The Blood Boss by Davidson King
Summary:Black Veil #1
Vampires, mermaids, and witches…oh, my! Black Veil is full of them all, but at the end of the day, it’s The Blood Boss who has the last word. Ever since The Final War, Vampires rule Black Veil, and with The Blood Boss in charge, peace reigns.
Keeping the vampires under control is a task Cain takes seriously. Humans have accepted his rule, and anyone who seeks to destroy his territory is given swift punishment. His promise to keep Black Veil safe comes with great sacrifice and selflessness; never does he dare hope for more in life. Until one day, a man walks through his front door and changes everything.
Jayce has a happy life. His adopted parents love him, he wants for very little, and he lives every day to the fullest. But when a normal evening turns into a nightmare, and Jayce is forced to come face-to-face with The Blood Boss, the world as he knows it feels like a lie.
Then a great secret is revealed, and nothing is what it seems. Cain and Jayce must work together to stop the forces uniting against the vampires. Life and love are in jeopardy as they fight those who seek to destroy them. Can Cain and Jayce keep Black Veil from crumbling into the sea when every attempt to do so seems impossible?
Last summer when I first read The Blood Boss it really helped boost be up as my mother was 3 months into what would be 108 days in the hospital and I was in a hotel across the street the whole time. I can still remember sitting in the hospital cafeteria being completely blown away by Davidson King's newest series. As timing went I needed a similar morale boost the last 10 days, my mother is home but was completely wore down as she dealt with an infection, I knew this was the audio I needed.
I wasn't wrong.
I knew what was coming so the adrenaline rush one gets for a first time read may not have been as high but I was still completely hooked. The combination of King's words and the dual narration of Tim Paige and Declan Winters that brought said words to life made everything pop. More than once, I looked up expecting the visuals in my head to be playing on the television.
This is the first time I've listened to a book by either narrator, which just like a new-to-me author can be iffy going in but Davidson King has once again chosen wisely. Everything was just spot on and left me even hungrier for the next Black Veil journey.
Original Review August Book of the Month 2021:
RATING:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!!! Once again Davidson King has proven that the Force is strong within her because . . . WOW! The talent for storytelling that runs through her veins is so strong, if it really was the force she could singlehandedly blow up the Death Star. Her gift of words is so powerful you can't help but get sucked in once you start.
I won't say she had "fears" about venturing into the paranormal genre but I'm sure there were inner hesitancies but she needn't have worried because the world King has created in her new series, Black Veil, really is the complete package. The Blood Boss, or as those closest to him call him, Cain may be a vampire of few words but you know he's the boss by his presence. "Presence" may seem like an odd word to use in literature since you aren't seeing the character on a screen or stage but the world building that Davidson King has created is so vivid and descriptive, I felt like I was witnessing it right outside my window. You really lose yourself in the book and become part of the environment that is Black Veil and the desire to discover all it's little nooks and crannies, rumors and truths, and how the lines of good and evil can sometimes blur.
As for the main characters, Cain and Jayce? Well, I mentioned the power Cain gives off but he also has heart(and yes I realize that's an odd thing to say about a vampire but its no less true), he cares for others more than he wants the world to know. We meet Jayce as he steps in to receive punishment for a debt his father hasn't been able to pay back and he doesn't do this on a whim, this is the kind of man he is. Put these two together and you have a recipe for what could be complete and utter chaos or the grand champion winning pie at the fair that you want to eat even though its been sitting on the judging table for days. Which is it? Trick question really, on one hand I won't give particulars to spoil anything but truth be told Cain and Jayce are a little bit of both, chaos and champion.
Cain and Jayce and the supporting cast of characters who I'm sure we'll get to see more of in future installments makes The Blood Boss an absolutely delicious read sure to satisfy any and all your fiction hungers.
RATING:
Summary:
Holiday Surprise #1
Scott wants it all; an alpha and a family of his own. But for now he's content to be the cool uncle.
It's hard to be patient sometimes, but Scott knows that his perfect alpha is out there somewhere. In the meantime he's taking care of his niece, and decides to take her to the nearest pumpkin patch for a day of fall fun. But when she gets lost in the corn maze he panics.
Dom's ready for a new start, he just needs to get his business off the ground.
Dom just moved back to Valle Granja in order to start his own business as a large animal vet. Unfortunately there's not much for him to do while waiting for his license and other important paperwork to be processed. So in the meanwhile he's helping out his uncle on the family's pumpkin patch. But he doesn't expect to help a gorgeous omega in crisis mode.
Neither man expected to find the other that way, but when it's right, it's right.
Pumpkin Patch Cutie is a 14.5K word , non-shifter, M/M, Mpreg romance
Summary:
A fae who betrayed his prince for a doomed passion.
Syren sacrificed the man he loved to spare humanity from the wrath of the fae. For three hundred years, he’s been stuck on the mortal plane, floating alone in his pool while his powers slipped away. The last fae in the realm, his only companion is a mysterious bird until Audric, King of Aranthe, comes to claim his sword—the instrument that caused the rift between Faerie and the human realm.
A bastard who should never have inherited the throne.
After centuries of peace, Faerie destroys the royal family of Aranthe in a single brutal strike, leaving only one behind—Audric, the king’s bastard son, who’s always been more warrior than noble. As the magic holding the fae out of Aranthe cracks, Audric strikes out on a quest to retrieve a weapon that can save humanity from the fae.
A desperate fight to thwart the bloodthirsty fae prince who wants to break them both.
Forced together by the magic of the sword Audric needs but Syren cannot surrender, their bond is the only thing that can stop Faerie from breaking through into Aranthe and razing the kingdom to the ground.
Find within the pages of this high fantasy MM romance: one snarky fae who’s got a marshmallow-soft center hidden behind his prickly attitude and pretty face, an overgrown knight turned king with a heart of gold (and buns of steel), and the cleverest bird you ever did see! Enjoy snark for days as these tall-and-taller lads share only one bed, fight back against the forces of evil, and find the cure for three centuries of touch-starvation. And seriously, check the trigger warnings on the copyright page if you’re sensitive to violence and trauma (or the healing power of consensual, ah, cuddling). Beware the splash zone in the Pool of Dreams.
Summary:
My Ghost Roommate #1
Is "straight ghost bromance" a thing ...?
I'm completely infatuated with Byron, the gorgeous, tight-shirted barista at the coffee shop on the corner.
But he doesn't even know my name. That's probably because I can't seem to form a sentence in front of him without stammering like a total loser.
I obviously need help.
I just didn't expect that help to come in the form of an obnoxious straight ghost who haunts my apartment.
He is the absolute worst roommate I never asked for. He's cocky, self-assured, and the lessons in confidence he wants to give me are questionable.
But if I have any hope of scoring a date this Halloween with Byron, I'm going to need my ghost roommate's help.
I'm ready to do whatever it takes to get the guy.
"My Ghost Roommate (Who Helps Me Get The Guy)" is a hot and hilarious Halloween male/male novella from the author of MAKING THE NAUGHTY LIST and HARD FOR MY BOSS. Expect steamy romantic suspense, screamingly funny and over-the-top situations, and a happy ending that's all treats and... maybe a few tricks. (This book does not end in a cliffhanger.)
The sequel "My Pumpkin Prince (And The Ghost Between Us)" is now available!
From Lambda Literary Award winning author Felice Stevens comes a sexy paranormal stand-alone romance.
A vampire who’s lost everything meets a man who has nothing to lose.
For centuries, Massimo D’Alba, banished prince of the Fold, has wandered through life frozen in darkness and pain. Betrayed by his younger, power-hungry brother, he’s existed for centuries but not lived. A rain-soaked night brings smart-mouthed New Yorker, Damion Avery, to his doorstep and suddenly he’s riding spin bikes, shopping for yoga pants, eating ice cream…and falling in love.
Damion Avery can’t figure out why Prince Tall, Dark, and Incredibly Sexy wants him as his personal assistant, but he’s not going to second-guess his good luck. Even though he has to work all night and sleep during the day, the job is too good to be true. But where does Massimo sneak off to in the dead of night? Is he a spy, an assassin, or something else? And what’s with those glowing purple eyes? Damion knows he shouldn’t fall for his boss. But Damion was never one to follow the rules.
When duty calls him home, Massimo must return to save his kingdom, forcing a life-changing decision: leave Damion behind forever, or reveal his deepest, darkest secret to the man who has become his everything, who owns a part of Massimo he’d thought gone forever…his heart.
The Blood Boss by Davidson King
Chapter One
Jayce
“Good night, Jayce.” Sibell, the old lady who owned the bookstore where I worked, squeezed my shoulder when she passed.
“Stay safe, Sibell, I’ll see you Monday morning.”
She smiled softly, her dark eyes twinkling as if they held a million secrets. Nodding quickly, she shut the front door.
I had worked here from the time I was eighteen and loved it. Now that I was twenty-three, Sibell was able to hand over a great many important tasks to me, such as counting the drawers, locking up, and ordering inventory. She’d told me the day she promoted me that she was grateful to finally have someone she trusted to watch over the store when she couldn’t. I took the responsibility seriously and was equally as grateful.
After I flipped the sign on the door to closed and locked the cash drawers in the safe, I did a sweep of the rows to be sure they were all tidy and nothing was out of place before leaving and locking the door.
“Late night?” the baker across the way, Burt, shouted as he shut down his own place.
“Fridays always are. Have a good night, Burt.”
He waved and got into his truck. I didn’t drive; the desire to learn how never intrigued me. If it rained I took the bus, but on clear days like today, I used my legs to get me home. I always traveled along the sidewalk that paralleled the ocean. In the morning, the sunrise would be my cup of coffee, and in the evening, when the moon made the sea glitter, it was a nightcap of delicious Chardonnay.
I was raised in foster care, though I didn’t have horrible and traumatizing memories like many in the system do. I was one of the lucky ones. My foster parents loved me from the second they found me on their doorstep at only a few days old, and I’d always felt like I was their son. At the age of five, I went from a foster kid to an adopted one, and Michael and Anne Harlow became my legal parents, and Black Veil City my home.
While not perfect and constantly humming with magic in the air, I wouldn’t live anywhere else. I heard the chimes from the church bells, indicating it was nine in the evening, and I hurried my steps. See, I loved this city, but when the sun was fully tucked away, it was safer to be home.
As I passed the police station, one of the officers stopped me.
“You shouldn’t be walking around at night, son. Do you need a ride?”
“No thanks, I’m just around this corner.”
“Okay, be safe.” I could feel the officer’s eyes on me until I turned down my street; everyone was vigilant at night.
I wasn’t born when it happened, but as the story goes, the world was falling apart, and humanity was responsible for it. In school, I was taught that due to humans killing the planet and each other, a balance no one knew existed had been upset.
The textbooks referred to it as The Final War because there hadn’t been one since. Mom would tell the story so dramatically, it was almost humorous. The first time I’d heard it, I was ten:
“From the Earth’s core the demons climbed, and from the stars the angels fell. The sea came alive, and the waves brought magical creatures ashore. The trees trembled with life as winged magicians swept through the forest. Humanity was not destroyed in this war; it was set to order.”
That was how she always started the story. Vampires, fairies, angels—all of them had come to Earth’s aid and saved it. When the dust settled, a new hierarchy was created and humans were not at the top. I was okay with that because, first of all, I’d known no differently, and also I’d learned that the oceans became cleaner, the air was safer, and there was zero pollution. But the fact that humans weren’t number one meant something else was, and here in Black Veil City, that was vampires. Namely, The Blood Boss.
I had never met him—hell, he didn’t show his face anywhere that I’d ever seen, and I knew very little about him. But he controlled all vampires, and while the streets weren’t running red with blood at night, it was the time they tended to roam, and crime was rare but it did happen.
I could see the porch light shining at the house and was just about to climb the steps when I realized there was a sleek black Cadillac in the driveway that didn’t belong to anyone I knew. Who could be here at this hour?
Something crashed inside and I rushed through the door, worried Mom, Dad, or the foster kids inside were in trouble.
“Jayce!” Mom shouted from the couch. Her hands were on her lap, and tears streaked down her cheeks. Dad was on the ground, his nose bleeding. But what had me frozen in place were the two hulking vampires in the living room. One stood beside Mom, and the other hovered over Dad.
“What’s going on here?” There were laws in place that vampires couldn’t enter someone’s home and dominate them for anything unless they had proper documentation from The Blood Boss.
“Who are you?” The one who was beside Mom narrowed his eyes.
“I’m Jayce Harlow, and I live here. Who are you?”
“Jayce, don’t…” A sharp look from the vampire above my dad shut him up.
“I’m Emil, this is Petru, and we’re here under orders from The Blood Boss.” Emil was the one guarding my mother, and he slipped a piece of paper from the pocket of his expensive suit.
He walked over to me, and I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. He had to be over six five or something. His blond hair was styled in a short cut, his eyes an eerie shade of blue—a cross between white and baby blue. I’d noticed all vampires had odd-colored eyes; it was one way of identifying them.
“Take a gander.” He held the paper out to me, and I took it, reading every word carefully, hoping I’d find a reason to tell them they had no right to be here. But there was none and…
“You borrowed money from The Blood Boss, Dad?”
Petru stepped back when my father tried to stand, but he stayed close.
“I had to, Jayce, I had no other choice.”
I read the line that scared me the most. “Failure to pay the agreed-upon amount will result in your punishment being ruled on in front of The Blood Boss and a fair judgment dealt.” I looked up, and tendrils of fear licked at my skin. “Dad, this is serious! It says you borrowed over fifty-thousand dollars.”
“I know and—”
“Do you even have it?” I knew he didn’t; money was tight even with what we were given from the government to care for the foster kids. I’d told my parents not to take any more kids in, that we couldn’t afford it, but they hated turning away a child in need.
“No.” His voice was a whisper, and he flinched when Petru grunted.
“Emil, is it?” The vampire nodded. “Can I ask what punishment my father will get?”
He shrugged. “I’m not The Blood Boss; you’d have to ask him, but the reason there is order in Black Veil is because no one gets to slide by without repercussions for their actions.”
“But from your experience, what would you say he’d get for it?”
Emil spared a glance at Petru before answering. “The reason Michael Harlow borrowed money had to do with the fact that the bank was about to foreclose on his house. It’s a noble reason. My guess is he’d likely make him work it off.”
The bank was going to foreclose on the house? Why didn’t anyone tell me?
“He already works two jobs. If you take him away, the bank will surely take the house. Isn’t there another way?”
Emil shook his head. “Anne Harlow could take his place as payment.”
My mom was a schoolteacher during the week, and on the weekends she worked at the community center to help children who were struggling in school. She couldn’t be away either.
“If you take Mom or Dad, they will be even deeper in debt with the bank, the foster kids will have to leave, and I don’t have a lot of hope for them in the system, and they’d lose their other jobs. Please, is there any other way?”
Emil looked over at my mom, then at my dad. When he met Petru’s gaze, it was as if they were having some sort of telepathic conversation, and maybe they were; I didn’t know a lot about vampires’ abilities.
“Are you their son?” Emil turned toward me again.
“No!” My dad made to run over to me, but Petru stopped him easily.
“I am, why?”
“It’s not typical, and I’ve never seen it done, but you could go in your father’s place.”
“Jayce, please.” My mom was sobbing, and I heard the pitter-patter of footsteps above me. No doubt the kids were listening and frightened. Michael and Anne were amazing foster parents. If it weren’t for them, I’d likely be in a shit situation, and if they left here now it would be a disaster.
I, on the other hand, only worked at the bookstore and while Sibell needed my help, she wasn’t completely lost without me. Mom and Dad would take a little hit financially, seeing as my paycheck went to help out around here. It was the sole reason I stilled lived at home. However, without me here it would also be one less mouth to feed, so things might balance themselves out.
“I’ll do it.”
My mom cried harder, and my dad tried to break free of Petru’s grasp. They loved me and didn’t want to see me handed to The Blood Boss, especially for something I had no control over.
Emil held a small square device in his hand. “I need your finger.”
Reflexively I clenched my fists. “It will be hard to work off my father’s debt if I’m down one finger.”
Emil and Petru chuckled. “You can keep your fingers, just slide one in here.” The square device opened and there was a tiny needle sticking up inside. “I need a drop of your blood.”
I glanced over at my parents, Mom’s cries were softer, but my father looked as if he were about to come apart.
Slowly, I stuck my finger inside the device, feeling the brush of the needle. Emil gave me no time to react; he shut it and I felt the quick, piercing pain.
“Repeat after me,” Emil said. “I, Jayce Harlow, agree to take punishment for Michael Harlow’s debt to The Blood Boss for the allotted time agreed upon by him.”
I repeated what he said, and he went on.
“This is a blood oath you are making at your own free will and without coercion?”
“Yes.”
“I hereby stand witness to this pact and agree to the substitution of Jayce Harlow in place of Michael Harlow.”
Emil released my finger and I immediately stuck it in my mouth, earning a chuckle from both vampires.
“I bet you’re delicious.” Emil winked but quickly walked to my dad.
“I don’t allow you to take my son!”
“Michael Harlow, you are hereby excused of your obligation to The Blood Boss—”
“No! I refuse.” He tried and failed to break away from Petru as he raged and cried.
“Dad, please. Let me do this. Conner, Lisa, the twins, they need you and Mom here.”
“What if he hurts you?” My mom spoke through her sobs.
“A debt is not punishable by death or physical harm,” Emil answered, his voice laced with boredom. “Petru, I will get Jayce to the car, and then you may release Michael and join us.”
“Can I say good-bye?”
Emil’s expression hardened. “I’ve been as kind as I’m going to be, Jayce. Let’s go.”
Even if I wanted to, I wasn’t going to argue. I followed Emil out of the house, hearing my mother’s loud cries all the way to the car.
Pumpkin Batch Cutie by Lacey Daize
Chapter 1 - Scott
“Come on!” squealed my niece, Madison. “Hurry up!”
“The pumpkin patch isn’t going anywhere Maddie,” I laughed. “No need to rush.”
“But it’s right there!” she protested, rushing back and grabbing my hand. She tried to tug me faster, little puffs of dust flying up behind her feet in the dirt parking lot while the sunlight glinted off her golden hair.
“It’s not a race,” I replied. “We’re going to go through the corn maze. Then we’re gonna get some photos, play games, and pick out your pumpkin.”
She let go, moved in front of me, put her little fists on her hips, and gave me a sassy glare. “I know that! Papa and dad brought me last year!”
“So you’ve done it before,” I teased. “I guess we don’t need to do everything today. Let’s just go grab a pumpkin and leave.”
“Scott!”
“That’s uncle Scott to you, young lady.”
She stuck her tongue out and grabbed my hand again. “Come on!”
I grinned as she pulled me towards the line of people waiting to pay. She already had a huge personality, and she was only seven. I couldn’t wait to see what kind of woman she grew into.
She was also going to make an excellent big sister, but she didn’t know that yet. I had her for the weekend so that my brother Tyler and his omega Lee could try for another while Lee was in heat.
Part of me was jealous. Tyler was two years younger than me, had found his fated mate in college, and already had his family started. Meanwhile I was knocking at thirty’s door, never had a relationship last longer than six months, and hadn’t been on a date at all in almost a year.
I shook my head, trying to clear the errant thoughts. I wanted it all: a family, and an alpha. It was just taking me a bit more time to find it was all. I had to trust that the wait would be worth it.
Madison bounced on the balls of her feet as we stood in line to pay.
“Do you want a princess makeover?” I asked, glancing at the add-ons.
She shook her head. “No. I’m not a princess.” Then she gave me a fierce look. “I’m a dragon-slayer!”
I laughed. “Fair enough. We’ll get you the dragon slayer package.”
“Yay!” she declared, dancing a bit in place.
A few minutes later we reached the front of the line, and I was face-to-face with an absolutely delicious-looking alpha. He had the rugged charm of a farmer—complete with cowboy hat—and an easy smile that made my insides squishy and my omega bits threaten to start slicking me up.
Somehow it was a reminder of just how long it had been since I’d last been with a man, and… oh… if ever I needed a knot, it was then. I wanted to grab handfuls of his brown hair and gaze into his blue eyes as he plowed into me.
His smile widened, and I realized that I’d been daydreaming about him fucking me senseless instead of paying attention.
“Say again?” I asked.
He chuckled. “How many?”
I forced an awkward smile. “Oh. One adult, one child. We’ll also add a dragon-slayer package and a five-pose photo shoot.” I paused. “Do I pay for pumpkins here?”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “You’ll pay for pumpkins over where you pick them out so they can weigh them.”
“Oh, ok.”
“So I’ve got one adult, one child, dragon-slayer and five photo poses. Right?”
I nodded, trying to control my reaction as I felt a bit of slick escape. I just had to hope that my cock stayed soft. It wouldn’t look good for me to be wandering a corn maze filled with kids while sporting a stiffy.
“That’ll be sixty dollars.”
I pulled out my wallet and handed over the money.
The alpha turned to Madison. “Hold out your hand so I can put your wristband on sweetheart.”
“Ok!” she replied, placing her hand on the table.
He deftly put the band on her, then wrapped one around my wrist as well. “A few attractions might have additional fees, but you’ll pay for those there.” He then pointed. “Head to that booth and they’ll get her dragon-slayer gear on, plus give her the mission.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, tongue-tied around the handsome alpha.
He gave me another easy grin. “Ya’ll have fun.”
“Yay!” Madison declared, rushing off.
I laughed, nodded and followed her to the booth. There she was given a foam sword and had a burlap costume draped over her clothes. Then a very solemn actor told her that a blue dragon had stolen all the kingdom’s gold and taken refuge in the maze. She was to follow the tracks, find the dragon, and bring back one of the lumps of gold to help restore the kingdom.
Madison put on a serious expression and vowed to bring back some gold, then gleefully ran to the maze entrance.
“Come on!” she called, hopping from one foot to the other as she waited for me.
I shared a glance with the booth attendant, who was trying not to laugh, then headed after her.
“Now stay close Maddie,” I said as she ducked through the entrance. “The corn is tall and I don’t want you to get lost.”
“I thought we were supposed to get lost, because it’s a maze,” she replied, looking around for dragon tracks.
“We’re supposed to get lost together.”
“Oh.”
We reached the first intersection, and debated on which way to go, until I saw a splash of blue at the top of some stalks.
“Aren’t the dragon tracks supposed to be blue?” I asked, pointing to the paint.
“Thanks uncle Scott!” she squealed, sprinting towards the painted corn.
I followed as she reached the end of the aisle and waited for me. “Keep close Maddie,” I reminded her. “If you keep rushing off I’ll make you hold my hand.”
She pouted. “But you’re slow.”
I laughed. “We have plenty of time.”
She huffed and crossed her arms until I reached her.
“Did you find any other dragon tracks?” I asked.
“That way,” she replied, pointing to a blue footprint.
“Let’s go find that dragon then,” I said, smiling as she stayed beside me.
We made our way through the maze, following the clues until we found the prop ‘dragon’ sleeping near a hoard of gold spray-painted rocks.
“Grab your piece of gold Maddie,” I said. “Then we’ll find the way out so you can claim your prize for completing your mission.”
She crept up on the dragon and grabbed a piece of gold, then bolted back to my side. She beamed up at me and showed off her prize.
“Good job!” I praised. “Very brave.”
She did a little dance, then sprinted off in the direction of the aisle opposite the one that had led us there.
“What did I say about running ahead?” I asked.
“But we’re almost done!” she protested.
“We’re not out of the maze yet though.”
“I’m gonna find the way out!” she declared, then ran down the next aisle out of sight.
“Madison Evers,” I scolded. “Get back here.”
“Come on!” she shouted back.
I sighed and made my way to the intersection, but when I looked in the direction she’d run she was nowhere to be seen.
“Madison!”
“Over here Scott.”
I jogged in the direction of her voice. “Stay where you are Maddie, and keep talking to me.”
A giggle and the sound of running feet.
“You can consider this afternoon’s ice cream date cancelled if you take one more step,” I announced.
The sound of running stopped.
“Where are you?”
“I’m here Scott.”
I followed the sound of her voice, but soon found myself at a dead end. I backtracked, but with each turn her voice seemed farther away, until I couldn’t hear her at all.
“Madison?” I yelled.
Children and adults laughed all around, but Madison’s voice wasn’t among them.
“Madison!”
Pool of Demons by Sam Burns & WM Fawkes
Chapter 1
Syren
“Kneel.”
Behind me, the squelch of mud signaled the man’s swift compliance. His knees, weighed down by gleaming armor, sank into the muck at water’s edge, and his adoring gaze prickled the hair at the nape of my neck.
I couldn’t look at him.
This man had come to kill me.
He was not the first to approach my secluded pond, he wouldn’t be the last, but my patience wore thinner with every intrusion. They came with their blustering demands, swinging swords high in the air, threatening to turn the water red with my blood and demanding what was mine.
To the last, they wound up here, on their knees, desperate to recant every word, to prove themselves worthy of a glance from me. All it took was that first look, and the poor warriors melted.
This knight’s sword had pierced the ground and stood upright an arm’s length away from him, forgotten.
I had a sword of my own, but not once in these past centuries had I cause to use it. My glare cut quicker, and my magic, feeble as it’d become in this barren, simple place, was far more comfortable in hand.
My sword had lain glittering at the bottom of the clear blue pond for centuries. The water was still enough that the edges of the blade hardly wavered. Recent rainfall had swollen the banks and turned the surrounding forest muddy and dank. But here, the sunlight filtered through green leaves, dripping golden across the water’s surface.
All these intruders came for a weapon they didn’t understand, couldn’t even wield. Once, it’d belonged to Prince Stryg of Faerie. Now, it was mine. It’d never been meant for human hands. In them, the damned thing only caused devastation.
Three hundred years, watching the sun sweep across the sky from beneath the water’s surface, and I was dead tired of keeping that infernal thing company. This sort of weariness wasn’t meant to happen—not to immortals. Certainly not to one as young as me.
This once, it was tempting to let the mortal take it, see what curses the blade dropped on him. Only, I could no sooner part with the thing than sink my hand into my own chest and rip out my still-beating heart. Fuck, that might be easier than letting the thing go. I could not forget the ways my heart and soul were twisted up in all that gleaming steel.
“Master?” The mortal’s voice floated on the air, soft and sweet and tempting. Or it might have been, were I still whole and susceptible to such trifles.
I scoffed. I’d had masters in my life, but never had I been one myself.
All of this, for one sword that belonged to me, at the bottom of a pond that belonged to me—and neither of those facts mattered, for this world did not belong to me, did not recognize my rights, and would reject me if given half an opportunity.
Unfortunately for us both, we were stuck together.
I turned and looked into the man’s dull, flat eyes. “What’s your name?”
He started, as if he’d forgotten.
“Fernand,” he whispered after a moment. The corners of his lips trembled, as if he feared I would find his name displeasing. It was no more displeasing than the sword at his side or his violent intentions. No more displeasing than his plain face and brute demeanor.
This had always been the power of the fae, to tempt and entice and seduce. Fernand had simply wandered too close to a trap I’d never meant to set. But now that he was here—
“What do you want, Fernand?”
My sword, I knew. Power, I guessed. Only when his mouth fell open, that was not what he asked for.
“You.” His voice was caught on a gasp. I stepped closer, and his shaky hands rose to trace up my bare thighs, to whisk away the water droplets still clinging to my skin. “I desire only you.”
I touched his face. His cheek was rough with stubble. When I swiped my thumb across his lips, they parted for a warm, humid gasp.
“Then let us make a deal, dear Fernand. I will find a use for these lips”—crimson flooded in his cheeks, and when he nodded, he pressed into my curled fingers—“then you will leave this place and forget you ever found it. I will be nothing more to you than a happy dream. Do you agree?”
“Yes. Gods, yes.” His hands flexed on my hips then, dragging me toward his mouth, open and eager and slick with spit.
I sighed. Perhaps I’d be a happy dream to him.
To me, this human was nothing.
My Ghost Roommate by Daryl Banner
-1-
Treat or Trick?
It isn’t the creepy spiderweb decorations.
It isn’t the tiny white ghost and skeleton ornaments hanging from the lighting fixtures that seem to stare at me no matter where I stand.
Nor is it the seasonal and ever persistent aroma of pumpkin spice that has me pulled through the doors of Spooky Beans Café on 13th and Fortune Street.
It’s the adorable barista at the counter.
“Hey there. What can I get for you?”
I plaster on my signature I-promise-I’m-not-a-creep smile and suck in a nervous breath before answering. “Caramel latte, please, extra cream.”
“Coming right up,” he says with a wink.
His name’s Byron. His eyes sparkle in a soft and velvety sea of warm bronze skin, punctuated with the cutest button nose and pinched at the cheeks by dimples when he smiles with those lips I can just drown in. His hair is a short, cropped set of tight dark curls, shaved up the sides in a stylish fade with a line cut through it.
And every morning, he sells me coffee in a cup with the wrong name written on the side.
It’s my fault. The first time I came here not too long ago, my eyes fell on that irresistible, tight-shirted barista behind the counter and became so flustered, it’s anyone’s guess what the hell came out of my mouth.
But now I get a cup every time with “Calvin” written on the side. My real name is Griffin.
I don’t have the heart to correct him.
Calvin isn’t so bad a name to live with, right?
And how could I possibly correct him now? I’ve let too much time go by. It’d be weird.
I usually embrace my weirdness. I’m a fairly weird guy. But “weird” isn’t exactly attractive to just anyone, and I don’t want to be written off so soon. Honestly, I wish I had just the tiniest bit of courage inside me, just enough to have an actual dialogue with Byron that doesn’t involve how I take my coffee or how much my change is. I wish I could peer into those syrupy eyes and not melt at the knees or lose my breath like a total loser.
“Here you go, Calvin,” he says, sliding my finished coffee across the counter with a dashing smile.
I choke out a thank-you, then barely meet his eyes before scurrying out the doors. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually manage to smile back.
You know, before I run away like a spooked cat.
Believe it or not, despite all my weirdness, I happen to know someone a hundred times weirder than myself: my landlord Mrs. Shaheen, who lives right across the hall from me. The second I get to my door and pull out my keys, she’s instantly at her doorway, squinting as if through a haze of thick smoke, clicking her tongue with curiosity. “Hi,” she says through a bush of dark brown curls, her thick eyebrows pinched together suspiciously as she leans on a crooked mahogany cane. She doesn’t look all that old, so I wonder why she needs it. Maybe she’s a sorceress. That seems rather plausible suddenly.
Anyway, she’s barely known me a few weeks and she already seems attached to me like I’m her favorite nephew. “Hi, Mrs. Shah—”
“How’s your apartment holding up?” she asks too quickly, cutting me off. “Appliances working properly? Water running?”
Her voice is squeaky and curious. Or maybe I ought to say: inquisitive. “Everything’s fine, Mrs. Sh—”
“No creaky doors? Strange electrical occurrences?”
“Nope and nope.” I’m still working to get the key into the lock.
Her left eye seems twitchy. “Are you sure?”
To say she’s peculiar is a grave understatement. I turn to face her. “Is everything alright with you, Mrs. Shaheen? You seem off.” Actually, this is right about on par with her usual level of oddness. “I know Halloween is just a few days away, and you expressed how that holiday makes your skin crawl, and—”
“Oh, did I say that?” She chuckles lightly. “I don’t remember mentioning that. I actually adore Halloween. Are you sure it was me who said that and not, say, a whispery, ghostly voice in the dark of night …?”
She’s paranoid, too. “Quite sure.”
“I’ll understand if you want to move out,” she says at once, stepping away from her door to approach me. “I’ll let you break your lease, free of charge, I will. I’m wracked with guilt every night when I sleep, thinking of what you must be enduring in that apartment. You are being brave right now—so, so brave—but I can see the fear in your eyes. Things haven’t been fine, have they?”
I’m still clutching my coffee in my other hand. My eyes catch the “Calvin” written across the side, and my heart jumps, picturing the sweet, sexy face of the barista who wrote it. I wish I was as brave as she thinks I am.
The woman grabs hold of my arm. “It’s haunted.”
I snap my eyes to hers. “Sorry?”
“Your apartment, the one I tricked you into renting. I’m a terrible person. It’s haunted. It’s truly haunted.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Haunted …?”
“He died too young. It was a murder. A terrible and gruesome murder. An act of arson. You can even see the burn spot on the wall near the kitchen. Even worse, some rumors say it was a suicide. Oh, but I can’t bear the thought! What a tortured, terrible spirit he must be!”
I frown. “I didn’t read anything about a murder—”
“Oh, of course, they hushed it up, kept it out of the papers, but …” Mrs. Shaheen’s large, wary eyes drift to the door where the tiny numbers are drilled into the wood, the last one cockeyed in the slightest. “It’s a sad fact about 313 … that a dark, tormented soul haunts its walls, the ghost of a young man who died too young … and who bitterly hates the living. Especially anyone who lives longer than him.” She squeezes my arm with surprising strength. “How old did you say you are?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, you’re so, so brave.” I just now realize she left her cane by her door, clutching my arm with both of her hands. “But I will understand if you no longer wish to stay. I should have disclosed this information before.”
My ability to take a sip of my coffee is taken away by her tight grip on my arm. I smile patiently at her. “I am perfectly fine staying here, ma’am. It’s a rather big place for the price, and the location is close to my new job, which I start tomorrow. Not to mention the … well, the … nice coffee shop on the corner down the street.” And there goes my heart again, drifting away to the charming, dimply, tight-shirted barista in his apron. Is it too late to down this cup and go right back for seconds?
“Of course, there may yet be nothing to fear!” she says suddenly. “You can avoid the wily spirit’s wrath if you follow three simple rules.”
I blink away thoughts of Byron. “Three simple—?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? First rule is: don’t ever open your fridge after midnight. Big no-no.”
I squint skeptically at her. I’m pretty sure I already broke that one a few times just last night.
“You can look at me all you want with those cute, questioning green eyes of yours,” she sings, “but it will not change the fact that the cunning phantom has a large appetite for midnight snacks. Ready for rule two?”
“Mrs. Shah—”
“Don’t mention anything about a certain rock band that isn’t a Prince, Princess, or King, but the other one. The ghost has a bad, bad, bad association with that band, and any mention of it, so—”
“You mean Queen?”
The woman throws a conniption and backs away as if I just turned into a neon flamingo. “Goodness, child, are you taking any of this seriously?? You’re playing with fire here! Now speaking of fire, there’s just one more rule, the most important rule of all, and I—”
“I’m okay, Mrs. Shaheen. You don’t have to worry.”
“But I haven’t told you—”
“Really, I’ll be fine. In fact …” I lean toward her. She takes a step back. “I don’t even believe in ghosts.”
Who knew that such an unassuming set of words could completely render the woman speechless.
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket. “Sorry, I gotta take this. It might be my new boss.”
“Oh, child …” is all the woman says as I give an apologetic smile, wrest my arm free from her vice grip, then let myself into the apartment. I’m pretty sure she’ll be standing there for a good hour or two, likely listening at my door, ready to burn some sage or call an army of priests to assist at the first sign of distress.
Once inside, I shut and lock the door, then pull out my phone and slap it to my ear. “Hello? Sir?”
“Griffin James? Hi, this is Marcia at Pixelomenon Multimedia. How’re you doing today?”
Oh. Marcia? Maybe it’s my new boss’s secretary. I smile. “Great, thank you! I was just about to call and—”
“I regret having to do this over the phone, but we have had to go in a different direction with our graphics artists, which resulted in a premature cut of half of our new hires. I’m afraid that includes you, Mr. James.”
I drop to the couch, stunned. “Me …?”
“If you reapply in four to six months, we may have positions open again. You do have a notable résumé.”
Not notable enough, apparently. “But I … I just got a new place, and—”
“I hope you understand, this came as a surprise to many. Here at Pixelomenon, we strive to ensure—”
To be honest, her sweet and meaningless words just melt together into a murky stew of dread, and I’m left sitting on the couch staring blankly at the kitchen. What am I going to do now? How will I pay my rent?
“I wish you the best.” She hangs up before I’m able to respond, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not sure what I’d say anyway, except that I’m quite sure this wasn’t the trick I was expecting mere days before Halloween. At least give me a bucketful of tasteless candy corn first to soften the blow, right?
That night, I lie in bed for too many restless hours with a sheen of sweat over my forehead. I can’t get any sleep. I’m in a mood. Wind keeps brushing against the windows, making them creak irritably, as if they’re just as fidgety as I am. My troubled mind drifts back to my landlord, who I most certainly will not inform about my recent employment status change: being let go before my first day of work. And that, coupled with my ever persistent feelings about a certain barista I can’t seem to talk to or get off my mind, has me feeling like a failure. Not to mention all the promises I made to my parents—and to myself—before getting this apartment in town.
At least it’ll be Halloween soon. There is something about everyone deciding they would rather be anyone other than themselves for a night that I find I can deeply relate to at the present moment—even if they’re a ghoul, or a toothy werewolf, or a slutty kitten person.
Or an adorable barista. In a tight shirt. With his equally adorable apron. And perfectly-styled hair.
Ugh, I am so not sleeping tonight. I close my eyes, clutch my pillow like it’s done something wrong to me, then turn over to my other side, determined as hell to get a wink of sleep after this awful day.
Hey, maybe Spooky Beans is hiring?
That thought makes me smile.
Until I hear the loud crash in the kitchen that has me bolting up from my bed in surprise.
I wait and listen. Nothing touches my ears. Didn’t I have a stack of dishes precariously balanced right by the sink? No, I put them away. What about the mountain of Tupperware in that one cabinet that I told my mom I didn’t need but she packed anyway? No, it didn’t sound like a particularly plastic crash. What was that?
I lie back down, annoyed, then turn away to face the wall as I close my eyes again. Then comes a groan that doesn’t quite sound like the building settling. Even more irritated, I curl up tighter. Can’t I just get a few measly minutes of sleep in this damned apartment?
Then I hear the floorboards creak under the weight of clear and unmistakable footsteps in the living room.
This is probably the moment any reasonable person would think back to Mrs. Shaheen’s words of warning. A reasonable person would be worried. Freaked out. They would search for a weapon under the bed or reach for the baseball bat in their closet and investigate the noise with fight-or-flight grit, ready to strike whatever comes at them, whether it be robber or poltergeist.
Instead, my reckless ass huffs testily, slumps out of bed in just a pair of low-rise tighty whities, and marches out of my room unarmed. As I suspected, no lights are buzzing or flickering in strange patterns. No cupboards are ajar. Nothing floats in midair unexplainably.
No, this place isn’t haunted. The only damned thing haunting me is Byron’s face in my mind as he smiles, hands me my coffee, and tells me to have a great day over and over again in a tormenting, lusty loop.
I find myself stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, where my eyes fall on a spot by the wall. It looks like a fresh (and hurried) paintjob is covering something up. Is that the burn spot Mrs. Shaheen mentioned? I shrug it off and head for the fridge, yanking it open to get a glass of milk—where I note only three slices left of the pizza I ate for dinner. Wasn’t there four before? I shrug that off too and tiredly gulp away, fridge open, carefree. The milk doesn’t help, except to gift me an ill-timed craving for chocolate chip cookies at this gloriously late hour—two-ish in the morning, to be precise.
So I head to my tiny desk by the window, flick on a lamp, and pull out my laptop. Might as well make use of my sleeplessness by setting up a job interview or two, right? Of course, knowing how awkward and frozen I get under stressful circumstances, I’m not confident in the least at my prospects of actually landing another job.
To my surprise, however, I’m able to find three different places for which to schedule interviews with such short notice. And for tomorrow, at that! How lucky am I? Encouraged now, I open Spotify and let it play whatever it thinks I’d like to hear as I hunt some more.
It chooses Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.
I frown, squinting suspiciously at it.
The power cuts off at once, taking the lamplight, music, and internet away, only a glow from the laptop remaining. Lovely. With a sigh, I grab the matchbox in the drawer, strike one, then light the candle on my desk.
That’s when I spot the dude leaning against the wall staring back at me through the darkness, a limp slice of pizza dangling from his hand.
Night Prince by Felice Stevens
Massimo glanced up from reading the newspaper as Damion bounded down the stairs.
“Where are you off to? You look like you’re on a mission.”
“I’m going across town to Macy’s. They’re open late tonight—until nine-thirty, and I need some new clothes.” He pointed at his ripped jeans. “I only have one other pair, and I need some shirts and stuff, especially now that you want me to sit in on your video conferences with you and not remain in the background. It’s my dinner hour, so I won’t be taking time from work.”
Massimo set the paper down, frowning. “First of all, you should not worry about doing personal things during your free time. I do not own you, Damion. You work for me. Second of all, I think that is a good idea. Are you sure they will have what you need?”
Damion snorted. “They’re only the biggest store in the world. I think I’ll find something.” His blue eyes twinkled, and Massimo fought that internal war that made him want to grab Damion and kiss him, while knowing it was wrong. It was exhausting to fight this attraction, and instead of it waning as he’d hoped, it was gaining strength.
Damion snapped his fingers. “Hey. I have an idea. Why don’t you come with me? You can help me pick out stuff and tell me what looks good. I’m hopeless like that, and you have a great sense of style.”
Massimo was hesitant. “You want me to go clothes shopping? I’ve never done that before. I wouldn’t know what to do.”
Damion’s eyes bugged out, and he stood mute for a moment. “You’re kidding. You’ve never been in a department store?”
Massimo shrugged. “Why would I? I have a tailor come and make my suits and shirts. Anything else I need, Claudio orders for me. Stores are crowded with people.” He made a face. “Why would I want to go?”
“Because you can try stuff on you might not know you even want. I love impulse-buying. Please? Come with me?”
It was pointless to try and resist those big blue eyes. And that was how Massimo D’Alba, prince of the Fold and one of the most powerful vampires in the world, found himself in a dressing room in Macy’s, wearing a hot-pink T-shirt that said: Yoga is my superpower, and an indecently tight pair of gray sweat pants.
“I think not.” He exited the dressing room to show Damion, who stood in front of the three-way mirror in a tank top the color of his eyes and biker shorts.
When their eyes met, Damion’s jaw dropped, and he spun around.
Massimo shifted under his heated stare, and his cock hardened. Mortified, he took a step away, praying Damion hadn’t noticed. “I can’t believe you made me try this on.”
“Oh, loosen up. Lots of guys wear this when they exercise.” Damion cocked his head. “You look good. Really good.”
“I look as ridiculous as I feel. I’ll stick to what I have, thank you. And we came here for you, not me.”
Damion turned to his own mirror, and Massimo’s gaze fixed on his perfect ass, hugged by the second-skin material of the biker shorts. Massimo had enough trouble with the damn spin bike; did he need to be tortured by Damion wearing next to nothing while they exercised? Having a hard-on while spinning was a singularly painful experience he tried to avoid.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Lacey lives in New Mexico with her four critters. She’s a Jill-of-all-trades by day, but loves writing in her spare time. She dabbles in a variety of pairings, but jumped feet-first into the deep end of omegaverse the first time she read it. She loves the play on social expectations and the different ways to express romance.
Sam lives in the Midwest with husband and cat, which is even less exciting than it sounds, so she's not sure why you're still reading this.
She specializes in LGBTQIA+ fiction, usually with a romantic element. There's sometimes intrigue and violence, usually a little sex, and almost always some swearing in her work. Her writing is light and happy, though, so if you're looking for a dark gritty reality, you've come to the wrong author.
W.M. Fawkes is an author of LGBTQ+ urban fantasy and paranormal romance. With coauthor Sam Burns, she writes feisty Greek gods, men, and monsters in the Lords of the Underworld series. She lives with her partner in a house owned by three halloween-hued felines that dabble regularly in shadow walking.
Daryl Banner is an author and composer who graduated magna cum laude from the University of Houston Honors College with a degree in both Theatre and Psychology. During his time in college, he wrote, composed, and produced a musical under Tony Award-winning musical and Theatre producer Stuart Ostrow, as well as two original plays produced under the mentorship of Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Lanford Wilson, who also mentored Daryl through the writing of his very first novel. In addition to new adult and M/M romance, Daryl also writes post-apocalyptic fantasy as well as dystopian. He is most inspired by the smart and unlikely hero, but urges you (the reader) not to fall in love with them; they may deceive you with their innocence.
Join his mailing list here to never miss out on the latest from Daryl Banner! He awards one of his subscribers an Amazon gift card every newsletter.
Felice Stevens has always been a romantic at heart. She believes that while life is tough, there is always a happy ending around the corner. Her characters have to work for it, because just like life in NYC, nothing comes easy and that includes love.
Felice is the 2020 Lambda Literary Award winning author in best Gay Romance. She lives in New York City and has way too much black in her wardrobe. If she's not writing, you'll probably find her watching reality TV or procrastinating on FB in her reader group, Felice's Breakfast Club.
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Tim Paige(Narrator)
Sam Burns
EMAIL: sam@burnswrites.com
WM Fawkes
EMAIL: waverly@fawkeswrites.com
Daryl Banner
The Blood Boss by Davidson King
Pumpkin Batch Cutie by Lacey Daize
Pool of Demons by Sam Burns & WM Fawkes
My Ghost Roommate by Daryl Banner
Night Prince by Felice Stevens
