“The Runaway” by Nephylim,
From Flying With Red Haircrow
“When all you ever wished for
is the last thing you ever wanted....”
- Title: The Runaway
- Author: Nephylim
- Publisher: Flying With Red Haircrow
- Publication Date: September 12, 2012
- Genre: Contemporary Romance, Gay
Interest
- Length: 290 pages
- ISBN: 9781301198573
- Available: Smashwords,
All
Romance Ebooks & soon other online distributors
- Book
Trailer
Description: “Ciarrai
is running away from a past that’s still breathing down his neck. Jack has no
past, his memory wiped in the accident that killed his parents. They meet and
their lives move forward like stones skimming the surface of the water, dipping
into memories that want to surface and those that want to lie buried forever.
Together, they struggle to come to
terms with what happened in the past and where they want to go in the future,
but can Jack cope with a man who likes to dress in leather mini-skirts and silk
kimonos? Can Ciarrai trust Jack with the secrets of his past; secrets he can’t
escape, secrets that are snapping at his heels?
When those secrets catch up, forcing
Ciarrai back to the life he’d left, a life that was slowly draining his life
away, he and Jack’s love is both threatened and tested by forces from without
and within.”
Excerpt
Sometimes, Jack wondered if the
whole falling in love thing was a product of the head injury, part of the not
remembering. Maybe he’d forgotten what falling in love was supposed to be like.
Maybe he had forgotten what kissing and holding and staring into beautiful eyes
should feel like. Maybe it was because there were no girls and Ciarrai was so
pretty and soft and… real. Maybe it was a lot of things but whatever it was, he
knew it was wrong.
If Ciarrai had been a girl,
would it have been so different? Would he have made a move? Said something? He
didn’t think so. Ciarrai was so different, so—beyond him. There was something
about him that made him…different. Special. Jack was fascinated, captivated,
but he knew Ciarrai would never feel the same about someone like him, someone
so…frightened and empty and…shut down. He wasn’t sure what love should be but
he had a good idea what it couldn’t be.
Yet, still he came. He couldn’t
stay away, and Ciarrai was always happy to see him. He was always welcoming,
always ready with a smile and a hug and a happy bounce, even when he’d been sad
before. Maybe it was just because he was so lonely, anyone would do. Maybe….
Jack sighed. His head was hurting from all the maybes. There were so many of
them in his life. Aunt Jane had brought him here to get away from the maybes,
from the pressure. He was supposed to just let things happen and not to think
too much about it, but how could he think about anything else?
He didn’t remember his parents
or the accident. That, at least, was a blessing. He didn’t think he could cope
with that, not yet. As much as he wanted to remember, he didn’t want to
remember that. It would help if he could remember himself, though.
The bright light grew closer and
he heard singing floating from the open window. Ciarrai sang well. Ciarrai did
everything well. He was precise and deft and fluid and, seemingly, fearless.
No one answered when he knocked
on the door, even when he knocked harder and harder. He knew the door would be
open but he was afraid to simply walk in. What if Ciarrai were naked or
something? Now that was an image that could burn itself into someone’s mind.
Shaking, he turned the handle and allowed the door to swing gently open.
“Ciarrai,” he called softly,
“Ciarrai are you there?”
What a stupid thing to say. Of
course he was there. Hadn’t he just heard him singing? Actually, he could still
hear him, and he could also hear the soft notes of some kind of music player.
Ciarrai often did that, turned down the music so he could sing over it. He
didn’t like to sing loudly. That beautiful voice wasn’t made for loud sounds.
“Ciarrai?” There was no reply.
He hadn’t really expected there to be, because Ciarrai got completely caught up
with the music and he wouldn’t have heard if a herd of elephants stampeded
through the house. The smell drifting through the hall suggested he was in the
kitchen and if he were cooking, he would be doubly absorbed.
Closing the door behind him,
Jack allowed himself to be drawn to the kitchen by his nose. When he opened the
door the smell hit him full in the face and it was amazing. Ciarrai was a good
cook but he didn’t generally spend much time on it, preferring to throw
something together from the freezer and the tins in the cupboard. Tonight, it
smelled as if he was making something spicy, curry maybe. Curries were one of
the few things Ciarrai liked to cook from scratch. They always tasted so good.
However, as soon as he set eyes
on Ciarrai he completely forgot about cooking. For a few moments he forgot
about breathing.
Usually, Ciarrai dressed
casually in jeans and t-shirt, with trainers. Sometimes he wore pyjamas around
the house when he wasn’t expecting anyone to come. They were black. What he was
wearing today wasn’t black. It wasn’t….
It was a multi-coloured silk
kimono. Delicate flowers wound their way along slender branches and cherry
blossoms fell like rain. The silk sighed and swayed as he moved, sliding over
the curves of his body in a way that made Jack feel tight. He’d caught up part
of his hair and secured it with a silver clip at the back of his head, while
the rest fell in golden waves, swishing when he turned his head. Jack bit his
lip.
Ciarrai seemed taller, somehow,
and it took a few minutes for Jack to realise he was wearing feathered, black,
high heeled slippers. Fucking shit.
“Ciarrai?” he croaked and
Ciarrai turned with a smile. His eyes were smoky dark, outlined with eyeliner,
the lashes unnaturally long. But it wasn’t his eyes that drew Jack’s attention.
It wasn’t even his flawlessly powdered and rouged cheeks. It was his cherry red
lips, curling slightly in a sweet smile, twisting his stomach and begging to be
kissed. What the fuck?
“Hey, Jack,” Ciarrai said
lightly, as if there was nothing wrong. “I was making curry. Do you want some?”
Jack couldn’t find his voice.
Neither could he take his eyes away from those lips, which were smiling broadly
now.
“I think maybe you could do with
a drink.”
Jack nodded dumbly and Ciarrai
drifted over to the wine rack. A bottle was already open on the counter. He took out another glass and filled it,
returning to hand it to Jack. He wasn’t walking but gliding, the silk swaying
and whispering sibilantly.
With an effort, Jack raised his
eyes from the cherry lips to the smoky eyes and swallowed hard. “What?” he
croaked. “What…?”
“What…?” Ciarrai asked with a
grin. Jack shook his head, his mouth dropping open at the husky purr in
Ciarrai’s voice. Then Ciarrai dropped the blatant flirtation and smiled a more
natural smile, handing Jack the wine. As he took it, he noticed the long, red,
lacquered nails. “I’m sorry,” Ciarrai said, laughing. “I’m being cruel. I just
couldn’t help it. Your face was a picture.”
“But why?”
“Why what? Why am I cooking
curry in a silk kimono?” Jack shrugged and Ciarrai continued. “Why not? I
didn’t think anyone was going to see me.”
“Do you…? Do you often…?”
“Wear a kimono? No, not often.
Only when I’m feeling….” Ciarrai trailed off. A dreamy smile touched his lips
as he stared into the distance, with a faraway look in his eyes. “When I want
to feel cool silk on my skin.”
“No. I meant…. I um…meant….”
For a moment, Ciarrai looked
puzzled, then he grinned. “Oh right,” he said. “You mean dressing like a
woman?”
“Yeah, that would be it,” Jack
said, recovering a little and taking a large swig out of his glass. He choked
and Ciarrai laughed again.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Why not? Like I said, I like
the feel of silk. I like wearing high heels. I like the way I look with makeup
on. I like the way I look in short skirts and suspenders. It makes me feel
sexy.” For a moment his face fell. “Not that there’s anyone to feel sexy for
anymore.” He shrugged. “Not that there ever was. It just makes me feel good,
for me.”
“So um…um…. Do you…? Are you…?
You’re not…not…?”
“Not what?” He giggled. “A
woman?”
“Um….”
“Er…no; no I’m not. I could
prove it if you like.” A wicked gleam lit Ciarrai’s sparkling blue eyes and the
look on his face made Jack think of a mouse between the paws of a cat. It was
almost predatory.
“No…no that’s fine. I…believe
you,” Jack said, shrinking back and almost falling off the stool. Ciarrai
laughed.
“So, do you like it?” he asked,
twirling and making the silken hair and silk kimono float around him. The heels
clacked on the tiles.
Jack swallowed, hard.
“I…guess….”
Ciarrai stopped and smiled a
gentler smile. “You don’t mind do you? I mean, does it make you feel
uncomfortable?” He looked uncertain, and Jack’s heart leaped.
“No…well yea, but not in the way
you think.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Ciarrai turned back to the stove
and Jack drank most of the glass of wine.
“So are you…?” he asked after a
long silence, during which Ciarrai had started to hum. “Are you…?”
“Am I what?” Ciarrai asked,
ladling curry onto plates, next to the mounds of rice.
“If you…. If you like
to…um…um…dress as woman, does that mean…? Does it mean you’re…?”
Ciarrai looked up and shrugged.
“I don’t think it means anything, except that I am what I am, and I’m not
afraid to show it.”
“I know but….”
Ciarrai tilted his head to one
side and gave him a calculating look. Then he shrugged again. “Am I a
transvestite? I guess—part time. Am I gay? Absolutely. Am I embarrassed or
ashamed? Absolutely not. I guess I’m just,” he paused, “me.” Shrugging again he
picked up the plates and set them on the table. “Come on. Let’s eat before it
gets cold.”
Jack found it difficult to eat.
It wasn’t that the food wasn’t good, it was. It was that he simply couldn’t
take his eyes off Ciarrai. His red lips wrapped around the fork and,
occasionally, a pink tongue darted out to lick sauce off them. The long white
fingers, with their shiny red tips, caressed the cutlery, or wrapped around the
stem of the wine glass. The long lashes fluttered, the silky hair swished and a
delicate, flowery perfume, switched his hormones into overdrive. He was
overwhelmed. He simply had no idea what to think, what to say, what to feel.
This was Ciarrai, his friend,
and yet…and yet it wasn’t. This person was some kind of magical creature, some
fey witch, come to steal away his senses, his mind. He ached to reach out and
touch him. Any part of him. Anything….
Ciarrai had always been
androgynous, and there’d been many times when Jack had been confused by it;
confused about the way he felt about it. There had been occasions when Ciarrai
had worn eyeliner, when his feminine side had been close to the surface, and Jack
could almost have believed…. But
this…this was….
“Are you alright?”
“Alright?” Jack repeated,
numbly.
“You’re not eating much and you
look pale.”
“I…. It’s…. It’s just….”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I forget.”
“Forget what?”
“Forget not everyone thinks and
feels like I do. I’ve kind of given up trying to work out what everyone else
expects so I kind of…. Now that I’m here, alone, I guess I’ve just…let myself
be me. I forget there’s anything wrong with it.”
“Wrong? Hell no. There’s nothing
wrong with it. It’s just…. I can’t….” He swallowed hard again and looked up to
find Ciarrai smiling, with such a strange look in his eyes.
“Are
you in love with me, Jack?” he asked, and Jack all but fainted.
About
The Author:
Born
into a poor but loving mining family in the United Kingdom, Nephylim grew up in
the beautiful and history rich South Wales Valleys, becoming the first in her
family to attend university. As a lawyer practicing Family Law for several
years, the profession allowed Nephylim to learn more about human nature at its
worst and best moments, and develop empathy and a view of life not limited by
social standing or background.
Tapping into the heritage of her people that throughout Earth's ages welcomed the wandering bard into the hearts of their villages as keepers of lore, Nephylim trained as a Druid and brings the richness of her Celtic past and spiritual training to enrich and elevate her writing. Since a child Nephylim has been fascinated with other worlds, which exist within and alongside her own and has reveled in creating worlds and characters for others to enjoy.
Despite lack of family support, Nephylim continued writing privately and eventually found the Gay Authors website. With the positive response and a warm welcome received, she found the confidence to pursue her passion to a greater degree. Feeling gay fiction was a woefully neglected corner of the market where readers were all too often presented with what amounted to erotica, Nephylim strives to write quality gay fiction where sex and sexuality is not the central premise. Instead, concentration is given to character and narrative development through storytelling that goes beyond the physical.
Nephylim still resides in Wales, UK, and enjoys writing, reading, art, and taking part in medieval reenactments.
Tapping into the heritage of her people that throughout Earth's ages welcomed the wandering bard into the hearts of their villages as keepers of lore, Nephylim trained as a Druid and brings the richness of her Celtic past and spiritual training to enrich and elevate her writing. Since a child Nephylim has been fascinated with other worlds, which exist within and alongside her own and has reveled in creating worlds and characters for others to enjoy.
Despite lack of family support, Nephylim continued writing privately and eventually found the Gay Authors website. With the positive response and a warm welcome received, she found the confidence to pursue her passion to a greater degree. Feeling gay fiction was a woefully neglected corner of the market where readers were all too often presented with what amounted to erotica, Nephylim strives to write quality gay fiction where sex and sexuality is not the central premise. Instead, concentration is given to character and narrative development through storytelling that goes beyond the physical.
Nephylim still resides in Wales, UK, and enjoys writing, reading, art, and taking part in medieval reenactments.
Author
Links:
Interviews
with the author:
About the Press:
Opening
its doors on October 31, 2010, Flying
With Red Haircrow is an independent publisher and writer cooperative with a
large range of interests and possibilities who entreats everyone to, “Dance above the surface of the world. Let
your thoughts lift you into creativity that is not hampered by opinion.”
We
publish: Literary Fiction, Poetry, GLBTIIQ Fiction, Fantasy (Dark, Epic,
Speculative), Multicultural, International, Memoir, Psychology, Sociology and
more. For those interested in being a part of our team, have proposals or
offers, please visit our website for more details.
REVIEW
Amazon
Five
Stars
http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/AWANV5IBDLCBN/ref=cm_cr_pr_pdp
Ciarrai
is running away from a life he didn't choose, a life of fame, fortune and
constant unwanted attention. He finally breaks away but freedom isn't all he
thought it would be. A chance encounter brings Jack into his life. They heal
eachother and Ciarrai is finally able to find himself, to be the person he
never knew he was. Then his past finds him, and he leaves Jack rather than
subject him to the life he hates.
I
almost don't know where to begin. This book has given me some things to think
about. Like, what does fame really do to young people unprepared to handle the
attention aka Lindsey Lohan. Why is it so difficult to accept people who are
different? Why do we judge those who dress differently or love people of the
same sex? Beyond making me think, this is a quite beautiful love story between
two fragile people. Don't let the description scare you away, this book is well
done, there's romance, a bit of suspense, and lessons learned.
The
author kindly shared this story with me. I have in turn have left this honest
review.
Goodreads
Five
Stars
The
story, like the fairy tale in the prologue is simply magic!
Characters:
Jack- A
man who is struggling through his present, trying to dive into the lake to get
at his sunken, lost past; only managing to skim the surface with the stones he
throws into it and
Ciarrai-
A man who is struggling to live in the present trying to stay on the surface,
to get rid of his past, but only managing to sink all the stones he throws in
no matter how much he tries otherwise.
Nephy
put them together, discussing techniques, secrets, and their lives, and we
manage to see the struggle both of them are trying to make their way through.
Somehow they’re fighting the same demon: their past, just from two opposite
ends. Each of them strong to the other, but self depreciating.
Sunk in
depression, Jack latches on to the phenomenon that is Ciarrai; slowly but
steadily getting his life back on track. In return all he can hope is Ciarrai
will be there if his past comes back to haunt him.
Instead,
its Ciarrai’s past that catches up with them, tears them apart and leaves us in
anguish.
There
is so much beauty in life: some of it meant to be experienced, some of it just
to be admired, and some, just to be left untouched. The Runaway shows us how so
many lives can easily be destroyed when we don't really categorise the forms of
beauty properly.
There
is love, drama, silk, leather, angst and a healthy dose of manipulation in this
remarkable novel that takes us for an unforgettable ride through the life of a
remarkable man, the Runaway.
I wish
I could have given it more than 5 stars, but... yeah!
Kudos
again Nephy!
