Silenus

Silenus A sci-fi alien romance Table of Contents Title Page BLURB ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY ONE TWENTY TWO TWENTY THREE TWENTY FOUR TWENTY FIVE TWENTY SIX MORE BY AMI WRIGHT BLURB Silenus I’m not supposed to be on Earth. I’m a scientist working on a tenuous research grant. I’m not even supposed to make contact. I’m certainly not supposed to fall tail over horns for the tiny human female who rescues me during a storm. We can’t be together. Not with the way Saetah males are built... Yet when I’m near her, I’m blind to everything but my desire for her. It could cost everything: the mission, my career, my freedom and hers. I still must have her. How do I find a way to keep her? Arria Life as a widow and single mother is hard, but I love my family and my small farm. Then a mysterious stranger appears in the midst of a terrible storm on a night I’ll never forget. He must be a god or a monster. His features are so strange and unearthly: long ears, horns, hooves and tail and a muscled physique the poets only dream about. Though the myths certainly never described pleasure like what we share! It’s impossible, but I wish he could take me to the stars with him! Myths and Monsters a series is a steamy romances written for adults. Each book contains a new couple and a HEA. If you like ancient myths and legends reimagined with all the good bits left in; and if you like protective, cinnamon-roll alien heroes, this series is for you. ONE Earth 1st Century CE Arria Stupid goat. I swipe a hand across my forehead, trying and failing to push the mess of frazzled brown hair from my eyes. Each time, the wind whips them back across my face. I’ve long since given up on worrying about my clothing. Simply tying my threadbare, graying chiton in a firm knot at my knees, I push on. Let the neighbors look. As if anyone else except me would be crazy enough to be out in this storm. When the first huge raindrop plops onto my face, I grunt in irritation. Time to give up. Either the goat will return from wherever it has hunkered down for the night, or it will not. No sense staying out and risking my safety. I try not to think about the fact that we can hardly afford to lose another animal. Turning back, I head for our small farmhouse where my two daughters and their grandmothers should all be sleeping soundly, warm in their beds. Gods, I long for my own bed. I can’t wait to slip into the warm blankets and fall asleep beside the now frail body of my mother. It’s been several years since my husband shared my bed. He’s been dead for nearly three. Even before then, the nights when he crept under the covers to grunt over me for a few short minutes had been growing fewer. As rare as he could make it, really. I brush my cheek against the rough fabric at my shoulder to wipe away the raindrops clinging to my face. Another gust of wind blows little dried leaves and specks of dirt to join the water. At least the rain growing heavier will soon stop the airborne dirt from troubling me. The wind splatters a few more large drops into my face and I hurry my steps, not wanting to get drenched. I can see little enough without a light to guide me. The weather made a torch or lamp impractical. Never mind the expense. The moon is full. The large white globe hangs in the sky overhead, almost as if it were peeping through the clouds. Watching. If only Diana, goddess of the hunt, was looking out for me. The goddess might take pity on a mother out hunting for a lost beast. But I haven’t prayed to the gods or left any offerings for many months. To be honest, I hardly see the point. Distracted by my thoughts, I stumble down a rocky incline, almost losing my footing. I nearly miss the figure of the man lying beneath the fallen tree. His pitiful groan draws my attention though. When I realize what I’m looking at, I skid the last few steps to kneel at his side. I touch the heated skin of his cheek with a shaking hand. Then I pull back with a gasp. His honey blond curls are plastered to his head on one side with a dark liquid which looks suspiciously like blood. In the dark I can’t be sure, but it’s not the blood that makes me draw back. It’s the curved horns that sprout from his forehead and curl back toward his ears. Those ears are not at all the shape I expect to find on a human man. In fact, they are long and curved, not unlike the goats I keep on my small farm. I must be imagining things. It’s too dark. My vision is playing tricks on me. As I lean closer, reaching out my hand again, I blink in surprise. This man has no horns and his ears are perfectly normal. Just as I’m about to run a gentle hand over his long curls, my vision flickers, and the horns and strange goat-like ears return. Magic? Should I be scared? The more I look, the more I find it hard to fear this stranger. Horns or no horns, something about the wide lips and broad features looks gentle to me. And he clearly needs help. His torso and part of his face are covered with a large part of the trunk of the tree, which has split and fallen to the ground, crushing him beneath it. I kneel there gathering my wits and wondering what to do. He groans again