Savage's Recruit

Loki Renard

Description

Take one pretty brat with a defiant streak a mile wide, add a strict military man with a mission to achieve, throw in a handful of missile owning terrorists and what you have is a recipe for a hot bottomed, hard handed romantic spanking thriller.

Being gifted ain't easy. At thirty two, chronic singleton Zora Matthews is quite content with a life of frequent drinks and occasional employment. At least, she thinks she is, in between hangovers and job terminations.

Older, wiser Captain Brett Savage is a serious man with a serious problem. A Bulgarian terrorist cell has a nuclear missile in their possession and it's up to his unit to neutralize the threat. But this is no ordinary mission. To deactivate the missile, they're going to need someone in the room. Someone with a mind like a machine.

The discovery of a little known civilian mathematical genius with just the skill set needed to get the job done gives Savage hope, but when he attempts to retrieve his newest recruit he discovers that Zora isn't your typical nerd. She's used to a life of hard partying and even harder rebellion - and she's none too receptive to the domineering man who walks into her life and tells her he'll be taking over.

Sujets

• Traditional marriage
• Fantasy (disambiguation)
• Opposites Attract
• Deference
• ACTION
• Power play
• Alpha (ethology)
• Obey
• Rule
• Power exchange
• Travel
• Military
• BDSM
• Soldier
• Dark
• Contemporary
• Dominant
• Romance
• Suspense
• Danger
• Bondage et discipline, domination et soumission et sado-masochisme

Informations

• Publié par: Blushing Books Publications
• Date de parution: 04 novembre 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781609688912
• Langue: English

Extrait

Savage’s Recruit
Military Discipline - Book One


Loki Renard
Published by Blushing Books
An Imprint of
ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.
A Virginia Corporation
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901

©2012, 2020
All rights reserved.

No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

Loki Renard
Savage’s Recruit

eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-891-2
Print ISBN: 978-1-64563-487-4
v1

Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.
Contents



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20


Loki Renard

Blushing Books

Blushing Books Newsletter
Chapter 1

B eneath a pile of wrinkled bed linen, something stirred. A pale hand emerged from the pastel hump, followed by a mop of tussled blonde hair. A sound that may or may not have been human started as a rumble from beneath the sheets, culminating in the emergence of a woman who had most certainly seen better days. At that early stage it was impossible to tell if she was even slightly attractive in her natural state. Mascara and lipstick not removed the night before had smeared, clown panda style over her face and her skin took an ashen appearance in the intrusive morning light which glared mercilessly through the windows. The curtains had not been closed the night before. A gushing sound from elsewhere in the apartment indicated that the taps on the bathroom sink had suffered similar neglect.
Zora stretched and rolled over, groaning as she did. Her entire body was wracked with the spasms of a life of iniquity. If it had been possible for her liver to crawl up her throat and strangle her, it would have done so, she was sure. Another evening had passed spent in the tender arms of a bottle of bourbon and the morning brought with it the usual regrets.
Stumbling towards the kitchen clad only in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top, Zora mangled the contents of her lower cupboards looking for aspirin. The coffee maker had done its job and a fresh pot was ready for consumption. She thanked heaven for the small mercies as she fished a chipped mug out of the dish drainer and sloshed a decent amount of the brew into it. A fair amount ended up on the counter top too, but the spillage was not relevant to Zora's interests at that point in time, so she abandoned the pool of steadily cooling coffee and retired to the futon in the lounge to collect her brain.
Switching on the television, she was immediately assailed by an onslaught of fairly bad news. Floods, fires, uprisings, underisings, corruption, bribery, economic collapse. It was all more depressing than reaching into a the bottom of a bag of chips and discovering a cigarette butt and a suspiciously wet napkin. In spite of the general doom and gloom being espoused before her eyes, outside the apartment it was a warm, sunny day. Zora tried to take comfort in that even as a busty blonde with collagen lips did her very best to convince unsuspecting viewers that men with funny hats were desperately trying to kill them.
“Trying to kill us and take our Botox,” Zora muttered, sipping her coffee. “To arms!”
Whilst Zora indulged in the luxury of healthy cynicism, not a hundred miles away the men and women who did battle for her freedom were facing yet another threat.



Deep under rust red rocky outcroppings, a briefing was taking place inside a subterranean compound. It was a top secret location and a very well hidden one, one could have hiked all over it and not known of its existence. It was not located near a military base, nor were there any obvious security checkpoints looming out of the desert where it was buried. All the security needed for the state of the art facility was contained within its very walls and mounted behind impenetrable facades in the mountains.
If one was fortunate enough to be allowed inside, or unfortunate enough to unexpectedly wake up inside as many of the compound's guests often did, one would not have the foggiest idea just how far underground one really was. There were no windows and in the holding areas, fluorescent lights lit the sterile halls permanently, inducing an uncomfortable sense of timelessness. Day and night had no meaning at all in the bowels of the earth. It wasn't all bad however, a great amount of care had been taken to ensure that the areas intended to be inviting were very inviting indeed. In the areas frequented by staffers and those who commanded them there were seventy color palette color carpets spun from the finest New Zealand wool and tasteful light fittings that not only cast aside the native darkness of that subterranean dwelling, but also emitted rays designed to stimulate the production of Vitamin D. No expense had been spared in the construction and outfitting of the unnamed compound, known to those in the loop as Area X, for no economy had been necessary. Those tasked with the challenge of keeping the nation, nay, the world, safe were not required to suffer the ignominy of penny pinching.
In a comfortable office, complete with a large faux window that looked out onto a computer generated meadow, Captain Savage stood at attention, waiting for his superior to brief him. He had already been partially briefed of course, it would have been a shameful waste of his CO's time to come to a briefing without having at least a rudimentary grasp of the situation at hand.
Savage was a tall man, standing at just a hair over 6'3. The rest of his body followed along the super scale nature had set out for him. His shoulders were broad and held perfectly square. His muscular torso tapered to a strong waist and each of his thighs was a sculpted powerful slab, hard as iron. He was past the first bloom of youth, and the second for that matter, but that had not dulled the keen look in his eye, and the slight hint of salt in his short black hair only served to make him look more distinguished than ever. He was a serious man, and that was carved into every line of his face. His eyes were framed by thick, dark brows that naturally tapered to sharp points. They gave him an air of astute observation even when he was at rest. His nose had been broken several times, but the slight wave in the bridge did nothing to soften his appearance. The only concession Mother Nature had made was in his lower lip, which was rather full, perhaps even sensual. The scar that ran from the left side of it down his jaw line only enhanced the softness by way of contrast.
“We're in a hell of a bind Captain Savage.” General Hurtzwald slammed a folder of classified materials down on the glass table top in front of Savage. Picking them up, Savage appeared to give them a brief once over, but being a quick study, he'd already caught the salient points of the mission. A nuclear missile capable of hitting several target rich civilian environments was in the hands of Bulgarian militants. It was imperative that the missile be removed or permanently disabled in some other way as soon as possible. But there was some serious protection around this particular piece of machinery.
“That's some impressive technology,” Savage noted, gazing over the file.
“It's a hunk of deadly junk, but its protected by something that the boys tell me can detect even the smallest electronic signals. If it detects something, it triggers a total shut down, or a premature launch. Kabloey!” Hurtzwald demonstrated the potentially devastating impact of the missile launch by flailing his arms in the air.
Savage nodded impassively, as if the prospect of significant explosions did not bother him in the slightest. “So we won't be bringing any of our own hardware on this mission.”
“Not unless we want to get dead.” Hurtzwald rested against the desk on his fist. “It's a brain twister.”
“Yes it is,” Savage muttered, glancing over the details once more. It would have been so easy if it weren't for the electronic detection system. Surveillance had revealed that the computer hooked up to the system could be overridden with a series of algorithmically generated codes. The Bulgarians carried keys with these codes and entered the correct codes when prompted by the missile's protection system. It was a devilishly simple, but incredibly effective defense. Ordinarily it would have been a simple matter of gaining entry, hooking the enemy machine up to a processor and cracking the protection by brute force. As it was, they had to find some way around the system.
“We fuck this up, it could mean the end of the world as we know it, Savage,” General Hurtzwald growled, crossing his arms over his chest and staring off at the 'window' into what look