Hurt Me Not by Davidson King
Summary:As a lieutenant at the Fool’s Pass Fire Department and a single father, Easton Kooper’s life revolves around his children. When he receives an urgent call from his son’s doctor, it upends Easton’s world. Suddenly, barreling into a burning building sounds like a piece of cake. With no idea of what to do or where to turn, he’s never felt more lost. And then in walks the answer he didn’t know he needed: a gorgeous fae with an angelic smile, bearing grand promises to turn the Kooper family’s life right side up again.
Finch knows the rules: don’t fall in love with a human. That’s always been simple enough to follow—at least until the Kooper family. Despite his best efforts, Finch grows attached to Easton and his children…attached enough that he’s tempted to turn his back on the fae and their laws completely.
Before long, the pair must brace themselves as both their worlds seek to destroy them. When the darkness crashes down, it’ll take every ounce of defiance and magic Finch has to keep the Koopers safe. Faced with immovable magic and unspeakable danger, is there really any way Finch and Easton’s love can prevail?
Fighting it is hopeless, but embracing it could mean ruin for them all.
Hurt Me Not is a standalone MM urban fantasy. Guaranteed HEA. No cliffhanger.
Original Review April Book of the Month 2024:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!! Davidson King has done it again!!! Hurt Me Not is a highly personal journey for the author, perhaps not the paranormal element but all the emotions the characters feel stem from personal experience. I'm not a parent but I have spent too much time at my mom's bedside, hospital and home, feeling the very same things: fear, worry, need to breakdown but not being able to, wanting to take their pain away but can't. It can really weigh on a person and seeing the author take those experiences and channel them into an amazing storytelling journey, well it's just very uplifting and gives one hope on a variety of levels.
So let's talk Hurt Me Not.
Easton is facing what no parent wants: a phone call from his son's doctor who has low lab numbers and more tests are needed. When the team has issues getting an IV placed for young Milo, Finch is called in as he has an unbelievable yet welcoming calming ability about him. My mom is a hard stick when it comes to IVs and have seen nurses of all kinds try and fail, unintentionally cause pain and be so gentle you didn't even know you got poked, so I understand Milo's fears and the relief Finch provides.
Speaking of Milo, he and his sibling, Tru(or Tru-Bug as daddy Easton says) are an absolute delight. Hurt Me Not may be Easton and Finch's journey but seeing the kids navigate the illness and all the emotions that go with it warms the heart. In fiction I find kids can be hard to balance between sugary sweet and spoiled brat but Davidson King does it beautifully.
You could say Hurt Me Not is a story told in two parts: the contemporary tale of Milo's illness and effects on family and the paranormal tale of Finch, his family, and the Fae. On the surface it seems like an odd pairing to mix but King balances both with an equal mix of realism and fantasy until they are two sides of the same coin. My heart bleeds and cheers for everyone, well not everyone, Finch has a few family members that are on the dark side of life😉. Not a single character is filler, they all have a purpose.
It's hard for me write this review without putting loads of personal emotions and experiences in so I'll just stop here and say that Hurt Me Not is brilliant. I can see why it was one of the hardest stories to date for the author to tell but I can also see why it was most likely the most rewarding and therapeutic. The Fae brings a fantasy element that only heightens the story. Put together Davidson King's storytelling expertise is chuck full of tears, cheers, and heat that guts you to the core and then heals the soul leaving an entertaining gem in it's wake.
Summary:
Fangs & Felons #1
Following rules is for pussy cats. And since I’m a wolf, not a chance in hell I’ll toe the line. Well, not when my boss is a prick and he gives me bullshit assignments.
When I stumble upon an undercover operation, one that becomes deeply personal and impossible to walk away from, I do something that leaves my head spinning.
I follow the rules.
Joining an elite squad in the SICB, I work with a unit that has me questioning everything I thought I knew about working in a team.
They’re tightknit, work under the radar, and kick arse on a daily basis.
There’s just one problem. The team leader, my new boss, needs my help, which also means he becomes my housemate.
Mesmerizing, confident, and with the greenest eyes that make my head spin, Liam “Thatch” Thatcher is a newly changed wolf shifter who immediately draws my respect.
It’s a dangerous combination.
Bonded by memories and blood, together we have to navigate the blood farm operation that has wider reaches than we could ever imagine. And when it comes to matters of the heart, to win, I need to risk it all.
Even if it goes against every one of my instincts.
Thicker Than Water is the first book in a MM urban fantasy romance series. Between the pages, you’ll find high-octane action, snarky vampires and shifters, and steamy scenes to make you swoon.
Summary:
Sons of Olympus #2
Hephaestus has never been interested in the petty squabbles of his family, but this time, it’s different. The titans have escaped Tartarus and are threatening not only his selfish siblings and cousins, but the very foundations of the world he calls his own.
Anteros has lived a sheltered life, doted on and protected by both of his fathers. But now, in the face of the threat the titans pose, he has to step up and help in the war effort. As the only god who has never betrayed Hephaestus, he’s sent to beg for the forge god’s aid in the coming conflict. Only Hephaestus isn’t what everyone told him. He’s talented and stern, yes, but also handsome and above all that, sweet, at least to Ant.
When Atlas comes to demand Hephaestus’s help on behalf of the titans, Heph is forced to make a choice: his abusive family, or the titans. Hephaestus is less worried about that choice than what it might lead to—will the titans punish sweet, innocent Anteros if he refuses them?
Summary:
Love at Blind Date #2
St. Patrick’s Day is for many things, but a blind date isn’t one of them…
Omega Richard is starting his first job after finishing his residency, and he’s determined to be the best doctor the clinic has ever had with the hopes of being given his own family practice. That means no more falling in and out of love with every man he dates. It means no dates. Work is his first priority. Full stop.
Even if he keeps running into an alpha who makes his heart pitter patter.
Even if each offer by his coworker to set him up is enticing.
Even if the loneliness is setting in.
Alpha Harry loves his job as a lawyer, but he wants more in life, a family and two-point-five kids. His uncle wants the same for him, constantly trying to set him up with the new eligible doctor at his work. Harry is reluctant. He’s already met an omega who caught his eye and captured his attention—twice. Maybe the next time he might say yes to that date.
Besides, who wants to be set up by their uncle?
Okay, maybe St. Patrick’s Day is for blind dates…
When Harry and Richard arrive for their date, they are expecting it to be a disaster. Who goes to a place serving green beer as a sign of romance anyways? Neither even suspects that their blind date would be the one who has already wormed their way into the other’s heart. If only they were both on the same page about where this date should lead.
Blind Date for St. Patrick's is a super sweet with knotty heat non-shifter M/M Mpreg Romance featuring a doctor working hard to make a place for himself, an alpha who knows what he wants and isn’t willing to settle, a nosy old man who won’t take no for an answer, a dog that wins your heart and might be just a tad bit spoiled, a fake relationship that somehow turns real, a groomzilla you may or may not want to smack, an unexpected pregnancy, a fear of garden gnomes, and all the sweetness and humor you expect from Lorelei M. Hart and Colbie Dunbar. It is the second book in a series of standalones featuring blind dates, true love, and adorable babies.
Original Review March 2024:
Guess what? Another holiday/seasonal series that I started in the middle. What is happening to me😉. I had intended to read Blind Date for St. Patrick's last year but the calendar had other plans but this year I made sure I was in charge and made the calendar agree😉.
Blind Date for St. Patrick's is very rom-commy omegaverse style and I loved every minute of it. There is just the right amount of drama to make this an all-around yummilicious read. Hard to imagine 2 smart men like Harry and Richard didn't see it coming but then again, timing can be the key to everything. Watching these two men navigate the dating world is full of humor that you can't help but find yourself squeaking out a giggle or two but It's also full of heart that turns those giggles into full-blown smiles.
I have read one Lorelei M Hart Xmas novella a few years back so not completely new-to-me author. Colbie Dunbar is a new-to-me author as well as the first collaboration between these two so with a little *footnote this will be filed under "New-to-me Authors". I definitely look forward to checking out other collaborations between the two as well as their individual backlists.
Monsters Hollow #0.75
Yuki
Accidentally summoning a sexy demon at work totally isn’t my fault. It’s because of that new addictive soap opera, The Young and the Monstrous, I tell you! They just had to introduce a new mega-hot demon character, so of course I needed to do some research! But my insatiable librarian curiosity has gotten me into hot water, because now I’m magically shackled to a demon who claims he’s my mate. That can’t be a real thing, right? It’s got to be some kind of demon trick...
Kassiel
Being summoned is every demon’s fantasy. Some wait centuries for the momentous occasion. At barely two hundred years of age, I get my lucky day! The Interdimensional Gong of Demonic Destiny rings for little ole me! Wooing Yuki should be a walk in the park, but my trusty seductive wiles aren’t working on my prickly mate—and the clock is ticking. I only have two weeks to convince him to accept our bond or it will be permanently severed. My work is cut out for me, but I’ll do whatever it takes to sneak into his heart.
The Demon and the Librarian: A Cozy M/M Monster Romance is a 30k novella in the Monsters Hollow universe featuring: a dapper demon dandy with a penchant for fine clothing, a far too curious librarian, a summoning involving dirty limericks, a holy water fail, food as the way to any being’s heart, forced proximity, fated mates, and an HEA ending. *Previously published in the Fated Mates MM Paranormal Romance charity anthology of 2023.
Random Paranormal Tales of 2024
Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12
Hurt Me Not by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
Easton Kooper
“Dad, I know you’re like a million years old, but—”
“I’m thirty-six, Tru, thirty-six. Your estimation is way off. I worry about what they’re teaching you in school.”
“Whatever, Dad. As I was saying. Can we listen to music that was created after the turn of the century?”
I looked in the rearview mirror, where my ten-year-old son, Milo, was playing one of his games, his eyes fixed on his tablet. The smirk on his face and the little glances he made at me was all I needed to know he was listening.
“I’m sorry, Tru, I can’t hear you…speak into my good ear.” I cupped my right ear, and she snorted…Milo giggled.
“Lame.” Tru’s eye rolls were legendary, and I couldn’t hold back my laughter.
At thirteen years old she was the spitting image of her mother, except she had green eyes. Milo and Tru both got those from me. But other than that, she was all her mom. She was tough as nails, stubborn, and brilliant like her too.
Milo was more like me. Same brown hair, identical smile, and loved more of a hands-on approach to life. Unless it was an update on one of his games.
Laura Kooper, my wife and the world’s best mother, died three years ago, throwing all our lives into a tailspin. The four of us became the three of us, and in one fell swoop I was drowning.
Fighting fires was what I knew. I was a good dad, but I hadn’t realized how many pies Laura had put her fingers in until she was gone and I was raising my children alone.
The first year had been a mess of tears, anger, and chaos. Slowly but surely, we’d found our way—a new way, but not a day went by that I didn’t miss Laura so much it hurt just to breathe.
“Oh thank God, school!” Tru unbuckled her belt, and I chuckled.
“I never thought I’d hear you utter those words. So what you’re saying is, all I need to do to get you not to give me a hard time about going to school is to throw on some amazing music?”
“It’s not amazing.” She opened the door, but I grabbed her arm.
“You’re amazing, Tru-bug.”
Another eye roll but I wrangled a grin too. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too.”
Once she was racing off, I looked at Milo. “Almost win the level?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, you’re the next drop-off. You have ten minutes.”
“The pressure!” he shouted, and I hit the gas.
At thirty-six I was one of the youngest lieutenants this firehouse had ever had. I’d worked my ass off to get here and loved every part of it. I’d operated both engine and ladder, but I was currently in charge of Ladder Truck 121.
Before Laura’s death, my shifts were twenty-four hours on followed by forty-eight hours off. It had meshed with Laura’s schedule. After she passed, I was able to change to ten-to-twelve-hour shifts for three or sometimes four days. I had my weekends, but holidays were tricky.
Fool’s Pass Fire Department, where we lived, was the main hub but a little less than half of the house fell into Red Root territory, so we often found ourselves helping in both places. It got busy some days, but that was fine. I had a lot of time with my kids this way.
A slap on my shoulder pulled me out of writing my report about a house fire on Gretchen Avenue where we’d rescued a fifty-three-year-old woman and her four cats.
“Why are Trish and I doing the book drive this weekend, East?” Jim Hastings was my closest friend on the job, but he also worked for me.
“Well, Jim.” I spun in my chair and smiled at the burly man who was more jolly than scary. “I specifically remember you and Trish saying to me around Christmas, ‘Please, if you let me and Trish out of being Santa and Mrs. Claus this year, we will be at your mercy.’ ”
“Well, shit.” Jim sighed and leaned against the wall in my office.
“I’m sure the two of you will have fun.” I waggled my brows and returned my attention to my report.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Without looking up, I answered. “It means I’m tired of you flirting with her horribly and getting nowhere. This way, you and she will be at that book drive all Saturday afternoon. Maybe you get to know her a little.”
“And here I thought dating within the same house was wrong.”
I shrugged. “I have no issue with it as long as it doesn’t interfere with your job, and Captain feels the same way.”
He was silent for a beat too long, so I peered over my shoulder. He was glaring at me.
“You think she’ll never go out with me, so you feel safe saying that.”
I burst out laughing, tossed my pen onto the papers, and faced him again. “Prove me wrong, Hastings.”
He opened his mouth to say something when my cell phone went off. A quick peek showed the pediatrician’s office.
“I gotta take this.”
“Later.”
“Hello?” I answered.
“Mr. Kooper?”
“Speaking.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kooper. This is Dr. Perry, Jennifer, calling from Fool’s Pass Pediatrics.”
“Hi, Dr. Perry, is everything okay? I didn’t receive a call from the school saying either of my kids were hurt.” Dr. Jennifer Perry was a friend of Laura’s and while we didn’t talk a lot anymore, she was good to the kids.
“Oh, heavens no, I’m sorry. I was calling about some blood test results that came back for Milo.”
He’d had his yearly physical two days ago and because he’d turned ten, they’d wanted to do a complete blood workup on him.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“Well, Easton, I was a little concerned by some of the counts for his platelets and white blood cells. Have you noticed or has Milo mentioned unexplained bruising, a rash that looks like small reddish pinpricks known as petechiae, or anything else abnormal?”
“No, nothing.”
“I’m hoping this is a lab error but in case it’s not, it’s best you take Milo to the emergency room. If it’s an error he will be sent home; if it’s not, he’ll be where he needs to be.”
“Jennifer.” I swallowed as my pulse thundered in my ears and sweat began to bead on my forehead.
“Yes, Easton?”
“What were the counts? How bad is it?”
“I really don’t want to—”
“I’m asking you to tell me.”
“Very well.” She sighed, but I didn’t believe it was out of frustration with me. I knew from being a first responder that you never wanted to say anything unless you were sure you were one hundred percent correct.
“Milo’s a ten-year-old boy, and for a healthy child of his age we’d see a platelet count between three hundred thousand and four hundred and eighty thousand. His count came back at twelve hundred.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Normal white blood cell counts are between five thousand and ten thousand. Milo’s are at six hundred.”
“Shit.”
“Easton. I know your brain is spiraling, and you’re scared. But like I said, let’s not put the cart before the horse. Errors happen. Can you get him to the emergency room?”
“Yeah, I’ll get him there.”
“I will be there, but I’ll call ahead and let them know that you’re on your way. Breathe, East. You’re worried; Milo will be confused and terrified.”
She was right. I knew she was.
“I’ll see you in a bit, Doctor.”
All I could think as I drove to get Milo from the library where he went after school was that I couldn’t lose my son. If the universe took another piece of my soul, I didn’t think I’d survive it.
“Please, don’t take my boy,” I whispered to whoever and whatever was out there, and hit the gas.
Thicker than Water by Becca Seymour
Heat rippled over my skin. The singed scent of hair clogged my ability to track the way out, leaving me momentarily cursing my stubbornness for going this alone. My boss would never let me live it down if I got myself charred to a crisp or killed. At least the latter would mean I wouldn’t have to listen to his pompous spiel about following protocol. The dick had it out for me. He had since I’d joined this team three years ago, and despite my success rate on missions, he hadn’t taken kindly to the son of the Blackheath alpha joining the Supernatural Investigation & Crime Bureau.
Creaking beams followed by the crash of timber had me blinking hard against the blackening smoke. There had to be a way out. While Brent, my division leader, thought I was foolhardy—or perhaps simply a fool—I had studied the schematics of the lab prior to entering. What I hadn’t planned for was Jonas Cartwright to set the damn thing on fire with me in it.
Focussed on pushing my senses beyond the sound of the licking fire and groaning foundations, I closed my eyes, hoping for a ripple, something, anything that would get me out of this situation. Two beats, three, four… but nothing. I could either stay planted, hoping a miracle would happen, or I could act. Neither seemed like a smart move but staying put and being roasted was not an option. The raw heat travelling up my arms, removing my hairs along the way, cried out for my retreat.
Action it was.
In barely a split second, my eyes shifted. While the heightened sight wouldn’t help with the smoke, the electricity had been tripped by the fire, and I needed all the help I could get.
I cursed up a storm in my head as I raced the way I’d come. With a leap over a toppled cabinet, a swerve away from the licks of fire trailing along workstation dividers, I swore the whole time I would find Cartwright and put him to ground once and for all. The way ahead was blocked, and no barrelling through would solve that. I screeched to a stop. “Shit.” I looked left and right, thinking hard about the drawings I’d glanced at ten seconds before entering the lab. Screw Brent and his demands for being well-prepared. I had no doubt my name, Callen, was already a regular curse from him. This would simply give him more ammunition. It was better than him seething my surname, Blackheath, I supposed, but still, ten seconds of my eyes roaming over the layout was as good as studying in my world.
Before I could figure out my next move, a small scrape of metal to my left had me turning in that direction. I seriously hoped I wasn’t racing towards more flames, but the sound was distinctive, controlled.
On reaching a hallway I didn’t recognise, I stumbled. “What the hell?” At the end of the darkened hallway was a glass door. While smoke spiralled through the space, it wasn’t as black, the fire not yet having reached the area. I crouched low to avoid the white smoke, my eyes focussed on the hand scratching against the glass door. Blood smeared with every gentle swipe, the movement slowing down.
No one was supposed to be here. Ignoring the fact that Cartwright had blown my half-arsed recon out of the window and taken me by surprise, there seriously shouldn’t have been anyone else on site. An unfamiliar edge of panic flared to life in my chest. This was not good.
I charged towards the glass, stopping short of barrelling into it to try the handle. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d broken down a door unnecessarily. I didn’t want to crash through a glass door unless I had to. While I healed quickly, shards of glass cutting through my skin still hurt something fierce.
Testing the handle with one hand, I hit the glass lower down, trying to get the attention of the person attempting to get out. Their bloody hand peeking out a white lab coat twitched at the loud thud. “Shit,” I grumbled. The door was locked. “Hey.” I beat against the glass panel harder. It was partially misted for privacy, and visibility was unclear. Unable to tell who was on the other side or whether the smoke had breached the room from another direction, for once, I considered my options.
“Hey.” I tried again, my hand smacking the glass harder, not yet intending to break through. “Can you hear me?” Steadying my breath took concentration, but I needed to listen carefully.
“Code.” The voice was gravelly. “P-Panel.”
I searched quickly and found a panel off to my right. “I need the code.” Each word came out calm and clear. Panicking now could possibly get us both killed.
“Five.” A cough wracked through him, loud and sounding painful. I squinted, wondering what the hell this guy had been through. “Two. Seven. Seven. Four. Nine.”
I hit the numbers as he said them.
“Hash,” he finished, and the door clicked, swinging open when the guy fell against it. He landed on the floor.
Unconscious at my feet, the man was sprawled on his front. I tugged him to the side. With no idea where we were, I couldn’t simply throw the guy over my shoulder and start charging around, hitting dead ends and burning doors wherever we went. Decision made, I cast a quick glance at the man. Wet blood covered his rich black skin, but his moving chest indicated he was breathing. Barely. Christ, I hoped he didn’t die on me. After a final glance, I rushed into the unlocked room. Just because it had been sealed from the inside didn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to get through another exit.
A door on the opposite side of the room was my target. I headed straight there, spotting vials and another room off to my right. Before I reached the exit, the scent hit me. Blood, and it wasn’t from the unconscious lab tech in the hallway. I took a tentative step in the direction the scent came from, bile already churning in my gut.
No. It couldn’t be.
Another step forward, and I held my breath, not wanting to believe it could be true.
Wide-eyed, I gasped for breath, then regretted the action immediately. Metallic, familiar, and dead. The combination of the three threatened to buckle my knees. Unable to look away, I stared hard, hating every second. But I had to do this. Flesh, torn muscle, mutilated claws; the image seared itself into my mind. Once there, a shockwave of pain ripped through me.
No.
This time I let my knees go and landed on the floor, my knee finding the blood the same shade of my own. It was her. Hazel. My baby sister.
Fireforged by Sam Burns & WM Fawkes
Chapter 1
ANTEROS
Poseidon was sitting in front of Anteros, because of course he was.
It wasn’t that Anteros didn’t love his father entirely, but the ocean god was protective to a ridiculous degree. He kept Anteros in his palace under the waves as often as possible, which for most of his life had been . . . well, most of his life.
His other father, Nerites, occasionally tried to blunt some of Poseidon’s wilder instincts. Locking Anteros in his room when company came to visit, for instance. Poseidon didn’t trust the Olympians. He trusted nymphs, and he trusted his family, but seemed well pleased to think everyone else could drown.
Now, even Nerites was sitting between Anteros and the other gods in the room. Especially a middle-aged golden man in a very nice modern suit, who looked more tired than wicked. He’d been silent since Anteros and his family had arrived, so he didn’t seem exceptionally threatening—except that Anteros thought he might be Zeus.
For the many years of his life, Ant had heard stories of his uncle. His unending lust, and unwillingness to hear the word no. His crassness and carelessness and every horrible story his fathers could relate. They had repeated some of the worst on their way to the meeting, reminding Anteros of how Zeus had once attacked and almost killed the youngest son of Hades, which was why the brothers had not spoken in over a millennium.
They were in a room together for the first time in many long years, and they were still not speaking. Not looking at each other. Hades was paying attention to the conversation. Adding his part to it, giving his opinions, and he seemed quite intelligent to Ant. He completely ignored Zeus, his eyes barely skimming over the king of the gods when he turned from Apollo on one side of him to Athena on the other.
Zeus? Zeus was staring at his hands.
No one had expected Hades to show up for the meeting, not even with the fate of the world hanging in the balance. Like Poseidon, it was common knowledge that nobody could get away with hurting one of Hades’s children without facing serious consequences.
Ant didn’t think Zeus’s distraction came from chagrin or, Olympus forbid, genuine contrition, though. There was something else happening in Zeus’s mind, and no one seemed to have any idea what that was. His favored children, Athena and Artemis, and to a lesser degree, Apollo, kept sending him nervous glances.
The black-clad woman sitting behind Hades—Melinoe?—smirked visibly whenever she glanced his way. Not necessarily because she knew what was going on any more than Anteros did, he told himself, but just as likely because she hated Zeus for once attacking her brother, just as much as Hades did, and it pleased her to see him so uncertain.
Anteros had never had an enemy, but he understood that seeing them brought low was supposed to bring one satisfaction.
Athena gave an angry noise that sounded like someone had stepped on a cat, and Anteros was brought out of his speculation and back into the conversation. “My school,” she stressed. “They attacked my school. My humans. Mine. I will not have primordial monsters attacking my children.”
“You could have called us,” Apollo offered. “We’d have taken care of it.”
She turned unimpressed eyes on him. “You. You’d have, what, shot him with arrows? Do you think I didn’t consider the futility of that?”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at Athena, as though he was trying to gauge whether it had been meant as a personal insult. Anteros didn’t think so. Athena didn’t seem to have cruel intentions at all, she simply . . . said precisely what she thought.
It was a little like Ant’s father, but he didn’t think she was doing it because it amused her to shock people with her bluntness. He suspected she didn’t even realize she was doing it. She was simply stating facts and unable to see that wasn’t how most people communicated. Or perhaps she knew, but wasn’t either able to or interested in emulating what was considered “normal” behavior.
Hermes, sitting at the opposite end of the table from his father with a giant pizza box in front of him—complete with a pizza that he’d been devouring, slice by slice, since the beginning of the meeting, took a swig from a soda bottle and let out a loud belch. “It was fine. Me and my asshole had it handled.”
The deadpan expression Athena shot him suggested that perhaps it hadn’t been as simple as he was suggesting, but he was right about one thing: it was over. Typhon was slain, and it had been the first battle in a greater war.
The titans had escaped Tartarus, and everyone at the meeting had an interest in seeing them returned to their prisons. Cronus himself, a creature so monstrous he’d eaten his own children, walked the earth once again.
The titans gained power by their very nature. They were beasts of primordial existence, storms and waves and poisons and things. Even the good elder beings, like Thanatos and Gaia, didn’t need the aid of humans to exist.
The gods? That was a different matter.
For two centuries, Anteros had been watching his fathers’ powers wane as the life in the oceans did. He’d heard stories about Aidos, the child of Prometheus who was slowly becoming insubstantial because so many humans no longer valued what she stood for.
Hermes did well in the modern world, as humans sent messages at a higher rate than ever, and every email and text was like a tiny prayer to the messenger god. Artemis had her vampires. Athena had her students. Ares had more war than anyone could want, even the god of war.
Anteros himself was not waning, and that gave him hope.
Of course it did, because he was hale and healthy, but also, because his domain was love. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Humans didn’t only worship at the altar of Ares, starting one war after another. They also loved, more than ever before. Yes, it was partially because there were so many of them, but as long as humans loved, Anteros would be able to find hope in the world.
It would be harder if his fathers died, though, and with the oceans as they were . . . well, it was best not to dwell on how nymphs had disappeared, one by one, for centuries. No good came from such dark thoughts.
The other man who’d been mostly silent through the meeting finally spoke up. “Someone needs to go to Hephaestus,” Ares announced. He said it like someone else might say, “Nice weather we’re having.”
Everyone at the table, including the previously unflappable Hermes, cringed. Well, maybe Hades didn’t, but he didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. Anteros supposed that when one had been eaten by their own father, not much else was frightening, even a giant brute with a hammer made for crushing skulls.
It was impossible to imagine a god as strong as Poseidon harming him, let alone trying to kill him. The only danger Anteros had ever faced from his fathers was accidental smothering.
Apollo sneered, his upper lip lifting all the way off his teeth in a decidedly unattractive expression on the shirtless golden god.
Why, Ant wondered, did he go about without a shirt? Anteros had always struggled with his wings and shirts. The great burdensome butterfly wings on his back were unwilling to hide away like lucky Eros, who could make his feathered wings disappear at will.
Yet another reason Anteros had been forced to hide from modern life. Humans did not go around with enormous butterfly wings on their backs.
Still, there was Apollo, who could wear a shirt like a normal person and wander the world as he liked, but he chose to set himself apart. It made no sense.
For a long time, the table was silent.
Finally, Ares sighed and stood.
“Sit down,” Hades immediately ordered, waving him back into his seat. “You’re the last person he would want to see.”
“I agree.” Ares met his eye, not a flinch at being told that his own brother wouldn’t want to see him. Then he glanced over at Zeus. “Well, maybe not the last, but near enough. If no one else is going to do it, I will.”
“Of course you’d do anything for a war,” Apollo sneered again. Still?
In that moment, Ares looked . . . exhausted. Like maybe the last thing in the world that he wanted was a war. He sighed. “War isn’t about want. It’s about need. This one is no different. Cronus would kill us all, and it wouldn’t cause him a moment’s grief. We need to defend ourselves, and that includes Hephaestus. Cronus won’t spare him simply because he hates us, whether his reasons for that hate are excellent or not.”
Artemis lifted a brow at him. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”
Ares clenched his jaw, letting his body fall back against the plush crimson chair. None of the tension went out of his body, and Anteros wondered if it ever did. If he ever truly rested.
Instead of answering Artemis, Ares looked to Hades. “I know I’m no one he wants to see, but I’d see him safe.”
“So you’re not asking him to make you weapons?” Hermes was sly and knowing as he stared at Ares, but the war god barely spared him a glance before turning back to Hades.
“The problem isn’t just me,” Ares said, calm and reasonable. “It’s that we’ve all wronged him, in every way. Even Aphrodite going to him now would be transparent, and he puts up with her better than most of us.”
Anteros had never actually seen Ares before, but it was strange. The way others had spoken of him, he’d expected a barely coherent rage monster, salivating at the idea of another fight to be had. A wild fanatic with bloodlust in his eyes. Instead, he looked old and tired, despite his ambrosia-given youth and Hebe hovering around him, offering him more like some kind of special treat for showing up at all.
Far from Hermes’s presumption of dishonorable intentions, Hades nodded in agreement with Ares. “He has good reason to mistrust most of us. Even those he counts as allies going to him now would be self-serving, and he has little reason to love the gods.”
“You gave him a place to stay when no one else wanted him around,” Apollo pointed out. “He should be grateful.”
A chill ran down Anteros’s spine at the positively icy look Hades shot the golden god. “He owes me nothing. To suggest that he be grateful for the bare minimum of hospitality I offered him is an insult to both of us.” He sat back in his own chair, looking over first Apollo, then for the first time, Zeus, and back. “I would have offered the same to any of my nephews who found himself in need of sanctuary.”
Again, the room fell into an awkward silence. It had happened a dozen or more times since the beginning of the meeting. Every time someone mentioned a person who hadn’t come. Hera, because she’d tried to overthrow Zeus. Demeter, not because she’d tried to overthrow Zeus, which she had, but because she hadn’t given a single damn about what any god was doing. It happened every time someone asked Zeus for an answer, and he just listlessly stared into space, or gave a half-answer that answered nothing.
Every time someone looked to Hades for answers instead, because in the absence of the king of the gods, Hades was the highest-ranking person there. No one liked that, least of all Hades.
Well, maybe least of all Apollo, who resented not being his father’s heir apparent.
A resonant voice sounded from the doorway, brassy and amused. “I’d pretend offense that you started without me, but we all know I’d rather make love than war.” Aphrodite leaned forward a few inches, as though to impart a secret on all of them, smiling like the cat who got the cream. “But no one wants to fuck Cronus, so here I am.”
Hermes cackled. Anteros’s fathers laughed. Even Ares gave a choked chuckle before covering it up. Hades offered an indulgent smile, as though Aphrodite were one of his daughters.
She swept into the room like a queen, seating herself next to Ares and offering him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Anteros thought their affair had ended many years before, but somehow Aphrodite managed to remain friendly with almost all of the people she slept with.
It seemed a good goal to him.
“Ares is right, of course,” she told them all, waving a hand in the air as though she could dismiss the seriousness of the issue. “So no one who has ever hurt him can go, whether the offense was intentional or otherwise. No one he sees as an authority figure, since he rather understandably has issues with those.”
Her eyes swept across the gathered Olympians and paused on Anteros’s father.
“Absolutely not,” Poseidon told her, sliding forward in his chair and meeting her eye. “No. Not under any circumstances.”
What the heck did that mean? Was she asking Poseidon to go? Anteros had always seen him as something of an authority figure, but then, he was Ant’s father, so of course he did.
Aphrodite didn’t jump to defend her comment, simply draped herself perfectly across her chair, wrapping one arm over the back of Ares’s chair beside her. Then she turned to look Hermes over and smiled at him. “Love agrees with you, trouble.”
Hermes looked away, but he was smiling, and Anteros could feel the tiny flare of power from him. From his own requited love. “Dunno what you’re talking about. I’m only around for the brownies.”
She snorted and turned back to meet Poseidon’s eye. It was impressive, since he, Ares, and maybe Zeus were the only men in the room taller than she was. Anteros, as always, was envious of such stature. He was ridiculous and tiny, the son of a nymph. The eternal sea twink, Hebe had once called him, much to everyone’s amusement.
“Ask Ares and Athena if you don’t believe me.” Aphrodite carded her long brown fingers through Ares’s hair almost thoughtlessly. “Without Hephaestus, we lose this war.”
“Then you go—” Poseidon started, but Nerites put a hand on his to quiet him.
“I can go,” he suggested, and it gave Anteros heart palpitations. His father, putting himself in harm’s way? That was unacceptable.
Poseidon seemed to agree, because he started to open his mouth again, but Aphrodite cut him off. “No offense, sweetheart, I’d do whatever you asked of me, but it wouldn’t work. You’ve been Poseidon’s creature for too long. He knows your face. Knows who you’re working for, and what you want.”
“How is Ant any different?” Nerites asked, his jaw set and chin upturned, and that was the moment the bottom dropped out.
That was what she meant. No one who had wronged Hephaestus, and no authority figures.
She meant to send Anteros to recruit Hephaestus into the new war with the titans.
Blind Date for St. Patrick's Day by Lorelei M Hart & Colbie Dunbar
1
Richard
“Relax, you’re doing great, Rich.” Enrique, the office manager of the medical clinic came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He’d made me feel welcome when I first walked through the door three months ago and had become the closest thing I had to family in this town. “It was crazy busy too, with the strep running amok in the schools.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d given more strep tests and scripts for amoxicillin in my first solo shift than I had the past few months combined. At least it was one of the easy-to-diagnose things. I’d spent the night before thinking of all the illnesses and injuries that might come in that I was in no way prepared for.
Because that would help absolutely nothing.
“Thanks.” I wanted to say so much more. Enrique helped slow the flow when things got hectic, fixed paperwork I botched without a complaint, and put out any fires that started along the way. I’d heard such horror stories of the “office manager” type medical clinic set-up and almost didn’t consider this position, and then they dangled the carrot, the one I just couldn’t resist; prove yourself in urgent care and you will be given first consideration for your own family practice when an office opens up.
Which was a great deal more than the other places that even considered me. No one ever said it out loud, but being an omega had them seeing paternity leave and logistic nightmares for most places I looked into.
“You should take a shower and go grab a nice dinner and then sleep for a week.” Both of those things sounded fanfreakingtastic. I’d skipped lunch trying not to let the wait times get too far ahead of me, and I was ready to eat my arm. Maybe not my arm, I needed it, but even the protein bars my coworker left in the shared office were looking like food, and from the one time I’d eaten them, I knew that not to be the case.
“I work tomorrow,” I reminded Enrique. I could still get a decent sleep, but sleeping in wasn’t going to happen.
“Okay, not a week, but get some sleep, or better yet...find a nice alpha and go out and have a good time.” And here we were back on this train. Enrique—dear, sweet, efficient, and helpful Enrique—saw his happy life with his hubby as what everyone should aspire to. Which would’ve been fine if his mentioning it didn’t hit me in the gut. I wanted that too, more than anything. Watching my roommate back home fall in love and start a family already had me on that track.
The problem remained; I was quick to fall in love, but it never stuck. Turned out I was in love with the idea of falling in love, and honestly, my career needed to come before that bullshit. This was my chance not to work in a hospital and make a practice for myself. I wasn’t going to bung it up by dating.
“Sleep’s the plan. I’m still figuring out all this.” I swished my hands indicating the office. It was bustling, but two doctors came in to take my place for the evening shift which was usually the crazy one thanks to the closing of most family practices for the day. “Dating is going to wait.”
“Sacrificing your happiness for work is never a good plan.” Why did the older man have to make so much sense? Still, this came first. So many of the people I graduated with were floundering since completing their residencies, choosing positions they didn’t want simply because it was better than nothing. I wasn’t going to blow this opportunity.
“Dating doesn’t equal happiness either.” At least not in my experience, not at the end, anyways. And I tried the no-strings thing and discovered I sucked at it. I either left wanting more than they could give or wasn’t interested, period. No, casual was not my friend.
“But a balance between home and work does, and right now you just have work.” He tsked his finger.
“Because I have to find my place here.” And play all my cards right so I could slide into one of the practices rumored to be opening up in the next couple of years thanks to a proposed expansion plan.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if exasperated. “Just think about what I said. All work and no play makes Dick a lonely boy.”
Gods, I hated that abbreviation of my name, especially said like that by someone who I regarded as a father figure.
“Ewwww...just ewww.”
“You’re welcome.” He stepped back. “Now scram. You had a long day, and tomorrow will probably be just as bad.” If the incoming stream of people was any indication, he was spot on. “They need to send a case of disinfectant to that school, I tell you,” he half-teased.
“Possibly a pallet of it.” I took off my doctor coat and hung it on my hook. “Night, Enrique.”
I gathered my things and ordered take-away instead of going out to eat. I just wanted to be home and in my own bed. The next day I had an extra-long shift, and thanks to Dr. Tyler being on a cruise, I was going to go without a day off for the next while. Worth it, if it meant I could realize my dreams.
Pulling into the driveway of the small bungalow I managed to get for far below market value, I saw what looked like an animal scurry under the porch. Great. Looked like I needed to fix that hole where the lattice lost a crossbar sooner rather than later. The last thing I wanted was a family of skunks or the like nesting under there.
I brought my food inside, put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed out to the garage for my tools and to see if I had anything that could temporarily close the hole and buying some time for the creature I spooked under there to leave before I got back out there.
The family who sold me the home had wanted to dump it quickly after they lost their grandmother who had lived there for over fifty years, and they left a lot of junk pretty much everywhere, much of it surprisingly useful, including the scrap board I was able to dig out for the lattice repair.
I turned on the flashlight app on my phone as I made my way to the hole, crossing my fingers the creature was gone or at the very least not a skunk or some rabid opossum or any of the other things my imagination was currently conjuring up. Setting down the board, nails, and hammer, I got on my knees a distance from the fence and flashed the light to see two little eyes glaring back at me, two eyes belonging to a cat.
“Here, kitty kitty,” I clucked my tongue and held out my hand, and to my surprise, he came out. And even more to my surprise, the cat wasn’t a cat at all; it was a small, very scrawny and matty dog. Poor thing.
He came right over and plopped himself in front of me, his chin on my knees, looking up at me with sad little eyes.
“Let’s see who you belong to, little fellow. Maybe I can get you back to your family.” I tentatively reached over and rotated his collar, finding a bone-shaped If Found tag, and as I flipped it over, my heart stopped...the address was mine. “Let’s get you some water and see if there are any vets open tonight, little fellow.”
It turned out the little fellow was Sophia, and she belonged to the previous owner, and by the time I went to bed that evening, I was the new human of the mysterious Miss Sophia, who had been on a wild adventure, the details of which she wasn’t giving up.
See, Enrique, I’m not alone.
Except even with my new furry companion, I very much was.
The Demon and the Librarian by Chloe Archer
Chapter One
Building Interspecies Tolerance, Connections, and Hope (BITCH): An Otherkind and Human Relations Forum
Discussion Thread—Demons
MasterLibrarian: So, hypothetically speaking, how would one send back a demon one has accidentally summoned?
FeistyFurDaddy: Uh-oh. You’re in trouble, bro.
MasterLibrarian: NOT helping.
FeistyFurDaddy: I don’t know a lot about demons but they’re tricky bastards to get rid of if they’ve set their sights on you.
MoonMistress: You do realize that “summoning” a demon isn’t anything like human cultures imagine, right?
FeistyFurDaddy: Doesn’t summoning a demon mean you’re their mate? *wide eyes emoji*
MasterLibrarian: Motherfucking balls.
MoonMistress: FFD is right. Only a mate can summon a demon to their realm—usually by discovering an object magically bonded to the demon that has been seeking them across different dimensions. It’s so romantic!
MasterLibrarian: Like a magical fucking mate detector or something?
FeistyFurDaddy: Winner, winner, chicken dinner!
MasterLibrarian: Son of a bitch! *facepalm* So it’s true. I thought it was just a line to get in my pants.
FeistyFurDaddy: Holy shit! You ACTUALLY summoned a demon and you’re their mate? I thought you were just fantasizing about Xavier on The Young and the Monstrous again. Damn. This is epic!
MasterLibrarian: Do not talk smack about the best soap opera EVER!
FeistyFurDaddy: Hell no, man. I love the show too. I’ve heard they’re going to be adding a rougarou character soon and I’m so damn stoked!
MasterLibrarian: This demon I’ve summoned is the real deal. And no, it is NOT epic. Um…is there any way I can send him back to his dimension?
MoonMistress: Oh my! This is getting quite complicated.
YUKI
Glancing around guiltily, but still finding myself alone, I open my laptop and pull up the most recent episode of my latest obsession, The Young and the Monstrous, a brand-new daytime soap opera with a predominantly Otherkind cast. It's the first show of its kind to air on television and I can’t get enough of it.
Like most soap operas, it’s campy, melodramatic, and over-the-top in all the best ways possible. Everyone here in town is addicted to the show, eagerly waiting for each new episode to drop. It’s the hot topic of conversation everywhere I go lately.
Hotbeing the key word here.
The show’s producers were fucking brilliant when they decided to cast some of the sexiest Otherkind characters I’ve ever seen on the show. There’s the brooding hunkalicious gargoyle, Gareth; the majorly ripped orc always looking for a fight, Dyrk; the studly minotaur wooing several female characters at the same time, Naebon; the gorgeous gorgon with a tortured past, Raphael; and now—the newest addition to the cast—the sexy-as-fuck demon doctor, Xavier. Ever since he came on screen for the first time, I’ve had hot demons on the brain!
Munching on some senbei–aka Japanese rice cracker snacks, aka my favorite–I watch the episode on my laptop, eyes glued to the screen. The latest storyline centers around the mysterious Xavier, who arrived in the show’s fictional town a few episodes ago and promptly started causing a boatload of mischief behind the scenes. So far, he’s sort of a Trickster-esque villain, but one I wouldn’t mind seducing me for a night!
I know I shouldn’t be indulging in my guilty pleasure at work, but it's almost midnight on a Friday night, and Mystic Hollow’s brand-new night school library is deader than disco. Not exactly surprising, since most students have far better things to do on a Friday evening than studying in the library. Granted, we haven’t enrolled a huge number of students yet since we’ve only been open for a week. Aimed at all ages of Otherkind in town, the night school is similar to a community college and was created to meet the varied educational needs of those nocturnal species unable to attend during traditional school times. Our dean, in coordination with the town’s mayor, is actively working to recruit new town residents with the lure of two-year degree programs, professional training certificate courses, and continuing education classes that can all be taken at night.
I've only been in town two weeks myself, newly hired as one of three librarians in this brand-new facility. As I quickly discovered, I'm also one of only a handful of humans residing in Mystic Hollow—a real-life Sanctuary town that is a magically protected safe space for non-humans.
I’d never lived in a place like this before, but when the job opening listed, I jumped at the opportunity. A night owl by nature, I've always felt more comfortable in jobs that allow me to work late hours. Besides, as a freshly minted librarian with my master’s degree in library science, I’d been keen to find a position almost anywhere. In our current economic climate, and with constant funding cuts to education and colleges and universities slashing their library budgets, librarian positions are few and far between these days. Fuck you very much, politicians and crappy administrators!
No matter how desperate most human librarians are to find a position, few were vying for this opening in “Monsters Hollow,” as it’s often referred to by the outside world. As a queer, half-Japanese man with a love of cosplay, comic books, and board games, I understand what it’s like to be treated as different. Honestly, I've never been scared of Otherkind. In fact, I’ve always found them to be far less terrifying than my fellow humans.
Some of them are even seriously sexy in my book.
Case in point—the mega-hot demon on The Young and the Monstrous who has taken off his shirt at least three times–praise the network gods!—by the time the show ends on yet another cliffhanger. I’m left wondering if Xavier is going to seduce half the town in his first week there.
Are all demons major horndogs or what?
The question niggles at my mind, needing to be answered. Tired of twiddling my thumbs at the reference desk while waiting for non-existent students in need of my expert assistance, I look around the empty library and decide it's time for me to do what I do best—research.
When it comes to the quest for knowledge, a librarian can never resist the lure of the stacks. I’m no exception.
I can't let this go, no matter how I try. I need answers. Damn Xavier and his super-hot demon bod for infiltrating my psyche!
Although I took a class on Otherkind species in university, it was purely introductory and only touched on the dozens of different beings. As a result, I don't know very much about demons, only that they're nothing like human religious traditions have imagined. They aren’t former angels banished to hell with Satan. Nor are they inherently evil. Rather, they’re an Otherkind species from another dimension. They can travel between realms with ease and sometimes like to visit this world.
Now, though, I need all the information I can find on them. Trust me, I’ll never be satisfied until I have a thick stack of books in my hot little hand!
In the comfortable silence of the library, I stroll down the neatly shelved stacks, letting that favorite of researchers everywhere, the Library of Congress Classification System, be my guide to any books we might have on demons and demonology. There’s a reassuring peace in the tidily organized rows of shelves I pass. And the smell! Nothing beats the aroma of books, from old, dusty tomes to crisp, newly printed texts. I love them all.
When I get to the appropriate shelf, I begin scanning the titles: Demons Didn't Do It! A Defense of a Misunderstood Species; Demons vs. Djinn: A History of Interspecies Feuds, Follies, and Fisticuffs; Down and Dirty with Demons: A Beginner’s Guide to Demon Sexual Behaviors. I snort in amusement at that last one but make a mental note to come back to it.
I pause, however, when I come to a book without a title on its spine and missing a label for cataloging purposes. It’s haphazardly shelved and out of place and immediately sparks my interest—and frankly, annoyance. How did an uncatalogued book end up shelved in my library?
I reach up and grip the spine.
The instant my hand makes contact, an electric spark races through my fingertips and up my arm, nearly making my hair stand on end like I’m a Super Saiyan in one of my old-school anime faves, Dragonball Z.
Part of me is screaming to let the book go and back the fuck away. I should wait until one of my magically inclined colleagues can examine this properly. Although it’s unlikely to be dangerous—the magic guarding this town surely wouldn’t have let someone with evil intentions bring this in, right?—the book is definitely suspicious.
For several heartbeats, I stare at the mysterious text, unable to let go. My insatiable curiosity mounts and with a snarl of irritation, I pull it down, my fingers still tingling from the obvious magic it possesses. Almost consumed by intrigue, I stare at the slim volume in my hand. It’s bound in some kind of black leather-like material that appears quite old and dusty, but durable. There’s some obvious wear and tear to the cover’s edges, but otherwise the spine is intact and it looks in good condition.
Opening it carefully, I find the first page blank. No title, nothing.
“Odd,” I murmur to myself with a frown.
Maybe it’s some kind of unused journal that got lost?
I flip to the next page and hit pay dirt. Here, written in the graceful penmanship of a bygone era, I find an unusual inscription:
Dearest reader,
If you have stumbled across this book, then it is indeed your most fortuitous destiny! To learn more about the tantalizing secrets this book contains, you will need to read each word aloud before the next is revealed to you. Don’t stop or you’ll miss out! Be sure to read until you get to the very end. Your perseverance will be rewarded handsomely, I assure you. I hope you enjoy this magical little moment that only you will get to experience. After all, you, and you alone, were meant to find this book!
Yours,
A Dashing and Desirable Demon
What. The. Fuck.
On the one hand, this sounds beyond ridiculous. Like someone’s bad idea of a joke.
I glance around me, the silence of the library still a reassuring indicator that I’m all by myself. I don’t think any of my co-workers are trying to punk me, but I haven’t exactly made my fixation on The Young and Monstrous a secret.
On the other hand, the inscription in the book has piqued my interest and I can’t not follow the instructions now. I simply have to know what happens at the end.
It’s the same fucking reason I can never DNF books. I always have to finish them even if I don’t want to.
Damn the cheeky fucker who wrote this book! It’s as if they knew I couldn’t resist a puzzle like this. Have they been stalking me? Did they plant this just for me to find on a night when I’m all alone in the library? Another warning bell goes off in the back of my brain.
No, I’m being paranoid. I barely know anyone in this town yet!
Nevertheless, I should probably wait until one of my colleagues arrives in the morning before I do anything. This book clearly contains some kind of spell that I have to read aloud, which is never something to mess with—especially when you’re a human with no understanding of such things whatsoever.
Yes.
Waiting would be wise.
What the book contains can’t possibly be that exciting or interesting.
Right?
The burning need to uncover the book’s secrets blows away every single one of my responsible thoughts and good intentions.
Cheerfully tossing my internal pep talk of rationality out the window, I turn the page and slowly begin to read aloud each word as they materialize on the page in front of me.
I instantly question my life choices.
There once was a demon so hot,
Everyone he wanted, he got.
With a thrust of his hips
And a nip of his lips,
Of lovers he fucked quite a lot.
I gape at quite possibly the lamest dirty limerick I’ve ever encountered. This book may possess magic, but its author was no wordsmith. Despite my better judgment, I continue. I’m in this now and there’s no turning back.
The subject of demon mates is quite thorny,
Especially since we are always so horny.
But never you fear,
My epic self is almost here,
To make you super-hot and ready for me!
My mouth twitches in amusement and I snort. Who the fuck wrote this drivel? But I can’t stop reading. The rhyming is amusing in a crass kind of way, and I want to see what else they come up with.
By now you’re probably feeling quite needy,
So I’ll make the rest of this speedy.
Call forth my name and you’ll be in luck
Because I’ll show up, ready to fuck,
And soon you’ll scream my name—Kassiel the Greedy!
As the last ridiculous word slips off my tongue, the odd little book warms in my hand and starts to vibrate.
“What the fu—” I start to say, the words dying on my lips when an interdimensional portal begins to open a few feet away from me, the magic circle growing and widening until I can see a silhouette on the other side.
Holy fucknuggets. What the hell have I done?
While on some level I realize I should do something about this situation I’ve gotten myself into, I simply stand and gawk like a fool. That warning signal going off in my brain is now a fire-alarm bell blaring with all its might, but it’s entirely too late for me to heed it as a tall and extremely dapper-looking demon who makes Xavier seem ordinary steps through the portal and into my library.
Hot. Motherfucking. Damn.
Apparently, all demons are unfairly gorgeous.
He’s dressed in a black, finely tailored suit that gleams in the light like satin. It fits his powerful body like a glove. A white, ruffled dress shirt from another era—or perhaps I should say dimension—complete with a crimson-colored brocade waistcoat, and a pair of elegant red wingtip shoes round out the look. The demon’s long, dark hair falls well past his shoulders in thick, silky strands, and his gold-colored eyes are framed by lush, sooty lashes that would have made silent cinema legend Rudolph Valentino weep with envy. His complexion is a warm, caramel color and his face is a surprising but sexy mix of high, angular cheekbones and a hard, square jawline, combined with plush, biteable red lips and large, doe-like eyes that look naturally rimmed with kohl.
When he grins, I detect a hint of fang that makes me gulp while my traitorous cock decides to perk up in my jeans.
Not good! Not good!
The demon strolls toward me with a look of burning purpose in his otherworldly eyes.
I swallow again and begin backing away.
The demon seems to like that because his grin grows wider.
Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck!
I notice that he’s using, with an insouciant flair, a rather debonair cane as he prowls after me, in a way that suggests it’s more of a fashion accessory than an ambulatory necessity. All he’s missing is a damn top hat. Then he’d well and truly be the epitome of a demon dandy.
Oscar Wilde, eat your heart out!
Although I suspect the impressive black, ram-like horns on his head might make wearing a top hat rather challenging.
The thought surprises a nervous laugh from my lips before I stumble against a wall, realizing too late that I’ve backed up as far as I can go.
The dashing demon crowds in close, leaning down to sniff me like a weirdo. When he pulls back, his gold eyes seem to spark like the embers of a banked fire kindled to life again. “I should have known my mate would be such an utterly delectable morsel.”
His voice is deep and resonant but also surprisingly posh and British. Is that a thing with demons? I must check with my forum friends. Honestly, deep down, I think I expected him to sound more Cockney, like Crowley on Supernatural. Between the voice and the clothes, this demon could be a damn aristocrat.
It should annoy me, but fucking hell, it turns me on.
Wait.
What??
“Mate? The fuck you say?”
He licks his tempting lips. “Darling, I am your mate, Kassiel. Enchanté.”
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.
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.
Becca SeymourBecca Seymour is the #1 gay romance best seller of the True-Blue series. Known for “steamy and endearing” and “emotionally profound love stories” (InD’tale Magazine) her books have been nominated for multiple RONE Awards.
Becca lives and breathes all things book related. Usually with at least three books being read and two WiPs being written at the same time, Becca’s life is merrily hectic. She tends to do nothing by halves so happily seeks the craziness and busyness life offers.
Living on her small property in Queensland with her human family as well as her animal family of cows, chooks, and dogs, Becca appreciates the beauty of the world around her and is a believer that love truly is love.
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.
Lorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming. Friends for years, the duo decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).
My characters are sexy, hot, adorable—and often filthy—alphas and omegas. Feudal lords with dark secrets, lonely omegas running away from their past, and alphas who refuse to commit.
Lurking in the background are kings, mafia dons, undercover agents and highwaymen with a naughty gleam in their eye.
As for me? I dictate my steamy stories with a glass of champagne in one hand. Because why not?
Chloe Archer currently calls the arctic wilds of Minnesota home but has spent much of her life abroad in places like Montreal, Edinburgh, and Tokyo. One day she hopes to live somewhere sunny and warm. She loves to travel, eat spicy food, and geek out about her fandoms. In her spare time (Ha! What’s that?) she’s an avid reader with far too many books and not enough bookcases, a wannabe tea and coffee connoisseur, and a karaoke fanatic. When she’s not making herself laugh out loud while writing adorkable gay rom-coms, she can be found walking her two Yorkies (Teddy and Jasper,) trying to finish that blanket she’s been knitting for five years or spending time with friends and family.
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Becca Seymour
Sam Burns
EMAIL: sam@burnswrites.com
Lorelei M Hart
EMAIL: Lorelei@mpregwithhart.com
Hurt Me Not by Davidson King
Thicker than Water by Becca Seymour
Fireforged by Sam Burns & WM Fawkes
The Demon and the Librarian by Chloe Archer
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