Please welcome Ann Gimpel and her book Roman's Gold!
Roman’s Gold
By Ann Gimpel
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
ISBN: 978-1-62210-005-7
Release Date: 6/10/13
50,000 words
The line between hunter and
hunted thins, blurs, and finally disappears.
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Once respected members of
society, shifters are running for their lives. In a futuristic world where
resources are scarce, Kate uses her human form to work as a sex surrogate.
Furious at what looks a lot like genocide for her people, she joins the shifter
underground.
Devon’s been a cop for a long
time. He has shifter blood, but not enough to change into anything; at least
not until the police department insists on a series of infusions to make him
better at tracking shifters so they can be imprisoned—or killed.
Devon’s latest assignment is
Kate. From the moment he sees her, he can’t get her out of his mind. The line
between hunter and hunted thins, blurs, and finally disappears. Kate and Devon
defy the odds. Will their passion save them or doom them forever?
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Kate Roman sauntered down Telegraph Avenue, the sounds of the constant
Berkeley traffic loud in her ears. The city had banned hovercraft when air
quality got so bad people needed masks to venture outside. The air still made
the back of her throat burn, but at least her eyes didn’t tear up.
She pushed her dark glasses up her nose and wrapped a colorful scarf
more tightly around her hair. Someone was following her. She’d caught a whiff
of something … unusual … with her feline senses half a dozen blocks back. Her
perceptions weren’t as sharp in her human form, but they gave her a definite
edge. Who was back there? Try as she might, she couldn’t identify its scent.
She didn’t want to stop and turn around. So long as her pursuer thought himself
invisible, he—or she, or it—wouldn’t do anything rash. She hoped.
Her heart beat a little faster. No cause for alarm. Not yet, anyway.
She worked as a sex surrogate, and there had been hundreds of clients over the
past several years. Her hair was unmistakable with its bright red tone and
warm, golden streaks. Clients sometimes trailed after her. Too shy to approach
directly, yet drawn to her because of the best—sometimes the only—sex they’d
had in their lives, they just liked to be close. Even though they had no idea
she was a shifter—that played into the equation too. Humans were attracted to
her animal energy.
Shy clients were one thing. The other options were scarier. Humans had
made a big push to get rid of shifters. Because killing them outright would
have engendered a great hue and cry from personal rights groups, they’d been
imprisoned in droves. Conditions were deplorable; many of her kin had died.
Others were so ill, they might as well be dead. Apparently the personal rights
groups weren’t into visiting prisons to check on things. Disgust twisted Kate’s
features into an annoyed scowl.
Appalled by what was looking a lot like the beginnings of genocide,
she’d joined the shifter underground, a group masterminding escapes for those
like her. Of course, the escapes were only the first step. Once out, shifters
almost always needed medical care. They had to be hidden until their magic was
strong enough for them to shield themselves. Many opted for dramatic plastic
surgery to obliterate any trace of who they’d been when captured.
Kate blew out a tense breath. She had three post-surgical shifters
concealed in the basement of her home in the Berkeley Hills. A wolf, a mountain
lion—like her—and a bear were sequestered behind a hidden wall panel. She
hadn’t expected them to stay quite so long and her pantry was almost bare. She
glanced at her wrist computer and clicked a few keys. Ration Coupons flashed on
the screen, followed by the numerals one and zero. Shit. If it were only her,
ten coupons wouldn’t buy much more than a day’s worth of food. She needed to
put in an emergency call to the underground once she got to her office and no
one could hear her. They had code words for everything, but still…
Kate tilted her head back. Her nose twitched. Whoever was behind her
was closer. Not much, but a little. Should I turn around? She glanced at the
cross street. Another half block and she’d be at her office. Someone jostled
her shoulder. She pulled back, wary of a trap. Kate strengthened the illusion
which softened her lengthened incisors and muted the sharp angle of her
cheekbones and jaw.
“Sorry,” a man muttered and pushed past her.
She stared after him and reached out with a dribble of shifter magic. Whew!
She exhaled sharply. Just a human. Definitely not who’d been following her.
Garden-variety cops had genetically-altered enhanced abilities. They smelled
different. Trackers, elite police squads targeting shifters, had their own
unique scent. She pressed her tongue against her teeth, thinking. What she
smelled behind her was … different. Did that mean it wasn’t a cop—or a Tracker?
Not necessarily. He could be using one of their tricks to mask his spoor. Her
throat tightened. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry.
Enough excitement for one morning. Kate lengthened her stride, loped
across the street, taking advantage of an amber light, and took the steps to
her office in a renovated Victorian two at a time. She ran her palm over the
keypad. The electronics hummed and the door clicked open. She ducked inside,
shut the door, and reset the lock.
Annoyance tinged with fear made her stomach roil. Against her better
judgment, she turned and peered through a frosted glass side panel next to the
thick, carved oak door. Eyes narrowed, she used her feline vision to take a
good, hard look at who was walking down the sidewalk. After a couple minutes of
nothing, she chided herself for being paranoid.
Kate was about to turn away and get ready for her first client when a
man caught her attention. Boy, did he catch her attention. He was tall, maybe
six-foot four, with broad shoulders and slender hips. He wore form-fitting
jeans, a snug knitted dark blue top, and a brown leather vest. Well-muscled
arms and thighs jumped out at her. Kate’s eyes went to his crotch. Wow. If he
looked like that soft, he’d have a hell of an erection. Waist-length black hair
swirled around him. Dark eyes, set in Native American bone structure, looked
right at her building. It was as if he sensed her looking at him.
What was he? Unfortunately, she couldn’t identify much. Wood and glass
absorbed most of her magic. Kate moved away from the window. Heat poured
through her. Her nipples pebbled into hard points. Whoever was out there was
the most sexually-charged man she’d ever come across. Was he the one who’d been
following her?
She snorted. Part of her hoped he’d been tracking her—she itched to
jump his bones. In spite of being turned-on, she felt edgy. He could be a
member of the elite Tracker hit squads targeting shifters. Her underground
organization had received intel the enemy was using more sophisticated
strategies to trap them. If they start using sex, we’re done for. Her lips
curled into a wry grin. Shifters loved sex. It was a weakness from their animal
sides.
“No, it’s a strength,” the mountain cat which lived inside her
commented snidely.
“Hold on, sweetie. You’ll get your fix soon enough.”
“I don’t want human sex,” her cat complained. “Find a shifter for us.”
“Enough of this. I have to get ready for my first client.”
Her cat grumbled. Kate smiled indulgently. She’d dreamed her bond
animal like all shifters did when they hit puberty. The animal had picked her,
but she’d sealed the deal by accepting it. The cat was a part of her, but its
own entity as well. That included having opinions which sometimes diverged from
hers.
She consulted her wrist computer. Not much time to spare. Kate walked
through her spacious office. Furnished with late nineteenth century antiques to
match the building’s architecture, it was a homey place with overstuffed floral
couches and chairs and golden oak tables. A small computer desk allowed clients
to enter their own personal data—or as much of it as they were comfortable
divulging. Unlike the world’s oldest profession, men actually needed a doctor’s
referral to see her. Kate liked it that way. She’d never had problems with any
of her clients. The doctors screened them for diseases before sending them,
which was another plus, though not exactly necessary. Virtually all the men who
came through her door were virgins.
A lush bedroom with a four-poster bed and an inventive assortment of
toys was behind the front office. Off to one side was a marble inlaid bathroom
with a sunken tub with Jacuzzi jets. Mirrors lined the walls; the gleaming gold
fixtures and green-veined marble glowed invitingly. Water was good for loosening
up nervous clients. Her first task was getting them used to being naked.
She ducked into her private quarters—a small room off the
bedroom—dropped her bag in a corner, and stripped off her street clothes and
shoes. Pants were a no-no in her business. She needed skirts in case a client
got hard and she needed to move fast. Most of the men who visited her had
erectile issues. Either they came too fast, or they couldn’t get erections at
all.
She pulled a teal jersey top out of a drawer and tugged it over her
head. The soft folds of the fabric molded to her body. No bra. Looking at the
curves of her breasts was good for clients. She traced the outline of a nipple
through the silky fabric. It stiffened instantly. A vision of the man in the
street slammed against her. Her nether regions flooded. Kate grinned. She felt
sorry for her first client. She’d probably attack him before he even got his
clothes off.
She stepped into a black skirt with an elastic waist and grabbed a
hairbrush. Red-gold curls cascaded nearly to her waist. A smattering of shiny
lip gloss and she walked into the bathroom to check her appearance. Perfect.
She looked about twenty-five. Good for when she needed to play the innocent in
seduction charades. She blew a kiss at the glass. Not bad for a
three-hundred-year-old shifter. Three hundred six, her inner voice corrected.
Kate laughed. She wasn’t exactly immortal, but she’d live for hundreds more
years before her face betrayed any sign of age.
The front bell chimed. Hector was right on time. Bare feet pattering
over the thick, Oriental carpet in her front office, Kate strode to the door
and peered through the safety viewer. She rolled her eyes. He’d brought her
flowers. She waved her palm over the electronically controlled lock; the latch clicked.
“Hi, gorgeous.” Hector stepped inside and waited for her to lock up
before handing her a bouquet of expensive-looking hothouse blossoms. She laid
them on a side table. They’d keep for an hour out of water.
“Hi there yourself, handsome.” Kate smiled at him. She liked Hector.
At forty-five, he’d decided it was time to find a wife. Problem was, he’d spent
his entire life locked away behind a computer screen and had no idea how to
even say good morning to a woman, let alone ask for a date. All his sexual
experiences had been with his hand until he’d tried to hire a hooker and failed
miserably. He’d come while she was unzipping his pants and hadn’t been able to
get hard again.
He shook light brown hair back from a high brow. His hazel eyes shone
with pleasure. He wasn’t bad looking, but he needed to get outside. His skin
was pasty white and his body soft. She’d suggested he join a gym and walk at
least half an hour out-of-doors every day. She wondered if he’d taken her up on
either suggestion.
His hand snaked out and curved around one of her breasts. She glanced
between his legs, pleased to see the swell of an erection. Good. He wouldn’t
make her work very hard today. Kate cocked her head to one side and pressed her
breast into his hand. “Business first. That will be five hundred credits.”
His eyes widened. “You’re giving me a break today.”
“Not really.” Her hand cupped his hard-on. “Looks like you won’t need
much from me.”
Color stained his fair cheeks. “Funny thing. It got hard when I was on
the bus. Just thinking about you…” His voice trailed off.
“That’s the way it’s supposed to work. Pay up, so we can get those
clothes off you.”
He went to the computer, bent over, brought up his account, and
transferred money into hers. The printer whirred. She grabbed the piece of
paper, tore off one end, signed it, and handed it to him.
He came around behind her. His hands closed over her breasts and he
nibbled her neck. She leaned against him for a moment, then led him to the
bedroom and closed the door. One of the best things about being a surrogate was
she trained her clients to do exactly what she liked, while cautioning them
that part of lovemaking was communication. What she liked might not work for a
different woman.
She turned toward him. His shirt and sports coat lay on a chair and
he’d stepped out of leather loafers. His fingers were busy with the fastenings
of his slacks.
“Pretty good progress,” she said, flashing him a warm smile. “First
time you came here, it took me most of the session to get your shirt off.”
He shrugged. His pants pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of
them and shoved his boxers down his hips. Kate felt her eyes widen. He was more
than ready. Not just hard, but a drop of semen glistened in the center of his
glans. “Do you want to undress me?” she asked.
He closed the distance between them, put his arms around her and
kissed her. She kissed him back, aware of her own arousal. Hector didn’t have
much to do with that. But he’d give her something to think about other than the
wonderfully seductive stranger she’d seen through her window. She pressed her
breasts against him and thrust her hips against his hard-on.
Hector broke their kiss. He slid his fingers under her top and tugged
it gently over her head. His gaze locked on her breasts before he took them in
his hands. He twirled her nipples just the way she’d shown him. He’d been
surprised when she told him women could come just from that.
She curved a hand around his erection. It bucked in her hand. He
hadn’t had problems with premature ejaculation the last few visits, but he
seemed more excited today. “Do you need to be inside me?”
His breath came fast. “Could I? All I’ve thought about is—” His cock
jumped in her hand again. Fluid leaked from it. She rubbed it around the
velvety top with a gentle fingertip.
Kate backed toward the bed. “How do you want me?”
His gaze sought hers. “Could you be on top? I’ve done like you said,
you know, playing with myself and fantasizing.”
“Sure.” She waited for him to lie down. Kate got a condom out of the
night table drawer, opened the wrapper, and rolled it onto him. She straddled
him and lowered herself onto his shaft. He groaned. She took care to keep her
hips still. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Open your eyes. Look at me. Think
about breathing. You can control this.”
The line of his jaw clenched, and then softened. He cupped her pussy
in an outstretched hand. Tentative at first, he rubbed her clit when she pushed
into his hand. Her muscles closed around his cock. He rubbed harder. She laid a
hand over his to show him the rhythm she needed.
“Is it okay if I make you come this way?”
“More than okay.” With her fingers atop his to guide him, he rubbed
harder and faster over her sensitive tissue. She knew she was moving around his
erection, but hoped he had enough to think about besides coming that he’d be
able to control himself. “I’m going to take my hand away. Now you do the same
thing.”
“Like this.”
“Um-hum.” She felt a familiar tightness, tried to hold back so she
could savor things, but it was too late. She came, shoving her pussy against
his hand. A vision of the gorgeous man she’d seen in the street danced behind
her closed lids. Deep in her mind, the cat purred, “Yesssss. Find that one for
us.” Kate shushed it.
Hector had learned well. He kept moving his fingers until her hips
quieted. “Wow. That was amazing,” he crowed. “I got to watch you come. Your
nipples got hard and you’re all rosy.”
“And you didn’t come yourself. Even better.” She laughed. “Is it okay
if I move now?”
“Will I be able to make you come again?” She heard a hint of masculine
pride in the question.
“No question.”
He held out his arms. “I want to feel your breasts against me.”
She lowered her torso until it touched his. “Very good. Asking for
what you want is important. Women aren’t mind readers. Put your hands on my
hips. Move me the way you want to be fucked.”
“What about you?”
“I had a turn. Besides, you can always touch me or lick me.”
“You haven’t taught me about licking.” His voice had a catch in it.
“Well, if we don’t get there today, there’s always next time.”
His hands gripped her hips. She let him control the movement, pleased
it took him several minutes to come. Once his cock was through spasming inside
her, she moved off his body and went to get a warm, wet cloth from the bathroom.
By the time she returned, he had the condom off. She held out her hand. “I’ll
take it. Here.” She handed him the cloth, dropped the condom into a waste can,
and slid into a robe.
A disappointed look washed across his face. “Is our time up?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How many more visits do I have?”
“Not sure. Just a minute, I’ll look.” Kate padded into the outer
office and clicked a few keys on the desktop computer. She was also buying a
little time. Clients frequently got too attached, which was why she never told
them up front how many visits had been authorized. Sometimes, even if they had
several more sessions, she’d hedge, call their MD, and cut them off.
The truth was, Hector didn’t really need her anymore. Seven visits had
cured both his impotence and his problems with premature ejaculation.
“Good thing you asked.” She breezed back into the bedroom, smiling
brightly. “We’ve run through your sessions.” He looked so crestfallen, she went
to the bed, sat on the edge, and took his hands in hers. “Hector. You got what
you needed here. You can make love with anyone now. You don’t need me anymore.”
“But I thought—I mean, I hoped…” Color crept up his chest to his neck
and face.
“Aw, honey. Everyone falls in love with me. It’s natural. I’m the
first woman you had sex with.” She patted his hand. “I guarantee you I won’t be
the last. Try asking that cute brunette you told me about out for coffee.”
“Can I come back if I get into problems?”
“Sure. I’ll square it with your doctor.”
“Really?” He smiled. Hector was decidedly handsome when he did that.
“Really.” She touched a finger to his chin. “You’re quite the hunk
when you smile. Try to remember to do it more often.”
He dressed quickly and she ushered him out the door. “Thanks for the
flowers. And best of luck, not that you’ll need any. You’ll make some woman
very happy.”
She closed the door, locked it, and looked at the time. She needed to
call the underground about groceries, change the bed, and take a shower. It
would be tight, but she was pretty sure she could work everything in before
Todd showed up in half an hour.
Kate glanced at the calendar in her wrist computer. Good. Only the two
clients today. Worries about her three houseguests ate at her. It was better
when she was home. The shifters in her basement were vulnerable by themselves
About the Author
Ann Gimpel is a clinical
psychologist, with a Jungian bent. Avocations include
mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course,
writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing
speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared
in a number of webzines and anthologies. Several paranormal romance novellas
are available in e-format. Three novels, Psyche’s Prophecy, Psyche’s
Search, and Psyche's Promise are small press publications available in
e-format and paperback. Look for two more urban fantasy novels coming this
summer and fall: Fortune’s Scion and Earth’s Requiem.
A husband, grown children,
grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out her family.
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)
1 comment:
Thanks so much for hosting me. It's a pleasure to be here! Devon and Kate are stoked, too!
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