Assassin of Gor (Gorean Saga, Book 5) by John Norman

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By John Norman

Welcome to Gor, a parallel Earth the place social norms are unique and how of lifestyles is brutal. within the 5th booklet within the Gorean Saga, the lethal murderer Kuurus is rationale on a bloody venture of vengeance. His event takes him from the caste of the pleasure-slaves, who're carefully informed within the principles and methods of sexual ecstasy, to the brutal arenas the place people perform lethal hand-to-hand wrestle. He witnesses violence, clash, and uncertainty, because the population of Counter-Earth are pressured to confront their destinies . . . irrespective of how exalted or debased.

Rediscover this brilliantly imagined global the place males are masters and ladies stay to serve their each hope.

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Additional info for Assassin of Gor (Gorean Saga, Book 5)

Sample text

Maybe Normandy coast. ” “Get out,” said Max, and cuffed him on the shoulder. Then he put his iPod buds in his ears, sank down in the passenger seat, and turned to gaze out the window, beating the rhythm of his music on the seat cushion with one hand. “Gimme that,” said Cara to Jax. “Hey! ” Jax said nothing, only shivered, so she let it go. Water coursed down the glass, and for the hundredth time she ran through the brief words of the note in her head. Have to go. Danger. What could it mean? Her mother didn’t exactly live on the edge; she was a biologist, after all, not a James Bond type.

It was all humps that looked like rocks. Whales were cool, but you could see more of them on nature shows. Still, it was probably better to be here than dragging around the mall while her dad asked her questions like Why do some of the boys wear their pants so ridiculously baggy, and the others wear them so tight? Jax pulled out his phone and took a picture. Ff Later, lying in bed, she had a long talk on her own cell phone—basic, not smart—with Hayley, in her own bed a few doors down the street.

He turned it over and over. “Uh, that’s great, Car. A piece of wood. ” She grabbed it back and studied it. It was dry now, and you couldn’t really see the words anymore—they must have been etched too lightly, because all that was left was a couple of lines where the C and K had been. They looked like random chicken scratches. 35 y Lydia Millet y “They’re gone,” she muttered. ” “The words. ” Max stopped putting his helmet on and looked at her curiously. Then he laid a hand across her forehead. “You cool?

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