The Assassin and the Soldier


160 pages
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Has she finally met her match?

During a time of political unrest, convicted assassin Kaelia gets a chance to win back her freedom on a reality TV show competition. Released temporarily from prison, the twenty-two-year-old is given fancy digs in a hotel and her very own personal trainer, Callan.

But Kaelia is harboring a secret: she isn’t like other people. Spliced with the DNA of some of the most predatory animals on the planet, Kaelia was grown in a lab as an embryo and possesses heightened strengths and abilities. She’s confident she will win the competition and can do so without the likes of Callan Merone ‘training’ her.

But Callan, an ex-soldier for the totalitarian political party that imprisoned her, happens to have the very same secret. Eventually fed up with Kaelia’s arrogance and devil-may-care attitude, he turns her over his knee. For the first time in her life, Kaelia realizes there is someone in the world who can overpower her – and the idea is more arousing than she ever thought it could be.

Publisher’s Note: This steamy dystopian romance contains elements of action, adventure, mystery, suspense, and power exchange.



Publié par
Date de parution 19 octobre 2019
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781948140607
Langue English

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“Stop, stop!” she cried at last, and her hands flew Dack to cover her hot Dottom, the Dacks of them crisscrossed over one another across the center, forcing him to pause her spanking. “When will it stop?” Suddenly he recalled what she had asked him earlier regarding the duration of her spanking, feeling immensely satisfied. Instead of t he Dratty tone she had taken Defore, this time, her words echoed with pleading forlorn d esperation. Callan had a very strong hunch she’d never felt so overpowered and humiliate d Defore in her life. He wondered if she’d had enough, after all, a wavering heat rose o ff her Dottom and it was oDviously tender to the touch. But no. This was the part when her lesson would really Degin. Gathering her wrists in one of his hands, so incomp rehensiDly large in comparison to her own delicate fingers and slender palms, he t ucked them Doth away Detween his Delly and her side, holding them there. Then he rep ositioned her, as she had flopped around quite a Dit during her struggle to escape he r spanking. Clutching her around her tiny waist, he propped her up on one leg while he c lamped the other one down over her thighs, feeling her whole Dody tense in response. T hen he lifted her Dottom up higher, so that the rest of her hung at an even more severe angle, and Dent low over her Dack to speak. “It will stop when you learn how to De a good girl, ” he said, his voice low and nearly taunting. His fingers grazed over her Dottom, so ve ry flushed and warm with heat, and then found them hovering over the hem of her pantie s again. Oh, modesty De damned, after the way she had acted, she very much deserved this spanking on the Dare. With one swift tug, he whisked those panties down over h er plump cheeks, leaving them to Dunch into the crevice around her thighs. Her whole Dody Dristled as Callan took in the wonde rful sight of her wholly naked ass, admiring the color he’d put on there with new appreciation. Her Dare cheeks clenched and relaxed, driving him crazy with a desi re he’d never truly known Defore. Suddenly, he couldn’t control the vision of his pen is, hard and fully erect, plunging deep in-Detween those two, quivering cheeks. Callan coul d just Darely see the soft lips of her vulva, slick and glittering with moisture. His Drea thing quickened and he was pretty sure he felt hers do the same. “No,” she started to say, her voice Darely a squeak , Dut Callan cut her off as he smashed his hand down over her pink, swollen cheeks , distracting himself from where his mind was attempting to go. He spanked her as if he were hammering a post into the ground, alternating his smacks to cover her whole, jiggly Dackside, and then concentrating on one spot for several moments to re ally drive the lesson in, listening as
her cries intensified during those intervals. The p ink shade very quickly gave away to a muddled maroon, and Kaelia wailed long, guttural, p iteous sounds of remorse.
Published by Blushing Books An Imprint of ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc. A Virginia Corporation 977 Seminole Trail #233 Charlottesville, VA 22901
©2019 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.
Carly Morgan The Assassin and the Soldier
EBook ISBN: 978-1-948140-60-7 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.
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 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Carly Morgan Blushing Books
Chapter 1
Kaelia aelia’s eyes opened at the sound of the lock on her cage clanging, harsh K metal against metal, and then the whine of the door swinging open. Why had they come for her, at this hour? With guns pointed at her head they shackled her ankles and cuffed her wrists, and then dragged her down the long, stark hallway of the cell block, her thin slippers doing little to d eflect the cold from the floor seeping up into her bones. She shivered as she was roughly sho ved into the warden’s office, stumbling and tripping, catching herself at the las t moment to confront who’d she’d been brought before. “You’ve been selected.” The warden spoke as he always spoke, as if to nobod y, like she wasn’t there. Kaelia blinked back sleep as her brain tried to catch up t o her body. Selected? Selected for what? Was she being transferred to a different pris on system, given another work assignment? Or worse, perhaps… execution. No, no, n o, Kaelia struggled to slow the rush of adrenaline as she tried to assure herself i t couldn’t be that. The convicts of the Krakian work prisons were almos t never put to death. They didn’t have to be. The atrocious living condit ions and backbreaking labor they were subjected to often killed them quickly enough. After three years of mining in the caves of some isolated undisclosed northern coast, it was a wonder Kaelia was still standing upright, let alone alive. “Selected?” Kaelia dared to venture, searching for some clarification. She eyed the warden and several guards’ electric rods, knowing s peaking out of turn could easily earn her a shock from one. She could dodge it, of c ourse, if she wanted – but that would only stir up more trouble. “The Amity’s People Party’s Competition.” The warde n grunted the words so abruptly Kaelia barely understood them. When her mi nd finally started to register what might be happening, her heart lurched so hard she h ad to swallow it back. Could this be real, or was she dreaming? But, no, she didn’t d ream anymore, not since coming here. It had been nearly a year since she’d been allowed to apply to The Amity’s People Party’s Competition, a reality TV show contest for the world’s most high-profile convicts. The qualifications for entry had been in her favor: no rapists, no child killers, and no one who’d murdered more than two of their own famil y members. A photo and a short bio would be submitted on behalf of each entry, tho ugh Kaelia hadn’t seen what was
sent. Undoubtedly, it had been her mugshot, along w ith her prison stats: Name – Kaelia Elowyn Nemesis, Height – 5 foot 6 inches, Weight – 110 pounds. And conviction – Hit-person-for-hire, professional killing machine, murd eress, cutthroat, assassin. But none of that mattered anymore. She’d been selec ted for a chance to erase those crimes from her name, a chance for her freedo m, a chance for the means to live out the rest of her life in relative peace and simp licity. No, not a chance. Kaelia was going to win this comp etition, because if she didn’t it would mean being sent back here, to the Krakian wor k camps, and that was the last thing she ever planned to do again. Walking back with the guards, Kaelia smiled to hers elf, the expression foreign and strange on her face after three long years of pure hell. When the ensemble reached the hall leading back to her cell, Kaelia continued tha t way, though the guards pivoted her in the opposite direction, one on either side, clut ching her elbows though she was still shackled. They ushered her into an elevator instead , only instead of going down into the caves like she did every day, one of the guards pushed the letter R button,roof. The numbers ticked off agonizingly slow, and Kaelia couldn’t help being nervous about the elevator’s destination. Why the roof? Wer e they going to throw her off it so she couldn’t enter the competition after all? The g uards at Krakian were nobody’s friend, but they possessed a special kind of hatred for Kaelia. She could hear the noise of propellers filling her ears and reverberating through her insides before she saw what was making it. Kaelia’s eyes widened in astonishment as the guards pushed her roughly through the elevator as it opened, jabbing her side, slamming a hand into the small of her back. There w as a helicopter, waiting just for her. Kaelia ground her teeth together and kept straight as she was shoved towards it, refusing to give them the satisfaction of stumbling again. Once they boarded, one of the guards held his gun to her head while the other one unshackled her wrist long enough to cuff her to the metal arm of the seat inside. “How long will the ride be?” Kaelia asked politely, and then forced herself not to flinch, knowing she just risked having the butt of a gun slammed into her jaw. But the guards must have been feeling lazy today, or perhap s they’d been instructed not to harm her. They didn’t answer as they shuffled back to the door of the helicopter, surveying her one last time, perhaps to make sure s he was properly secured. “Don’t get too excited,” one of them grunted as he hovered in the doorway. “You’ll be back.” Shrugging, Kaelia smiled saccharinely at them, and waved her fingertips as daintily as she could, with her wrists shackled to the seat, as a last parting gesture. Then, just before the guards shut the door behind them, she fl ipped her hand around and flashed the middle finger and a smug smirk, enjoying the di sgruntled looks on both their faces as they disappeared from view. From outside the win dow, she could see them trying to get back in, undoubtedly to knock her a couple time s upside the head, but the door apparently locked behind them, the chopper already taking her away.
Callan Merone sat in the very back of the auditoriu m, watching the elimination ceremony of the competing criminals. Today, there w ere 100 of them, but by tomorrow, just the twenty finalists would remain. Most of the m had arrived just yesterday, from work prisons all over the world. Haggard and hungry , if not half-starved, Callan could tell none of them were at their best, disoriented a nd tired from jet lag, though Callan figured that was part of the showrunner’s intention s. He watched a stocky, tattooed man aim a bow and arr ow, and then miss the entire target board. It was his first challenge, and he wa s out immediately. It was no shocker when the man threw the bow down, swearing violently as he stalked off the stage. Contestant No. 57, Callan surveyed the list in fron t of him until he came to the name behind the number – Riddark Hayes, though he was no body now. Callan read the man’s conviction, another rebel soldier and prisone r of war, as the majority of them were. Callan sighed, bored, though many other spectators in the audience sat with rapt attention, for some reason utterly fascinated. But Callan had seen more skill in a little finger from the time he was five years old. This wa s nothing to him. Callan straightened when another one of the few wom en contestants entered the stage, though he controlled his expression to remai n impassive. Lauza LaRue, No. 58. Platinum blonde, big busted, and legs for days, Ms. LaRue had been the center of a drunken conversation among the other trainers in th e bar last night. Despite being a convicted serial killer, who lured her victims into a place of vulnerability by sleeping with them first, several of the trainers were hopin g to be paired with her. But Callan wasn’t interested in Lauza. He wanted someone who h ad a chance at winning, and he didn’t think Lauza was it. Despite Callan’s judgments, Lauza passed her tests well enough, not amazingly by any means, but the judges still deemed her fit enou gh to join the ranks of the final twenty. Callan couldn’t help but think her reputati on, or perhaps her looks, might have had something to do with her passing. Lauza waved t o the audience as she walked off to stand with the other finalists, obviously please d with herself, though her victory was met with mixed results. Many booed and hissed, thou gh some clapped politely, and a few men catcalled. Callan frowned at the clappers. These were criminals, after all. Celebrating them seemed inappropriate. Callan suppressed a yawn on the back of his hand as he counted down the names on his list. Forty contestants left, with fifteen s elected so far. The lucky fifteen stood in a booth to one side of the auditorium, uncuffed, wear ing normal street clothes, and most of them scrubbed somewhat clean. A few of them had been easy picks for finalists, like the rogue, brutish Elgren Farrow, another rebel sol dier, who had aced all the tests with an arrogant ease, or the mountainous Grady Lair, wh o was the size of a small bulldozer with the same stamina. Others took him by surprise, like the tiny, pixie-like Indigo Steele, a convicted cat burglar who’d stolen millio ns of dollars of priceless artifacts and paintings. After contestant No. 65, Callan was ready for this whole thing to be over. It had gone on for almost two hours already, with no intermissi on or breaks. Why had he signed up to be the personal trainer of some dishonored, lowl ife, criminal again? Oh, right… cash. Not only would Callan receive a hefty salary for tr aining his, er, client during the competition, but there’d be prize money in it for h im if his contestant won. It wouldn’t be
a life changing amount or anything, but it would he lp… his mother needed that back surgery, and their family home needed several repai rs. Callan used to bring in a pretty decent salary, but he couldn’t do the same work he used to, not since the accident. Callan must have zoned out for longer than he thoug ht, because the next thing he knew two more finalists had been selected. Another guy, No. 69, long and lanky, with swept back blond hair, along with the third girl to join the finalists. Callan studied her, disappointed he’d missed her audition. But besides her very pale skin, there was nothing extraordinary about her, and Callan had to wonder how she passed. He scanned his sheet for her number, 72, his eye ca tching on her name and conviction. Kaelia Elowyn Nemesis, the assassin, re sponsible for the deaths of several prominent political figures. Callan glanced up at h er again, confused. Her? Really? She looked just like a regular person. No one could hav e ever guessed. Callan supposed that’s what made a good assassin. He leaned back in his chair as No. 73 picked up a t hrowing knife, hoping the judges wouldn’t take too long in selecting the last three finalists.