Summary:
Psycop #1
Victor Bayne, the psychic half of a PsyCop team, is a gay medium who’s more concerned with flying under the radar than in making waves.
He hooks up with handsome Jacob Marks, a non-psychic (or “Stiff”) from an adjacent precinct at his ex-partner’s retirement party and it seems like his dubious luck has taken a turn for the better. But then a serial killer surfaces who can change his appearance to match any witness’ idea of the world’s hottest guy.
Solving murders is a snap when you can ask the victims whodunit, but this killer’s not leaving any spirits behind.
He hooks up with handsome Jacob Marks, a non-psychic (or “Stiff”) from an adjacent precinct at his ex-partner’s retirement party and it seems like his dubious luck has taken a turn for the better. But then a serial killer surfaces who can change his appearance to match any witness’ idea of the world’s hottest guy.
Solving murders is a snap when you can ask the victims whodunit, but this killer’s not leaving any spirits behind.
A year later and Among the Living is still brilliant! I don't really have anything to add to my original review so I'll just mention the narration. Gomez Pugh really brings Victor and Jacob to life. I really felt like I was watching everything unfold in front of me, from their heat filled first meet to the seriously creepy outcome and everything in between. It's not easy creating characters that believably have a connection that could possibly outlast the drama filled circumstances that bring them together but Jordan Castillo Price not only makes it believable but fun(and yes I know that's an odd word for the creepy mayhem world that exists in Psycop but it truly is a fun gem).
Original ebook Review October 2019:
First off, I have NO IDEA why it took it me so long to read this! Normally when I start an already established series I tend to devour the whole thing immediately but as its October I have others I have to read first but trust me I will be returning to the world of Victor Bayne, Jacob Marks, and the whole PsyCop series because . . . WOW!
Among the Living may be a short novella introduction to the world of PsyCop where psychic and non-psychic(Stiffs as they are often referred to) police work hand-in-hand to solve crimes but don't let the shortness fool you, it is long on character development and world building. I won't go into details but let me tell you, if you love supernatural, crime-busting, romantic bickering, friendly banter, and plenty of lusftul chemistry then this is definitely a series for you(technically I shouldn't speak for the whole series but considering some of the author's works I have also read I'm going out on a limb and saying "series"😉). Frankly, if you only love one of those elements then Among the Living is still for you.
I can't wait to read the rest of the series to see what kind of trouble Victor and Jacob get into and I have a feeling "trouble" might be the perfect word. When an author can mesh together romance, heat, and humor with paranormal, supernatural, and mayhem then I know I found a winning combo of author and storytelling.
RATING:
First off, I have NO IDEA why it took it me so long to read this! Normally when I start an already established series I tend to devour the whole thing immediately but as its October I have others I have to read first but trust me I will be returning to the world of Victor Bayne, Jacob Marks, and the whole PsyCop series because . . . WOW!
Among the Living may be a short novella introduction to the world of PsyCop where psychic and non-psychic(Stiffs as they are often referred to) police work hand-in-hand to solve crimes but don't let the shortness fool you, it is long on character development and world building. I won't go into details but let me tell you, if you love supernatural, crime-busting, romantic bickering, friendly banter, and plenty of lusftul chemistry then this is definitely a series for you(technically I shouldn't speak for the whole series but considering some of the author's works I have also read I'm going out on a limb and saying "series"😉). Frankly, if you only love one of those elements then Among the Living is still for you.
I can't wait to read the rest of the series to see what kind of trouble Victor and Jacob get into and I have a feeling "trouble" might be the perfect word. When an author can mesh together romance, heat, and humor with paranormal, supernatural, and mayhem then I know I found a winning combo of author and storytelling.
RATING:
Summary:
Enchanted Occasions #2
Can a chance meeting rekindle their incendiary attraction?
While cutting through the Interstices—the post-creation gap between realms—Smith, half-demon tech specialist for Enchanted Occasions Event Planning, spies the person he yearns for daily but dreads ever seeing again: the ifrit, Hashim of the Windrider clan.
On their one literally smoldering night together, Smith, stupidly besotted, revealed his true name—a demon’s greatest vulnerability. When Hashim didn’t return the favor, then split the next morning with no word? Message received, loud and clear: Thanks but no thanks.
Although Hashim had burned to return Smith’s trust, it was impossible. The wizard who conjured him holds his true name in secret, and unless Hashim discovers it, he’ll never be free.
When their attraction sparks once more, the two unite to search for Hashim’s hidden name—which would be a hell of a lot easier if they didn’t have to contend with a convention full of food-crazed vampires on the one day out of the century they can consume something other than blood.
But if they fail, Hashim will be doomed to eternal slavery, and their reignited love will collapse in the ashes.
Luckily Smith is the guy who gets the job done—and Hashim is never afraid to heat things up.
Summary:
VRC: Vampire Related Crimes #1
Finn
Getting into the vampire-only detective unit was the easy part; what’s going to be more difficult is dealing with my new partner, an ancient vampire who keeps threatening to eat me. The unit has never had a human in it, and Marcus—or as I like to call him, Fangy McFangface—would really prefer to keep it that way. He’s grumpy, short-tempered, and broody, but I have a way with words and I know he’s starting to like me, even if he swears he’s not. But what he doesn’t know is that I didn’t join the unit because I was tired of being a homicide detective, I joined because there is someone after me. They’ve already taken enough from me and I’m afraid they’re going to take all of me if I don’t find someone to help. That’s all Marcus was supposed to be, but now, he’s so much more and I can’t imagine my life without him.
Marcus
The moment the pesky human walked through that door, I knew I had to get rid of him. He’s charming and almost everyone else instantly loves him, but he doesn’t understand how risky it is being part of this unit as a human. But as I get to know the stubborn man, I learn that perhaps he’s not as naive as I once thought. And maybe he’s what I needed to realize there is more to life than just work and my dog. A group arises who is threatening to disrupt the alliance between the humans and the vampires, but Finn is the one who shows me how strong that alliance can be and reminds me why it’s worth protecting. When threats hit closer to home, I realize I would do anything for Finn because he’s brought so much joy to my life—and because he’s mine.
This 105k word book contains: A creative use for undergarments, unintentional splits, a wolfhound who just wants to be a part of things, a vertically challenged human who still manages to wrap every vampire he meets around his little finger, the best date ever, possessiveness, really awkward dancing, some workplace revenge, and just a bite or two. Or three.
Summary:
The Knight and the Necormancer #1
It’s a classic fairytale: Knight meets necromancer. They argue. They fight. They…make out?
Prince Roland comes home from the war to bury his father and see his sister on the throne. He sneaks out to his favorite tavern for nostalgia’s sake. It’s the place where he kissed a man for the first time, the place where he used to carouse with the lover he buried on a battlefield.
Roland expects to enjoy some anonymity and perhaps flirt with a few strangers for old time’s sake. He does not expect to find a fascinating scholar from out of town—a lonely young man with beautiful eyes and an obvious longing to be touched, buried beneath a prickly demeanor. The man clearly has his secrets, but so does Roland, and their unexpected chemistry makes him feel alive for the first time in months.
Roland exerts all his knightly charm and is rewarded by the promise of a second date. He figures he’ll need something to look forward to tomorrow, since he must spend the day in council with his family’s sworn enemy—a necromancer whom his sister has rashly invited to consult about the war.
Sairis is a necromancer with a price on his head. He knows that he will have to bargain for his life tomorrow. He’s never been this far from his tower. He’s good with magic, not people. He’s frightened, although he doesn’t want to admit it.
Sairis knows he’s doing something foolish by visiting a tavern the evening before his meeting with the royals—a tavern that caters to men of certain tastes. But Sairis wants things. Things a hunted outlaw can never have.
He tells himself that he’ll just watch—see what ordinary people enjoy every day. Sairis is confident in his ability to intimidate anyone who comes too close.
He’s shocked when a dazzling mountain of a man is not intimidated in the slightest. Sairis knows a knight when he sees one. He has killed plenty of knights. But this knight is funny and kind. Sairis finds his defenses melting in spite of his best efforts. Maybe he could go on a second date with this person.
Of course, he’ll have to get through tomorrow first…when he must bargain with the hated royals who have persecuted him all his life.
The Knight and the Necromancer is a trilogy with satisfying HEA at the end of book 3. Steamy scenes, adults only.
Summary:
Royal Alphas #2
An alpha prince ready to find his fated mate. A Selkie who wishes he wasn’t omega-born...
Unlike his brothers, Prince Adrian, the dutiful second-born son to the King of the North, looks forward to finding his true mate and producing an heir. Until he stumbles across a beta guard with an enticing scent.
Del never wanted to be an omega. All his life, he’s only wanted one thing: to serve as a Royal Guard. Though forbidden, he found a concoction to mask his omega scent and was successful until his dwindling supply caused the alpha prince to discover his deception.
Rian not only breaks every cherished royal tradition, but ends up hiding Del until he can figure out the reason for the attraction between them. However, one selfish mistake puts them in a precarious position they can’t escape. Their reckless actions have them worried they’ll be banished from the Selkie community. Rian needs a plan to convince his father to accept his mate before he has to risk everything he’s ever known and loved for their future. Because, no matter what the king says, Rian will not give up Del.
Note: A 60k-plus word m/m shifter mpreg story, this is the second book in the Royal Alpha series. Due to the “knotty” times in this book, it is recommended for mature readers only. It can be read as a standalone and, of course, has an HEA.
Unlike his brothers, Prince Adrian, the dutiful second-born son to the King of the North, looks forward to finding his true mate and producing an heir. Until he stumbles across a beta guard with an enticing scent.
Del never wanted to be an omega. All his life, he’s only wanted one thing: to serve as a Royal Guard. Though forbidden, he found a concoction to mask his omega scent and was successful until his dwindling supply caused the alpha prince to discover his deception.
Rian not only breaks every cherished royal tradition, but ends up hiding Del until he can figure out the reason for the attraction between them. However, one selfish mistake puts them in a precarious position they can’t escape. Their reckless actions have them worried they’ll be banished from the Selkie community. Rian needs a plan to convince his father to accept his mate before he has to risk everything he’s ever known and loved for their future. Because, no matter what the king says, Rian will not give up Del.
Note: A 60k-plus word m/m shifter mpreg story, this is the second book in the Royal Alpha series. Due to the “knotty” times in this book, it is recommended for mature readers only. It can be read as a standalone and, of course, has an HEA.
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Random Paranormal Tales of 2020
Among the Living by Jordan Castillo Price
Once upon a time if you told doctors you heard voices, they’d diagnose you as schizophrenic, put you on heavy drugs, and lock you away in a cozy state institution to keep you from hurting yourself or others.
Nowadays they test you first to see if you’re psychic.
_____
Maurice was a sixty-two year old black man who had a lot more gray in his hair at his retirement party than he’d had when I first met him. We’d never been close in a way that some partners at the Fifth Precinct are. We didn’t hit sports bars after our shift for a shot and a beer. We didn’t watch the game at each others’ houses. We didn’t invite each other to family functions—not that I have any family to speak of.
Maybe it was the race difference. Or the age difference. But despite the fact that we didn’t connect on any sort of deep, soul-searching level, I was gonna miss working with the guy.
I stood behind the kitchen island and watched through the glass doors that led to the deck as Maurice ambled by. He laughed as he tried to balance a Coors Light, a styrofoam tray of bratwurst and a small stack of CDs. He looked genuinely happy. I supposed he was ready to retire—not like those guys you hear about that are forced out, along with all of their years of honed experience, in favor of some young buck who’ll work for half the salary.
Maurice set the CDs in a sloppy, listing pile next to a tinny boom box and drained his beer in one pull. I wondered if being retired would entice him into a long slide down the neck of a bottle, but then I felt a little guilty for even thinking it. Because Maurice never, ever made comments about my Auracel—whether I had taken any, or was out, or was rebounding after a weekend of “accidentally” doubling or tripling my dosage. Nothing.
Maybe that was the actual reason I was gonna miss him so much.
I turned away from the deck and made my way back down the hall, and tried to remember where the bathroom was. I veered accidentally into the rec room and a bunch of black kids, mostly teenagers, all fell silent. I nodded at them and wondered if I’d managed to look friendly or if I just came off as some creepy, white asshole, then headed toward the basement where I remembered there was a half bath off Maurice’s seldom-used woodshop.
“That’s him, Victor Bayne,” one of the kids whispered, so loud that it was audible to my physical ears. Not that my sixth sense would’ve picked it up, given that I was pretty far into a nice Auracel haze, and besides, I wasn’t particularly clairaudient. “He was my dad’s partner on the Spook Squad.”
I quelled the urge to go back into the rec room and tell Maurice’s kid that his dad would probably shit a brick if he heard that expression in his home. But that’d lead to a long-winded discussion of civil rights, yadda yadda yadda. Plus I’d be absolutely certain to come off as a creepy, white asshole then, in case there was any doubt at all.
I groped around the cellar wall at the top of the stairs for several long moments for a light until I realized the lights downstairs were already on. I made a mental note to rib Maurice about the availability of light bulbs greater than 40 watts come Monday. Except Maurice wasn’t gonna be there on Monday. Damn.
My eyes adjusted and I took the cellar steps two by two. I imagined what Maurice’s kid was probably saying about me to his cousins and friends. It was pretty plain that I was the psychic half of the Maurice/Victor team, since Maurice was about as psychic as a brick wall, and damn proud of it.
A pair of opposites forms a Paranormal Investigation Unit. The Psychs—psychic cops—do the psychic stuff, just like you’d expect. And the Stiffs—look, I didn’t name ’em—are oblivious to any psychic interference a sixth-sensory gifted criminal might throw out there. It was rough at first getting used to riding around with a guy who put out about as many vibes as a day-old ham sandwich. But I got used to it, and eventually I grew to see the practicality of pairing us with each other.
Halfway down the steps I reached into my jeans pocket and found a tab of Auracel among the old gum wrappers and lint. I felt around some more, but only managed to locate the one. I’d brought three with me. Had I taken two earlier? I only remembered taking one in the car. Oh, and there was the one I took when Sergeant Warwick came in. The irony. Popping pills within spitting distance of someone capable of cutting off my precious supply.
I swallowed the Auracel, grabbed hold of the bathroom door and barely caught myself from slamming face first into Detective Jacob Marks, the golden child of the Twelfth Precinct Sex Crimes Unit.
He was a big, dark-eyed, dark-haired hunk of a guy with a neatly clipped goatee and short hair that looked like he had it trimmed every single week. He’d always looked beefy to me from afar, standing in the background, tall and proud, as his sergeant praised his work on high profile cases during press releases while the cameras flashed and the video rolled. But up close it was obvious that he was as wide as two of me put together, and it was all solid muscle.
I think I excused myself and staggered back a step or two. The Auracel I’d taken on the stairs was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I swallowed hard, worried that its innocuous gelatin coating would dissolve and give me a big jolt of something bitter and nasty. The Auracel didn’t budge.
“So,” Marks said, deftly swerving his bulging pecs around my shoulder as he maneuvered past me. I stood there gaping and trying not to choke. “Lost your Stiff.”
A comment about the crassness of calling Maurice a Stiff stuck somewhere around the last Auracel, as I realized that Marks not only knew who I was and what I did, but that he seemed to be flirting with me. Detective Marks—queer? Who knew? And besides, he was a Stiff, too.
Or maybe he was just a jerk and the flirting notion was merely something that my mind constructed from the high it’d gleaned from two Auracels and a few fumes.
I shrugged and raised my eyebrow. Nothing like being noncommittal. Especially when I only had access to five senses, and even those were pretty fuzzy around the edges.
Marks leaned back against Maurice’s workbench and crossed his arms over his chest. That pose made him triple my diameter, and his tight black T-shirt was stretched so taut over his biceps that it probably wanted to surrender. “New partner lined up yet?”
I wondered if “partner” was also supposed to be flirtatious, as in “sexual partner.” But even my Auracel-addled mind figured that’d be a pretty far stretch. I had nowhere to lean, so I stuffed my hands in my jeans pockets and hunched a little, as kids who are taller than their classmates tend to do. Marks was as tall as I was. I like that in a man. “It’s all hush-hush,” I said, belatedly thankful that I didn’t make a tongue twister out of those last couple of words. “I think they had like a hundred applicants.”
Marks cocked his head to one side, considering me. The bitterness of Auracel spread over the back of my tongue and I swallowed convulsively—smooth move. “Probably more like a thousand,” Marks said, “but they screen ninety percent of them out before the interviews start.”
A thousand people wanted to be the Stiff half of a Paranormal Investigation Unit—homicide, no less? I imagined I’d be flattered, if I weren’t choking.
I stifled a cough and dry-swallowed three, four more times. My eyelashes felt damp.
And Jacob Marks had pushed off from the workbench and pressed right up against me. “What’s in your mouth?” he said, and his voice was a sexy, low purr. He pulled my face up against his, pried my mouth open with his and skimmed his tongue across the inside of my upper lip. “Auracel? Isn’t that the strongest anti-psyactive they make?”
How would he know what Auracel tastes like? I probably would’ve asked him myself, except I wasn’t quite fit for speaking. Or even breathing, for that matter. I squeezed my hand up between us and managed to push back from Marks before I hurled all over him. The bathroom sink was only a yard away, and I turned both taps on, scooped up tepid water with both hands, and struggled to dislodge the pill from my soft palate.
Finally, the foul thing tore free and made its way down my throat. It felt like it’d left behind a chemical burn on the roof of my mouth and the back of my tongue. I cupped a few more handfuls of water from the tap, drank them, and then splashed one on my face for good measure.
I stared down at the sink as the water dripped from my hairline. Cripes. Jacob Marks kissed me, sorta, and I was too busy choking on a pill to get into it. I assumed I’d just blown a perfectly good shot at some hot, nearly-anonymous sex when I heard Marks’ voice again coming from the doorway. Apparently I hadn’t succeeded in scaring him off. His reflection met my eye in the medicine cabinet mirror.
“One in every five hundred people is certifiably psychic, and they’re all clamoring for something to shut their talent off. What kind of sense does that make?” he asked. There was a friendly lilt to his tone of voice, but the look in his eye made his words feel like more of a challenge.
Well, didn’t he know his facts and figures? I ran my hand up through my half-wet hair. The mirror reflected it back at me. It stood up in a crazy, black thatch. I needed a haircut.
I flipped open the door to see if maybe there was some Listerine in there to wash away the taste of the Auracel, but found nothing but a bottle of Jergen’s lotion and a few yellowed aspirin left over from the Reagan Era.
“You’re a PsyCop.” I turned to face Marks. “Why don’t you ask your partner?”
“Carolyn’s all natural,” he said. And I wondered if they were fucking each other, though I guessed it was really none of my business.
I think his prying would normally have pissed me off. But I’m not normally three Auracel to the wind, so I played along. “Good for Carolyn,” I said. “Do dead people like to talk with Carolyn? All day, all night? Describe how they died? In excruciating detail?”
“Carolyn can tell if people are lying.”
“A human polygraph,” I said, and I supposed it was clever. You didn’t need someone’s consent to use your psychic ability, not if you had a federal license. But you did need a court order to hook someone up to a lie detector. “No wonder you collar so many perverts.”
Marks broke into a smile that was almost more of a leer, and I realized he was probably a lot more fun than I’d ever imagined he’d be. “It helps,” he said. “But Carolyn’s only a level two, and criminals can be incredibly evasive.” He pushed the bathroom door shut with his foot and locked it behind us. The tiny doorknob twist lock seemed pathetically inadequate, considering that any cop upstairs could kick the door in without even breaking a sweat, but maybe the sanctity of the bathroom would protect us from discovery.
Marks eased up to me and then stopped, that infuriating—yet sexy—grin plastered on his face, framed by his impossibly neat goatee. I wondered what he wanted. More witty repartee? The third Auracel was kicking in and I hardly had two brain cells to rub together, so I closed the distance between us, slipped my arms around his neck and initiated a kiss of my own.
His tongue tasted beery, but pleasantly so, like he’d just had a drink or two at the party. I wished I could drink, but while alcohol loosens me up just like anyone else, it also amps up the voices. I don’t drink.
He got a hand around my waist and slipped the other around the back of my jeans, kneading my ass hard, showing me his strength. I grazed his lower lip with my teeth and he grunted a little into my mouth, ground his fly against mine.
Marks backed me into the towel rack, which settled right beneath my shoulder blades, and started kissing me hard, rubbing up against me while his sweet tongue swept over my bitter one.
I was the one to fumble with buttons and zippers, to expose our stiff cocks to the ambient light of my ex-partner’s bathroom. Marks seemed pleased enough to let our experience take him where it would and to have me call the shots. But then again, Marks could probably pick people up whenever he was horny. I had to jump on any chance that presented itself to me and hope I was on Auracel—or at least able to get my hands on some. I really hate threesomes when one of the participants is dead.
Marks had a thick, fat cock, rock hard and ruddy. Mine had a certain delicacy and grace beside his as he took them both in his hands and pumped them, hard, even strokes, while I cupped his jaw between my palms and languidly tongued his mouth.
He knows, I thought, and though his grip was harder than I might have liked, my body still responded to it, thighs clenching and warmth building at the base of my spine. He knows who I am. And he knows what I do. And he’s willing to jack me off anyway.
I trailed my fingertips over his scalp, through his closely-shorn hair, and he groaned into my mouth, his hands moving faster on us. My breath hissed in and I caressed the tips of his ears and the curve of his jaw with a feathery touch. I sucked on his tongue.
He pulled back to watch himself as he came, his jiz rolling down over his knuckles as he clenched his cock hard, and I suddenly liked his face a whole lot better. Open like that, and vulnerable. Not the handsome, self-assured detective who always got his man, but just a guy jacking off with me. His mouth was so pretty—a little swollen now, from kissing me. I imagined it closing around the head of my cock, taking me into its soft, wet warmth, and then my hips gave a twitch and I was coming. It was a pretty energetic spurt, given the amount of drugs in my system, and the first rope of come managed to paint itself down the front of Marks’ T-shirt and across the leg of his black jeans.
I sniggered a little as I shot again, more weakly though, just over his bare forearm, and again. Marks stared at me, our sticky cocks loose in his grip, and then he broke into a big grin, too. My vision was going all starry around the edges and I was glad of the towel rack behind me, and the big cop in front of me. I still had my arms draped over his shoulders, and couldn’t think of any good reason to let go.
Someone banged on the door. “Bayne? You in there?”
I pressed my forehead into Marks’ shoulder and exhaled carefully. I could’ve ignored it, if it was anyone else but Sergeant Warwick. But that voice, in that tone, would need to be answered. “Yeah, Sarge.”
Marks gave my cock a slow, teasing stroke. It gave up a final bead of semen.
“I need you at the station. Now.”
On a Sunday? When we were all at a party, some of us drunk, some of us pill-buffered, and some of us getting lucky? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be pretty. “Okay,” I said. I considered dropping something into the toilet to make it sound like I was taking a big dump, but then I’d either have to fish the object back out or leave it in there to screw up Maurice’s plumbing. Instead, I tugged at the toilet paper roll and tried to make it rattle. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
We both listened to Warwick’s footsteps as he headed back upstairs. Marks’ face had shifted back into cop-mode, his shrewd, dark eyes scanning the empty air in front of him as he analyzed whatever theories he was assembling inside his head. “Something big just went down.” He pulled a yard of toilet paper from the roll and wiped my jiz off his leg.
The Selkie Prince and His Omega Guard by JJ Masters
Prince Adrian, the second born alpha son to the King of the North, frowned. As he stood near the throne where his father sat with his four brothers flanking him, his gaze bounced off the six omegas that had their foreheads pinned to the stone floor and their naked asses presented in the air.
He sighed quietly in disappointment. Not one of these omegas was his fated mate. The Selkie Seekers had gathered these males from good families all over the world, but none of the half dozen presented today belonged to him.
Rian—as his brothers liked to call him—glanced over at Luca who stood with his pup, Dylan, at the back of the Great Hall, bouncing the baby in his arms to keep him from fussing. He reminded himself that it had taken his oldest brother, Kai, several presentation ceremonies until he found his fated mate.
This was only Rian’s first. But still...
Unlike Kai, Rian had always preferred the Selkie traditions and he looked forward to finding his true mate and producing an heir. He was tired of rutting with the betas they had at their disposal. And to even think about rutting with a human...
He wrinkled his nose. His brothers may very well enjoy the sexual release the human males brought, but Rian refused to join them. He was a Selkie prince. He would rut only with another Selkie.
He found humans to be boring and figured none of them would be able to take his size anyway. As his brothers liked to point out time and time again, Rian was big. Most alphas were, but his was... extraordinary. As his younger brother Zale liked to call it... a dinosaur bone.
Not even all the betas could accommodate him. He knew which ones could and tended to use them for relief when needed.
He wrinkled his nose again, but this time it was for another reason. A sweet scent pulled at him. And it wasn’t coming from any of the omegas kneeling on the ground before him.
His eyes flicked back to Luca. Then he twisted his head and glanced over his shoulder at Kai. “Is Luca due to come into oestrus soon?”
Kai’s blue eyes narrowed as his gaze shot to his omega mate then back to Rian. “No.”
Rian inhaled deeply trying to pinpoint what the smell was and where it was coming from. “Do you smell that?”
Before any of his brothers could answer him, this father, the king, loudly pounded the end of his scepter onto the floor at his feet.
“Douglass! If Prince Adrian cannot identify any of these omegas as his fated mate, then let’s get this wrapped up.”
His father’s asshole assistant fluttered down the steps from where he’d been standing behind the king, and approached Rian.
Rian frowned at the weasel-faced beta servant. “What?”
“Has none of them caught your fancy, Your Highness?”
Rian let his gaze wander over the six naked males all bent over in a line. “None of these are my omega, Douglass. You may dismiss them all.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but it was a struggle.
With a nod of his head and what curiously looked like a satisfied expression, Douglass clapped his hands, had the omegas rise to their feet, and herded them out of the Great Hall.
Rian couldn’t help but take one last look at the naked males. All were from acceptable families, all very handsome and some were even hung very well for an omega, but even if he was sexually interested in any of them, he was forbidden to rut with them.
Doing so could throw an omega into heat and with heat came pregnancy and then Rian would be stuck with an omega who was not his intended fated mate.
All for a quick dalliance.
Rutting for pleasure with an omega would also ruin the omega’s reputation. Omegas didn’t have to come to their mate with their corona membrane intact, but no matter what, they couldn’t rut with an alpha unless it was their mate. To do so was illegal and could mean imprisonment. Or worse, banishment.
He sighed quietly in disappointment. Not one of these omegas was his fated mate. The Selkie Seekers had gathered these males from good families all over the world, but none of the half dozen presented today belonged to him.
Rian—as his brothers liked to call him—glanced over at Luca who stood with his pup, Dylan, at the back of the Great Hall, bouncing the baby in his arms to keep him from fussing. He reminded himself that it had taken his oldest brother, Kai, several presentation ceremonies until he found his fated mate.
This was only Rian’s first. But still...
Unlike Kai, Rian had always preferred the Selkie traditions and he looked forward to finding his true mate and producing an heir. He was tired of rutting with the betas they had at their disposal. And to even think about rutting with a human...
He wrinkled his nose. His brothers may very well enjoy the sexual release the human males brought, but Rian refused to join them. He was a Selkie prince. He would rut only with another Selkie.
Not even all the betas could accommodate him. He knew which ones could and tended to use them for relief when needed.
He wrinkled his nose again, but this time it was for another reason. A sweet scent pulled at him. And it wasn’t coming from any of the omegas kneeling on the ground before him.
His eyes flicked back to Luca. Then he twisted his head and glanced over his shoulder at Kai. “Is Luca due to come into oestrus soon?”
Kai’s blue eyes narrowed as his gaze shot to his omega mate then back to Rian. “No.”
Rian inhaled deeply trying to pinpoint what the smell was and where it was coming from. “Do you smell that?”
Before any of his brothers could answer him, this father, the king, loudly pounded the end of his scepter onto the floor at his feet.
“Douglass! If Prince Adrian cannot identify any of these omegas as his fated mate, then let’s get this wrapped up.”
His father’s asshole assistant fluttered down the steps from where he’d been standing behind the king, and approached Rian.
Rian frowned at the weasel-faced beta servant. “What?”
“Has none of them caught your fancy, Your Highness?”
Rian let his gaze wander over the six naked males all bent over in a line. “None of these are my omega, Douglass. You may dismiss them all.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but it was a struggle.
With a nod of his head and what curiously looked like a satisfied expression, Douglass clapped his hands, had the omegas rise to their feet, and herded them out of the Great Hall.
Doing so could throw an omega into heat and with heat came pregnancy and then Rian would be stuck with an omega who was not his intended fated mate.
All for a quick dalliance.
Rutting for pleasure with an omega would also ruin the omega’s reputation. Omegas didn’t have to come to their mate with their corona membrane intact, but no matter what, they couldn’t rut with an alpha unless it was their mate. To do so was illegal and could mean imprisonment. Or worse, banishment.
Author and artist Jordan Castillo Price is the owner of JCP Books LLC. Her paranormal thrillers are colored by her time in the midwest, from inner city Chicago, to small town Wisconsin, to liberal Madison.
Jordan is best known as the author of the PsyCop series, an unfolding tale of paranormal mystery and suspense starring Victor Bayne, a gay medium who's plagued by ghostly visitations. Also check out her new series, Mnevermind, where memories are made...one client at a time.
With her education in fine arts and practical experience as a graphic designer, Jordan set out to create high quality ebooks with lavish cover art, quality editing and gripping content. The result is JCP Books, offering stories you'll want to read again and again.
EJ RussellMulti-Rainbow Award winner E.J. Russell—grace, mother of three, recovering actor—holds a BA and an MFA in theater, so naturally she’s spent the last three decades as a financial manager, database designer, and business intelligence consultant (as one does). She’s recently abandoned data wrangling, however, and spends her days wrestling words.
E.J. is married to Curmudgeonly Husband, a man who cares even less about sports than she does. Luckily, CH loves to cook, or all three of their children (Lovely Daughter and Darling Sons A and B) would have survived on nothing but Cheerios, beef jerky, and satsuma mandarins (the extent of E.J.’s culinary skill set).
E.J. lives in rural Oregon, enjoys visits from her wonderful adult children, and indulges in good books, red wine, and the occasional hyperbole.
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
A.H. Lee writes fantasy under several names. These are her steamier books.
Also writes under the pen name Abigail Hilton
J.J. Masters is the alter-ego of a USA Today bestselling author who writes hot, gay romance filled with heart, humor and heat. J.J. became fascinated with mpreg romance as soon as she figured out what mpreg stood for. She loves to write about "knotty" men!
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Jordan Castillo Price
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / KOBO
SMASHWORDS / LIVEJOURNAL / B&N
EMAILS: jordan@psycop.com
jcp.heat@gmail.com
Gomez Pugh(Narrator)
EJ Russell
Alice Winters
EMAIL: alicewintersauthor@gmail.com
AH Lee
JJ Masters
Among the Living by Jordan Castillo Price
Devouring the Flame by EJ Russell
How to Vex a Vampire by Alice Winters
The Capital by AH Lee
The Selkie Prince and His Omega Guard by JJ Masters
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