Sunday Spotlight - M.A. Church and Night's Fall

Welcome M.A. Church back to Sunday Spotlight! She's sharing her recent release - Night's Fall.

***

Things do go bump in the night.

Running from a tragic loss, worrying over a missing brother, and flustered about dreams he can’t explain, Michael James searches for a peaceful place to call home. A quaint little town on the Florida coast promises to be just what he needs to start a new life. 

Then myth clashes with reality, and Michael’s life is upended. Vampires, werewolves, and other magical paranormals prowl the city of Mystic Bay, his new home. 

And not all of them are friendly.

Clayton Night, a seductive, powerful vampire, desires more than Michael’s blood—he wants Michael for eternity. The mighty 

Clay Night has fallen, but can his love keep Michael safe from an enemy seeking revenge? 

As darkness closes in, Michael has a choice to make—a short mortal life or an eternity of love and danger?

Previously published as Darkness Awaits. This book has been revised and expanded considerably from its original version to alter both characters and plot events to enhance the reader’s enjoyment.

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Michael shivered, scowling at his reluctant shaft. “Come on, come on, come on.” 

Any other time his bladder would’ve been more than happy to oblige him, but since he was in a rush to get back before he missed anything good, the damn thing was being all shy and stuff. Plus, it was freaking cold in there. Why did movie theaters dothat? 

Then the bathroom lights flickered and went out.

Michael, his cock still in his hand, jumped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Fortunately, there was enough light coming underneath the door so he could see somewhat. Why did this shit always—

The hair stood up on the back of Michael’s neck. Shit!He’d experienced that enough lately to know something bad was about to happen. He needed to get out this bathroom, pronto. 

Before he could stuff his cock back in his jeans, cool fingers wrapped around his shaft as another arm banded across his chest. Fuck no.This couldn’t be happening. No way could this be happening again.

“Now, now. I would advise you not to move, my lovely little human.”

Once more he found himself trapped in a steely embrace. Michael’s heart skipped, then pounded violently. This was like that nightmare—a body was pressed close behind, holding him tightly. Only this time the thing had its hand on his cock. His mind shrieked for him to run, but his feet were stuck to the floor. 

He looked down. A pale hand with black-tipped claws held his dick. Helplessly, Michael shook his head… as if that could wipe away what he was seeing. His breath stuttered in his chest. Fuck if he was going to move. That thing was holding a part of his anatomy he was rather fond of.

Unnaturally cold lips caressed the side of his throat. Revolted, Michael couldn’t stop the whine that climbed up his throat. 

“Time to face facts. This is no dream. Vampires exist, my pretty little human. I am as real as you are.”

He wasn’t dreaming. He knew he wasn’t dreaming, just like he hadn’t been dreaming that night in his condo either. 

“Oh God, oh God.” Michael gawked at the long black claws slowly trailing over his limp dick. “What… what do you want?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” 

A fang brushed his neck, and Michael cringed. 

“I’m tempted to taste you, but no. Not yet. But soon. It won’t be long now, Michael.”

Oh fuck, it knows my name.He’d heard those words before, dammit, but this time they struck fear in his heart. The lights blinked, then came back on. Michael stood at the urinal, staring at his cock. 

“Hey, dude, you okay?”

Michael flinched and jerked his head up. A young guy, maybe a few years younger than him, had entered the restroom and was giving him an odd look. 

Panicked, Michael wildly glanced around. Where was the fucker? The lights were back on and as bright as when he’d entered the restroom. No one stood next to him. The only hand on his cock was his own. He glanced around again. Nope. Still no vampire to be seen—unless the guy stopping next to him was one. For some reason he didn’t think so.

“Dude?”

“Huh?” Michael asked, dragging his attention back to the person speaking to him.

The guy nodded toward him. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been stand there holding yourself and doing nothing for a minute or so.”

Oh good Lord, he had? 

“Do I need to go get help or something?”

Help? Ha! Unless the stranger had a vat of holy water, he didn’t think so. Would that even work?

Speaking of water… a stream of urine suddenly splashed into the urinal. Oh-kay. Nice of his bladder to finally get with the program.

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Sunday Spotlight -- M.A. Church & Dragon's Hoard

Welcome M.A. Church back to Sunday Spotlight!  She's sharing a bit from her new release, Dragon’s Hoard

To be loved by a dragon is to be treasured.

A hundred years ago, werewolf Alpha Montgomery took a risk driven by desperation—he borrowed money from the ancient dragon Warwick Ehecatl, putting up the pack lands as collateral. Now the debt is due, and dragons don’t forget—or forgive. Warwick demands Montgomery’s son, Avery, and three businesses as compensation. As an Omega, Avery knows he is basically useless to his pack, so he might as well agree. He soon has second thoughts, though. Warwick is fearsome, and he’s free to do as he likes with Avery.

Warwick knows his race’s reputation, and he even admits some of it is deserved. But he’d rather cut off his tail than let his innocent mate’s light go out. It won’t be easy, but buried deep, there’s something between them worth safeguarding.

Cover Artist: Aaron Anderson

House Line Dreamspun Beyond | #5

Genres: Urban Fantasy / Werewolves/Shapeshifters

BUY LINKS

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Excerpt:

THE SUBTLE lighting in the office in his house cast long shadows that danced across the room. Burning wood popped and hissed in the fireplace, the scent bringing back memories from yesteryear. Restless, Warwick shoved back from his monstrosity of a desk.

The warmth of the fire beckoned, and seeing no reason to deny himself, he strode across the floor. As he drew nearer, the heat wrapped around his body, and he sighed. Bending, he held his hands out toward the crackling fire. Once his fingers warmed, he straightened and turned.

With his back to the fire, he carelessly brushed a long strand of hair behind his ear. He’d opened the blinds when he’d entered his office in a hopeless bid for daylight, not that it did much good. Good thing his eyesight was better than a human’s.

The day was dreary, rainy, and overcast. He hated this time of the year. No matter how many layers of clothes he wore, the endless chill seeped in. He much preferred heat and humidity, sunny skies and warmth. His kind detested the cold.

Still staring out of the ground floor window, he took notice of the foot traffic on the street, darting here and there like worker bees. Paranormals mixed with humans—there was no hiding now. As with anything else, there were those who thought the species should be separated and those who didn’t. Werewolves had made their presence known sometime in the 1700s. Other paranormal beings had come out not long after.

Once the panic had died down, humans responded fairly well. For the most part, anyhow. There were still squabbles, of course. Humans didn’t seem to know how to do anything else. Fortunately they tended to leave paranormals alone. More often than not, they were too busy fighting among themselves.

What the humans were calling the Great War was in full swing. Warwick brushed a microscopic piece of fuzz from his shirt, shaking his head. Humans and their wars. Would they never learn? But there was no denying it afforded him the opportunity to invest in their conflicts, and dragons never passed up an opportunity to add to their hoard.

A soft knock at his office door drew his attention. He inhaled, and the scent of hair cream, freshly pressed clothes, and human teased his senses.

“Enter,” Warwick called.

Clarence Wiltshire, his clerk, opened the office door. He started toward the desk but paused when he saw no one sat behind it. Confident of where he would find his boss, he glanced at the fireplace. “Sir, there’s an Alpha Theodore Montgomery of the Sunset Creek Pack here to see you.”

Warwick pursed his lips. “Interesting.”

“I’ll say, sir.” Clarence bobbed his head. “It must be catastrophic to send an Alpha werewolf to your doorstep.”

“Only one way to find out.” As much as he hated leaving the roaring fire, Warwick crossed the floor, his footsteps muffled by the oriental rugs, and returned to his desk. “Give it twenty minutes, then escort him back. Also make sure to offer him a beverage while he waits.”

“He’s not going to like having to wait, sir.”

“I’m well aware.” Warwick picked up his absurdly expensive tailored suit coat and slipped it on. “That’s the point.”

“Yes, sir.” Clarence smirked, then wiped any emotions off his face, going back to the usual pleasant blankness he showed prospective clients. “Twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.” Warwick settled into his comfortable desk chair. This was no casual meeting. He intended to throw the Alpha off-balance by having him wait, but the ploy would also show exactly who held the power in the room.

Twenty minutes later to the second, his efficient assistant escorted Alpha Montgomery inside. Warwick stood and acknowledged the Alpha with a slight bob of his head. There was no need for him to bare his throat since he wasn’t another werewolf, not that he would anyhow. Dragons were at the top of the shifter food chain. Nor did he offer his hand. Werewolves tended to be snarly about who touched them without permission, the silly creatures.

Alpha Montgomery acknowledged the greeting and returned it, although his head bob was much more grandiose.

“Alpha Theodore Montgomery of the Sunset Creek Pack, I bid you welcome. Please, join me.”

“Thank you.” Alpha Montgomery crossed the room, his gait hurried. “I appreciate you seeing me without the courtesy of having an appointment.”

“Yes, well, circumstances are usually dire when people come to me, and often they don’t have time to make one. Have a seat.” Warwick gestured at the plush wine-colored leather chairs in front of his desk. He made a point of standing. Warwick would not sit first. Having another paranormal look up to him was another way to reinforce who was more commanding.

Alpha Montgomery gritted his teeth. Ah yes, there was nothing better than power games first thing in the morning.

As the struggle for control continued, Warwick took note of his visitor. Like most werewolves, the Alpha was a large male with muscles. Unless the wolf was an Omega, they were also hairy, above average in height, and had dark hair and eyes.

Warwick ensured his features remained blank, even as he smirked inside. Compared with a werewolf, he was not only shorter, but less muscled. While the werewolf was bulky, Warwick was lean and mean. The only thing he and the Alpha had in common was the dark hair Warwick also wore long.

“Thank you.” Alpha Montgomery lowered himself into one of the seats.

“Now, please, tell me how I may be of service.” Satisfied his point had been made, Warwick sat behind his desk. Just because the atmosphere was tense didn’t mean manners had to be left outside the door.

“I need a loan.”

“Most people do when they come to me.” Precise and to the point. He liked that. Warwick opened a desk drawer and withdrew several forms. “How much?”

Alpha Montgomery quoted a sum, and Warwick lifted a shapely eyebrow. Surprising a dragon wasn’t easy.

“I see.” He pushed the sheets of paper across the desk. “The forms are standard. Fill them out so I have an idea of what you plan to put up as collateral for such a massive loan.”

“Collateral.” Alpha Montgomery tugged at his collar in what Warwick assumed was an effort to loosen the suffocating restriction from his tie. “I, ah, was hoping not to put anything up.”

Warwick swallowed the laugh bubbling up. “And I was hoping to spend this winter on a warm, sunny beach—neither of which is going to happen, unfortunately. If you want the loan, you put up collateral. That’s the only way I do business.”

Alpha Montgomery scowled. “Do you know who I am? The connections I have? The fact that my pack is one of the largest around, that should be sufficient.”

“It isn’t.” Warwick coolly gazed across the desk. “Alpha, you need the money. I have it to give. Paranormals only come to me as a last resort, so I’m sure you’ve tried to obtain the currency elsewhere. Am I right?”

Alpha Montgomery didn’t speak, but his scowl said enough. So did the sudden spike in tension. The acidic scent of bone-deep worry filled Warwick’s nostrils. He struggled to suppress the sneeze that threatened.

“I thought so. If I loan you the money, you will put up collateral,” Warwick continued. Arrogant werewolf. Did the Alpha really think Warwick would loan him the sum he quoted with nothing more than his signature? “And from the amount you requested, I’m going to demand every property you own.”

“You can’t do that!” Alpha Montgomery’s claws peeked out as he gripped the chair arms. “If I default—”

“I’ll take everything you own, kick your pack off your land, and sell it to recoup my losses.” Warwick shrugged. “That’s the price of doing business, my dear Alpha. Take the money or not. It matters not to me.”

Alpha Montgomery growled softly. “You really are a cold-blooded bastard, aren’t you?”

Warwick faced the Alpha. His eyes shifted into a brilliant purple, the color of his dragon, with a slitted black pupil. Scrollwork, only slightly lighter than the purple of his eyes, appeared upon his eyelids and right below his eyes. His fangs, which appeared normal in human form, lengthened. His fingernails grew to deadly sharp claws as he partially shifted. “Indeed I am.” Menace, deep and thick, vibrated in his voice. “Something you may wish to keep in mind, considering I can snap your neck with little to no thought.” Warwick unleashed his power, which seeped through the room, blanketing everything. A smothered gasp came from the outer office where Clarence’s desk was located. It wasn’t the first time his assistant experienced such, and no doubt would not be the last.

Alpha Montgomery straightened in his chair and snarled as his own power rose to meet Warwick’s. Sweat beaded and rolled down the Alpha’s face. The flames in the lanterns flickered, and the air shimmered. But as quickly as Alpha Montgomery’s power rose, it dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. The Alpha collapsed back in the chair, pale and shivering.

“By all the wolf gods,” Alpha Montgomery whispered, horror finely etched upon his features.

Warwick, still composed as ever, finally allowed the smirk that had been lurking to cross his face. “That was unwise, Alpha. You may be powerful, but you’re nothing compared to me. I was centuries old before you were ever born. Test me again and the next time, you won’t walk out of here on your own two feet.”

Alpha Montgomery gulped.

“Now, are you filling out those papers or are you leaving my office empty-handed?”

“F-filling out the papers.” Fear rolled off the Alpha werewolf.

“Excellent.” Warwick leaned back in his chair and returned to his wholly human form, pleased he’d made his point. “Now, make sure to fill out the paperwork fully, please.”

Oh yes, today was going to be a good day.

Guest Author - M.A. Church

Happy New Year!

My first guest author spotlight of 2017 is M.A. Church as she shares a little about In Enemy Hands.

Two very different civilizations—one bathed in bright sunlight, and the other veiled in shadow.

Bad decisions, declining resources, and a king on the brink of madness force Prince Varo Kutchif, third son of the royal family and a starship captain, to attempt the impossible: barter for Black Phospolrock, an energy source the mysterious Helkan kingdom has in abundance. Varo opens a line of communication with Adlar, an intriguing Helkan who seems to reciprocate Varo’s interest. He hopes so, because if negotiations collapse, Varo has orders to attack.

The Helkans preside over a planet shrouded in perpetual darkness. Several species have tried to exploit its natural resources through trade with them, but all have failed. Adlar Mondur is the older brother to the Helkan ruler. An assassin of the highest order, he’ll do anything to protect his king and his people—including tracking down the Yesri prince who crash-lands on their planet, leaving an ugly scar across its untouched beauty.

Thus begins a journey where two men from disparate civilizations grow from enemies to lovers.

DsP: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/in-enemy-hands-by-ma-church-7942-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Enemy-Hands-M-Church-ebook/dp/B01MSXOUMK

Chapter One

“Stars-cursed planet.”

Snarling, Varo paced in his private bridge office. Jerking his luxurious cowlarium-hide desk chair around, he flopped down. Long white-blond hair fell over his shoulder. Irritated, he shoved it out of the way. He should’ve braided it this morning, but he’d gotten up late.

He rested his chin on his knuckles and stared out the port window into the unrelieved darkness that was space, scowling. Planet Helkan was his focus—with its permanent swirling cloud cover that more times than not denied their in-depth scans.

Its classification was that of a Darkrealm planet. Thanks to the cloud cover playing peekaboo, only filtured light got through. As such, its ecosystem either didn’t require much sunlight to live, or its fauna created its own photosynthesize non-visible light. No one knew much about the planet’s race since they didn’t travel off-planet much. The ones who did were said to be reserved, unfriendly, and uncommunicative. Cold, even.

Varo picked up a report from his desk and scanned it once more. The description of the inhabitants as cold seemed appropriate. His reports said they were a tall, pale-skinned people with long black hair, pointed ears, slit pupiled eyes, and excellent night vision.

Many of their cities were believed to either be located underground or built into cliff faces. Even though their technology was superior, that didn’t mean they weren’t barbaric and ruthless. Animals, really.

There were also rumors others had attacked the planet at one point long ago. It was believed to be for the Black Phospolrock crystals. That prompted the Helkans to protect themselves in the form of a planetary grid.

The Satellite Surveillance Network, or SSN, was a system of closely linked satellites that circled the planet. They formed a grid around Helkan. Beams of energy linked the satellites together. They incorporated their own shields so asteroids wouldn’t destroy them, but neither could a starship’s weapons system.

Others had tried in the past. When ships encountered the grid, the main computers shorted out, leaving the crippled vessels to crash-land on the planet. No one had any idea what became of the survivors.

When ambassadors from other planets tried to open talks about prisoners, the Helkans made it painfully clear they didn’t release hostages. Questions arose. Were they being treated humanely? Being taken care of? Were they given basic necessities like food, water, and shelter? Were they being tortured? Enslaved? If so, what did that slavery entail?

More disturbing was the gossip Helkans had fangs and drank blood. As a race they had a terrible reputation, but they were reputed to be gorgeous monsters. Common sense said to avoid them since they were dangerous and existed solely on the fringe of society, but common sense often failed when greed was factored in.

The whispered rumors they took prisoners and used them as a food source only increased other societies’ repulsion and curiosity. Varo shivered. Who knew what was true? Many reviled—and feared—the Helkans even as they tried to bargain with them. The fact they didn’t leave their planet often didn’t help the gossip about them either.

When certain leaderships, like his father’s, became aggressive in their tactics, the Helkans closed their planet borders and refused outsiders the right to enter their space. How his father thought he could broker anything with a species as uncivilized as this one was beyond him. He’d been set up to fail, but failure was not an option. It did not pay to have His Royal Majesty discontented. The blood-soaked floors of his dungeons proved that.

But that wasn’t what was most disconcerting. His orders—straight from the king himself—were to attack if no agreement could be reached. His targets were King Omori Mondur and his brother, Adlar Mondur.

The very idea turned his stomach. While he was willing to die in the line of duty, murder was something completely different. If he attacked it would be considered an act of war. Lives would be lost—possibly his own. And over what? A stupid rock.

But what could he do? His father made it perfectly clear he considered him dispensable. If he didn’t follow orders, His Royal Highness had been clear: his crew would suffer for his disobedience.

He had a choice: murdering beings based on nothing more than their unwillingness to share their riches—and in the process, possibly forfeiting his own life along with his crew’s—or facing the insanity that masqueraded as his father’s rule.

His Royal Highness’s plan was to disrupt the planetary government of Helkan with the murders of the king and his brother… then the Yesri would invade. The few advisors brave enough to point out the various flaws in the plan had been relieved of their duties—permanently. His father brooked no disagreement. Varo was doomed. If the Helkans didn’t kill him, then his father most assuredly would. After all, his father had an heir and a spare; he didn’t need Varo.

He checked his comm. After making a pest of himself, he’d managed to attract the Helkans’ attention. He’d sent numerous hails requesting an audience with the king. Finally he received a message back informing him he would be granted an opportunity to speak.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. This was it. One way or the other. Releasing the breath, he composed his demeanor, sat at his desk, and had the incoming message transferred to the on-screen viewer. The blurred images jumped and hissed across the screen and then cleared.

And every thought he had flew out of his head.

The breath froze in Varo’s chest as he stared. There on the screen was the most gorgeous creature Varo had ever laid eyes on. Long, glossy black hair cascaded over his shoulders and disappeared from sight.

A narrow face that was hauntingly beautiful peered back at Varo. Full lips that tilted up in a slight smirk drew Varo’s attention. A tingle raced up Varo’s spine and nailed him in the back of the head. Varo was suddenly achingly hard and more than a little horrified by his response.

But the otherworldliness of the face on screen was nothing compared to the eyes, the striking yellow eyes that studied and cataloged Varo too. The tremble that threatened to shake Varo’s frame caught him off guard. The look in that gaze was a mixture of scorching heat and frosty coolness—a predator who had Varo in his sights. The danger he felt flamed his body.

“Captain Varo of Yesri, I am Adlar. How may I be of service?”

The soft taunting voice and the hint of fang he saw snapped him out of his momentary distraction. Gathering his tattered dignity around him, he lifted his chin. “Greetings from His Royal Highness King Drea Kutchif, supreme ruler of the planet Yesri. I have been tasked with the mission of approaching your king concerning a possible agreement about obtaining rights to Black Phospolrock. Would it be possible to me to speak with King Omori?”

Varo held his breath. Was this Adlar the king’s brother? Was that why he did not offer a last name? And if Adlar was royalty, why would he not announce himself as such? How… odd.

“Unfortunately no. A small emergency cropped up and King Omori was detained. I would ask that in his stead, you deal with me. Tell me of this proposal you come bearing.”

It was not what he hoped for, but it was better than nothing. As Varo recited the terms and stipulations, he wished desperately he could remove his uniform jacket. He knew perfectly well his office was climate controlled, but sweat was trickling down the small of his back, distracting him. His dry mouth certainly did not help his attempts to sound articulate. Stars, he hadn’t sweated like this since he was a cadet.

As he rattled off the terms, he fought the urge to squirm. Adlar’s gaze unnerved him… and excited him. The brief glimpses of fangs were horrifyingly erotic, and a complete bewilderment as to why that affected him. For once he was thankful the screen only showed him from the waist up.

Instinct told him Adlar would not only notice his arousal, but use it to his advantage. That was unacceptable. His voice roughened as he spoke. The situation infuriated him. He refused to let a certain part of his anatomy lead him around, even if his body had suddenly decided Adlar was the soon-to-be star of his fantasies.

“I will speak with King Omori and bring your proposal to him. I’m sure he will have questions. May I contact you?”

Varo couldn’t believe it. Of all the possible outcomes he envisioned, this was certainly not one. From all the things they’d heard about the Helkans, this reasonable response was confounding.

“I would very much like to speak with you again,” Varo said. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to come here and speak face-to-face, would you?”

“I’m afraid not. But thank you for the invitation.”

Varo started to offer him assurances of his safety, but paused. If this Adlar was indeed related to the king, then he couldn’t in good faith do that. Stars knew if his king found out he had the brother of the Helkan king on his ship and didn’t take him prisoner… it didn’t bear thinking about.

“I see. That’s too bad.” He refused to admit even to himself how badly he’d like to meet Adlar face-to face. “Please use this secured subspace frequency again for any questions you may have. And I thank you for your willingness to share my king’s words with yours.”

“It was my pleasure.” Adlar nodded and then signed off.

As soon as the screen went black, Varo stripped off his warm jacket and dropped it on the small couch in his office. After ordering up a glass of cool, fresh water, he released the tight hold on his body and slumped on the couch next to his jacket.

Well, that short conversation had been a fountain of knowledge. The Helkans were not as obtuse as first thought. At least he hoped. He also learned the mental image he’d had of them as tall and wraith-thin monsters was also false. Inconceivably false, as his hard cock could testify.

He glanced down at his dick, which was just now deflating. Why in the two moons of Helkan had his libido decided now to make itself known? And toward this race? He scrubbed his hands over his face. It was a fluke, nothing more. Lack of sleep and stress had finally gotten the better of him. That was all.

It had to be.

Several unit hours passed as he tried to distract himself. He checked over crew schedules and read through several status reports on various parts of his ship. He okayed an accident report, several requests for transfers to different ship departments needed to be read over and decided upon, and a note from the ship’s doctor that he was due for medical checkup he could attend to either here or on planet once they were back in port.

The day passed slowly, even though he tried to keep his mind occupied with the daily happenings aboard the ship. By the time end of shift came, he was climbing the walls. He wanted to hear Adlar’s voice again. Maybe he needed to have his head examined when it came time for his medical checkup.

Just as he was getting ready to leave his private office on the bridge, his comm signaled an incoming message. His heart pounded. This was past becoming ridiculous. The readout showed it was from Adlar. His heart rate increased as he transferred the message from his comm to his viewing screen.

Then it dropped as he struggled to keep the disappointment from his face when the image on the screen was not who he expected. Instead it was King Omori. That was good. Very, very good. Maybe if he said it enough, he could convince himself of that.

He quickly explained the reason for his mission and outlined the plan his king had given him.

King Omori held up his hand and halted the conversation. “There seems to be some misunderstanding. We do not grant mining rights. Ever. The one time we allowed another race to come on planet and mine, the results were disastrous.”

“But I outlined a plan to your spokesman, Adlar. We would only use as many miners as needed, use equipment that you sanctioned, and are willing to be supervised. It’s a very generous package.”

“I am not sure if Adlar understood you were talking about mining rights. From what he told me, you were talking about the rights to Black Phospolrock. I assumed you meant you wanted to speak about an exclusive import agreement with us concerning the crystal.”

“I… I….” Varo replayed the earlier conversation and was mortified to see he hadn’t specified mining rights. Was he so bedazzled by Adlar that he was careless in his negotiations? What had he done? “I apologize for not clarifying my intent. If it would be at all possible—”

“Captain Varo, while I believe the sincerity of your proposal, I’m afraid the proposal isn’t possible. As I stated, we do not allow anybody on planet. At this point I’m also not convinced selling the Black Phospolrock is worth the headache it would entail.”

“Your Majesty, please, if we could just—”

“If we supplied one race, we would be opening ourselves up to sharing with many races. Which eventually would lead to having to deal with others coming on planet.”

Varo couldn’t believe this was happening. “But—”

“Eventually that’s going to lead to problems. It always does. One race is going to feel another race is getting more than their fair share, or is getting a better deal, or will have some complaint that, no matter how invalid it is, will blow up into a disagreement.”

“Maybe not! We could supply guards to help control—”

“That’s the last thing we want,” King Omori said. “Not to mention every time we send the shipment out, we would have to lower our planetary defenses, which opens up avenues for unscrupulous people to attack. I’m sorry, Captain Varo. The answer is no.”

Oh goddess. He actually thought he was going to be able to negotiate this trade agreement, and now it was falling all the pieces. That left him with one option, an option he truly detested.

“I also would ask that you leave our airspace immediately.”

M.A. Church is a true Southern belle who spent many years in the elementary education sector. Now she spends her days lost in fantasy worlds, arguing with hardheaded aliens on far-off planets, herding her numerous shifters, or trying to tempt her country boys away from their fishing poles.

Check out more about M.A.Church on Facebook, Twitter, or her Blog.