Evanne Lorraine
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Joon’s Temptation





Joon is banished from New Eden for practicing witchcraft. Two fierce warriors are assigned to ensure she returns to Earth. Before they make the first jump to sub-space they’re captured by Baldoreans and taken to enormous space station, where the enemy is gearing up for a devastating surprise attack.

The trio’s first objective is to escape and warn their home planet. The only hope for accomplishing this impossible task is to combine their talents. As they work together the three-way attraction strengthens. Courage, sacrifice, and a new mating bond won’t erase the charges against Joon. Their love is still forbidden.


The entry display showed the three lower floors of public docking were full by the time they arrived. Session started in seven minutes. Mythos calculated quickly. “If we park first, we risk missing Roth. Circle the building. I’ll deliver the report and wait for you out front.”

“Roger that.” Hel released the passenger hatch.

Mythos unbuckled, rose to leave, and then nailed his pal with hard look. “I’m still piloting on the return trip.”

“Absolutely.” Hel snapped off a salute.

Another check of his chron had Mythos jogging through the public dock. The first level had a seldom used maintenance lift—no waiting line. He headed for it, quartering the area from long habit.

A cluster of casually dressed young men in a dimly lit corner didn’t concern him until he caught a flash of wildly kicking pale legs.

The gyrations were so frantic it took him a couple of seconds to determine only a single pair of limbs thrashed. And they were impossibly feminine. His normally slow anger surged violently at the thought of these bullies attacking an effeminate boy. Horrific images from his own youth threatened to freeze Mythos. He shook off the old terrors. He wasn’t a helpless, too pretty lad now. No way in the seven hells were the brats getting away with that on my watch.

He ran forward, grasped the tallest brat by his braid, and flung him against the dock wall.

The youth hit with a thud and rolled under the vessel. The tethered silver skimmer maintained a constant cushion of air beneath its sleek hull. The vicious bully deserved a torture chamber as brutal as he was, but the docking slot would do for now.

He turned his attention to the remaining bullies. A sallow blond, a stocky brunette, and a freckled redhead gaped at him like he’d sprouted a second head. They backed away from the slender lad, who’d drawn into a tight ball. As if acting on some unseen signal, the cowards tried to stuff their limp dicks out of sight.

The stocky youth whined, “We didn’t do anything. It was Chox’s idea.”

“That’s right.” The freckled boy backed up his friend with sniffle.

The blond sniveled, “I wanted to leave. Chox wouldn’t let me.”

“Zip it brats.” Mythos aimed his best warrior glower at the young thugs before glancing at the frightened child they’d assaulted. “Did any of these sorry dung sacks hurt you?”

A choked noise squeaked from the victim.

They’d bound and gagged him. The realization hit him hard, triggering memories of the years he’s spent aboard a slaver. He took slow, deep breaths until the red mist of rage faded and his heart rate slowed to almost normal.

“Scram before I send the lot of you to join your pal,” he snarled.

The boys streaked past him, sprinting for the exit.

Mythos scowled at their puny backs. As much as they deserved a good pummeling, he let them go, unwilling to abandon the traumatized lad. Afraid of what he’d find, he forced himself to examine the shivering youth.

Huge black eyes peered back at him widened in absolute terror. A nasty bruise had begun to discolor one ear. Long silky hair, dark as deep space, lay tangled around a heart-shaped face. A filthy wad of cloth stretched his tender mouth.

“Ignorant bastards.”Mythos tried hard to appear non-threatening while removing the offensive gag. He dropped the wrinkled fabric and reached to undo the belt binding the child’s wrists.

The beautiful boy cringed, ducking his head as if to ward off a blow.

Mythos knew he was larger and taller than New Eden warriors, but he’d been a puny youth and easily subdued. How it felt to be at the mercy of those stronger and more powerful still burned in his gut. Mortified to be considered a threat, he spread his arms, showing his empty palms.

“I will not hurt you. I would never harm an innocent. I’m going to release you.” He kept his voice as soothing as possible and tried to look harmless, judging by the boy’s trembling—a lost cause.

A quick twist of his slender torso waist gave Mythos access to the belt securing thin arms. “Thank you.”

The pleasing alto shook slightly, making Mythos all the more self-conscious. He concentrated on gently unwinding the syn-leather strap biting into the young man’s pale, smooth skin. “I’m almost done.”After he’d freed him, he met the frightened child’s eyes again and pulled out his comm unit. “Is there someone you want me to call?”

He shook his head no, turning away with a faint blush of shame, making no move to rise. “I can pilot myself.”

Did those pricks violate him? I’ll hunt them down and cut off their miserable little balls with a dull knife. Mythos fought a fresh surge of rage. The last thing he wanted to do was terrify this child. “You should get checked out at a medi-clinic. Whatever happened wasn’t your fault. You need medical attention, if only for your own peace of mind.”

He sure as fuck wished someone had helped him when he’d been trapped aboard the Baldorean slaver. The scrawny child forced to satisfy the depraved appetites of his enemies still huddled inside, making him even more determined to get this youth any help he needed.

The kid didn’t say a word, clutching his thin arms around himself for warmth or in effort to protect his modesty. The cursed bullies had stripped his clothing, leaving him nothing but a sheer undershirt and a pair of dainty boots.

To Mythos’s horror his cock thickened and rose. He’d never experienced a spontaneous erection while conscious. The sticky release that sometimes happened during his sleep cycle left him nauseated. His inappropriate response to this battered boy made him want to retch with self-loathing.

He grimly rearranged himself to trap the monstrous arousal beneath his waistband and ruthlessly tightened the side straps to keep it confined. His balls ached for release and his gut lurched. He ignored his traitorous body, staring at his useless comm. The chron function showed three minutes until the council session began. Completing the mission was going to be close. His fingers selected Hel’s number.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been delayed.” Mythos scanned the walls for a level designation. “I’m on level C. You need to deliver the recording to Roth.”

“On my way.”

Thank the Gods, Hel hadn’t asked any questions. Mythos pocketed the unit and spied a pile of dark cloth on the skimmer’s seat. He snagged a piece of material—a fair length of summer weight syn-wool. A shake showed it had once been an expensive cloak ruined by jagged tears across both shoulders. Still the scraps would give the lad some coverage. He moved toward the hunched figure silently. Halfway there, he decided to warn the boy of his approach. He slowed his steps. “I’m Mythos. What’s your name?”

The child’s head lifted. Dark eyes fringed by ridiculously long eyelashes widened in alarm while watching him with a wariness that tugged at his heart. “Why do you want to know?”

“It’s not important.” He held out the damaged cloak and tried again to soften his gruff speech. “They ruined your clothes. Lucky you’re small. The scrap should still cover most of you.”

“You’re very kind.” The child reached one slender arm to accept the rag, revealing a crescent view of a shockingly full breast.

Gods save me. She’s woman. Embarrassed, Mythos dropped his focus to the floor, studying the unremarkable dock as his own reaction and several incomprehensible details slid into place.

Women were rare on New Eden. He’d never seen one except heavily cloaked and surrounded by guards. The lack of female company didn’t bother him. Like all aliens, he was excluded from the mating lottery. His time aboard the Baldorean slaver had eliminated any pleasure from sex. He reserved his passion for revenge.

Now this one small, brave woman called to him. Even injured she moved with heart-breaking grace. She had the face of a fierce angel, her slender form embodied ethereal beauty, and her voice was a siren’s song. Impossible longings stirred deep in his chest.

He rubbed at the ache, shelving his strange response to examine at some time, preferably when she wasn’t exposed and vulnerable. Furious without the incomprehensible emotions, Mythos glared at her. “Where the fu—.” He caught glints of fear in Joon’s glazed eyes and rephrased his question, “Where in the seven hells are your guards, woman?”

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