Summary:
ExorSquad
Haunting #442: SoulCycle Spin Studio
Number of ghosts: A boogie bunch of phantom disco divas
Location: West End, London
History: Former site of an underground gay nightclub from the 70s. It burned down in an unsolved arson incident and killed a number of men who got trapped in the club.
Wanted: Immediate ghost removal. Customers can’t handle the flickering lights, ectoplasm facials, or ABBA and the BeeGees playing on repeat while they’re trying to work out.
The ExorSquad Team: Callum Fraser, former Detective Inspector turned ghost hunter. Visiting American paranormal podcaster, Beau Montgomery.
Additional Notes: Apparitions spotted in studio mirrors. Flying objects and ectoplasm. All exercise music that is played switches over to disco classics. Instances of temporary possession reported—customers made to do The Bump and The Hustle. Phantom strobe lights and illuminated floors have begun to manifest. A disco ball hanging from the ceiling keeps reappearing no matter how many times it is removed. Notable increase in paranormal activity signals growing danger. Be careful!
Glitter. Ghosts. One grump, one sunshine—and a haunting that might just spark a love story.
Callum Fraser
From Detective Inspector to ghost hunter—how did my life go this spectacularly wrong?
The supernatural upended my world, and after some highly questionable training from ExorSquad Ltd., I’m chasing ghosts instead of criminals. My latest case? A haunted spin studio and a gaggle of disco-loving spirits from the 70s.
Enter chaos in the form of Beau Montgomery.
An absurdly cheerful American in suspenders and a bowtie who insists on calling me “big fella.” Beau’s all glitter, warmth, and a smile sweeter than sin. I prefer order, control, and silence, but somehow he manages to dazzle and confound me in equal measure.
Meanwhile, our ghosts are upping their paranormal antics—and if we can’t help them move on soon, their funky little afterlife party might turn dangerous.
Beau Montgomery
My plan? Come to England for a paranormal pilgrimage and research trip for my podcast. Not in the plan? Meeting Callum Fraser—tall, brooding, and grumpy enough to sour a glass of lemonade. Back home in Mobile, Alabama, when someone blows into your life like a tornado, folks just call it fate.
We’ve got some sassy spirits to help get their eternal happily ever afters ASAP, but I’m laying on the charm while we work. Who says I can’t multitask? Wooing my grumpy, guarded Scotsman isn’t about to take a backseat.
A Southern gentleman doesn’t go down without a fight… and I sure as hell will prove it. If we want our very own HEA, we have to wrap up the case and figure out how to keep our spark alive across the Atlantic. Otherwise, our chance at love may turn (un)deader than disco.
The ExorSquad Series is a collection of standalone MM romcoms centred around the unfortunate employees of ExorSquad Ltd, the UK's shadiest ghost-busting operation. Expect supernatural shenanigans, things that go bump in the night, sizzling encounters, and hard-won happy-ever-afters.
Summary:
For Sam, every moment counts. Life is precious and finite. He’s grateful for every second and hasn’t taken anything for granted for the past five years. With his two best friends, lovable cat, and his bucket list, he’s determined to value every experience and all the people around him. Even the grumpy new town resident who Sam can’t leave alone, no matter how many times the handsome man tells him to.
Lukas is a vampire exhausted with humanity, bored with everything, and wishing the council would put him out of his misery. Instead, they gave him orders that had him moving to a small town with a lot of nosy people. His love of ice cream is the only reason he begrudgingly deals with humans—one of whom in particular he can’t seem to shake.
Together, Sam and Lukas awaken parts of themselves they never knew existed. With each passing day, Lukas unknowingly helps Sam cross something off his bucket list. But just when life seems perfect, it comes crashing down.
For the first time, Lukas wants forever so he can spend it with Sam, only to hit roadblocks at every turn. Sam has come to terms with his fate. Born on the edge of goodbye, the only thing Sam isn’t prepared for is falling in love and the possibility of leaving it all behind.
The Edge of Goodbye is a standalone M/M paranormal romance with a strong HEA and no cliffhanger
I'm going to start off by saying, Davidson King has done it again. Such an emotional and powerful journey. Next, I'm going to get a little personal here, The Edge of Goodbye is amazing but I'll be honest, I should not have read this right now. On January 13th, it'll be a year since my mother passed away and reading hasn't held the same pull for me this year as it usually does but that isn't why I should have waited. The reasons behind Sam's journey(I won't spoil it for anyone so I won't mention specifics) may be different than my mother's but I could see so many elements that resonated in our daily lives. There came a point where I just broke down completely and that was when I knew I should have set this aside before beginning. I won't say it broke me but it probably was as close as anything has in 2025 AND YET I couldn't stop. I'm not a DNF reader, I've been known to set a book aside for multiple reasons but I always come back and finish it but I just couldn't do that with Goodbye. The heartache was worth it and frankly, that probably speaks louder volumes about how amazing this story is than anything I can come up with. I have no triggers when it comes to reading and watching but if I did, this probably would have been one of them, so be sure you're prepared for the heart hurting before the heartwarming. Truth is, the tears Sam's journey brought to the surface probably helped more than they seemed at the time and for that, I say, Thank You, Davidson King, you didn't heal my heart but you helped fill a notch.
Okay, now to the story.
As I said above, I won't spoil anything but I'll mention a little. Sam might rub a few the wrong way, he can be a bit overwhelming and borderline pushy but I get why he's that way. As an introvert, I don't think I could be that way in his situation but I applaud his fight and determination to enjoy every second of life. On the other side, Lukas comes across as grumpy and borderline(maybe not so borderline at first) rude but I can also understand why he is that way too. Being able to make the reader see both sides of the personality ruler is just another example of King's storytelling and world building talent.
As a paranormal lover, I've read many ways authors have created their own vampire lore. I loved how King uses the Hollywood folklore we all associate with vampires to build her own. I can honestly say, Lukas' love of ice cream is one I can see myself partaking in if I was a vampire too. Again, I won't spoil the lore she created so you'll have to read it for yourself to see if you would agree with Lukas or not.
This might have the smallest supporting cast of any of King's works but each played a part, none were a page filler, and they all helped paint a picture that was believable(which in a paranormal genre sounds an odd thing to say but no less true).
Don't let my initial paragraph scare you, The Edge of Goodbye, is one not to be missed. I probably should have waited to read it for personal reasons that came close to breaking me but at the same time, I couldn't stop and when I swiped the last page, I found a crack in my heart that wasn't as big as it was when I started. Whether you choose to be a part of Sam and Lukas' journey now or later, just know you don't want to miss it. It may seem heavy at times but it's entertaining from beginning to end and that's all I ever ask for.
One last side note: I have added this to my Xmas shelf even though the holiday is a tiny blip in wordage but as I am in the "Die Hard is a Christmas Movie" camp, I view my readings the same, if the holiday is mentioned than its holiday story.
Summary:
Black and Blue #3
After powerful psychic Blue Billings fell in love with Levi Black, he believed their biggest challenges would arise from Blue’s ability to see and speak to the dead. So it’s rather alarming when he and Levi are confronted with a spate of new—and frightening—problems that have to do with the realm of the living.
A sadistic serial killer is stalking their beloved York, and Blue himself is in the killer’s crosshairs. Blue and Levi must race against time to catch the murderer as the deaths increase in ferocity. But when they’re forced from their home, and close acquaintances seemingly disappear like mist over the Minster’s spires, Blue finds that he is completely and terrifyingly on his own, and for the first time in his life, he’s without his powers.
This is the third book in the bestselling Black and Blue series. The books are meant to be read in order.
Summary:
Psychic Detective Series #3
If I could have put off meeting Thompson’s family forever, I would have. But he made it crystal clear it was important to him, and I got the feeling if I blew it off again, I’d lose him.
So, like a good boyfriend, I accompanied him to the rustic city of Big Bear, hoping for the best. I expected awkward moments, and funny looks from his family. What I didn’t see coming was having to hang out with his perfect ex-lover, Alexander, and for dead bodies to start piling up.
Working and living together, Thompson and I formed a bond I didn’t think could be broken. But when he starts doubting my abilities, and pulling away, simply because he doesn’t like what I’m saying, I start to realize maybe we were never as tight as I’d thought.
Thompson needs to decide if he wants to protect the past, more than he wants to join me in the future. He thinks I’m just scared of commitment, and so I’m causing trouble. But the reality is, Thompson is the person with one foot out the door.
This 50,000+ MM romance Mystery is the THIRD book in my Psychic Detective Mysteries Series. You will want to read book one Shadow's Edge and book two Shadow's Return first for optimal enjoyment.
Weird AF Vampires #2
Santa’s been granting wishes in the VIP lounge for over a century. It’s time for some wish fulfillment of his own.
I love my job, really, but lately it’s been … boring. The most interesting thing to happen in months is when a college student days from graduation marches into the bar to fix his virgin problem.
I turn him away, of course. I don’t do virgins or other vampires. Those are my rules.
Then, his friends ditch him without a phone or wallet and leave him at the mercy of the club’s vampires. I don’t know why I step up, but I can’t leave him there. I’m known for taking in strays, and that's all he is.
Or is he? Beneath Boz’s snarky exterior is a sweet and sensitive man. I never expected someone like him to turn my head, but he’s the closest I’ve come to my wish for a happy relationship since I became a vampire.
I’m not the only vampire interested in Boz, though. His boss wants to hire him permanently, if you know what I mean, but some of her employees have other ideas. To get my greatest desire, I risk blowing my cover to the most dangerous vampire in the world.
What, you didn’t think Santa was my real name, did you?
Santa's Wish is a male/male romance between a centuries old vampire sex worker and a human virgin with a master's degree from MIT. Both characters are consenting adults and no payments exchange hands. Despite the vampire nature of the book, this is still a sweet and spicy Christmas romance. Content warnings for violence and death/turning of a main character.
Shake Your Boo Thang by Chloe Archer
CHAPTER ONE
RULE #3: THE RULE OF THREES
Trouble often comes in threes. The worse the haunting, the more serious this becomes. Keep three in mind when investigating potential entity phenomena. Let’s just say, the number three is no coincidence when it comes to the paranormal.
For instance:
One knock? Could just be a drafty old house.
Two knocks? If it isn’t a human at the door, watch your back.
Three knocks? If you haven’t updated your next of kin, now might be the time.
Keep a cool head and trust your official ExorSquad Ltd. equipment to handle the job.
Note: ExorSquad Ltd. accepts no liability for injury, death, dismemberment, possession, spontaneous combustion, or unauthorized eternal damnation.
—ExorSquad Employee Safety Manual and Operational Guidelines (Revised Edition)
Callum
Christ on a bike. How has my sorry excuse for a life come to this?
Mimi Dalton, the owner of Salon de Spin, studies me skeptically from where she sits behind her office desk. “Gerald over at ExorSquad told that you’re a”—she looks at the notes in front of her—“a Spirit Extraction Specialist but you used to be”—she turns the page—“a detective inspector for the Met?”
I try not to wince at the new title, or the lingering pain of the old one, and clear my throat.
“Aye, that’s right.”
I’d been a detective inspector much longer than I’ve been in my current role. At one time, my entire life had been my career. I lived and breathed working for the Met. Then one close call brought me face-to-face with the supernatural in a manner I couldn’t deny, no matter how hard I tried.
It ultimately set me on the path to where I am now, hunting ghosts and trying to reclaim control over my life after it all went pear-shaped. I’m hoping this case will give me some much-needed answers in addition to experience.
But at the moment, it’s like I’m fumbling about in the dark without a torch, and I’m just as clueless about what I’m dealing with now as when I almost died on my last case as a DI five years ago.
Relief washes over Mimi’s face. “A friend put me in contact with ExorSquad when I was nearly at my wit’s end. Gerald assured me you’d be able to handle my little problem. He’s made me feel so much better about this whole mess.”
I don’t bloody doubt it. Gerald’s got the air of a skeevy used car salesman about him, but he knows how to tell anxious clients exactly what they want to hear.
Way to throw me under the bus, Gerald. If this all goes tits up, I’ll be the one to blame, no doubt.
Bastard.
Mimi leans forward, clasping her hands together on her desk. She’s in her mid-thirties and dressed head to toe in a pink athleisure sweatsuit with some logo I don’t know from Adam, but I can tell the outfit’s expensive. Her blond hair’s pulled up into a sleek ponytail, and her white trainers look like they’ve never set foot on a London street.
“I’ll be honest, Mr. Fraser, I desperately need your help. My studio’s barely been open a month and I’m losing clients left and right due to the… strange phenomena that’ve been happening.”
She shifts uncomfortably in her office chair, and I don’t blame her. Five years ago, if you’d asked me if ghosts were real, I would’ve told you that’s a load of pish.
I keep my expression blank and don’t bother to tell her that the so-called Spirit Extraction Specialist training I very recently received with ExorSquad is laughable at best. I also refrain from sharing that this is my first bona fide case with the company. My new boss, Gerald Pickett, dumped this one on me and didn’t seem to be concerned about my lack of experience—even when I flatly rejected his attempt to assign me an ExorSquad partner.
When I stumbled across one of ExorSquad’s adverts a few weeks ago, I knew I had to investigate. After all, I’d found few answers for the mysteries plaguing my life now that I can see dead people. Fucking hell, I’ve basically turned into that kid in The Sixth Sense except that I can’t communicate with any of them. I see them clear as day, but it’s radio silence. I’m not even sure if ghosts can talk, to be honest.
All this is to say, I was fucking desperate when I signed up with ExorSquad. Sadly, the answers I was hoping for didn’t come. Instead, I was given a brief orientation, a questionable handbook, some weird gadgets that I’m not convinced do much of anything, and sent on my merry way.
Some days I can’t fathom the bizarre turn my life’s taken.
Okay, to be fair, I did receive a lot of information about supposed “entity levels” and associated abilities, but sometimes what the instructor told us ended up contradicting itself or being open-ended. For instance, I could never get a straight answer as to why I can see ghosts now but others can’t—even when a ghost is in the same room with us both. Entities, it would seem, aren’t entirely consistent in their behaviors or how they manifest. I’ll admit, I kind of tuned out after that and just went through the motions, figuring I’d learn more out in the field than in their sorry excuse for a classroom.
I’ve always been more of a hands-on learner anyway.
My days as a DI are over, so working as a Spirit Extraction Specialist for ExorSquad, which amounts to being a private investigator into possible paranormal phenomena, is the new direction I’m taking for now.
I try not to grimace as I shift in my hard wooden chair to ease the discomfort in my fucked-up back and pull out my notepad. Some habits die hard.
“Why don’t you fill me in on the situation? Start from the beginning.”
Mimi leans closer, her voice getting quieter, as if she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “At first, it was just small things—the lights flickering every now and then, temperature fluctuations in the main spin studio. Stuff like that, easy to write off. I brought in an electrician and had the thermostat checked, but everything was fine. We decided to ignore the little oddities.” She bites her bottom lip and looks away. “But then things… escalated.”
I pause in my scribbling and eye her sharply. “How so?”
Her right eye twitches and her mouth sets in a grim line. “First, one of the studio cycles malfunctioned and injured Tate, my best instructor and the one in charge of evening classes. Our cycles are brand-new machines, it shouldn’t have happened. Later, I had someone come out to examine Tate’s bike and they found nothing wrong with it. But…”
It’s my turn to lean closer. “What?”
She swallows. “According to Tate, and a few students I spoke with afterward who attended the class, it was like the bike was possessed or something. The pedals started going faster than humanly possible. Then poor Tate was basically ejected from the bike by some unseen force, one that flung him several feet in the air!” She shakes her head in dismay. “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but the accounts were all the same. And if it were a joke, those students wouldn’t have canceled their memberships in obvious fear. That’s when I realized there was something unnatural at work here.”
“What about CCTV footage?” I ask.
“That’s the thing.” She gulps and clutches her hands tightly. “They went on the fritz that night—but only during that class session and only in that room. They came right back online after everyone fled.”
A familiar tightening sensation in my gut, the one I always used to get when I knew I was on the trail of a criminal, tells me this job might be the real deal—unexplained paranormal phenomena.
“What happened next?”
Mimi sighs. “Thankfully, Tate’s injuries weren’t too serious—just some bruising and a sprained ankle—but he was spooked.” She arches an eyebrow. “No pun intended. He handed in his resignation and like I said, all the students in that class canceled their memberships.”
I nod slowly. “Not surprising. That would be unsettling to almost everyone.”
Mimi’s bottom lip trembles. “For a little while after that, things seemed to go back to normal, but the studio was getting some bad word of mouth from former members who’d left us in a hurry. I was struggling financially, but we hadn’t had anything like what happened to Tate.” Her face crumples. “Then odd things started happening again.”
I offer a grunt of commiseration.
“At first, it was small. People attending the evening classes started hearing strange knocking noises in the hallways, and one woman ran screaming out of the toilets, claiming she saw someone behind her in the mirror but no one was there when she turned around.” She rubs at her temples. “And for some bizarre reason, we can’t play our music tracks during evening classes either. Somehow, they always turn into”—she scrunches up her face—“old disco hits.”
I blink at her. “That’s unusual.”
But it also seems important, so I underline that in my notes.
“Look, I’m not one to judge people’s musical preferences, but my clients want contemporary songs with a beat that gets their blood pumping so they can enter the zone while they spin.”
“You’ve mentioned only the evening classes. Has any of this happened during the daytime?”
Mimi shakes her head. “No, thank goodness. Our morning classes haven’t had any issues. They’re the only thing keeping the business barely afloat right now.”
“And you’re certain it isn’t one of your employees pulling pranks?”
She frowns. “I checked, but there’s nothing that suggests any of my staff are behind this. If anything, I’m having a hell of a time keeping most of them. Even they’re starting to get freaked out by the whole situation. Only Brad is bull-headed enough to keep teaching an evening spin class.”
She slumps in her chair and suddenly looks a few years older than I initially pegged her. “We’re down to that one evening class now, after starting out with four, but I’m having to cancel it more often than not because we can’t get anyone to sign up anymore. It’s a prime time for us. People get off work and want to get a good workout in. Income from the day classes won’t keep the studio going for very long. I’ve got to be able to resume offering evening classes that clients will feel safe in and that won’t scare them off.”
“Is there a class happening tonight?”
Mimi shakes her head sadly. “No one signed up and I can’t afford to pay an instructor when there aren’t any students.”
“My recommendation for now would be to put the evening classes on temporary hiatus. To be on the safe side.”
Mimi runs a hand down her face. “I figured as much.”
I lean back in my seat and contemplate what she’s told me. “Since activity only seems to happen at night, I’ll come back this evening when no one’s around to do some recon on my own.”
Mimi frowns. “You don’t want me to join you?”
I shake my head. “I can’t ensure your safety if you do.” I flash her a smile filled with DI-level confidence. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”
“Fair enough. That’s honestly a bit of a relief.” She shivers and rubs her arms. “Being here at night is too creepy these days.” She tilts her head and bites her bottom lip. “How long do you think this will take? The investigation, I mean.”
I close my notebook and return it and my pen to my jacket pocket.
“That’s hard to say right now. I should have a better idea what we’re dealing with after tonight.”
I’m bullshitting on that one, but she doesn’t need to know that.
She wrings her hands. “I understand. But if you can get this wrapped up within the next two weeks, I’ll be more than willing to pay a bonus. Once I get on my feet financially again, I mean.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Right now, I’d like to take a look around and interview some of your employees.”
“Of course,” Mimi agrees, and takes me on a quick tour.
As I wander through Salon de Spin, nothing seems out of the ordinary. In fact, the building appears to be pretty contemporary, making me wonder just how old it is. The electrical all looks up to code, and the handful of employees I talk to are just as on edge as Mimi. Most inform me that they refuse to do any of the night classes after what happened to Tate.
This place is posh and geared toward a certain type of clientele, but it doesn’t carry any vibes that tug at my instincts. After years at the Met, I’ve developed a highly reliable radar for danger, and nothing’s pinging me here.
But I’ve also learned that, when it comes to the supernatural, time of day can make a huge difference. Coming back tonight will be critical.
I meet up with Mimi again to take a look at some of the studio’s security footage for the entrances. Like a lot of businesses these days, Salon de Spin has CCTV monitoring the front and back doors, but these don’t show anything out of the ordinary on the dates of the incidents she mentioned.
We say our goodbyes around noon, and I head out into a brisk October day, the sky gray and dreary. I make my way back to my flat, and when I unlock the door, my cat, Poirot, greets me with immediate leg rubs, clearly hoping for some food.
“The vet says you need to lose weight, chum.”
Poirot gives me a dirty look and ambles off, tail flicking with irritation.
Sitting at my kitchen bar, I make a quick call.
“Thank you for calling ExorSquad, where all your hauntings go to die.”
I cringe. “Hiya, Ted. Is Gerald around? Need to update him on my visit to Salon de Spin.”
My boss’s assistant puts me on hold and I listen to the tinny Muzak for a couple of minutes.
“What’ve you got for me, Callum?” Gerald suddenly says into the line.
From the puffing noise he makes while talking, I’m guessing he’s smoking again, despite indoor regulations.
I don’t waste time and give him a quick recap.
Gerald grunts when I finish. “You’ve got your equipment ready for tonight?”
Damn him and the bloody equipment. Most of it seems about as useful as a dousing rod in the Sahara Desert.
“Sure,” I hedge.
“If you encounter any technical issues, you’re on your own. We don’t have any tech support at the moment.”
I frown. “What happened to Hollis?”
That guy was like the Q of supernatural gadgets. Total nerd but very reliable.
“Look at the time. Gotta run. Important meeting,” Gerald says, sounding dodgy as hell, and then hangs up.
The slimy impression I got upon first meeting him continues to grow. I don’t trust him one bloody bit. When this case is over, I may end up handing in my notice and going freelance if I want to keep doing this. I’d rather be my own boss than continue working for someone like Gerald for very long.
Tossing my phone aside, I make myself a quick lunch of beans on toast, followed by a strong cup of tea, which I sip as I open my laptop and type up my notes from my appointment. Then I do a quick internet search on the address of the studio, but I don’t find any indicators that something bad has happened on the site in the past.
Leaning back in my chair, I finish the dregs of my tea and devise my plan for tonight. It’s time for me to see if there really are ghosts in this building or if I’m being led on a wild goose chase.
The Edge of Goodbye by Davidson King
Chapter One
Sam
“I’m gonna do it!”
The little boy on the other side of the counter shouted, “No!”
“It’s happening.” I was trying hard to hold in my laughter.
“Please, Sammy, no gummy bears!”
“How can you have a Berenstain Bears crafted cone without bears, Lewis?” I lowered my hand and dumped the gummy bears into the small bowl.
“I love the Berenstain Bears, but gummy bears are gross.” He scowled. Lewis couldn’t have been older than six. He came in every Saturday with his grandpa to Cone Crafters Ice Cream Shop, where I worked. And every week, it was a different order for Lewis.
“Hmm.” I tapped my chin. “What are your feelings on Teddy Grahams?”
His eyes widened, and his voice filled with wonder. “On an ice cream cone?”
I shrugged. “Why not? What, are the ice cream police going to come and arrest me?”
He giggled, and his grandpa ruffled his head. “No.”
With a solid nod, I stuck the cone into the holder and rushed to the storage room, where there was a box of Teddy Grahams. I got four of them and returned. Lewis watched with a huge grin on his face as I strategically placed each bear. They were bigger than gummy bears, and it was difficult but here at Cone Crafters, we specialized in extreme ice cream architecture.
“Bam!” I stepped away, my fingers spread wide. “Look at that.”
Lewis and his grandpa clapped. I grandly handed the cone over to the boy and then regarded his grandpa. “What are you having today?”
“Nothing so extravagant. Perhaps just a cup of rum raisin.”
“You got it.”
Once I had the two of them squared away, I grabbed a rag and washed down the area. It got sticky fast and while I loved creating cool cones, I hated being sticky.
“Sam. Oh my God, Sam!”
I turned just in time to see my best friend Natalie rushing through the back room over to me, her hands flapping, a huge, excited expression on her face. She had her blond hair in her typical ponytail, and her glasses were all askew.
“Nat, what’s up?” I chuckled when she practically barreled into me, stopping half an inch away.
“Lancaster Island.” She pointed toward the storefront window. Cone Crafters was across the street from the water, and through the glass you could see the island with the huge mansion on it. From what I’d heard, it had been vacant for the last twenty or so years. The only way on or off it was by boat, and while I often saw a speedboat come and go, it was likely just a cleaning crew or something.
“What about it?”
She squealed. “Someone is moving in!”
“Really?” Now I was excited. I was so curious about that house. It was never for sale and one day Nat and I had gone digging for info to find it had been in the Lancaster family name for generations. Yet, for as long as I could remember, no one had lived there.
“Yes…a long lost Lancaster, perhaps?” She squeezed my hand, vibrating with happiness.
“That would be so freaking cool.”
A voice cleared, and we both turned. Natalie’s father, the owner of Cone Crafters, was staring at us, one eyebrow raised, obviously trying to hold back a smile.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, Mr. Johnson.”
“You’re being a little loud.”
I scanned the shop. Only Lewis and his grandfather were here, and they weren’t paying us any mind.
“Were we disturbing the air?” I asked with a smirk.
“You’re a smartass, Samuel. If I didn’t love you like my own son, I’d swat you.”
“Sorry, sorry. But did you hear?”
He nodded. “I think the whole town heard the news from my daughter.”
She playfully glared at her father. “You have to admit, it’s cool and mysterious.” She began making ghost noises.
“You both act like you’re still teenagers.” He sighed.
I held up my pointer. “I’m a post teenager.”
His brow crinkled. “You’re twenty-five.”
“Mmhmm…barely out of my teenage years, wouldn’t you say?”
He rolled his eyes and tossed a rag at me. “Get to work, you brat.”
I caught it and as soon as he was out of earshot, I whispered to Natalie, “What do we know?”
“Nothing. You know Kim who works for Chester Real Estate?” I nodded. “I bumped into her when I was picking up dry cleaning, and she told me someone was moving in but it wasn’t sold, that it appears someone from the Lancaster family is likely moving in.”
“She doesn’t know who?”
“Nope.”
“Weird.” I faced the window again, gazing at the island that was far out but not so much that we couldn’t see the monstrosity of a house. “I wonder if Ben knows.” He was our third, and he worked at the library.
Nat snapped her fingers. “Brilliant!”
“I’m off work in an hour; then we can head there and see if he knows what’s going on?”
She tapped the counter and cackled. “Yes!”
An hour and a half later, we were sitting at a table at the library and talking to Ben, who had some information for us.
“Lukas Farren is moving in there. He’s some CEO or owns like a hundred companies. Anyway, he’s the current homeowner.”
Natalie cocked her head. “Not a Lancaster?”
Ben shook his head. “I dug a bit, and it appears the Lancasters married out so much that there is no one who officially has that last name.”
“Do we call it Farren Island now?” I looked from Ben to Nat.
“You can’t just rename a property.” Ben chuckled.
“Do you think he’ll come to shore or skulk in his big mansion away from the common folk?” Natalie asked.
“No idea. I didn’t have time to dig much into Lukas Farren.” He cut the air with his hand. “I’m actually working here.”
“You’re the head librarian. Don’t you have bookworms to do your bidding?” I scoffed.
“Um…that’s not how it works.”
“Okay, but, like, is he moving in with a family? Is he alone?” Natalie was giddy, and I too was eager to know more.
“No idea. I just know this Lukas guy is now the island’s resident. Like I said, I am working, and I have other things to do.”
“Fine, fine. Well, maybe tomorrow we can investigate.” I shrugged. I supposed one day would be okay.
Ben frowned. “Can’t. Emily’s parents are visiting. We’re telling them she’s pregnant.” Upon saying it out loud, his face brightened. Ben was the only one of the three of us who’d gotten married, and now he was going to be a dad. He was good-looking in a nerdy way, which people totally dug. Curly brown hair, bow ties and all that.
“Oh, that’s exciting!” I reached out and squeezed his arm. “No problem. Nat and I will do some detective work and let you know what we find.”
He nodded. “I don’t work Tuesday. Maybe we can meet for lunch and put together everything we have.”
“Plan.” Nat put her hand on the table. I covered hers with mine and we waited for Ben. A beat later, he rolled his eyes and laid his hand on mine. “The power of three,” we all cheered in various tones.
“You’re dorks.” Ben stood, but he smiled. “See you later.”
When he was gone, Nat and I faced each other, and she spoke. “Wanna see if Clark’s taking his fishing boat out tomorrow morning and snag a ride?” That was a brilliant idea.
“Yes!”
We had the beginnings of a plan. It was exciting and mysterious. I had a bucket list, and one thing on there was to solve a mystery. This was totally going to have me scratching that off.
Something Wicked by Lily Morton
BLUE
The Minster is striking six o’clock as I make my way up the lane. Lights are winking on in the houses around me, and as a window nearby opens, I smell garlic, and my stomach rumbles. There was a rail strike today, and consequently, everyone had been packed onto the train like sardines, and the only food I could get hold of was a dry cheese sandwich.
I’m starving, and I really hope Levi’s been cooking. At the thought of him, I pick up my pace, familiar warmth blooming inside my chest. I’m going home, and after three weeks away, I’m dying to see Levi. I want a hug and a good fuck followed by cuddles. Food should be slotted somewhere in that itinerary. I can’t wait.
Our house looms ahead of me, the lights glowing golden. I note the closed blind on the kitchen window with a barely concealed smile. Ah, good memories.
I’m nearly at the door when furtive movement in a patch of shadows catches my eye. I tense, going completely still. What is it?
I relax as I see my Crow—or Bernard, as I’ve christened him. He’s dressed in the black funeral clothes that make him look like a Victorian undertaker. He stands glumly staring up at the house, his body language clearly screaming that if he were wearing a sandwich board, it would state that the end of the world is nigh.
“Evening, Bernard,” I say cheerfully, and he turns to look at me. After a year of seeing him, his appearance no longer freaks me out, but his utter stillness still does. It isn’t normal to be so still. Well, not in this world.
“Any message?” I ask, twirling my house keys around my finger. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, because Levi’s waiting for me.”
He hesitates, and for a wild second, I think he’s going to actually say something.
I hold my breath, as his mouth opens and closes.
My breath leaves me in a shocked grunt as black blood suddenly begins to ooze from his eye sockets. It drips down his wrinkled cheeks in gruesome streams as his mouth opens in a silent scream.
“What the fuck?” I gasp, stumbling back. My ankle turns awkwardly, and I narrowly avoid jettisoning into the wall. I right myself, taking in great gulps of air.
I glance at Bernard and discover he’s himself again, staring silently up at the house.
“Bernard, that’s naughty. Warn a bloke, will you?” My words are light, but I’d bit down hard on my tongue when I’d stumbled, and there’s a lingering grittiness in my mouth that tastes like fear. He’s never shown me that side of himself before. “I really wish you could talk,” I add. “You’re like the world’s creepiest non-singing telegram.”
But why would he speak when he has such a cute party trick? His very presence is a message. Crows are given to us Partworlders as an early warning system for trouble. I’ve grown used to Bernard, but Tom thinks I should have an army of Crows, as Bernard could be heading for work burnout. So far, though, he’s the only poor sod who’s shown up.
Which leads me to a worrying thought. Why has he shown up now?
At one point, I couldn’t get through an hour without Bernard popping up and pacing in my vicinity, but for the last few months, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.
I’d sort of missed him, but now I’m reconsidering that sentiment. I might be bored off my tits with the psychic world, but Bernard’s gory eyes were not the entertainment I was hoping for.
“I hear you, Bernard,” I say softly, and he ignores me as usual. The wind gets up, but not a thread on his clothes moves. I follow his gaze to the ground-floor window, but when I glance at him again, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the dark lane.
He’ll be back. I give my surroundings an uneasy glance, as if trouble is going to be barrelling down on me, but my home is as it usually is—on a cobbled lane with other beautiful old houses and the golden Minster glimpsed at the end.
The wind tugs at my thin jacket, and I shiver, dismissing the interaction with the ease of long practice and moving up the steps to our house. I let myself in and light and warmth instantly surround me. The air smells of one of Levi’s favourite fig candles and not of cooking, I note disapprovingly.
I take off my jacket, throw it on the coat hook, and smile at the huge six-foot painting on the wall. It’s a rendering of Bernard. He stands on the lane, the cobbles glistening in the rain and the Minster a golden blur. He’s wearing what I call his best black clothes and a suitably anxious expression.
It’s superb, which is hardly surprising, as Levi painted it. He’d pressed me for details about Bernard’s appearance while we lay in bed one rainy afternoon, and his depiction is incredibly true to life. The image is not everyone’s taste for home decor, but it’s there for a purpose—a beautiful and loving reminder to keep my eye out for trouble and not leap headlong into it. I love it.
Music is coming from the kitchen.
“Levi, I’m home,” I call. “I sorted out the poltergeist problem. I told it to go to the light.” I rub the plaster over my eye. “So, it threw a lamp at me.”
Rosalind suddenly emerges into the hall through the closed kitchen door. She’s as neat and tidy as ever, her long violet-patterned dress hanging in freshly pressed folds. I blink as she glares at the door and then vanishes. Weird. She usually loves Levi.
The door opens, and I can’t help the huge grin that crosses my face. Here he is. The love of my life. He’s dressed in faded jeans that cling to his long legs and a loose green plaid shirt. He’s barefoot, and his brown hair is wavy and longer than it’s ever been before. I love it. It gives me something to grip. I frown as my gaze lands on his face.
“I’m not sure I want a kiss,” I say grumpily as he comes towards me, grinning. “Not with that nest of gerbils on your face.”
He strokes the beard he decided to grow a couple of months ago. “I think I look very distinguished,” he says, his eyes twinkling.
“Only if distinguished means you’re moonlighting as an eighty-year-old pipe smoker looking for his rocking chair.” I tug on the soft brown hairs. “It’s scratchy.”
He smirks. “You weren’t complaining last time you were home.”
“Well, my inner thighs rarely agree with my face.”
“And that is just how it should be,” he says solemnly.
He opens his arms, and I fall into them, inhaling his woodsy cologne and feeling his strong hands on my back. I tip my head back, and he lays a hot kiss on me. When I come up for air, my face is stinging, and I’m breathing heavily.
“Missed me?” I ask slyly.
He kisses my nose, making my eyes cross. “Well, the house has been tidy and quiet for three whole weeks.”
“How very boring for you.”
“But somehow I coped.”
The kiss he gives me belies the casual statement, and by the time he pulls away, my mind is foggy, and my dick is hard.
“Upstairs,” I say breathily. “I am prepared to overlook the monstrosity on your face for just this one time.”
“How very generous,” he says, but his breathing is as hard as mine, and his grip on my arse is tight.
I step back reluctantly and hold out my hand to him. “I need a shower, though. The train was packed. I had more intimate encounters with complete strangers this afternoon than in the old days.” I spin around as I hear a cough and the sound of a chair scraping the floor in the kitchen. “Is someone here?”
Levi blinks, the lust clearing from his pretty face. “Oh shit, I forgot,” he whispers. He grabs my hand. “I need you to prepare yourself. You’re not going to be very happy.”
“Oh my god, is that a bailiff in the kitchen? Have you developed a gambling habit, lost the house, and promised my virtue to the people you owe money to?”
He blinks. “That would be extracting money under false pretences.”
“True. I can’t even remember what my virtue looked like.”
“Probably filled with sarcasm and sass.”
“You’re not wrong.”
The door opens, and the smile drops off my face as a dark-haired man appears.
“Hello. Blue, is it?” he says.
“Rhys,” I gasp.
What the fuck is happening here?
Rhys Stanhope is one of Levi’s old college friends—someone he’d known when he was with Mason. Rhys popped up in our lives a couple of months ago. He’d rung Levi out of the blue to tell him he was going to be in York and wanted to meet up. I think it was more that he wanted to meet up and be in Levi. If ever there was someone with a crush on my bloke, it’s Rhys.
I stare at Levi, who grimaces and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“Rhys’s firm has moved to York,” he mutters.
There’s an overlong silence. “I’m searching for words,” I finally say.
Rhys gives me an oily smile. “It’s nice to meet you properly. The last time I met you, you were moving rather quickly. Hope your dietary flare-up is okay now.”
I narrow my eyes. When I’d first met Rhys, I’d been in the middle of spook busting, as Will has charmingly taken to calling it. I’d been following an old lady named Rose, who had decided to liven up her afterlife by accosting tourists. The church had called on me to put a stop to her tourist-focused aggression and to ensure my enthusiasm had promised to pay me.
Levi had been at a nearby beer garden. He’d seen me pass and, not knowing my mission, he’d called me over to meet Rhys. I’d stood there fidgeting, becoming the subject of Rhys’s patronising comments and witnessing his seemingly endless trip down memory lane and his attempts to drag Levi along with him. In the end, I’d made my excuses and dashed off when Rose pulled an old man’s hat off and hit him with it.
Later, Levi had told me he’d offered my excuses to Rhys. Now I know what they were. I direct a cool glare at my other half, who doesn’t look even remotely cowed. He gives me a sunny smile that makes me want to laugh.
“Yes, all cleared up,” I say, realising that Rhys is waiting to make the most of my digestive problem.
I eye Rhys’s pristine chinos and blue shirt and try not to look down at my ancient jeans and purple T-shirt that proclaims “I Didn’t Do It” in neon-yellow letters alongside a large coffee stain. We’re a study in contrasts.
Levi stirs. “All’s well, then. Good.”
My lip twitches. “Why wouldn’t it be? We lead such humdrum lives, Levi.”
He shrugs. “Well, you know. Humdrum is as humdrum does.”
I try very hard not to laugh. “That beard has obviously improved your vocabulary. But not your charm,” I add repressively, just in case he’s thought about becoming Opie in Sons of Anarchy.
His eyes twinkle, but Rhys exclaims, “You don’t like it? I think it makes him look very distinguished.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” I say silkily.
Levi clears his throat, now looking rather alarmed. “So, Rhys has moved to York with his firm, and he called in to say hello.”
Rhys chuckles, and I wonder if his voice would still have that pleasant timbre if I kneed him in the knackers. Levi heads back into the kitchen and Rhys follows him as if my boyfriend’s trouser contents are made of gold.
I join them and make a tsking sound when I see there’s no sign of food.
Levi winks at me. Movement at the table catches my eye, and I look down to see a cup of coffee slide slowly and inexorably across the table, heading for an open messenger bag that I presume is Rhys’s. I cheer up.
Unfortunately, Levi sees the cup too. He exclaims, “Shit!” and snatches the mug off the table. I sigh disappointedly and swear I hear an echoing one from Rosalind.
“Again?” Rhys exclaims. “Every time I’ve been here, something strange has happened. Are you on a fault line or something?” he says teasingly, running his hand down Levi’s arm.
I glare at him. Levi doesn’t notice, as he’s set on checking the kitchen for more Rosalind traps.
“Really?” I say coolly. “Things have always been happening to you in our house, have they?”
Levi’s mouth twitches, but Rhys gives me an unimpressed look. “Yesterday I got locked in the bathroom for half an hour.”
Personally, I’d have made it six hours, and I wonder if Rosalind’s Victorian sensibilities would be offended if I high-fived her. “Goodness. It’s as if the house is rejecting you. Maybe it’s because you have very thin lips and eyes that are far too close together.”
“Oh god.” Levi sighs.
Rhys’s brow wrinkles. “Pardon?”
“Or so, the plot of the film I watched last night ran,” I say airily. I settle down on a chair. “Well, we won’t keep you, Rhys. I’m sure you have things to do.” I shoot Levi a lecherous look. “As do I.”
“Oh, you don’t know?” Rhys says.
Could there be a more aggravating statement than when your boyfriend’s new admirer says that?
Rhys opens his mouth, and I find the answer to that question is yes. “I’m taking Levi out to dinner to say thank you.”
“I beg your pardon.” Levi stares at Rhys, and the obvious astonishment on his face makes me relax. “We never made any arrangements,” Levi says.
Rhys shrugs. “It’s a surprise. It’s been so great to reconnect. You’ve been very good to me, Levi.”
“Have you really, Levi?” I say in a singsong voice. “Do tell me more.”
“Knock it off,” he advises me. He grabs my arm and pulls me up. “Rhys, give us a minute.”
Rhys waves a casual hand, and I’m just imagining it caught in the meat grinder when Levi pushes me into the hall.
“It’s not what you think,” Levi says. “He’s been in York a few days, and I’ve helped him move in.”
“Why the fuck are you helping him? Surely, there are people who do this. What are they called? Oh, I know. Removal men.”
Before he can respond, Rhys appears in the doorway, and Levi gives an aggrieved sigh.
“Are you ready?” Rhys asks. “I booked the table for seven o’clock.”
“I’m not going,” Levi says, grabbing my hand that’s behind my back and pushing at my fingers until I release the fist I’ve made. “Blue’s home, and I haven’t seen him for a few weeks.”
Rhys pouts, which absolutely does not make him look attractive. “I’m sure Blue wouldn’t mind.” He shoots me a spiteful look. “I’m sure that with his stomach problems, he’s looking forward to an early night.”
We stare at each other. When he blinks first, I shrug. “On the contrary, it sounds wonderful,” I say cheerfully. “Where are we eating?”
Rhys’s brow furrows. “What?”
The frustration in his voice makes me happy. A silence falls, and then he sighs.
“Great,” he says sulkily. “I’ll go and change the booking.” He stalks into the other room.
“What is going on right now?” Levi asks.
I glare at him. “Apparently, we are now eating with your new suitor, and I want you to know that this is all entirely your fault.”
“Mine?”
“Totally. Just so you know, my gambling and prostitution idea was a lot better than this, Levi Black.”
He has the grace to look guilty, even though I’m fairly sure he’s laughing behind that pretty face of his.
Shadows Deceive by SC Wynne
Chapter One
Fourteen more hours before the bottom fell out of my world.
Maybe I was being melodramatic, but the reality of meeting Thompson’s family tomorrow was giving me an ulcer. I loved Thompson, but I’d dreaded the concept of getting together with his family since the day he’d first suggested it. I hadn’t exactly dazzled his one brother, Jeff, when we’d met, and I had no real hope the rest of his family would adore me. Thompson insisted they would, if only because they were thrilled he was finally ready to settle down.
I suspected he was just trying to make me feel better.
I still needed to pack. I’d stalled as long as I could without making Thompson angry. He knew I was having a meltdown over this upcoming visit, but it was all arranged. The cogs of torture were in motion, and the best I could do was grit my teeth and bear it.
We were staying two weeks with his family in their cabin in Big Bear. Two god-awful weeks. I’d have been lucky to get through a holiday meal without embarrassing myself. What hope did I have of spending two weeks with the Thompson clan and not turning them off? I had no idea what constituted a healthy family dynamic. I didn’t know how to behave in that sort of situation because my home life growing up had been so dysfunctional.
The front door opened and Thompson came in looking tired. He smiled when he saw me on the couch, and my heart thumped faster as he approached. We’d been living together eight months, but cohabitating still felt very new. I loved living with him for all the typical reasons, like waking up with the man I loved each morning. But being with Thompson was more than simply companionship. He fed my soul. He made me want to be less of a curmudgeon. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d endure two weeks of agony for. Even Will had never been able to talk me into spending over a few days with his family. Of course, they hadn’t wanted me to visit, and apparently Thompson’s family did.
That would probably change after this visit.
He leaned down and kissed me, his mouth warm against mine. He tasted of stale coffee with just a hint of mint. He looked exhausted, and I instinctively wanted to soothe him. I was tempted to grab his shirt and pull him down on the couch with me, but the plantation shutters were open, and I didn’t want to put on a show for the neighbors.
“How was your day?” he asked, pulling off his jacket. He tossed it over the arm of the couch and settled beside me.
“Boring.”
He raised his brows. “I wish my day had been boring.”
“Did you catch a rough case?” I tried not to sound too hopeful. I hadn’t had the opportunity of working with Thompson much the last month, and I missed it. I didn’t have to work to survive. I’d inherited some money when Will died. I wasn’t rich, but I was comfortable. The main reason I preferred to work was it helped keep the yammering spirits at bay. But recently Thompson hadn’t needed me on very many cases. Where were the psychos and sociopaths when you needed them?
Sighing, Thompson raked a hand through his dark hair. “Somebody set a homeless man on fire last night.”
I cringed. “Shit.” My stomach rolled at the idea of what he must’ve had to deal with today. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah.” Weariness settled in the faint lines of his face, making him look older. “Makes me really glad I’m not an ME.”
“God. I can’t even imagine.” I shivered. “Do you have any leads?”
“We’re pretty sure it was a buddy of his.”
“With friends like that…” I grimaced.
“They had a falling-out over a pair of shoes.” He looked disgusted.
“Shoes?”
He nodded, his expression distracted. “Red Nike Air VaporMax running shoes. They go for about two hundred bucks new.”
“I don’t care if they’re a million dollars, who kills their friend over shoes?” God, people were vile. I could barely tolerate them when they weren’t murdering their friends. Sometimes humanity just felt like a big clump of worms, writhing around each other, trying to get to the best piece of rotting garbage.
“Apparently, the guy who died stole the shoes from the guy who killed him.”
“And because of that he had to die?”
“The perp didn’t seem all there mentally.” He pointed to his temple.
“No, I wouldn’t think so.” I frowned. “How the heck did two homeless guys end up with an expensive pair of shoes like that?”
“No idea.” He closed his eyes, his dark lashes thick against his cheeks. “Maybe they stole them off of some other poor slob.”
I studied his angular features, loving the sturdy planes of his face. I’d never expected to love again. Not after Will died. But something about Thompson drew me in. He made it okay to love him and still love Will too. I’d struggled with that a lot in the beginning—the idea that if I fell for Thompson, I’d have to give Will up. But Thompson didn’t want that. He’d loved Will too, as a friend. He made sure we still talked about Will and brought his memory out into the daylight.
With his eyes still closed, Thompson asked, “You remember tomorrow is when we leave for Big Bear, right?” He’d probably hoped my bags would be packed, and waiting by the front door when he’d returned from work.
“Of course I remember.” The trip weighed on me like a root canal. It was impossible to forget when you had a horrendous dental procedure scheduled, and I couldn’t forget the family fun that awaited me atop Big Bear Mountain either.
“Good.”
“Although, we could always cancel and go to Belize instead.” I knew the minute the words came out of my mouth it was a mistake. I was only kidding, but he was not amused. His face tensed, and he opened his eyes, looking annoyed.
“Liam, I’ve been more than patient.” His voice had an edge.
Wincing, I said, “I know. It was a joke.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“You say that kind of thing way too often. It gets old.”
“It’s just weird for me.” I sighed. “I understand completely why you want to be close to your family. I’m just not sure why I have to be close to them. Isn’t it enough that you are?”
He scowled. “That isn’t how family works.”
“I wouldn’t really know.”
“I realize this sort of thing doesn’t come naturally for you. But they want to meet you. I’ve stalled as long as I can, without it being obvious you just don’t want to meet them. If you keep avoiding them, you’ll actually create a problem where there wasn’t one.” His jaw was set stubbornly. “Family is important to me. Whoever I end up with, they need to at least try and blend in with my family.”
Whoever I end up with?
“That sounds cryptic,” I said lightly, hoping he couldn’t see how much his comment had bothered me.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” He grimaced.
I forced a smile. “I know you can’t live without me.” I realized being with me wasn’t easy. He was a normal person with normal needs. There was nothing wrong with wanting to visit family. I was the screwed-up one. If I wanted to be with Thompson, that meant I needed to do the things ordinary people did. Otherwise he might tire of me.
Maybe he’s already tired of me.
My insides twisted at the thought of that. But, no. He wouldn’t put either of us through this family visit if he was planning on dumping me anytime soon. Thompson was far too practical a man to waste his precious vacation time with a soon-to-be ex.
“You know I love you and want to be with you,” he said quietly. “I’m just frustrated.”
“I understand.” I kept my smile firmly in place.
Why did love have to be so complicated? Not the actual act of loving, but all the peripheral stuff. It was one thing to fall in love, and quite another to blend your lives seamlessly. Frankly, there was nothing seamless about me. I was all seam. Mostly unraveling, at the moment. I had a nagging sense that this trip was going to be a disaster. I’d tried to shake that feeling, but it wouldn’t go away.
He sighed. “I think you have it in your head you need to be perfect. You don’t. None of us are perfect.”
“I know that intellectually,” I murmured. “But I’m worried about the length of the visit. Maybe if we’d only stayed a few days, I could pull it off, but two weeks? I can’t pretend to be normal for two weeks.”
He laughed, and it softened his features. “You’re not supposed to pretend. You’re just supposed to be yourself.”
“I’m not sure they can handle the real me.” I grimaced. “Have you forgotten our bizarre dinner with Jeff? I’m sure he left that dinner thinking I was crazy, or that you were for being with me.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, he liked you.”
“God, Thompson. That’s just not true. I interfered with his little plan of you and Denny falling madly in love.”
“That was ages ago. He’s way over that. Jeff isn’t a child. He knows I’m going to love whoever I choose to love.” He put his hand on my leg. “Liam, come on. You’re way overthinking this visit.”
I groaned. “God, I know.”
“Just relax and try to enjoy yourself. We’ll have lots of free time too.”
“Will we?” I asked hopefully.
He smiled. “Of course. I’m looking forward to getting out of the city and breathing some fresh mountain air.”
“That does sound pleasant.”
“It’s going to be great. You’ll see. My family is very nice.”
I smirked. “Well, that makes sense because you’re very nice too.”
“Yeah?” He cocked one brow. “I’m not that nice.”
“True.” My pulse sped up at the look in his eyes. “You can be quite the dirty boy.”
“Speaking of being filthy, want to take a shower with me?” He grinned.
My stomach warmed at the heat in his pretty brown eyes. How had I gotten so lucky? The odds of Thompson falling in love with me had been astronomical. He was way out of my league. “I already took a shower today, but I guess I can take another.”
“Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
I laughed gruffly. “Yes. And you know how religious I am.”
He stood and tugged me to my feet. “Come on. I smell like smoke.”
I winced at the grim reminder of how his day had been. “I’ll scrub your back for you. You could probably use some pampering.”
I followed him into the master bedroom, feeling better about tomorrow. Our little talk had helped some. With Thompson beside me, I could do this. He’d help me navigate all the social pitfalls that might await me. Thompson wanted me to do well. He wanted his family to like me. I could sense how much this mattered to him.
He started the shower while I stripped. When I got in, the water was a little too hot, but I didn’t have time to complain. The moment I joined him in the shower, he pressed me up against the cold tile wall. I gave a muffled yelp, but he covered my mouth with his. I liked it when Thompson took control during sex. He smoothed his rough hands down over my hips, rocking into me. His erection probed between my thighs, and I let my head fall back in silent surrender.
He didn’t speak, he just kissed and stroked every trembling inch of me. The muscles of my legs felt weedy, and I clutched his broad shoulders for support. Water splashed my face when he knelt in front of me.
“I thought I was supposed to pamper you,” I murmured.
“Shhhh. Just go with it, Liam.” He kissed my ball sack tenderly, licking the length of my dick and finally taking me deep into the hot cave of his mouth.
I groaned, need clawing at me. I dug my nails into his back, trying not to give in to my desire to come right away. “Oh, fuck,” I whimpered. His suction was perfect, not too hard, with just a light scrape of teeth. I tangled my fingers in his wet hair, moaning and thrusting gently into his tight throat.
He knew what I needed. He slipped one finger between the crack of my ass, sliding over my hole in a teasing caress. I grunted and bent my knees, giving him better access. He rubbed my entrance, still sucking on my cock with that same delicious pressure.
The pleasure was almost too sweet, and my entire body quivered. No matter how much I wanted this moment to last forever, my self-control had abandoned me. My climax nipped at me, tingling through my swollen balls, prickling along my cock.
“Thompson,” I moaned, squeezing my fingers tighter into his hair. “Gonna come.”
He pulled his mouth off me and stood, his eyes dark and hungry. He turned me to face the wall without a word. My cheek pressed the slick tile, and I panted with anticipation. There was the unmistakable click of a lube bottle lid, and then the tip of his cock pressed into me. The long, pulsing glide of his dick entering me forced a groan from my tight throat.
“Liam,” he whispered, pushing in deeper.
“Oh, God.” One of my hands clutched at the wall, while the other stroked my dick feverishly. I urged him on, begging him to come inside me. He grunted and thrust, and my hips bumped the shower walls hard. I didn’t care that I’d probably be bruised, I just wanted that perfect wave of pleasure that hovered just out of reach.
He nipped my shoulder, thrust upward twice, and froze, his dick swelling inside of me. A hot flush of release filled me, and I came too. Clenching my teeth, I shuddered as waves of ecstasy washed over me. Nothing was as perfect as when we fucked. We were one, inside and out, connected intimately body and soul.
Breathing hard, he pulled out, one hand trailing down my back. “Shit. I needed that.”
I turned, laughing breathlessly. I didn’t say anything, just studied his flushed cheeks and contented expression. My heart squeezed with affection when he grinned at me, water dribbling down the side of his face. I touched his cheek, tracing my finger along his square jaw.
His smile slowly faded, and he said softly, “No matter what happens on the trip, don’t forget that I love you.”
His uneasy thoughts washed over me, and I had a rare, unfettered glimpse into his mind. He was afraid I’d purposely sabotage things with his family. He actually thought I’d prefer to give up, alienate his family, rather than have to fight for him. For us. He worried I’d retreat back into my lonely little world. The one I’d inhabited after Will died, and before he was mine.
It bothered me he had such little faith in me. My heart ached as his doubt ebbed and flowed around me. I kept my face blank, hiding my wounded feelings. Maybe I’d relied on Thompson to do the heavy lifting in the relationship for too long. I’d prove to him that I was worth loving. I’d go into this little family get-together with everything I had. I’d be charming. I’d be open. I’d be everything they needed me to be.
I had to prove to Thompson that I could fit in with his family because that mattered to him. And he mattered to me.
Santa's Wish by Edie Montreux
Chapter 1
SANTA
The best part of being a vampire was, after a few decades, nobody remembered your real name. Since I frequented taverns, bars, nightclubs, what have you, where "everybody knows your name," it benefited me to change mine.
What was my real name? Didn't matter. I changed it to Santa years ago. My sire liked to say I had so many gifts, so I gave him a silver blade to the heart.
Needless to say, I changed my name and tried to drop off Empress Marcella's radar. When she showed up in Boston earlier this year, I almost shit a brick, figuratively speaking. My friend Key told his own story about that. He called it Grave Throbbing, of all things.
BUT I digress. This Santa story begins at the VIP lounge at the best vampire bar in all of Boston …
"Who wants to sit on Santa's lap?" I hollered to the crowd outside the VIP room door. December's flashing neon sign called it Santa's Workshop, which wasn't quite true. My workshop was in the room behind it. I fabricated all kinds of cool sex furniture and machines for our revolving calendar of themes and kinks. November had been The Gobbler, a stand-up cutout of a turkey with a hole for my dick. Now that my friend Key and his sister Greed had moved on to sweet jobs with the vampire council, I tailored the gimmicks to me, my favorite person.
Speaking of Greed, she waved from the bar. Her brother was with her, and was that his boyfriend? I cringed when they kissed. His boyfriend was hot, and I kinda wished he was kissing me.
Nah. I tamped down the feelings of inadequacy and made my way through the crowd toward them.
"Hey, Santa," someone yelled from behind me. I turned, and the gorgeous someone pointed to the VIP room door.
"Back in a minute," I said. "Hold your horses." Not like people actually had horses nowadays, but it was still fun to say, especially when the guy flipped me off and folded his beefy arms over his chest. Damn. I would definitely come back for more of that, but first …
"Hey, if it isn't my two favorite elves!"
"Santa!" Greed grabbed my chin and kissed both cheeks when I drew near. "We've missed you!"
I doubted that. I'd practically begged Key to invite me over when I'd helped him pack the moving van on November 1. Here it was, December 4, and I still hadn't seen the inside of their swanky apartments.
"I've been meaning to call you," Key said as he kissed both of my cheeks, the same as his sister. He pointed over his shoulder to the quiet vampire still seated on his bar stool. "This is Harley. Harley, Santa."
Harley offered his hand instead, and I shook it, giving him a smile. He didn't seem like the type of vampire to posture, and he didn't crush my hand in his grip, which I appreciated. Key had found a good one.
"Thank you for the … coffin," Harley said. "It's … interesting."
"Oh, Harley." Greed laughed at him and handed him a tumbler of blood with a pink umbrella in it. "Santa's an old friend. You can tell him you like the sex furniture he made you."
I did my best not to laugh at Harley's discomfort and flashed Key a sympathetic grin. "I see your sister hasn't stopped giving you grief for every little thing."
"She has not." Key held out his arm, and Greed left her stool to stand at his side as his armrest. "She's shared the love with Harley, as you can see."
Harley raised his glass before downing half of it in one gulp. I hadn't had my fill of blood, either. I asked the bartender, Jameson, to bring me one. It would be the cheapest they offered for the staff, but at least it was a step above the synthetic stuff.
"What brings you in tonight?" I asked once I had my drink in hand.
"Work party," Greed said.
"Here?" Things were really improving at Boston’s vampire council headquarters if they'd started partying at Fanglory.
Greed laughed. "At the hotel down the street. We decided it was boring and came here instead." She was interrupted when a dark-skinned woman with jet black hair slipped between her and the empty barstool and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Ah, there she is! Santa, this is my girlfriend, Ithande."
The beautiful woman nodded and offered her hand to me as well. She didn't bat an eye at my name. Neither did Harley. Maybe the nostalgia was wearing off.
"Greed has told me so much about you," Ithande said. "Did you really let a whole room full of guys circle jerk onto you while you were deep throating someone else?"
"It was my birthday." It had been fun, but at the end of the night, I'd gone home alone. That part hadn't been so great. I glanced at Key and Harley, who sat with their heads together, whispering about something romantic, from the way Harley was blushing.
My birthday would be here again in March, a big round one with two zeros at the end. I'd never really wanted to reach 200, but the day loomed ever closer. I'd never thought I would reach an age where I thought bringing multiple people pleasure each night was … boring.
Boring. There. I said it. My life was fucking boring. Predictable. Same old. Everything I thought a monogamous relationship would be. Bo-ring.
But the night was young, the tumbler of blood rejuvenated me, and the line at the VIP room was growing. Time to get back to work.
"I'll see you all later."
"I'll call you," Key promised as I walked away.
"Uh-huh. Sure you will."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Thanks to my vampire reflexes, I whipped it out before the notification disappeared.
"We're having a party on Christmas Eve," Key sent with an address.
I grinned at the message. It was nice to have plans for the first of two nights in a row Fanglory closed each year.
I returned to the VIP room. No circle jerks tonight. It was one-on-one time with whomever wanted to sit on my lap.
Instead of the beefy bicep guy at the front of the line, there were two tall, thin college-age guys holding a shy twink in glasses between them. I recognized them from a couple of nights ago. They'd been there to close the bar down, and both had paid for their own VIP treatment.
"Hey," the taller one with a flat top said.
"Ho-ho-ho," I said. "What do we have here?"
"This is Boz," the shorter one with a fauxhawk and sparkly pink shirt said, pointing to the shy twink. "He's still a virgin."
Fuck no. "This is no place for virgins."
The college boys smirked at each other, and I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the one I got when I ate human food.
"We were virgins until two nights ago," flattop said.
There was a God, after all, and he fucking hated me.
"Boz is a grad student at MIT. He's just wrapped up his final exams and he's working on his last few assignments. Are you really going to let him graduate a virgin?" Faux-hawk's round eyes were dusted with glittery shadow.
I studied Boz as he shook loose from his companions and stared me down, his arms akimbo as he looped his thumbs through his jeans' belt loops.
"I don't need a whore," Boz said. "Whatever you paid this guy was too much."
Oh, it was on. "Ho-ho-honey, I'll do you for free, and you can see how good I am."
He frowned at me, scrunching his perfectly sculpted eyebrows together. He was pretty in a way that would have seemed ugly if someone had described him to me. Cheekbones too high. Mouth too wide. Eyes a pond green with flecks of gold in them. Teeth too white behind those perfectly kissable lips. Tongue sharper than a dagger as he cut me with it again.
"We're done here." He raked his eyes over me from head to toe, taking in my red suspenders, white furred belt, red velvet pants, and black boots. "Please take me back to Cambridge."
"You're walking home if you don't do this," flattop said.
"You've got to release some of this stress," fauxhawk said.
"Hey, whatever you decide, you need to get your virgin ass out of my line." I motioned for the next person to come forward.
It was the guy with the huge biceps. I was sad to see his legs were not as thick as his arms once he was out of his jeans, but that was the way of it sometimes. We had fun, and then it was time for the next person in line.
Five hours and two thousand dollars later, I was all fucked out, my customers were happy, and our last vampire customer was draped over our only remaining human customer.
"Hey, man, it's time to go." I tugged on the vampire's arm, and he hissed at me.
"This one's mine," he said.
The customer turned his head, and I sighed. The virgin. Of course.
"You'll have to take a number. I saw him first." I had no intention of following up on my claim, but this asshole didn't need to know that.
To get him out of the bar, I clamped down harder on his arm and dragged him across the empty dance floor to the door. "Have a good night!" I smiled and shoved him out the door, activating the wards with a flick of a switch.
The guy charged what looked like an open doorway and bounced back with another hiss. "You'll wish you hadn't messed with us, worm."
I closed the door in his face while pondering, "Which is better, whore or worm?"
My sire had called me a worm, back in the day. This was the first time anyone had dared since I killed him. The knowing glint in the vampire's gaze set me on edge, too. I didn't know him from anyone, nor did I want to.
In the staff dressing room, I showered and changed into jeans and a Grinch t-shirt. When I walked back through the bar, our lone human customer still sat where my friends had been earlier, both elbows on the bar counter.
I zipped up my pants and sauntered over. "Closing time," I said. "You have somewhere you need to be, sweetness?"
Even before he turned, I could smell his breath. The virgin with the poofy curls and glasses had smelled like piña coladas earlier in the night. He still did, now stifled with a heady mix of gin and tonic and rum and Coke.
"They fucking left me here," he said. "I've called them nonstop, but they won't answer, and all my texts are on read."
"I have a car," I said, "and I know my way to Cambridge, if you want a ride."
He looked me over again. This time, he was a little less haughty, but still nowhere near trusting. "You're a vampire."
"You're an asshole," I replied, "but I'll still drive you home."
"You won't try anything?"
"The way I see it, your money left with them. Is that right?"
He nodded.
"Nothing happens unless I get paid." That wasn't what I'd offered earlier, but hey, turn me down, shame on you. "You're safe."
"What about blood? How do I know you won't take a drink from me on the way?"
I laughed and turned to Jameson, the bartender. "How does he know I won't drink from him?"
"Well, you've drunk blood tonight, on the house."
"If it will make you feel better, I'll stop at the drive-through before we leave town. We're not animals, kid."
"It's Boz," he said as he shoved his glasses further up his nose.
"Do you want a ride home or not?" I asked. I felt sorry for him, but he was grating on my last nerve.
"Yes, please."
The "please" did it for me. He was cute in that soft way humans had when they were pretending to be hard in the face of danger. The set of his shoulders and the fear smell beneath all that alcohol brought out the predator in me. Fear mixed with a hint of lust, I noticed as I took a step closer to help him off the bar stool. "My car's out back. See you tomorrow, Jameson."
'Not if I see you first," he said. "It's my day off." Normally, I would have bantered with him for another five minutes to see how he'd spend the day, and who with, but I wanted to get Boz home before it got much later.
"Nice car," he said when I opened the passenger door for him. "Vintage."
"I bought it new." I swung the door shut, and he almost banged his nose on the glass as he stared at me in disbelief. It was a 1966 Chevelle with more miles on it than any American-made muscle should have, even though I'd never driven her out of the state.
"New?" he asked when I slid into the driver's seat. "This is a 1966!"
"What part of vampire is confusing to you? My 200th birthday is coming up in a few months."
"Two hundred." Boz whistled. "I thought vampires were supposed to have their shit together by now." He flinched. "I mean, the car is awesome, and—"
"No, you're right. I lost a goldmine in the stock market crash in '29 and haven't really recovered."
"That was almost a century ago."
"Are you judging me by my job?" I asked. I had fucking had it with these American prudes and their views on sex work. Granted, I was also American, born and raised here thanks to British colonialism and Irish immigration, but I'd lived in Amsterdam with my sire long enough to pick up on a few Old-World views, the best of which was their view on the oldest profession.
He clung to the passenger door as I started the car and put her in gear, squealing the tires as I pulled out of the parking lot. He didn't speak, so I chose to educate him instead of tossing him out while we were moving.
"I own my apartment building. I don't need to work."
That got his attention. He loosened his grip on the door and sank into the passenger seat as I steered us into the line at Blood Drive. We were two cars back from the order window. Plenty of time.
"I do it to provide a service. Look at me. I have the perfect body for this." My sire had turned me for my perfect abs and long, flowing platinum blond hair. Around the time of Fabio, I'd cut it short, knowing it would take centuries for it to grow back. I didn't care. I was tired of looking like a romance novel cover when I wasn't romance novel material.
"Vampires don't get or spread human diseases, and I like sex. It's fun."
"Fun?" Boz looked at me like he couldn't believe it. "It's terrifying."
"How so?"
"All the pressure to be good, make it good for the other person, don't slobber on them, don't be gross…"
"Who were you trying to sleep with, a neat freak?"
He snorted. "Maybe?"
Now I felt bad for turning him away. I should have taken his friends' money and given him an experience so mind-blowing he would still talk about it in a decade.
I handed him my phone as I pulled up to the drive-through window. "Add yourself as a contact."
"What? Why?"
"You need a hookup. Not tonight, since we don't have time."
"We don't?"
The Blood Drive barista was waiting for my order, so I gave it to her and pulled ahead before I turned back to him. "You need to be wined, dined, and fucked out of your little mind. I think I can arrange that on my next night off."
"Wow. Why?"
"Why not?" I studied him again, from his bushy curls to his slender nose, barely holding up his wire-rimmed glasses, to his thin and slightly furry arms. Did that thin coat of dark hair cover the rest of him? I longed to see his chest and legs. I loved twinks with a bit of hair on them.
"I'm not … a catch."
"You're attractive," I said. "You must be fucking brilliant to go to MIT, and you were smart enough to shut your damn mouth when I was ready to throw you out of a moving car. I wouldn't mind spending a night with you."
"One night." He seemed disappointed.
"One night, and then you won't be so nervous when you meet someone you want to fuck, or date, or whatever it is you do with these people who think sex is gross."
He laughed, and something in my gut stirred. I liked the sound. Even more disturbing, I enjoyed being the one to inspire him to laughter. So much so that I reverted to my inner poet, apparently. I hadn't thrown around phrases like "inspire to laughter" for over a century. Back when I'd believed in love and other fairy tales.
I inched forward in the line until it was my turn to pay for my cup of blood. I grabbed it from the cashier and took two hasty sips before setting it carefully between my legs. My beautiful '66 was many things, but practical wasn't one of them.
"I can hold that for you, if you'd like."
"It's safer with me," I said. I drove fast and had better reflexes than the human beside me.
He conceded with a sigh. "I get it. You think I'm worthless, too."
"I didn't say that." He was going to be fun to take apart and mold into a sex god made of nothing but pure desire. I was looking forward to that.
"My friends think I'm worthless," he said. "They say I'm no fun because I'd rather study than go to Boston for the weekend."
"There's nothing wrong with studying.” I'd done my share of it over the years, from carpentry when I was young to the arts with my sire, to whatever the fuck I fancied nowadays. I liked to learn new things, even if I didn't use them daily.
"You're nothing like what I assumed," Boz said as we pulled onto the highway that would take us to Cambridge. "I thought you would be a dumb jock type."
"Because I have muscles?" He nodded, and I laughed. "They're permanent. I spent a lot of time raising houses and building cabinetry before I was turned. The vampire virus let me keep the body without all the upkeep."
"Interesting." He sighed. "I wanted to study medicine, more specifically, your virus, when I was a kid."
"Why didn't you?" Not that I cared, except maybe I did.
"My father is an accountant, so he sent me to business school."
"You're getting your masters? Or doctorate?" He was older than I thought, or smarter.
"Master of Science in Business Analytics," he said. "I even have a job working with vampires lined up, but I know nothing about them. Erm, you."
"Where's the job?"
"Boston. Another reason my friends thought I needed to go to the vampire bar."
I was almost too afraid to ask, but I had to know. "Are you working for Imperial Accounting?"
"Yes."
Fuck. The empress herself. "I hear it pays well."
"It will pay better if I make it six months, but I've never lived in Boston. I'm sure I'll get lost on my first day and then spend a month hating myself for it."
I had a feeling Boz spent a lot of time hating himself, regardless. Honestly, I felt for him. I'd battled my own bouts of poor self-esteem, thanks to my sire.
He asked more questions about being a vampire, and I answered to the best of my ability. Some, I didn't know how to answer because I didn't remember, like what it felt like being turned, or what it was like to have super speed and strength. They were my speed and strength now.
When we reached town, he directed me to turn with better precision than the GPS on my phone. When I pulled up to his dorm, I motioned for him to sit tight while I reviewed his contact information and sent him a text.
"There. You have my number now. Text me when you move in, and I'll give you the nighttime tour of Boston."
"I'd like that." Boz's smile was soft and a little apologetic. "I'm sorry I was such a dick earlier. Thanks for the ride."
"You're welcome, and I have a thing for assholes. And dicks. If you know what I mean." I winked, something I'd perfected in the mirror long before I became a sex worker.
Boz blushed and muttered something that sounded like "Good night."
"Merry Christmas!" I planned on seeing him before then, but I couldn't help it. I was still dressed for the season, and a snow shower dropped glistening stars into our midst.
"Merry Christmas, Santa."
My chosen name sounded magical on his lips. I had to hear it again. I would make sure of it.
On the drive home, I planned, the same way I envisioned every detail of my VIP room fabrications. Our date, or whatever it would become, would be perfect.
Chloe Archer writes queer sci-fi and paranormal rom coms with laugh out loud humor because she’s all about bringing the funny-sexy back. Oh, yeah!
She currently call Minnesota home, but has lived abroad in places like Montreal, Edinburgh, and Tokyo. She’s hoping to relocate to Scotland permanently in the next few years if the stars align.
Chloe is a fur mama to two adorable Yorkies, Jasper and Teddy, and she loves them in a crazy dog mama kind of way. When she isn’t busy writing, she enjoys visiting friends and family, traveling, reading, binge watching movies and TV shows, and practicing her karaoke skills. She does a mean cover of Pat Benatar and Cher, or so she’s been told.
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.
Lily MortonLily is a bestselling gay romance author. She writes love stories filled with heat and humour.
She lives in sunny England with her husband and two children, all of whom claim that they haven't had a proper conversation with her since she got her Kindle.
Lily has spent her life with her head full of daydreams, and decided one day to just sit down and start writing about them. In the process she discovered that she actually loved writing, because how else would she get to spend her time with hot and funny men?
She loves chocolate and Baileys and the best of all creations - Chocolate Baileys!
Lambda Award Winning author S.C. Wynne started writing m/m romance in 2013. She loves writing m/m and her characters are usually a little jaded, funny and ultimately redeemed through love. She also writes Gay Mystery and loves creating twisted little puzzles for the readers to follow.
S.C. lives in sunny Southern California with her husband and two children.
If you’d like to contact S.C. Wynne you can contact her at scwynne@scwynne.com
Hi! I'm Edie Montreux (I also write m/m mpreg romance as Edie Monte). I'm nonbinary (she/they), demisexual, and an ally for all aspects of the LGBTQIA+ rainbow. I love my husband, Queen, dogs, and video games. I write LGBTQ-fiction full time, unless I'm walking my dogs or protecting imaginary worlds from fantasy creatures.
Chloe Archer
EMAIL: chloe@chloearcher.com
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Lily Morton
SC Wynne
Shake Your Boo Thang by Chloe Archer
The Edge of Goodbye by Davidson King
Something Wicked by Lily Morton
Shadows Deceive by SC Wynne
Santa's Wish by Edie Montreux
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