still hadn’t gotten used to the flirting—not that he really wanted to. He liked that hitch in the gut and the rush of embarrassed pleasure. It reminded him of the good things in life.

  Lifting a bag off the pallet, he arranged it on the Chaos’s loader. It was an easy, simple task, one that required more muscle memory than thought. Flick helped shove the bags into place, keeping their edges straight and making sure there were no holes in the smart fiber packaging. The shit had been dehydrated for shipping and application, but its fertilization elements could be activated with a small amount of water. As they worked, Zed longed to return Flick’s flirting and share some banter to make the job go quicker—but the words wouldn’t come. Not how he wanted them to. Not how they would’ve a few weeks ago.

  Focus.

  He blinked, realizing that he was now staring at a fully laden cart rather than the few sacks he remembered loading. Pain ricocheted between his temples—annoying and enough to jolt his heart into a faster pace with its implications. He swallowed, surreptitiously looking around. Flick was smiling and shouting something at Elias, who was hovering at the gaping maw of the cargo bay. The words were lost to the pounding pulse in Zed’s ears, but no one was staring at him, no one was even looking at him. Good. All good. He’d lost time with that unintended Zone but not much. Just a small blip.

  Zed focused on breathing for a moment, to mitigate both the minor headache and the panic that threatened. There was no point in getting worked up. It was what it was and he’d known for two years that this was coming. At least the instances of Zoning unintentionally only lasted for a few seconds, thirty at most. It could be worse, right? He could still function. That was what mattered.

  Maybe if he repeated it often enough, he’d start to believe it.

  “Is your ship looking her age? Has space dust abraded away all the shine of her beauty? Restore her now with our patented InstaShine treatment!”

  Zed narrowed his eyes at the droid hovering next to them, holograms with customer testimonials spinning around its bulbous head. The pitch of the irritating mechanical voice reverberated, making his teeth ache along with his temples. “No, thank you.”

  The droid ignored him, which was just rude programming. “InstaShine can be applied in a matter of moments and have your ship looking like she was always the fleet’s flagship. On purchase, our automated washers will turn your tired old rustbucket into a gleaming—”

  Flick scowled. “Hey! The Chaos isn’t that—”

  Zed blinked. The droid was suddenly shaking, spouting error codes. He realized he was clenching his fist—and it hurt. His headache had intensified, too. Had he…?

  “Why the hell did you hit it?”

  He couldn’t remember hitting it, which meant—damn it. He’d Zoned. Again. Twice in a matter of minutes? Fuck.

  The droid’s holograms shattered into pieces before fading into nothingness. “Err—thank you for your pur—another happy—InstaShine—rinse commencing—”

  Zed straightened. “Oh no.”

  The droid vibrated for another instant before water burst forth in a stream powerful enough to shove the heavy bags of fertilizer out of their neat pile. Sputtering, Zed scrambled to grab them, envisioning one breaking open and spewing activated shit across the floor of the dock—oh God, the fees that would probably come from that. Flick, drenched in the spray, flailed and slipped. Zed automatically reached for him and lost his grip on the bag. He tried to secure it but managed instead to jab a hole through the smart fiber. Just a little hole. Maybe the water wouldn’t—

  Foam spurted out of the hole in the bag, a huge foul-smelling brown stream that forced the hole to grow larger to accommodate it. Zed jolted backward, but Flick, still on the slippery section of the floor, couldn’t escape the foam’s trajectory in time.

  The scream that emerged from his lips was worthy of any horror vid.

  “Flick!” The activated shit was mostly harmless, right?

  Steps pounded down the ramp. Elias stumbled to a stop. “What the fuck did you do?”

  The water spurting from the droid slowed to a trickle and it shook, dropping a foot in height before regaining altitude. “Would you like to leave a testimonial?”

  “I have shit in my mouth!” Flick wailed.

  “Thank you for choosing—pleasant day—our latest customer—’I have shit in my mouth!’” The droid weaved its way down the dock like a drunken sailor.

  Zed clamped his lips together, but when he heard Flick’s “testimonial” drift back up the dock again as the droid approached a new potential client, he couldn’t stop a snort of laughter. Not even his headache and what it meant could deter it. He tried, though. He really did. He glanced at Elias and realized his mistake immediately when he recognized the mirth dancing in the other man’s dark eyes. He might have been able to stop laughing if Eli hadn’t started.

  Soon, though, it was all they could do to remain standing upright.

  “This isn’t funny!” Flick had managed to regain his feet and was trying to clear his face of the vile brown substance. He grabbed chunks of it from his eyes and tossed it to the ground. “This shit stings.”

  “Shit.” Zed snickered.

  “Oh my God, I’m going to piss myself,” Elias gasped.

  “I hate you all.” Flick glared at them and took a step forward—only to slip and fall back on his ass. He collapsed backward and crossed his arms. “Fuck it. I’m not moving. Y’all can figure out cleanup.”

  *

  Shit stank. That fundamental truth was never more apparent than when shit clung to every pore. The smell was singeing his nostril hairs. Elias and Zed were laughing so hard, they could barely get a breath in, so they probably couldn’t smell him yet. Bastards. But as much as he wanted to stick with his threat and remain flat on the deck, Felix couldn’t stand the feeling of the shit oozing into his clothing and grabbing at his skin. He rolled onto his side and pushed up out of the slick puddle of brown nastiness, spat a glob of it onto the floor and grimaced as his teeth ground together, releasing the bitter taste into his mouth again. He dug a clump of something from one nostril and flicked it away.

  Zed and Elias laughed on.

  Felix stepped carefully out of the shit zone. He crunched crap between his teeth as he mentally debated whose ass to kick first.

  “Captain Idowu?” a woman called from the bottom of the cargo ramp.

  The smartly dressed woman wore station colors, but instead of the ubiquitous coverall dockworkers usually wore, she was attired in a tailored suit. Her hair had been gathered into a series of knots over the top of her head. Two different earrings dangled from each exposed ear. One was a holo, the other an emitter. The ever-changing configuration was distracting.

  Elias straightened out of his dead-man-laughing posture. “That’s me.”

  She opened her wallet and activated a holo. “Gert Balar, Xihe dock security. I have an order here for the c
aptain of the corvette Chaos, registration delta four…” She insisted on reading the entire registration sequence before getting to her point. “You are in violation of docking code 342 B.”

  “In Standard?”

  “Chemical contamination of the pier. The cost to decontaminate the affected area and surrounding zones will be—”

  “Hey, hey, wait a minute. The droid malfunctioned. It’s not our fault.”

  The argument quickly escalated.

  Felix had crewed with Elias for close to five years, eighteen months of that on the Chaos, their ugly but functional corvette. They’d learned early on in their partnership that Felix negotiated better with circuits than people. Leaving Elias to do the captain thing with dock security—Zed and his charming smile alongside—Felix made his way through Cargo One with the intent of washing the shit off his skin before it stained.

  Nessa O’Brien, ship’s doctor, stood in an open hatchway, swallowing, not coincidentally blocking his access to the interior of the Chaos. “You can’t come in here.”

  He’d never have taken Nessa for having a delicate gag reflex. She must have seen shit during the war. Worse shit. That joke was getting old fast. “Aww, Ness. This stuff stings. It’s burning my skin.”

  Nessa waved her medical wallet over his torso, where his SFT hung in a lifeless ruin, the smart fibers rendered catatonic by the sludge of activated fertilizer. The shirt was dead. “It’s mostly nonreactive, except…” Her lips clamped together.

  “Except in my crevices. Tell me something I don’t know.” Felix scratched at his arm, his shoulder, his neck and cheek. Thought about scratching his ass. “I need to get it off my skin.”

  “A shower isn’t going to get the residue out of your epidermis, and it will only reactivate the fertilizer that has already dried. We don’t have soap strong enough to counteract the process, and I’m not sure our water cycler can handle it.”