Tales From A Darker Star: A Collection of Sci-Fi Erotica Volume II

By A. Octavia

No matter how far into the future, there's always enough heat to melt the coldest hearts. In 'Awakening', there's a dangerous guardian waiting for explorers on a distant world. In 'Glass Houses', an investigative inquiry takes a hot stroll down memory lane. 'Hindsight' is almost always 20/20 for a man who finds out his wife has been busy since their divorce. In the world of corporate high-rollers, one woman takes measures into her own hands in 'Relentless', and in 'Three Nickles' we see that the decisions we make in life can stretch into the next world. These classic scenes are layered with rich characters with passions hot enough to light the night sky...

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. Octavia
• Release date: Oct 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311619075

A. Octavia

From an ancient desk in a sunlit corner of a room, A. Octavia writes about worlds hidden behind a veil of time and cosmic dust. He also writes an Erotic Blog, and hosts an Erotic Podcast available on iTunes and Stitcher."The world is too big and full of everything to close your eyes and do nothing." -A. Octavia.

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Tales From A Darker Star: Volume II

A collection Of Science-Fiction Erotica

by A. Octavia

Tales From A Darker Star: Volume II

A Collection Of Science-Fiction Erotica

by A. Octavia

Copyright 2014 A. Octavia

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Chapter 1: Awakening.

I still remember a time when the fjords were teeming with life. The winds often carried the songs of Midgard across the seas. We danced to them, and we sang along. The world of men was a shining jewel among the branches of Yggdrasil. But that was such a long time ago...

The winds are hollow now, cold. They're filled with the sound of mechanical hearts beating in time to the chattering noise of mortal hives. The world tree withered, and even Nidhogg refused to open his maw. This age of men rose from Ragnarok's ashes and with them came the end of the old ways.

We stayed on as long as we could, but the reach of men grew so strong so very quickly. We did the only thing we could--we ran. Some took to the other realms, some assimilated into the stretching void, and those like me vowed to keep our relics safe from harm. All of us knew we'd never see each other again.

I chose Mimir's well. When the All-Father fell to his grandson in the end of days, I mourned as all of us who survived did, but a small part of me, the smallest part that I never dared speak of, secretly rejoiced. It meant I was free. The hunt was over, and the baying of his hounds, and the thunder from Sleipnir's hooves would never haunt my dreams again.

But he was still the All-Father, and his eye still rested at the bottom of the well. I could never see it through the mirrored surface of the water, but I knew it was there. I could feel it staring up at the heavens as if asking why the worlds would abandon us all.

I've had to move the well three times. Each step a little further away from the crossroads of where men and gods meet. First, I moved away from Yggdrasil's roots to a nameless place within the Earth's heavens. Years later, it became a star with a name no one could pronounce. It was eons before men came to me.

When I moved the well again, it was to a massive comet that tore through the universe in muted silence. I watched men evolve, changing as easily as I could at a whim. They built ships that could breathe fire, and eventually, they were able to catch up.

Now, the well and I rest on the very edge of Niflhiem. The winds howl in barren rage, but I have enough power to keep them at bay. No mortal or god would dare enter this world but to die-- but that didn't stop them all. Every year, the limbs of the world tree creak a little louder at the sheer weight of Midgard's obesity. Men cannot control themselves. That was part of their allure.

Odin never wanted the Huldes chasing after the mortals. He never said why, and we didn't obey him anyway. There were countless men and women we preyed upon. The forests were thick with men in those days. They were naive, pure, and unadulterated. They were wanton and coarse, but eager to please.

It's easy to fall into your memories when they're all you have left. The lines between fiction and reality blur together and turn in on themselves along the edges. That was where my mind was when I heard the sound of voices. How I could have missed the thunder of the retro-rockets or the streak of crimson flames as a ship tore through Niflhiem's night sky is still beyond me.

But I heard the voices first. They were choked with fur and gasping breaths against the cold air. They came closer, following their computerized gods in front of them, a north star in the palm of their hands. Seven of them, hearts beating fast, breath pluming in cold bursts. I thought about killing them. There was no one to argue with me, no one to plead their case--except for the silent eye on the bottom of the well.

My forest extended for miles in all directions. I never bothered to count how many. I knew the perimeter, though. Every centimeter of it out to where it pushed back against the frozen wastes. I knew exactly where they were the moment they crossed into my world. Oh, I could have killed them, but they had a ship waiting for them, one capable of finding me here. If they never returned, another ship would arrive, and then another, and another until I either ran out of room to hide the bodies, or I'd have to move the well a fourth time.

They spoke among themselves in a language I'd never heard, but the tones were the same. The man leading the others had a harsh, unforgiving voice. He was one used to telling others what to do, and being obeyed. I let my mind coil around him like a serpent. He would have to be the first to break. Without him, the others would be lost.

There were two interesting things inside him that I felt stir at my touch. The first was his abstinence. He was a widower of nearly two decades, and he blamed himself for his wife's passing. Mortal vanity at it's finest, always thinking they were the center of power in all the nine realms. The second buried secret he held was his desire for his research assistant. This revelation carved an icy smile across my lips. I seldom think of myself as cruel, but his view of her as more a daughter than a colleague was something even I couldn't resist. Yes, breaking him would be easy.

From there, the others would fall like dominos. The research assistant had a lover in the expedition, too. A hulking man, walking sixth in line.  He had a great respect for both the professor's command, and for his lover. He didn't think for a moment that she was anything but loyal to their bed. When he shattered, he was either going to explode, or implode like a great all-consuming vortex; I could feel it in the air.

There was a cartographer among them. He was tall and lean, but he had a submissive streak he wouldn't ever reveal, even to himself. The medic, a full-figured blonde woman, liked him. She kept making subtle advances to him that he never picked up on. One of the guards, a woman carrying an assault rifle, noticed it, though. She doubled as the cook, and every time the medic found a reason to be alone with the mapmaker, she started counting the bullets in her magazines and any number of ways to poison her food. It wouldn't take much to feed that jealousy until it broiled.

The last man, the one following the woman