He is Savage. Dominant. Primitive. I am slave to his instinct.
In the year 10,442, humanity is a space faring race.
We do not have sex, and we certainly do not breed.
I am an observer, a young woman alone in space, being punished for her sins. My sentence is to observe a remote planet where it is rumored an old Earth ship crashed thousands of years ago. According to records, there were no survivors.
The records were wrong.
While in orbit around the planet, I am hit. My shuttle crashes.
Zion, the beast of a man who pulls me from the wreckage and sets about making me his own does not know that my people do not engage in sexual activity. He doesn't understand that reproduction is expressly forbidden. All he knows is that he wants me.
My untouched body will be his in every way imaginable. He will mate me over and over. He will fill me with his seed until my belly swells. When I defy him, I will be punished shamefully and thoroughly until I give him the submission he demands.
But there are even more dangerous things in the universe than Zion. My people will come for me, and when they do, even my primitive beast of a man might not be enough to save me from their wrath.
It's just as well Loki Renard became an author because other career paths proved disastrous. She was once thrown out of someone's house for trying to sell them citrus based cleaning product, and her brief brush with corporate life ended when she wrote profiles for her fellow employees likening them to various feral animals then attempted to negotiate the idea of not coming into the office and getting paid anyway. Perhaps if she'd had the dedication to slug herself in the face a la Fight Club, things might have turned out differently.