Pen Name Book: Trading Teon by Reagan Hawk

Have you read my pen name book, Trading Teon? Here is an excerpt from it!



The Beast Masters Series, Book 1

Garon and Lorne, shapeshifting males of the Ralenium race, are fierce guns for hire in the universe. When a cargo ship transporting women charged with crimes by the Galactic Star Union arrives on their planet, the men make the traders an offer they can’t refuse. Planet Ralen is sorely lacking in women, and the males have an inborn desire to dominate, to tame females and to reproduce. When their inner beasts’ clocks start ticking and the burning need to spread their seed consumes them, they go on the hunt for the perfect female. Too bad both men want the same woman.

Teon, a lady with a place in high society, thought life as she knew it was over when she was wrongfully charged with a crime by her stepmother. A prisoner en route to a barren planet to serve her sentence, she’s presented with an opportunity to start over again on the planet Ralen. The catch is she has to be willing to be claimed by two males. Not just any males mind you, two burning hunks who are ready to fight to the death if need be to share her bed.




Novella contains graphic language, light BDSM play/themes, extreme alpha male shifters who cannot wait to get a collar on their female to brand her as theirs for life, women willing to submit and scorching hot sex scenes. If you don’t like strong men who take control in the bedroom and sometimes out, or if you’re in the market for long, drawn-out plots, this isn’t the series for you. This novella is hot and dirty and won’t apologize for that fact.


This book is a work of fiction and is not meant to be a how-to book or a manual to the BDSM/fetish lifestyle. It is merely meant to be read and provide a mental escape for your enjoyment. Always practice safe sex and never enter into BDSM play without proper knowledge and understanding of the lifestyle and a trained, trusted practitioner to guide you through it all. Serious injury or death could result from improper BDSM/fetish play. Safe, sane and consensual (SSC) is a must. The Raven Books and its authors, owners and operators are not responsible for any injuries or death that may occur from improper use of techniques or information found within this document.

Chapter One

Garon of Ralen neared the outer quadrant’s guard tower. The path to it was well-worn, unlike some of the other paths on Ralen. Regardless of how used the path was, the forests of Ralen were known to be fast-growing. The huge, deep blue of the leaves of the talium tree were starting to turn yellow on the ends, a sign of the season change coming upon them. Soon the area would see temperature drops. And soon enough the primal heat would be upon many of the men.

Garon reached the tower and ascended the staircase. He entered to check in on the guards stationed there. They’d reported a craft on radar, and since no crafts were scheduled for arrival it had raised a red flag. Ralen wasn’t a planet offworlders dared to arrive at without proper protocol. The Ralen warriors were known to blow things out of the sky first and ask questions later. They were a proud, fierce race. A race known throughout the galaxy.

He leaned over one of the males to survey the screen and grunted as he spotted the shape of the vessel nearing their orbit. Cursed stars. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with today.

Lorne, a seasoned warrior and trusted friend, entered the guard tower. “I heard we have visitors. Any news on who or what they are?”

Garon tapped the screen. “Looks to be a salvage ship.”

“Or traders,” said Lorne, disgust evident.

None of the men were too keen on the salvagers but traders weren’t much higher on the like scale. Both were basically pirates of the skies and tended to deal in goods that were too hot to touch. Since Ralen boasted a planet of fierce warriors, they were often left untouched by the Galactic Guards—free to do as they pleased.

“Sir,” one of the men seated at his station said. “Should I alert the planet-to-air defense team?”

It was on the tip of Garon’s tongue to say yes, but he held back. He glanced to Lorne. “It’s been too many moon cycles since we last had a shipment of women. Think it could be some?”

Lorne worried his jaw and then tipped his head, his long, blond hair falling over one shoulder. “Perhaps. We could allow the vessel to land and see.”

Garon nodded in agreement. He touched the man’s shoulder at the station. “Open the landing platform two.” He looked to Lorne. “It would be wise if an armed team greeted the vessel.”

“Of course,” replied Lorne. “Jaston and his men are on duty now. I’ll send them.”

“Perfect. Tell them we’ll meet them there.”

Garon, Lorne said, using the mind path common to their kind. If women are aboard…

I know. I will see to it any price is paid.

With that Lorne pivoted and left the tower. Garon remained long enough to watch the slow descent of the vessel upon the screen before him. From its sluggish movements and shape he was fast beginning to suspect it was Voxenites, a race of opportunistic bottom feeders who did whatever they had to in order to turn a profit. They’d taken to human trafficking hundreds of years ago and little had been done to stop them. Truth was, planets such as Ralen depended upon them.

Ralenium males far outnumbered females, and nothing the men did lured women willingly to their planet. They were simply too far out on the edges of the quadrants to offer any appeal. They weren’t proud of the fact. It was what it was.

“Sir?” the man at the station asked. “Is it traders? With women?”

There was no mistaking the note of hope in his voice. Galen patted the younger warrior’s shoulder. “Let us hope. Stay and man the station. Should it be traders with women, a summons shall be sent forth.”

The other guards shared a look with the young one. Garon knew hopes would be high and he hated to dash them. The men needed something to look forward to.

He left the tower and made his way down the path in the direction of the landing bays. The outer force field was in the process of retracting. Its opening would be timed perfectly with the vessel’s landing.

While they had technologies, some of the finest in the galaxy, they preferred to do many things the way their ancestors of old did. They did not use any type of craft for surface travel on their planet. They preferred to use their shifted beast forms or that of domesticated animals. It was kinder to their planet.

They’d seen too many planets fall victim to their own advancements to want to see the beauty of Ralen snuffed out.

He spotted Lorne with Jaston and the team of Ralenium men all armed and surrounding the landing pad. They stayed back a safe distance, already knowing what would come next.

There was a flash of red light, and then a popping noise signaling the main control tower was now in control of the vessel’s power and its system. There was no chance the vessel could fire upon them this way and zero chance it could leave without permission.

Lorne motioned to Garon and then pointed to the vessel’s side symbol.

As Garon suspected—Voxenites.

If they came bearing anything other than women, they would find the men ready to hang them by their scaly, webbed feet. None of the Ralenium men thought much of the Voxenites. They were a means to an end. Nothing more.

The ship sputtered to a stop, its engines cutting out with a loud groan. Garon sighed. If the ship refused to start back up, there was no way the traders would be welcome to stay until it was fixed.


Garon moved with a quickened pace in the direction of Jaston and the other on-duty guard team. Jaston nodded and then hurried into the main control center.

If their suspicions proved true and the ship carried women, then it was a joyous day. If not, then the security team needed to be prepared. One never knew what one might encounter this far on the edges of the galaxy. Often the area was looked upon as lawless. Often it was.

Garon left the landing bays and entered the main control center and found Jaston near the monitor booth. The relays from the outer towers were no doubt reaching the main control center. Jaston glanced up and made eye contact with Lorne.

“Does Garon have orders?”

Lorne took a deep breath. “He does. Be prepared with your men and ready to greet our visitors.”

“Of course,” answered Jaston, his expression knowing. He relayed the message to one of the men closest to him and then covered the distance between him and Lorne. Jaston lowered his voice. “Traders with females?”

“Garon thinks perhaps it might be.”

Jaston’s jaw set. He nodded and stepped away.

Lorne knew the warrior would show no signs of hope. He knew Jaston was too seasoned to ever let on to his true feelings. All the men were desperate for more women to arrive. This wasn’t news. It was fact. None would risk getting their hopes up. Not yet.