Written in Stone


Written In Stone

A Near-Future short romance

While undercover, Stone Mason must find a data-link before a destructive demonstration and Monika discovers the sex-struct searching her room. Will working with the sexy agent be dangerous for her heart?


Undercover agent Stone Mason must find a data-link before a demonstration for underground bidders leads to mass destruction. His search of a posh hotel is risky, but time is up.

Monika Linberg returns to her hotel room after her boss dumps her and assumes the striking, robotic sex-struct is her consolation prize.

Stone is no construct, but a living, breathing man whose touch and need for information and assistance turn her world upside down. Will working with the sexy agent to keep the city safe be too dangerous for her heart?

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 Enjoy this short excerpt.

In the moments it took for the adrenalin to dissipate, Stone palmed a tiny titanium bar then stripped off the black camo and coolpac. Once no longer in contact with his body the materials disintegrated to a fine, black dust. The puff of a gentle breeze carried the evidence of his descent over the city.

Stone glanced down at himself. The remainder of this assignment would depend on his wits and physical abilities. There was no way for him to carry tools, equipment or weapons, except for the specially designed sensor bar.

Taking a careful step toward the broad, clear doors, he adjusted the second-skin uniform designating him as sex-struct companion. Companion? He snorted softly. Mechanical sex slave was a more accurate description. Months spent undercover—he snorted again—as a sex-struct led him here, chasing a data-link rumored to contain a sequence capable of destroying the entire eastern city-coast. Escalating reports of the gathering of known terrorists determined to bid for the technology precipitated this search.

Once he retrieved the data-link, exiting the posh hotel would be simple. He’d simply walk out the front door. No one gave the determined stride of a sex-struct a second glance. Unless they were considering a hire. Stone caught the reflection of his tense smile in the darkened glass. After completing his programming as an experimental model, the offers for his service in the testing lab had been gratifying.

Luckily, after the initial testing period, the engineers, directed by another UIB agent, determined the need to delay the release of his model. However, word had leaked from the facility and the Sexcomm schedulers had been hard pressed to deny the existence of an improved sex-struct and direct offers to current models. In this instance, Vartan Haig’s insistence on silence within and between the numerous projects his company, VarCo, engaged in, both assisted and hindered Stone’s investigation.

Stone frowned. As normal training protocol he should have had unlimited access throughout the entire complex to allow the struct practice blending into any situation. Not every customer wanted it obvious to a casual observer they hired sex-structs. But in the last couple of weeks, each section of VarCo had become virtually barricaded against casual visitation from other sectors.

A chill skittered down his spine and lifted goosebumps on his arms. Much as the thin material of his uniform did nothing to keep him warm, neither did it hide any aspect of his physique, one of the reasons he’d been given the undercover assignment. Not many agents were comfortable with the–exposure.

The thin titanium strip slipped between the door and the jam. The microscopic electronics in the tip disengaged the alarms and after the lock snicked open, the door slid to one side.

He entered.

Eyes narrowed, Stone made a slow visual scan of the room. One benefit of his target moving from the penthouse was now he had less area to search.


Monika Linberg slammed the door behind her, leaned against the heavy wood and kicked backwards.

“Frickin’ shit head.” Another kick accented each declaration. “Rat-bastard. Damned idiot.”

Pushing away from the door with a lurch, she stomped toward the bedroom. Furious, and determined not to cry, she continued her rant under her breath. Vartan Haig didn’t deserve her tears. Or the burgeoning emotions that slipped away far too easily when he’d laughed and broken the news to her.

A soft sound made her pause in the doorway. A tall man stood next to the dresser. He turned toward her holding her flimsy, pink negligee before him. A scream pressed against the base of her throat. The man’s transparent clothing registered past the rise of fear and the sound morphed to a garbled laugh. A sex-struct?

The company she worked for, at least until Var decided to rid himself of her there too, depended on the construct industry to finance a variety of other projects. Especially the profits from their lucrative sex-struct sector.

So. Var called an end to their relationship and sent her a sex-struct as a consolation prize. The flash of anger faded to apathy.

It was better than flowers.

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