Can a starship captain maintain the platonic 'mission protocol' with his first mate when they have to take on board two mysterious and beautiful alien empaths and deliver them safely to the peace talks on the gender-conflicted planet Ourania?
Will emotions boil over and physical needs conquer the reserve of duty?
So just who is Anchises, the mysterious alien empath from the planet Turacoena?
Here's a snippet from 'L'Wren, Hawk and the Doves', a March 2015 release form Breathless Press to tease you -
Diplomatic Negotiator Anchises stepped from the shower and reached for his dress uniform. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back from his face, then over his jaw, feeling the smooth line and firm chin. Stiff and aching from the intensity of the past few days, he lifted his shoulders to stretch his back, then dropped them.
Cytheria's discarded blue uniform lay on the bed. He picked it up, folded it, and packed it into her mission bag. It was similar to the uniform he now slipped his legs into—a single piece of soft, lightweight, high-tech material with self-seal fasteners. It was utilitarian, functional, and comfortable, but Cytheria's was smooth and sleeker, as befit her slimmer and more femininely curved figure, than the garment he put on. The material slid over his smooth skin and firm muscles. It was easier once the uniform was on to be Anchises, the man, the diplomat, Dove, negotiator.
He pulled on the tall black boots—again functional and simple—and stood by the mirror. The reflection that stared back at him from the mirror had almond-shaped eyes that could be called either blue or gray set in a face that was square jawed and masculine but with a slightly feminine softness.
It had been a struggle to deal with the weight of the emotions in the briefing sessions. He'd struggled to hold his own responses in check, to stop himself teetering on the edge of the abyss of the emotions around him, the deep, endless ocean of feelings, and fear and love.
Being an empath was a two-way thing. He sensed and experienced all the emotions of the people around him. He also took on those emotions and reflected their innermost subconscious thoughts and ideas, hopes and fears, in himself. The discipline he'd had to learn, the self-control, had been hard earned and a long time in the learning.
But it was always there, the risk that it would get to be too much and that he, or Cytheria, would be swamped, engulfed.
Eyes closed, he focused on that inner self, his core, the very center of who he was, and breathed slowly and evenly.
Let it go; you are not my emotions, you are not me. I am Anchises, I am not you, your feelings are not mine. I am who I am.
He exhaled, long and slow, and his mind cleared and focused.
As he opened his eyes, he rolled his head to either side, lifted and dropped his shoulders, then stood straight and looked back at the man in the mirror.
Tall by Earth standards, and although plainly every inch a man, there was an androgynous quality to his shape—slimmer hips, longer waist, much less body hair. He fitted in, but he was otherworldly, different while being similar in so many ways.
He could never be one of them. Nor could Cytheria. It was too difficult, too dangerous. The emotional risks of getting close were something he'd had to deal with. It wasn't easy to keep his own responding emotions under the tight control this mission demanded.
Deep breath. Focus. I am Anchises.
Satisfied that he looked like a diplomatic negotiator should, he stood for a moment and stared out of the porthole at the panorama of stars, nebulae, and distant galaxies.
Out there—just about forty degrees of azimuth past the binary star he could just make out to the lower right of the glittering vista—spun the planet he called home.
Except it wasn't anymore.
It could never be.
Not for him, or Cytheria.
No way home now.
Come back soon for more revelations from "L'Wren, Hawk and the Doves" - and keep an eye open on Facebook, twitter and Google+ for more on #LHaD
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