Hi, my name is Nikita Slater and I'm the International Bestselling author of The Queens series, Fire & Vice series, The Sanctuary series, Driven Hearts series and several standalone novels. I've loved the written word my entire life and am an avid reader, as well as a writer. I live, eat and breathe books and I'm always working on something new!
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I live on the beautiful Canadian prairies with my son and crazy awesome dog. I have an unholy affinity for books (especially dark romance), wine, pets and anything chocolate. Despite some of the darker themes in my books (which are pure fun and fantasy), I am a staunch feminist and advocate of equal rights for all races, genders and non-gender specific persons. When I'm not writing, dreaming about writing or talking about writing, I love to help others discover a love of reading and writing through literacy and social work.

Only the strongest can survive in a hostile world ravaged by a disease that turns humans into primitives.

She is the Desert Wren, a rebel bent on providing safe passage to illegal refugees entering into her Sanctuary city. If she’s caught she’ll be executed, but the price is worth the privilege of doing what she knows is right. Except when she’s finally caught, the sentence isn’t death, it’s her freedom.

It’s the Warlord’s job to weed out the weak and sacrifice them for the good of the Sanctuary. Brutal and autocratic, he is the highest authority. The only threat to his dictatorship is a rebel faction rising up from the slums of his city. When he arrests a rebel leader, the Desert Wren, he sees his redemption. She will help him guide Sanctuary into the future. He just needs to convince his little captive that she’s better off with him than flying free.

What is the price of Sanctuary in a dying world and is it worth the sacrifice?


The Sanctuary Series

Grief hits me like a punch to the side of the head. A knife to the heart. A tearing in the soul. I freeze, standing over my wounded wife. I will myself to move. To drop to my knees in front of her and take her in my arms. To comfort her in her last moments of life. Instead I'm stricken, staring at her as time stands still, insulating us in a bubble of terror.


I want to reach out to her, call her name. The seconds tick by in my head, each precious moment lost to the overwhelming grief as she slowly turns. I look for signs. Look for the telltale red in her eyes as they turn hazy, turn inward, toward the Primitive. I glance at her hands, splayed out in the dirt. When she turns, they'll curl inward, into desperate claw-like devices. Soon she'll be writhing on the ground as every atom in her body changes. Twists into something new, reverting to her most primitive self.


Chapter 50: Diogo