Satin Spar

By Kim Knox

A tail has its advantages. Especially a prehensile one.

With her marbled skin and stunted tail, Scar stands out.  And there's something else, something she holds secret. Her Caraniae DNA has a strange effect on the male of any species. She can't risk her wayward pheromones bonding her to one man. To the wrong man. Forever.

That's the danger of her boss's new bodyguard, the mysterious and oh-so-pure-blood human, Antony Tyler.

And he's working her tail ragged…

A call from home draws them together, draws them into something wildly sexual. Something so wrong as to be suicidal—if Scar's father discovers she's bonded with anyone other than the husband he's forcing her to marry…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kim Knox
• Release date: Jul 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386495031

Book preview

1

Stalking him wasn’t ethical. She knew that. But Scar had long ago given up thinking ethical thoughts about Antony Tyler.

She’d stopped the minute her employer’s new bodyguard had introduced himself, wrapping his strong fingers around hers, the hint of a smile lifting his perfectly lush mouth. From that moment, she’d become a woman on a mission.

She had to see him naked.

Scar sucked in a breath, ignoring the flare of heat low in her belly. Damn it. Everything about the man whipped her body into rebellion. And that wasn’t a good idea when she was stalking him. Her target paused, the soft light from the ship’s gangway splashing over his shoulders. Scar shrank back against the wall, her palms pressed against the warm metal, and took slow, controlled breaths.

From the hard, suspicious looks he’d been giving her over the past few days, he had to know she’d taken to following him. His dislike of her was understandable. She was too alien for most people, with her stained skin and, well, her short, stubby tail. That freaked most of the pure-human population, too used to seeing her alien features as the enemy.

Tyler’s dark head tilted to the side, no doubt listening for her. Her gut cramped and she tried to feel guilt for her obsession. But she couldn’t as her gaze wandered down his lean body, over the well-cut suit their employer had bought him and she tried not to imagine him stripped naked. She failed. Her all-too-vivid imagination conjured up lithe muscles, allied with strength and agility. Rochester said Tyler used to be in the Federal Army Corps. She almost groaned at the thought that she’d find battle scars—the mark of a warrior—branding

his

skin

.

Her fingers curled into tight fists.

She cursed her Caraniae half, her father’s contribution burning a wildness through her that she often couldn’t contain. Something in Tyler called to that wildness even though he was a pure-blood human. She knew he was pure. He’d been in the Corps. Any hint of non-human DNA and he’d be gone, drummed out and disgraced. She’d performed the test anyway, with sloughed skin and a hair tag. Tyler was thoroughly, stinkingly human.

She ran a hand through the wild tangle of her hair, her fingers fisting. She’d never burned like this for a human, her skin hardly her own, her thoughts consumed. Shit, she’d never had such an overwhelming rush of lust for anyone before.

No, where Tyler was concerned, nothing made sense.

He smoothed his hand over his dark hair and, in the silence of the gangway, she heard him expel a heavy breath. Rolling his shoulders, he straightened and continued his slow, easy stride down the dim corridor.

He probably sensed her. Yes, trailing him wasn’t the sanest idea she’d ever had. But she couldn’t help it. For a moment, Scar closed her eyes, denying herself the image of him. Tyler had wormed under her skin like no other man and she couldn’t explain it. The soft hiss and then the groan of an opening door forced her to focus. He was gone, the corridor empty, but the soft red blip of the chamber in use signal stretching across the wall ahead of her spiked her pulse.

Finally, finally, he’d decided to use the exercise chamber. She needed to see if the muscled sleekness searing through her imagination hid beneath his new conservative suits. Her Caraniae half would be disgusted if he proved to be a weakling, a man unable to defend himself without high-tech weaponry. She half-hoped for that. Then her obsession would fade and she could settle happily back into her old life of being Rochester’s pilot.

Scar snorted and pushed herself away from the wall. "Yes, and then I can stop being the crazy woman on

the

ship

."

Her hand hovered over the doorplate, her palm itching as she waited. She wanted to give him time to set up, to warm up to the fight. She didn’t want him to be aware

of

her

.

She flexed her fingers. Scar knew what she would find on the other side of the heavy, black door, and it would be almost as good as seeing him naked—for her Caraniae half anyway. Tyler would be armoured up in sentient-wear, a human brain at the centre of so much clunking metal, simply content to blast other mechanoid beasts. A smile pulled at her mouth and she could almost taste her disdain, and with it, relief. Lusting after Tyler was such a

bad

idea

.

That knowledge didn’t stop her from pressing the doorplate and a warm flush spread over her skin. The door groaned and slid back into the bulkhead. Beyond was darkness.

All right, not what she was expecting.

She slipped into the chamber, silent and quick, keeping to the familiar smooth walls, her spine and palms guiding her. There was no hint of metal and grease in the air. It had her heart thudding and need fired through her flesh. The tip of her tail twitched. Shit.

Bad

sign

.

A single light flashed, shining stark, white light into the centre of a sand-thick arena. So, Tyler had brought his own training simulations…and she had to admit she was curious. Something moved in the shadows lying thick beyond the sharp beam of light. She could sense it, smell it. Scar almost growled at the sweet scent of adrenaline, but she clamped her hand to her mouth and waited, hidden by the darkness that also obscured Tyler’s opponent.

With a battle-roar, a Zacetian leapt into the bright light. A monstrous creature with a tough, jagged exoskeleton and rows of razor-sharp teeth, it dripped saliva from its gaping mouth. The faint hiss of acid burning as the liquid hit the bleached sand filled the sudden silence.

Her fingers dug tight into her jaw. What the hell? Fire tore through her veins and her Caraniae genes screamed for her to kill her ancient blood-enemy—but then Tyler stepped into the shot of light.

Scar stared. Stared and her blood surged for another reason.

He stood naked. Light slid over smooth, tight muscles oiled with sweat. The same light caught on the gleaming sai he held in each corded fist. Fury burned in his pale eyes and he was…grinning.

Scar wanted to kill the Zacetian. Kill it so that she could fuck Tyler in the heat of its dying blood.

The thought shocked her and she shrank back against the wall of the chamber. Why couldn’t he train using a simple mechanoid target program? Why…

why

this

?

He circled the Zacetian and his fluid grace, the beauty of his lithe body forced her short, blunt tail to curling, curl in a slow and delicious twist between her legs. Scar’s flesh ached and her faithful prehensile tail pressed hard through the fabric of her bulky

flight

suit

.

Light washed over old, silvered scars that laced Tyler’s back all the way down to his tailbone. The clustered patterns looked oddly…familiar. And it wasn’t fair. Scarring? He did have the signs of a warrior. Scar bit her knuckles, holding back a soft groan. The scent of her arousal drifted through the filtered air, but she didn’t care. Not then. She squeezed her thighs, shifting her blunt tail so that it ground against her clitoris.

Liquid heat surged up her body and Scar arched her spine against the