a look at ‘The Time’ by Peri Elizabeth Scott #Dystopian #YA


Excerpt:
The quick retreat
wasn’t totally silent. She could hear the sounds of the others, moving quickly
along parallel lines to her own painful effort. Wondering how long she could
keep the burst of energy up, she noted the noises diminished as people worked
their way outward like the spokes of a wheel. Four hundred paces and the air
burned in her lungs. Sh e fought the tough terrain and avoided the thickening
flora, the damn sled hanging up at each and every turn. Her arms burned with
the desperate efforts to free the runners and the hound whined with pain.
Six hundred paces
had her bent doubled over with a stitch in her side. She went to her knees when
the ground sloped away into a small ravine, nearly causing her and Gehlert to
tumble into its depths, the momentum of the heavy sled a terrible burden. It
was the dog who saved them, digging his forefeet in and throwing his body
weight back to settle on his haunches. She hugged him fiercely, his pants and
thundering heartbeat mirroring her own.
Skirting the
ravine took them well away from what she reckoned was a straight path outward
from the original starting point. She scanned the treetops in a near futile
effort to reorient herself. The filtered light told her the sun was at four
o’clock, so she deviated slightly to her right and pushed on, wondering where
the strength to do so had come from.
Having lost count
of her pacing, she chanced another three hundred, using images of what would
happen if they got caught to spur her on. Certain they’d walked a half
marathon, she chose a thick clump of gorse bushes, insanely wondering how
they’d come to flourish this deep in the woods. The hound stepped away from the
harness the instant she freed him and staggered sideways to collapse on a bed
of leaves and other organic debris. Doggedly working to separate the lower
branches of the bushes and wincing at the spiny press of the remaining leaves
despite the cover of her thin gloves, she managed to secret the sled, or at
least muddle the outline of it. She bent thinner twigs to camouflage it further
and made herself take the time to stand back and take as critical a look as she
could. Satisfied, she found another clump of the same vegetation and crawled in
backward, stopping only when her feet couldn’t press any deeper. She then pressed
a dog sized space open to her right.
“Gehlert.” Even a
whisper hurt her parched throat, but she was rewarded with a faint thump of his
tail. “Come.”
The hound visibly
considered her command, ears lowering and eyes drifting before he levered
upward, limping to her. He’d pulled more than his weight and was clearly on the
brink of exhaustion. Even in the dappled light she could see where the harness
had cut harshly into his hide, the thick guard hairs rubbed away. She wanted to
cry. Blinking hard, she swallowed against the emotion.
“Here.” She patted
the small space beside her and he obligingly wiggled in, somehow turning in
place three times before he settled down. Draping an arm over him, she tugged a
few branches into place over, poking herself in the cheek as she did so, then
dropped her head onto the fertile earth.
After a time, her
heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal, as did the hound’s, although
he hitched from time to time with a little gasping noise. At last, she could
focus on her surroundings and actually hear the forest sounds, the faint creak
of living wood, the rustle of a small breeze among the remaining leaves, and
the occasional call of a bird. The ground was reasonably warm, despite the
approach of winter, and with Gehlert pressed close, she wasn’t terribly
uncomfortable. She only wished she’d thought to bring one of the water bottles
into her makeshift shelter, her body crying out for moisture after the forced
march.
Time crept by and
she became aware of how her pistol rested with solid intent against her belly,
the barrel grinding into her hip. Seeing that her weapon was the only thing
between her and whatever was out there hunting them, she cursed fluently under
her breath and hitched up enough to worm a hand beneath her. With some
judicious pulling and peeling back of the layers of clothing, she was able to
free the butt and work the pistol out from under her, blessing her foresight to
set the safety. She brought it up beside her head, one finger through the
trigger, palm resting lightly against the pommel, before she flicked the safety
off.
The hound
stiffened beneath her lax arm and she strained her ears, suppressing a shudder.
Perhaps it was one of the others, off course and passing by, still trudging
those thousand paces, that had alerted him. Or an animal, picking its way
through the trees. Alas, it was the base notes of a number of male voices she
heard, far off, their words indistinct, distorted by the numerous trees and the
uneven terrain—and the sudden escalation of her heartbeat. Stark terror froze
her in place, chilling her blood, making her sex draw up in self-defense. Her
belly clenched in on itself and goose flesh broke out all along her spine. Air
rushed in and out of her nose as she tried hard not to pant, knowing how
foreign the sound would be, how easily heard if someone cared to stop and
listen. Her dog shivered in response to her angst and made a faint whine.
That whimper
awakened her higher brain functions and she gained control. With a firm
squeeze, she signaled Gehlert into silence. They huddled together and waited as
she held her weapon at the ready.
Disjointed phrases
drifted to her ears, accompanied by faint crashing sounds of something larger
than a person.
“…signs of at
least…”
“Over here!”
“…nothing…”
She was certain
she felt a cold stare focused on their location, something malevolent and
inhuman, and remained as still as possible, willing their hidden forms to blend
into the surroundings. Nothing to see here. Just more trees and underbrush. She
prayed there were no dogs, and cast her eyes down, refusing to risk even that
chance of a flicker of awareness.
Minutes passed as
she counted the seconds. Three hundred and sixty, then six hundred and sixty.
Eleven minutes, give or take. The evil stare lingered in her imagination, or
perhaps its owner was still out there, patient as a spider. The adrenalin
leached out of her muscles, leaving her spent and far more fatigued than ever.
She wouldn’t move, wouldn’t make it easier for whoever it was out there to find
her, but felt as though she had nothing left to defend herself if he did. Her
pistol seemed impossibly toy-like against the threat and her knife was still in
her boot.
 

Author Bio:

Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. After closing her private practice as a social worker and child play therapist, she joined her husband in running their season business where they pretend to work well together.

Writing for years, The Time is a departure from her usual romance genre, but it was a story that had to be told!

Peribeth also pens erotic romance under a different pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.

Transcending Fire is here! #NewRelease #MCRomance #Futuristic #Erotic at @evernightpub

Hello! It’s here! My story Transcending Fire is available. Now I get to share this erotic, futuristic, dystopian story based around different motorcycle gangs with you!
A man dealing with an Earth in chaos. A woman from an alternate universe hoping to find her destiny. Two motorcycle gangs and a real bad ass who wants to ruin everything. What’s not to like?

And look at this lovely cover! Isn’t it beautiful? Cover Artist, Jay Aheer, is fab!

~ Blurb ~

* Hunter Macario wants one thing—a place to belong. When given an opportunity to solidify his position in the motorcycle club, Devil’s Thunder, he takes it.
* Dragon’s Clan member, Safaia King, believes she’s found the man from her people’s legend and her dreams. She has one goal, even if he’s in a rival club—to make Hunter hers and keep him safe so he can fulfill their destiny.
* After Hunter makes a huge mistake, he’s sent to where Safaia lives—an alternate universe called The Den. In this new world, sex, battles, and secrets abound. Hunter must survive The Den to right some wrongs or else he could lose everything he’s ever gained, including his home and Safaia’s love.

~ Adult Rated Excerpt ~

* A wicked glint lit her eyes, and a playful grin spread across her face. She smoothed a hand down his hard chest. “I love the definition of your muscles, Hunter, how they shudder beneath my fingers when I touch you.” Inch by inch, she continued sliding her hand down his torso. She moved her hand between his skivvies and skin. Saf circled his cock and stroked him in time with the motions of his fingers within her. Desire pulsed through his body, setting it aflame. She pressed her face against his chest and playfully bit his pectoral as she rode his hand.
* Adrenaline and arousal increased his breathing rate, and a warm buzz raced through him. The pull between them seemed so intense, undeniable, as if they had to be together or perish. He felt like one of the club’s customers addicted to black chip and needing a fix before he went crazy with want. And his drug of choice?
* Safaia. Always and forever Safaia.
* He wanted to eat her up. “I want to taste you. Lick up your juices and have you squirm beneath my face.” Hunter yanked down her jeans and repositioned her until her ass was at the edge of the boulder.
* Sinking to his knees, he placed himself between her legs. Looking forward to tasting her sweetness and feel her softness after facing the harsh realities of his life, he traced a line of gentle kisses along her inner thigh from her knee to her pussy and then fastened his mouth on the sensitive folds between her legs. When he dipped his tongue into her canal, she shifted her butt to allow him better access. He reached up and snaked his rough hands under her shirt, concerned only for a moment whether she enjoyed or loathed the coarse touch of his dry, work-worn skin. She moved the cloth and her bra out of the way.
* Seems she doesn’t mind.
* Pushing away all his thoughts and focusing on her—his carnal treasure—Hunter kneaded her tits while he teased her clit. He loved the taste and scent of her musky flesh and lapped up her essence as he said he would.
* She grasped his head, weaving her fingers in his hair. “Oh, great Universe. This is. This is.” She panted and grappled with his locks as a low, deep moan rolled from her throat. “I think I’m going to come.”
* The first night they’d met, their lovemaking had been hot and fast, more wham bam thank you than let’s linger and relish this. This time, though, he wanted to savor her, make her feel all sorts of naughty pleasure as he took his own.
* Saf bucked and tried to scooch away, but he grabbed her hips and kept her from moving away from him. Unrelenting, he tongue fucked her. She struggled and wriggled, but he continued his assault, plunging his tongue in and out of her, licking up her wetness, and nipping at her clit. Safaia pressed the back of his head and lifted her ass. Spasms racked her body. She cried out his name.
* Bringing her to orgasm thrilled him, but his selfish streak came forward. He wanted to enjoy her and feel his own pleasure, so he rose, stepped back, and removed his jeans.

Buy Transcending Fire here…
Evernight Publishing has all the formats you’re looking for!

Thank you, dear reader, for taking a couple minutes to read up on my story. Use the buy links above to purchase a copy, and after you’ve read it, don’t forget to leave a review! We authors really appreciate them. 🙂

A peek into my long awaited release ‘Transcending Fire’ #ComingSoon #Dystopian #MCRomance

Hello! It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a release, and now I can say all that will be changing! My story Transcending Fire is planned for release on September 5 via Evernight Publishing. This erotic, futuristic, dystopian story based around different motorcycle gangs has had quite a journey. Perhaps one day I’ll share the two-plus-year jaunt this story went through to find a home. Luckily, it finally has. Even with all the trials it went through, I still love this story. It’s one of my favorites that I’ve written, and one that I didn’t get tired of during the editing process either. Yay!
A man dealing with an Earth in chaos. A woman from an alternate universe hoping to find her destiny. Two motorcycle gangs and a real bad ass who wants to ruin everything. What’s not to like?

 

~ Blurb ~

* Hunter Macario wants one thing—a place to belong. When given an opportunity to solidify his position in the motorcycle club, Devil’s Thunder, he takes it.
* Dragon’s Clan member, Safaia King, believes she’s found the man from her people’s legend and her dreams. She has one goal, even if he’s in a rival club—to make Hunter hers and keep him safe so he can fulfill their destiny.
* After Hunter makes a huge mistake, he’s sent to where Safaia lives—an alternate universe called The Den. In this new world, sex, battles, and secrets abound. Hunter must survive The Den to right some wrongs or else he could lose everything he’s ever gained, including his home and Safaia’s love.

~ A PG-13 peek into the story ~

* The flames’ mesmerizing dance, the macabre song created by the crackles and pops, and the smell of death kept Hunter frozen to his spot. He wanted to help, knew he should pick up a bucketful of water or a hose and join the fray, but his immobile legs wouldn’t budge no matter the commands his brain sent them.
* There must be something in the smoke making me high. Either I really can’t move, or I’m losing my fucking marbles.
* He tried again to step forward, but still couldn’t.
* Ah, shit. I’m dreaming. Must be it. At least I hope that’s it.
* As if in answer to his thoughts, the world around him seemed to slow, become more surreal than it already was. The noises minimized into silence, yet people still rushed around him as if he were invisible, their mouths moving without voices emanating from them.
* Straight ahead, Hunter caught glimpses of a woman appearing and disappearing amongst the club members running back and forth in front of her. The ebony-haired beauty didn’t move. She stood there with a smile curling her lips.
* A hot, lusty bolt of desire surged straight to his cock. Yet beneath the instantaneous sensation lay something deeper. Dreaming or not, Hunter couldn’t quite put his finger on what he felt, but words like “connection” and “destiny” wisped across his mind.
* Their gazes locked. The lady winked and disappeared.
* The compound, except for the fire, was as it should be—club house, church, garage, barracks, factory, and some ancillary buildings—but the sky wasn’t gray. The constant hum from all the robotics and other machinery functioning in the city wasn’t present. He’d grown so accustomed to the white noise, the sudden silence almost hurt.
* Hunter shook his head, ran his palm over his face. Nothing seemed right anymore. The sky. The sounds. Even the air he breathed was different—lighter … less polluted.
* No one came up to him to check on him. Nobody questioned why he wasn’t helping.
* They all acted like he didn’t exist.
* Maybe I really don’t exist here. Maybe I’m still back in one of those foster homes and my life in Vegas has only been a fanciful dream.
* Nah. I’ve gotta be dreaming. I gotta…
* “Wake up, Hunter.”
* A weight bore down on Hunter’s shoulder, gripping his muscles like a pneumatic clamp.
* Even in a hazy state of mind, his instincts took over. Years of martial arts training had him shrugging out of the hold and spinning into a neutral stance, ready to defend and attack if need be. No matter what home he’d ended up in, he had always requested lessons. The type of discipline never mattered. The fact that he was learning a skill and had something of his own no one could take away from him had been all that’d counted.
* “Hey, boy.” Screw, an aging man, whose favorite way of dressing his scrawny body happened to be denim overalls, a bandana around his head holding back his stringy gray hair, and nothing else, held up his hands. “You know I’m a lover not a fighter.” He chuckled. “Too old and creaky to scuffle anyhow.”
* Hunter blinked. Gone was the blue sky and fire. The mechanized hum had returned as had the obsidian night. He stared at the head mechanic and lowered his arms. Last thing he’d ever want to do was harm the man he viewed as a father figure. “Screw. What? What’s going on?”
* “You tell me. You’re the one out here in your birthday suit.”
* “Birthday suit?” He glanced down at himself. Sure enough, he stood naked in the middle of the compound. “What the hell?”