The Flesh Series

FLESH

Ali has been hiding in an attic since civilisation collapsed eight weeks ago.

When the plague hit, her neighbours turned into mindless, hungry, homicidal maniacs.

Daniel has been a loner his entire life. Then the world empties and he realises that being alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Finn is a former cop who is desperate for companionship, and willing to do anything it takes to protect the survivors around him.

When the three cross paths they band together; sparks fly, romance blooms in the wasteland and Ali, Daniel and Finn bend to their very human needs in the ruins of civilisation.

Lust, love and trust all come under fire in Flesh as the three battle to survive, hunted through the suburban wastelands.

"Flesh in every sense of the word. A fast, fun, and occasionally frenzy-inducing read, but what made this one click for me, was the intense personal connection." - Maryse's Book Blog

"Flesh is an engrossing and intriguing book. Before I started I understood that this was an erotic romance set post zombie apocalypse so I was ready for sizzling sex and high drama from marauding zombies.  I thought it would be a fun, hot read.  But it is so very much more." - Fangtastic Books

"It was fun, eminently readable ... and I must admit that I will be interested in the follow up novel – for the characters of course. In all seriousness, it’s a good blend of erotica, action and romance. The romance tag might put male readers off, but I’d say they’d be missing out."- Adventures of a Bookonaut

"A great underlying storyline- that blended well throughout...   Flesh was filled with kick arse action, blood, gore, pain, hot smokin sex scenes, and an adventure in more ways than one..." -
Page Flipperz


"ZOMBIES!!!!!!!  Zombies and romance!"- Book Liaison

SKIN

Six months since the zombie plague struck, former librarian Roslyn Stewart has been holed up in a school with eight other survivors. But now the shelves in the school canteen are bare. The stranger at the gate has supplies that will ensure the group’s ongoing survival, but at a cost. He wants a woman.

Nick is a man with a plan. He’ll treat Roslyn like a Queen, devoting the rest of his life to protecting and providing for her. In exchange, of course, for sexual favours. It’s the deal of the century given the state of the world. But Roslyn doesn’t see it that way. The first chance she gets she attacks the ex-army man and attempts to escape, forcing Nick to contain her. And so begins his awkward courtship of the woman, with her chained to the bed for security reasons.

Chained like a dog and forced to spend her every waking moment with a creep, albeit a good looking one, Ros is determined to escape. When circumstances force them to band together against a common enemy their very survival depends on their ability to learn to trust each other. An uneasy partnership develops, but can a relationship with such a difficult beginning ever have a future?

The hotly anticipated sequel to Flesh, Skin is set in the same universe with a different set of characters.


"Another super-steamy zombie apocalypse read by one of my new favorite “queens of steam”, Kylie Scott!! ... Love these books! But it’s not just gratuitous sex. Intense, detailed romance is what keeps me hooked." - Maryse's Book Blog

"All I can say is that this book is amazing and maybe even better then the 1st if possible!!! Also 5 stars is not high enough!!! This book is a 5+ stars rating!!" - Twinsie Talk Book Reviews

"Scott took me on an emotional roller coaster ride that was sometimes confronting, most certainly thought-provoking, yet ultimately satisfying. The action is fast-paced and gruesome, the romance compelling and intense." - Kylie Griffin, author of the Lightblade Series

"Kylie Scott has delivered yet another fantastic story. Filled with Energy, hot sex, action, suspense, and gore." - Page Flipperz

"Very thought provoking, and I think Kylie approached it with realism and dignity in equal measure." - Bookchatter Cath

"I cried. I yelled at my Kindle. I gasped. I chuckled. I smiled. And I loved e-v-e-r-y agonizing moment of it." - Reading Infection




ROOM WITH A VIEW

Natalie has watched as the zombie plague devastated civilisation.

Angus had been a miracle. Twenty-three years old and gorgeous he had appeared like Romeo from the pool area and thrown supplies up to her balcony. But now Angus is gone – abandoned her, which is probably for the best. She couldn’t stand to watch him die too.

Stranded four floors up and fenced in on all sides by the infected, food and water supplies are running as low as Natalie’s spirits. A lingering death from starvation seems inevitable.

But then she sees Angus striding for the pool gate with a sawn-off shotgun in his hands. Can he make it past the infected to reach her? And what will it mean if he does?

Room with a View is a short story set in the same world as Flesh and Skin but featuring new characters.




And here for your viewing pleasure are the first chapters of both Flesh and Skin...

FLESH...

CHAPTER ONE

Brisbane, Queensland

53 Days Post Apocalypse

Daniel looked down the barrel of the shotgun all set to blow his brains out and grinned. These days even a gun-toting, trigger-happy female was a delight to behold, and she was perfect.

     Sunlight streamed in through the kitchen window. She all but shone with it, like an angel or a princess or something. Something a little overdue for a bath and a lot on edge, but something very good just the same. The feeling of sweet relief rushing through him nearly buckled his knees.

     Tall and curvy, around thirty at a guess, and uninfected, she was by far the best thing he had ever seen in jeans and a t-shirt. Not even the dried blood splattered on the wall behind her could diminish the picture she made.

     Sadly, his girl did not appear to share his joy.

     Wary gray eyes devoid of even a hint of elation watched him down the barrel of the gun. He refused to be discouraged; his smile did not waiver. “Hey.”

     “Gun on the floor. Slow.” Her voice sounded dusty with disuse. “Eject the
clip.”

     “Okay.” Daniel did as told, keeping his happy face on her the whole time, hunching a little when he stood back up. He gave the old rucksack at his feet a nudge with the toe of his sneaker. It currently contained the sum total of his worldly goods, but she was welcome to it. “There are just a few cans of soup, and Irish stew. Help yourself.”

     Plush pink lips parted as though she might speak but then paused, as if she thought better of it. The grimy finger squeezing the trigger shook some. It was good to know she wasn’t completely okay with blowing his brains out right here and now. That was nice. Of course if her nerves got any worse, they might be in trouble just the same.

     He softly cleared his throat, trying not to startle her. “You’ve, ahh, got the safety on. You see there?”

     Daniel nodded to the dangerous firearm pointed his way and waited for the confusion to cross her pretty face, for the golden moment of distraction to appear. It didn’t happen. Her lips puckered but not for kissing. The withering glare confirmed it.

     God bless her. She wasn’t falling for any of his bullshit. Which made it time for Plan C. Plan A would have had her falling into his arms, demanding immediate sexual gratification. He wished. And B was for the Bullshit, which had not gone down, thus leaving only C for Clusterfuck.

     Then, everything happened at once.

     He grabbed the barrel of the gun with both hands and shoved it skywards.

     Her reflexes kicked in, and her finger jerked hard on the trigger. The resulting boom was beyond deafening. Heat seared the palms of his hands. His ears rang as if a brass band had set up shop in his head. A shower of plaster dust rained down on the two of them like confetti at a wedding, which had to be a good omen. While she coughed, sneezed and shook off the dust, he grabbed her. He

pulled her in against him with one hand while keeping a good grip on her gun with the other. She and the gun definitely needed to part company, pronto. His arm wrapped around her belly and her ass tucked in against his hips. Testosterone and pheromones ran riot, and his blood surged hot – the bulk of it heading due south. His brain was on its own. Fragrant or not, she felt beyond good spooned

against him.

     So. Very. Good.

     Unfortunately, there was still the matter of the gun. She clung to the thing like a lifeline.

     “Let it go.” He ordered. She ignored him, not a surprise.

     Daniel held the weapon high above her head waiting for gravity to take its eventual toll. The woman stretched and strained, stubborn as hell, but her strangle hold slowly slipped away until she was clawing at thin air, sliding down his body till the heels of her boots reconnected with the kitchen floor.

     “Easy,” he soothed and flicked the safety on the gun. He slid it across the kitchen counter, far from temptation.

     Her body trembled and her hands latched onto the arm at her waist. Shit, he didn’t want to scare her. That wasn’t the objective. But her fingernails were digging deep, drawing blood and stinging as she tried to push him off. Small sounds of distress came from her throat like a wounded animal. She had probably been on her own since civilization came to an end two months back. What must she have been through? While one wrist wasn’t hard to catch, two was tricky when his girl was so determined. “Calm down. Please, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re the first uninfected I’ve come across in weeks. Talk to me.”

     “Let. Me. Go.” She gritted out between clenched teeth. Music had nothing on the sound of her voice.

     “I’m Daniel Cross. What’s your name?”

     In reply she growled and squirmed and carried on. Her soft warmth was heaven, causing his body to respond for the first time in a long time. Having her rub up against him was worth almost getting shot any day of the week.

     Her t-shirt rode up a little and her jeans eased down some. His fingers made contact with silken, smooth skin and the curve of a hipbone. He had to remind himself to breathe. The want to just wrap himself around her and hold on tight was huge. She must have felt his hard-on nestled against her ass because the wrestling kicked up a notch. But she wasn’t going anywhere. No chance. His girl

disagreed.

     She slammed her head back, catching him on the jaw and coming close to dissecting his tongue with his own damn teeth. It couldn’t have done her precious skull much good either. “Shit! Damn it. I am not going to hurt you. Stop it.”

     She, of course, chose not to, going wild in his arms for all the wrong reasons.

     In the end he let her wear herself out, waited till she hung limp in his hold, damp with sweat and sucking in oxygen as if she’d run the minute mile.

     “Are you finished? Going to be a good girl for me?”

     With a sullen little huff, she nodded her agreement. The dark blonde ponytail littered with plaster dust bobbed up and down beneath his nose.

     “Okay,” he said.

     Nice and slow he took a step back, reluctantly drawing his arms away from the warmth and softness of her. His eyes, however, didn’t stray from her for a second.

     It didn’t take his girl long to react. An elbow flew at his face, and she spun around. Her own momentum delivered her back to him. Their chests impacted in a wonderful manner. He locked his arms around her, giving himself over to the thrill of it. The press of her gorgeous, generous tits against him nearly stopped his heart. For a brief moment she wasn’t fighting him. For a treasured millisecond

she stopped to regroup and his soul swelled. She was his very own personal nirvana.

     “You promised to behave,” he scolded. “Bad girl.”

     “Fuck you.”

     “Good idea, I love where you’re going with that. But let’s say we talk first? Get to know each other?” He gave her the biggest shit-eating grin of his life, the same one dying to burst out of him since she’d burst in. What the hell. He couldn’t remember having this much fun in years and definitely not in the last two months. The sound of his own voice was a novelty, having someone to hear him an absolute joy.

     “You were going to tell me your name,” he said, but his girl still wasn’t done.

     For her next move, she attempted to feed him his balls via her knee. He managed to block it by jamming together his legs to catch hers. Before she could start scratching or slapping, he pulled her wrists together behind her back, securing them in one hand. This unfortunately worked against him because of the way her breasts strained against the front of her t-shirt. The lace cups of her bra bore a mesmerizing pattern. It drove him crazy. Like flowers and curlicues was a code to all of her deep dark secrets. Damned if he wasn’t going to pop a blood vessel trying to decipher it.

     While he was distracted, the ingenious woman lunged at him with sharp little teeth. He fast-risked losing a nipple to her fury.

     “Now that hurts.” A sound smack to her rear produced a startled yelp. The jaws of death unlocked. Thank God. Daniel wrapped her ponytail tightly around his fist to prevent a repeat performance and got down in her face, nose to nose, grinding his teeth and feeling more than a little annoyed. “That was not nice. Stop and think. I have done everything possible not to hurt you. I only want to talk to

you. You’ve shot at me, scratched me, kicked me, and now you start biting. Apologize.”

     The woman jerked back, her eyes as round as the wheels on his trail-bike.

     “Well?” He waited with ill patience while she said nothing for a good, long time. More than long enough for him to notice she had a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks like a scattering of sugar. He had never been into freckles but there was a first time for everything.

     “What do you want?” she hissed.

     “Let’s start with being friends, that’s probably going to challenge you enough for one day.” He let out part of a breath. It wouldn’t do to let his guard down fully when the girl was this tricky. “Why attack me? We’re both on the same side, aren’t we?”

     She snorted. Her eyes skittered away from him, her body twisting, continuing to test his grip.

     “Behave for a while and I’ll try the letting-you-go thing again. In the meantime, why don’t you try using your words? Talk to me.” He hadn’t thought her face could harden any further but she managed it just fine. Her mouth tightened and stony, pretty gray eyes stared up at him as if she was imagining the size hole she could blow in him with her big gun.

     “I’m really happy to see you,” he ventured. “You know we could go some place safe, and share a can of stew. Or soup… Whatever. Your choice. I don’t mind. Totally your call.”

     For a first date, it sounded shit even to his ears. She seemed less than impressed.

     The woman glared at him like he had grown a second head, and it wasn’t

any better than the first.

     “Right,” he said, straightening his spine. “Then we’re just going to have to do this the hard way.”



SKIN...

CHAPTER ONE

Stanthorpe, Queensland

188 Days Post Apocalypse

In the end they took a vote on whether or not to trade Roslyn to the stranger at the gate. They even gave her a say, demonstrating democracy was not dead even if civilisation had gone belly up seven months back when the virus first struck.

All nine survivors gathered on the school steps. The weak winter sun above them did little to combat the bitter wind. Her marrow was ice and her teeth chattered. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself, huddle down into the green school jacket she’d purloined out of a student locker. But she didn’t. Spine straight, shoulders back. Her father would have been proud.

She cleared her throat. No one would meet her eyes. They couldn’t do this and she would explain why in a sensible and rational manner using as many small words as deemed necessary. “I know we’re running low on food, but there’s no reason why we can’t make a trip into town to look for supplies. If we just make a plan-”

“Let’s get on with this,” said Neil, former head of the Maths Department. Still pissed she had refused to put out. Never had she met such a pretentious, unattractive git. “A raise of hands for ‘yay’.”

Her gaze skittered around the group.

Some hedged, but the hands were definitely there, six of them.

Shit. No.

The world slid sideways and she locked her knees, breathing hard. Holy fucking hell, they were really going to do this. How could they? How could this have ever happened? The world made no sense.

But wait!

Directly across from her, Janie hesitated. The girl’s elbow jerked back and her fingers folded. Hope blossomed warm, deep in Ros’s gut.

Neil ‘harrumphed’ and dealt Janie a stern look, brows drawn tight and mouth a puckered mess. It was the face reserved for particularly painful students and staff who dared cross his path. Janie caved. She reached for the sky, pale blonde hair flying in her pretty face. Her eyes were shiny bright and she blinked furiously, trying not to cry, the damn teacher’s pet.

Double shit.

Roslyn was right back where she started, except even more friendless and alone. She’d always basically been a happy person, a people person, but this... fear froze her solid. Ice had been working its way through her veins since the plague began. Today it took over.

No point blaming Janie. Not really. The stranger at the gate wanted a woman and Mrs Gardner, formerly of the Home Economics department, was well past sixty with an arthritic hip. That left Roslyn or Janie, and Janie was young. The girl had to be a good decade less than Ros’s twenty-nine. They’d found her on day two, huddled behind a filing cabinet, a bloody letter opener clutched to her chest. Apparently, she’d driven it through the Principle’s eye socket when the virus got the better of him. For months the girl had woken up screaming in the middle of the night.

Roslyn couldn’t have sent her out there. But why the hell did that mean she had to go?

The answer being: because the cowardly, lazy bastards wouldn’t dare a trip into town and the shelves in the school canteen were bare. None had ventured beyond the stout stone walls of the Gardens Hill College, and none of them were planning on attempting it anytime soon.

Spineless, back-stabbing-

“Nay,” Peter, the former groundsman said forcefully and raised his hand high. Mrs Gardner did likewise. Roslyn’s eyes fogged up.

Her own vote to the negative was a foregone conclusion.

The end tally stood at six for, three against.

She was outvoted.

Her empty stomach spiralled. The material of her pilfered grey school uniform clung wet beneath her arms despite the cold. Her own clothes had given out months ago. That life was gone. The knowledge stunned her stupid. She stood there slack jawed with wonder at the horror of it.

They were going to trade her to the stranger to be used for God knows what perverted sexual purpose. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare, safe in her own bed. Wanted for all of it to have been a warped dream she tried to explain to her girlfriends after one too many glasses of wine. Today was the 1^st of July. She should have been worrying about taxes, not this.

God, how many times had she wished for her old life back?

The man stood waiting down at the gate, lounging against the side of his panel van. It was apparently loaded to the brim with goodies. Perhaps it would turn out to be a Trojan horse, packed full of ninjas. He’d drive it through the gates and kapow! Bad guys would attack in a flurry of action. Game over.

It would serve them right, betraying bastards.

Well, some of them.

Janie cried openly now, blubbering into a thick wad of tissues. The girl was a mess, like it helped anyone.

Someone stamped their feet and another coughed, bored or cold or a combination of both. The wind howled around the grand old stone buildings and shook the leaves in the gum trees. Her insides felt hollow. Her fate decided. They had actually done it.

She rubbed at her temples, willing her brain back on-line. She needed to think, to plan. Her hands shook with fear and frustration. What fuckery was this? The whole world had gone mad in more ways than one.

“He said you’d be treated decently,” Neil said, studying his sturdy, brown shoes. The wanker.

Something inside her broke. She balled her fist and swung wild. Giving it everything she had left in her.

Neil’s steel rimmed glasses flew and blood fountained from his nose, splattering the concrete vibrant red. The colour was stark and beautiful against the dull grey.

Janie screamed.

Mrs Gardner nodded.

Peter, the former groundsman, grinned.

Roslyn’s hand throbbed but satisfaction slid through her. She’d never hit anyone before. She abhorred violence, normally. Though this... wow, this was all good. And the results spoke for themselves.

“Gaanhh!” Neil grabbed at Janie’s bundle of soggy tissues and stuffed them beneath his nose. He gave Roslyn a filthy, dirty look and bared his teeth like an animal. An animal in a worn tweed jacket and mission brown slacks. When he spoke his voice was muffled, heavy. “Exactly what I’ve been saying! You’re out of control. No group mindedness.”

Right. Time to go.

She shoved a hand into her pocket, reassuring herself her reading glasses were there. There was nothing else she needed back in the storeroom she’d called home. A site she’d chosen because it was one of the few small, enclosed spaces with a lock on the inside. Partly to keep out the infected and partly to keep out Neil. If group mindedness involved sacrificing herself to him then forget it.

Huh, he was really bleeding. She smiled, satisfied on one count at least.

Time to go. Her work here was done.

She turned and took her first wooden steps towards the gate, nursing her hand to her chest. The pain proved to be a useful distraction from the rising fear. The gates were old, macabre and ominous. They’d always reminded her vaguely of the Adams Family.

What was left of the world outside?

Neil raged on behind her, spewing all sorts of vitriolic bullshit. Soon enough the cold wind carried his voice far, far away.

The man at the gates watched her progress with eagle-eyes. Roslyn averted hers and studied the cracked bitumen drive-way. Already weeds were growing through. Wouldn’t take long for Mother Nature to reclaim what she’d lost. The man straightened, pushing off from the van as she drew closer. He was built solid in a way that did nothing for her nerves. Getting away from him might just be a bit of a problem.

No. She’d manage. There was always a way.

Never say die.

Behind him the town lay sprawled out, slumbering. No signs of life. This would be the first time she had stepped outside since the morning of Christmas Eve. She had arrived for work, the news reports full of crazy, untenable carnage and chaos. Principle Barry had made the decision to lock the gates, sealing them in. No one had protested. At the time it seemed the only course. They hadn’t known Principle Barry had already been bitten.

Her car still sat around back in the staff car park. It would be sitting there for a long time to come.

“Is your hand alright?” he asked as she slipped through the gap in the gates. He had a deep, smooth voice, deceptively warm and friendly. Light brown hair fell over his forehead. He had dark eyes and a neatly trimmed beard.

What the hell did he want with her?

Bad question, she didn’t really want to know.

Her chin rose but her knees knocked, shaking from more than the winter winds. “Worried you’re getting faulty merchandise?”

He gave her a curious look, eyes squinting, but said nothing.

Maybe he had been hoping for Janie.

Maybe he’d return her, demand a full refund. God knew she wasn’t anybody’s prize. Average height, average weight, average pretty much everything. But she was old enough to be comfortable in her own skin. Never would she be a blonde bombshell in the making like the barely post-pubescent Janie. Maybe looks didn’t even matter anymore.

What did he want?

The man’s gaze drifted over her, in no rush at all, beginning with her red, home-cut hair. She resisted the urge to shove a hand through it, and attempt to calm the crazy. Screw him. She’d hacked the bulk of it off a few months back mostly for practicalities sake. Making herself less attractive to Neil had been part of it, though not something worth admitting to. It hadn’t succeeded on account of Neil being a letch but maybe it would work with this guy. She had to make a ridiculous picture, a grown woman with a shitty haircut wearing the remnants of a school uniform. Nice. Quality. She rubbed the toe of her battered black sneaker against the drive. Shoes courtesy of the lost and found bin.

Maybe he really would call the whole thing off. Or maybe he would turn around and demand Janie.

No. That wasn’t something she could live with.

She braved a blink of a smile. His eyes widened, looking startled, if anything. It soon gave way to sceptical. Fair enough. She’d never been much of an actress.

Up close, the man was even more intimidating. A black AC/DC shirt drew tight across wide shoulders. The colours were faded like he’d worn it a hundred times. He stood half a head taller than her, his body built lean but solid. Aged in his late thirties, perhaps? Definitely a bit older than her. In no way did his face look boyish despite the twinkle in his eye. The rifle strapped to his back spoke of serious, its’ muzzle sticking up beside his head. She would still get away. There had to be others out there. Rational people. Trustworthy.

Her knuckles throbbed, the back of her hand swelling and darkening. Any escape attempt involving punching him was right out. Sneaky would be her best bet.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The man tipped his chin, turned towards the van and pushed back the side door. No ninjas but lots of supplies, canned goods and blankets, a couple of guns, some knives and one shiny, aluminium, baseball bat. Her hands itched to wrap around the smooth handle and excise some fear and frustration.

He reached inside for a backpack, threw it over a shoulder. His gaze returned to hers, assessing. The corner of his mouth rose and little lines deepened beside his eyes. Ah, she’d apparently amused him. Her scaredy-cat shaking hadn’t stopped. She clearly wasn’t kidding anybody with her evil eye.

“I’m not going to hurt you” he said.

And for once, she didn’t say the first thing to come to mind. Something along the lines of his shoving a can of soup up his ass to keep his false words company. Instead she sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and lied to her new arch-enemy. “All right.”

“What’s your name?”

“Roslyn. Yours?”

“Nick,” he said. “Let’s get a move on. Sun goes down soon. The infected’ll be coming out.”