AnEllora’s Cave Romantica Publication
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Hunger’s Harmattan
ISBN # 9781419907685
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Hunger’s Harmattan Copyright© 2007 CharlotteBoyett-Compo
Edited by Mary Moran.
Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.
Electronic book Publication: February 2007
This book may not be reproduced or used in wholeor in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher,Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and anyresemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purelycoincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination andused fictitiously.
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S– ENSUOUS
E– ROTIC
X– TREME
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant formature readers. This story hasbeen rated S-ensuous.
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing tothe imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to theimagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titlesmight contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words,almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the mostgraphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness inthese works of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plotpremise and storyline execution. Stories designated with theletter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for thefaint of heart.
Hunger’s Harmattan
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Chapter One
Lieutenant Colonel Shanee Iphito glancedsideways at her image in the full-length mirror and she liked what she saw.
Her uniform tunic and trousers fit herperfectly with not one wrinkle or smudge on the slate gray serge fabric. Herblack boots were polished to a high gloss and the brass anchors pinned to thecollar of her tunic gleamed. Her fourragère—the braided black cord with ahanging brass tip that hung at her left shoulder—drew her eye and as it alwaysdid, made her heart swell with pride. The cord was given only to thoseGuardians who had been seriously wounded in action for it symbolized ahangman’s rope and coffin nail. It was there to remind her that her life as aPrimary Riezell Guardian could be forfeit at any moment.
Putting a hand to her sleek braided chignonto ensure no hair was out of place, she straightened her shoulders, ignoringthe tug of pain that pulled at her arm.
“You pass muster, Iphito,” she said to themirror, chin lifted. She liked the way her white hair shone in the light andthough her eyebrows were that same color, the natural darkness of her Amazeencomplexion and the deep gray of her eyes only heightened her appearance. Sheknew she was a beautiful woman.
Pivoting with military precision, she lefther quarters for her appointment with the new head of Command Central GeneralMaximillian Strom.
Miriam Quillan glanced up as Shanee enteredthe office and frowned. She looked back down at the file she was reading.General Strom’s secretary did not care for the Amazeen warrioress who had beengiven the coveted rank of Primary Riezell Guardian. Of all the Primes beforeher, Iphito alone rubbed Miriam the wrong way.
“I am here,” Shanee announced, knowing herdeclaration would annoy the mousy little secretary.
“Take a seat,” Miriam said through clenchedteeth. “You’ll have to wait.”
Bristling at what she considered thesecretary’s insufficient respect for her rank and position, Shanee remainedstanding, folding her arms over her chest. Her gray eyes bore into the top ofMiriam’s head, and if the look the Amazeen directed Miriam’s way could have killed,the secretary would have burst into flame.
Ignoring the other woman, Miriam made anotation in the file, laid it aside and picked up another just as the door toGeneral Strom’s office opened.
“What the hell’s keeping you? Get your assin here, Iphito,” the general growled.
Shanee did not miss the humorous twitch ofthe secretary’s lips. She narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits, and when Miriamlooked up at her with a smug smile, the Amazeen literally hissed at the otherwoman. She took a step toward Miriam only to have the general come out of hisoffice and grab her arm in a hard grip.
“Stop that!” General Strom snapped. Hepulled Shanee into his office and slammed the door behind her. “This animositybetween the two of you women will stop. Today!” He released her arm.
Shanee snapped to attention. “Aye, aye,Sir!” she said, though her jaws were clenched tightly together—not merely fromthe anger she was feeling but because the man had aggravated the wound that hadnearly cost her her life.
Strom cursed under his breath as herealized what he’d done. His blue eyes were stormy as he skirted his desk andsat down. “I did not mean to hurt you,” he apologized.
“You did not, Sir!” Shanee stated.
“Liar,” he countered then waved a handtoward one of four chairs sitting in front of his massive desk. “Sit down.”
“Aye, aye, Sir!” Shanee sat down primly inthe chair with her back ramrod straight, her knees and ankles pressed together,hands folded properly in her lap.
“At ease, Colonel,” Strom said. “It’s toolate in the day for such rigid posturing and it pisses me off.”
Shanee’s shoulders sagged only a little inresponse to his order. “Aye, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
The general leaned back in his form-fittingchair and put his fingertips up to his temples where a nagging headache hadbeen plaguing him all morning. “And drop that lame-ass military protocol. I’mnot Alphon Morrison so I don’t require having my ego stroked with all thatbullshit.” He made tiny circles against his temples with his index and middlefingers. “We will be working together and not against one another. Is thatunderstood?”
Shanee relaxed, sitting back in the chair.She’d heard nothing but good things so far about the man who had taken over thereins of the Riezell Guardians though—like nearly everyone else—she knew verylittle about him or from where he’d come to assume the head of Command Central.
“Your shoulder is healing?” Strom asked.
“It is,” she replied.
“Had that Gearmánach blade struck anotherfew inches down, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he said.
“The Gearmánach wasn’t as skilled as hethought he was,” Shanee said.
“And paid for that mistake with his life,”Strom said.
Shanee shrugged. The mission
