Friday, July 29, 2011

A Good Prospect by Karen Mercury

A Good Prospect

Going for the Gold 3

Coming August 3, 2011

The story of one mining camp is the story of mankind.

Salvador Palomares, Don of a vast California rancho, saves the life of Ophir, a former slave pierced by an Indian arrow. Sal has wasted years in drunken cattle driving and horse racing, and is surprised when Ophir tells him gold has been discovered, his land invaded by a gang of ruffians determined to banish all Spanish “foreigners.”

Sal and Ophir rescue Tamasin, a downtrodden Irish refugee raised in a convent. Their passion for Tamasin creates rivalry between the two partners. Tamasin loves them equally, so the decision to form a ménage cements their bond.

But their empire is threatened by The League, lawless thieves closing in to starve them out of their own mines. The trio’s goal is to live in peace. And they fight to the bitter end to reclaim it.

Their love is…A GOOD PROSPECT



“Mr. Palomares!” With shoulders squared, the buffoon addressed Knut.

Knut sat up proudly. “How did you know that I am Mr.—” he started to say, but Sal cut him off.

“I am Don Salvador Palomares,” he declared with irritation. Knut looked offended to have not been allowed to be Don Salvador for more than one second. “Who are you, and what is your business?”

“Mr. McCarthy says you should proceed to the Legislature of a Thousand Drinks, and meet with him there.” The thug reversed his direction and lumbered back down the street.

Ophir shrugged. “I guess we should follow. Although what will we do with Tamasin while we’re having this confab? We can’t very well leave her in the street with these ruffians.”

“No, not at all. And Knut will turn into a crybaby if we try to leave him out. I suppose we should take her in with us.”

“If this place really does have a thousand drinks, she could amuse herself with some aguardiente. Didn’t it seem strange that lout immediately knew who you were, as though we were expected here?”

The thuggish fellow vanished into one of the many buildings that had been built in the past couple of months. There was no sign out front, and no drunks were describing zigzag Virginia fences in and out the door, so it couldn’t be an ordinary grog shop.

“Maybe it is sort of an office building, such as we are building in Bear Valley?” Knut suggested when several efficient Americans leaped forward to take their reins. “But I would really like to know more about these thousand drinks.”

The interior proved to be a large room about twenty feet long, a wide array of different rickety tables and chairs lit by whale oil lamps. Indeed there was a rough oak bar and a barkeep who wasn’t very busy, as there were only three men seated at a center table, so Knut made a beeline for one of the many drinks he was assured were there, taking Tamasin with him.

The two partners approached the center table, and Tyke McCarthy removed his threadbare, misshapen hat. Apparently for one who styled himself the alcalde of this burg, he couldn’t afford a better hat. “Mr. Palomares,” he sneered. He did not extend his hand. “Last time we met, you introduced me to an oak tree and stole some of my workers.”

Salvador placed his sombrero on the greasy table, and nodded guardedly. “Yes, I did. California is a free state, and workers are free to go wherever the pay and the treatment is the best.”

“Well, and thank you for asking me how my head is doing. I see you’ve brought your contingent with you—a colored slave”—he looked Ophir up and down as though he were a steaming pile of cow’s entrails—“and your Swedish manservant, as well as a…”

“Yes, this is my partner, Ophir, as I introduced you before,” Sal said quickly, as Tyke’s eyeballs were already glazing over with a prurient appetite at the sight of Tamasin. Sal did, however, extend his hand to the stranger wearing an extremely wide-brimmed felt hat. “And you might be…?”

The small-eyed fellow shook his hand, but said guardedly, “Thomas Jefferson Green.” The anti-greaser slave-owner narrowed his tiny eyes at Sal. Sal had a feeling this meeting would not go well. The third member of the meeting was the burly enforcer. No one introduced him, and no one was sitting down.

Sal said, “We’re here to discuss collecting rents, and the loss of many of my cattle.”

“Oh, is that so?” Tyke laughed and raised his empty glass in the direction of the barkeep. “Sam, a round of whiskeys all around.”

“No, thank you,” said Ophir.

“Thank you, no,” Sal echoed. “Some water would be nice.”

“Water?” scoffed Tyke. He laughed with his partner, Mr. Green. It was a gruesome sight in one so slimy and repugnant. Sal certainly didn’t want to have to look at his corroded teeth again. “Have you ever seen anyone drink water in these parts, Tom Jeff?”

Tom Jeff shared Tyke’s amusement, and his teeth weren’t nearly as noisome. “Maybe Mr. Palomares is so interested in water because he’s fixing to steal all the Merced water for his own operations upriver.”

Sal frowned. “Steal? You can hardly steal water, Mr. Green. If anything, you’re stealing it from me, as I own this entire part of the river.”

Tom Jeff’s face reddened and Tyke cut him off in a show of forced jollity. “And maybe that’s why he wants a glass of it back, Tom Jeff. Now, here’s Mr. Frostad, how are you, my fine fellow? I see you don’t consider yourself above drinking our whiskey.”

Knut gestured with his whiskey glass. “Jah, Mr. McCarthy, I find it most interesting to compare the different vintages of whiskey from one part of this country to another—”

Tyke nearly bowled over his chair in his attempts to greet Tamasin, who had been hiding behind Knut, soaking her lips in her whiskey glass. “And who might I have the pleasure of greeting?” he said slimily, while Tamasin yanked her hand away from his paw.

Salvador stepped to Tamasin’s side, insinuating himself bodily between Tyke and his paramour. “She is nobody, she is our housemaid.” Already he intended to apologize later to Tamasin for that remark, but he didn’t want Tyke paying undue attention to her. He took her by the upper arm and led her to an empty chair while saying, “Now, we have business to discuss. Knut here has taken my survey of my land, and filed it in San José—”

“As California Land Case Number One!” Knut pointed out with alacrity.

“—so it’s only a matter of time before my ownership is acknowledged. Most everyone in and around Mariposa and Bear Valley has agreed to pay rent for the use of my land in their mining operations. Now you, as alcalde”—Sal loathed bestowing Tyke with that moniker, but flattery would help in this instance—“have the power to persuade people around Hornitos to follow. Knut, show him the claim you filed.”

As he shuffled around in his purse, Knut remarked, “Why do they call this building the Legislature of a Thousand Drinks? It does not appear to be an ordinary grog shop, more of a headquarters for your League.”

“Ah, that’s easy,” Tyke replied happily. “Tom Jeff Green here has served in three Southern legislatures. He had a mighty idea to come to California from Texas and use slaves to grow cotton.”

“Which is why he was ejected from the Yuba River,” Ophir mentioned.

Tyke ignored Ophir. “So Mr. Green here is going back to San José to run for state senator. He has a splendid saloon there known as the Legislature of a Thousand Drinks, so we started up this one here.”

Sal frowned. “And what is your business in Hornitos then, Mr. Green? Shouldn’t you be in San José trying to win office?”


That Ophir stood behind him, urgently rotating the head of his massive cock against Sal’s ass, only increased his rapture. To finally glide his cock up her slick, hot passage was enough to bring him off instantly, and to watch her ass rotate and wiggle with pleasure was a treat he’d never experienced.

He was afraid of hurting her at first, thinking perhaps she’d been assaulted in the past. It was an arrogant thought that his penis was overly large, but once he was lodged against the final extremity of her passage, Sal tried to move slower. It was as though her cunt had sucked him in, like the mouth of one of those meat-eating flowers! The sucking and clenching of it compelled him on, the walls of her inner twat gripping and munching at his prick as though it had some masterly, adept life of its own.

When Ophir unclothed his own cock and rubbed the hot crown of it against Sal’s ass, his balls filled to their maximum and drew up close to his body. He had to still himself while Tamasin whimpered for more. Ophir dipped his fingers into a bowl of what was apparently manteca, and Sal could tell by the rigorous motions of Ophir’s bicep that he was slathering it onto his prick. Ophir’s bawdy murmurings only served to heighten Sal’s impending orgasm.

“That’s good, Sal, real good. Keep it up, keep pounding your wife. Isn’t she beautiful all spread out like that? Doesn’t it make your long…thick…juicy cock just want to erupt inside of her?”

“Oh, ay dios, sí, Ophir…” Sal muttered nonsensically. Yes to what? To the achingly exquisite sight of Tamasin with spread legs leaning forward on the bed, or to what Ophir was planning to do with the manteca?

When Ophir’s greasy fingers probed his asshole, smearing the unctuous butter up to his first knuckle inside of him, Sal had to slow his pumping until he was nearly stopped. This made Tamasin mewl with need, so Sal picked her up by the hips and launched her on all fours onto the bed, where he remained crouched over and into her.

“Ah!” she cried, and seemed to like this subservient position where her hungry quim could feel every nuance and slight motion of his penis. When he flexed his cock inside of her, she gasped and jumped, and he knew he could control her orgasm by the movements of his fingers against her clitoris.

Ophir positioned the giant mushroom head of his prick against Sal’s asshole, and Sal’s thighs quivered with anticipation and a bit of fear. He’d never been speared before, much less with an enormous appendage like Ophir’s, but he relaxed into the warm grip of Ophir’s steadying hand on his hip, and Ophir’s licentious words helped calm his trepidation at being invaded like that.

“I’m going to fuck you, Sal, my love, my love.” The bulging crown of Ophir’s prick breached the tight ring of his ass, sending a flood of jism up the underside of Sal’s penis. “Feel yourself inside of Tamasin. Feel her cunt squeezing your fat, luscious cock.” Ophir gave a swift little jab with his prick and he was halfway buried inside Sal. “You’re inside your wife, the woman you love. And the man who loves you is buggering your firm, fleshy ass. Good God, Sal.” He slapped Sal’s ass with such a loud snap the guests downstairs might have heard it, had Knut not commenced to caterwauling on Ophir’s fiddle. “That’s right, my big bull of a man. Feel my cock filling you. I’m gonna fill you with loads of my hot jism.” Another slap. “You like this? Tell me you like it. Tell me you like being bumfucked by my giant, meaty horse cock.”

Sal was so choked up, trying to hold in roars of intense excitement, he could only answer Ophir in monosyllables. “,” he squeaked. “Fuck me, Ophir. Fuck me. With your. Giant prick.”

When Ophir commenced to driving nearly the entire length of his prick in and out of Sal’s asshole, Sal couldn’t hold back. The view of Tamasin’s pure white shoulder blades, so delicate like a bird’s, was enough to send him over the edge. He remembered to pet her clitoris, knowing by the slick bulging that she would soon be squirting her feminine juices all over his hand. He loved that, particularly when she gushed against his mouth, and he tasted and supped her juice.

“Good God, Sal.” Ophir bit the tender flesh at the side of his neck as he pumped into him. “You are one. Big. Delicious morsel of ass.”

Damien and the Doctor by Gale Stanley

Damian and the Doctor

Symbiotic Mates: 4

A disfigured vampire and a captured wolf find solace in each other. But when Doc shifts to human form, will he still look past Damian's scarred face or turn away in disgust?

Available at Silver Publishing:


Doc woke, tried to stretch, and realized he couldn't move. Lying on the floor, bound at his wrists, and ankles, the first pangs of anxiety clawed at his gut. Squirming to get some life back in his numb limbs, he stared up at the ceiling. Is it day or night? The absence of a window made him claustrophobic and the loss of freedom and movement made his wolf antsy. Frustration got the better of him and he banged his head against the hardwood floor like a kid throwing a tantrum. It didn't help.

Right about now his Alpha would be throwing his own tantrum, cursing the vampires for taking his men, and working on a plan to get them back. Make it soon, boss. He had to give the bloodsuckers credit for knowing isolation would be the worst possible torture for a Lycan.

Wolves are pack animals, social creatures that need the company of their own kind. How long could he endure this sensory deprivation without going wacko?

Every squeak or movement outside the room made his pulse quicken and his heart race. Stay cool, calm, and collected, Doc. Don't give the bloodsuckers the reaction they want. Cunning bastards, they knew every mind trick in the book. Well, he knew a few tricks of his own and maybe now was the time to play his hand. First, he needed to get out of the restraints. He tested their strength and relaxed a little when he discovered his ruse had worked.

The vampires weren't as smart as they were cracked up to be. If they were, they would have realized he was holding his wrists slightly apart when they tied them; same thing with his ankles. His hands had been bound in front of his body, another mistake on their part. He gripped the rope with his teeth while he wriggled his hands out of the restraints. Freeing his feet was a piece of cake.

His limbs tingled as dormant nerve endings woke up and he stretched to get the blood flowing. Ignoring the sensation of pins and needles, he got to his feet to check out his prison. He could see just fine in the dark, but there wasn't much to see in the small, empty room, just four walls and a locked exit. With an ear to the door, his enhanced hearing picked up breathing sounds on the other side: four vampire guards. He could smell them too. Coppery vampire stink drifted under the door and wafted through the room, offending his hypersensitive nostrils and tempting his wolf to sit up and howl.

Stupid mutt! If the animal had used those senses when he really needed them, he wouldn't be in this fix.


Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Spirit Wolves 3; Two Mates for a Magistrate by Scarlet Hyacinth



For many centuries, Magistrate Wolfram Rozenstadt shouldered the burden of leadership alone, his only support his best friend, Klaus. But the pain of his people and the loss of lives strains his mind and soul until he is almost lost in his nightmares. Unexpectedly, a vision leads him to his two mates, Dietrich and Fritz, giving him hope.

Dietrich is a witch, having learned from a very young age to loathe the part of him that is a beast. But upon meeting Fritz, his control fails, and he is on the verge of becoming a monster. All the while, Fritz tries to grasp how in the world a relationship which seemed to show such promise turned into an episode of The Twilight Zone.

Wolfram comes to their aid, but an enemy is lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. And this time, The Magistrate's power might not be enough to defeat the evil watching them.

Story excerpt

Just as he considered this new course of action, Dietrich felt something, an odd attraction reach out. It called out to the instincts of the beast, fighting the veil of magic that held them back. Any other time, Dietrich might have been able to control it, but now, he couldn’t have done it to save his life.

He kept on walking, until he reached a sort of construction site. It seemed like the workers erected a new hospital of sorts, although only the skeleton had been put up so far. Dietrich scanned the area for anything that might have triggered this instinct. His eyes fell on a masculine silhouette, high up on the beams. With his keen eyesight, Dietrich could take in all the exquisite features even from this distance. Sweat shone on a strong, naked, masculine torso, muscles flexing as the man worked on securing the building. The human’s close-cropped blond hair spoke of a distinctive Arian heritage. Dietrich inherited a mixed look, since his father had been French, but not so with this man. Alas, the sun prevented Dietrich from seeing his face.

A shout sounded above him, and Dietrich had the time to jump back before a heavy beam hit the spot where he’d just been. Still, the sudden motion made him lose his balance, an odd thing given that he’d never been caught off guard in his life. Alarmed yells filled the entire area, with every human rushing to check on him. Their distress was entirely justifiable, given the size of the thing that had fallen from above. Even someone like him would have been severely injured, not to mention a frail human.

A heavy hand helped him up, and Dietrich looked up to see the man from before. The bluest eyes in existence scanned him with concern. “Are you all right?” the man asked in German.

“Fine, thank you,” Dietrich replied. His voice sounded weird to his own ears. He hadn’t spoken his native tongue in many years now.

The man didn’t look convinced. Dietrich gripped his hand, and the moment their skin made contact, electricity sizzled over his skin. He started, almost breaking free of the human’s hold, but the stranger held on. Dietrich caught a flash of arousal in the other man’s eyes, and his senses were invaded with the distinctive scent of desire. It would seem their attraction went both ways.

“Are you sure?” he asked Dietrich. “You seem a bit dazed.”

Dietrich wanted to laugh. Of course he was dazed, but not because of any fallen beam. The man’s presence felt intoxicating, and Dietrich’s hand itched to touch all that delicious skin.

He didn’t reply, and the human must have taken it as agreement. Much to Dietrich’s dismay, someone tossed the gorgeous hunk a shirt. “Come on,” the human said as he covered himself. “Let’s get you a drink.”

As they headed away from the accident site, the perfect specimen of manhood spoke again. “I’m Fritz Bauer. What’s your name?”

At last, Dietrich regained his abilities to speak, probably what Fritz had intended in the first place. “Dietrich Dupont. Pleased to meet you.”

Fritz offered him a smile that revealed teeth almost too white to be real. “Likewise.” He gestured toward an improvised bench and miraculously retrieved two beers from somewhere. He offered one to Dietrich and opened the other for himself. Dietrich did the same and took a sip out of his bottle. He hid a grimace at the taste of the low-alcohol brew. Of course, a competent worker would not drink at his workplace.

They sat together on the bench, sipping their beers in silence. “So, I haven’t seen you around,” Fritz said at last. “New in town?”

“Not really,” Dietrich answered, not sure why he even told Fritz this. “I used to live here when I was a kid. It’s the first time I’ve been here since then.” Never mind that his childhood days were four centuries back.

“Oh. Things must really be different now.”

Dietrich couldn’t help but chuckle, and he acknowledged it with a distant shock. He hadn’t laughed in far too long. But he couldn’t help it. Fritz’s words really hit the bull’s-eye. “Are you calling me old?” he asked.

He heard his own flirtatious tone, but he refused to take back the words. Something inside him screamed this was dangerous, but for the first time in many years, he felt comfortable enough to laugh with someone. Fritz grinned back. “Not at all,” he said. “But perhaps I should apologize better. Would you like to have another drink with me when I’m off work?” He smiled apologetically. “A real beer.”

Alarm started screeching in Dietrich’s head. He knew he shouldn’t get involved with this human. Already, the attraction between them threatened the barriers of his control. Casting aside the glum thoughts, he decided to accept. “Sure.”

For a few more minutes, they sat there, chatting about nothing in particular, until at last, the time came for Fritz to get back to work. “Meet you in a few hours in the Plaza?”

Dietrich nodded. Everyone, tourist or local, knew how to get there, and Dietrich doubted its location would have changed, even after four hundred years. “I’ll be waiting.”

Adult excerpt

What little patience Dietrich had left evaporated. He crushed his lips to Wolfram’s, tasting the other man for the first time. Oddly, he thought that he could make the distinction between flavors of his two mates. In a distant part of his mind, he heard the bed creak and registered his human’s presence, just a second before Fritz’s warm hand landed on the naked skin of Dietrich’s chest. Fritz tweaked his nipple, making him groan in Wolfram’s mouth. The scrape of his mate’s nails over the tiny bud went straight to his cock, impossibly making him even harder. Wolfram bit his lip, and the sharp pain sizzled over him like a promise.

Dietrich broke apart from his mate, needing to touch back. What little clothing remained flew off, and Dietrich found himself kneeling on the bed, sandwiched between two hard, male bodies. Dietrich swept his hands over all the naked skin, loving the feel of the rippling muscles under his fingertips. He’d barely ended the kiss with Wolfram when Fritz took his mouth. Dietrich gave and devoured in equal measure, the kiss hovering between a battle for dominance and a languorous dance of passion. When it ended, he pushed Wolfram down, and Dietrich climbed into the other wolf’s lap. Wolfram’s erection nudged against his crease, and Fritz’s heat threatened to melt him right then and there.

Sensations coursed through him, and he suddenly ached to feel his mates inside of him. His wolf wanted to surrender, to trust in the embrace of two men who wouldn’t betray him, to let go in a way he’d never been able to.

He rubbed against his mates, making both of them groan. Wolfram tilted his head to nibble at his neck. Dietrich hissed, aching to have his mate’s fangs in his flesh. He didn’t even know where that idea came from, since he’d never done it before with a lover, but there it was.

They tortured with him with light, sensual motions, until Dietrich thought he would go mad. At last, the wolf broke free, and he tore himself away from Wolfram. Changing their positions, he pounced on his human mate. Seconds later, he crushed his lips to Fritz’s, barely managing to avoid biting into Fritz’s lip. The other man didn’t seem to mind his aggression. If anything, it made him turn up the heat even further, and he echoed Dietrich’s movements with something akin to desperation.

Wolfram caressed Dietrich’s back, and his wolf mate’s touch made him shudder and lose focus. When Wolfram separated his ass cheeks and rubbed a dry finger over his hole, Dietrich pushed back, wordlessly begging for invasion. “Lube,” Wolfram said. “Where?”

Dietrich broke the kiss with Fritz, giving his human enough time to answer. “Night table,” Fritz replied, panting.

Wolfram’s hands disappeared and returned in maybe a few seconds, but Dietrich still felt their absence. A trickle of lube slipped down the crack of his ass. Fritz took advantage of the moment to slip from under him and position Dietrich on all fours. Fritz’s cock bobbed in front of him, and Dietrich’s mouth watered at the sight.

He gazed up at Fritz, growling, “Come on. Fuck my face.”

Fritz didn’t hesitate a single second. He fed his prick into Dietrich’s mouth. Dietrich gladly parted his lips and took the hard shaft in his mouth. The moment his mate’s flavor exploded on his taste buds, his brain switched off, turning into pure instinct. Everything else disappeared but the need to be one with his mates. Fear became a recollection so distant he couldn’t be bothered to care about it.

Fritz tasted intoxicating, the spicy and sweet flavor better than anything Dietrich ever experienced in his life. He bobbed his head up and down the thick shaft, loving the weight of it on his tongue. It was his turn to tease and torture, his turn to devour Fritz whole.

A finger invaded Dietrich’s backside, making him tense in surprise. He wanted this, yes, but he hadn’t taken anyone inside of him in forever. In fact, he’d never acquired a taste for being at the receiving end of things with another man, and it surprised him that he wanted to do so now. Wolfram caressed his hip, and Fritz’s hand eased into his hair, and all the misgivings vanished, melting into pure passion.

Dietrich struggled to focus on the cock in his mouth. It wasn’t easy with Wolfram finger-fucking him, but he found help in the desire to taste his mate and the ingrained discipline of so many years of keeping control over his wolf. He wanted them all to experience this ecstasy, to feel the pleasure he did.

A second finger joined the first inside him, while Dietrich licked and sucked at Fritz’s dick. At first, both Fritz and Wolfram kept their motions gentle. Wolfram prepared Dietrich’s body with almost excruciating slowness, while Fritz allowed Dietrich to do whatever he wanted, visibly restraining himself.

When his wolf mate’s fingers rubbed his prostate, Dietrich growled, the gentleness no longer enough. He wanted to be fucked, and he wanted it now. Behind him, Wolfram let out a low chuckle. “Eager, aren’t we?”

Dietrich would’ve been pissed, but he heard the strain in Wolfram’s voice and knew his mate wanted this just as much as he did. Wolfram’s fingers left Dietrich’s body, and a few seconds of pained anticipation followed. He waited until, at last, his wolf mate’s cock nudged at his entrance.

Slowly, Wolfram pushed inside, the burn of the stretch both delicious and painful. Dietrich had seen Wolfram’s impressive cock. He might’ve doubted his ability to take it, but he knew they were mates. Their bodies, like their souls, were made for each other.


Sunday, July 24, 2011

Hypnotic Healing by Gabrielle Evans

[LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: Erotic Alternative Fantasy Ménage Romance, M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M, demons, light bondage, spanking, sex toys]

Hex has led his warriors through more battles than he can count. They turn to him for answers, for guidance—to show them the way to victory. The responsibility is huge, and the pressure is overwhelming. If they fail, the blame rests with him. Failure is not an option.

Echo can see the strain of war is crushing Hex’s spirit and affecting his health. He’s done everything he knows to do, but still, Hex is resistant to accept his help. Then the unthinkable happens, and Echo is kidnapped and drained. He’s not sure how he survived, but he’s more determined than ever to prove his worthiness of a second chance with his mates.

When the new moon rises, and those they counted as friends turn against them, it will be up to Echo to show Hex the way to heal the madness. How difficult could this leader stuff be?

Story Excerpt

A soft knock sounded from the door, and Hex groaned. It was probably Echo. As much as he adored his mate’s company, he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the man. He needed to be alone and work out the strange feelings fluttering around inside his chest.

“Hex? Please let me in,” Echo said softly through the heavy wood.

Sighing in resignation, Hex called for his mate to enter. He didn’t move from his position, though. Whatever Echo had to say, he could say it and leave. Hex wasn’t in the mood for reciprocal conversation.

The door creaked open, then closed with a quiet snick. Echo didn’t approach him. No footsteps sounded across the carpeted floor. Apparently, he was just going to stand there and stare.

“Can I help you?” Hex asked with his arm still covering his face. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes and the quiet ache of his temples. It wasn’t bad yet, but it was headed that way.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Because I’ll fall apart, Hex thought to himself. One look at Echo’s beautiful face, and everything he was fighting so hard to keep inside would come spilling out in a gush. Maybe once he’d figured out exactly what he was feeling, he’d be ready to talk, but now, with his brain so twisted and snarled, was not the time.

“Echo, I’ll come find you in a little while, okay? I just need some downtime right now.” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. Gods, he just needed the man out of the room.

A quiet sigh reached his ears, and Hex hoped that meant Echo was going to let him have his way. He should have known better.

There was a soft rustling sound, the shuffle of feet, then the bed dipped as Echo crawled up from the end. He didn’t say anything as he stretched out beside Hex and rested his head just over Hex’s heart. His small hand rubbed comforting circles over Hex’s abs as he nestled in closer.

Finally lifting his arm away from his face, Hex blinked to clear his blurry eyes and looked down at his lover. “What are you doing?”

“You said you needed downtime,” Echo whispered. “I’m letting you have that, but you’re not going to hide from me.” He placed a soft kiss over Hex’s heart and draped one slim leg over Hex’s thigh. “Sleep, my love. We’ll talk later.”

There was that damn endearment again that made him feel like a big, mushy pile of goo. It also made his head hurt. He couldn’t give Echo what he wanted. He’d be devoted, affectionate, and attentive, but he couldn’t love the man.

Oh, it would be so easy to fall in love with Echo. Hex had an idea he was more than halfway there already. It wasn’t something he could allow himself to do, though. It made him weak. It made him vulnerable.

And it put everyone he cared about in danger.

Ares believed Hex and the others protected Echo because he was the key to attaining victory in the war. For now, he was toying with them, playing a game like a little boy. Things would go downhill quickly if the vengeful god had even an inkling of how much Echo meant to Hex. The gloves would come off, and the things they’d faced so far would look like rides at a kiddie park.

He didn’t know why the god had such a hard-on for him, but Ares could never know how important Hex’s men were to him.

“This is supposed to be downtime,” Echo whispered drowsily. “You’re thinking too much.” He tilted his head back and popped open one eye. “And you’re not cuddling me properly.”

“Well, I apologize.” Hex smiled a real smile and curled around his mate, winding his arms around Echo and pulling him closer.

“Much better.” Echo sighed and rubbed his cheek over Hex’s chest. “Do you think it’s weird that Gage tries to hide his accent while Craze insists on making up one?”

The shift in the conversation left Hex speechless for a second as his brain tried to catch up. Then Echo laughed and patted Hex’s chest. “Never mind, big guy.” They were quiet for another minute, and Hex had almost drifted off to sleep when Echo spoke again. “Hex?”

“Yes, baby?” Mmm, Echo was so warm, and he smelled so good after his recent shower. His body conformed perfectly to Hex’s, making him sigh in contentment. Why couldn’t things always be this easy?

In the next breath, Echo answered his unspoken question, or more to the point, slapped him in the face with it. “I love you, okay? Don’t be scared. Don’t say anything. Just know I love you.”

Hex’s heart pounded wildly inside his chest, and suddenly, he couldn’t seem to get enough air. Echo had told him not to speak, and he fully intended to follow that order.

Adult Excerpt

Fiero’s tongue licked against his hole, ringing it, and pushing inside. A deep, rumbling growl vibrated Echo’s chest, a sound he’d never heard himself make, and he arched his back and rocked his aching cock against Eyce’s as he pushed back into Fiero’s mouth.

His thirst sated for the moment, another kind of need swept through him, tightening his muscles, and burning his body. “More,” he demanded. A thick finger pushed in beside Fiero’s tongue, sawing in and out of Echo’s clenching hole. It wasn’t enough. “More!”

“Demanding little shit,” Eyce mumbled with a feral grin.

Echo’s loosely held control snapped, and he launched himself off the bed faster than he’d ever moved before. In the next blink, he had Fiero on his back, crawling up his body, and devouring his mouth. He growled and snarled, thrusting his hips against his lover’s naked body, writhing on top of him as his cock pulsed, swelling to the point of pain. “Give. Me. More!”

He felt movement, heard rustling in the background, but his hazy brain couldn’t register who or what made the noise. His throat began to burn again, his fangs lengthening and throbbing as he sucked at Fiero’s neck. “Want you. Want to bury my cock in your tight ass and make you scream my name. Would you like that? Would you like me pounding into you until you come so hard you pass out?”

“Holy fuck.” Fiero groaned, craning his head to the side and arching his back.

That was enough of an answer for Echo. Before he could move to retrieve the lube, though, two slick fingers pushed into his fluttering entrance, and he hissed against Fiero’s throat. Fiero growled, his muscles tightening then relaxing as he fisted his hands in Echo’s hair and attacked his mouth.

The digits sawed in and out of his hole, pumping hard and fast several times before a third joined them and started the process all over again. Echo’s body thrummed with pleasure, his muscles quivering with anticipation.

When Eyce extracted his fingers, Echo shimmied down Fiero’s body, dropping his feet to the floor and hooking the demon’s knees over his arms. With ease, he jerked the warrior to him, dipping two fingers into Fiero’s clenching opening to make sure he was stretched, then swiftly replacing them with the head of his cock. “I can’t go slow,” he warned seconds before he shoved in to the root.

Fiero roared, his inner walls clamping down around Echo’s cock, stroking and massaging him until he thought he’d lose his mind. Leaning over his mate, Echo stretched Fiero’s legs wider, opening him up so he could drive in deeper. Two hard snaps of his hips, and Echo stilled, waiting for Eyce to join them as he swirled his tongue around one of Fiero’s copper-colored nipples.

Eyce parted Echo’s cheeks and rubbed the weeping tip of his cock over Echo’s puckered hole, then rocked forward until the flared crown popped through the guarding ring of muscles. Echo groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, and pushed back, pulling his dick from Fiero’s ass as he impaled himself on Eyce’s huge length.

Eyce echoed his groan as his fingers dug into Echo’s hips, and he began a slow, deliberate pace. Push and pull, give and take, they found their rhythm and moved as one. Over and over Echo dragged his flexing cock over the straining muscles of Fiero’s hole. Eyce filled him, retreated, and filled him again, stretching his inner walls and brushing over his sweet spot.

His throat felt raw and scratchy, his balls churned and ached, his heart kicked against his sternum, and Echo couldn’t hold back any longer. With a roar loud enough to shake the windows, he jerked his hips, driving into Fiero’s yielding body and demanding Eyce keep pace with him.

Gabrielle Evans

Thursday, July 21, 2011


Mate Test

Coming out July 23, 2011

Bonding with a space dragon left Tor blind but not helpless. When his uncle requests he go to the dragon planet to check on his cousin and negotiate mineral rights with a king, he goes, unknowing his hand in marriage is also at risk.

Here is the purchase link


High Duke Torrance Zelan took another drink of his hot, bitter coffee and thought moodily over his trip to the dragon world. Some days there wasn't enough caffeine in the universe to help wake a man up. After visiting his cousin Joriah for his mating ceremony earlier, he now had to meet with the king of the southern provinces to discuss mining rights. The high king, his uncle, wanted access to the rare minerals only found in this area of the galaxy, many of which were necessary components for warp drive processors. As he was already semi-familiar with the planet and had a personal connection with dragons, his uncle thought he would make the perfect representative.

Tor was withholding his opinion until he met the southern king. Larien would've loved this trip. Dear, sweet, gentle Larien, with his hard body and sweet voice, was a man who dreamed of seeing dragons fly.

"You would've loved this, baby," Tor whispered.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tor held back his tears. In times like these he wished he'd followed his lover into the afterlife instead of lingering on. Losing Larien had hit him like a fist to the stomach.

Only his family kept his feet firmly grounded from leaving this plane for the next. He couldn't leave his little girl and two boys. Although his broken heart remained tattered and bruised, he loved them.

Tor sighed. Pressing his face into his hands, he discreetly wiped away the moisture he felt leak from his eyes despite his best efforts. The cold glass of the window cooled his heated skin as he released another sigh. Even though he couldn't see the star field outside the window, he knew it was still there.

Dragon-bonded as a child, Tor's vision relied solely on what the dragon allowed him to see. Subsequently, his ability to see flashed in and out like a poor intergalactic transmission. Sometimes it was excruciatingly clear, but normally, it was complete blackness only broken by the brilliant sparkle of stars. When Baroy flew through the cosmos at night, Tor saw everything the creature saw. With his eyes always locked with the dragon's in space, he was blind to the everyday world around him. Some days he wished he'd never touched the baby dragon when he was a young boy.

"Did you say something, my lord?"

"Nothing important, Pietro. I was thinking of how Larien would've loved visiting the dragons."

The elderly man grunted in agreement. "Mr. Jall always dreamed of dragons. He would've loved coming on this trip."

Speechless from the tears clogging his throat, the duke nodded.

Pietro made a soft disapproving sound. "He also would've wanted you to move on with your life."

Tor smiled through his tears, "Very subtle, Pietro." He took a sip from his coffee cup and waved the servant away. "You may retire for the night. Thank you."

He could feel Pietro glaring at him as if the other man could force Tor to see with the sheer power of his stare. Larien always said Pietro's frigid gray eyes must be chipped from polar glaciers in order to achieve their chill. One of the benefits of being mostly blind was that he could ignore icy stares.

"Remember what I said, Master. Mr. Jall lived for your smile. Don't disappoint his memory by forgetting how to."

With that parting shot, Tor heard the door close softly.

"You are sad this evening."

Baroy's voice echoed through Tor's head in a soft whisper like a stray word carried on a breeze. The soft buzzing of the space dragon's voice was both comforting and abrasive. Tor's life had changed forever when he'd bonded with a baby space dragon at the tender age of five. As far as he knew, he was the youngest being, human or not, to survive a matching with the rare breed.

"I am missing my mate," he mentally sent back to the dragon.

"You are missing your lover," the dragon corrected. "You have yet to meet your mate."

"That doesn't make it less painful."

"No, it doesn't."

A burst of bitter laughter ripped through him.

"If it hurts this much to lose a lover, I don't want a mate."

"It isn't a matter of want. It is a matter of fate. You will meet your mate soon. I have foreseen it."

Chills shivered up and down Tor's spine.

The dragon was never wrong. The creature was even more accurate than Tor's daughter, Alexandra, who was a born seer.

"I don't want a mate," he repeated. Tor wondered if saying it enough times would make the nebulous mate vanish from his future.

His heart still cried for Larien. Tor wasn't ready to risk it again.

"All things happen in their own time."

Great. Just what he needed, more sage sayings from a cryptic dragon. Tor felt Baroy leave his mind.

"I'm surrounded by beings with great parting lines." Sighing, Tor took another drink of coffee. In times like these he could almost feel Larien, as if his lover were still beside him. He whispered to the empty room, "I will never forget you, my love."

He didn't care what the court thought a 'natural' mourning period was. In his heart, two years were simultaneously a blink in the cosmos and a crawling eternity of sorrow.

Monday, July 11, 2011

A Prideless Man by Amber Kell

Book three in the Supernatural Mates Series

Sometimes people aren’t quite what they seem.

James Everett moved to a shifter town to escape his shifter-hating father. Little did he expect to catch the eye of the town’s sheriff. Louis Arktos can’t resist the new human.

Something about the other man calls to his bear shifter nature and makes him want to protect the human from all the dangers in the world. When James’ life is turned inside out, Lou rushes to save him from unexpected dangers and most of all from himself.


James Everett woke up and made the mistake of moving. Pain ripped through his body like burning brands. Gasping, he blinked back tears while trying to keep still. By now he should know better than to try any motion first thing in the morning. His Rheumatoid Arthritis made waking every morning a new definition of agony. Only the medicine his father cooked up in his lab relieved the pain. He grabbed his bottle of medication, wincing as the pills made a light rattling noise inside the container. Shit, he was almost out. He didn’t want to have to call his father. He hadn’t talked to him since their last fight over Shifter rights.

A man that fanatical had to be wrong.

That’s why he’d moved to this town. To learn more about the creatures his father branded as evil and James had always found so fascinating, especially the lions. The lion pride kept him here. He didn’t know why, but when they came into town he always felt an uncontrollable urge to join them. Not only because of the gorgeous alpha—it was very clear Talan was devoted to his little wolf—but because something about the lions called to him.

Watching the alpha and his mate made James long for a relationship of his own, but who would want a skinny guy on heavy pain medication? Or when touching caused screams of agony, instead of moans of pleasure. Yeah, he was a real catch.

Slowly he rotated his wrists, easing the joints into their assigned roles of moving through the day. Next his fingers got attention as he stretched his hands, listening to the sickening popping noises they made as he flexed each digit. Curling his toes he listened for the crackles before rotating his ankles. Hell, with all the crackling, snapping and popping he was his own breakfast cereal. Eventually, his familiar routine paid off and his aching joints loosened enough to sit up. A cry of pain tore from his chest as he shifted positions. He quickly stifled further sounds. He didn’t want anyone running to his rescue. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. If she found him suffering, his holistically-inclined landlady wouldn’t hesitate to recommend at least a dozen homemade remedies. She’d already hinted as much. James wasn’t fooled into thinking they would work. He’d tried every possible solution before he turned ten. By twenty-three there weren’t any new treatments to try anymore.

Unlike most people with arthritis, weather didn’t affect his RA, and neither did his amount of activity. In a moment of whimsy he once told his father it was probably the phases of the moon causing the flare ups. His father’s screaming response proved the man had absolutely no sense of humour.

Looking around his small apartment James felt depression descend again—not for the size of the apartment, but for its solitude. He could afford a bigger place. His trust fund was large enough. However, he liked the small MIL unit he rented at Ms Tyler’s house. She was a sweet Labrador shifter and though she said he smelt off, once he assured her the scent was medication, not inherent evil, she happily rented him the place.

James tried to save as much money as possible since his constant pain made it impossible to hold down a steady job and he had no idea how long his trust fund would need to stretch. Currently he taught classes online which finally let him find a use for his expensive college education.

Sliding into his ergonomic leather desk chair, James popped his pills and booted up his laptop while waiting for the drugs to take effect. He sometimes took extra medication on really bad days, but he hated how loopy the drugs made him feel. He’d rather suffer through pain than walk around in a drug-fuelled haze, especially if he ran into the sheriff again.

His cheeks burned whenever he thought of the sexy bear shifter. Sheriff Louis Arktos, a big barrel-chested bear shifter with black hair and dark eyes, starred in all of James’ hottest daydreams. He’d seen the other man watching him from time to time, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up. After all, what did he have to offer such a strong, fit manly man? Some days he could barely make it across the room without screaming.

Sighing over the hopelessness of his infatuation, James logged into the college website and answered several emails from his students. His slow two-fingered typing took forever, but eventually he got through them all. After he finished working he checked his personal email account. His father’s name sat in bold text squatting at the top of his inbox like a waiting spider beckoning him to its web. With strong resolve he closed his email and shut down the computer. He would deal with his father tomorrow. He had no idea how to explain to his shifter-phobic parent about moving to a town almost completely populated by shape shifters.

* * * *

“I haven’t seen him yet, Sheriff.”

Lou looked away from the window and into the amused eyes of his waitress, Kelly. “Who’s that?”

“Now, Sheriff, we both know you’re waiting for that odd-smelling boy.” The deer shifter waitress gave him a sweet smile.

“He doesn’t smell odd. He smells wonderful.” Beneath all the medication, James’ scent drove Lou wild even as he wondered about the human’s health problems. The pain the other man suffered carved deep lines on either side of his mouth and the slow methodical way he moved made Lou wince with sympathy and wish he could comfort the stoic human.

“We all know you’ve got it bad for him. The only thing I wonder about is why he fights it. He wants you so bad even Blaire commented on how he looks at you.”