End of Days with stories by Neal F. Litherland, Krystal Brookes, and Debra Smith
erotic post-apocalyptic anthology (all erotic romance, one M/M/F-M/F/M)
Release Date 12/6/2012
Cover art by Winterheart Design
Heart of the Myrmidon by Neal Litherland
When mankind fought the Hyperion War, it created weapons the like of which has never been seen before or since. Now, living below the surface and trying to rebuild, many of those weapons still roam free. Pollux, a titan made to fight a war that ended nearly a decade ago, wanders the streets and caverns looking for some reason, some purpose, to surviving Armageddon. For the veteran of the last battle though, that reason is found in the most unexpected place.
Underground by Krystal Brookes
In the midst of a nuclear attack, Kerys finds comfort and protection for herself and her small child in the arms of two lovers. Stuck with few other survivors on a Glasgow Underground train, she wonders if this sultry affair is born of circumstance or if they can make it last.
The End’s Beginning by Debra Smith
Nicole has lost everything—her family, her identity, and her world. Her only reason for living is for revenge against the “abominations” or Abomos—a race of genetically enhanced soldiers.
Each day is just another day to die until she meets Seth.
When she meets her new partner Seth, she hopes her attraction is nothing more than a need for sex. Joined with him in a dangerous mission to find a master hard drive with the key to ending the war against the Abomos, she discovers that they both need…each other.
Seth’s a man with secrets, which he’s struggling to keep from Nicole. She's fearless and strong, a match for him in all things. He's risking everything to help humanity, but there’s one more risk he has to take—revealing the truth to Nicole. Together can they stay alive long enough to find out if this new world has room for them, and their love?
I caught his hand before he got his heater fully pulled and he fired twice up into the ceiling on reflex. The band stopped playing. He pulled, but his arm didn't move.
I turned so that I could see all of his friends. They stood there, hands on blades and broken bottles, stunned. I squeezed, and I felt the bones grind inside my fist. Then they snapped, and he screamed as his hand, and the metal of his gun, crumpled into a nasty, misshapen ball.
Blood shot out from between my fingers and his skin split like a pulped melon. I dropped him, and he curled on his side, cradling what was left of his arm and crying. I looked back at his boys and let them see my eyes. There was no mistaking the blue eyes of a Myrmidon; a shade like a perfect sky that nearly glowed in darkness as they drank in the ambient light. I stood, a Colossus of flesh that towered over the tallest of them, a weapon of a time when men had built gods to fight the titans from beyond the stars.
For a moment I thought that was going to be it. But a noise come from the pack. It wasn't words, but rather something from before the war; from before mankind had reached for the outer darkness or even built cities. I knew it even before they knew, and it was why I was ready when they charged.
Despite what's in the history books, or what the people back home heard about the breakthroughs when human DNA had been merged with Hyperion genetic code to create us, Myrmidons were not fighters. We were killers, and we were taught by generations of killers that had survived the initial skirmish with the invaders how to destroy and disable every possible opponent. We could break bones with a twitch of a wrist, or tear apart armored vehicles with our bare hands. We had been drilled every day in every weapon that had ever been created, but we excelled in close quarters combat because we were to be the front line against the alien fleet when it hit the dirt. I had lived through that.
I batted the first knife aside just hard enough to knock it flying, and swung the momentum back around, smashing my elbow into the side of the wielder's neck. His eyes rolled, and he fell. I brought my boot into the next man's knee, and the broken glass of his bottle skittered over my coat as he shrieked and fell atop the first man. His leg bent the wrong way, but with proper medical care and some determination he'd walk again.
I caught a wrist in my free hand and twisted, popping the arm from its socket like it was a wishbone. The last man struck the side of my face, and glass shattered. He stood for one more heartbeat as if wondering what had happened, when I sank a fist into his guts and drove the breath from him. He folded. It had lasted about five seconds, and no one had died. It would have been easier, but I wasn't some defunct war machine without an off switch. No matter what some people thought.
Underground by Krystal Brookes
The End's Beginning by Debra Smith
She held her silver throwing knife loosely and without any warning or hesitation, she let it fly.
A low whistle sounded from her left. Turning to see who it had come from, her decent mood fell to ruin. An unwanted audience skulked in the dark. It wasn’t that she was being watched but the fact she hadn’t noticed that really pissed her off. She was never unaware and this unknown person watching from the shadows really made her temper flare.
Out of pure reaction, she let her spare throwing knife fly toward the intruder’s head. Shit, she was going to get into trouble again. The first time she hurt a coworker, they had slapped her on the back of the hand. The second she had to take anger management classes for two full hunting cycles. She was going to get suspended for sure this time.
She walked closer to the shadowed form expecting to see…well, something other than what was before her. He was propped up against the brick wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Nicole had to admit they were really nice arms. His limbs were strongly muscled but not bulky or heavily veined. There were no imperfections on his tan, smooth skin. He had a tattoo on the back of his arm, but she really couldn’t make it out. His chest was nicely defined and easily visible because of his tight black t-shirt. His hair was dark brown and disheveled. A pair of Oakley Juliet’s covered his eyes, and a hard jaw with a slight dusting from a five o’clock shadow formed the lower half of his face. His mouth was set in a cocky half smile. The last part really added to her irritation.
She reached down to her side to grab another throwing knife to fix his attitude, when he unfolded his arms and held up her throwing knife for her to see. The silver tip glinted in the light cast by the halogen lights.
Slowly stalking toward her, he moved like a lethal predator with a false calm and the kind of grace she only remembered seeing portrayed by dangerous hunters in the animal world. He leaned into her body, so close they were almost touching. Closing her eyes, she savored his dark and spicy scent. It screamed danger and hot nights full of amazing sex.
His mouth poised by Nicole’s ear; his breath caressed the sensitive skin as he whispered, “Missed.”
Nicole suppressed a shiver brought on by his sensual tone.
“How did you do that?” Nicole asked with her eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion. She never missed. It was the main reason why she was still alive in the new and completely messed up world.
He didn’t answer her, just shifted his weight, and the knife was gone. Nicole blinked and checked herself for injuries. She had none. She turned around and stopped mid-search when she found her missing knife. It was next to her knife in the practice dummy from her earlier workout, dead center of the target’s bulls eye, from a distance of over forty five yards. She wasn’t even that good.
She turned to the stranger with a whole new level of emotions, part anger and part arousal. She only slept with men that could beat her, and it had been a very long time since that happened.
“Where the hell did he go?” Nicole asked herself in a murmur. She felt cold, a result from his absent body heat. Whatever—she just shrugged it off. She had a meeting with her commander and she really needed to shower. She was getting a new mission today. Meeting with the terminator wannabe would not ruin her good mood. After walking over to the practice dummy, she retrieved her knives. Silver was hard enough to come by, she wasn’t going to leave any behind.