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Poison

My new book, a futuristic m/m romance entitled Poison is now on sale at My Bookstore and More!

Here’s the blurb:

In this world, trust is hard to find…and the one thing they need to survive.

Tobias Smator lives down his late father’s execution by avoiding the spotlight—and responsibility. He doesn’t mind what people think of him as long as they leave him alone. Still, in this unremarkable half-life he’s fashioned for himself on deceptively low-tech Rimania, he’s not safe from political intrigue. Someone wants him dead.

Alliance operative Geln Marac’s orders for his first assignment were simple: Stay uninvolved. Those orders go out the window, however, when he delivers an antidote to save Tobias from death by poisoning. His reward? Possible betrayal that lands him in the hands of police interrogators. To protect the Alliance, Geln resorts to a temporary mindwipe.

Tobias is fascinated by the amnesiac man who saved his life. But Geln has attracted the attention of the high-powered Lord Eberly, who would use him as a pawn. Rather than sacrifice Geln to the political wolves, Tobias chooses to embrace his heritage.

Geln’s memory reawakens to a precarious situation with no source of protection—except Tobias. There’s only one way forward for both of them.

Trust—or die.

Warning: this book contains hot nekkid otherplanetary manlove.

EXCERPT:

Five hours later, after many tedious but informal questions by Officer Lahane, Tobias returned home to watch his mother fly down the stairs and throw herself on his shoulder, sobbing theatrically. He put an arm around her, though he couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged and he felt too weary for this kind of display.

“I thought you were going to be imprisoned, or worse.” She pulled back to look at him, as if he’d just come home from a three-month vacation and she was proud of his adventures. She lifted a hand towards his face. “Your cheek is healing nicely.”

“I guess.” It still hurt to talk and he’d been forced to talk all day.

“Did they treat you well?”

“It was fine.”

“Fine? When I’ve been frantic, not knowing what they’d do to you.” A long shaky sigh was wrung from her. Then she brightened a little. “Fortunately, I’ve had Geln to keep me company. He’s been a wonderful distraction.”

Tobias stiffened. “Geln Marac is here?”

“Yes.” His mother turned her head and looked up. Tobias followed her gaze and saw the green-eyed boy leaning on the balustrade observing this tender family scene. He was too young for her, and a worker. She’d hate that. “I needed the emotional support.”

Support? Tobias frowned while Geln grinned as if sincerely glad to see him. He raised one hand and, in a parody of a wave, waggled his fingers.

“I’m pleased to meet you standing, Tobias.” The voice was rich, though not deep, and full of humor.

Geln’s attempt to charm annoyed Tobias. One enthralled Smator was surely more than enough. He didn’t respond to Geln’s greeting, though he kept his gaze on that pretty face as he spoke. “Geln’s a worker, Mother.”

“Worker?” she repeated, tone implying Tobias had made a bad joke.

Geln went very still. With that one word, worker, his friendly smile vanished, his expression dimmed, and Tobias felt regretful, like he’d just lost something.

“The police are very interested in him,” Tobias continued, ostensibly talking to his mother. But he didn’t wish the police on anyone, especially a worker, and Geln deserved the warning. Tobias disliked his mother’s sycophants, but had some loyalty for the man who had helped him vomit up poison. It was why he’d said as little as possible about Geln to the police.

“Geln?” His mother spun around to look up at the young beauty. She spoke too quickly. “What’s Tobias talking about? You can’t be a worker.” Her polished smile was slipping.

“No, I can’t,” he drawled. “But life can get complicated. Excuse me a moment.” He disappeared from view.

She turned back to Tobias. “Worker? Are you sure?”

Tobias felt bad. “That’s what the police said. Look, Mother, I’m exhausted.” Tobias reached for the bell-pull and rang for his man.

They waited in awkward silence, his mother looking away from him, lost in thought.

“The police say he’s a worker?” she asked yet again, this time in a quiet, small voice, right before Sandorl entered the foyer.

“Yes,” Tobias sighed. Perhaps he had just ended a promising relationship, but he hadn’t wanted that man with his mother anyway.

Tobias handed Sandorl his overcoat and trudged up to his room.

Geln slammed his fist against the brick wall, abrading the skin. “Major screw up. Major, major screw up. Damn, damn, damn.”

Kleemach didn’t respond right away. Then it sounded amused. “Sound-damping comes in handy at times, doesn’t it?”

“I am screwed, so screwed. I am—”

“Stop that.” Kleemach’s voice changed, likely a subroutine kicking in. “Breathe slowly and get yourself under control. Now.”

“Major is such a stupid word.” Geln whimpered.

“Calm down, Geln. We’ll handle this.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“You’re not alone.”

In theory, no. Geln had Kleemach’s extensive support. But physically and emotionally Geln was alone, marooned on a feudal planet with an AI floating far above him. It took all of Geln’s will not to scream bullshit. He wrapped his arms around himself and dug fingers into his skin—the dank washroom was cold.

“Okay,” said Kleemach, all business. “Let’s go over this. How much do they know?”

“They believe I’m a worker. They’re going to bloody well interrogate me. Not only do their drugs and violence scare the crap out of me, but I’ll reveal what I know about the cadre. The cadre can be pathetic and violent, but I don’t want to betray them.”

“You have more potent secrets.”

Kleemach didn’t give a crap about the homegrown cadre, a rather motley group of men with unrealistic aspirations that involved overthrowing the government. What the AI didn’t want Rimanians to discover was Alliance espionage. Well, neither did Geln, given that he was a spy. “Yes, Kleemach. Hell knows what the Rimanians will do once they realize I’m an Alliance operative. Hell knows what the Alliance will do.”

“The Alliance is on your side. Don’t be needlessly paranoid, Geln.”

Geln snorted. “From now on I’ll save my paranoia for situations that warrant it.”

Kleemach didn’t answer. Its pauses, rare and unsettling, indicated it was searching for an appropriate response. “We’ll have to convince them you’re elite,” it said in a clipped I’m-on-top-of-this-mess tone. “Why do they think you’re a worker?”

“I don’t know, Klee. But the police told Tobias Smator I am.” His voice was rising again.

“Calm down, man.” Perhaps Klee thought “man” was a term of affection? Though how its affection was supposed to help him now, Geln couldn’t fathom. “We’re going to change your birthright from worker to elite. Though it will take some finagling.”

“I don’t have time.” The strangled words came out between clenched teeth, but that was better than high-pitched panic.

“Yes, you do.” Klee’s voice sounded dismissive, as if it was already working hard on Geln’s case.

It would find a solution, Geln tried to reassure himself. Klee was good at this, it had been specifically created to oversee Geln’s operations. The Alliance wouldn’t just abandon Geln. He was gathering all kinds of useful information, having been accepted as a member of the cadre and as an admirer of the Minister of State’s mistress, just as Peo, his primary operative, had ordered.

Geln’s trembling, now caused by a sweat-induced chill, started up again. He’d been leaning against the brick of the heat-sucking manor trying not to faint. He detached himself from the wall.

“We’ve got time,” Klee continued. “The police aren’t terribly efficient here. They’ve already sent someone to collect you at your lodgings, so don’t go home.”

Geln rolled his eyes. As if he would even consider such a stupid move.

“But get out of this house. Even the police will twig to the fact that you could be here.”

He would leave as soon as his legs could carry him out. It occurred to Geln that he’d better wash his face, get his act together and stop reacting like a total amateur.

“Geln, you’re important, but not that important. The Rimanians haven’t mobilized the entire police force in order to locate you in the next two hours. If you’re careful, they won’t find you this evening. Go to a bar you don’t frequent, say Fargo’s, and keep a low profile.”

Dammit. Klee was winging it, projecting a persona that was programmed to reassure skittish operatives.

Klee’s voice continued on inexorably, smooth and confident. “Contact me once you’re at Fargo’s. In the meantime, I’m setting you up as an elite. That way you’ll get the MRI inquiry and you can lie through your teeth with a little help from our chemical friend, stosh. No Rimanian drugs. No beatings. You’ll get clear. Okay?”

“Yes,” Geln agreed, sounding stronger than he felt. He supposed stosh-induced amnesia was preferable to Rimanian drugs, but he wasn’t keen on a temporary brain-wipe. Even if the memories came back. Mostly.

It would be something of a relief not to think about everything for a while.

“You’ll be fine, Geln.”

“Yeah? Is that what Peo thinks?”

“Your primary operative”—for some reason Klee disliked Geln’s nickname for this woman—“trusts my judgment.”

Klee’s pat answer.

“Right.” Though Geln hadn’t thought it possible, he felt even more desperate than usual to meet his PO. But it wasn’t allowed and, this way, the police would not be able to extract a useful name from him, no matter what drug they fed him.

Well, he had his own secrets. He hadn’t told Klee he’d saved Tobias’s life last night. Why the hell had he done that anyway? Klee, meaning the Alliance, would disapprove. Geln wasn’t to interfere in Rimanian politics, whatever form they took.

But the whites of Tobias’s eyes had yellowed, a symptom of emolio poisoning which smacked distinctly of offworld politics. Geln had had seconds to choose his course of action and saving a life had been the easy moral choice of the moment, even if a little thought tagged Peo as the likely source of the drug. He hoped she wasn’t the poisoner. Hell. No wonder he was so panicked.

But Geln just didn’t have time to dwell on the emergency pill he’d given away last night. He had to concentrate on the crisis at hand. “I’ll need my cover, Klee, and I’ll need to believe it.”

“I’ll get you one. Stay out of the police’s way until we talk again.”

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