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  CHAMPION

  (Radium Raiders, #1)

  by Olympia Queen

  BOOKS BY OLYMPIA QUEEN

  Radium Raiders’ Series

  Champion (Radium Raiders, #1)

  Outlaw (Radium Raiders, #2): July 27, 2018

  WARNING

  CHAMPION is a BBW Black woman and white alpha male biker erotica novelette (15,000 words total). It features explicit violence, strong language, and tantalizing sex not suitable for readers under the age of majority (18+ or otherwise). CHAMPION is told in the first person present tense alternating viewpoints between the heroine and the hero.

  #Science-fiction #BBW #Action-Adventure #Interracial #Biker #Alpha Male #Dominate

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  SYNOPSIS

  “We need each other,” he pauses, dragging his brown eyes from my chest to my lips, “In more ways than one.”

  Surviving the apocalypse is only the beginning for Arcadia Green, a sheltered curvy Black woman recently thrown to the wolves. After escaping from mutants, she falls into the arms of the white biker Jude Champion—the bad boy Alpha sergeant-at-arms of the Radium Raiders. He demands a reward for saving her from certain death. She’s happy to oblige to wait out the cold winter nights.

  Mad Max meets Sons of Anarchy in this thrilling new post-apocalyptic biker erotica series. Champion (Radium Raiders, #1) is 15,000 words of hot n’ heavy diesel-powered action.

  CHAMPION

  (Radium Raiders, #1)

  © 2018 Olympia Queen

  www.olympiaqueen.com

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format whatsoever without written consent from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are the products of imagination. A resemblance to the aforementioned is purely coincidental. If you did not obtain a copy of this work from Amazon.com, Inc., or their subsidiaries, please go back and purchase CHAMPION legally to support the author.

  Olympus Grove

  First Edition: June 2018

  eISBN-13: 978-1-946024-40-4

  Cover design by Pro Book Covers Studio

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Titlepage

  Books by Olympia Queen

  Warning

  Newsletter

  Synopsis

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Arcadia

  Chapter Two: Arcadia

  Chapter Three: Jude

  Chapter Four: Jude

  Chapter Five: Arcadia

  Afterword

  About — Olympia Queen

  Extras

  Sneak Peak

  For my Diesel-powered Kings & Queens

  ARCADIA

  I’d rather die than suck some mutant’s dick. I repeat that phrase mantra-like in my head. Sheer willpower keeps me running across the frozen tundra.

  Above me, a shapeless, ink-black sky stretches out infinitely. It’s soaked in radioactive carbon from a nuclear fallout that devastated Earth ten years ago. Behind me? A horde of horny half-dead mutants looking for some action. Why doesn’t their sex drive die when the radiation rots their brains? I may never know and I don’t want to find out so I keep on running. A big bitch like me isn’t built to be running Olympic marathons. But that’s what I’m doing, as fast as my thunder thighs and round ass will allow me through gale-force winds. I swat at my face as chunks of ice and snow smash into my goggles, blocking my vision.

  Last week I was sheltered from the chaos. Tucked away underneath the Earth in The ARC, I escaped the collapse of civilization. One fight with my local Underlord resulted in my exile. Now I'm forced to fend for my life above ground, defenseless. I’d heard stories about what it was like on Earth after D-Day. I’d seen with my own eyes the beginning of the nuclear apocalypse. But Mama and Papa always had more than a few screws loose. They’d been planning for the End of Times since the day I was born. When the bombs fell and the smoke cleared, my family dodged the worst of it. I use to long for freedom trapped underground. Now I wish I was curled up in Papa’s underground bunker in my Mama’s lap.

  “Ggraaaawwghoowl,” a mutant moans, flinging its body towards me. I dodge the creature but lose my footing in the sleet and snow.

  “Shit!” I shout, foot catching on a piece of rusted metal belonging to a hollowed out car. I tumble down a steep, snowy bank. The mutants are hot on my trail. A disembodied scream rings through the air. It takes me a few moments to realize it’s my voice and I’m in extreme pain. I’m in deep shit. Holy shit! Is this how it’s all going to end?

  “What the hell was that?” I scream into the void as an explosion rocks my ears. Next thing I know; a mutant’s decapitated head is flying over my head. Vicious streaks of blue-black blood splatter throughout the air. Some lands on my white modified windbreaker. The rest of the blood splashes my outstretched hands. I nearly vomit then and there, but I haven’t eaten in three days. With nothing on my stomach, there’s nothing to spill. The feeling of nauseous that overtakes me is probably worse.

  “GET BACK!” A male voice booms from above. I crank my neck upward until I see a tall figure in a jet-black radium suit. He brandishes his gun at the mutants left standing, cutting a lonely figure in the storm. Who’s come to save me? Where did he get a gun? I guess it doesn’t matter; thank God, Jesus, and Buddha whoever he is! I flip onto my stomach and try my best to be one with the Earth. The crack, crack, crack of his gun firing pierces the air. A sickening gurgling sound follows. I look up and find my mysterious hero slicing another mutant’s throat.

  “I need to get the fuck up out of here!” Gritting my teeth, I begin to crawl like a soldier until I hit an embankment of snow. There, I twist around until I’m sitting upright, taking in my situation. I’m unarmed, he’s heavily armed. There’s one, maybe two mutants still moving which is good. But what happens when he kills them? Is he my friend or…? Deciding I’m screwed either way, I make a last-ditch effort for escape. As I round the curved corner of piled snow, I come face to face with an oozing female mutant head. Screaming, I draw up and fall back. Seconds later, the gunman arrives. He crushes the mutant’s head underneath his charcoal colored boots.

  “You coming or what?” he snarls.

  I nearly jump out my skin. I recover long enough to ask him, “Who the hell are you.”

  “It doesn’t matter who I am. Mrsh tamo! Get up! We need to get moving,” he snaps.

  I blink slowly in disbelief before going wide-eyed as he stomps over impatiently. The stranger has a mini-arsenal strapped to his utility belt and a ski mask shielding his face. His gun is holstered, but his knife is still out and dripping with poisoned blood. I’m shaking before I know it, and to my shame, it’s not only from fear. The sight of another human sends me up and over the moon! He might be planning to gut me, but I’d rather die from a man’s blade then mutant dick any day.

  “Can you hear? I said you coming or what?” Again, that gruff voice. I clean my hands the best I can in the snow before standing up. I look up, and up, until my eyes and the gunman’s goggles align. He makes me feel petite.

  “Sorry, brother. Blood and guts started flying and my mind went out the back door. I’m—” He cuts me off with his free hand, sheathing his bloody knife with the other.

  “I don’t give a damn who you are! Come on! The storm’s getting rough and we’re not alone. Stay here if you want to freeze to death or come with me if you want to live.” He abruptly turns on his heels.

  He’s a rude bastard acting like an action-star from the 21st. He’s no
prince charming, but he’s all I’ve got in hell. After all, the gunman’s right. The winter winters are picking up, and where there’s harsh wind there’s a blizzard on its way. My flimsy suit won’t do jack-shit in ultra-sub-zero temperatures.

  “Wait for me,” I shout.

  I jog after him and find the gunman waiting at the very spot I slid down the hill. Together, we climb to the top. The stranger easily lifts himself over the snow. I pause at the final hurdle, embarrassed to admit I can’t pull myself over. To my surprise, he circles back and gets behind me, lifting me from behind over the hump of ice and snow. I can feel his muscles rippling beneath me and I shiver, not from the cold. Once I’m up and over, he pulls himself over the hill with ease. For all his bravado, the gunman might be a softie underneath.

  “Thanks…” I whisper, my voice scattering in the whipping wind. He says nothing as he slings his muscular thigh over his motorbike.

  “How—” I begin.

  “It’s diesel. The parts I didn’t have before D-Day I traded for or stole. That answer your questions?”

  “Yes?” It does and it doesn’t.

  “Look, I need you to focus; we need to find shelter fast. A Hellhound’s on my back.” He revs the engine and I shut up. He’s not in the mood for small talk. And, honestly, I’ll slap the taste out of his mouth if he’s short with me one more time. I take a long look at the snow-encrusted, beat up frame of his bike.

  “Champ…ion?” He stiffens.

  “…Get on or I’m leaving.” He reeves the engine again and takes out his helmet. I guess Champion is as good a name as any.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” I get on his bike, barely able to circle my arms around his massive chest.

  “Here. Lower. Hold on tight,” Champion orders over the roar of his engine. He unhooks my arms and guides one of my hands downward. Understanding what he means, I lock my arms together low on his waist, cupping his dick. Clinging to my savior, we glide across the tundra, leaving carnage and corpses behind.

  ☢☢☢

  The engine spits out black soot as we plow through the open valley. A clacking sound like a big wheel truck pops my eardrums. My body aches all over but somehow, I’m able to hang on. Unable to bear the sea of white any longer, I press my face into his back. Blinded, if only temporarily, I’m able to pretend that I’m still underground. I pray that we’ll be in a safe place soon. As I get settled, we come to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as he takes off his helmet. Champion pushes his ski mask up above his nose. I get my first look at his face. Damn if he isn’t every bit as handsome as his ripped body lead me to believe. I should be focusing on the bitter cold and the threat of freezing to death. Despite the risks, I can’t help but gawk at his sculptured face, ignoring the turmoil around us. The gunman glows with a metallic tinge. No doubt the product of a weather-resistant synthetic membrane he’s rubbed all over his skin. It makes me wonder who he was before the war to be able to afford such an expensive product. And, who he hangs around now if he stole it. His jaw is chiseled sporting a five-o’clock shadow with a small dimple in the middle of his chin. An equally small mole accentuates his thick lips on the corner of his mouth. He’s the very definition of drop dead gorgeous. If only he wasn’t an absolute asshole, I’d let him hit it right here in the freezing cold. Visions of me bent over his bike as he fucks me from behind fill my head. I lick my lips nervously as he unhooks my hands from his torso. Holding onto one of my hands, Champion cuts the engine and waits for something. A noise? A sign? Another brain dead mutant? I’m not sure what he’s waiting for but it doesn’t come.

  “…Champion? What’s wrong?” I’m starting to get worried.

  “Stop talking.” Frustrated by his dismissal, I yank my hand out of his. Two can play at the being a fucking asshole game! Climbing off the back of his motorbike, I get up and stretch my limbs. I bend over to check the nasty lump forming on my ankle. I can feel his eyes on my back. Ignoring his gaze for the most part, I do wiggle my ass a bit. If he likes what he sees, even if I annoy him, I can assure my ticket out of this icebox. Sex for food and shelter is a transaction I can justify right about now. I pull up and bend backward to crack my back before turning to face him.

  “Get down,” he says with a stern voice. When I don’t do so, he climbs off his bike and closes the distance between us. Before I can react, Champion spins me around, forces me to my hands and knees, and climbs overtop of me. Panic sweeps through me and fear overrides all reason. I start to thrash around, horrible images floating through my mind. He presses my body deeper into the snow, his hand separating my face from the ground. I exhale and start to hyperventilate. Champion covers my mouth, bending so his lips are pressed against my right ear.

  “Muchi!” He punctuates the foreign threat by squeezing my neck. I’m completely immobilized. Then, I hear a noise coming closer.

  “Ggraaaawwghoowl!” Mutants! And by the volume of their distinctive howling, a very large horde of them. I go still as the stranger and I wait for the worse to come.

  “Crawl,” he orders, pulling out his handgun. I start crawling the best I can, slipping on the ice as he covers me from behind. We make it back to the bike. I’m pressed to it and he crouches in front of me totally boxing me in. Champion removes the rest of his ski mask and his goggles. A set of mahogany brown eyes and cropped jet-black hair greet me. His thick eyebrows pinch together in the middle of his forehead. Champion’s face is expressionless despite the horde closing in on us. I yelp in terror as the familiar howls of the mutants grow closer and closer.

  “We have to run!” I try to stand but he won’t let me.

  “Ne.” I interpret that as no.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? There’s no way we can take that many on!” I press my hands against Champion’s chest. He responds by pulling out his blade and pressing the butt against my chest.

  “Ever use a knife before?” He asks.

  “N-no. Never...” Just on animals, I add mentally.

  “They’re not people.” He reads my mind. I nod and take the knife, clutching it with both hands.

  “No cuts?” It takes me a while to process the question.

  “No cuts! I’m not turning. The blood won’t affect me.” He seems satisfied with that.

  “Ok. Here’s the plan. You stay here and defend the bike. I’ll take out the first wave and gut the punk who’s chasing us—”

  “What punk?” I cut him off, terrified.

  “A Hellhound. You never heard of the Wasteland Kings? North Central? Have you been living under a rock?” It’s like he’s speaking Greek to me now!

  “I don’t know who they are or who you are for that matter! I just got here a week ago, brother. I’m lost.” Politics above ground society isn’t my area of expertise. Some terms are familiar like North Central, but Kings and Hellhounds mean nothing to me.

  “Forget it. Keep guard and keep slashing. We have to cut their numbers or we’ll never make it out of their stolen territory.” Champion stands. He puts his mask back on and snaps on his goggles.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea!” I stand with him, but my legs give out from fear. I struggle back up, using the bike for support. Readjusting my goggles, I see twin headlights flashing through the snow. Is this the punk he was talking about before?

  “There’s no point running. I’m running low on fuel; we’ll be overtaken within a mile. Fight or die.” I swallow hard. If he says his bike won’t make it, I have no choice.

  “Ggraaaawwghoowl,” their horrible groaning encircles us.

  It's followed by a man’s voice, crisp and clear, “Champion! Why’re you running? It’s time to play.”

  “Psychofuck.” Champion raises his gun and opens fire. At first, it looks like he’s hit nothing but air. Then, three mutant’s bodies come tumbling from the veil of white. Each has a hole through the center of their head. I fling myself back on the bike. I can’t tell my left from my right, but Champion hit three with a single
bullet?

  “You’re a one-man killing machine.” I crouch behind his bike as Champion gets to work. There are at least ten more of these bastards coming at us from the volume of their cries. But the snowstorm makes it impossible to track their movements. They just appear!

  “Champion!” A bullet slices the air and almost hits him in the knee. Before I can see if he’s hurt, a mutant is behind me.

  “Ahh!” I bring down the knife and hit it in the chest. It doesn’t go down so I keep slicing and slicing, stabbing and stabbing, until it falls to the ground. I turn around but Champion isn’t there. I circle the bike, screaming as a bullet slashes the material of my suit right below my arm. Falling to my knees, I almost give into despair when I hear an agonized cry.

  “Die!” I look up to see a stranger in a red radium suit being pummeled by Champion. He slams his fist into Redman’s face, over and over again. Champion cracks his goggles with the force of his fists. A mutant appears not too far from them and leaps on Champion’s back. Searching for a way to help him, I spot a gun almost swallowed by the snow not too far away. I scramble towards it, dropping the knife near the bike. Once I wrap my hands around the grip, I take aim and fire. The first shot misses both the mutant and Champion, hitting another creature in the knee.

  “Shit!” I try to fire again but this time the gun jams.

  “Come on! Come on!” I twist and shake the gun. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing or how to get it to work! I look up in time to see Redman’s right beside me. His face is oozing blood and he spits out what looks like a tooth. He’s even taller than Champion, and Champion isn’t a small man. I raise the gun though I know in my heart I don’t have the guts—or the ability—to fire.

  “G-get back!” my voice shakes.