Taming The Wild Man

by Toni Sands

Genres: Romance; Erotic & Steamy Romance; Science Fiction

Synopsis

Toni Sands excites with her trademark other-worldly romance. Known for her ability to transport the reader to other times, Toni Sands takes a trip to an Huxley-esque future.

Twenty Fourth century Zia lives a pampered life below ground. Her commune controls emotions and reproduction, allowing only gentle petting until she's selected for sex with hunky stud Conall. She visits his strange world where she and her 'wild man' find passion so potent that they yearn to see each other again. A tempestuous second meeting convinces them they belong together but Zia must re-enter her world. A vital discovery prompts her to escape before it's too late, despite risking the commune's fury. Will the prospect of bliss within Conall's arms give Zia the courage to take what she really wants?

Release date: March 26, 2010

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 73

Sample

Chapter One

UNIPOD 21 IS SET on autopilot, ascending on suckered struts through bleached sand dunes strewn with gemstones. Gulls hover; dark splashes against a sky the colour of sugar plums. The road flattens, widening as the dunes dissolve into grassy slopes awash with feathery goatsfoot and exotic succulents.

Music is a forbidden fruit in Zia’s world but today she gets to hear a 21st century orchestra pulsing in her ears. As her body thrills to the sensuous beat, she breathes deeply at the thought of what lies ahead. And wonders how she’ll react.

The flip of a switch steers the vehicle into a lay-by. Zia waits while the system checks it’s safe to step outside. The door slides open and her feet hit ground dry as a biscuit as she steps into the sunshine. The silence is broken only by the sweet song of a tiny bluebird and the restless ocean below as Zia allows the security icon to identify her iris pattern and immobilise the vehicle.

The temperature control on her stretchy pantsuit swiftly adjusts to the climate. Tiny silver shorts barely cover her rounded bottom, as she lopes down the cliff path. As soon as Zia’s hover boots bring her safely down, she unfastens her rainbow-striped helmet, worn by every 24th century female travelling above ground. Dark curls tumble around her pale, oval face as she smells the sea-thyme, sniffs the thrift and tastes the breeze’s salty tang. The ocean shimmers, pink-ruffled wavelets lapping against ebony sand.

It’s like the virtual leisure decks … no, much better than anything I’ve experienced before. Soothed by the crooning ocean and relishing the breeze fingering her waterfall of hair, Zia wanders towards something glistening amidst a rocky outcrop. A pool! How can she resist dipping into its depths? Under the surface, sea anemones sway, some dripping lacy fronds, some studded like an old-fashioned pin cushion. She trawls her fingers above the corals and jellies. When she touches the fringed seaweed, the rubbery bubbles slip from her grasp and a tiny shrimp feathers its way through the water towards her.

‘How could anyone ever eat you?’ she exclaims, suddenly shocked by the thought.

This is only the second time Zia’s been selected to journey alone above ground and she jumps up, confused by the intensity of her emotions. The seascape may be peaceful but inside her, long-hidden instincts are stirring. She raises her right hand and licks her fingers one by one. Saltiness coats her tongue, strong as the yearning she doesn’t fully comprehend.

She narrows her eyes. Although this is a planned journey, she’s still a flesh and blood creature: still vulnerable. Someone’s observing her. Zia jerks her head. Further down the shoreline is a figure. A figure too far away to distinguish but her intuition speaks loud and clear. The blood pounds through her veins as again she’s shaken by something disturbing yet tantalising. Her special assignment’s unfolding and her senses are at High Doh.

Zia takes a step towards the man striding across the sands. Images crowd her mind, as if replaying race memories handed down the centuries. She glimpses knights in silver chain mail, astride stallions scenting battle. She sees warriors strutting in scarlet feathers, proud masculine faces daubed with aggression. She sees skin of every hue known to earth people – pale, café au lait and mocha – toughened by adversity or softened by pacifism.

In reality, a long-limbed male with honey-coloured skin approaches. He catches her eye and tosses his tawny mane away from his face. She senses an easy kind of arrogance yet his expression’s wary and she detects something unfathomable in his hazel eyes. She’s been shown a likeness of a similar man. But it was not this man. And what she sees, his feet planted firmly on the shore, excites her far more than a holographic image.

‘A Wild One,’ she says, looking him in the eye.

‘A Star Sister,’ he says, bowing his head. ‘I salute you.’ He gestures towards the cliffs. ‘But surely they haven’t let you venture here alone?’

Zia’s hand touches the hollow beneath her throat. Her pulse quickens and she knows he’s close enough to see how the swell of her breasts disturbs the bodice of her severe tunic. She tries to control her breathing as she watches his gaze fall to the brief shorts where the mound swells beneath the taut material. He looks down at the slender, tapering legs as if he can almost taste how they would feel, wrapped around him. When he raises his eyes to hers, his expression’s no longer inscrutable. It’s raw with longing.

Zia is empowered. ‘I am protected, Wild One. And we both know why I’ve come to you.’

His eyes darken. He takes a step forward. But Zia is fierce in her femininity. Suddenly she’s on the defensive: a tigress waiting to be tamed yet not too quickly. Although too naïve to be fully aware of the lure of the chase, she bounds away from the man, following his trail of footprints in the sand. As she runs, she has no doubt he’ll follow. She may be a woman inexperienced with sexual games but she reads the message in his eyes. She feels the animal magnetism. He hurtles after her, powerful limbs pumping. She glances over her shoulder, confident he won’t overtake, knowing he too has an image to savour. And unaware how turned on he is by the sight of her delicious rear view.

Zia finds the cave as if she’s always known it existed. Cool air caresses her face when she enters. As her eyes adjust to the dimness, she notices the silky pelt spread upon the volcanic shingle. A covered basket stands on a granite shelf, a bottle resting in the rock pool alongside. When a shadow crosses the threshold of the cave, Zia accepts the moment has arrived. . . .