Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
When I woke up on a different freaking planet, I was pretty sure my day couldn’t get any worse.
I was wrong.
The aliens who found me decided I was sent from heaven and that I should be given to their king —
who has a somewhat dubious reputation.
Turns out their king is a demon. Of course he's wicked af. It'd be weird if he wasn't.
Before you can say hissy fit, I get tied to a tree and left to be sacrificed like some innocent young virgin. Problem is, I’m none of those things.
What if he’s disappointed? Then again… what if he isn’t?
And when Krav the Demon King comes to claim his waiting gift, I'm not sure which is the way my body responds to him, or the way the feeling seems to be mutual...
Brutal Demon is a spicy, standalone sci fi romance with dark themes. Check out series content warnings for the Planet of King's series on Lee Savino's website.
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One
Renee
I’ve had better days.
For a start, I don’t know where I am. Not in the sense of, I took a wrong turn off I-45 and this neighborhood isn’t familiar, but more like: I woke up in the dirt feeling like I got hit by a truck, and looked up to see three suns blazing in the sky. Three. Freaking. Suns.
It got weirder from there.
I’m dressed in regular clothes—jean shorts, a pretty blue tank with Not Today, Satan! emblazoned across the chest—but what I’m wearing is the only familiar thing anywhere near me. I’m dopey, like I took a sleeping pill last night, and as I try over and over again to identify my surroundings, I can’t help but wonder whether I’m still dreaming.
Please let me still be dreaming.
Did I hit my head? Because I’m seeing triple. There’s no way there are three suns in the sky. The air is smoky like I’m standing on the wrong side of a barbecue. The familiar flat landscape of my backyard is gone, replaced by black, craggy mountains. One of them, the biggest, looms closer than the rest. Its top burns bright red.
Someone is hustling towards me. The figure is very tall, very slender, and very green. And apparently very surprised to see me.
When they speak, it sounds like someone drunk trying to speak a combination of Dutch and Spanish—but somehow, I understand perfectly. “Hello, stranger, are you well?”
I open my mouth to reply. “Not really. I don’t know where I am.” I’m speaking English, but what comes out is that weird, garbled language. In my voice. I cough and try again. “What the fuck?” Something I suspect might be ash clogs my throat, and I hack it up. I’m not making the best impression, but what can I do?
“You will come with me now.” I can tell from her voice that the strange creature is female—albeit well over six feet tall. She beckons and I stumble after her. I’m thirsty as all hell, breathing in the smoke-thickened air, and coughing nonstop. “Poor stranger. I will find you something to drink.”
I pick my way over the rocky ground, following as fast as I can in bare feet—god only knows what happened to my shoes. We pass between two giant boulders made of reddish rock. The green woman leads me to a cluster of dwellings beyond. Each building is low to the ground and rounded, made from some sort of stone that reminds me of adobe.
“One moment.” My companion ducks her head to dip into the nearest building, and reappears with a cup of something that smells sweet. Is it safe to drink? I’m too thirsty to care.
The liquid is tart and refreshing, and I gulp it down.
“Wait here,” my guide says in her strange language, and glides elegantly away.
I stand clutching the empty cup, the suns blazing down on the back of my neck. The village dwellings are arranged around a central circle. The climate is desert dry, and barren aside from some scraggly trees with black trunks. The few plants at my feet have more thorns than needle-like leaves. The air is hot and filled with floating ash, probably because of the giant mountain with the smoking top.
I’m not an expert on volcanoes, but that can’t be a good sign.
One by one, the doors to various huts open, and more figures emerge. They don’t look like any humans I’ve ever seen before but I assume the tall ones are adults, and the shorter ones clinging to their robes are children. They cluster around me, dipping close to stare, but staying out of reach.
Three suns in the sky. Unfamiliar surroundings. Crazy tall people who don’t look human. Suddenly being able to speak another language. Unwilling to face the conclusion I’m coming to, I shove the thoughts aside.
The green lady returns, parting the crowd. She’s accompanied by a crimson figure, who steps in front of her to appraise me.
I blink up at him. He’s even taller than the woman, and wearing some weird combination of latex and fur. But it’s not his insane height—at least a foot on me, maybe more—or gimpy costume that’s the oddest thing about him. His skin is a deep, rich shade of red—the kind you’d love to own in a lipstick—and patterned with pale pink markings, like a tiger or a zebra has on their fur. Oh, and his hair is orange, including his eyebrows, lashes, and wispy chin beard. He’s staring at me with ruby eyes, his creased forehead crinkled.
From the reverent way the people behind him are behaving, I can only assume he’s some kind of leader to them. A village elder of sorts. And he’s obviously deciding what to do with me.
We’re facing off in front of the crowd. I have so many questions, I don’t know where to begin.