Thanks for coming over, you're always welcome. *smiles*
***
“Hold steady. Grip the stock from
below with your left hand. Do not get in the way of the bolt.”
Grogan stepped so close, his hardened manhood prodded Anika’s left
flank. She gritted her teeth, and considered dropping her trigger
finger to reach into her boot for Tara’s knitting needle.
Yes. Hold steady now, Grogan.
“Line your target between the
crosshairs.”
Target in sight. Anika closed
her left eye and peered through the scope with her right at the
life-size outline of a male sketched in soot on an unrolled parchment
scroll tacked to a tree fifty meters away. Focused on the round
smudge, center torso.
Grogan pressed his stiffened manhood
into the crease of her buttocks. “Squeeze…the trigger.”
Anika superimposed her instructor’s
likeness onto the faceless target and discharged the bolt. The string
recoiled with a pop and released the arrow. With satisfying thunk,
it embedded in the target. Lowering her weapon, Anika stepped out of
range of the alpha and strode to examine the result.
Right through the heart.
“Fair. For a female,” Grogan
judged.
She compared her results—dead
center—with Grogan’s. He’d missed the middle completely,
hitting outside the outline. Perhaps the weight of his erection had
unbalanced his shot.
She marched to the starting line with
Grogan dogging her heels, flinging advice as wild as his aim. She
shot better than every male of the Resistance, but walked a
precarious path, awakening each morn to wonder if this would
be the day she would fall prey to her compatriots. To Grogan, who had
singled her out for special training.
But joining the Guerilla Resistance
against Qalin and Artom was preferable to facing what lay outside the
camp. Anika shuddered.
After leaving Marlix’s abode, she’d
roamed the countryside for a week before she’d straggled into the
militia group attempting to defeat Qalin and Artom. Their secret
weapon?
Breeders. No one would suspect a female
of being an armed fighter.
But her instructor saw no reason to
abandon the old use for females. Thus far she’d dodged him, but her
luck and his patience could not last much longer.
“Many females can hit the target, but
few have the strength you do to cock the bowstring. You are the best
female shooter by far,” Grogan conceded, his praise falling short
of recognizing her true ability.
“You have trained enough for one day.
Let us retire to the camp,” Grogan said. “You may bring me the
midday meal.” He peered at the sky. The star of Parseon hovered
overhead, its heat barely reaching the atmosphere to edge the
temperature over freezing. But the chill provided an excuse to layer
on multiple articles of clothing. The inconvenience of removal had
saved her on more than one occasion. Still, a clothing barrier
offered scant protection. Some males—Grogan—viewed
impediments as a challenge.
“I feel as though I need more
practice.” She peered at him from beneath downcast lashes and
slumped her shoulders in a pretense of self-effacement. “May I
please try one more time?”
Usually the number of people milling
around afforded opportunity to avoid or divert him.
But, today, the alphas had formed two
teams and split up, one group hunting for small game, another sent on
reconnaissance. The females had been ordered to forage for whatever
they could find to replenish the dwindling food stores. Only she—by
Grogan’s command—remained in camp.
She jabbed the crossbow nose onto the
ground and stepped on the metal cocking stirrup.
“You have practiced enough for one
day.” Temper edged his voice.
Anika pulled back the bowstring until
it locked, extracted a bolt from the quiver, and slipped it into the
flight groove. Cocked and loaded, the crossbow had to be
fired, for it was too dangerous to leave a loaded weapon lying about.
A bump or a jolt could discharge the projectile. She raised the
crossbow to shoulder height, slipped her finger off the metal guard,
and caressed the trigger.
“Did you hear what I said?”
Grogan’s tone sharpened. “Look at me when I speak to you!”
She snapped a sharp pivot. Through the
scope, the crosshairs formed a perfect X on his chest.
His eyes bulged in alarm, and he
stumbled over his feet.
Even Grogan could not fail to hit a
target at such close range.
“I heard what you said,” Anika
replied before turning to the parchment target and pulling the
trigger. Th-th-thunk! Her bolt landed next to the previous
one. Dead center. Again. She lowered the weapon.
Grogan seized her arm in a bruising
grip and yanked her around to face him. “Never point a loaded
weapon at me! Do you understand?” He shook her.
Anika took stock of her instructor’s
reddening complexion, the slight tremor of his body, the decreased
bulge in his uniform pants. Satisfaction swelled, but she bowed her
head. “I apologize, alpha. When you ordered me to look at you, I
had no thought but to obey.”
Stars exploded under the impact of his
fist.
***
* Buy links for Warrior *
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* Author Links *
Cara Bristol bio
Cara Bristol continues to evolve,
adding new subgenres of erotic romance to her repertoire. She has
written spanking romance, contemporary romance, paranormal, and
science fiction romance. No matter what the genre, one thing remains
constant: her emphasis on character-driven seriously hot erotic
stories with sizzling chemistry between the hero and heroine. Cara
has lived many places in the United States, but currently lives in
Missouri with her husband. She has two grown stepkids. When she’s
not writing, she enjoys reading and traveling.
Thank you, Addy, for hosting me today!
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