Authors: Lolita Lopez
Caught By Menace
Lolita Lopez
Grabbed, Book Two
Menace’s plan to catch a docile woman is shot to hel
when he’s tackled by a dark-haired beauty who wants to
save her friend from being Grabbed. Refusing to leave
the planet’s surface empty-handed, Menace claims the
spitfire with his colar.
Naya clawed her way off the streets of Connor’s Run
and vowed to never let any man control her. She plans to
make Menace so miserable he’l set her free, but the
ruggedly sexy warrior disarms her with his unexpected
patience and kindness.
Against her better judgment, Naya surrenders to
Menace’s masterful hands and mouth. Submitting to her
new husband brings more pleasure and happiness than
she’d ever imagined possible. For the first time in her life,
she wilingly trusts a man to protect her.
But when past misdeeds catch up with her, Naya puts
the depth and strength of that love to the test.
the depth and strength of that love to the test.
Determined to prove he’s worthy of her trust, Menace
wil stop at nothing to save her.
Inside Scoop:
Our heroine learns to love every
decadent delight the hero offers, including BDSM play
and a sizzling M/F/M ménage.
A Romantica®
sci-fi
erotic romance
from Ellora’s
Cave
CAUGHT BY MENACE
Lolita Lopez
Naya kept to the shadows and moved silently through
the cool night. Not even the inky darkness could slow
her feet. She had traveled this path enough times to
memorize every inch of the back aleys and darkened
streets of Connor’s Run. Like most nights, the town’s
power grid had failed, plunging the place into blackness.
Not wanting to garner attention, she used no flashlight
and relied on the palest slivers of moonlight from the
three moons orbiting Calyx to make her way to the
rendezvous point.
She shook off the cold sensation of uncertainty
slithering along the back of her neck. Once her mind was
made up, she’d never been one to hesitate. Tonight was
no different. As a wide-eyed twelve-year-old terrified by
the talk of the government signing one of the Harcos
bride treaties, she’d sworn a promise to her best friend
Jennie. Eleven years later, Naya refused to break that
promise, even if it meant leaving behind the only life she’d
ever known.
And so she ran. She ran through the back streets of
And so she ran. She ran through the back streets of
Connor’s Run, skirting the squalid tenements and
ignoring the stench of refuse from the poorly maintained
water management systems. She kept close to the
buildings, the brittle bricks and stones scraping against
her thin jacket and leaving chalky marks on the worn,
faded fabric. In a few hours, the lottery results would be
official and it would be too late to save Jennie. She had
to move fast if her plan had any chance of succeeding.
As she neared the meeting point, a ramshackle
warehouse that had been long abandoned and scheduled
for razing, Naya eased up on her pace. Her hand drifted
to the weapon secured at her hip. Her father had always
joked that this gun would be pried from his cold, dead
hands—and she’d done just that. She’d been nine years
old the night she’d inherited her first weapon. Looking
back, it was a sad omen of the dangerous, often violent
life she would be forced to lead, but to keep food in her
bely and a roof over her head, there had been no other
choice.
Creeping through the darkness, Naya listened
carefuly. She held her breath and hugged the nearest
wal. She scanned the warehouse for any signs of life and
spotted just one light. The eerie red glow of a light stick
spotted just one light. The eerie red glow of a light stick
gave the warehouse a sinister appearance.
Recognizing Dankirk’s signal, she pursed her lips and
let loose a high-pitched, warbling whistle. The sound
mimicking a night bird was quickly answered with a
lower-pitched whistle in three short bursts. Assured the
coast was clear, Naya hustled to the dilapidated building
and darted between two busted-out boards. Once inside
the warehouse, she pushed back the hood covering her
face and kept her fingertips hovering just above her
weapon. After being ambushed and betrayed more than
once, she never let her guard down anymore.
“Naya.” Dankirk’s familiar voice cut through the
darkness. “Over here.”
She crossed the brick floor and came face-to-face
with the Red Feather fixer. As a member of the
underground group of political dissidents, Dankirk
handled the logistics and “fixed” al the issues that arose
during their risky missions. Like her, he had some serious
skil in smuggling supplies and technologies that were
forbidden in their society.
“You’re late.” He tucked away the eerie red chem-
light and replaced it with one in bright-yelow that more
light and replaced it with one in bright-yelow that more
clearly iluminated his face.
“The rumors of the Grab have already hit the streets.
People are talking about rioting. I couldn’t take my usual
route.”
Dankirk laughed, the sound so bitter and resigned.
“Yeah, because the food riots in The City last month did
so much good, right? Hel, people always talk about
rioting over the Grabs but they do nothing. They’l serve
up their daughters like lambs to the slaughter rather than
risk the wrath of The City’s secret police or the sky
warriors.”
Humming in agreement, Naya glanced around the
warehouse. “Where’s the alderman?”
“He’s coming. Probably delayed the same way you
were.” Dankirk slipped the glowing stick into the holder
attached to a lanyard dangling from his neck. His
iluminated face showed his disbelief. “Are you sure
about this, Naya?”
“Not realy,” Naya admitted, “but I can’t let those sky
monsters take Jennie.”
He snorted with amusement. “Monsters? Shit, Naya,
look no further than Harper’s Wel if you want to see real
monsters. Naw,” he said, his low, country drawl dragging
monsters. Naw,” he said, his low, country drawl dragging
out the word, “those Harcos men aren’t that bad. They
keep us safe here on Calyx. Besides, they turn a blind
eye to us sneaking folks off this helhole of a planet to the
colonies. They haven’t stopped a single smuggling ship or
medicine or technology shipment from landing here in
over a year. They’re doing a good thing for us.”
She couldn’t argue with him there. The Harcos were
the dominant race in this solar system. Like her Earth
ancestors, the Harcos were human but much larger and
more terrifying. But she’d seen enough of them in the
Free Market section of Connor’s Run to know she
didn’t want one of them catching her in the Grab, the
archaic chase organized every quarter to provide brides
to these sky warriors.
Though they had women of their own on their home
planet of Harcos Prime, they were tens of thousands of
light years away. In exchange for policing the solar
system, the sky warriors took payment in natural
resources like minerals and food—and in women.
Unmarried women aged eighteen to thirty were eligible
for the Grab. The officials from The City, the government
center of Calyx, picked a town or vilage to host the
Grab every quarter and calculated the quota required
based on the number of sky warriors approved for the
list by their superiors. This time it was nineteen young
women who would be caled. The mayor of Connor’s
Run had chosen them by lottery that afternoon. By
sunrise, the list would be posted throughout the town.
But unlike the girls trying desperately to get their
names off the list, Naya was wiling to do everything in
her power to get her name
on
that list.
“You know the odds of you puling off this plan are
like, zero, right?”
Naya glanced at Dankirk. “That’s what we say every
time we smuggle a family off Calyx to Jesco colony or
Safe Harbor, Danny. We stil try.”
He slipped his hand into the front pocket of his jacket
and produced the passports and travel permits she’d
requested. “They’re not as good as the old ones, but the
Artist is long gone.”
Naya tugged his chem-light closer so she could see
better and quickly thumbed through the forged traveling
papers. Here on Calyx everything was low-tech. Al
official correspondence was paper and ink. Only in the
colonies did the Earth descendants embrace superior and
colonies did the Earth descendants embrace superior and
more efficient technologies. When she and Jennie
reached Safe Harbor in a few days, they’d meet with
Dankirk’s contacts and upgrade their papers to the
implanted tags favored there.
“These are good. Good enough to get us through
customs on the colonies,” she added and stuffed them
into the inner pocket of her jacket. “What happened to
the Artist?”
Dankirk pointed up. “They Grabbed her.”
Naya grimaced. “That’s terrible.”
“Not from what I’ve heard,” he replied. “Besides, she
came from Harper’s Wel. I don’t know about you, but
I’d rather take my chances on a sky ship than live in that
backwards swamp. Maybe it’s not so bad up there on
their alien ships.”
“How would you know? There’s a communication
blackout once you’re taken. You never get to see or talk
to your family or friends again.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I’ve heard some girls have
contact with their families. And the Artist has a sister that
does some work for the Red Feather now. She was one
of the last ones we successfuly smuggled out of Harper’s
Wel. I guess she figures she owes us a debt so she helps
Wel. I guess she figures she owes us a debt so she helps
us place single or widowed mothers and their children in
safe houses on Jesco colony and Safe Harbor.”
“She does owe a debt. Every one of us that takes a
favor from the Red Feather owes a favor in return.”
“There you go with your honor code again.” Dankirk
shoved two pieces of chewing gum into his mouth and
winced as he bit down. “Anyway, the sister in the
colonies told me that the Artist is happy with her new
husband on the
Valiant
and living the kind of life we can
only dream about here.”
Naya’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Sounds like
some kind of bulshit story to hide what’s realy going on