Evanne Lorraine
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Warriors’ Wife



One of few women left on post-pandemic Earth, Tori travels west to help build a better future. On her journey a team of cyborgs capture her, knowing she is the key to change the course of history. A triad of mech warriors destined to be her mates arrives from the future just in time to save her, offering their protection. With no real choice, she accepts and the three men set out to win her heart.

The passion between the four is explosive, and the seductive mechs’ campaign succeeds. She falls in love with each man, surrendering her body, heart and soul. But a new cyborg team lies in wait for a chance to snatch Tori. When that opportunity arrives, she is taken, and her lovers are punished, forbidden contact with the woman they love—their rebellion punishable by death. But love dictates they track her to ensure her safety. Once again, the future invades the present, threatening to execute her triad. Only Tori can save her mates.


“The Humvee is gone?” Tori’s words sounded distant and jagged as if they’d come over a bad connection. The question was stupid anyway. She just couldn’t wrap her head around the enormity of the loss. Pressure pounded in her temples. The steady backbeat drowned out rational thought.

Marcus lowered her to the ground with slow, deliberate moves, taking care not to jar her. “The last team of cyborgs must’ve set a delayed explosive device.”

“Why would they want to blow up my stuff?”

He met her eyes with a familiar, angry scowl. “The explosion removed your only chance for escape.”

“I don’t understand.” She rubbed at her throbbing temples.

“I’ll tell you everything I know, promise. But right now we have to get away from here. The cyborgs have a lock on this position.” Marcus didn’t wait for her to agree. He picked her up and headed down the hill with a ground-eating stride.

There was something about being carried or his intoxicating, spicy aroma or his fierce protectiveness or maybe it was simply the total package that made her go all girly and trusting. But then she’d thought the shy tech guy equally delicious. She flushed at the memory. What in the hell had happened to her Ms. Independent self?

She told herself to stay cool. She didn’t know any of them well enough to trust them farther than she could spit, which wouldn’t be far because her mouth had gone drier than one of Bond’s martinis.

This was crazy, she must be losing it. She’d been taken captive by three evil cyborgs and survived. Maybe this was her body’s way of celebrating the fact she was still breathing—with a full-blown case of outrageous, beautiful, life-affirming lust.

She bit her lip to keep a too-shrill giggle from escaping while Marcus raced them down the hill, holding her safe against his wide chest.
A new thought blew a cool breeze over her heated imaginings. The bothersome question slipped off her lips. “Are there female mechs?”


She sighed with relief. “Good. “ I don’t need that kind of competition.

Marcus settled her on the motorcycle then hit her with one of his intense looks. “Wouldn’t matter if there were a million females, you wouldn’t have any competition. The triad is here for you.”

Wow, just wow. She swallowed a sappy sigh and made cow eyes at him.

He brushed a thumb over her wounded lip. The split must have been shallower than she realized, his light touch didn’t hurt a bit. He pressed a tender kiss on her forehead before he carefully fit and fastened her safety helmet then climbed on in front of her.

More of her doubts vanished under the steady campaign of exquisite care he took with her and another piece of her wary heart melted.


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