Sneak Peek at Her Alien Cyborgs

Cover of Her Alien Cyborgs

Chapter One

Hezza leaned back in her chair and let her eyes close most of the way.

To really sell the idea that she was relaxed and indifferent to what was happening, she made a conscious effort to slouch down in her chair as far as the restraints allowed.

The pair of overzealous dock security dipsticks had cuffed her hands and feet to the chair. Not only that, but they’d placed her in a room with bare plasteel walls, a floor liberally covered in mysterious stains, and three shabby, dented metal furnishings. One was the chair she sat on. The other two were a table with a matching chair on the far side. As far as she could tell, all of it was bolted to the deck to prevent the inhabitants from what? Throwing it at the walls? Using the chair as a weapon? Probably both.

This was the kind of place where you housed a dangerous fugitive, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in a supernova she fit that description. It was strangely flattering but hardly an accurate assessment. She was a smuggler, not a killer. The only things she was capable of murdering were fried foods and ice cream.

The thought made her smile, which she had no doubt the cameras would catch and display to whoever was watching her. Someone would be watching. They always did. Anything she said or did now would be tossed back in her face once the questions started. She knew how the game was played. This was the waiting period, when she was left on her own to marinate in her fear. No one would show up until she was tenderized and compliant. At least, that’s what they taught the rent-a-cops in places like this.

Carnax was like every other back-system station she’d visited. They barely broke even on refueling contracts and providing replacement parts to any ship unlucky enough to break down this far from civilized space.

She wasn’t here for fuel or repairs, though. She’d been here for a job. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out cargo pickup—easy work, no fuss, no muss, and no questions asked.

Looking back now, she probably should have asked some fraxxing questions, starting with who had made the request in the first place. When she got out of here, she’d have a long, colorful chat with Sasha. Either he was getting sloppy, or he’d been paid to set her up. Either way, she’d make sure his reputation as a broker tanked after this.

If she got out of whatever-the-void trouble this turned out to be. For the moment, all she knew was what security had told her. She was being detained for acts in violation of the Unified Galactic Agreement. Which was normally corporate speak for, “We’ll let you know what the charges are once we’ve determined how many credits worth of fines you can pay.”

This time, though, things felt different. Like maybe she was in serious trouble.

Hezza had to remind herself to stay relaxed as she pondered what this could be about. She’d always preferred to bend laws instead of breaking them completely. Sure, her current cargo included a few items she hoped port-sec didn’t inspect too closely. The embryos in the cargo pods were marked as domestic chickens destined for a colony world. However, odds were good they were something far more exotic, expensive, and only available on the black market.

Moving illegal cargo didn’t bother her, so long as it didn’t break one of her rules. She didn’t transport slaves, drugs, or weapons. Every broker she used knew this. Of course, most of the brokers she knew were already retired and enjoying a life of leisure, likely funded through years of skimming profits and pocketing bribes.

Now that she thought about it, most of her friends were retired too—some by choice yet others because they’d be incarcerated for the rest of their lives. As far as she was concerned, there wasn’t much difference. Both meant staying in one place and doing the same thing day after day. No thank you.

The problem was, she couldn’t keep flying cargo forever. She wasn’t slow, but the Desperate Gambit couldn’t keep up with the newest ships out there. Both she and her ship were losing business to younger, hungrier pilots.

She slumped deeper into her chair. Getting old sucked.

Three minutes later, Hezza told herself to quit wallowing. She had more immediate problems to deal with. She went over the list of probable reasons she was in custody. The most likely cause was also the easiest to understand. No good deed went unpunished.

River was a decent being who’d had more than her share of suffering. The cyborg had come to her with money in hand and a contingency plan in case things went sideways.

Turned out, things hadn’t just gone sideways. They’d gone full nova. River’s contingency plan had kicked in, and Hezza made sure the cyborg made it to her chosen destination. Had she broken a few laws to do it? Yes. Would she do it again? Abso-fraxxing-lutely.

That didn’t mean she had no regrets. Things had gotten messy. Edge, the grumpy, self-appointed leader of the cyborgs, had demanded Hezza reveal where River had gone. Then the damned fool had gone after her. One cyborg leaving the colony was a problem. Two? That set off all kinds of panic. Various factions had learned of her involvement, and she’d had to lay low.

Apparently, she hadn’t laid low enough. A message from River had caught up with her a few days ago. The good news was that she and Edge were fine and had handled the asshole hunting River. The bad news? The fallout from their actions was still ongoing. Nova Force was still looking for Hezza, and it would be best if she stayed out of sight for the time being.

If she’d been smart, she would have taken the warning more seriously. She should have gone dark and drifted somewhere in the big black. Instead, she’d gotten cocky and assumed no one could find her.

Hezza uttered a sigh. Given her current situation, it was apparent someone had found her. That left her with two questions. Who had set this trap, and what did they want?

Odds were good she wasn’t going to like the answers.

She had no way to check the time, but it had to have been more than an hour since someone had made an appearance.

She’d been listening for footsteps outside the door to her cell or at least a click as they let themselves in. Instead, she heard a low, electronic hum followed by a soft chuckle.

“That does not look comfortable,” a familiar voice drawled.

Hezza’s eyes snapped open, and she straightened in her chair. “Phylomenia Harrington, what the fraxx are you doing on my wall?”

The silver-haired woman on the monitor laughed. “Your wall? Did you take over the port security office already?”

“I could have, but they gave me some pretty bangles, so I’ve decided to behave.” She raised both wrists as far as the cuffs would allow, to show off the restraints.

Qarf. They weren’t supposed to do that.” Phylomenia turned to glare at someone out of view. “Did you tell them to restrain her?”

“I told them she was a potential flight risk,” a deep male voice replied.

“And you wonder why people distrust those in authority. This is why, Scott Archer. You and I are going to talk about this.”

Archer. Hezza felt like she should recognize the name, but nothing popped into her head. Phylomenia had left the life a few years back. Whoever this guy was, she must have met him after she went straight.

“So all of this is your fault,” Hezza stated. It had to be true, but it made no sense. Phylomenia was not exactly a friend, but they’d been in the same orbit most of the time. She was someone whose word you could trust, and they’d had a few laughs and drinks over the years.

Phylomenia gave her a rueful smile. “All of it? No. You got yourself into this mess, Hez. I’m here to offer you a way out.”

“From what? No one here will tell me what I’m charged with.”

“That’s because they weren’t given the details. And you’re not under arrest. You’re being detained for questioning.” Phylomenia arched a brow. “And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. You helped not one but two dangerous cyborgs escape from Haven colony.”

That made her laugh. “They’re no more dangerous than anyone else you and I have done business with. Hell, they’re a lot better than some I could name.”

Phylomenia’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t just help them out for money? You actually like these cyborgs?”

Hezza raised her head and stiffened her shoulders in response to Phylomenia’s tone. What did the woman have against cyborgs?

 “They’re decent beings who got a raw deal from the day they climbed out of their maturation vats. So yeah, I like them.”

“Enough to help one get off the planet she was legally required to stay on, and to hell with the consequences?” Phylomenia asked.

“Keeping them on Liberty was a bullshit call that should never have happened. As for what I did? It wasn’t about the money. River needed help, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in a supernova that anyone from the corporations or the military was going to step up. It was about doing the right thing.”

She leaned forward as far as her restraints would allow. “Was a time you’d have done the same thing. What changed?” It wasn’t the question she should have asked, but it was out of her mouth before she could reconsider.

Instead of the rebuke she expected, Phylomenia’s expression softened, and she chuckled again. “Sorry, Hez. I needed to be sure you were on the right side of this mess. I didn’t change, but you could have, and that would mean you’re not the one we need right now.”

“I heard a lot of words, and none of them told me a damned thing. What in the void is going on, Phyl?”

The woman on the screen gestured with both hands, and two men joined her. They were older but still fit with neatly trimmed gray hair and a physical presence that screamed of military training.

“These are my husbands, Scott Archer and Garrett Michaels. Archer negotiated the original deal with the Vardarians for Liberty.”

“They got the planet for colonization, but they had to take the cyborgs the rest of the galaxy was too scared to deal with.” Hezza knew the story. “Which means he’s the bakaffa who made it so none of the cyborgs could ever leave.”

She intentionally used the Vardarian insult to remind the others of her ties to the colony. Her daughter and her mates all lived in Haven.

“It was necessary at the time,” one of the men said. She assumed he was Archer.

“And it was never intended to last forever. You know what corporations are like, Hez. Everything is a negotiation. They wanted to try for more before agreeing to anything else.”

“How much longer will they be stuck?” Hezza asked.

Archer answered, “That’s being discussed right now. I can’t give you an answer because I’m retired and out of the loop. But it won’t be long. Too much has happened.”

Well, that was good news. It didn’t explain what they wanted with her, though. “I’m glad to hear it. Now what does this have to do with me?”

Phylomenia’s expression turned stormy. “There’s another research base. The Interstellar Armed Forces are sending a small fleet to investigate. Scott called in some favors and got us added as consultants. It’s not that we don’t trust them to make the right call…”

Hezza understood immediately. “They’re military, which means they’re going to make decisions based on their training.”

The other man grunted in agreement. “To a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”

Scott Archer shot the man a dirty look. “I’m not a hammer, thank you very much.”

“But sometimes you’re a tool.”

Phylomenia sighed. “Please ignore them. Their idea of flirting leaves a lot to be desired.”

Hezza grinned. “It’s kind of cute. I still need to know why we’re having this conversation, though. And I’d really like to get out of this chair.”

“Here’s the deal, Hez. We’re going on this mission, but we can’t interfere too much. We’re just advisors. We need someone who can do something if things go nova.”

“You want me along as your backup plan. I’m interested, but I still don’t understand how you’re going to convince the IAF to let me tag along.”

“That’s easy. This is likely to be another cyborg research and development station. The cyborgs of Haven have requested representation on this mission. Since none of them are allowed to leave the planet yet, they’ve designated someone to speak for them.”

“Me?” Hezza nearly choked on the word.

“You,” Phylomenia confirmed with only a hint of a smile. “The job’s yours if you want it.”

She couldn’t turn down the offer or the honor it represented. Still, she did have a reputation to live up to. “I’m interested,” she said, trying to sound casual. “But first I need to know. What does this gig pay?”

Releasing October 3rd!

Get your copy: https://susanhayes.ca/book/her-alien-cyborgs/

It’s Release day for Marked For Vengeance!

She thought she was too old for adventure… until it blew up her ship.

Protecting her client while they cruised around the galaxy was easy work—at least until all hell broke loose. Now Loris is stuck on a hostile planet with poisonous flora, dangerous fauna, and a cocky-as-hell alien with big horns, broad shoulders, and an ego the size of a planet.

She needs to do her job. He’s decided she needs him. The longer they’re together, the more she wonders if he might be right…or if she’s losing her mind as well as her heart.

**Buckle up. This sci-fi romance contains an alien with fur, fangs, horns, and a very possessive attitude when it comes to the woman he’s claimed for his own.

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Release Day for Her Alien Healers

cover of Her Alien Healers. Winged man

She’s ready to move on to the next chapter of her life — She just never expected it could be a love story.

Jody Clark has been many things over the years: a doctor, a wife, and a divorced single mother. Now, there’s just one more thing she needs to do – for once in her life, she’s going to put herself first.

An unexpected invitation to Haven colony comes at the perfect moment. A new home and new challenges are just what she needs to kick-start her time of self-discovery. At least, that’s what she thought…

Haven isn’t as peaceful as its name implies. There are hidden threats, secret societies, and most dangerous of all, a pair of sexy alien silver foxes that are as alluring as they are off-limits.

Two alien healers who cannot mend their broken hearts are about to meet the cure…  

Tariq and Sulat are Vardarian anrik, blood-bound brothers destined to share their lives, a family, and a mate. When a tragic accident claimed the life of their mahaya, grief shattered their lives and ended their hopes for the future.

Joining the exodus to Haven seems like the best way to move forward and rebuild what remains of their family. Their new home is indeed a haven, but one under threat from outside forces and the pressures of traditions best left in the past.

Three healers willing to risk their lives to protect their patients… but do they have the courage to risk their hearts?

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Release day for Marked For Menace!

She survived impact… But her plans burned up on re-entry. 

Spending her inheritance on a luxury cruise is the most reckless thing Hope has ever done, and she’s loving every second of it… right up to the explosion.

Now she’s stuck on a strange planet filled with countless dangers and just one chance to survive. The problem? He’s huge, scarred, and the scariest thing on this planet. He’s also the sexiest male she’s ever seen. His protection comes at a price, though. Her.

The life she envisioned is gone forever, but she might be on the brink of finding something better… if she can let go of what she wants to embrace what she needs.

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Sneak Peek at Marked For Menace

Chapter One

Days like this were a struggle. Not because Menace hated being with his clanmates. They were his brothers, his only family. It had always been them versus the universe, and he’d happily lay down his life to save any of them.

His life would be easier if he did hate them, or at least was indifferent to them. If he didn’t care, he could leave this place and go live somewhere else. It was a big planet. He’d find somewhere quiet and far enough away he’d never be tempted to see his brothers again.

They were his family, but some dark, primal part of him didn’t care about that. Every time he spent too long with the others, his dark side would rouse and pace the confines of the mental cell he’d sealed it inside.

One day, it would break free. On that day, he feared what would happen. Not to him, but to the only family he had—the fa’rel.

The problem was that he didn’t hate them, which was why he was with two of his brothers, helping Mayhem extend the roof of his home. Weaving grass and slender branches into the existing roof wasn’t physically demanding work, but what it lacked in backbreaking labor it made up for with mind-numbing tedium.

Still, it needed to be done, and it went faster when they worked together. This week, he and Strife were helping Mayhem. Next week, the three of them would be at Strife’s home, and the week after that, they’d all be coming to help him prepare his place for the rainy season.

They’d struggled their first year on this planet. In the beginning, they had nothing but the supplies they’d salvaged from the wreckage of their crashed ship. They’d huddled inside the ruined shell as the rain fell day after day. Being in such close quarters had nearly driven him to the breaking point more than once, and he’d spent most of his time outside. Flash floods, carnivorous wildlife, and the constant rain had been better than being stuck inside with his brothers.

Mayhem worked on the roof from above while Menace worked from below. They’d fallen into a comfortable silence that made it easier for him to stay focused on the job and not the proximity of the others. The longer he could work uninterrupted, the longer he could stay.

So of course, his brother had to do something stupid. Mayhem growled and tugged so hard at the thatching he was working on that part of it pulled loose and showering Menace with bits of vegetation.

“If you fuck that up, you can fix it yourself.” He glared up at his clanmate while brushing plant bits and dust out of his beard. A long blade of orange grass hung from one of his horns and he swiped at it absently.

“You grumble more than Strife when it rains. It’s fine,” Mayhem replied unapologetically.

His dark side wanted to grab his brother by the horns and drag him through the hole in the roof. Instead, he flashed his fangs and made a joke. “No need to be insulting. I don’t grumble anywhere near as much as he does.”

A moment later they were caught in a shower of freshly cut branches. Strife had obviously heard them.

“Asshole,” he hollered loudly enough his brother couldn’t fail to hear. Then he sighed and looked around at the mess. “Now we need to stop and clean up before we can start the next section.”

“You’re grumbling again,” Mayhem said.

He swallowed an angry retort and rolled his shoulders to disguise some of his tension. “One more comment from you and I’m going home. You can finish this yourself.”

He didn’t want to leave until the work was done, but it wouldn’t be the first time. His brothers understood. They all had the same problem, though he’d always been affected more than the others. He hid it as best he could, but they gave him space when he needed it. The need to dominate was part of their design, but the verexi had—by intention or by accident—ramped his up to dangerous levels.

He rarely thought about the scrawnies—their name for the race responsible for creating him and his brothers. Thinking about their captors only made him seethe and wish for a chance at payback. Not that the verexi were stupid enough to come down to the planet where they’d imprisoned his clan. Losing control of their creations was an embarrassment for them. From time to time, the verexi would hire mercenaries to try and exterminate the fa’rel. Each time that happened, the mercenaries died and his clan would add a few more weapons and other tools to their limited supplies. Hunting down the mercs was the best way to keep his dark side satiated.

As if in answer to his thoughts, a sharp series of beeps erupted. He’d never been here the other times, but he knew what that alarm meant. The verexi’s hired killers were back.

It was time to go hunting again.

He followed Mayhem to the small shelter that protected some of their most important assets—a cobbled-together mess of components that allowed them an illicit link to the verexi’s satellite network. It warned them when anything entered the planet’s atmosphere.

“What is it?” he asked Mayhem once the other male had a chance to look at the monitor. Strife joined him at the door and they both waited for confirmation of what was happening.

“We’re about to have company.”

Good. That would take the edge off his anger and give him a few days of relative peace. Long enough to make sure everyone’s homes were ready for the coming rainy season.

Mayhem and Strife knew more about computers and constructs than he did, but he’d seen enough to understand. A cluster of small ships fell away from a much larger one that continued on its original heading. The bigger ship would fly over his territory and should land on the far side of a range of hills while the smaller ships were descending rapidly toward fa’rel territory. In fact, one of those vessels should land in the area he’d claimed for himself.

Even better. He’d be hunting on familiar ground.

They watched the screen, trying to estimate where the ships would land. The system lost track of them as they neared the surface, but Menace knew where to start looking. Each of them had a ship coming down in their claimed territory. It was an odd strategy, one none of them had seen before. None of them understood what the enemy was up to. Not that it mattered. They were the enemy and they would die.

“When will they stop trying?” Menace asked, slapping his fist into his open palm.

Mayhem turned away from the monitor. “Let them come. This is our home and we’ll defend it.”

“To the death,” Strife added.

“To the death,” Menace repeated, meaning every word.

The three of them butted heads, their horns clacking as they touched. They bid each other good hunting and set out.

Menace didn’t bother taking the stairs. He vaulted over the railing a split second faster than Strife, both of them bounding from limb to limb, letting gravity do most of the work.

His claws carved new gouges in thick branches as he descended, slowing him enough to let him land on his feet. He was already sprinting toward his territory when the distinct sizzle of a signal gun discharging sounded followed by an ear-piercing screech intended to catch the attention of anyone who’d missed the light show.

He didn’t bother slowing to look. He knew what had happened. Mayhem had sent up a bright green flare, letting the others know a hunt was underway. Since only three ships were nearby, the hunt would be short and simple, each of them dealing with the invaders in their territory. The rest of the clan would prepare their defenses and wait. They didn’t have communication equipment. When a flare went up, everyone returned home and got ready. If another clanmate arrived with news, they’d react. Otherwise, they would stay near home and prepare.

Menace raced through the forest, using the shortcuts he’d long since memorized to reach his territory as fast as possible. Their territory was set out in a rough circle, and each of them claimed a triangular section with the crash site at the center. Most of the others had built their homes a short run from the middle.

He hadn’t. His house was near the distant boundary of the land he’d claimed for himself, and as it happened, it was the opposite edge from where he’d estimated the ship would land. Going home to gear up would waste valuable time, so he chose a different route—one that would take him to the right area and straight to a cache of supplies he’d placed for this kind of scenario. He didn’t know if any of the others had done the same thing, but he assumed at least some of them had.

They’d spent too many years stashing food and hiding what few items they’d managed to create or steal from the scrawnies to stop now. They’d want to be prepared for anything. Just like him.

The cache was stored in a cave partway up a hill. It wasn’t large, but it was high enough to stay dry even in the rainy season, and he’d fashioned a door heavy enough to keep out any of the local fauna. He stayed there sometimes when he didn’t feel like facing the summer storms that drenched the forest and sent lightning dancing through the clouds overhead.

He only took a few minutes to gear up, tying greaves to his lower legs and securing wide bands of leather to his wrists. He fastened a short kilt of boiled leather straps around his waist and adjusted the fit so it didn’t rub the fur over his hips. He hated wearing the thing, but it offered too much protection to forgo it. Not that it would do much against blaster fire, but the mercenaries weren’t the only dangerous predators on this planet. Teeth and claws were a much more common threat, and he’d likely run more of them than the mercs.

He grinned at that thought. More than once, the local wildlife had reduced the enemy’s ranks before the fa’rel joined the hunt. Menace was fine with that. He was happy to share the kill with anyone or anything, so long as they didn’t get in his way.

He armed himself with a variety of weapons and then jogged further up the hill to a rocky outcrop that offered a good view of the valley they called home. The boundary of his land was marked by a slow-moving river they called the bend.

Bysshe had tried to argue for something more poetic, but the android’s suggestions were all shot down by the fa’rel. It was a river. It had many bends in it. The name was simple and obvious. Bysshe had muttered about their lack of imagination, which seemed odd coming from the only artificial lifeform in their clan. Bysshe was an honorary member of the fa’rel despite the fact he’d been created by humans. He never spoke about how he’d ended up under the control of the scrawnies, and none of them had pressed him about it. The past didn’t matter. Their future was uncertain. All that mattered was the moment and the memories of those they’d lost along the way.

As he scanned the river with one of the few sets of functional binoculars they possessed, he couldn’t help but think about one of his clanmates. Rage had been the oldest of them, and he’d done what he could to protect them from the worst of the scrawnies’ cruelty. He would have loved this planet with its open sky and stretches of forest so vast you could lose yourself for days. Rage had died in an escape attempt not long before the verexi finally gave up on their experiment and pretended to arrange for the surviving fa’rel to live the rest of their lives on an uninhabited planet. They’d even sent down supplies, though the containers were mostly full of useless gear like bathtubs instead of what was promised.

None of them had any idea why their captors had provided them with anything at all. It didn’t make sense. The verexi had promised them a new life, but their plan had always been to kill them. Bysshe had figured that out and warned them once they were on the ship that brought them here. The crash landing was the best they could manage once they had taken the ship’s AI offline.

Rage had missed his chance at freedom. He’d died trying to find a way for them all to escape. It wasn’t fair. Menace smacked his fist into his flat palm. Nothing in their lives had ever been fair, but losing Rage stung the most. One day they would take the fight to the scrawnies. Then, he’d dedicate every kill to the brothers he’d lost, starting with Rage.

When he spotted debris along the edge of the river, his thoughts of revenge shifted from the future to this moment. The enemy appeared to have crashed their ship into the water. A tiny ship. Hmm.

He increased the magnification until he could make it out clearly. Not a ship. An escape pod. At least that’s what he assumed based on the fact it had inflated some sort of flotation device to keep it from sinking. He’d initially expected a scout ship, but that wasn’t the case. This pod was a one-way delivery system, not really a ship at all.

His grin widened until his fangs showed. If the three small ships were all pods, the larger ship must have had serious issues big enough to make it crash. If they could get to the wreck before the mercs could destroy it, there would be plenty of supplies and weapons to scavenge.

Today was a good day after all.

He put away the binoculars, checked his weapons were secure, and set off toward the river. It was time to go hunting.

***

Ready for more? Marked For Menace releases September 27th. ORDER NOW