#WeeklyWritables ♥ Deal With the Devil


Deal With the Devil

Twilight didn’t fall in the city. It crept up from the gutters, hovering just below the streetlamps long before it touched the sky. Perpetuated by the shadows of looming buildings hungry for everyone’s personal space. Dahlia had always dreamed of rising above them, to see the monster in its entirety. Preferably through the window of a plane whisking her off to some tropical destination. In her fantasies, there was a distant land filled with women just like her and men who loved them freely, not as a vice or fetish. Women who’d been born as men, trying to survive their lot in this sadist’s wet dream called life.

That fantasy was all that remained of her whimsical side. Disenchantment was a slow poison snuffing out hope with such stealth, its death went unnoticed. For the most part, Dahlia had already come to terms with her fate. Learned to embrace the prickly city that tolerated her for its own gain; squeezing all the blood and money out of her in exchange for a few scraps of joy and something making a mockery of love. Everyone did the best with what they had, right? But, it wasn’t about acceptance, anymore. The stigma would follow her, no matter where she went. It was all about survival now.

Through the window of a cab, she watched the crowded sidewalks perform their slow striptease. Layers of business attire peeled away to reveal the sexed-up desperation underneath. Modesty fell by the wayside, as pretty feens clamored for the attention they’d spent all day craving in denial. And the scum snaked out of the inkwells to intersperse themselves among the commoners, seeking the thrill of the game. They were all there to hustle. Thieves and denizens, alike. Men and women poached each other to fill some kind of void, while con-artists relieved them of all their hard-earned cash.

Dahlia had never been guiltless of running cons, but she was hustling big tonight. Stuck her damn neck out for it, too, with all the determination of getting her prize at the end. Her whimsical side might be halfway to the grave, but her reality-check light was still functioning at full capacity and the truth was: she wasn’t getting any younger or relevant. The novelty of her was wearing thin. Newer, more exotic options flooded into the streets daily, siphoning revenue from the Bosses. It made Dahlia expendable and she needed to move on, before they decided to prove it. Leaving just wasn’t an option when your ass was owned. It was something you had to make happen. Sacrifice it all to create a diversion, then run like hell and pray no one noticed.

Too quickly, she arrived at her destination and spotted her diversion sitting alone in the farthest, gloomiest corner the second she walked in. He wore a dark coat and hat, shrouding his masculine features in more mystery than his reputation already secured. As instructed, she went to the bar first and ordered a drink she didn’t even want. Bourbon was poured neat, while she ignored the inevitable gawking with the ease of expertise and a spine of solid diva. It didn’t matter that most of it was forced and left her feeling hollow. They bought that shit, so fuck ’em.

Her hand shook when it wrapped around the glass, because she was nearing that point of no return. Once she set her plan into motion, there would be no going back. No way to stop or reverse it. Oh hell, who was she kidding? It was already too late. The devil had her name. Dahlia turned, just in time to catch the man’s deliberate glance, as he walked right out the back door. Foreboding cut down her spine like a clever, her heart slamming against her chest to avoid the blade. Suddenly, the drink made perfect sense and she downed it without tasting a single drop. No burn, no effect. Nothing could quell her nerves.

With every step toward the back door, she tormented herself with vivid memories she’d just as soon forget. It was the fuel needed to sustain her conviction. The reminder of why she’d contacted the devil, himself, to ask for a favor. And she’d known then what she knew now, that it had all the potential of freeing her from everything. Permanently.

The single fixture mounted above the door was meant only to illuminate the dumpsters directly across the alley, it seemed. Of course, that wasn’t where he waited for her. Theirs was not destined to be a friendly chat. Dahlia inhaled a steadying breath, released the door and left the false sense of security to enter the darkness. The man leaned a shoulder against the wall halfway between the door and the next street. She’d be dead before anyone spotted them, even if he wasn’t as lethal as everyone claimed.

It was the most damning moment of hindsight when she stopped in front of him, only to discover she’d been the one getting hustled all along. There wasn’t a single sound to warn her of the tremendously imposing presence that crept up right behind her. And there was no stopping the chill of dread when she watched the man before her silently defer to the devil at her backside.

“Hello, Dahlia.” Hot, cinnamon breath caressed her neck and cheek, he was so close. Self-preservation had her head turning before her body followed.

She stared into the face of the most notorious monster of their time, that no one beyond their sick, depraved world even knew existed, and finally understood the meaning of beautiful death. Her body heated and withered in terror simultaneously; some primal instinct recognizing the cold predator through the mouthwatering façade. His eyes were two pools of undiluted malevolence, beckoning her to dive in with the power of self-destructive urges. The way you sometimes wanted to squeeze a glass so hard it broke. Not from anger, just to feel it happen.

“So much prettier than I expected, given everything I’ve learned,” he remarked. “Guess it’s true what they say about scars only being soul deep.”

No one said that. It was too true for comfort. Dahlia’s heart hammered in every corner of her body. The city lost all its power over her, unable to compete with him. It was no surprise that he’d dug into her real identity before agreeing to meet, or that he’d find her as they all did; something to judge and dismiss in one, careless motion.

He made the quietest sound of amusement, and it was–hands down–the most terrifying thing she’d ever heard. He crowded her without touching, pulling the toothpick from between his lips and waving it under her nose, revealing the source of cinnamon. Her head jerked back out of reflexive fear, but he grabbed the back of her head to keep her in place.

“This is going to burn no matter where I insert it, but I imagine, particularly in the tip of that little prick between your legs.”

Dahlia nearly choked on the glob of terror clogging in her throat. “I’m allergic to cinnamon,” she rushed out, despising herself for giving him the exact means to kill her, just by trying to stop it from happening.

“Imagine that,” he mused, sticking the toothpick back into his mouth. The pure menace in his tone revealed he’d already had that information prior to arriving and her chest felt like it was going to cave in. “Tell me, Dahlia, what would make a woman like you crawl all over the dark-web looking for a man like me?”

“I didn’t do it for me–”

His chuckle was quiet, which only made it worse. “Yes, you did.”

“I want out,” she confessed. “Alive. I want out alive.”

“Mm. Well, I want the girl,” he deadpanned, all humor gone. “Can you do that? Are you willing to trade her life for yours?”

There was no question, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. To know she was completely willing to trade the life of a friend in exchange for her own freedom, her own life.


With another laugh, he backed her into the wall, caging her head between his hands and leaning in so close she was afraid to breathe.

“Yes, she says. So cold. So ruthless.” His words were deliberate slaps at what humanity she had left. “I’d say we seal our deal with a kiss, but I’ve always been a man of business over pleasure. I am curious, though. If you had to choose between the ugliness in your mind and having the surgery, which would it be?”

The toothpick moved between his lips when he spoke, coming within a hair of her own. He might as well have been brandishing a knife in her face for all the cold sweat breaking out along her brow. His sharp perception pierced right into her soul, exposing her deepest shame. That she’d rather keep the horrific memories than lose the parts she’d been born with. She’d never wanted surgery, the consultation he’d obviously found in her medical records had simply been another cruelty dealt by the one man who was supposed to love her more than anyone else.

“Ugliness, it is.” His smile was sinister, reveling in all the turmoil and conflict he bred.

“How am I supposed to get you the girl?” she forced out, more than ready to conclude their meeting, despite what her body thought.

“Beautiful Dahlia, all you need to worry about is doing exactly what I tell you to do,” he answered. “No deviation, no looking out for number one or growing a conscience when shit starts getting real. You’re going to do this like a fucking pro, because if you don’t…well, I’m sure you’ve heard how that story ends.”

“She really is the one who wanted you, not me,” Dahlia stated, needing it on record to ease her guilt. Was she supposed to risk her life without finding some way to save it in the process? She wasn’t an opportunist, damn it, she was a survivor!

Once more, his quiet laugh molested the murky shadows, conjuring the very basis of every nightmare known to man.

“And now she’s going to get me,” he replied. “You’re the one standing here, begging to live with that.”


 ©A.C. Melody 2019_Untitled WIP

 WOW, this was completely unexpected and not at all what I had planned for this challenge. This scene was never meant to exist, let alone get completely fleshed out like this – because, Dahlia is not my main character. She’s a sub-character with a minor – yet extremely vital – role and apparently, she wanted us all to know exactly what she had to go through to pull her part off! LOL What do you even call the process of putting your characters through hell after the fact? O_o

When the book’s done, I’m going to have to add this as bonus material, it’s too gorgeous – sometimes, it pays to have demanding characters. (I said sometimes!)


#WeeklyWritables Challenge


Good morning, writers, readers, bloggers & all around mischief makers!

One of my biggest goals for 2019 is to get back into the habit of blogging more regularly, but after being on WP since 2013, finding fresh and original content can be quite difficult. I used to participate in the Daily Prompt hosted by WP, but I’m no longer in the position to do that. I need to schedule my post in advance by at least 24 hours. I know I can’t be alone in this, so I’ve come up with an idea that I hope will eventually catch on:

I’m launching a weekly writing challenge called #WeeklyWritables starting today. Every Tuesday morning I will post a random word and anyone who’d like to join in will have until Thursday to publish their work.

The rules are simple:

  1. Your post must contain the random word at least once (using it for your pingback is probably the most familiar practice for anyone who’s ever done the Daily Prompts)
  2. Short stories, flash fiction, poems, WIP excerpts, and real life experiences are welcome
  3. Please no song lyrics, unless you wrote them yourself – there are already so many music challenges out there, I’d really like this one to be all about creative writing

That’s it! There are no restrictions on length, you can make it as long or short as you want, this is all about feeding your creative energy! You’re free to use the graphic I’ve created for my posts or you can create your own. And if you do participate please don’t forget to leave a pingback so I can find your post and read it. I don’t expect this to be an overnight success, but do hope you’ll join in if/when you can!

The #WeeklyWritables word for this Thursday is: Hustle

Dear Indie ♥ Whahappened?


Hi Indies!

Have you joined Bookbub yet? Did you know that if you’ve been on the market for awhile, there’s a good chance you already have a Bookbub profile – with followers! – just waiting for you to claim it?

I didn’t either, until my friend and author, Anna Adler pointed it out to me. It was one of those “whahappened?” moments, but in a good way! I always thought Bookbub was very selective about who they allowed to join their site, that authors had to have a gazillion 5 Star reviews in order to qualify. So, they weren’t yet on my radar as a source to finding and reaching potential readers. I was pleasantly surprised to learn I already had a profile with followers, and all I had to do was prove that I’m me by sharing one of my book URLs and signing into one of my social media accounts via Bookbub – now I’m waiting for my approval email from them so I can start rockin’ out my profile and adding my full list of available books!

I’ve seen other authors rave about how much Bookbub does for increasing their readership and book sales, they’re known to be in the top tier of places you want to be in this industry. That’s why I wanted to share this with everyone, in case you also have an unclaimed profile on there with followers just waiting to hear all about your new releases and WIPs!

I know it’s Monday, but try to have an awesome day, anyway! 😀

Coming up next for Dear Indie: How to create a basic template for the interior layout of a paperback novel for writers without MS Office/Word.

#SongLyricSunday ♪ “Wild Boys” – Duran Duran


I’m taking a bit of a risk of this one being chosen more than once, but I can’t help it – it’s my all-time favorite Duran Duran song and I’ve been waiting for the chance to use it. 😀 Make sure to swing on over to Helen’s blog: This Thing Called Life One Word at a Time by clicking on the theme link below. Join in the fun, or check out all the other song picks for today!

This week’s theme is: Boys

We were all die-hard DD fans back in the 80’s and I remember that on top of the usual paper posters, my cousin had a silk banner of the band that I thought was the coolest thing ever hanging above the door in her bedroom. But while my cousins and friends all had Duran Duran’s most popular hits like “Rio” and “The Reflex” on repeat, no one ever wanted to listen to “Wild Boys” like I did. I guess it was a bit harder or more aggressive than their usual tracks – even “Hungry Like a Wolf” still had that feel-good, electro-pop sound – Which is probably why I loved this one so much more. And still do to this day. Enjoy!

Wild boys
Wild boys
Wild boys
Wild boys

Wild, wild, boys, boys

The wild boys are calling
On their way back from the fire
In August moon’s surrender to
A dust cloud on the rise

Wild boys fallen far from glory
Reckless and so hungered
On the razors edge you trail
Because there’s murder by the roadside
In a sore afraid new world
They tried to break us
Looks like they’ll try again

Wild boys (wild boys) never lose it
Wild boys (wild boys) never chose this way
Wild boys (wild boys) never close your eyes
Wild boys always shine

You got sirens for a welcome
There’s bloodstain for your pain
And your telephone been ringing
While you’re dancing in the rain

Wild boys wonder where is glory
Where is all you angels
Now the figureheads of have fell
And lovers war with arrows
Over secrets they could tell

They tried to tame you looks like they’ll try again

Wild boys (wild boys) never lose it
Wild boys (wild boys) never chose this way
Wild boys (wild boys) never close your eyes
Wild boys always shine

Wild boys
Wild boys
Wild boys

Wild boys
Wild boys
Wild boys

Wild boys (wild boys) never lose it
Wild boys (wild boys) never chose this way
Wild boys (wild boys) never close your eyes
Wild boys always

Wild boys (wild boys) never lose it
Wild boys (wild boys) never chose this way
Wild boys (wild boys) never close your eyes
Wild boys always

Wild boys (wild boys) never lose it
Wild boys (wild boys) never chose this way
Wild boys (wild boys) never close your eyes
Wild boys always

Wild boys


Songwriters: Andy Taylor / John Taylor / Nick Rhodes / Roger Taylor / Simon Le Bon
Lyrics found on Google
The Wild Boys lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

I do not own any rights to this song, video or lyrics. All rights remain with the artists and their respective agents. No copyright infringement intended.

#SongLyricSunday ♫ “Last Man Standing” – Graffiti Ghosts


Almost missed this again for 2 weekends in a row, but remembered at the last minute. I’d feel worse about it, if it wasn’t because I’ve been plugging away in my writing cave getting the final few chapters done for my next book! I’m really having a blast with these characters, too – and since they belong to my Hell on Earth series, it just ties in really nicely with my song choice for today’s prompt – or maybe that’s why I thought of it. 😉 Make sure to click on the theme link below to check out Helen’s blog, This Thing Called Life One Word at a Time, and all the other song picks for today!

This week’s theme is: Last

For my pick, I’ve chosen a song off the Lucifer soundtrack, because like the show, it’s bad ass. Still waiting for Netflix to release Season 4 and am super happy they picked it up after it was cancelled by the network (man, are you guys dumb) – now a Netflix Original, I can’t wait to see which direction the show takes without all the restrictions it had before. 😀

Couldn’t find a video for this one, but I don’t think fans of the graphic novel: Last Man Standing: Killbook of a Bounty Hunter by Daniel LuVisi will mind the static shot.

Your trigger finger better think about your future
You’re getting twisted thinking I don’t want to shoot ya
I’ve been waiting for a long time
and I’m coming back to get what’s mine

Sick of living with your little double faces
I’m getting itchy and so livid I can taste it
I’ve been waiting for a long time
and I’m swinging til I get what’s mine
but I’m not going down
I’m not going down

I’ll be the last man standing
The last man standing
You know I never bend I never break
I’m the heavyweight with all the answers

I’m the last man standing
I’m the last man standing
I drew a line into the sand cuz I only plan to be the last man
the last man standing

You’re hesitating wasting days I didn’t give you
And it’s too late to pray or say you didn’t think through
We’re toe to toe you better make a move
Cuz I’m standing right in front of you
but I’m not going down
I’m not going down

I’ll be the last man standing
The last man standing
You know I never bend I never break
I’m the heavyweight with all the answers

I’m the last man standing
I’m the last man standing
I drew line into the sand cuz I only plan to be the last man
the last man standing

I’ll be the last man standing
The last man standing
You know I never bend I never break
I’m the heavyweight with all the answers

I’m the last man standing
I’m the last man standing
I drew line into the sand cuz I only plan to be the last man
the last man standing


Songwriters: Written By Lawrence Katz/C. Todd Nielsen
Published By Mixed Metaphor Music
Lyrics found: Courtesy Of Position Music

I do not own any rights to this song, lyrics or video. All rights remain with the artists and their respective agents. No copyright infringement intended.


Sensual Sentient ♥ Episode 7


image source: I.F. 221C by Andree Wallin on Deviantart

Know Thy Enemy

The echo of Sida’s screams followed Blake and the others over the valley, as the Meylosian cruiser rushed them toward their fate.


The familiar, muffled voice came from the other side of the black wall of Non-Terrestrial squished against Blake’s right side. “Johansen?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered.

“Who else?” he asked.

“Lupo, sir.” Engineering Junior Grade, Torance Lupo, replied.

“And Kass, sir.”

Ensign Baron Kass was a medical officer Blake had never seen outside of the infirmary before and he prayed he wasn’t the only one Sida had ordered to join the field team. The thought of her and the rest of the crew being stranded on an unknown planet without a medic didn’t help his already foul mood. Especially,  when he knew they’d most likely sustained injuries in all that chaos with the other patrol cruisers. Of course, that would only be a problem if the NT’s didn’t decide to cook them up for dinner. Fuck!

Blake ground his teeth in frustration, but he wasn’t completely irate. He would get captured a thousand times over if it meant his captain was free with a fighting chance of survival, and hopefully a rescue plan.

“Okay crew, as you’ve probably noticed, we’re dealing with the Meylos, who are supposed to be non-hostile neutrals. Filthy bleeding liars,” Blake swore, despite his lungs going numb from lack of space. “Just stay calm and I’ll get us out of this somehow. I doubt the opportunistic vultures want to go to war with Earth.”

The hot air that rushed over them wasn’t all natural, but enhanced by the cruiser’s energy field and proton net. The only thing Blake was grateful for was that he was facing the underbelly of the ship, rather than the valley far below. That would certainly make it difficult to think clearly. The trek over the jungle grew a little cooler as they passed over the large lake that followed. In no time, they were in the city that he and Sida had spied from the ridge, yet his limbs had still managed to turn into pin-prickling uselessness from lack of circulation. Noise assaulted them from every direction, but it was recognizable; the din of a bustling urban center.

The ship’s descent was somewhat nauseating and by the time it came to a hovering stop, a million different scenarios had already raced through Blake’s mind. A thousand logical steps to take. His adrenaline was still churning, while he tried to capture every new invasion to his senses. The net was slowly lowered and only a few seconds ticked by, before he felt solid ground beneath his back.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The unmistakable nasal curl of a Meylosian’s voice questioned from somewhere nearby.

It was a male, though higher pitched than the average human male range. The Meylos accent was unique, sounding equally Austrian and British without any distinction between the two, yet warped into some kind of dual inflection.

“When I heard there were Earthlings running about the jungles, I just had to come see it for myself,” the speaker continued.

As the Meylos started his speech, the net was released and Blake’s lungs immediately inflated with the additional room, causing him to suck in huge, audible breaths. The relief from the weight and renewed circulation made his skin tingle painfully. He couldn’t even attempt to sit up while the feeling slowly returned to all his limbs. It didn’t seem to be an issue for the NT, though, who released a snarling battle cry and lunged off the tarmac. The Meylosian soldiers standing by merely cocooned him in his own personal proton net and watched him topple over onto the ground.

“Imagine my surprise in this moment to see that it’s not only true, but we have in our company, officers from Earth’s Galactic Navy, itself. To include its Commander,” the Meylos continued.

Blake and his team were lifted off the ground by the soldiers and their commentator finally came into view, stopping directly in front of Blake. His long, spindly finger ended in a talon and flicked the insignia embedded into the material of Blake’s AABV. It took a considerable amount of restraint not to deck the thing right in its ugly little face. Meylosians were supposed to be neutral diplomats, mediators and negotiators that helped set up mutually beneficial trade business between planetary systems. Blake had always found them to be an extremely pretentious race, but altogether harmless. They were the yuppies of the universe.

Blake towered over him, for the Meylos were quite petite in stature. They made up for it with the long, broad feathers that grew out of their narrow, oval scalps and curved backward like a headdress. This alone was their only distinguishing feature, each style, color and pattern unique to the individual or a genetic marker of their bloodline. Otherwise, they all looked the same. Pale coral skin, their noses nothing more than a thin spine down the center of their faces that ended in two small slits. Their mouths were small and scaled like a lizards, their eyes round and eerily identical to those of a baby Caiman’s. They were like the missing evolutionary link no one ever wanted to find.

“Last I heard, GINESS was welcome in the Meylos System,” Blake stated.

“But of course,” the Meylosian gestured grandly to their surroundings. “You, I’m afraid, will not be seeing the Meylos System anytime soon, Commander. Toss them on the transleigh.”

Blake didn’t fight when those orders were followed out by the soldiers. He and his crew watched as the NT was lifted onto his own separate sleigh, still trapped in a net. Cargo sleighs were designed to hold up to five tons without losing altitude, which was only about three and a half feet off the ground. The Meylos leader lounged across the buffer ledge at the front of their sleigh, staring down from his mild perch at Blake and his three unfortunate crewmates. Pretentious bastard. The sleighs started moving, heading off the brightly lit tarmac and into one of the large hangars that were open at both ends.

“You and I both know you didn’t come here by ship, Commander,” their captor spoke, as if there had been no lapse in the conversation.

The nice thing about dealing with narcissists was they enjoyed the sound of their own voices so much, they tended to reveal pertinent information in their outpouring of bullshit, with next to no prodding. The truths were typically springboards for their embellishments, easily transliterated into vital details by applying sheer common sense. Blake didn’t know which was more pathetic, that they were so transparent or that they actually believed they weren’t?

“We are on a planet in the most remote outer reaches of space, that with Earth’s rudimentary jumping technology, would take generations for your people to reach by ship, without any detours or delays.”

Blake looked down at the sleigh beneath him and then around the large hangar full of cargo. “So, the natives here trade with their imaginary friends?”

Okay, perhaps he was a little cranky and too sore to muster the pretense of civility. He’d just spent the better part of three weeks on a dust-filled planet with little oxygen, a slight hangover and a nagging libido he hadn’t been able to slake, only to end up on a potentially volcanic planet full of spear-wielding NT’s and not so non-hostile Meylosians. He wasn’t a frigging android. The unexpected jab served its purpose, at any rate, causing Mr. Arrogant to pause in the middle of his “I’m an evil villain” monologue and lean right into Blake’s face.

Blake leaned back just as slowly, to keep the distance between them the same at all times and never broke eye-contact. Johansen was directly behind him, so Blake used the exaggerated motion to distract the birdbrain from the fact that he was grabbing the fixall laser tool out of Johansen’s AABV. He shoved it up his sleeve, because he knew they’d be stripped of their vests once they got to wherever they were going. He wasn’t about to get imprisoned without a Plan B.

“Your kind has always been so crude, so unrefined. It’s a cosmic wonder you ever made it out of your caves, let alone your planet’s atmosphere,” the Meylosian sneered. Maybe. It was really hard to tell.

“At least we don’t look like we still belong in them,” Blake remarked.

“If you must know, the beings that trade in this region of space are so far beyond your scope of perceived intellect and grandeur, that the chance of your kind ever meeting them redefines the meaning of ‘worst odds’,” he continued, talking right over Blake’s insult. “Elite races from these most advanced civilizations would never bother making contact with any of the insignificant star-systems you know of.”

“I know of yours,” Blake smiled coolly. “And I’d like to see how you plan to explain this to the United Federation of Earth’s Intergalactic Alliance.”

“I won’t be explaining anything to anyone,” the Meylos answered. “I’ve never met you or any of your crew and my people know nothing of this planet or what happens here. We are a neutral race with no ties to any alliance or their laws.”

Make that pretentious underhanded bastards!

That was fine, though. They had plenty of those on Earth and Blake knew exactly how to handle them. He’d never had much patience for the sport of manipulation. He’d earned his stripes by being the best without having to kiss anyone’s ass in the process, because both GINESS and the Galactic Bureau of Exploration and Scientific Research liked his results far more than they hated his attitude. That and they knew he could just as easily ditch the regulations and protocol and make a killing on the Galactic Black Market running his own Starblood smuggling operation.

The only reason he didn’t, was because then his crew would be made up of untrustworthy mercs carrying around their own shitty attitudes and a pension for mutiny, while competing with the universe’s worst mobsters. None of which gave a lick about the lives, ecosystems or general planetary stability of other worlds. Blake could be a dick, he even wore the badge with pride most days, but he wasn’t into mass genocide for profit.

“Now, Commander, why don’t you tell me who else you have here on Pralldex with you. Your Captain, undoubtedly,” the Meylosian picked up again. “It’s only a matter of time before we find and capture them all. My cruisers never return empty.”

Blake nearly pointed out that two of his cruisers hadn’t returned at all, but that would only confirm the Meylosian’s suspicions, which he wasn’t about to voluntarily do.

“I’m afraid you caught me on my first solo mission that our captain entrusted me to lead.” He scowled grimly for affect. “Just a small group of scientists trying to find more alien bugs to add to our collection.”

The Meylosian glanced over his shoulder toward the end of the hangar they were rapidly approaching and came very close to smiling, when he looked back to Blake.

“I have a feeling your answer is about to change, Commander,” he said confidently.

Blake spread his hands in an innocent gesture, retaining his bluff. Then the sleigh veered left out of the hangar and right into a docking station full of Nortokian Class B fighter ships. Dread didn’t even begin to cover the sinking weight in the pit of Blake’s gut, because as far as the universe’s worst mobsters went, Nortoks made them all look like fucking amateurs.

©A.C. Melody

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more of this SciFi serial, or if you like a little more fantasy in your alternate worlds, check out Thief of Dragons under The Wicked Web on the menu bar. There’s already 25 episodes available and counting! 🙂

Sensual Sentient ♥ Episode 6


image source: Roleplayer guild


Blake was right behind her, when Sida shoved off the ground and raced back down the ferny slope toward camp. They could hear Ketha’s voice cutting through the melee, shouting orders in between shots fired. Night abruptly turned into day when the patrol cruiser crested the ridge right behind them, forcing them to hit the ground again. Sida lost her footing in the process and slid downhill on her ass, before tumbling into somersaults. Mid-roll, Blake lifted her from the ground and tossed her further ahead. With a startled, winded grunt, she glanced over her shoulder to see a proton net hit the ground where she’d just been and disperse.

“Thanks.” She managed, when he grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the race beside him. Her head was spinning from the continuous momentum, but her vision was clear as ever. “That’s a Meylosian cruiser!”

“Noticed,” he shouted over the propulsion system and thrusters hitting the jungle with the force of a tropical storm. Leaves and vines thrashed all around them, kicking up tiny whirlwinds of debris. “I thought they were neutral?”

“So did I!” she hollered back, as they dodged another net. They both saw something big and dark race through the underbrush up ahead. “What was that?”

“Not a Meylosian.”

“It looked humanoid,” Sida observed.

“Less science, more running for your life!” Blake shot, tossing her earlier command back in her face.

Two more creatures passed them, running in the opposite direction, surefooted and extraordinarily fast through the jungle. Right toward the cruiser. Their leaping grace could’ve belonged to a gazelle or jungle cat, but they were definitely humanoid.


Sida was tackled to the ground, as Blake covered her and another net flew right over their bodies to disperse on a tree.

“Sonofabitch!” she snarled, lunging to her feet as soon as she was able, and forcing her legs to work even faster than before.

Another creature charged out of the trees right before them. That close, there was no mistaking the long poleaxe in its hand; just as black as the rest of it and glinting as menacingly as its red, reflective eyes. The NT appeared male and had to be no less than seven-feet tall, wearing some kind of head-to-toe body armor that looked more like a second skin. At the sight of them, its lips peeled back in a dangerous growl. Sida lifted her rifle, but it merely darted around them like an agile deer. In the next instant, they witnessed all of the NTs use the trees to ricochet jump high into the air and land atop the cruiser in a matter of seconds. Their saber-tipped spears cut right through the hull of the ship like it was made out of paper.

“Sida, run!” Blake yelled in panic, when the cruiser tilted drastically and headed into a nosedive right toward the forest floor. The thickness of the treetops and vines kept it from impacting as explosively as they’d both been fearing, but it still shook the entire planet it seemed. “Don’t stop, I think there’s more!”

Without the one to slow them down, it was only a matter of seconds before Sida finally surged through the last bit of jungle and into their small camp. She nearly collided with another NT and three of her own people trying to run out of the camp–and by the time she realized why, it was too late. A neon blue net was flying right for them and she’d put herself directly in its path. Strong hands shoved her sideways from behind, sending her flying to the ground so hard, she skidded on her stomach. Sucking in a sharp breath, she rolled onto her side and scrambled off the ground to stop what was about to happen, only to watch the net wrap around the entire group all at once–including the one who’d just saved her ass.

“BLAKE!” she screamed in horror to see him and three more of her crew getting hauled away in the net. She ran after them, screaming like it would change anything. “Blake! Johansen! No, no, NO!”

There was a third cruiser that both her team and the NTs were working together on battling, but Sida dodged them, still chasing the one carrying a net full of her people away. Switching her rifle to max reserves, she was racing on pure adrenaline. The multitude of injuries and fiery burn of exertion in her muscles were numbed by it. When she finally had a clear shot, she stopped, aimed and curled her finger over the trigger. The cruiser cleared the ledge, soaring over the valley and putting the captives at immediate risk of death from the fall if she took the shot.

“Dammit, DAMMIT!” she raged.

Sida watched helplessly as her people grew more and more distant through the scope of her rifle, and the guilt that instantly swamped her was intense. One of the NTs leaped right in front of her like a solid wall of black. He growled threateningly, because one of his own was also in the net and he obviously believed she was still planning to take the shot. Sida gave two shits about his reasons. Frustrated, fighting tears and racked with guilt, she growled in outrage right back at him. The alien jerked upright and its animal-like eyes widened as if startled.


Keeping her weapon aimed at the NT, Sida slowly backed away from it, toward Ketha’s voice.

“Are you hurt?” she asked the Lieutenant.

“My leg,” Ketha admitted, limping to her. “I think I fractured it. Why are the Meylos attacking?”

“I don’t know, but–”

Sida’s words faltered when the NT she’d just had a growling match with started advancing on them and as he did, the black armor that covered him began to disappear. Underneath was a very humanoid male with dark golden skin, slightly pointed ears and long hair of jet black wearing nothing more than a dark, calf-length sarong. The only thing that didn’t change were his eyes, remaining the same orange-red hue that reflected the light like a felines. In that moment, Sida may have believed that Egyptian gods were real, because she was staring right at one.

“Captain.” Another familiar voice called out.

Sida pivoted to see Ensigns Darling and McConnell being led into the area at the spear points of more NTs who were still covered in all black. It had to be some kind of bio-armor encoded in their DNA, a natural defense triggered by a chemical reaction whenever they sensed danger or fear. A sort of retractable exoskeleton possibly made out of a form of keratin. But where did it retract to, their pores? The scientist in her was practically frothing at the mouth.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a fourth NT stalk around the others and head right for the unarmored one. He asked Goldy a question and the fact that Sida’s translator didn’t kick on, meant it was an alien language Earth hadn’t discovered yet. Goldy answered while gesturing at Sida and Ketha, so the other stepped toward them, his armor also receding to reveal the flesh underneath. Sida wished she could watch the process under a high-powered microscope. Her eyes tried so hard to narrow in on the action, but it was too damn dark. Then she peered into his face and immediately took a step back, lifting her rifle again, because he was more. So much more than the other one.

His features were ten times more delicious, his mouth alone triggered an insane amount of fantasies to race through her mind. Desires she’d never even been aware of, and Sida Marx was not a bashful girl! Without pause, he grabbed the barrel of her rifle and lifted it before she could even hope to get a shot off, holding it upright between them as he towered over her. His eyes drank in every minute detail of her face, as if she were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Then, he reached out and caressed the wild strands of her hair, which had been whipped free of her braid. She’d lost her hat somewhere between dodging nets and NTs, apparently. Even as she jerked her head out of his reach, an enticing musk filled all of Sida’s senses. Her stomach gurgled in hunger and her throat dried from thirst, despite the saliva forming along her tongue with craving.

“De-etto,” he ordered, his voice an aphrodisiac to her ears.

Sida shook her head, not only because she didn’t understand him, but to dislodge the drugging effect he had over her mind.

“De-etto,” he repeated, but this time he touched his fingers to her throat.

Electricity crackled through her, instantly weakening her muscles. Pure, unadulterated lust speared right through her core to flood her thighs. As her entire body heated and grew lax, her brain continued to cloud over, going under a blanket of sensations thicker than the humidity. Her reaction had the NT’s eyes flashing wide and his musk intensified, smothering her. Sida was wrapped up in his strong arm and pulled into his hard body. Need surged through her veins, and she was certain her arousal scented the air, because the NT inhaled deeply as if he could smell it.

Whatever neurons in her brain that were meant to trigger embarrassment, outrage, survival instincts–something–appeared to be malfunctioning, because all she wanted to do was let this alien have his way with her until she forgot her own damn name. But the bastard was doing it on purpose. Using it as a weapon against her. Sida had too much training in psychic and cognitive psychological warfare not to recognize it when it was hitting her full force. Knowing that made it easier for reason to break through the fog and remind her of the very real and frightening situation she was in. Like the fact that part of her crew had just been abducted by Meylosians and the others were either injured or in possible danger from the natives. Sida grabbed onto the insult of his deliberate attack, added it to the frustration, panic and guilt, and prepared to do as much damage as possible.

Fuck diplomacy.

The NT’s eyes swam with the promise of death by pleasure, vowing to give her more than she’d ever dreamed possible and when his gaze dropped to her mouth, she couldn’t escape the full-body shiver. That’s when she swung. He was too humanoid. Too gloriously male and sensually potent. His lush mouth moved closer to hers, their breaths mingling and the sensation went somewhere deeper than it should have. She fought with teeth gritting determination, but her vision still went hazy, even as her knuckles connected with his jaw. The second point of physical contact was like shooting herself with a proton pistol. It fried her brain completely, even while pleasure rippled all the way to her toes.

©A.C. Melody

Hope you enjoyed this new episode and thanks for reading! Again, you can find all episodes of my two current serials under “The Wicked Web” link on the menu above. Stay tuned…