He Sees You When You're Sleeping by Sara Dobie Bauer
Summary:We met when you were just a child, but you’re a man now and need my protection.
With Christmas Eve approaching, I’ll watch over you.
Whether you know it or not.
Because no one is allowed to hurt you.
No one but me.
At 20K words, He Sees You When You’re Sleeping is a twisted take on Santa, featuring M/M romance, horror, and the holiday season.
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!! How did I miss this last year? This is my first read from Sara Dobie Bauer but it won't be my last!
I won't say too much about He Sees You When You're Sleeping so not to spoil this short novella. I will say that I don't think I've ever read or seen such a unique and intriguing take on Santa Claus before which probably made me love it even more. He Sees You may not be the family oriented, animated classic, Hallmark brand of the man in the red suit that has dominated our Christmas memories but Sara Dobie Bauer's Kris will forever live on in my future holidays.
Despite the darker take on a holiday staple, you can't help but cheer for Kris and Jack, wanting them to have that Hallmark HEA but whether they do is something you will have to read for yourself. Trust me if you enjoy a little dark mixed with holiday light than He Sees You When You're Sleeping is definitely up your Christmas chimney.
RATING:
Summary:
Demon Magic #3
Nothing can go wrong with being in love with a demon and having a dragon familiar whose idea of a fun time is watching me plummet to the ground, right? Now that things have settled down, I’m hoping to finally get some peace and quiet to spend with Havoc.
Instead, we get a guy who can walk the river of the dead, a centaur that seems allergic to pants, and an angel who has only one true love: himself.
This is the group of misfits I’ve been given to protect the district.
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how we stopped an unbelievably powerful dark mage.
After finding a strange book in the middle of the woods that seems to be connected to curse magic, I find myself in the presence of someone from my past… someone I never expected to meet again. As the clues lead us into a district on the brink of destruction, Havoc and I realize that in order to stop the district from collapsing and taking down our friends with it, we can’t do it alone. With the assistance of my chaotic crew, we are going to stop this darkness before it consumes those we care about.
But everything comes at a cost because when you work with magic, nothing is predictable.
Summary:
One wet, freezing night, a beautiful angel and a monstrous demon seek each other’s secret company. Yoshiel and Labal would never be allowed to meet on normal terms, but they’re desperate: they’re both trapped in the human world, and have had a horrific penalty extracted from them by their masters.
Only they know what they’ve done to deserve punishment, and only they can appreciate just how ironic and cruel that punishment is. Will they be left to suffer forever in this strange limbo state, or is it a test to see how they may learn from each other? Their forbidden meeting will either prove their undoing – or their release.
Summary:
Seven Corners Shifters #1
The last thing I wanted was to run from my past- right into my fated mate.
Omega wolf Rashad Hall is running. He needs a safe place to start over, and the last thing he wants is an alpha. When he steps into Seven Corners and immediately scents “mate,” he fights his most basic impulse to seek out his one true love, Bronx Bolder, the lead alpha who has to grant permission to stay on his territory. Instead Rashad trespasses, courting disaster, but he’s irresistibly drawn the strong, tempting, in-control alpha. Rashad can’t let go of his fears. What happens when he can’t stay away from Bronx, either?
Alpha wolf Bronx Bolder can’t find an omega strong enough to stand by his side, and he’s tired of looking. When he discovers omega wolf Rashad started a small successful business on his territory, Bronx starts out feeling irked but soon comes to admire Rashad’s fighting spirit. When he realizes they’re fated mates, it’s easy to fall in love- and into bed- with the alluring, mysterious omega. Rashad pulls Bronx close, then pushes him away. Rashad’s keeping a lot of secrets, including the result of their tryst- a pregnancy. When Rashad’s past comes back to bite him, can Bronx protect him and the new life in his womb?
What’s Rashad running from? How will his past come back to haunt him? Can Bronx help his fated mate overcome his fears for a chance at true love?
This is the first book in the Seven Corner Shifters series. This book has a HEA and contains occasional strong language, MPREG, and hot, spicy grownup stuff. The omegas are heating up and the alphas are very knotty boys. Get a FREE short story when you join the newsletter family!
The City Dragon's Mate by Silvia Violet
Summary:
Lonely Dragons Club #3
Best Decision Ever: Hiring a man in need of discipline and finding out he’s your fated mate.
Bartholomew
When a friend calls, hoping I’ll take a problem employee off his hands, I jump at the chance. Despite running a large company and having a bustling city at my feet, I’m bored. I need a project. And if that project happens to be teaching a young man discipline, all the better.
But when he arrives, I realize my mistake. Pierre carries burdens from his past and needs my comfort as well as my discipline. My dragon instincts tell me I’m never going to want to let him go.
Pierre
I made a terrible mistake, and it nearly cost me my life. Now I’ve got a second chance with Bartholomew, and I’m determined not to screw it up, no matter what he requires of me. But I didn’t expect to want him so much, not when longing for a different dragon was what got me into this mess in the first place.
All I’d ever wanted was security, but now I’m falling in love. And nothing sounds riskier than trusting my heart to a dragon.
He Sees You When You're Sleeping by Sara Dobie Bauer
He went by Kris, although little children knew him by another name. When December 24 arrived, so did the woman in black, her face always hidden by a hood. Together, they would spend a night of toil that felt much longer than only one night. They had spent Christmas Eve together for decades, maybe more. Kris wasn’t clear on time. The only thing clear was his annual duty: walk the world every Christmas Eve, protect children, and leave gifts for the ones who believed.
There weren’t as many believers anymore; several houses didn’t glow as Kris walked a poor street on the outskirts of New York City. Sadly, most of the small houses were dark, which meant the children who lived there no longer awaited the entity known as “Father Christmas.” That meant Kris could pass by those homes. He and the woman in black had no time for unbelievers.
They stopped in front of one house, though, and Kris tilted his head to the side, curious. The house was ramshackle, probably built in the 1970s or early 80s. Bright white snow sat heavily on the roof—at least six inches—and Kris wouldn’t have been surprised if the roof caved in. He was impressed the house still stood at all with its decrepit, cracked siding; one broken window, covered in thick paper and tape; and not a single Christmas light.
Yet, the house …
It didn’t glow, per se. It flickered. Kris couldn’t remember seeing anything like it, and although his ageless memory was vast, he knew it couldn’t be trusted. There was a big, empty space in his life before he became “Kris.” He remembered nothing before that one Christmas Eve when he woke up and started walking with the woman in black, visiting all the houses that glowed—so many back then. So few now.
Why did this house flicker, like an aged light bulb about to go out?
He didn’t bother asking his companion for answers. In all their time together, the woman in black never spoke. When Kris approached the front door, made of scraped and weatherworn wood, she followed. Kris took them to The Other Place where they couldn’t be seen. Then, they walked through the front door.
As soon as they entered the cramped foyer, Kris smelled cigarettes and heard shouting. A child cried, “Run! Go!” followed by the sound of furniture being knocked over.
An adult voice joined the hubbub: “You little shit.”
Kris actually startled at the vicious smack of flesh hitting flesh. Then, the echo of a body hitting the floor. The misleading quiet swish of bodies in an altercation. The child cried out again just as Kris turned a corner, and the woman in black lingered behind, as usual.
Kris entered a living room with a threadbare couch, cheap TV, and dark fireplace. An overflowing ashtray was knocked over, spilled beside a three-legged coffee table held up by a stack of phone books.
Invisible to all present, Kris ground his teeth at the scene as a father knelt above his son, who couldn’t have been older than ten, and smacked him repeatedly, while the child flailed his skinny arms to no avail.
The father kept cussing, mumbling to himself, and Kris smelled alcohol from where he stood. A soft whimper caught his attention. In the back corner, beneath a kitchen table, two children—smaller than the one being attacked—stared in horror but remained hiding. Apparently, this was a usual occurrence, their bigger brother defending them by accepting the brunt of their father’s ire.
Kris’s heart ached.
After one more solid whack, the drunken dad pointed in the boy’s face.
The boy bled from his mouth but didn’t shed a tear.
“That’s what you get for asking for a goddamn fire because it’s Christmas.” The word came as a taunt. “Christmas ain’t even real, you fucking halfwit. It’s just another useless day.” Then, the father pushed to his feet and wove across the room unsteadily before disappearing down a dark hall.
It took a moment for the child on the floor to sit up, but he did eventually, dark hair a mess. He wiped his bleeding face on the sleeve of an oversized flannel shirt with a hole in the elbow. Kris recognized the boy, although on previous Christmas Eves, he had never looked so malnourished, so sick.
After a silent moment, the two other children exited their hiding spot and joined their brother in the center of the room.
The little girl, hair in a messy ponytail, said, “Told you,” and poked her brother in the knee.
He didn’t acknowledge her, just stared into the empty fireplace.
“Yeah,” the other child said. Although probably no older than six or seven, he had a rough appearance as though he’d spent several years living on the street.
The smaller children recovered fast and left, probably off to their bedrooms to play. Kris hated how fast they recovered, because it meant this third child—the elder child who had protected them—received beatings often. And no one cared.
Kris observed as the bleeding boy continued staring into the fire with his arms wrapped around his bent knees. That was when he noticed.
It was this boy who flickered. This boy had called Kris into the house.
With a snap, Kris produced a fire in the fireplace, and the child skidded backwards across the warped wooden floor. Then, Kris wrapped the boy safely in The Other Place and sat at his side. Kris might have expected some kind of reaction—a scream, perhaps, which was why he’d wrapped them in the place where no one could see or hear them until Kris allowed.
But the child didn’t scream. He looked at Kris, at the fire, and glanced over his shoulder down the hall.
“No one will bother us,” Kris said quietly.
The kid wrinkled his nose. “Shit, he must have hit me really hard this time.” The profanity sounded extra ugly coming from the mouth of someone so young.
“Does your father hit you a lot?” Kris asked. He felt huge next to someone so small and frail. He wondered when the child had last eaten.
The boy winced. “That’s not my father.” He shrugged. “I don’t know my father. Frank is just my foster asshole.” He wiped a drop of blood from the side of his mouth with his thumb. “Who are you anyway?” Reflected flames danced in his wide eyes, green as a freshly cut pine tree.
“Father Christmas.”
The child’s head whipped toward him. “What? Like, Santa?”
“Yes.” Kris nodded. “And you believe in me.”
Malicious Midpoint by Alice Winters
Chapter One
Nothing like freefalling to my death.
Goddammit. Why? Why have I lived to be this damn old only to die like this?
The wind is whipping past me as the tiny houses below me steadily become bigger, reminding me that while my fall might seem endless, my end is drawing increasingly nearer.
“Miles… I kind of feel like you don’t quite have the situation under control,” Havoc says, voice in my mind since he’s currently in his raven form. He’s diving beside me to keep up with my steady fall.
“Nope, I have everything perfectly, one hundred percent under control. I’m drowning in control.”
Havoc, who’s a demon and also the love of my life, holds nothing back as he makes a noise at me, like he thinks something about this is hilarious. The moment I started falling to my death, he dutifully flew after me, but he can do nothing to save me and more or less seems to find amusement in my predicament.
“Did you just… chortle?” I ask, wind whipping so hard it’s making my eyes water.
“I would never.”
I snatch the raven out of the air and draw him into my chest, making sure to pin his wings down so he can’t flutter off.
“Dammit, Miles! What the hell are you doing?” he asks in my head. He can do this because we’re linked as demon and mage. Even though I’ve given him free will at this point, he still likes to share the link we have held between each other for hundreds of years.
“I thought that since you loved me, we should die together. You know? Embraced in each other’s arms.”
He pecks at me. “Oh no, no. I should not be punished for this. I did not call the giant flesh-eating monster cute.”
In retrospect, calling my familiar cute when he had my life in his… paws was not the smartest thing to do. But one would think their own familiar would like them enough to not just drop them, leaving them to plummet to their death because someone called them cute.
Clearly, not this one.
“He’s not actually going to let me die because of this, right?” I ask.
Havoc doesn’t say anything, which, let’s be honest, isn’t a good thing.
“I mean… he secretly likes me, right?” I ask, trying to think back on all the moments of affection my familiar, Menace, has given me.
I come up with nothing.
“Well, shit.”
“That house is starting to look quite close,” Havoc says.
Fuckity fuck fuck. I’m going to die because I called Menace cute. This is my fate… this is—
“Menace, I’m sorry! You’re big and mighty and strong and the complete opposite of cute!” I yell, not quite sure he can even hear me since I can’t even see him any longer. I let Havoc go. “Live for me.”
He grabs onto the back of my shirt with his talons, which does absolutely nothing to slow me down no matter how hard he beats his wings.
And as doubt starts to settle in my mind, the giant red dragon swoops down and snatches me up in one massive, clawed foot. He slows down the descent before dropping me onto the ground where I land in some mud. Menace seems to realize this and “helps” by picking me up and setting me on my feet while mud and water drip from my face. Then the giant dragon shifts back into a very red cat who immediately begins grooming his paw like holding me up and saving my life left him with a disease he’ll only free himself from by grooming.
Havoc shifts from his raven form into his more humanlike form before landing next to me. He’s an extremely handsome man with sharp eyes and white horns that rise from his black hair. His focus is currently on Menace, my familiar, who he dislikes greatly. (I honestly think a lot of it stems from the fact that Menace won’t allow him to ride on his back when he’s a dragon.)
“What if we just like… get rid of him?” Havoc suggests.
The thing is, mage familiars have been nonexistent for many years. In the centuries I’ve been around, I’ve never even heard of someone having one, and to my knowledge, Menace is the only one of his kind. And while that sounds fascinating and thrilling to probably anyone else in the world, it’s because they’re not aware that Menace is… well… a menace.
Scraping the mud off my face, I angry-walk right up to the cat who pauses with his black tongue sticking out. It’s ridiculously cute, which I will make sure never to allow the cat to know.
I lean over and point a finger at the feline. “You do not ever do that again, do you hear me?”
Menace makes a show of yawning, like he thinks my demands are dreadfully boring. His mouth is full of dozens of needlelike teeth eager to shred my skin.
“Menace!”
He yowls his complaint at me.
“I’m not joking. I could have died, and all for what? Because your pride keeps you from being able to take a compliment?”
“Um… Miles. I love listening to you berate the nasty ball of fur, but I think we have something a bit more… pressing at the moment,” Havoc says as he motions in the direction he’s facing.
I turn and notice that even Menace seems interested in what Havoc has found. Which is concerning because Menace’s goal in life is to pretend he’s not interested in anything besides himself and making others bleed or be miserable.
“Huh,” I say, realizing now that I’m not fixated on berating a cat, that I can feel a strange surge of magic around me. About twenty feet from where we landed is a dead deer lying in the middle of what looks like a small crater. Clearly, something magical blasted the hole in the ground, but the deer placed right in the middle of it is even more peculiar.
“Is it a magic circle?” Havoc eyes it suspiciously.
“No… but I feel magic coming from it,” I say as I inch toward it because, honestly, who knows what the hell we’ll find ourselves in the middle of. Could be just a hole that an unfortunate deer fell into or, knowing our luck, it could be the opening to hell waiting to swallow us up.
I take my chances with hell and head over to it, too damn nosy not to look.
That’s when the deer twitches.
“Is it not dead?” Havoc asks.
“Oh no, it’s dead. It has a spell or something on it,” I say as I watch the creature rise on unsteady feet and burst into flames.
“Huh,” Havoc says, which I’m not sure is immensely helpful in this situation when the flaming ball of… whatever it is lowers its head and aims its flaming antlers right at me before charging.
“Hell,” I mutter, not expecting this as I lift my hand up in an arc, using my magic to create a barrier around me. Thankfully, my magic is very familiar with fire, so as the flames beat against the barrier around me, it holds true.
And just like that, a huge explosion sounds as the creature seems to explode and the fire dissipates.
I drop my barrier and look over at my two companions who both look quite displeased with me for some reason.
“Excuse me?” Havoc grumbles.
“What?” I ask.
“Why did you only barrier your own ass? What about my mighty fine ass?” he asks as he waves to himself.
“It was coming at me! I assumed you’d flutter away on your wings!”
He stares at me while wiping at his cheek. “I think… I think I have deer chunks on my face.”
“That’s not… no…” I say, unsure why he had to share this with me.
“It… exploded and I…” He peers at something on his hand.
“I’m sure it’s only mud… from exploding.” Then I give him a smile as I turn to Menace who is hissing wildly. At first, I’m unsure why until I see that the tip of his tail got singed.
I stare at the cat in disbelief. “Okay now, you’re a fire-breathing dragon, so don’t give me that shit. I assumed you’d dragon your ass out of here!” I say as both demon and familiar glower at me like I called upon the exploding deer.
“I never thought I’d agree with that cat on anything,” Havoc says. “But I do.”
“Oh, come on. You both know if either of you were actually in immediate danger I would rush right to your aid,” I say, feeling kind of guilty. I honestly thought they’d use their own powers to move away! I mean, how the hell is a dragon cat not fireproof? Doesn’t he breathe fire?
Havoc guffaws in the most sarcastic way possible as I narrow my eyes at him.
“You’re both pains in my ass,” I growl as I head over to the original hole and look down in it. At the bottom is nothing but dirt. When I go to step into it, Havoc grabs the back of my hoodie and proceeds to choke me as he pulls me back.
“Don’t go diving in holes you don’t know,” he says.
“That’s what he said,” I say, to which I receive no laughter and more looks. “It’s fine. I wanted to feel if there was magic!” I try to straighten my hoodie before eyeing the hole in the ground since Havoc doesn’t seem happy to let me in it. Menace meows and I look over to where he’s sitting on a book that’s lying open. I’d missed it while fixated on exploding deer and sketchy holes.
When I reach it, I pick it up and immediately realize it’s a restricted book. A book of spells that’d been deemed too unmanageable about a hundred or so years ago. I flip to the front where, if it’s a legal copy, it should have a mark stating where it belongs.
“Huh,” I say.
“What?” Havoc says as he leans over to look at the emblem marked in the front of the book. “Ah. Jacob’s school, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. Jacob Stewart, a mage I’ve worked with on occasion, is the headmaster and founder of a school in a nearby district. The school caters mostly to college-aged adults learning magic, as well as some youth that have surpassed what their schools can help them with. It’s not only for mages or witches but any magical being who has even a smidgen of power that they need help controlling.
But why would one of his restricted books be out here? Generally, people need special permission to even access one.
I hand the book over to Havoc and decide the easiest way to get an answer to this is to call Jacob and see what he has to say.
He answers on the second ring with a “Dear god, not you.”
“Jacob! It’s clear you missed me!”
He’s quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about exactly how much he missed me. “What horribly dark and twisted thing have you gotten into this time?” he asks, like that’s the only time I call him… Okay, so it is the only time I call him. “I nearly died the last time I helped you.”
“Ah, well we all nearly died! As long as none of us actually died, it’s all good! And that’s the fun of it. Anyway, this is actually pertaining to you and your school. Not me. I’m quite innocent here, in fact.”
That seems to snag his attention. “My school?”
“I found one of your books out here. Delany’s Spells and Charms,” I say.
He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re sure it’s mine?”
“Surprisingly enough, I do know how to read.”
“That’s not good,” he says, but I’m not sure if he’s referring to me reading or the book. “I’ll be there. Send me your location.”
I look around, not quite sure how to give the address to a hole in the middle of the woods, but I do my best.
The wait for Jacob leaves me too damn curious and I inch my way over to the hole before Havoc can stop me (he’s too busy telling the cat off for letting me plummet down to earth). Just as I’m going to climb into it, I hear someone rustling through the woods before Jacob shows up in a suit and tie.
“Why in the worlds was it out here and… what is that?” he asks as he points to the hole I’m prepared to drop into.
“Well, it’s a hole,” I say.
“I can see that.”
I explain how the scene was when we stumbled upon it, and he watches me curiously.
“Have you read this book?” Jacob asks when I finish describing everything to him.
“I have, but it’s probably been ninety years or more,” I say.
“There’s nothing like this in it. The book was banned for being unsafe; not in a dark magic kind of way but more like… if you didn’t perform the spell one hundred percent correctly, you were likely to get a limb blown off. The council deemed it hazardous and locked it away. Only my teachers have access to the book, but this… this doesn’t feel like anything out of the book. Is it black magic?”
“I can’t tell yet because I get interrupted every time I try to climb in,” I say and drop inside before Havoc can choke me again. There’s blood from the deer at the bottom as well as a chunk of bone and a lock of dark brown hair.
“Looks almost like a curse,” I say before setting my hand down and closing my eyes. I can feel the magic bubbling gently, telling me the curse had been done at least a day ago at this point. Beyond using the deer’s blood, the body had been placed there to make sure it remained untouched and to scare away anything wishing to harm it. “It’s inactive now. I don’t think it’s black magic, but it’s still dark. A curse of some sort. I don’t know if breaking the magic will stop it, but we’ll see.”
I gather up the bone and hair and then, just with a thought, snap the magic. It’s not hard, especially with how old the spell is and how the person who cast it clearly didn’t think to lock it down. Maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe it needed to fester for a short time before disrupting it caused no issues at all.
I hand the items over to Jacob. “Well, here you are. I’d be careful and find out who managed to get a hold of the book. I’m not quite sure what they were up to, but it clearly wasn’t the best idea if cursework is what they were aiming for.”
Jacob eyes the materials I’ve given him before glancing up at me. “Would you mind going with me? I would love your opinion, and since you were able to feel the magic, maybe you could help me pinpoint who did this.”
Heading off to a different district wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for today, but Jacob did come to my aid when the dark mage Geoff was determined to remove my head from my body. He’s also come to plenty of my district meetings to help where he can—even if he side-eyes my demons—so of course I can’t say no.
“Sure.” I look at Havoc who shrugs.
“Can we torture whoever did it?” Havoc asks eagerly. Menace meows approvingly as he sharpens his claws on a tree.
Jacob looks over at Havoc uneasily. While he’s a mage like me, Jacob is strongly against the use of demons. I think he believes it borders too closely along the lines of dark magic and would like to steer clear of it. It leaves him to have some not-so-fond feelings toward Havoc and my draw to demon magic. “Ha, you’re such a jokester!” Jacob says, clearly in an attempt to try to make the situation less… dark.
“I was not—”
I give Havoc a look that makes him grudgingly shut up. Menace, on the other hand, hisses his complaints. About what? No one knows. Maybe because his nails are newly sharpened and he has no one to maim.
The noise, though, draws Jacob’s attention to him. “He is so fascinating,” Jacob says as he eyes the cat. “To think… a mage’s familiar… I never thought I’d see one. I wonder if there are more out there.”
“Well, this one took like ten murdered people to summon, so…” I start.
Jacob gives me a tight-lipped look. “Uh-huh…”
I feel like I need to remind him that I wasn’t the mass murderer who killed multiple people to summon an evil cat. “I didn’t summon him.”
“I’m aware.”
“If Miles summoned him, he’d have at least summoned a pleasant one,” Havoc decides.
Menace starts yowling as he runs toward me and leaps on Havoc’s back, scaling up him with his sharpened claws before gently jumping onto my shoulder as Havoc howls. Menace is not at all concerned as he grooms his singed tail. Instead, his purrs couldn’t be anything but pleasure as Havoc glares at him, knowing that I won’t allow him to murder the small beast.
Limbo by Clare London
CHAPTER ONE
It was a dark and stormy night.
But for the last few days, Yoshiel had found that was always the case. He pursed his lips, fighting the urge to worry at them with his small, perfectly even teeth. The heavy woollen fabric of his long coat clung to his hips and thighs as he moved, damp from the persistent rain and from brushing against the slimy brickwork of too many dark alleyways, but he pulled the edges of it around him more tightly. Even so, it gave little protection against the weather.
He paused at the mouth of yet one more space between the buildings. Who knew there were so many places to hide in this godforsaken town? He drew a deep breath, trying to steady the harsh beating of his heart. It had been a long night and he’d exerted himself far more than usual. But he knew there were likely many more streets ahead of him to search. The area was known for its plethora of food stores and seedy entertainment establishments, springing up almost overnight in a tangle of narrow lanes. This particular alley ran between a Chinese restaurant and a Mexican cantina, the back doors to each kitchen opening out onto it. Although there were no patrons at either place at this late hour, there were often city dwellers still lingering for mischief or mayhem. But, for now, Yoshiel seemed to be alone.
He lifted a gloved finger to his top lip and flicked away another rivulet of rain. The worst of the storm had eased, but the rain still drizzled down from the grey sky as if it might never exhaust its supply. The water had created paths like tears down the sides of his face, his long, fine hair was drenched by now, and warm trickles sneaked farther on down beneath his high collar. He cursed under his breath, though not too enthusiastically because, when he opened his mouth, he’d found the rain ran into it as well.
The alleyway gaped at him, inviting him into its dark, dank maw. All Yoshiel could hear was the wheeze of his breath and, behind him, the patter and hiss of the rain on the pavement. He took a single step forward. The brick walls steamed from the earlier downpour, and the pitted ground was a mess of puddles, spilling over everywhere he trod. When he looked down, he could see his face reflected in one of them. A spatter of rain drops broke up the surface, his pale, perfectly balanced features shaken and distorted with the glint of oil and other detritus.
It was not the usual look of an angel. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“Nice night for it, eh?”
Yoshiel tilted his head sharply. He didn’t mistake that voice, coarse and mocking. It had come from the far end of the alleyway, where the shadows were deep and everything would stink of ugly, fetid things. He struggled to assess the situation, his logic and evaluation skills tangled up with the sharp stab of panic, and acidic stinging in his nostrils. He thought he could see small movement in the dark, something beyond the shrivelled, rotting food, something beyond the scampering arrogance of city rats.
He straightened up, ignoring the latest shimmer of water that tipped down his neck. “So I’ve found you at last. You’ve made me toil for this, yet I doubt you care. Show yourself now, you coward!”
The darkness in the alley moved again and became a man-shape like his own. And yet—so very not like his own. The figure reared up, suddenly becoming much larger and taller than Yoshiel, even allowing for the distortion from the shadows cast by the dumpsters beside it. Long, multi-jointed arms stretched out, grasping for purchase, or perhaps just gesticulating in protest against the night sky. The head fell backwards, its sodden, matted hair whipping from side to side. The shape was huge and misshapen, defined by shoulders that were too large in proportion to its lower body. In silhouette, the deformity coalesced into a monstrous hunchback.
Yoshiel stepped back in instinctive defence, and stumbled. His boots were flimsy, giving little support, and they slid on the wet ground. His knee wrenched awkwardly as he fell, and he threw out his hand for support. It slipped on the wall, his gloved fingers dragging down between the bricks, failing at first to grip anything solid. A trail of damp lichen was dislodged, leaking under the glove’s wrist strap and seeping down to his elbow. It was cold and clammy on his smooth skin and he cursed again: the words were becoming a habit. With a twist of his hips, he saved himself from complete collapse, and regained his balance.
He’d stepped into a mess of greasy fat and meat shavings, discarded from one of the restaurants. A thin string of gristle wrapped itself around his ankle, tugging at his thin stocking. The fluids from the pile of waste soaked his foot, making a sucking, squelching noise that turned his stomach. Oh shit. He winced at the pain and disgust that wracked him, from his twisted knee to the sopping, stinking mess all around him.
“Oh, what it is to be in the land of humans,” came a hoarse growl from the other creature.
“This would not have been my first choice away from my world,” Yoshiel snapped back with sudden, startlingly vicious resentment. “Why endure such discomfort, such filth, such clumsy, restrictive bodies?” He lifted his boot and shook off the gristle. He couldn’t help the gasp of revulsion that escaped him.
“Like I said,” came the coarse voice again, but this time accompanied by a sharp, barking laugh. “Nice weather for the time of year.”
Yoshiel frowned. “And like I said—”
“I heard you,” the voice snapped. The misshapen figure lurched away from the wall. He dragged his huge body towards the pale sliver of light that ventured no further than the mouth of the alley. It pooled on the surface of one of the larger puddles, illuminating him with deep, looping reflections. He grunted as if his steps caused him pain, and he stopped a few feet away from Yoshiel. “So here I am. Can’t say much for your navigation skills if it’s taken you this long to join me. I’m here and I’m fucking angry, but then, I suspect you know that. And you’ll also know better than to call me a coward.”
“Labal.” Yoshiel sucked in a sharp, painful breath, but his words almost halted at the look on the other’s face. “You know I wouldn’t usually seek out one such as you...”
“An angel seeking a demon? The feeling’s mutual,” Labal said dryly, though there was a glimmer of almost-amusement in his eyes.
“But we are in this together. Do you know what’s happened to us?”
Labal’s gaze glinted back at him, passing in and out of shade as his head rocked from side to side. It was a motion that echoed psychosis, or very deep trauma. “You see me now more clearly than I do myself. I’m sure you recognise what havoc has been wrought on my behalf.”
Yoshiel tried to relax his throat around the knot of shock that grasped it as strongly as a real fist. The pain in Labal’s eyes was rare and, despite his monstrous look, Yoshiel would at one time have felt compassion for him. But when he spoke, he was distressed to hear his usually mellifluous voice emerge hoarse and ragged. “I don’t need to see, Labal. I already share the horror with you. The disgust.”
“Disgust?” Labal’s much deeper voice cracked like a whip. The fierce shake of his head scattered raindrops around them both, pattering down onto the trash below. “I don’t see that at all. You stand there, tall and slender, apparently still with all the trappings of your type. Arrogant, arresting…” Labal’s voice grew quieter. “Beautiful.”
“No.” Yoshiel shook his head. A sodden lock of hair stuck to his cheek. “I have suffered the same violation, and am no longer as I look. You must acknowledge that.”
“I acknowledge the hollow confidence of your approach, the hidden pain in your smooth expression.” Labal started to laugh again, but there was little amusement in the sound. “So yes, if I am honest, it seems you’ve also been damaged.”
“Of course I have!” Yoshiel’s voice rose with his own anger. “I’ve lost everything I treasure, everything I’ve always begged for and aspired to be!”
Labal dragged himself up to his full height, towering above Yoshiel. Yoshiel looked down to where Labal’s reflection stared back from a grimy puddle, rippled by the wind yet recognisable enough. Yoshiel found himself fascinated by it. The shape was ill-lit and mottled grey with the rain, but the smooth, black skin of Labal’s demon face was still familiar. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth full, every feature boldly handsome yet fiercely exaggerated. Yoshiel’s gaze rose, travelling the height of Labal’s body, strong and thickset where Yoshiel’s was lithe. Labal’s arms hung low, the hands brushing the wet ground. Thick, wet hair was brushed back from his wide forehead, and tangled over ears that even in the darkness could be seen to be pointed. Yoshiel knew it was a grotesque body by conventional standards, yet one that had fascinated many other creatures with its own version of athletic, dangerous beauty. His body shivered in response to something other than the night’s chill.
Yes, he recognised desire when it visited him.
His Protective Alpha by Ava Beringer
1
RASHAD
Mate.
“What?” I whispered. My boots crunched into the dirt as I stepped off the Greyhound bus. The immediate energy I felt was safe, welcoming contentment. I hadn’t felt that in a long time. I squinted as I looked around the little city nestled in the mountains. Or was it a big town? A nearby green sign read “Seven Corners, Population 101,000.”
Alpha. Mine. There it was again. I shook my head a little.
“I must really be going crazy if I think I smell my fated mate.” Especially with what I just escaped from. The last thing I would do here was stumble on my mate. The only thought in my head was, Alpha? Run. The good news was, I’d already been doing that for the past forty-eight hours. This might be the very place where I finally stopped.
A barrage of scents hit my nose as I sniffed the air. This town was populous and had every different kind of creature living in it. How could so many different shifter species be in such close quarters all the time without killing each other? I guess I was about to find out. I hoped I wouldn’t be one of the victims, but I refused to join another pack. Not after what happened. Not after what he did.
A little stroll would stretch my limbs, clear my head, give me a sense of what I was dealing with here in Seven Corners. I wouldn’t shift just yet. It could be dangerous, taking my wolf form around other unknown shifters. Sometimes our animal forms ran on pure instinct, and things like sex and violence were a lot more likely.
I rubbed over the fresh bite mark on my bicep, covered by my sleeve. It was healing nicely and I was glad for that. I poked it with a fingertip, pressing until the pain made me hiss. It was a reminder not to get close to anyone here.
Especially not alphas.
The main street was busy and congested with a bit of early-evening traffic, but still had a small-town feel. A couple, both dressed in flannel, strolled hand-in-hand up the sidewalk. They looked at me openly, curiously. I nodded, and they smiled back.
“How’s it going?” Asked the woman cheerfully, with a sort of humble friendliness I’d expect in the midwest instead of Californian mountains.
“Good, thanks.” Lynx, my brain said, my wolf already more territorial than I had a right to be, but I chalked it up to paranoia. There wasn’t much worse than being a lone wolf. And now, I was alone.
A few more folks nodded to me or held up a hand in greeting as I walked past, and my muscles began to lose some of their tension, but only some. It was easy for people to pretend to be friendly up until they got what they wanted from you. Then they went in for the kill.
Huddled between the six-to-ten story buildings built up around it was a two-story commercial building frozen in time. Its clapboard siding used to be a vibrant blue but was now washed out. “Carlos’ General,” the giant wooden sign read, its red paint chipped.
“A real life general store? I didn’t know they had those anymore. I gotta see this.” I pushed my way into the creaking door and a tinny bell rang over my head.
The radio played softly in the background; I caught the DJ's voice mentioning, “El Tigres Del Norte,” and after that my beginner-level Spanish skills failed me.
The place was full of wares and empty of people. The shelves were close together and reached almost to the ceiling, giving the place a cramped feel, but it was also clean and bright, with lots of pride in ownership. I wandered the aisles, finding all sort of knickknacks from animal feed to power tools. My stomach picked that time to grumble.
“Hello?” I called. If they had snacks, I couldn’t find them amidst all the odds and ends.
“Hello, my friend,” came a voice from deep in the store. It had the slight accent of a native Spanish speaker. I followed it into the aisles until I came upon a man of medium height and medium build fiddling with a couple of engine parts at a rear counter. He looked like a harmless older man, but his wolf was still strong and proud.
“Carlos?” I asked.
“What gave it away? Was it the sign out front?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye. He had an aura of warmth around him. I couldn’t help but smile back, pressing my lips together to keep from getting carried away with myself.
“Got any snacks? I could use a little something to eat.”
Carlos waved a hand at me, chuckling. “You walked right past everything, young man.” He shuffled past me and back down the aisle. “Right here.” He held out a hand presenting the candy bars and bags of chips. I looked back and forth. They were surrounded by hair care products on one side and toothbrushes on the other.
Noting my confused expression, Carlos shrugged. “Store got bigger, started carrying more products, and it was easier not to change things around. You’re the only one who doesn’t know where everything is, stranger.” He smiled up at me and waited. I blinked. He waited, still smiling.
Finally, I gave him something, if only because he seemed like someone who never meant any harm.
“I’m not from around here,” I ground out.
“Oh yes, I can see that.” He went quiet again. I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t ready to talk about what happened.
After a second, Carlos relented, throwing his hands up, still smiling. “Okay, okay no worries, you wanna be mysterious, you be mysterious. Keep your secrets.”
I smiled back. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Need a place to stay, I take it?”
“Yeah.” I plucked a bag of potato chips and a Coke from the shelf.
“That’s not gonna be dinner, is it?”
I tilted the Coke bottle, blinking at the label. “Uhhh…” Actually, it was.
Carlos laughed. “No, no, you need real food and a cozy place to stay. Go down to Miss Sadie’s place and have yourself a hot meal. You need it. You smell like about a half-dozen different cities and Greyhound bus air.”
I burst out laughing. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome. It’s not a restaurant or a hotel, more like a mini bed and breakfast. She’ll have a nice room you can book, and she’ll make it feel like home.” He patted me on the shoulder. My wolf, hypersensitive to the touch of any other wolf and especially an alpha, didn’t even flinch. That had to be a good sign.
“What’s the deal with this town, anyhow?” I asked. If anybody would know, he would.
“The deal?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a sizable town, but it’s still packed with lots of shifters. How do so many people come together in such a small space?”
“Oh, that’s what you mean. That’s why it’s called Seven Corners. There are seven major wolf territories that spread out into the land and around the mountains, and they all converge here, in the town center. Folks keep the peace so we can all move around freely. Well, folks mostly keep the peace.” He chuckled.
“All different species of shifters live on the territories, and some packs are more tolerant of visitors or residents who aren’t pack or herd, it all depends. Then you have your more solitary creatures like the pumas who can be more nomadic. It’s a delicate balance, but it makes for a richness of life.”
“Seems nice.” I looked off to the Sierra Nevada Mountains rising around the town.
“It is nice. You’ll love it, once you get settled in.”
I hedged slightly. “I didn’t say I planned to stay.”
Carlos smiled and nodded knowingly. “Didn’t have to.” He patted my forearm, and I felt guided, maybe even protected, by the older wolf.
“Go over to Miss Sadie. She won’t bite. She’ll help you get started on your new life in Seven Corners. Don’t be a stranger.” He shuffled back toward his counter in the rear of the store, humming along to Los Tucanes de Tijuana on the radio.
“Bye,” I whispered, smiling a little to myself. It was then that I realized he hadn’t asked me to pay for my snack.
I didn’t know how things would shake out if I started my life over in this town, but to know somebody like Carlos was a good start. It would be better than the hell I just came from. I’d make sure of that.
The bell sounded again as I stepped back out into the evening air. Mine, my instincts insisted with the flash of the mystery scent on the air.
“If I start my life over again in this town,” I told myself, “I’ll make sure I never find out where that scent is coming from.”
Little did I know how fast I’d break that promise.
The City Dragon's Mate by Silvia Violet
Pierre was a puzzle. Maybe he was what I needed to rid me of my current plague of boredom. Could I find a way to teach him discipline, punish him for having been so selfish, and also make him enjoy it? Of course I could. I could accomplish anything I set my mind to.
I took another step toward him and drew in a deep breath. His scent was incredible, warm, gingery, and so potent. Had I ever smelled a man as delicious as this one? My cock hardened as I imagined what he’d be like spread out and pliable beneath me. Yes, I was definitely going to keep him and find a way to make him want to please me.
Mine, my dragon insisted. He certainly was. For a while anyway. My dragon snarled. No. Keep.
I couldn’t keep him, not for long, not unless… No, he couldn’t be my mate. He smelled incredible, and I was drawn to him, but it couldn’t be that easy. My mate wouldn’t simply be gifted to me after I’d searched for so long.
It was that easy for Laszlo and Kymar.
No, I wasn’t going to listen to that seductive voice. This was only happening because I was feeling desperate, and Pierre was a very attractive young man. I needed to focus on the business at hand.
“You’re going to work here for me. You’ll clean, do the laundry, run errands, and whatever else I require.”
“Will I—” He froze clearly expecting to be rebuked for speaking.
“Continue.”
“Thank you, Mr.… um… What should I call you?”
“Sir will do nicely. Otherwise, Bartholomew is acceptable, but no shortening my name. I abhor nicknames.”
“Oh, right, sir.”
I raised my brows and gave him a hard stare. “Your question?”
“Um… Will I be expected to sleep with you, sir?”
Bestselling romance author.
Bisexual witch.
Feminist. Pro-choice. Anti-censorship.
Timothee Chalamet freak.
Horror movie aficionado.
Vampire mermaid in a past life.
Sara Dobie Bauer somehow survived her party-hard college years at Ohio University to earn a creative writing degree. She lives with her precious Pit Bull in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film.
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.
Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter-three stage and plenty of other projects in mind… she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her on all her social media.
Ava Beringer is a major-league nerd who started off writing fanfiction and fell in love with mpreg and omegaverse. She loves to heat up a slick omega and a knotty alpha. By day she’s a good thirty-something midwestern girl, but she has a dark side. Okay, not really. She’s as bubbly as champagne but she can be really cheeky when you get her going.
She’s an aspiring digital nomad who’s traveled to thirty-two countries and counting. If she’s lucky, a cat will adopt her along the way.
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Silvia Violet writes fun, sexy stories that will leave you smiling and satisfied. She has a thing for characters who are in need of comfort and enjoys helping them surrender to love even when they doubt it exists. Silvia's stories include sizzling contemporaries, paranormals, and historicals. When she needs a break from listening to the voices in her head, she spends time baking, taking long walks, and curling up with her favorite books. Keep up with her latest ventures by signing up for her newsletter.
Sara Dobie Bauer
Alice Winters
EMAIL: alicewintersauthor@gmail.com
Clare London
EMAIL: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk
Ava Beringer
EMAIL: AvaBeringer@gmail.com
Silvia Violet
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EMAIL: silviaviolet@gmail.com
He Sees You When You're Sleeping by Sara Dobie Bauer
Malicious Midpoint by Alice Winters
Limbo by Clare London
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His Protective Alpha by Ava Beringer
The City Dragon's Mate by Silvia Violet
