“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.
Author Bio
Rae Z. Ryans is a member of the RWA and RWA Fantasy,
Futuristic, and Paranormal chapter. She currently resides in Alabama with her
family. 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.
Excerpt:
Human life held value. A virgin body attracted more wealth
than a used up hag. What my master had paid for mine, I hadn’t known. I’d been
born of unfortunate circumstance and abandoned as an infant. Like most women in
the rebuilt world, I’d existed as a slave to men. Slaves never voiced opinions
if they’d wished to live. Without an owner, I’d wilt away or fall to the harsh
conditions of the broken world.
At eighteen and on my birthday, all I’d celebrated was my
new sale. With a single suitcase grasped in my hand, I’d boarded the steam
engine, and departed Delphia for the first time in my life. My destination,
over ten hours from the Hampshire House of the Lady, lay in one of the three
surviving countries of the Sundering. Arcadia was where my new owner lived.
Hard to believe it an improvement of my situation, but rather a woman belonged
to a single man than those visiting the brothel.
“Ticket miss?” the man interrupted my daydreaming thoughts
as the door to my compartment skidded open. I fished into the pocket of my used
pea coat and handed him the crumpled documents. He whistled low as his eyes
raked over me. My skin crawled with a hundred bugs, and my stomach lurched from
the sudden jostle of the train.
“Business or pleasure?” He accentuated the pleasure. I
thanked the dim lights and hid my blush in the shadows. His hand punched my
ticket, and he marked something on his clipboard. But those eyes kept rolling
over me, and his tongue grazed his teeth.
We slowed down, and my legs itched to run for it as the
steam driven lights dimmed inside my train car. Vehicles, small ships, and some
older trains operated on the steam systems, but the tracks were older and worn
from the icy elements. Steam remained cheap; trash was by far the cheapest.
That much I’d understood from the overheard newscasts and conversations. I
shifted in my seat as the train pulled to a screeching stop on the platform.
Fancy women and groomed men waited their turn as the passengers departed.
“Business.” I forced a smile and met his glassy stare.
Women were different now; I guessed but I had no notions of
the real world beyond stolen moments of television. Even then, I hadn’t
followed much of what they’d explained. New laws had passed, revoking old rules
where men couldn’t own humans, let alone women as property. Females once
established within the governments had found themselves forced from their
positions. Even soldiers and officers found themselves without jobs, and they
became instant scapegoats. God spoke; the man on the television had believed
and blamed the rise of feminine power for the Sundering. Free men had believed
the wild banter as the upper class citizens sought a reason. There lived a rationale
for everything in life, and every wicked deed they had viewed as a punishment.
To me it was a bunch of hogwash, but it had remained the truth.
“Awful long way to travel for a young miss such as
yourself.” His eyes said what his lips hadn’t. I was alone and a slave. At
least the tinted talc hid the marks in my hair, turning the twisted mass into a
pale lilac shade. Wanton men took a glance and knew what services I offered.
Usually, I wore two thick swatches of purple streaked through my dark hair. The
unmistakable sign had announced to others that I remained pure –a prize among
the men but a whopping, fat lie. Nothing about me was wholesome anymore, and
everyone I passed knew it too.
Sure, to him I was young –small enough to pass for a child-
bundled in my coat, but I’d forgotten about the uniform. Even hidden beneath
the wool, my corset squeezed against my boney ribs and dug deeper into my
already marred flesh. Years of training allowed me to block the pain, but I
wasn’t used to the stares of strange men.
At the house, men knew better than to touch me when Jules
was there. My body had belonged to him, and he remained their boss, but I
couldn’t rely on him any longer. Instinct kicked in, and I moved away from the
man, placing my body against the wall of my compartment. I shivered, but there
wasn’t even a hairline gap between the metal barrier and me. He stepped
forward, not bothering to close the door, and my heartbeat quickened. My lungs
burned as he approached, and the scent of his aftershave nauseated my stomach.
“Excuse me,” a deep, accented voice called from the train
car’s hallway.
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