I couldn’t resist sharing a teaser from “Captivated,” Episode 2 of “Huntress of the Star Empire.” Xenna is one of my favorite characters I’ve ever written. She’s everything sexy, strong, and beautiful, and refuses to let anyone else define her, even in the face of terrible restrictions on her freedom and great injustices against her people. Yet inside, she has a fierce core capable of deep love for her friends.

 Back on Tenraye, a bare pair of fuschia legs hugged by soft leather boots that went up over the knee stepped over a pile of unconscious male bodies wearing the uniforms of the Tenrayan Provisional Force. Flakes of ash swirled around her voluptuous form, disturbed by the dust-up, only to settle lovingly on her naked skin. Dark berry lips curved up as she peered into the distance, waiting for a signal.
She leaned against the battered ground craft, arching her back in a pose that displayed her impressive breasts to their best. Not that anyone could see beyond the odd field rodent, but it didn’t do to let bad habits creep in. Suppressing a sigh, she glanced over at the trio of deputies who’d promised they’d teach her a lesson about vice in the Civilized Worlds. With an offer like that, how could she refuse?
She pursed her lips as a distant speck on the horizon became a shadow that stretched over the fertile, overgrown fields between the settlement and the mountains. Sadly enough, they proved to be serious. Two of the three were true believers, fully subscribed to the asceticism of the New Morality. The only “lesson” they wanted to teach her was legal apprehension with full respect of her civil rights as a sentient, until such time as she could be repatriated to her homeworld or remanded to a “care facility” for rehabilitation. Been there, done that, got the scars to show for it.
The shadow grew as her lips curled up in a sneer and she tossed a pair of suppression cuffs in the air and caught them before hooking them onto her belt. The sweet moan of anti-grav engines sent the overgrown field grasses rippling across the sun-drenched prairie like great waves, coating her with a fine, tawny layer of particulate plant matter. The approaching hovercraft maneuvered its bulk into position above her, whipping her hair against her face.
At her feet one of the true believers stirred. She kicked him in the jaw and he went down again, blood leaking out from the cut on his face in the shape of her boot heel. just as a retrieval cable descended from the ship. She caught the cable and placed one foot into the stirrup just in time for the cable to retract.
She rose in a cloud of pollen. Once, worshipful lovers had dusted her body with gold, adoring her for the sacred pleasure she brought them. Now, the lovers were rushed and secretive, the sacrament unsanctioned and unsanctified. No one painted her with gold. Now, she painted them in blood, and the dark face of her goddess thirsted.