NEW RELEASE Midnight Twist, by Rian Durant

Title: Midnight Twist

Author: Rian Durant

Genre: Paranormal, Romance, Comedy

Pages: 54

Publisher: Nine Star Press

Buy links: NineStar Press || Amazon.com || Amazon.co.uk || Smashwords

Blurb

Jaydon can’t afford to lose a bet he’s made, so when the sweet as sin Eluin offers him The Contract, it may be exactly what he needs. Or is it? Things get a little twisted with the cheeky demon being around. The number of demons in Jaydon’s apartment grows, with Eluin’s big brother Eluel and his wayward lover Sam showing up. The couple is at a breaking point in their own on/off relationship and this time getting back together seems as probable as hell freezing over.

Excerpt

It all started with an espresso machine, even though I’d seen him drinking espresso only once in all the time we knew each other. Then he complained for three days that he hadn’t tasted such swill in his whole life. The fact that I’d made it for him with all my love didn’t cause him to show an ounce of tact. I felt in my gut it was a tremendous mistake to enter the mall, but even if I’d tried to avoid it, I doubt he would’ve taken my opinion into account. He would’ve thrown a temper tantrum of magnificent proportions, which wasn’t a pretty sight. I’d been a witness and a victim of such antics once, only it was in front of a restaurant, which I hadn’t dared come close to ever since. The glowing look in his eyes while we passed by the shop windows made my heart sink, because I couldn’t afford most of the things he stared at, especially with the plans we had for the rest of the week. My lovely boyfriend possessed a seductive appearance and a good heart, but his perceptions were terribly distorted due to eighteen years of systematic spoiling at the hands of his parents. He used to reassure me this wasn’t going to come between us since he was madly in love with me, but he couldn’t be further from the truth. After the ironic remarks I had been subjected to in the past few weeks, I knew I wasn’t going to get away with it. I didn’t want to lose him, but it was clear that if I didn’t overcome my financial issues, his love for me would vanish into thin air together with his rebellious spirit, and he’d settle with any of the “appropriate partners” his parents tried to match him with. Once, one of his father’s business tycoon friends with his three hot lovers landed in front of my door and pounced on me, obviously not familiar with the appearance of his intended chosen one. I led a fierce battle using all means possible, which ended up being the shoehorn lying next to the shoes at the front door, in order to preserve my honor. Things deteriorated when Lyte came out of the bathroom in his short, sexy bathrobe to check why I was wreaking such havoc. We had to barricade the door and listen to a serenade for more than an hour before the police came to take them away. I turned to Lyte with a smile, intending to remind him of that time the tycoon came calling, but when I caught his hand, he didn’t react at all. He had already seen it. He gazed at the window with an oblivious smile, and then raised his finger and pointed at it. A second later he issued a brief statement with a determination I’d rarely heard in the voice of another human being. “I want it!”

Hey, nice to meet you!

I’m Eluin, a third level demon *jumps elegantly off a table*.  Why a third level you might ask? Well, I flunked a subject or two at the demon prep courses because it was so much more interesting to cut classes and run off to do tricks. Not big ones, mind you. Stealing socks from people’s laundry so that one of a pair is left or filling up mint candy with wasabi were my favorites. Also, instead of making mischief between people I kind of preferred to make them get naughty with each other if you know what I mean.

Long story short, I ended up third level, which implies I still have some apprenticeship to do and I don’t have an iPad *sniffles* so I must carry all this paper around but… Never mind. Let’s not complain. 

“Strong, sexy demons don’t complain.”- article one hundred seventy-six, point three, note eight of our codex. 

Am I’m a strong sexy demon? Mhmmm. Check this out:

Just kidding! LOL! That’s Sam, my brother’s on/ off sweetheart.

This is me:

I change my eye and hair colors a lot but that’s how Jaydon likes me the most. Who’s Jaydon? Oh, he was just a guy whose soul I was supposed to harvest but sometimes things don’t turn exactly the way you planned…

If you want to know our story and see what happened and have some fun with Jaydon, my brother and Sam, be my guest. We have coffee and cinnamon cookies. 

Author Bio

Rian Durant is a writer roaming the MM fiction sphere but doesn’t like being confined by (sub)genres and categories. The only rule she believes in when it comes to life, love and writing is to do everything with passion or not at all. Links: Facebook https://www.facebook.com/riandurantauthor/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/rian_durant Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rian_durant/ Blog: https://riandurant.wordpress.com/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14370031.Rian_Durant

NEW RELEASE Lifesaver by Kazy Reed

12,000 words

Contemporary Romance

Sales Link

BLURB

Working on a gay cruise ship seemed like a dream come true for Isaac Yates. What could be better than being in the midst of a boatload of sexy men at sea, most of them looking for love? But Isaac’s dream becomes a nightmare when a horrifying reminder of a past he wanted to forget shows up and wants Isaac as much as ever. Plus Isaac’s found the perfect man, but how can this gorgeous stranger love him when he can’t even love himself?

Will the chance of love save Isaac from his past?

EXCERPT

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "Sorry, Robert. I'll get back to my shift now. I shouldn't have cut out like that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Screw your shift, you idiot."

"Huh?" I said numbly.

My exasperated boss shook his head in disgust. "I meant why are you letting him walk away? Here's your chance, Yates, to leave all that shit in the past and try and find real happiness. Look, I may not be gay, but I've been around these ships enough to recognize real emotion when I see it. He likes you, Isaac. For Christ's sake, go after him."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kazy Reed grew up on a small island off the Maine coast. At the age of sixteen, she announced to her parents that she was going to move to Denmark for six months as an exchange student. That trip changed her life, and sparked her love of travel, languages, and art history.

After graduating from college with a degree in Art History, she moved back to the island where she began to write short stories. When she was introduced to gay erotic fiction, the seed was planted and she never looked back.

Kazy now lives near the coast of Maine, with her very understanding husband and two ridiculously precocious children.

Website: http://www.kazyreed.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorkazyreed
Twitter: http://twitter.com/avampwriter
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/kazyreed/
Tumblr: http://mensfashionarchive.tumblr.com/
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/vampwriterblog/

RELEASE DAY Opening Act by Cheryl Headford and Stephanie Danielson

Sales Link

Stephanie Danielson and I are very proud to present Book 1 in our Upstaged series which currently runs to 12 books. The story follows an up and coming band, The Von from their first, less than successful practices, to the tremendous pressure of superstardom. 

Meet, 

Erik Von Nordgren, lead singer. and cock-of-the-roost

Billy Carp, drummer. Long-time friend and one-time lover of Erik.

Joey Miller, guitar. A typical teen with a laid-back philosophy and a friendly manner.

Daisy Berkley, guitar. A true English rose and Joey's girlfriend. Sweet and gentle she hides a bed of thorns that are more than ready to meet anyone who crosses her friends, or even worse, 

her brother.

Asher Berkley. He's Daisy's twin brother. Not in the band but there to support Daisy. From the very first, the snarky Brit gets right under Erik's skin and stays there.

For more information visit The Von backstage with your very own Backstage Pass

BOOK NAME Upstaged I – Opening Act

AUTHORS S L Danielson and Cheryl Headford

PUBISHED BY Extacy Press

WORD COUNT Aprox 75,000

NUMBER OF PAGES 246

GENRE New Adult. Contemporary Romance.

HEAT RATING 3 

Blurb

Wannabe singer and band frontman Erik Von Nordgren hates snarky brit Asher Berkley with a passion. From the moment he turns up at practice with his twin sister Daisy, who is one of the band the two have hated each other.

Through a series of 'tit for tat' incidents they annoy, frustrate and exasperated each other. The die hard goth with purple eyes and the hard core rocker with dreams of the big time have nothing in common and no need to cross paths. Except to wind each other up.

Until the day that Erik throws Asher in the school pool, when everything begins to change. Erik is so far in closet he's in Narnia and Asher has a dark past and trust issues that stand in the way of any relationship, let alone one with the brash American who hurts him every time they try to get together.

A relationship doomed from the start, or so you'd think. 

Wednesday Briefs The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 7

Our Owen has got himself into more hot water than he can imagine. Not only is Aggie on his case but Bran's father is now putting his tuppence worth in and it's all going south fast. Of all the things the thought might happen next, this didn't even enter the equation,

“What’s wrong?” Owen immediately caught the change in atmosphere and frowned at the expression on his grandmother’s face.
“What did he tell you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What did he tell you of himself, of his nature?”
“Well, he told me his name. He wasn’t too happy when he thought I was mocking him.”
“Mocking him? Are you insane boy? What have I told you about names? They are even more important to fey. They are sacred, powerful. You do not mock a fey’s name – not if you value your life.”
“I wasn’t mocking his name,” Owen shot back indignantly. “I was just pointing out that it wasn’t a name I would have given to someone as pale as he is. Crows are black.”
Aggie closed her eyes and shook her head, making disapproving, sucking sounds.
“It’s alright. He wasn’t offended. He just said that humans are too concerned with how things look on the outside, and we should be more worried about how they are on the inside. Then he turned into a crow, pulled out a couple of feathers and flew away. What’s the big drama?”
Aggie didn’t answer. She turned back to the stove and stirred the stew.
“Why am I in trouble?”
Aggie didn’t answer. Her back was an impenetrable wall of disapproval.”
“Gran?”
Aggie sighed, then turned brandishing a wooden spoon. “You are a foolish, foolish boy. Before this is done you will be broken. You should have listened to me. Nothing good ever comes from associating with the fey folk.”
Owen narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t think it would work, did you? You never thought for one minute the fey would do anything but play with me.”
“What makes you think he isn’t?”
Aggie pursed her lips and turned away again.
“How could you do that? Why did you do that? You let me believe I had a chance.”
“I let you make your own mistakes. You certainly weren’t listening to me.”
“You’re unbelievable, do you know that? You….” Owen huffed and stormed upstairs.
Half an hour later he was back, sitting at the kitchen table, twisting a mug. Even though it was the early hours of the morning, Aggie was still bending over the range. This time, the smell of bread permeated the tiny kitchen.
“So, what do I do now?”
“I think you’ve done quite enough.”
“Don’t be like that. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“One day you will realize the world does not revolve around you, Owen Prentis, and that not every world is the same and follows the same rules. There are more worlds than you could imagine, no more than a heartbeat away, and you would blunder through them all with your human ideas of right and privilege.”
“I am not….”
“Be quiet.”
Owen’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Aggie very rarely got truly angry, and when she did the only thing to do was keep silent and ride it out.
“You have no idea of the danger you’ve put yourself in. By giving you his name, the fey has bound himself to you. There’s no walking away now.”
Owen’s heart soared, then crashed at the expression on Aggie’s face.
“There will be a price. There is always a price, and I hope with all my heart you have the means to pay.”
Owen swallowed. “What kind of price?”
“It’s too late to wonder now. Better you had asked before you committed yourself.”
“I haven’t committed to anything.”
“Perhaps not in your world, but you have in his and which world do you think holds sway in these hills? You can argue until you’re blue that their rules don’t apply to you, or that you can’t be bound by something you didn’t agree to, but that won’t save you. You’re his now and what comes of it will come whether you want it or not.”
“I want it.”
Aggie growled. “Fool boy. Go to bed. There’s nothing you can do now but hope whatever is to happen comes swiftly.”
Owen went up to his room, but he couldn’t sleep. He lay, fully clothed, on his bed gazing out of the open window at the moon. For the first time, he truly regretted what he’d done. He wished with all his heart he’d listened to his grandmother.
Owen must have fallen asleep at some point because he opened his eyes to sunshine, bright in his eyes. He blinked. Something wasn’t right. He blinked again, and something moved between him and the window, blocking the sun.
Owen sat up so fast his head swum. “What the hell?”
“Good day, human.”
“Bran? What are you doing here?”
“You speak as if I’m not welcome in your home.” Bran tossed his hair and frowned but amusement tightened the corners of his lips and his eyes sparkled.
“No, it’s not that. Of course you are. How did you get in?”
“The window is open.” He waved his hand as if that should have been too obvious to question.
“You climbed…? Oh, of course not. You flew.”
Bran laughed aloud. “You are funny, human.”
“Do you want to sit down? Just put the book off the chair onto the floor.”
Bran glanced around and wrinkled his nose. “I can’t stay. I have come to bring a summons.”
The word summons rung with an ominous echo is Owen’s head, and he shivered. “What do you mean? A summons to where?”
“To my father’s court.”
Bran wandered around, idly picking things up, glancing at them, then putting then down again.
“But how…? What does he want? How do I get there?”
Bran put down what he was holding and faced Owen. He grinned. “Come to the lake at midnight. My father wishes to discuss the terms of our betrothal.”
“Our what?”
“Did you think my father would allow me to walk the land without evidence of your commitment and worth?”
“But…but…. You want me to marry you?”
Bran’s laughter fell like silver rain. “I want you to ask me. It is my father’s decision if he will permit me to accept.”
“I…but, I… I’m not…”
“Tonight at midnight.”
Before Owen could say another word, Bran had gone and the crow, clinging to the window sill gave a single caw before launching into the sky. Owen stood at the window watching it fly and thinking Oh fuck.

Go check out the rest of the briefers. There's a good selection this week

Wednesday Briefs

COMING SOON!! On 30th March 2018 Upstaged I Opening Act

COMING SOON TO A KINDLE NEAR YOU!!

THE FIRST INSTALLMENT OF AN EPIC ROMANCE THAT SPANS TWELVE BOOKS AND TWO GENERATIONS. 

ONE BRASH AMERICAN

ONE SNARKY BRIT

ONE UNCLE WITH DUBIOUS CONNECTIONS

ONE ITALIAN COUSIN 

ONE IRISH COUSIN

ONE HELL OF A LOT OF SEXY TEENS

ONE BAND

ONE ROCKSTAR

ONE BROKEN ARTIST WITH PURPLE EYES AND A WICKED FASHION SENSE

TWO VERY DIFFERENT PEOPLE

ONE LOVE THAT SPANS THE DISTANCE

Sales Link http://www.extasybooks.com/978-1-4874-1804-5-opening-act/

BOOK NAME Upstaged I – Opening Act

AUTHORS S L Danielson and Cheryl Headford

PUBISHED BY Extacy Press

WORD COUNT Aprox 75,000

NUMBER OF PAGES 246

GENRE New Adult. Contemporary Romance.

HEAT RATING 3

Blurb

Wannabe singer and band frontman Erik Von Nordgren hates snarky brit Asher Berkley with a passion. From the moment he turns up at practice with his twin sister Daisy, who is one of the band the two have hated each other.
Through a series of 'tit for tat' incidents they annoy, frustrate and exasperated each other. The die-hard goth with purple eyes and the hardcore rocker with dreams of the big time have nothing in common and no need to cross paths. Except to wind each other up.
Until the day that Erik throws Asher in the school pool when everything begins to change. Erik is so far in the closet he's in Narnia and Asher has a dark past and trust issues that stand in the way of any relationship, let alone one with the brash American who hurts him every time they try to get together.

A relationship doomed from the start, or so you'd think. 

NEW RELEASE Souls for Sale by Asta Idonia

Souls for Sale

Asta Idonea

NineStar Press

26 March 2018

MM/Paranormal

When demon Saul persuades comic book artist Tom to sign over his soul in exchange for a night of passion, little does he know what lies in store. Demons can’t fall in love—or so he’s been told—but he finds himself smitten and attempts to destroy the contract, desperate to save Tom from an eternity of torture.

With Saul and Tom forced to run, a showdown between Heaven and Hell ensues as the angels and demons argue over who owns Tom’s soul. But does either party have a stronger claim than Saul?

SoundCloud Audio Excerpt 

YouTube Audio Excerpt

Tablo Excerpt

NineStar Press

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Kobo

B&N

Author Bio & Links

Asta Idonea (aka Nicki J Markus) was born in England but now lives in Adelaide, South Australia. She has loved both reading and writing from a young age and is also a keen linguist, having studied several foreign languages.

Asta launched her writing career in 2011 and divides her efforts not only between MM and mainstream works but also between traditional and indie publishing. Her works span the genres, from paranormal to historical and from contemporary to fantasy. It just depends what story and which characters spring into her mind!

As a day job, Asta works as a freelance editor and proofreader, and in her spare time she enjoys music, theatre, cinema, photography, and sketching. She also loves history, folklore and mythology, pen-palling, and travel, all of which have provided plenty of inspiration for her writing.

Blog: http://www.nickijmarkus.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/NickiJMarkus

Twitter: https://twitter.com/NickiJMarkus

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nickijmarkus/

Pinterest: https://au.pinterest.com/nickijmarkus/

Google+: https://plus.google.com/+NickiJMarkusAstaIdonea

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4567057.Nicki_J_Markus

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/nicolamarkus

Amazon Author US: http://www.amazon.com/Asta-Idonea/e/B00RMGGVYO

Amazon Author UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Asta-Idonea/e/B00RMGGVYO

Wednesday Briefs The Fairy of Beacon Lake Part 6

It's been a bit of a nightmare recently with my computer going down, coming up, then going down again. It's been basically a month since I've had a computer properly working. Fingers crossed we're over the bumps and I can get back to the grind properly. Let's start with a bit of lightning.

Bran frowned, a puzzled expression replacing the hurt and anger. Then he smiled, and it was as if the moon had slipped, silver and full, from behind dark clouds. His smile was brighter than a candle flame and his eyes were bluer than ever. “Why do you think my name has anything to do with colour?” he asked, the light in his eyes dancing with mischief. “It has always amused me how humans attach so much importance to things that have none and fail to see the importance of things 

that do. Beware, human, not everything is as it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

“You place such great importance to the colour of the skin, but so little to what lies beneath. Take a lesson from me – one’s worth does not lie in the tint of the skin or the silver in the pocket, but in honour and truth. What lies beneath your skin, human?”

Owen shrugged. “Just my heart. Good I think. What about you? Are you light or dark? Dark Sidh?”

Bran laughed and shook his head. “Neither dark nor light, human boy. I am water. I am the lake.” He tilted his head to one side. “Humans have such strange notions. Do you believe water is evil?”

“Of course not.”

“Yet it can kill. It can wear away mountains and swallow whole towns. It can wash away foundations and drown the strongest swimmer.”

Owen shivered as Bran’s words seemed to echo from the mountains themselves. Magic pressed in on him but he shook it off. “But it gives life, too. We can’t last long without it.”

Bran smiled and the heaviness lifted from the atmosphere.

“Indeed.”

“So, what now? Will you come out of the water so we can talk.”

“Talk? Is that what you wish, human? Just to talk?”

Hot blood rushed to Owen’s cheeks, and his eyes were drawn inexorably toward Bran’s groin. He swallowed, and forced his gaze back to Bran’s face.

“For now.”

Bran laughed again, then sobered. “I cannot leave the lake; at least not in this skin. I cannot set foot on land.”

“What do you mean “In this skin”?”

Bran grinned and then he was gone.

Owen took a step back in shock and gazed around wildly. A caw snapped his head back and his breath caught when he saw a bird plummet down toward the surface of the lake, to pull up at the last moment and skim the surface until it rose again to circle Owen’s head before landing on a rock close to the water’s edge. With another caw it began to preen, straightening shimmering feathers and allowing Owen time to wonder over it. It was undeniably a crow – no, too big for a crow; a raven - 

with a sharp beak and beady eyes that seemed to watch him even as the bird continued its grooming.

“Bran?” Owen said, cautiously approaching the rock.

The bird cawed again, then launched itself into the air in a flurry of feathers, leaving one or two lying on the rock. Stunned, Owen picked them up. They were long and sturdy, their ends dipped in silver.

“Bran?”

The raven had disappeared. Even though Owen squinted and searched the sky and surface of the lake, nothing moved. “Bran,” he called again, feeling empty. Surely this wasn’t it. A handful of feathers couldn’t be all he’d be left with; all he had to show for what had just happened.

After an hour wandering the lake shore, the sky darkened as clouds drew across the moon. Fifteen minutes later, the first lightning bolt struck the lake, and thunder rolled down the mountain bringing rain that pierced Owen like slivers of glass. Within minutes he was soaked to the skin. He had to admit to himself that Bran wasn’t coming back, and he stomped home, cursing under his breath. The feathers were thrust deep into his pocket and, frankly, he didn’t care if the bent or broke. In truth, that was what he’d dearly like to do to Bran’s neck, if only to wipe that self-satisfied, holier-than-though, smirk off his face.

Aggie didn’t say a word, only thumped a mug of strong coffee and a bowl of stew onto the table. It was only then that Owen realized how cold he was.

“Don’t say a word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Owen took a sip of the coffee, then slammed down the mug. “He’s so goddam smug. He thinks he knows everything, and he keeps calling me “human”.”

“That is what you are.”

“I know but…” Owen sighed. “It’s the way he says it.”

“And how does he say it?”

“Like it’s something less.”

“Less than what?”

“Than him. Like he’s better than me.”

“Do you think he is…better than you?”

“No. Of course not. He’s different but not better.”

“Then does it matter what he thinks? You have no control over what happens inside his head. Let him think he is better, until he learns he is not.”

“Hmm.”

Owen took the feathers out of his pocket and smoothed them out on the table, brushing the vanes to straighten them and have the barbs reconnect. The silver was bright in the dimness of the fire-lit kitchen.

“What do you have there?”

“Feathers.”

Busying herself stirring the stew, Aggie had her back to him, but he knew she was desperately trying to appear as if she wasn’t really interested. He smiled. He knew her better than she thought.

“Kind of. He pulled them out when he was preening.”

The spoon dropped with a clang of metal on metal and Aggie spun. “He did what?”

“Preening. He turned into a bird; a crow. His name is Bran.”

Aggie’s hand fluttered in front of her lips. “He gave you his name,” she whispered. “Boy, you have no idea how much trouble you’ve got yourself into.”

Now it's time to go check out the rest of the talented crew that makes up the Wednesday Briefers

Wednesday Briefs

Wednesday Briefs. The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 5

I can't believe it's been a whole week. There goes my intention of writing at least a couple of blog posts every week, I blame it all on my friend, Anna Marie. She has got me into researching my family history. I'm sure that no one who has spent time with an autistic person will know about "obsessions". Writing is one of mine and it's the only one that has been a constant with me. Others come and go, an overwhelming compulsion while the fire is hot, then waning to nothing after weeks, months or even years. While the compulsion is on me I can't think of anything else. It dominates my mind and I don't know how to do things by halves.

In a matter of three or four weeks I have used almost 200 plastic pockets, each with a profile of a family member, compiles endless lists and drawn up dozens of family trees, colour coded and indexed of course. Sigh. Writing is taking a back seat for the moment. I'm hoping I'll run out of steam - or ancestors - soon. In the meantime, at least I have my little fey

The moon, just past full, was still a bright disc, brushing the top of the mountains, before dipping down to hold court at the end of a silver-blue carpet, richer than any red carpet ever was. A light wind brushed the surface of the lake, raising ripples like goosebumps on the water and on Owen’s arms. He shivered and gazed out over the choppy water and signed, turning the loaf of half-baked bread in his hand. He hadn’t bothered to put it in a box this time. To be honest, he felt like throwing it into the water, or right at the face of the arrogant faery.

Yesterday’s experience had been even worse than the day before. The faery had thrown the over-baked bread away, scorning Owen’s choked words – Over baked bread to represent the hard wall of our differences, that stand between us. The silvery peals of his laughter endured to follow Owen home. For a second time he’d ranted at Aggie and had endured another lecture about foolishness.

This was his last chance, and despite Aggie’s reluctant assurances, he wasn’t hopeful. He went over the words in his head and sighed. They meant no more to him that the previous days had.

The bread was still slightly warm and Owen hugged it to his chest. The weather was turning and there was a definite chill to the air. The summer was almost over, as was his pursuit of the elusive fey. He’d promised himself, and Aggie. that tonight would be the last attempt, and it was a promise he meant to keep no matter how much it cost him. He’d go home and forget he’d ever met the arrogant little shit. He snorted aloud. Right. And who was he kidding? He sighed again, eager to get it over with and back to his warm bed.

The glow from the lake’s heart caught him by surprise, but not so much as the speed with which the fey rose and sped toward him, stopping little more than arm’s reach away. As before, he was naked, his long, slender body on full display. Owen’s eyes roved downward and he licked his lips. Magic reached for him and his mind began to sink into it.

Then, the fey held out his hand and demanded imperiously. “My gift, human. I hope you’ve made more of an effort this time.”

Anger snatched Owen’s consciousness out from under the blanket that sought to smother it.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he yelled.

The shocked fey blinked, seeming for a moment to be both much younger and immeasurably older than he had before.

For a breath’s space, Owen was unsure if he wanted to go ahead. Perhaps Aggie was right and the fey presented more trouble than he was worth. However, the flash of vulnerability he’d caught in the fey’s glance tugged at him. The spell was gone, the glamour fallen away and somehow the fey was more real, more approachable, and lovelier than ever.

He thrust the loaf at the faery. “Half-baked. Like you, really. I don’t see where you get off with your bullshit. You’re no better than me; just different. At least I’m not bloody rude and so damn up my own arse I could clean my teeth with my toes from the inside. Here, have your bread. It symbolizes a moment in time. Before everything changes. Half way.” He thought hard, pondering again that Aggie was belabouring the point but faithfully repeating as he’d been taught. “The in between. The fey point, filled with promise and possibility.”

Owen faltered because, as his words fell, one by one, they seemed to float in the air between them and the fey’s expression changed from scorn, to shock, to wonder.

“Who?” he whispered at last, and it broke the spell.

Owen shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It was a stupid idea anyway.” He turned, fully intending to walk away.

“Stop,” the fey commanded.

Owen took a few more steps.

“Wait.”

Owen continued walking.

“Please.”

That got him. He froze. The arrogance had suddenly dropped away and the last word had been filled with – what? Longing? Uncertainty? Hope?

Owen turned slowly. The fey had floated closer still and his feet touched the pebbly shore, even though they were still lapped by water that was even more agitated than before.

“Please,” the fey repeated. He seemed confused now.

“What?” Owen snapped, reluctant to return. Something had changed, and as amorphous as it was, he recognized the potential. Somehow, the words had become real, changed reality to make themselves true. Owen recognized that they were actually in that moment; the fey point; the in between. The world was slipping away and magic crackled and popped around them.

“I…don’t know what to do,” the fey boy said, a frown creasing his smooth forehead, drawing together perfectly arched brows.

“Not used to anyone getting this far, eh?” Owen said, his voice dripping with scorn.

The boy winced. “Not used to humans.”

Shit. The fey seemed to be getting more solid, less magical. He sounded almost…. Without thinking about it, Owen took a step closer. Then another. He stopped when he was so close he could see the tiny drops of water that sparkled in the fey’s hair, like crystals.

For a long, stretched moment the two gazed at each other. Owen noted that the fey’s eyes weren’t silver after all, but pale blue with a ring of turquoise around the pupil. Would that intensify in daylight when the pupils were contracted?

“What’s your name?”

The fey boy winced, his eyes narrowing in an expression of suspicion and wariness. As well he might: names have power, even more so in the faery world.

“Mine’s Owen. Owen Prentis.”

After what seemed like a long time, the boy’s narrowed eyes relaxed and he nodded sharply. “Bran,” he said.

“Bran?” Owen repeated in surprise.

Bran pursed his lips, and Owen swiftly realized what he’d done. All words had power, but names… to mock a name was a terrible insult to the fey. Aggie had drummed that into his head from day one. “Every plant, every animal, every living creature on this good earth has a true name. Learn them and you will always have power at your fingertips. But use them wisely, because power can turn, boy.”

“No. I didn’t mean…. It’s a lovely name. It’s just… It means crow…or raven and you’re not….” He waved his hand at Bran, whose pale skin shivered and shone like moonlight. “…black.”

Now go check out the other briefers for some truly fantastic stories.

Cia Nordwell

Carol Pedroso

Julie Lynn Hayes

Wednesday Briefs. The Faery of Beacon Lake Part 4

My these Wednesdays are rolling around fast. This week I chose the prompt "Fucking haha. Very funny." Maybe it is a little out of character for Owen to say that to his grandmother, but he was very stressed at the time. Aggie let it go graciously - which means he owes her one.

The hush, as complete as it had ever been, seemed to deepen further, and the hair all over Owen’s body crawled and lifted. As before, the world held its breath. Owen held his with her.

Minutes ticked by as Owen scanned the water for any sign of movement. At his back, the black mountains were a looming presence that pressed on his mind.

Was it just his straining mind or was there a faint blue glow deep in the water? Yes.

The glow increased in size and intensity. In its very heart, a darker shape took form.

With a suddenness that startled Owen back a step, the water erupted in a fume that shot ten feet into the air. Owen blinked against the spray, and when he opened his eyes the water was smooth again. Poised on the surface, the boy who’d taken his breath smiled and stole his heart.

Although there was no breeze, the boy’s long, silver hair blew around him, seemingly having life of its own. It was all that protected his modesty. Not that he appeared in any way to be modest. As usual, he was entirely naked and unashamed.

Usually, this was where the vision ended. As soon as he became aware of Owen’s scrutiny, the boy would sink again. The pale blue light would wink out in moments. Owen had been forced to watch from a distance. Tonight, the boy floated closer, almost reaching the bank. Owen gaped, awed by the delicate strength of the candle-straight fey, who glowed with the same pale light that illuminated the water beneath him.

“You have a gift.”

Owen was even more mesmerized, unable to process thoughts or find words, lost in the music that was the fairy’s voice. Cold laughter shocked him like a bucket of iced water poured over his head.

“Foolish human. My gift.” The boy held out his hand, his light voice heavy with command. He watched imperiously down his nose, waiting.

Owen stared blankly for a moment, then shook himself and offered the box. His numb mind struggled to find the words Aggie had taught him. He’d laughed at her when she’d grilled him, making him repeat them over and over. He wasn’t laughing now.

“It…er…it’s…. It’s bread. Well, almost. Unbaked. Dough, I suppose. Maybe. Um. It...it’s…. It represents a…a relationship unformed. L…like ours.”

The fey made no effort to take the box. For a long moment, he observed Owed with his head tilted to one side. Then he laughed. The laughter was mirthless and spiteful.

“Relationship? You presume too much, human.”

Before Owen could say another word, the faery sped backward then disappeared beneath the surface.

“Wait! No!”

It was no good. Not so much as a single ripple remained, and the water was as deep and dark as it had ever been.

“Dammit.” Owen flung the bread into the lake, then stomped off along the path into the pass. Aggie had told him the fey wouldn’t accept the first gift, but even so – the smug little bastard didn’t have to be such a dick about it.

Aggie didn’t look up when he stormed through the door.

“Didn’t go so well then.”

He threw himself into a chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“No.”

Aggie chuckled.

“What?” Owen demanded. “You think it was so funny? Fucking haha. So funny."Owen bit his lip and fumed. His voice was tight, and he had to spit out the words. “He laughed at me. He didn’t just say no, he laughed.”

The mirth dropped from Aggie’s voice and expression. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself. I’ve warned you I don’t know how many times. I told you. The fey folk are different to humans. They might look the same, but they’re made of different stuff. They’ve no time for your foolishness.”

“Is that what you think it is? Foolishness?”

“You know exactly what I think.”

“Yeah.”

Aggie slammed a mug of cocoa on the table in front of him, then stood with her arms folded and lips pursed.

Owen examined the rough grain of the wood under his mug. The table was the heart of the kitchen. Built from one complete oak trunk, it could have seated twenty people. Owen had no idea how it had got through the door, and was half convinced the house had been built around it. Owen had had so many happy times around this table, so many heart breaks were spilled onto it, so many hopes and dreams discusses and explored.

“I know you don’t believe me,” he said, his eyes fixed on the mug, “and that you think I’m under a spell or a glamour, or something. I suppose it’s what I’d think too, if I were you. But it’s not like that. This weird feeling. The… the drive or push or…whatever, was there before I ever saw him. I know in my heart that the… whatever it is, is meant to be.”

“I know,” Aggie said, her voice tight. “But I still think you’re a damn fool.”

Owen flashed her a rueful smile. “I agree with you.

And now for the rest of our fine flashers

Cia Nordwell

Jon Keys

Julie Lynn Hayes

Undone by M Noel and R Phoenix

Book: Undone
Author(s): Morgan Noel & R. Phoenix
Approximately 122,000 words.


Blurb: 

Leandro is a capricious fae, and he has it all: a glamorous casino as his personal playground, more power than he knows what to do with, and Kol’tso, his pet incubus. When Kol’tso tries to push the boundaries of their relationship and provokes feelings in Bryce, a nosy detective, the arrangement becomes more and more complicated. Kol’tso soon finds out there is a high price to pay for angering one of the fae. He finds himself trapped between his nature as an incubus and his desire for freedom. Leandro and his personal security guard Gideon may just be the only obstacles standing between the incubus and everything he wants.

Buy Link: http://amzn.to/2ndBkpx


Excerpt: 

“What is it, Kol’tso? Did you finally decide you were hungry?” Leandro asked petulantly, stretching out in the tub as though seeing his incubus didn't make him ache in more ways than one. He pointed to his empty glass. “I'll need another if that's what you're after.” His words were met with silence, though there was something dark and dangerous behind the incubus’ eyes that he couldn't place. It looked like anger, terrible anger, and it was in brief moments like this that the slave looked disturbingly fae — and suspiciously like him... If someone didn't know better, they might’ve even been fooled. Leandro wasn’t sure he liked that.

The moment faded, and Kolt looked at the drink in his hand before looking back at the empty glass. Without a word, he stepped closer, right up to the edge of the counter by the tub where he wordlessly exchanged one glass for the other.

“Do you want me here, or should I just go back down?” the incubus asked, his voice quiet, guarded, as if he was expecting bad news.

Leandro didn't know which answer Kol’tso would prefer. “Where do you think your place is, Kolt?” Leandro asked, drinking from the glass before offering it back to the incubus in what he thought was a conciliatory gesture. “Here, at my side? Or somewhere away from me?”

That terrible rage threatened to break through the surface, and he wasn’t sure if it was his own or Kolt’s — and the fact that he had to wonder infuriated him. Kolt needed to remember he was a slave. Perhaps he’d been too lenient…

“Wherever you want me,” Kolt answered flatly. “Which is apparently somewhere way at the bottom of your contact list, after Gideon and even your pet detective,” the incubus added, his bitterness clear as day.

Or perhaps he hadn’t been too lenient. “Oh, Kolt,” Leandro said, his voice softening. He straightened, gently pressing the drink into his incubus’ hand. “I knew that would take only moments. I wanted it out of the way so I could give you all of the attention you deserve.”

“And what do I deserve?” Kolt questioned in turn, bringing the glass up to his lips but not drinking from it.

“My entire focus,” Leandro said, rising. Water slid down his body into the large tub, and he reached out and touched Kolt’s cheek with one wet hand. “No distractions. You and me, Kolt, together.”

“Yeah?” Kolt mused, his eyes narrowing a little. “So lock the door…?”

“Lock it,” Leandro purred, stepping out of the tub. “Shut out the world. No one else exists tonight, my Kol’tso, except the two of us.”


Author Bios & Social Media: 

R. Phoenix


R. Phoenix (code name: Raissa) has an unhealthy fascination with contrasts: light and dark, humor and pain, heroes and villains, order and chaos. She believes love can corrupt, power can redeem and that the best of intentions can cast shadows while the worst can create light. She agrees with those who say that the truth is best told through fiction — even though fiction has to make sense while reality can be utterly baffling.


She loves chatting with readers, though she often awkwardly rambles. No matter how much she tries to keep her bad and often perverted sense of humor in check, it seems to escape at the most inconvenient moments. (Thanks, universe.) Feel free to friend Raissa on Facebook and chat or send her an email!


Facebook Profile: https://www.facebook.com/r.phoenix

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/raissaphoenix/

Twitter: @RaissaPhoenix

Email: raissa(dot)phoenix(at)gmail(dot)com


Morgan Noel


Fluent in sarcasm and double entendre, devourer of cookies and champion pizza consumer. Pantser who doesn't play by the rules. The Kraken has been released, so long and thanks for all the fish!


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/morgan.noel.71271

Email: authormorgannoel(at)gmail(dot)com

WEDNESDAY BRIEFS: The Fairy Of Beacon Lake Part 3

I didn't get a prompt this week so the brief is free range.

I hope you enjoy.

Hours later, close to midnight, Owen scrambled down the path toward the lake. A low moon lit his path but leeched colour from the world, turning it blue and silver. Owen shivered and pulled his coat closer around his throat. It was late summer but already the nights were turning cold. He clutched the parcel he was holding tight against his chest. He was by no means convinced that the “gift” Aggie had provided would bring anything but scornful laughter, but she’d never let him down before. Three nights, she’d told him. “Three nights. Three gifts. Then we’ll see.”

The lake lay at the foot of a rippled mountain range that staggered around it in a broken semicircle. It was as if some giant had come along when the earth was forming, found it to be whipped and light like mousse and took a spoonful. One side of the rough bowl was steep and almost fluted, while the other, after a slight rise over the lip, swept gently downwards into the valley below. It was over this lip that Owen now strolled, following a well-worn path from the top of the cliff, between two of its ripples where the slope was less rocky and steep. Even so, it was uneasy going for those unused to it, especially at night. Fortunately, Own had wandered the sheep paths all his life and his feet were sure enough to navigate with far less light than the moon provided.

By the time he reached the bank, a strange hush had fallen. It was this that had drawn him here the first time. He’d been walking back from somewhere, Gethin’s probably. It was before they’d both left for uni. It was a shame Gethin had chosen Cambridge. Owen missed his friend, but he had neither the means nor the desire to attend such a prestigious university – or such an English one. He was lucky the course he wanted was available at Swansea, which was not much more than an hour away, giving him plenty of opportunity to come home to see to Aggie.

On the last night before Gethin left, they’d had a going away party in the village hall. He’d gone back to Gethin’s after, and, fair play, he did have a belly-full of cider before he even got there. When everyone else had gone, Gethin had opened a bottle of Penderyn whiskey. It turned out to be his father’s and to say Gethin Snr was displeased would be understatement of the year. By the time Owen staggered along the path over the cliff tops he was as pissed as a parrot.

He hadn’t noticed at first. That silence. There was always sound. The wind. Small things in the grass. Bigger things eating the grass. Sheep that is. There were sheep everywhere. Bloody nuisances. At least they didn’t wander down to the village anymore. He’d been scared out of sleep plenty of times by sheep knocking the lids off the dustbins. Nowadays, the farmers had to fence them in. It was a pain having to climb stiles, but probably for the best, in the end.

That night, there had been no sheep. No owls. No anything.

By the time the silence had reached the place, deep inside his head, that was still functioning at something close to normal, he was at the place where the path diverged. The right fork led down to the lane that ran to his cottage, the other wound down to the lake. He’d hesitated for no more than a moment, before taking the left path. Some strange urgency had overtaken him and he’d sped up, tripping over rocks and almost falling more than once. When he’d reached the lake, he’d felt stupid. Panting hard, with his heart hammering against his ribs, he’d gazed out over the water, waiting to catch his breath. Then he’d seen it; he’d seen him.

There were no islands in the lake, no protruding rocks or stepping stones, yet there he’d been apparently sitting on the surface of the water itself, combing hair that must have been three feet long, 

silver in the moonlight.

At first, Owen had though him to be a mermaid. It had taken a while of breathless voyeurism to discover he was male. It had, in fact, been the point when, as if he’d known Owen was watching, the boy had flowed up to stand on the water. Half-turning he’d stretched upward, then arched his back, giving Owen a perfect view of a long, lean body with a defined musculature and…. Of course he’d looked. He couldn’t help looking. A lovely boy, naked in the moonlight? Where the hell was Owen’s gaze supposed to go? Downwards of course. His cock was perfect.

Owen shivered again. One look was all he’d got before the boy spun and sank into the water. For an instant Owen had been worried, but he’d known all along, in the back of his mind, that this was no ordinary boy. Although he’d tried to blame it on his drunkenness, Owen knew he’d seen a fairy.  Of course, he’d said nothing to anyone. Neither had he told of the sightings he’d had since. Four – no five – times he’d stood just here on the bank and watched the boy rise to sit on an invisible rock and comb his hair. The last few times, the lilting notes of a strange song had floated to Owen on the wind and he’d become entranced, sometimes finding himself alone on the shore with the dawn breaking and no memory of what had happened. Of course, he hadn’t told Aggie that part. She never would have helped him if she’d known he was already under the fairy boy’s spell.

With a sigh, Owen clutched the box containing Aggie’s gift tighter to his chest. What if it didn’t work? What if it did?

Now's the time to head off and find out what the other flashers are offering this week

Cia Nordwell

Carol Pedroso

Julie Lynn Hayes