Title: Overlord: A Spicy Dystopian Sci-fi Romance (The Price of Talent Book 4)
Author: AK Nevermore
Genre: Spicy Dystopian Sci-fi Romance
Book Blurb:
Power comes with a price.
On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…
Chaos rules the city of Glynfyls.
And all Flynn Scot can do is watch. With the hill frozen in the shadow of the coming Incursion, and the commons giving into a bacchanal madness, the city’s chances of survival are dire. His hands tied by mandates, in order to do what he knows is right and give them a fighting chance, Flynn will have to risk everything by doing wrong.
Meanwhile, Kara can’t hide her declining health.
The Triam’s location remains elusive, and the window to get the treatment she needs is closing. Unwilling to give in, or idly await her fate, she hatches a daring plan to help save the city, even if it ends up destroying her politically.
Because Titus’s army is marching closer to Glynfyls, and they’re not alone.
With them comes a monster that threatens not only the city, but the entire Breaker hierarchy. As the world watches on tenterhooks, Flynn and Kara race against the clock to save their people, but there’s no guarantee they can save themselves.
Watch the book trailer: https://youtu.be/GB8EpDNA6Q4
18+ Excerpt:
Flynn’s bedroom door slammed open and the lights flicked on.
“Get up.”
The hell? He blinked, lifting his aching head to glare at Rogan. Man looked even more beat to sh*t now that the bruising from their fight had set in. One side of his jaw was twice the size it should be, and he didn’t look any happier to be standing there than Flynn was to see him.
“F*ck off,” he growled, his arms tightening around Kara. She murmured in her sleep, a “V” pinching between her brows as she snuggled against his chest.
Rogan laughed. “Wish I could, kid, but Titus’s troops are crossing the border, the city’s burning down again, cattle are running riot through the streets—” He swiped up a pair of pants from the floor and chucked them at Flynn. “—and we’re on fire brigade.”
Goddamn it.
“Are you serious?” he hissed, catching them as he pushed up to sit.
Kara huffed and curled into a little ball, out cold despite the asshole’s bullsh*t. Flynn frowned, but wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t slept at all the night after succumbing, and he damned well knew the toll of unmaking the damage Otto had done to her bitch mother was more than Kara was letting on.
Rogan’s gaze dropped to her bared shoulder and slid down her back to the blankets pooling around her hips. His tongue flicked over his lip. “Think I’d be in here otherwise?”
Flynn growled, ripping a blanket up to cover her. If that motherf*cker even thought about—goddamn it. Man had just handed Flynn his own ass in front of the entire Breaker line. If Rogan, the Alpha f*cking Prime, wanted to challenge for her, he’d win, and they both knew it.
So did the thing growling in the recesses of Flynn’s psyche, its hackles raised. Wasn’t conducive to him being in a particularly cooperative mood.
He slung his legs over the side of the mattress, talent crackling around his fingers. Goddamn it. That didn’t help either. He snuffed the sparks in his fists and pulled on his pants. Fabric was still sticky with gore. What time was it? His eyes found the clock as he zipped up. A little after two in the morning. Didn’t this f*cking city sleep? “When did Titus cross the border?”
“Vanguard’s a couple hundred miles in and moving fast,” Rogan said as he reached down to scritch behind Hiss’s ears. Stupid cat let him. “Stonefist called Quorum. I was on my way to wake your ass up for that when the fire broke out. Sh*t’s officially hit the fan.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Flynn grabbed a shirt and kicked into his boots, still glowering at Rogan. Asshole shot another look at Kara before he flashed that goddamned grin and backed from the room. Flynn killed the lights and just stopped himself from slamming the door shut. God, he hated that prick.
“What the hell are they rioting about now?” he asked, smacking the button for the lift.
Rogan shrugged and stepped in. “They’re throwing one hell of a party on the lower rungs, but this ain’t that, far as I can tell. Heard somebody say a cow kicked over a lantern, and it’s Chicago all over again.”
“Chicago?” Flynn asked, hitting the button for the main floor.
The Breaker rolled his eyes. “You know, big fire, O’Leary’s—never mind. All you need to worry about is it putting it out.” He pushed past him as the lift door opened and stalked toward the gate.
Flynn’s temper spiked and his talent sparked with it. “Me? How am I supposed to—” He stopped to scuff out a patch of smoldering carpet. Christ, that was getting old.
“Right there all the time, isn’t it?”
Flynn scowled. “Yeah. Weren’t you gonna do something about that?” Talent flared around his fingers again, and he swore.
Rogan sighed, glancing at the gate. “Right. How do you control your Shade ability?”
Was he an idiot? “Control my—I don’t. It’s not like—I gotta pull it to use it. They call it cloaking for a reason. It’s like gathering—whatever, it doesn’t matter. I asked about this Breaker sh*t.”
“Everything matters. Nothing’s important.”
“Did you just quote Nietzsche?”
Breaker cocked an eyebrow. “Did you just call me out for quoting Nietzsche?”
“Christ, you’re a dick.”
“You should talk. Look, in case you haven’t figured it out, Breaker talent isn’t static. It’s tied to your emotions, just like bloodlust. The fact that you’re as moody as a teenaged girl doesn’t help.”
Flynn glared at the man, his teeth gritting together at another flare of talent. “Then what do you suggest?”
“You know anything about physics?” Flynn’s eyes narrowed, and Rogan sighed. “Look, I’m not any more thrilled about this arrangement than you are, so let’s do it and have done. Easiest way for me to explain it is to equate Breaker talent to Ohm’s law—”
“Ionic flow. Got it. Energy is dissipated as heat. Then what?”
Rogan’s brow raised. “Then you reach equilibrium by dissipating it, maintaining the state by breathing the potential out, and letting talent cycle through you,” the Breaker said. “You don’t let it build until you need it.”
“How the hell do I do that?”
Rogan made a come hither motion. “Watch and learn.”
They stepped through the gate and into hell. Flynn wiped his brow, his skin abruptly too tight. Smoke seared down his throat and hung thick in the air, stinging his eyes and occluding the morass of standing water and hard baked sludge coating the street. The haze softened the edges of the blaze as a line of Fixers fought to keep it in stasis, while every Fetch able to shift an oxygen molecule battled to snuff the flames. Their crimson blue flicker and the silver and bronze glow of talent warred, filling the streets with an unearthly glow. Within the thin shell of talent, booms shook the ground. A rain of smoldering debris peppered the street, and a f*cking cow ran by.
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Author Biography:
AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef and restores antiques when she’s not running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.
Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time, volunteers for far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.
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