We're almost there! Saturday, 2/25/12, Gravitational Attraction launches at Silver Publishing!
What's that? You need to know more? But of course
Gravitational Attraction - a M/M SF novel by Angel Martinez
"Get involved in this, in any way, it's going to bite you so hard on the ass you'll never be able to sit down again."
Captain Drummond's words of advice quickly become prophetic in this new SF epic from the tilted brain of Angel Martinez. One bitter, failed fighter pilot with a bad neuro-implant, one shattered, lost mercenary who's not sure if he's just caused a bloody catastrophe, one quirky, talented crew, one power-mad admiral, and a mysterious planet in the quarantined zone - all blenderized together for your reading pleasure.
By Angel Martinez
Erotic Fiction for the Hungry Mind
Coming 2/25/12 from Silver Publishing!
M/M Science Fiction
Excerpt RATING: PG-13
A distress call draws the Hermes to a drifting ship, empty except for the gore-spattered corridors and one survivor. Drawn to the traumatized man, Isaac offers the kindness he needs. But Turk harbors secrets, his brain a dangerous military experiment. It will take more than kindness to save them all.
A terrible jolt yanked him from the dark. Shchfteru. Agonized screams. Rage coursing through every nerve. The white… blinding white… imploding suns… the terrible silence…
He had no wish to open his eyes again. There had been a face, a beautiful face, but he must have dreamt it in his madness. The silence remained. If he opened his eyes, he would see the cell again, the blood drenched walls, the gray horror of his floating tomb. No. Better to keep his eyes closed and see again those dark eyes set against flawless golden skin.
Wait. Sound. The soft sound of even breaths drawn. Not alone. Sweet spirits, I'm not alone.
His eyes flew open to find a miracle staring at him from across the room, the same lovely face from his vision. It must have been true. His body felt warmer and no longer as if he might go mad from thirst. Rescue… perhaps. But he needed to be cautious.
"Hey." The beautiful, golden-skinned man spoke, his smile reaching his raindrop-shaped eyes. "You recognize me?"
He could only stare, hesitant to believe the evidence of his senses. They had lied to him before in recent days.
"You have a name?" The voice rivaled the face in beauty, soft and warm, caressing his exhausted mind. "All right, we'll start with mine. I'm Isaac Ozawa. And I guess I could just call you the Marduk Rescuee, or maybe Ishmael—"
"Ishmael?" The word caught in his dry throat, barely a rasp.
"Yeah, you know, the sole survivor? And I alone survived to tell the tale? Oh, never mind. But it would be nicer to have a name."
He swallowed against the rawness, trying for more of a voice. "Turk."
"That's your name? Turk?"
He nodded and watched in fascination as Isaac shook his head, dark hair fanning his cheeks.
"Of course it is. No soft sibilants or lingual sounds for you. Oh, no. Nothing but hard, strong sounds. You probably have a last name that would hurt to say."
Turk drew a slow breath, trying to keep up with events. His head ached. "Always… talk so much?"
"Only when I'm nervous or pissed off."
"Which is it now? Oh, nervous, definitely." Isaac shifted, head cocked to one side. "Not that strange men usually make me this nervous."
"But… I do." He forced his attention away from the captivating face. Isaac was in uniform, burgundy with gold piping. He couldn't match the colors with any unit he knew. Whose hands had he fallen into? "Water?"
"Oh, shit." The beautiful smile fell. "Of course you want water. Damn. Hang on."
Turk eased his head back to the bed, waiting. Something pinned his hands and feet. In his weakened condition, he had little hope of breaking a magnetic or even a physical barrier. Isaac came back into view, water bottle in hand. A sharp, electric jolt ran down Turk's spine when an elegant, golden hand slipped behind his head to help him drink. He had no business thinking about those hands.
"Thank you." Why did he have to be so kind? It would make what he had to do so much harder. He closed his eyes on a sigh, gauging the remaining strength in his wasted body. "Back hurts. Need to…"
"Stupid restraints," Isaac muttered. "They should've at least left you one hand free so you could shift a little."
He chewed on a sensuously full lower lip, considering, as Turk watched in helpless fascination. Isaac's jaw clenched as he seemed to come to a decision. He reached over and pressed the pad to unlock Turk's left wrist.
The moment he regained movement, Turk lunged. He seized Isaac by the throat, applying enough pressure to constrict his airway.
"What unit? What battle group? Whom do you serve?"
Isaac's fingers scrabbled at his hand, his eyes wide and desperate. "Don't… please…"
"Who are you?"
"Not… military," Isaac choked out, his coloring edging up from pink to crimson.
"Liar," Turk growled. "Implant. Fighter pilot. Behind your ear."
"Ex-Altairian… fleet…" Isaac gasped, struggling to pull away. He was strong but not large enough to break Turk's grip. "Bad… implant. Discharged… this is… commercial ship… courier…"
His eyes rolled back and his body went limp as if someone had stolen his bones. Turk let him slide to the floor, his heart racing. With his free hand, he unlocked the rest of his restraints and rolled to peer over the edge of his bed. Isaac lay crumpled on the decking, the shadows of his thick, black lashes caressing his cheeks.
No insignia, no rank designation, a courier ship… what have I done?
Angel Martinez - Erotic Fiction for the Hungry Mind
Gravitational Attraction - available for pre-order at Silver Publishing!
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