by Rae Z. Ryans
Dystopian Paranormal Romance- with light Steampunk
“Enjoy a morbidly assortment of heartache, tears, and sadness …immediately felt connected … flow is beautiful … this book is what perfection really is!” -Toni L.
The world sundered and the demons arose, warring against those neither God nor Satan had wanted.
Korrigan trained most of her life as a courtesan, submitting to the will of men.
Petre searched for the perfect woman to break his immortal curse.
Sold to Petre in Arcadia, Korrigan stumbled through her journey of love, treachery, and forgiveness. Secrets and lies whispered in the dark recesses of her mind as her past haunted her dreams.
What if all her master taught her proved to be wrong? As the weight of her new world compounded on her shoulders, slave and master hatched a plan to liberate the brothel and tear down the walls.
Beyond the Brothel Walls Saga #1
Lust ruled the demons. Seven signs have come and gone. Sloth ruled the vampires. Seven angels fell to the Earth. Envy ruled the courtesans. Seven Keys lay hidden amongst the Seven Angels. Gluttony ruled the rich. Seven families rose and fell. Wrath ruled the Horsemen. One family would bring the world to its knees. Pride ruled the Morning Star. The Horsemen must seize the keys. Greed ruled the world.
Rae Z. Ryans currently resides in Tumbleweed, Alabama, with her family and belongs to the Romance Writers of America. Published since the age of fourteen, Rae enjoys writing romantic, erotic, fantasy/paranormal stories and poetry. Her name pays homage to her brothers: Specialist Ryan D. Rexon and Zachary U. Berthot.
She is currently working on Beyond the Brothel Walls #2: Altered. This post-apocalyptic, erotic paranormal romance is emotionally driven, dark fantasy.
“Pardon, but do you mind if I sit with you?” His hand motioned towards the open bench opposite of me. “The train is rather full,” he added with the arc of his black brow.
“Sure.” My gaze did not falter. Saying no, was not an option. Instead, I further studied him from the glass reflection. This man existed far above my low station by more than class level. Even if he appeared my age, there were not any signs of a harsh life on his angular face. A curious scar etched into his cheek though, and I bet the disfigurement had made for a fascinating story.
“You don’t sound terribly sure, miss …”
“Charlotte,” I lied. My real name stood as another reminder of my former life with Jules. Korrigan, the Goddess of Prostitution, and a sacrifice to her included paid sexual acts. He’d reminded me every chance and never allowed me to shorten the terrible name. I crossed my legs and folded my hands over my knee. Maybe my new master would permit a nickname.
In his reflection, I watched as the stranger’s dark eyebrow rose. His eyes no longer reflected as black, but they appeared … wrong, like they’d held too much emotion for someone as young. “You don’t look like a Charlotte.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my eyes from rolling. Whoever looked like their name? Who could say they looked like this name or that name. I shrugged instead and stared out the window. The whistle blew again, and the engine’s hiss soothed me. The stranger made a tsking sound as he leaned forward, and glanced out of the window. More flames licked at houses and trees.
“The fires are a real shame.”
After the oil had vanished –burned or pumped dry- humanity fell further into turmoil. The nuclear drought followed, caused by the shortages, and the sundered earthquakes swallowed the states one by one. Those earthquakes destroyed the majority of the eastern coalmines too. I’d watched on as the world around me collapsed. Trucks, cars, boats, and planes stopped across the country for years. Delphia –As they had called the former United States now- fell the hardest when the earthquakes had hit. Dams fractured knocking out hydropower. Food grew scarce when farmers could not operate equipment or transport goods. Riots started, and people looted, stealing and taking from their friends and neighbors. The news replayed the stories to this day.
The other continents fell, swallowed by the oceans, or starved out of existence in the blink of a few short years. The Southern Americas and parts of Canada had survived, albeit torn asunder into a series of islands connected by bridges and tunnels. Even twelve years later, fires still blazed and pillowed their thick, black smoke into the polluted sky. There existed no heaven, no hell, but this odd sense of limbo as progress continued to falter around the remaining world.