annesible (annesible) wrote in gayrotica,
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gayrotica

Amaranth & Ash by Jessica Freely

Amaranth is a vasai, born with both male and female characteristics and forbidden from sexual relations with any but the ruling class. Ash is a chel, a member of the underclass. Their unlawful passion ignites a rebellion and transforms their world.

Over a year ago I started posting episodes of Amaranth & Ash in rough draft on this community. Now the book is complete, edited, polished and available from epublisher Loose Id:
http://www.loose-id.com/Amaranth-and-Ash.aspx

I want to thank you for your support.  Feedback from readers like you was a big motivator in bringing this project to publication. :)

If you'd like to keep up with more news like this you can receive my free, low-traffic newsletter.

Newsletter members have access to free fiction not available anywhere else. Like Amaranth & Grail, now up in the newsletter files section. It's about young Amaranth as a trainee at the Temple. Amaranth is always getting in trouble with his instructors for asking the wrong questions. This time, he's gone too far, and his best friend Grail has to make a choice.

You'll also be eligible for exclusive contests like the one I'm running right now for a free print of the Amaranth & Ash cover art by P.L. Nunn, signed by the author and the artist. I've given away two of these so far and the last drawing is tomorrow.

Sign up is quick, secure, and free: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jessicafreely/

Here is an excerpt from the complete, polished version of Amaranth & Ash by Jessica Freely. I hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you again for your encouragement!

The first thing Ash became aware of was that he wasn’t cold anymore. Then he noticed that the cardboard he lay on had somehow gotten much softer. He rubbed his face against it and realized it wasn’t cardboard at all. It was much too smooth and soft. While his sleeping brain puzzled over that, it dawned on him that he was able to notice these things because the pain that had overwhelmed all other awareness was now a distant, dull throb. He tried to crawl his way up out of the languorous stupor that wrapped him in warmth and comfort. He didn’t really want to wake up. He hadn’t forgotten what had happened to him...

...and he knew he should be feeling far worse than he did. Perhaps this was all a dream that would fade the moment he opened his eyes, and he’d be in his little lean-to in the culvert again, cold and naked and hungry.

Except the more he lay here, the more certain he became that what he felt beneath his cheek was a pillow. That meant he wasn’t in the culvert. He was somewhere else. He couldn’t have gotten anywhere else under his own power which meant someone had brought him here, wherever here was. His eyes flew open and he forced himself up with his hands.

He blinked in the bright morning sunlight. It reflected off whitewashed walls. The room he found himself in was simple. He lay in the only bed. It stood in one corner and had an iron frame. The headboard had bars that ran vertically up and down it. Good for tying people to, he tried not to think. He sat amid a sprawl of white sheets and two -- two! -- blankets, one blue, the other green. They were practically the only color in here.

In the wall above the worrisome headboard was a window, deep set, with little panels of glass set in a metal frame. The window stood open, letting in the morning light and a fresh breeze scented with some sort of heady flower. On the same wall stood a simple wooden table with a chair drawn up to it. There was a pen stand, and a writing tablet there too. Against the wall opposite the table was a wooden chest. Above it, several garments hung from pegs.

The fourth wall had two doors, one on the end near the chest and the other almost directly across from the bed where he lay. Like the floor, they were made of wood, dark brown and beautifully polished. Between the two doors stood an overstuffed couch upholstered in a rich, dark brown velvet, and on the couch, asleep with his… her… head resting on the arm, was the most beautiful person Ash had ever seen.

The individual was dressed in white -- loose trousers of some sort of slightly shimmery material, and a tunic of knitted fabric that looked nubby and at the same time, indescribably soft. The hair was blond and long, cascading down the arm of the couch. Stray wisps clung to the long neck and the perfect, oval face: a long, delicate nose, lips as pink as rosebuds, chin and brow and cheekbones all balanced on the knife-edge of androgyny.

Ash barely dared breathe. This was a vasai! The beauty of the creature made his cock stir. Desperately, he tried to quell his response. He was in equal parts mortified at his reaction, and astonished that his misused body was capable of it.

As he stared at the vasai, the almond shaped eyes opened, revealing glittering golden irises. The vasai blinked, once, twice. A smile transformed the face from pristine perfection to a much more irresistible living warmth.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The voice was as beautiful as every other aspect of the individual, and equally unhelpful in terms of determining gender. The vasai sat up, stretched, pulled a few wayward strands of golden hair from his face and leaned forward, fixing Ash with a piercing look from her scintillating golden eyes. “How do you feel?”

Ash gathered the covers more tightly around his body and said, “What do you want?”

The vasai gave a little shake of her head and smiled, then stood and approached the bed. Ash backed up to the wall. The languor of sleep faded, reminding Ash just how badly he’d been hurt. Even that small movement made his muscles scream in protest. He stood no chance at all of fighting him… her… off. Helplessness brought tears of frustration to his eyes and that only intensified his humiliation.

“I’m Amaranth,” said the vasai, stopping the moment he observed Ash’s reaction. Now she stood halfway between the chair and the bed, arms loose at her sides. “I found you last night and brought you back here. This is my apartment. Nobody is going to hurt you here.”

Sweet words, but Ash wasn’t dumb enough to believe them. This was a vasai. He was a chel. Why would a vasai help a chel other than to get some use out of the chel? “Just tell me what you want.”

Amaranth tilted his head to one side and pursed his lips. “I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”


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