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QUIT YOUR WANING, EXCLUSIVE EPILOGUE

Breeding kink and knotting:

I come home from my usual patrols to find my mate of two months has been waiting for me with a delicious gift between her legs. When she asks me to give her everything, how can I deny her appetite for more?

CONVERGENCE, BONUS EPILOGUE NOVELLA

Olivia’s abduction from Thel’s POV:

I’m running out of time fast. In order to save the hundreds of human lives enslaved on the Paramour, I need to look and act the part of a seasoned buyer. But my intel is a joke. If I move forward as is, our chances of success are practically nonexistent.

But I'll do anything to ensure mission success, even if it means committing a capital offense.

When the abduction of one human is weighed against the lives of hundreds, what choice do I really have?

I know which human I’m going to steal from Earth: the sharp-tongued behaviorist with piercing eyes. She's the right choice for the mission, but are my motives purely operation-related?

I won't know if the twinge in my chest is more than that until I meet her face to face.

Olivia Loxley...

VIGILANCE, BONUS EPILOGUE NOVELLA

Breeding kink and breath play:

When a pregnant colonist shows up at the clinic, I’m overcome with a startling realization: Ezraji and I are so different. You’d think by now that this wasn’t news, but waking up in his mane each morning has become as natural as breathing.

I have a secret to share with him, though, and I can’t wait any longer. I’ve been holoshopping for cribs. I know diversification is possible, and I’m excited to discover how our DNA will intermingle.

But the process will be a true test of will. Because we’re the only doctors in the colony, we have to continue working side by side, even though the therapy I’m on makes me hyperfertile. We’re sick for each other, and can’t scratch the itch until we know diversification has taken hold.

It can’t come soon enough.

PERSISTENCE, BONUS PROLOGUE

Bree’s abduction in New York City:

Look, my life’s not roses and sunshine–more like piss and flickering overheads–but I like my job and I’m good at it. I work for the New York Metro, and no one’s better at scaring taggers out of the abandoned station connected to mine.

Also, my coworkers are lazy as fuck.

Which is how I ended up dragging my shitkickers down to the old orange token booth at the Broad St entrance.

Only it wasn’t a bunch of kids looking to practice their graffiti or one of those urban spelunkers that post trespasser videos on Youtube to get their jollies off.

No, I just had to get the fuckin’ alien. What is this, Men in Black? Get outta my station with that shit.

If I survive this, I’m definitely asking for a raise.