Summary:
Brian is the alpha of the least impressive pack of wolves at the whole Moon Ceremony. When a human is discovered uninvited in their midst, he bonds with the man to save his life.
Luke doesn't know about all this wolf stuff, but he’s starting to develop feelings for the gentle man who rescued him. Both Brian and Luke expect to quietly dissolve the bond later. But feelings intervene, and some bonds are not so easy to cast aside.
Building a life together as alphas will take love and hard work—especially when new wolves keep inviting themselves into their lives.
Summary:
Kings of Hell MC #4
--- There can be no shadow without the man to cast it. ---
Gray. Lost his twin. Will never be complete. Works alone.
Shadow. Monster? Human? Exists to be Gray’s one true companion.
After losing his twin brother, Gray has devoted his life to the Kings of Hell MC. He will do anything to protect his family and that means anything.
Even sell his own shadow to the devil.
Following a fire that left him without one arm, Gray feels pushed to the sidelines. In order to prove to his club that he is still capable of completing dangerous tasks, he will have to team up with the strange creature from the Other Side. Tall, inhumanly strong, and menacing despite the handsome exterior, Shadow is just the tool Gray needs.
The moment Shadow lays his eyes on Gray, he wants to crawl under Gray’s skin and make the human his.
Gray on the other hand isn’t willing to get attached to a monster destined to do the devil’s bidding and disappear once his time is up. Rejected, Shadow has to do everything in his power to convince his human that they belong together.
But as the clock ticks away precious minutes of Shadow’s existence, Gray will have to choose between his loyalty to the Kings of Hell MC and responsibility for the creature he brought into this world.
*****
“Do you feel me running through your veins?”
Gray nodded.
*****
POSSIBLE SPOILERS:
Themes: motorcycle club, alternative lifestyles, demons, monster, tattoos, secrets, crime, gothic, grief, mourning, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fish out of water, opposites attract, demisexuality, gentle giant
Genre: Dark, paranormal M/M romance
Erotic content: Scorching hot, emotional, explicit scenes
Length: ~150,000 words (Book 4 in the series)
WARNING: This story contains scenes of violence, offensive language, and morally ambiguous characters.
Saturday's Series Spotlight: Kings of Hell MC by KA Merikan Part 1
Gray's had a bit of a rough time lately: he lost his twin brother, his arm, and made a pact with the demon, Baal. Because of Gray's pact, Shadow has been given the chance to live inside a human form but does that make him human or monster? Gray has devoted his entire life to the Kings of Hell but now with only one arm he finds himself having to prove he is still worthy of his position. Reluctantly Gray finds that Shadow may be his chance to keep his place amongst his brothers but will he be willing to give his heart to him nowing the clock is ticking against Shadow?
OMG!!! I say that with complete honesty because I am so NOT an OMG-kind-of-a-gal. I enjoy a good motorcycle club story but I'm the first to admit they aren't exactly what I'd classify as my go-to-trope so when I first had the opportunity last year to read Laurant & the Beast I thought it sounded interesting so I decided to give it a go. It was amazing and one of the best books I read in 2017. Each entry in the Kings of Hell MC series has been amazing and although I don't think any of the pairings quite reached me as much as Laurant and Beast, I have loved them all. Well, Gray and Shadow are no different.
So lets take a look at our two main guys. I knew Gray's story was going to be emotional just because he seemed to be a bit of a conundrum throughout the first four. You could tell he had a warm loving heart but he was also ruthless and determined when it came to getting the job done. Having formed that opinion of him already I knew he was going to be a tough one to find happiness especially with what he lost. I wanted to hug him and tell him he was still the same Gray he always was and having lost his arm didn't change that but then I also wanted to kick his ass with how he first treats Shadow. Okay that's not entirely true because Shadow is here because of Gray's pact with Baal and that makes him suspect and he does some not-so-good stuff but he's also new to his human form and needs guidance. I guess what I'm saying is even though I wanted to give Gray a knuckle-rap to the head more than a once I also understand his thought patterns.
As for Shadow, well I won't give too much away but I will say that his innocence is endearing even if some of his early actions are not. I have read vampires, shifters, demons of all kinds who survive on pretty much anything imaginable but I have never read a character(demon or otherwise) that survives on rats, creepy crawlies, and rotting, moldy food and still want to wrap him up in a huge bear hug because he's so adorable. Yes, you read that correctly. Shadow is adorable. How Gray is able to stay away for so long is beyond me.
In Gray's Shadow, we get to see the characters that we have come to love in the previous installments, to see where they are and how they are adjusting to their situations which sometimes can take away from the main story but not in this series. KA Merikan has created a world with Kings of Hell MC that is unforgettable and will grab you from the very first page. If asked whether you can start with Gray's Shadow, I would have to say no. Yes, each entry features a different couple with their own troubles but each one is a part of an ongoing journey but personally, I would not recommend starting anywhere but the beginning, not too mention these are some of the most amazing and well written stories I've ever read, you don't want to miss them. If you haven't started Kings of Hell yet but don't like to wait between books than you might want to wait until the concluding story, In the Arms of the Beast, is released but I highly recommend placing this series on your TBR list and near the top, but if you are like me and have been reading them as they come out then you don't want to wait another minute to read Gray and Shadow's journey. This is literally an edge-of-your-seat kind of story.
RATING:
Summary:
A sinister vampire offers Charon a choice he can’t refuse: play a deadly game of winner takes all, losers die.
Charon relishes the competition and molds himself into a sexy vampire who defies vampire law, savoring his power and embracing the role of villain. He also loves surrounding himself with hot young men. But when an alluring vampire stalks him and threatens to turn him into the Vampire Council unless he helps with a seemingly impossible task, will Charon risk his perfectly narcissistic life on the challenge? Does he have any other choice?
The Altered by Annabelle Jacobs
Summary:
Lycanaeris #1
Twenty years ago the UK’s water supply was contaminated with an experimental pathogen, Lycanaeris, causing widespread panic across the nation. Terrorism was suspected but never proven, and when nothing happened--no epidemic, no unexplained illnesses--the whole episode was written off as an elaborate hoax. But Lycanaeris was selective. Only those of a certain age, and with a specific gene in their DNA were infected. Time would reveal the pathogen’s true nature, when those susceptible grew up Altered.
Daniel is one of thousands forced to hide his altered status by living a quiet life. He’s not like the others, though. Daniel can’t help looking so distinctive or being able to see every altered for what they really are. To those abducting altereds, that skill makes him valuable.
For Jordan, shifting from human to wolf means living under the radar to avoid unwanted attention. Meeting Daniel complicates matters. Daniel’s existence is a threat to Jordan and his friends, but Jordan can’t seem to shake the strange connection between them. When danger threatens, there’s little time for Daniel and Jordan to work out their feelings before lives are at stake.
Summary:
Thorns and Fangs #1
Nate is caught between two dangerously hot vampires who can compel people to do whatever they want and a ruthless necromancer who wants Nate for all the wrong reasons—and that’s only the start of his problems.
Escort Nate prides himself on two things: his ability to please his clients and his normality – living in the monster capital of the world, ordinary is rare. Hunter, a darkly charming vampire with more charisma than is good for him, decides Nate is just what he needs. Nate’s sympathetic nature and skill in the bedroom are put to the ultimate test. But Hunter wants Nate for someone else – his brother, Ben. Nate is immediately attracted by the control with which Ben holds his sensitive nature in force. Too afraid of becoming a monster to allow himself to feel, Ben struggles to resist Nate’s generosity of emotion. As Nate’s normal world crumbles around him, and he desperately searches for a way to save Ben, Nate is becoming the necromancer’s latest victim.
Nate is forced to let go of and embrace powers he doesn’t fully understand. In defiance of Ben’s vampire sire and hunted by Department Seven, Nate and Ben finally learn to trust and rely on each other.
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Random Paranormal Tales of 2018
Brian's Mate by Hollis Shiloh
The Vampire's Protege by Damian Serbu
Chapter One
“BRIAN,” SAID Leo Conway, sticking his head around the corner of the breakfast buffet. “We’ve got a problem. I think you’d better see.”
Brian Zonski, alpha of the Zonski pack (such as it was), put down his plate of bacon, eggs, and waffles, and followed Alpha Conway.
Zonski was the tiniest pack among the members of the Farn-Group New York wolves’ fraternity; at least, it was the tiniest pack that hadn’t merged with another pack. There were only his brother, sister-in-law, and two cubs besides Brian. And they weren’t here yet. Brian was pretty much the least-alpha alpha around.
The fact that Conway, a bear-shaped, jovial, powerful man with short hair, was seeking his help was something extraordinary. Brian followed him from the sprawling country hotel, out the wide double front doors, and into the green beyond. Around them, tents spread; not everyone fit inside, even big as the hotel was. As an alpha, Brian was assured a room of his own, but it was a tiny apartment near the back, and he could hear the maids getting fresh linen every morning before he was quite ready to wake up.
They hurried past the tents silently, eager not to wake anyone. The campfire dance and the stories, songs, matchmaking, and running through the woods the night before had been rousing, but exhausting, and many of them probably hadn’t dropped off till dawn.
It was, Brian had to admit to himself if no one else, pretty miserable being an alpha without a pack. He had nothing to do but watch. No ceremonies to perform. No introductions to make. No nothing, though he had gotten in some hunting last night, which was satisfying. There was nothing quite like eating rabbit fresh-caught in his wolf form.
“Down here,” said Leo in a whisper, treading quicker now, but silently, as the big man always managed to do. When he was younger, Brian had a bit of a crush on Leo.
They came upon a green clearing and stopped abruptly. Two of Leo’s men stood guard, looking even more worried than their alpha. They looked at him like he would have all the answers. And now, drawing closer, Brian saw what they were guarding.
A small man, seated on the ground in grass-stained jeans, with his knees drawn up to his chest. He had soft, pale-brown hair and a hunted expression in his huge, darting eyes. If he’d been a bit younger, Brian would’ve thought he looked about to cry. He was perhaps in his midtwenties, but no older. He had a slender build and didn’t look strong enough to possibly need two grown men guarding him.
“Leo?” asked Brian, turning to his friend. “What’s up?”
“This… man… was here this morning. Asleep. He must’ve snuck onto pack land somehow. He’s not one of us.”
“No,” agreed Brian, taking a deep sniff. He could smell it now: fully human. The man’s scent intrigued him, though. He clearly hadn’t bathed for a while, and his clothes carried his sweat and hints of his semen, too. But surprisingly, the maleness of the scent didn’t irritate Brian, as strong scents often did. Some humans went around reeking of hormones, but whatever this guy was leaking from his pores smelled damned good to Brian.
He moved closer without meaning to. A single step. The seated man drew his knees closer to his chest and shivered. He cast Brian a defiant look, despite his bloodless, frightened face. “Just because I’m not a Native American, that’s no reason to kill me! There are still laws here, you know.”
“Kill him?” Brian turned to Leo, surprised by the rush of angry protectiveness he felt. “What?” His words came out in almost a growl.
Leo grimaced. He raised and lowered his hand quickly, shushing him. “Keep your voice down. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He looked around furtively, and stepped nearer. “The laws say we have to kill any intruder during Moon Ceremony. You know that. That’s why we always have guards. I don’t understand how this guy could’ve snuck past them, last night of all nights, but he was clearly here—”
“I was taking pictures,” said the human, sniffing. “Is it illegal to take pictures in pretty wilderness areas now?” He started to move, then thought better of it, and jerked his chin toward a camera that lay on the ground several feet away, next to a dilapidated backpack and a pair of old motorcycle boots.
Brian looked down at the man’s feet, and realized he was staring at rather dirty, damp, once-white socks. He didn’t know why that gave him such a curling feeling of joy inside, just that he suddenly thought those small, smelly feet were some of the cutest he’d ever seen. He had to suppress a wildly inappropriate laugh at himself.
“It’s still on the books. It’s one of our more serious laws. He has to die. Unless….”
Brian couldn’t bear to see the man flinch again, or the dull fear replacing his defiance. Brian stepped in front of Leo. “Do you have to say this in front of him?” he asked, irritation adding a sarcastic tinge to his voice.
“It’s all right,” said the man in a shaken voice. “If you’re going to kill me, I at least deserve to know.”
“We’re not.” Brian spoke with absolute certainty. “Are we, Leo?” He turned back to his friend, eyes flashing.
Leo reached up and scratched at his short hair, clearing his throat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. If anybody needs more pack members….” He looked embarrassed to be saying even that much, and he clearly wasn’t going to spell it out further.
Brian gaped at him as the plan became clear. It was ludicrously simple—and not simple at all. All he had to do was claim Leo, before the rest of the clans and the head alpha found out, and nobody could touch him. There would be no blood on anyone’s hands. He would simply have this man—this stranger, this human—as a part of his clan.
“You could undo it later, after Moon,” Leo said quickly, rushing ahead. “Just think about it. Do you really think the head alpha would bend the rules?” He snorted. “Not Farn. And my men found him. I don’t want to be party to any bloodshed, Brian.” He put a hand on his shoulder, looking deep into Brian’s eyes. “I can’t take anyone new. It would be too hard, with the expectant mothers. Too much upheaval, and our resources are already thin. You have room. You could look after him till after Moon.” He said everything but please, but his eyes said that, too.
Brian nodded. “Yes. Of course. Of course I will.” He reached up and gripped Leo’s shoulder in return, hard. Then he turned to the man crouching between two guards. Had they hurt him? Was that why he flinched when one drew a bit nearer, why he hadn’t dared move even to reach for his camera? Despite the situation, and the danger of an intruder finding out about their lives, Brian felt a slow surge of anger churn in his guts. The wolf in him had heard and decided; this man was his.
And nobody touched one of his pack.
Just then, wolves in their human form burst into the clearing. Leading them was the large-shouldered Race Ginsin, Head Alpha Farn Ginsin’s son and head enforcer. His father, slightly shorter and going gray, followed in his footsteps. Both had fire in their eyes.
Several of their men flanked them, all carrying weapons ranging from knives to guns and machetes. Ginsin clan always had had a fetish for weapons.
“What’s going on here?” demanded Race. “Someone said an intruder—”
“My newest pack member has arrived,” said Brian. He stepped in front of his new man, standing on guard. Race’s eyebrows shot up and he stopped in his tracks, blinking. His father elbowed past him and glared down Brian.
Brian was the same height as the barrel-chested Head Alpha, but wasn’t nearly as strong. Yet he faced the man levelly. “He is mine,” said Brian.
Farn took a deep, angry sniff, drawing his lips back like he was snarling. “Human. And you do not have my permission to add pack members,” ground out the head alpha in a slow, low growl. It sent Brian’s hackles rising, both literally and metaphorically. He kept his hands squeezed shut, to avoid making claws or raising angry fists. He was going there, was he? How dare he?
“I didn’t ask your permission. He’s my mate.”
Everyone gaped at that. Maybe Brian did a little, too. Farn even took a step back. Then his angry little eyes squeezed farther shut and he stepped forward again, pushing a finger against Brian’s chest and tapping him twice on the sternum, hard. Each rap felt like a blow, but Brian didn’t move.
“If he is your mate, you can’t have any other from among my wolves. Ever.”
Brian gulped, hard. But he didn’t back down. He knew what he had promised now, but the wolf in him would not back down, nor would the man. If Farn thought Brian would step back with this threat and allow him to kill an innocent, well, he had some serious issues that didn’t start or end with being an alpha. Even the Head Alpha.
“That’s your decision,” said Brian levelly.
“Then on your head be it. Men!” Farn turned around and muscled his way through the meadow, back to the encampment.
Brian stood there, with his fists clenched at his sides, his heart pounding and his adrenaline pumping.
Leo gave him a shocked look, all the blood drained from his face. “I am so sorry, Bry. Maybe—maybe we can get around… can fix this somehow. After a few months have passed.”
“No,” said Brian, surprisingly calmly. “He won’t forget, and neither will his son.” He shrugged. “It’s not like anyone’s been a good match for me so far. I’ll just… live with it.”
Leo touched his arm, a compassionate gesture, and then they both turned as one to the man shivering on the ground.
Brian felt some of his anger and sorrow drifting away at the sight of the man, his huge eyes and his chattering teeth. He felt his face softening into a rueful smile. “Oh, come on, Big Eyes. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”
“Y-you’re not going to kill me, then?” said the man.
“Of course not. Didn’t you hear? You’re part of my pack now.”
Brian reached out, caught his hand, and tugged him to his feet. The touch was surprisingly pleasant. He tugged the man toward him, catching him against his side when he would have fallen on his own, either from hunger, fear, or just rising too quickly and unbalancing. He smelled his scent even stronger here, and it was an intoxicating smell.
“Your p-pack,” said the man.
“Yes,” said Brian calmly. “Could you tell me your name? Or should I just give you one, since I’m your alpha now?”
He was teasing, but the man just blinked at him in confusion. “I’m… your mate. You said it. What, um….” He looked away suddenly, blushing.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” promised Brian in a soothing voice, tightening his arm around the slim, shivering shoulders. “It’s just an official designation. Come on. Quick shower, big breakfast, you’ll feel a world of difference.” Giving him a reassuring pat on the arm, he led the reeling man away. Past the tents quickly as he could, not eager for anyone to see his mate in this vulnerable condition. Then into the building and toward his room just as swiftly. Leo followed, carrying the man’s gear. Brian would have forgotten it.
“What’s your name?” he asked again.
“Luke,” said the human, leaning against him, swaying heavily. He reached up, grabbing for something to hold on to as he nearly fell.
Without a second’s thought, Brian scooped the man up into his arms. He felt the pull in his muscles, but it didn’t deter him. He carried him the rest of the way. And instead of protesting, Luke hid his face in Brian’s neck, his breath hitching. He squeezed handfuls of Brian’s shirt, and Brian realized, from the soft hitches in his throat and from the feel of hot, damp wetness, that the man had taken all he could and was now crying.
He hurried the last few steps, keeping him turned away so Leo couldn’t guess. “Thanks, Leo. Leave the things here,” he said breathlessly, because Luke was rather heavy, really. The room was nice, with a big bed, a tiny kitchenette, and a private bathroom.
Leo set the things down, gave him a quick, compassionate nod, and removed himself, pulling the door quietly but firmly shut after him.
Brian hugged Luke tight for a moment, then regretfully put him down on the bed. “It’s all right,” he said gruffly. “I’ll look after you now. No one will hurt you, I promise.”
Luke looked away, biting his lip and shaking his head. He reached up to smear at his face. “What did…?” He cleared his throat. “What did he mean by ‘pack’ and ‘wolf’ stuff? Is that what you call this Native American stuff?”
“We’re not Native Americans,” said Luke. Then he snorted. “Well, I suppose in some sense, the wolves were here before men, but… nope. We’re shifters. You know, ‘werewolves’?” He could see he’d astonished the man, so he sat down on the floor, to make himself smaller and less intimidating. He smiled up at the tear-stained face regarding him warily.
“You’re joking,” said Luke cautiously. He sniffed again loudly, and fumbled at his pockets without success. “Damn it—”
Without a word, Brian pulled out his handkerchief and handed it over.
“Thanks.” Luke blew his nose loudly. “S-so if you’re a werewolf, prove it. I promise I w-won’t scream,” he said tremulously.
“It doesn’t matter if you do, though my ears are kind of sensitive in my wolf form.”
“Um.” He looked at Brian warily. “You mean it, don’t you? You really think you’re—”
Brian stood up, leaned closer, and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s all right. I’ll show you later.” He couldn’t stand to frighten Luke anymore right now. And the human did look relieved. “Come on, let’s get you a hot shower and some clean clothes, and I’ll get a big breakfast.” He helped Luke to his feet and held his arm, leading him gently to the small bathroom.
In the doorway to the small room, Luke pulled his arm free. “I can take my own shower, you know.”
“Prove it.” Brian leaned forward and gave him a wink and a quick, lopsided grin.
Luke gaped at him. Then he turned on his heel and went into the bathroom, shutting the door hastily behind him.
“I’ll leave you some clothes!” called Brian through the closed door. He moved away to find some things that might fit his new mate. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, he was whistling.
He didn’t want to leave Luke alone even for a second, but while the water was running, he hurried down to get breakfast for them both, piling two plates high from the buffet and carrying them on a tray back to the room. He was almost running. Still, the shower was done by the time he got back. And just as he entered the room, the bathroom door opened, and out stepped a gorgeous, trim, covered-only-by-a-towel Luke. His hair stood up in wet tangles, and his big, blue eyes looked shocked. He grabbed the clothes Brian had left for him and retreated quickly, slamming the door.
Oh my. His chest… his perfect, slightly hairy, slightly bowlegged legs…. He was just damned gorgeous.
Brian swallowed hard and told his cock to behave; it wasn’t time for that. He didn’t even know if Luke liked men. Except his wolf side said he did; said he’d already smelled it, knew it deep in his bones, and the bubbling gladness inside him was because this really was his mate, the man he wanted for the rest of his life. Even if he was human.
Gray's Shadow by KA Merikan
Shadow opened one eye, watching the water as if it were toxic waste, but in the end he followed Gray’s request, and stepped in with one foot. His slouching shoulders rose at once, and the ruby eyes glinted in wonder. “It’s warm,” he said and packed his massive body into the tub with no lingering hesitation.
Gray shut his eyes when scented drops hit his face. “Well, yeah. And it smells nice, doesn’t it?” he asked before mentally chastising himself for talking to the creature as if he were a child.
Shadow gathered the water into his hands and poured it over his head time and time again until his thick hair ran straight down and into the water. He seemed to love splashing about, but while soaking in scented water was a good start, he still needed a wash. “It does. I was scared it would be freezing like last time,” he said with a genuine smile.
Right. Last time. When Gray had blasted Shadow with an icy shower as punishment for the attack. Being alone with Shadow had Gray on pins and needles, but he had since decided Shadow’s behavior shouldn’t be measured against that of humans. Still, it was hard to comprehend that a creature who killed two men less than an hour ago could be ‘scared’ of a cold bath.
“Back then, I was angry at you. Needed you to cool off,” Gray said.
The red eyes were pinned to Gray’s face, hungry for knowledge. “Why?”
Gray leaned on the edge of the tub, watching the strands of hair float close to the surface. He was glad he’d chosen to use the bath milk, because it gave the water a tint that obscured details of Shadow’s anatomy that he shouldn’t be wanting to see.
Shadow opened one eye, watching the water as if it were toxic waste, but in the end he followed Gray’s request, and stepped in with one foot. His slouching shoulders rose at once, and the ruby eyes glinted in wonder. “It’s warm,” he said and packed his massive body into the tub with no lingering hesitation.
Gray shut his eyes when scented drops hit his face. “Well, yeah. And it smells nice, doesn’t it?” he asked before mentally chastising himself for talking to the creature as if he were a child.
Shadow gathered the water into his hands and poured it over his head time and time again until his thick hair ran straight down and into the water. He seemed to love splashing about, but while soaking in scented water was a good start, he still needed a wash. “It does. I was scared it would be freezing like last time,” he said with a genuine smile.
Right. Last time. When Gray had blasted Shadow with an icy shower as punishment for the attack. Being alone with Shadow had Gray on pins and needles, but he had since decided Shadow’s behavior shouldn’t be measured against that of humans. Still, it was hard to comprehend that a creature who killed two men less than an hour ago could be ‘scared’ of a cold bath.
“Back then, I was angry at you. Needed you to cool off,” Gray said.
The red eyes were pinned to Gray’s face, hungry for knowledge. “Why?”
Gray leaned on the edge of the tub, watching the strands of hair float close to the surface. He was glad he’d chosen to use the bath milk, because it gave the water a tint that obscured details of Shadow’s anatomy that he shouldn’t be wanting to see.
The Vampire's Protege by Damian Serbu
Prologue
Introducing Charon
Everyone thinks they adore the Vampire Council with its rules and regulations that allegedly govern all vampires and thereby ensure the safety of virtuous humans. People want to lose themselves in the tales of the Council members: Xavier and Thomas and their love; Anthony and Jaret and their guarding of humanity; Catherine and Harriet and their whims within a righteous vampiric empire. Most of all, the Vampire Ethic provides comfort with its guarantee that goodness protects an individual from a vampire attack, with its promise that all vampires defend innocence.
Vampires accept this reality because it gives them a collective soul. The ethic protects them from the stereotype of evil incarnate preying upon humanity. Or, in the least, obedience to it keeps them alive, lest the Council hunt them down and murder them for transgressions against it.
Humans desire the Council’s laws to maintain their fantasy of security from the supernatural realms. Who would dismiss a hidden force of vampire police that might swoop in at any sign of danger and annihilate the perpetrator?
Yet deep inside, so many long for something different, something that avoids this utopian trope and perfect world, all tied up in a pretty bow. Part of everyone, that piece so desperately stamped down and derided, seeks an alternative story.
To be sure, many will deny it. Fight against these words and honorably cast them out as the devil’s temptations. Yet no proof of Satan or such demonic forces presents itself. Because even those thoughts really stem from the inner being in everyone, that secretly locked-up atom inside a person that pines for freedom and seeks release, even as the goodness scolds it.
Still people contest these words. Deny them.
Yet a fascination with villains thrives in America. Think of the great antiheroes of history and their legendary fame. The Wicked Witch of the West. Darth Vader. Hannibal Lecter. The Joker. The infamy of historic figures such as Adolf Hitler or Ted Bundy or the Son of Sam. The people who don the costumes at Halloween of Lord Voldemort, Dracula, or Vlad the Impaler because it empowers them for a night with beautiful wickedness. People laugh at Scar, Ursula, and even Mr. Potter. They read the tales of Lex Luther and Cujo, privately wishing they would eventually triumph over the heroes of the story and bring a bit of destruction to the globe.
Jack the Ripper lives through the ages because he successfully hid himself, true. But also because his perfect malevolence went unpunished. People want that for themselves. His legend draws them back again and again to that story with the hope of their own misdeeds going unchallenged.
Thus, whether admitted or not, people long to meet Charon. Yes, so many cry out for Charon and his story. People want him. Readers desire him, need him, really. The world will have no choice but to love him. All will embrace him as they have these other villains of history. They will celebrate his perfect treachery.
Unlike those obedient to the Vampire Council, Charon hardly worries about a bit of notoriety from time to time. Fear of retribution never enters his vocabulary. He need not concern himself with the Vampire Council and its regulations. Nor does Charon often fret over any other person or entity cracking down on his masterful empire.
Art Heist
31 January 2015
New York City, New York
Charon walked briskly through the darkening night as soon as the moon called to him. His mission hurried him past several tasty-looking young men, despite the hunger for their blood that lurked in his belly. He hardly paused to admire the New York City skyline as he passed the Empire State Building.
He reached into his pocket and reviewed the instructions one more time. It still bothered him that the man demanded that so much money be transferred into a Swiss account before he would provide this information. Naturally, Charon killed him as soon as he handed over the plans, but he nonetheless lost those funds, which now went to the gent’s family. Not that he needed the money with his otherwise vast wealth. It was the idea of the man somehow getting one up on him that disturbed him.
Charon crumpled the paper and threw it into a trash can, right before he turned down a darkened alley. Charon swiftly moved upon the security guard, twisted his neck, and shoved him aside. His vampire abilities recalled the instructions perfectly and shut down the museum’s entire security system without alerting outside authorities.
Charon ripped off his black outer garments and brushed off the John Varvatos suit, making sure he looked completely impeccable. The suit fit his muscular body perfectly, framing him into the most desirable twenty-something-year-old man in the city. He glanced in a window at his reflection to fix a strand of his short sandy hair before moving toward the front door of the Museum of Modern Art.
Tricia waited, as expected, at the front door and began to unlock it as he approached. Her conservative blue business suit hardly fit the tight body underneath, though the hose showed off an alluring calf, or at least Charon imagined it would be for those so inclined.
As she opened the door, she peered around nervously and nodded to a nearby guard before looking at Charon. “Mr. Haden,” she whispered, “I’m afraid we have to cancel our plans.”
“Blade, please.” Charon smiled brightly.
Tricia blushed. “Blade. Our security system went down. Or, at least it seems so from the front desk here. The guards are looking into it. But I don’t think I can take you into the museum until we get it back online.”
Charon’s shoulders slumped, and he pouted. “I leave early in the morning. I so wanted this private viewing. I hate to try to blackmail you”—he grinned—“but my donation was contingent upon seeing it alone with you.”
Tricia fidgeted with the keys in her hand. “Please, step inside so I can at least relock the outer door.”
Charon walked inside and nonchalantly brushed against her, making sure their hands touched ever so slightly. He hovered close and spoke in a whisper. “Is there anything we can do to change this? I’m in a hurry. Though I might be able to get a bite to eat afterward, to further discuss the art and my gift to the museum. If any charming and intelligent curator would join me, that is.”
“Let’s see what we can work out,” she whispered. Tricia giggled and looked around. “Come to my office.” She said this loudly, so the two closest guards heard her.
They moved toward a hallway and went around a corner, toward the small office where Charon had first negotiated this deal with the single woman in her thirties. He plied her with stories of his love for art, true enough, and then added the insinuations of a single man’s longing for a spouse and kids, all complete fabrications. She shared the same longing and flirted with him shamelessly. His initial check for a few thousand dollars, drawn from an untraceable account, convinced her of his trustworthiness, and here he sauntered, almost at his real goal.
While plenty of evidence revealed his first meeting, nothing would record his appearance here tonight.
Just before reaching Tricia’s office, she dashed down a side hall and picked up her pace. “If they know I’m doing this, they’ll stop me. Come on.”
“Aren’t you in charge tonight?”
Tricia pressed the elevator button three times. “Technically. But with this glitch in the system, not really. I’m too low on the totem pole, so to speak.”
Inside the elevator, Charon held his tongue because Tricia wiggled around nervously, and sweat broke out on her brow.
He placed his hand gently on her back. “Relax.” He patted her. “We’ll just take a peek and get out of here.”
She nodded, sighed, but then grinned at him. When the door slid open, she again scurried away with Charon in tow.
She smiled at the guard standing nearby. “Thomas, Bill wanted you to help him in the other wing with something because of the outage. I said that I’d watch over The Starry Night until you got back.”
“Why didn’t he call me on this thing?” Thomas tapped his walkie-talkie.
Tricia shrugged. “No idea.”
Thomas shook his head and walked down the hall. When he turned the corner, Tricia raced the last few feet to the painting.
She screeched to a halt in front of The Starry Night and stepped aside, motioning for Charon to stand in front of it. Charon scanned the area, but no guards were in sight.
“Join me.” He reached over, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her close.
Just as Tricia began to resist, Charon latched tightly onto her, yanked her close, and leaned down and bit fiercely into her neck. Her warm blood flowed delightfully down his throat until her heart stopped and he dropped her to the floor. He hardly took notice as images of her innocent life passed through his mind because of the blood. Who cared about another lost and lonely soul?
“Aren’t you beautiful?” Charon asked the painting as he took hold of it.
Time for some vampire speed. Charon clutched the painting close to him and ran with supernatural speed through the building. Even pausing to unlock the front door with Tricia’s keys went so quickly that no one spotted him. He never slowed until safely back in his hidden lair, deep underground.
Charon placed the painting on a wall and sat back to admire it. “Exquisite!” He poured a Jack Daniel’s and Coke, deciding to stay in for the rest of the night and enjoy his latest acquisition. The boys back at his palace would love it. And Tricia, after all, satisfied his hunger for the night. He lost count of how many times he’d visited the museum to visit this particular Van Gogh, perhaps his favorite painting in the entire world. How delightful to add it to his private collection.
Thorns and Fangs by Gillian St. Kevern
I will never be the same again.
The premonition was a cold whisper against the back of Nate’s neck. It spread like frost, cool tendrils sliding down his shoulders to take root in his spine. Hard to shake off, even harder to ignore.
Nothing will ever be the same.
“So your regular doesn’t show. It’s not the end of the world, Aki.” Nate turned, but no one stood next to him. The mixologist polished glasses at the far end of the bar, and the couple nearest Nate were only interested in each other. He was alone.
Or as alone as possible in the most popular club in New Camden.
The house DJ had turned up the lights and music to fill the gap left by the live band, and the dance floor was packed. Nate only had to stretch out his arm to touch someone. Strobe lights caught the lingering dry ice from the stage show, and the teasing play of light on the insubstantial mist gave the dancers a hint of its incorporeal mystery. Nate loved that, loved the thrill as he stepped onto the floor, as if the dancers might vanish before he reached them. The warmth of the bodies brushing against him always gave him a rush of triumph.
Tonight, with the premonition clammy on his skin, it looked more like smoke. Nate glanced over the bar. The red emergency box resembled an ordinary fire alarm. It was only when you noticed that the contents included a string of garlic, a flask and a sharpened wooden stake that the words registered—In Case of Vampires, Break Glass.
Vampires. I’ve been here six months and haven’t even seen a single bat! Nate snorted, turning back to the dance floor. New Camden might be home to the biggest population of supernaturals in the world, but none of them were getting in without strict adherence to Century’s dress code. The club’s security system was better than some banks, thanks to its unique nature (and New Camden’s unique risks), but management believed “better safe than scandal” and for very good reason. The club existed only through a very careful balancing act. It had the respectability afforded by success, just risqué enough to titillate its clients without alarming them. Security was a selling point, from the uniformed bouncers, prominently positioned at the front of the house, to the plainclothes security guards who mingled with the guests, and the alarm built into Nate’s wristband that connected directly to Department Seven, the branch of law enforcement that dealt directly with supernatural threats.
“Dracula himself couldn’t get in here without a spot check.” Except for the occasional newspaper headline about an empty tomb or werewolf attack, New Camden was just another big city. And the sooner Nate kicked this weird feeling of danger and remembered that, the better.
“Did I hear ‘pick up for table three’?” Aki leaned against the bar beside Nate. “You’re never going to make your repayments slacking off like that. Look at me. A round of seven cocktails, and that’s only the start.”
Nate looked over his fellow host’s head to table three. A cluster of girls in evening dresses. A hen do, or maybe college girls on a rite of passage. “Sucks to be me. You with a table full of girls, and me with only one client to my score.”
Aki was instantly suspicious. “It’s not even been a half hour.”
“Forty minutes.” Nate smirked. “Blow job, bonus, and I got time left over.”
“No way.” Aki snatched Nate’s wrist. “Show me your band.”
Nate grinned, letting Aki see the wristband. The thin strip of plastic hadn’t left his skin since he’d started working at Century. Where Aki’s displayed a thin green line down the middle, indicating that he was available, Nate’s was a dull black, invisible in the dark. Until the internal timer finished its slow countdown, Nate was a free agent.
“Un-fucking-believable.” Aki dropped Nate’s hand. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Nate stretched, enjoying the tug of his tight clothing against his body. “I’m just that good.”
“Just that desperate.” Aki shook his head. “I have got to teach you standards.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my choice of clients.”
Aki raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “Would I have done the guy?”
Nate bit his lip. He’d seen the man at the bar, toying with his glass as he watched two of the other hosts grind against each other on the floor. His blond hair was so thin it gave the unfortunate suggestion of baldness, and he was short enough anyone could see it. The older hosts definitely had. They made a point of avoiding eye contact.
Nate had ducked his head as he approached the guy. He couldn’t hide his height, but he’d emphasized the country drawl he usually downplayed. His youth did the rest. Presented with a challenge within his abilities, the man eagerly proved himself. He’d gone for a blow job in a partially lit corner of the club, fucking Nate’s mouth with overcompensatory fervor.
Method and means left much to be desired, but Nate got a kick out of being on display. Secure in himself, he’d played up to the guy, getting him off with charitable ease. In return, Nate got a bonus and hadn’t needed all his allotted cooldown time to freshen up. He considered his remaining twenty minutes of freedom worth it. But Aki?
“Only if it was the end of your shift,” Nate admitted. “And it was a slow night.”
Aki drummed his fingers against the bar. “How did I know? From now on, only hot guys count to the tally.”
“So no drink orders?”
Aki gave Nate a sour look as the mixologist slid a tray of drinks across the bar to Aki. All he was going to get from his table was drink orders. “Fine. Reset from now,” he said, struggling to lift the tray. “And no poaching. I saw you looking at the girls.”
“They’re looking at me.” Nate placed a hand beneath the heavy tray to steady it. “What are you going to get out of them besides make-up tips? Customer satisfaction above personal kicks.”
“Don’t quote training at me. I’ve been here an entire month longer than you.” Tray firmly in hand, Aki started toward his table.
Nate grinned at his back. Bickering with Aki was one of the perks of the job. Only a couple of months younger than Nate, Aki used his status as a New Camden native to win arguments. He lived up to the fast-talking, irreverent stereotype of the city, hands and mouth constantly in motion—when he wasn’t looking at his phone.
He was also extremely easy to wind up. Nate settled back against the bar, feeling the most like himself since he heard the whisper. Leave it to Aki. And he still had fifteen minutes of freedom.
The chill went through him before the voice spoke. Nate stood before a force implacably deep, so powerful it would change his entire world. As he struggled to understand the warning, the voice. Rich, warm, and inviting, it spoke straight to Nate’s core, stirring instincts Nate didn’t recognize as his own. He stared at the speaker, all poise forgotten.
The man smiled. Like Nate, he was dark haired and athletic. His slate-gray shirt and dark jacket clung to his trim form with the intimacy of expensive tailoring, and he stood with a confidence that made Nate, tall and broad shouldered, feel shorter. Somewhere in his late twenties, he looked from Nate’s metallic studded T-shirt to his face. The smile deepened into amusement. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a man buy you a drink before.”
Nate looked down to the two glasses on the bar beside him. A lime wedge and a generous splash of mint leaves marked it as his preferred on-the-job drink. “A mojito?” He deliberately leaned against the bar.
Nate realized his mistake at once. Hosts didn’t accept anything they hadn’t seen made. Century commissioned safety wards from the best magic-users in the city, but they were designed to combat hungry werewolves or starved vampires, not mundane threats like drugging.
How can I refuse the drink now? Nate looked up to find the man’s smoky eyes locked on his. Date rape drugs? This man doesn’t need to resort to anything beyond that smile. “Either you just read my mind or you’ve been watching me.”
His companion was as impressed as Nate should have expected. Not at all. “Watching you,” he said, white teeth suddenly bared as his lips drew back. “Or rather”—he sauntered closer—”watching this.”
Nate tensed a moment too late. The man’s hand was cool despite the thin fabric of Nate’s T-shirt, a confident pressure as he followed the curve of Nate’s back to grip his ass beneath his tight jeans and squeeze roughly.
Smile sharp at Nate’s discomfit, the man retrieved his own drink from the bar. “Finish your drink and join me upstairs.” His voice held the expectation of obedience. “All of it. I don’t want to taste your previous client.” Before Nate could react, he turned and strode toward the stairs.
“Easily avoided.” Nate raised the glass to his lips. He hadn’t just brushed his teeth; he’d changed his T-shirt, too. “Go fuck yourself.” If the guy thought the steep price of drinks included other compensation, he would be very disappointed.
People didn’t come to Century for a quick fuck. They came for an experience. A few years of legalization was not enough to remove the stigma of prostitution, but Century took the stigma out for a few classy cocktails, a change of wardrobe, and sent it home at the end of the night with a decent bill.
The result? A club that attracted attention—even in the city infamous for the largest population of supernatural creatures in the world. Its hosts were as much a part of the club’s successful branding as its location—a beautifully refurbished theater in the downtown area—or the music, the envy of many a festival planner. The air of exclusivity created by the steep entry fee extended to the hosts. They were attractive, came with a high price tag, and had full powers of veto. The man’s assumption of Nate’s compliance was an instant no.
And yet…
Now that the shock passed, Nate saw the possibilities. Century attracted those experimenting with something new. Nate was used to gently guiding. Someone so confident they rejected the niceties entirely? Not only rare, but promising.
Promising enough to overlook the guy’s attitude?
The central staircase was crowded with spectators watching the stage. The man parted them without effort. He didn’t gesture. He simply moved with his destination so firmly in mind that everyone else compromised.
Fuck. Confidence like that is as dangerous as it is hot. A sharp clink of ice drew Nate’s attention to the fact that his glass was already half empty.
Half empty? When had that happened?
Nate’s mouth twisted. Even aware of the man’s effect, he was not immune.
Nate threw back the last of the drink and shouldered through the milling crowd. This place is packed. God, how closely had he been watching to see my earlier client? The thought excited. Nate took the staircase—a beautifully restored relic of the building’s theater past—two ornate steps at a time.
Hollis ShilohHollis Shiloh writes love stories about men, also called gay romance or m/m romance, with the preferred genres of contemporary, historical, and fantasy. Hollis's stories tend towards the sweet rather than the spicy. When not writing, the author enjoys reading, retro music, and being around animals.
KA MerikanK.A. Merikan are a team of writers who try not to suck at adulting, with some success. Always eager to explore the murky waters of the weird and wonderful, K.A. Merikan don’t follow fixed formulas and want each of their books to be a surprise for those who choose to hop on for the ride.
K.A. Merikan have a few sweeter M/M romances as well, but they specialize in the dark, dirty, and dangerous side of M/M, full of bikers, bad boys, mafiosi, and scorching hot romance.
Damian Serbu lives in the Chicago area with his husband and two dogs, Akasha and Chewbacca. The dogs control his life, tell him what to write, and threaten to eat him in the middle of the night if he disobeys. He has published The Vampire’s Angel and The Vampire’s Protégé with NineStar Press. Coming later this year from NineStar: The Vampire’s Quest and Santa Is a Vampire. Keep up to date with him on Facebook, Twitter, or at website.
Annabelle Jacobs
Gillian St. Kevern
Gillian St. Kevern is the author of the Deep Magic series, the Thorns and Fangs series, the For the Love of Christmas series, and standalone novels, The Biggest Scoop and The Wing Commander's Curse. Gillian currently lives in her native New Zealand, but spent eleven years in Japan and has visited over twenty different countries.
As a chronic traveller, Gillian is more interested in journeys than endings, with characters that grow and change to achieve their happy ending. She's not afraid to let her characters make mistakes or take the story in an unexpected direction. Her stories cross genres, time-periods and continents, taking readers along for an unforgettable ride. Both Deep Magic and The Biggest Scoop were nominated for Best LOR story in the 2015 M/M Romance Groups Member's Choice awards. Deep Magic also received nominations in Best Cover, Best Main Character and Best Paranormal, while The Biggest Scoop was nominated for Best Coming of Age.
Hollis Shiloh
EMAIL: hollis.shiloh@gmail.com
KA Merikan
EMAIL: kamerikan@gmail.com
Damian Serbu
Annabelle Jacobs
EMAIL: ajacobsfiction@gmail.com
Gillian St. Kevern
Brian's Mate by Hollis Shiloh
The Vampire's Protege by Damian Serbu
The Altered by Annabelle Jacobs
Thorns and Fangs by Gillian St. Kevern
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