Summary:
For vampire Charles Redfort, Christmas is a bitter reminder of the day he was killed by a werewolf. After fleeing the vampire army he was created to serve in, he has lived in exile in England. Once a year he allows himself to tell the truth about his life over dinner. Then he eats the man he’s hired for the night.
Blake Wells is an engineering student by day and escort by night. He works Christmas because he doesn’t want to see his father, and his mother doesn’t want to see him. When he meets Charles, he thinks he’s gotten a bonus present that he can’t wait to unwrap. But as the truth is revealed, Blake will have to think fast to live until morning and convince Charles to give up his lonely life.
For readers who like their Christmas stories with a bit of bite.
Vampires at Christmas? What is this madness? Well, The Vampire's Dinner is a beautiful story of finding something you didn't even realize you were missing. Paranormal, Christmas, and heart makes this a wonderful addition to my holiday shelf.
RATING:
The Alpha's Mate by Beth Laycock
Summary:Penhul Pack #1
Alpha of the Penhul pack with a human mate? Never going to happen.
Addison knows grief can do strange things to people, but when he’s wandering Pendle Hill and witnesses a dog leap out of thin air, he thinks he must be going crazy. When the border collie morphs into a man—a very naked man—he has to be dreaming. Only when he wakes to find himself cold and alone, locked inside a bare stone room does he wonder if it was the start of a nightmare.
As the youngest alpha the Penhul pack has ever had, Drake knows he has a lot to prove. Increasing their dwindling numbers is hard enough but convincing his pack they can do so by working alongside humans is like trying to teach an old dog new tricks. He was taught, as all familiars are, that humans can’t be trusted, especially not with their secret. It’s no surprise, then, that he has no idea what to do when a member of his own pack brings a human prisoner to their den. But he’s definitely not prepared for the reaction the human elicits from him.
Can Drake put aside their differences, and Addison come to accept their similarities, to save the Penhul pack from danger? A threat that may end up costing Drake not only his life but that of his fated mate?
Addison knows grief can do strange things to people, but when he’s wandering Pendle Hill and witnesses a dog leap out of thin air, he thinks he must be going crazy. When the border collie morphs into a man—a very naked man—he has to be dreaming. Only when he wakes to find himself cold and alone, locked inside a bare stone room does he wonder if it was the start of a nightmare.
As the youngest alpha the Penhul pack has ever had, Drake knows he has a lot to prove. Increasing their dwindling numbers is hard enough but convincing his pack they can do so by working alongside humans is like trying to teach an old dog new tricks. He was taught, as all familiars are, that humans can’t be trusted, especially not with their secret. It’s no surprise, then, that he has no idea what to do when a member of his own pack brings a human prisoner to their den. But he’s definitely not prepared for the reaction the human elicits from him.
Can Drake put aside their differences, and Addison come to accept their similarities, to save the Penhul pack from danger? A threat that may end up costing Drake not only his life but that of his fated mate?
This M/M romance from Beth Laycock features enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fated mates, sexy men that shift into adorable dogs, and of course a happy ending. Book 1 of the Penhul pack series.
Summary:
Lost and Found #1
Seven years ago
Fifteen-year-old Raffety’s freaked out from the moment he arrives at summer camp. Something isn’t right about the place, parents, kids and the counsellors. The only good thing is Jonah—and their first kiss.
Trouble is Jonah’s middle name. He can’t just ignore that Raffety clearly doesn’t belong at the camp, and risks everything to help him escape, even their budding friendship.
Jonah’s actions have damaging repercussions for both boys. Raffety returns to a very different world than the one he left, one where his mum is terrified of strangers who insist they’re pack. As for Jonah, his father decrees he’s gone too far. His memories of Raffety are wiped and Jonah’s exiled to Faerieland.
Present Day
Breaking cover for his mum’s funeral lands Raffety back in the claws of a pack that never stopped searching for him. The alpha is claiming Raffety’s an omega, and prime breeding material. Erm, no way. Raffety would rather eat his own eyeballs. He needs to figure out a way to escape—and quick.
Indentured to Paranormal Resolutions for his sins, which are many, Jonah’s ordered to extract a mark from the clutches of a pack of werewolves. The mission fills him with dread: the wolves know he stole their gold and if they catch him, they’ll eat his guts, with or without ketchup―gulp! But defying his boss isn’t an option. Not if Jonah wants to live.
Is it chance that Jonah and Raffety end up in the same trap, or is it more? Could fate be giving them both a helping hand, or have they just landed in the worst trouble of their lives?
NOTE FROM AUTHOR
A few scenes in this story appeared in a book that is no longer in publication.
In addition, it is not an Omegaverse story but the possibility of a male shifter getting pregnant is part of the plot. No on-page detail is given.
Summary:
Dragon's #3
A disappointing meeting…
Mason longed to find his own mate someday. Being the only human living amongst a pack of wolf shifters made him wish for a fated mate like the rest of his family had. When his foster brother becomes mated to a dragon, the longing becomes unbearable.
Then Mason met his mate… it was nothing like he’d hoped for.
A risk he can’t take…
Broderick knew loss all too well. During the war, it was the Stone dragons that fell the hardest. Two thousand years later, he still didn’t want to put his heart on the line again. The easiest thing to do would be to push his mate away. That way both their hearts would be spared.
But when Mason has to stay with Broderick for his own protection, it’s hard to not fall for the human.
Unfortunately, Broderick’s not the only one who realizes what a catch Mason is…
This is a short (25,000 words), sweet romance with a HEA. It contains mpreg and is the third of the Dragons Series.
The Alpha's Candy-Kissed Omega by Lorelei M Hart
Summary:Alpha Kissed #2
What better place to meet your fated mate than an extraordinary candy store?
And what better season than Halloween? Liam is arranging the amazing treats in the window of his gourmet candy shop, Sugar, when a jogger taps on the window. Despite his policy not to let strangers in when he’s alone in the closed store, this stranger is too irresistible to send away.
Edison has had his eye on the hot alpha store owner for months but has finally gathered his courage to approach him. To his relief and delight, the man of his dreams asks him out on a date. Sweet!
But when a little boy who attends the afterschool activities at Edison’s community center falls into desperate need, he is called upon to take him into his home and so a family begins. A foster child who has been so badly harmed brings challenges, and only a very strong, loving alpha would want to take on both an omega and the injured child. An unexpected pregnancy ups the ante.
They have found one another, but are things moving too fast? Can they take care of the children and each other as well as the businesses they are responsible for? Can they make a home?
The Alpha’s Candy-Kissed Omega is a MM non-shifter mpreg with a hot successful alpha, a sexy, caring omega, a little boy who needs them both and an adorable baby. Plus a surprise or two along the way.
Random Paranormal Tales of 2023
The Vampire's Dinner by TJ Nichols
SNOW WAS falling and settling on the footpath that ran through the center of the park. He wanted to be able to appreciate the swirling flakes before they melted away, but he couldn’t. The beauty was transient and would be ugly brown slush tomorrow.
Lights of every color had been strung from the trees. The tree in the center was lit up so bright he wondered if it would catch fire. He half hoped it would just so he could see the humans watching the carolers scurry.
His cane tapped on the ground as he walked, his leg stiff from the old injury. He could’ve skirted the park, but it would have taken him longer. However, as the voices of the choir carried toward him, he wished he had. Their overly saccharine songs and Christmas cheer made his fangs ache—although that could be hunger.
A snowball hit the back of his leg, and he stumbled, caught himself on his cane, and put too much weight on his bad leg. He turned, ready to growl. The kid who’d thrown the snowball smirked even as his mother apologized.
There were too many people around, and they were all here having a good time. He curled his lips in something that approximated a smile and kept walking. Christmas. He hated the cheer and the goodwill. Mostly he hated being reminded of the day he died.
The gleaming lights of the hotel greeted him from the other side of the park, and he quickened his pace. He checked his watch. He had half an hour until his evening plans would begin. If everything else went smoothly, that was plenty of time, but today had been full of delays.
Heat hit him as he walked through the hotel door. He didn’t spare a nod for the man standing there bundled up against the damp London cold.
The hotel concierge greeted him with a perky attitude that bordered on obsequious. “Mr. Redfort, we are so glad to have you back this Christmas. Your suite has been prepared. Will you be having your usual meal?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t been able to eat in over four hundred years, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to sample roast duck and Christmas pudding with brandy sauce. “That would be delightful, Peter.”
He’d made the effort to read the man’s name tag. People liked that kind of thing, and he had learned if one was very polite to the staff and left a large tip, one could literally get away with murder.
On Christmas that was exactly what he did.
Lights of every color had been strung from the trees. The tree in the center was lit up so bright he wondered if it would catch fire. He half hoped it would just so he could see the humans watching the carolers scurry.
His cane tapped on the ground as he walked, his leg stiff from the old injury. He could’ve skirted the park, but it would have taken him longer. However, as the voices of the choir carried toward him, he wished he had. Their overly saccharine songs and Christmas cheer made his fangs ache—although that could be hunger.
A snowball hit the back of his leg, and he stumbled, caught himself on his cane, and put too much weight on his bad leg. He turned, ready to growl. The kid who’d thrown the snowball smirked even as his mother apologized.
There were too many people around, and they were all here having a good time. He curled his lips in something that approximated a smile and kept walking. Christmas. He hated the cheer and the goodwill. Mostly he hated being reminded of the day he died.
The gleaming lights of the hotel greeted him from the other side of the park, and he quickened his pace. He checked his watch. He had half an hour until his evening plans would begin. If everything else went smoothly, that was plenty of time, but today had been full of delays.
Heat hit him as he walked through the hotel door. He didn’t spare a nod for the man standing there bundled up against the damp London cold.
The hotel concierge greeted him with a perky attitude that bordered on obsequious. “Mr. Redfort, we are so glad to have you back this Christmas. Your suite has been prepared. Will you be having your usual meal?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t been able to eat in over four hundred years, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to sample roast duck and Christmas pudding with brandy sauce. “That would be delightful, Peter.”
He’d made the effort to read the man’s name tag. People liked that kind of thing, and he had learned if one was very polite to the staff and left a large tip, one could literally get away with murder.
On Christmas that was exactly what he did.
The Alpha's Mate by Beth Laycock
Standing in front of the door, I peered through the barred window into the room yet couldn’t see anyone. But I knew someone was inside from the telltale tingle along my skin as the hairs on my neck lifted. I didn’t sense danger or even wariness like I usually did when I had to interact with humans. That lack of sense set me on edge. “Stay here. I’ll go in alone to see him.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
I unlocked the door and stepped inside the room. The burst of pain in my abdomen took me by surprise and I sucked in a deep breath. A reaction to a human had never happened to me before. He did make a sorry sight though. Arms clutching his knees to his chest and his head lay on top of them. Chin-length blond hair hid his face. But his scent couldn’t be concealed. The distinctive human smell filled the room.
I took another deep breath, and beneath the scent of human I smelt hints of something sweet like honey. My mouth watered at the flavour, and I staggered back at my response. This couldn’t be an ordinary human. Perhaps his ending up here wasn’t so coincidental after all. What if he had already suspected what we were? What if he’d been out on Pendle Hill looking for us?
At the scrape of my feet across the stone flags as I stepped farther into the room, his head lifted. And I found myself staring into a pair of chocolate-brown eyes that sent a rush of adrenaline through my veins and left me light-headed. Every muscle went into lockdown at my bizarre reaction to the human, and I held my breath as I stared into eyes that darkened and narrowed as they clashed with mine. The lack of submission sent a jolt down my spine and I swallowed hard, off kilter from nothing more than looking at the human. That didn’t bode well. Not at all.
“Yes, Alpha.”
I unlocked the door and stepped inside the room. The burst of pain in my abdomen took me by surprise and I sucked in a deep breath. A reaction to a human had never happened to me before. He did make a sorry sight though. Arms clutching his knees to his chest and his head lay on top of them. Chin-length blond hair hid his face. But his scent couldn’t be concealed. The distinctive human smell filled the room.
At the scrape of my feet across the stone flags as I stepped farther into the room, his head lifted. And I found myself staring into a pair of chocolate-brown eyes that sent a rush of adrenaline through my veins and left me light-headed. Every muscle went into lockdown at my bizarre reaction to the human, and I held my breath as I stared into eyes that darkened and narrowed as they clashed with mine. The lack of submission sent a jolt down my spine and I swallowed hard, off kilter from nothing more than looking at the human. That didn’t bode well. Not at all.
Double Trouble by Barbara Elsborg
Seven years ago
1
Raffety drew his bow across the strings of his violin and the room filled with the sound of a cat being strangled. Raffety winced and so did his teacher. When Raffety made the same sound again, Mr Wiston lifted the bow from the strings.
“Lovely, Raffety. Well done. Now, try once more, but run the bow along one string, not all of them.”
Well done? Really? He did try, except he was hopeless. Raffety knew he was hopeless and he knew Mr Wiston knew that he was hopeless, but he guessed teachers couldn’t actually say that to a pupil. They always had to be encouraging.
Finally, Raffety’s turn was over, and he sat down and listened as one by one the others in the group stood up to play. It was only a slight consolation they weren’t much better than him.
Ever since Raffety had watched a really hot violinist in a TV talent show, he’d desperately wanted to play the violin. Except he’d not realised how hard it was going to be. Maybe it would have helped if he’d started to learn when he was five instead of fifteen. He’d only had three lessons and now he just as desperately wanted to stop playing, but his mum had bought the second-hand violin despite the fact that they didn’t have much money and Raffety didn’t want to let her down. He told himself he’d practise over the summer holidays and if he was still hopeless in September, then he’d give up. He could always use the excuse that he had too much schoolwork, particularly with GCSEs coming up next year.
With ten minutes of the lesson remaining, Mr Wiston had clearly decided his ears had had enough. He took out his own violin and showed them how it should be done, launching into the theme from Jurassic Park. He made it look easy and also made Raffety wonder if it was even worth practising over the summer because he’d never be able to play like that.
Not that he had much else to do. Six weeks of being on his own all day while his mum worked at Telford library, Saturdays included. They’d just moved to Telford from Nottingham, after some trouble with his mum’s boyfriend. Now neither Raffety nor his mum had any friends. Though he’d not had many before. Nor had his mum. It had only ever really been just the two of them.
“Raffety, stay behind for a moment, please,” Mr Wiston said. “I’d like a word with you.”
Raffety glanced up guiltily. He hadn’t even realised his teacher had finished playing. Raffety packed away his violin, loosening the bow as he’d been taught and clipping up the black case. Then he waited. Raffety thought it might have been his imagination, but the teacher seemed to be messing around doing nothing more than straightening piles of paper until the two of them were alone. He had a sinking feeling he was going to be told off for not practising.
“I am trying,” he said apologetically.
“Raffety.” Mr Wiston stepped closer.
Too close! The guy inhaled so hard his chest visibly expanded, as if he were somehow sucking Raffety up, and Raffety automatically moved back. Oh God, weirdo alert!
Mr Wiston blinked, then smiled with his whiter-than-white teeth that always made Raffety think of a row of tiny tombstones. “Raffety, Raffety, Raffety. You have amazed me.”
His teacher had a distinct green glow, which meant he was telling the truth. Raffety knew his mouth had dropped open and he clamped his jaw shut.
“It may be early days,” Mr Wiston continued, “but you show a…raw talent the likes of which I’ve never seen before in my entire life.”
Still green. Still blinking. Was this a joke? Raffety pretended his teeth were stuck together with chewing gum in case he was tempted to let his jaw fall open again. Mr Wiston’s now faint but still green glow worried Raffety. How can he not be lying? I’m completely crap.
“This was our last lesson until September and frankly I am of the opinion that it would be a great shame to let things slide away over the summer holidays.”
Now the green had shifted partway to yellow. Not a lie, but… Is my colour guide faulty?
“I’m going to practise every day.” Raffety did some lying of his own.
Mr Wiston suddenly sniffed loudly and gasped. “Every day?”
Raffety swallowed hard. “That I can manage.”
“But better to practise under supervision. It avoids developing bad habits. And I have a solution.” His teacher brandished an envelope and grinned. “I want you to give this to your mother. It’s an invitation to a summer camp in North Yorkshire. All-expenses-paid. They’ll give you special tuition. Ensure you make the most of your considerable undeveloped talent.”
The yellow faded and the green glow intensified. Undeveloped talent? Seriously? I’m useless! What am I missing?
“Thank you.” Raffety took the letter and tucked it into his school bag. “I’ve already got plans, though.” No way was he going anywhere near a summer camp. Up at the crack of dawn? Sitting round a campfire, toasting marshmallows, singing Kumbaya? Cold showers? No TV? No way.
“It’s free, Raffety. Your mum won’t have to pay a thing.” There was a touch of worry in his teacher’s voice.
“I’m going to stay with my aunt.” He didn’t have an aunt.
“It’s not just about music. Four weeks of fun. There’s a lake. Lots of young people just like you.”
Mr Wiston had moved closer again. Raffety noticed he smelt strange, like an old wet coat, and he stepped back. Raffety had weird senses. Apart from the colour thing, he could smell stuff his mother couldn’t detect, see objects others couldn’t. He was always noticing things he’d have preferred not to notice. Like Mr Wiston’s scary teeth.
“Lots of like-minded youngsters will be going. Eleven-to-eighteen-year-olds. You’ll have a great time.” He smiled.
“Right. Okay. Thanks.”
Raffety picked up his school bag, PE kit and violin, and began to edge out of the room.
“Don’t forget to give the letter to your mum, Raffety.”
“I won’t.” Raffety finally escaped. I will.
Eleven to eighteen-year-olds? Why would he want to be anywhere near eleven-year-olds? The eighteen-year-olds might be okay though. He smiled to himself. Then, he thought some more about what the teacher had said. Undeveloped talent? It was such a lie. Raffety was completely crap. So, what was this really about?
Maybe someone knew how little he and his mother had, and felt sorry for him, thinking a four-week summer camp would be a treat. That sounded possible. His mum wouldn’t be happy accepting charity without a good reason, but if it was to benefit Raffety rather than her, she was more likely to say yes.
If Mr Wiston hadn’t talked about undeveloped talent, Raffety might have considered going. Even though there’d been no tell-tale tinge of red, which indicated a lie, Raffety thought Mr Wiston had been lying. Which led to another worry. Why hadn’t he glowed red? Had his violin teacher been brainwashed into believing what he was saying? That pulled him up short. He hadn’t considered that option before.
On the way home, he decided he definitely wouldn’t give his mother the letter. Except when she came back from work, the first words from her mouth were, “Summer camp!” Then in her jokey voice she added, “How absolutely fabulous!”
Raffety didn’t even ask her how she knew. After Mr Wiston had registered Raffety’s less than positive attitude, he’d probably phoned her. Raffety handed her the letter and watched her face.
She read it once, then read it again. “I must have missed something.”
“Such as?”
“A paragraph of tiny print saying, ‘A fee of five hundred pounds, plus your liver and kidneys, will be payable up front or on completion’.”
Raffety laughed.
“But no, this appears to be what it claims. An offer of an all-expenses-paid, four-week stay at a summer camp in Washburn Valley in North Yorkshire. All you have to do is turn up. With your violin. What do you think?” His mum gave him an eager look. “Do you want to go? Of course, you do. Beats staying here on your own, right?”
“No.”
The disappointment on her face set off an anxious nibble in his stomach. He didn’t like to make his mother unhappy. “I’m no good at the violin. I’m really not.”
“You’ve only just started. Your teacher can obviously see you have… something.”
“Mum! You’ve heard me. I’m terrible. You put earplugs in. I’ve seen you.”
“No one can expect to be an expert immediately. This camp would be so good for you, Raffety. Give you a chance to make new friends.”
“It’s miles away. I’ll never see any of them again.”
“You might. Who else from school is going?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t think anyone else is going. Mr Wiston only gave a letter to me.”
“Well, he must think you’re amazing.” His mother beamed.
I’m not amazing and I’m not going.
~~~
Jonah slammed his bedroom door so hard that his shelf shook and dislodged a clay model of an alien, made when he was a kid. It crashed to the hardwood floor and shattered, then Jonah watched as one by one, his books followed, slithering off the end of the shelf like tumbling dominoes, but making a lot more noise.
“Shit,” he hissed.
“Jonah? What was that?” his mother called from downstairs. She had the hearing of a bat.
“Nothing.”
But then his hearing was pretty good too and she was coming upstairs. She knocked on the door, and still walked straight in. Jonah could feel rage building up inside him. Again.
“Why don’t you ever wait to be invited in?” he snapped.
“I thought you’d had an accident.”
“I shouted nothing. I was obviously okay.”
He watched her gaze slide to the mess on the floor.
“Oh, Jonah. You loved that little alien.”
He had. “It was your fault,” he yelled. “If you’d been more reasonable, I wouldn’t have slammed my door, the shelf wouldn’t have rocked and that wouldn’t have happened.”
He winced as he said it, but it was too late to take it back.
“Don’t lose your temper with me, young man.”
“I’m not losing my temper,” he snarled. “I’ve already lost it.”
“Wait until your father gets home!”
“What else am I supposed to do? You never let me go anywhere.”
Oh shit. He’d just played right into her hands.
“That’s why this summer camp is such a good idea.” Her smugness was so irritating.
“No, it’s not. I don’t want to go. I’m not going. You can’t make me. I won’t—”
He jerked suddenly as his spine spasmed and white pain blasted his head. It was as if he were being twisted inside out. Breathing became impossible.
His mother was instantly at his side. “Jonah. Sweetheart! See what happens if you don’t learn to control yourself? Take a deep breath.”
She helped him over to the window, pushed it open and he leaned out, gulping in the cold night air. No, no, no, no, no. Don’t. Please. Let it stop hurting! Eventually, the pain faded and he heaved a sigh of relief.
When he turned away from the window, he was calm again.
“Okay?” She patted his arm.
He nodded. “I don’t want to go.”
“Sorry, but you have no choice. You’re the commissioner’s son. You have to set a good example.”
“I want to go to Cornwall with my schoolfriends.” He knew it was hopeless. No way would he have been allowed anywhere near Cornwall. Too much magic down there.
“You’re going to North Yorkshire.”
Almost as though he’d willed it to happen, the shelf tilted on the wall, and the rest of his books plunged to the floor. The front door slammed and both Jonah and his mother jolted.
“I’m home!” Jonah’s father shouted.
“We’re upstairs,” his wife called.
Jonah dropped to his knees and began to clear up the mess.
“What’s happened?” his father asked from the doorway.
“Jonah lost his temper. He doesn’t want to go to summer camp.”
“Are you under the illusion you actually have a choice?” His father’s tone was so chilling, Jonah felt goose bumps flash down his limbs.
“Get up,” his father said.
Jonah pushed to his feet and reluctantly faced his tall, domineering father. In a good mood, his father was great. In a bad mood, it was wise not to cross him.
“Not only are you going to go, you’re going to take part in everything and you’re going to smile and enjoy it. I expect you to volunteer whenever you can, show enthusiasm no matter what you’re asked to do, and to make friends with everyone. Every single boy and girl at the camp. Understand? If I hear you haven’t willingly participated in every solitary activity, if you get into any sort of trouble, whether it’s your fault or not, you’ll be sent to the other side to live with your grandparents. Is that clear?”
Jonah nodded. “Yes, sir. But if it’s not my fault, that’s not fair.”
“The chances of it not being your fault are small. Trouble follows you around and you encourage it. I expect perfect behaviour, perfect manners, and for you to win the award for best conduct and example. Nothing else is acceptable.” His father didn’t blink. “Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not fooled, Jonah. I can hear rebellion in your tone. This is more critical than I can tell you. There are signs of something coming, something important and the Council don’t know yet whether it’s good or bad, but it will affect us all. Every non-human. Eyes and ears are needed. You have a responsibility, as my son, to work to the same ends as I do. One day you might take my place on the Council. With great power, comes great responsibility. Do not let me down.”
Jonah so wanted to kick the door when his parents left his room, but he didn’t. He closed it gently, then flung himself on his bed. My life sucks!
Dragon's Stone by Jena Wade
Chapter One
Mason
I sat at the edge of the pond on the wolf pack property, skipping stones, pocketing ones I could use later for carving. I tried to keep my mind blank─not thinking about him. My mate. The one that rejected me.
For the past ten years, while living with the wolf pack, I’d dreamt of finding a mate, belonging to another person, being their one and only. I'd fantasized about it for years. I'd even saved my virginity for the possibility of having a mate someday, only to find out my mate was not a wolf like I’d assumed he’d be. My mate was a dragon; and a mean one at that.
The only memory I had of Broderick was him glaring at me, then storming out of the room. That was the only time I’d seen him. I wish now that I'd never met him, never known this pull I felt toward him. Toward a man who didn't even want me.
It had been two months since I'd left Dragon Headquarters, as the five remaining dragons in the world affectionately referred to their compound. The place reminded me a lot of our wolf pack’s compound. It had been quite an adjustment at age fourteen to learn that wolf-shifters and other paranormal type creatures existed in the world.
I'd never forget the night that my adopted mother explained it all to me. She sat me down, told me about wolf-shifters and witches, and then asked if I was sure I wanted to be adopted by them. Of course I wanted to be adopted. I wanted a family more than anything in the world. I couldn’t care less if they turned into wolves or chickens or ducks. They were family.
I didn't know who my biological parents were. The records were sealed, and I saw no reason to go out looking for them. After all, they had abandoned me at birth. Why would they want me now that I was grown?
“Hey,” a voice said.
I recognized it immediately as my adopted brother Jericho, the Alpha of our pack.
“Hey,” I said. I continued to stare at the pond, not taking my eyes off the flat water.
Jericho sat down next to me. “I'm taking you back to Dragon Headquarters.”
I whipped my head around. “What? Why?”
Jericho took a deep breath and sat up straight, it was a motion that I’d seen him do plenty of times, when he was centering himself to defend a decision he’d made as our Alpha. A decision that not everyone would agree with. “Technically, you are one of the dragons’ mates. And I think you should spend some time with Broderick, to see if you two can work things out.”
“No.” I shook my head. “He doesn't want me. He doesn’t want a mate at all. I'm not going to force it. And I don’t want to be around him.” Don’t want to be rejected by him again.
“I understand that, but there's also the fact that you’re a dragon’s mate and Molpe is out there kidnapping dragons’ mates. You'll be safer there. Molpe already admitted that she and her vampire can't break into their property. Whereas here, they've already kidnapped from our compound once. I don't want to take that risk.”
“Then why let me stay here for the past two months if you were just going to send me back there?”
Jericho ran a hand through his hair. “I'd hoped that your mate would come to his senses, but he hasn’t yet. He hasn’t even returned to their property.”
My shoulders sagged. I wasn’t going to change his mind. “I still don't understand why I have to go.”
“It's just temporary,” Jericho said. “I want you to be safe, and we’re wearing ourselves pretty thin having extra guards posted for every shift.”
That was news to me. “You’ve had the betas running extra shifts?”
Jericho nodded. “I don’t want to take any chances with your safety. With Molpe still at large, we need to remain vigilant.”
My stomached tightened into knots. While I’d sat around the last two months moping about my mate not wanting me, the rest of the pack had pulled double-duty to keep me safe. I felt like a tool.
“I'll bring you back home once we take care of Molpe and that vampire, I promise.”
“I’ll go. When do we leave?” I asked. I couldn’t let my pack suffer for my safety.
“In a of couple hours. I've got to check on Cody and make sure his care is set up.”
I nodded. Cody still hadn't come out of his coma. But thanks to the fluids and rest he was getting, his vitals remained stable and he’d put on some weight. He’d been kidnapped over a year ago by Molpe. It was only when Gale, one of the dragons, had been tricked into going to Molpe’s cave that he was rescued.
“I have to run to the shop,” I said. “Pick up my tools. I don't know how long I'll be gone, so I'll make arrangements with Patty.”
Jericho stood. “All right, I'll meet you at the house in a bit then, okay?” He laid a hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him. “It's going to be okay, Mason. I promise. I know it seems bleak now, having a mate that you can't reach out to, but it's going to get better. It has to get better.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks, Jericho.”
He nodded and turned away.
I felt like an ass. I wasn't the only one in the world with a mate they couldn't actually connect with. I'd long suspected that Cody was Jericho’s mate, and seeing the anguish he'd gone through the past several months only confirmed it for me.
I stood up, dusted myself off, and squared my shoulders. If I was going to face my mate, I would do it with my head held high. Although, I had no idea what I would say to him if he was standing in front of me right now. Maybe I’d ask him why. Was it me or him?
I'm going to assume it's him.
I made my way back to the compound and grabbed the keys to my car. It was a Chevy Aveo, a compact car, but quite functional and it got great gas mileage, which worked out well living forty-five minutes from everywhere.
When I arrived at the store where I sold some of my carvings, Patty was working the front desk. She waved hello to me and I waved back. I made a beeline for the backroom, so I could grab my tools and be on my way. Of course, I'd let Patty know that I'd be leaving, but I wanted to be as quick as I could.
When I went back into the front room, she had just finished with her customer.
“Hi, Patty,” I said.
“Hi, Mason.” She didn’t smile, her eyes had a misty look to them, like she held back tears.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Jericho called me and told me that you'd be gone for a little while.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Apparently I'm going to go stay with the dragons. It'll give me a chance to hang out with my brother, Frost. That will be nice.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but we'll miss you around here.”
“I'll be back, eventually,” I said. I had no expectations that Broderick would see me for the second time and determine that I was worthy of being his mate, or get over whatever the fuck his hang-up was. If he didn't want me, I wasn't going to dwell on it. I'd continue living my life.
“You'll still send me some of your work, right?” She asked.
“Yeah, some of the smaller pieces should ship easily enough, and we can always post the bigger ones online and I can ship them to the buyer from wherever the heck I'm gonna be.”
“Okay,” she said. “Give me a hug before you go.”
She hugged me tightly and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Be a good boy.”
“Okay.” I smiled. I had long since stopped being a boy, but that's okay. “I promise.”
As I left the shop, I ran right into another person I needed to say goodbye to. Instantly I recognized the thick cologne.
“Peter,” I said. “I'm glad I ran into you.”
Peter had been one of my regular customers for the past two months. He always came in to see what my latest piece was. For a brief moment, I’d thought maybe he had some sort of romantic interest in me. But he'd never crossed the line from friendly to anything else. So, I must have been mistaken. Not that I was interested anyway. Having a mate out there meant that I wasn't going to be with anyone else, ever. Whether my mate claimed me or not, I’d be loyal to him.
“Oh?” Peter raised a dark brow. His black hair was short and always perfectly cut and styled. It matched his pale face and high cheekbones. The man could be a model for something luxurious, Gucci or Calvin Klein. He had always struck me as sophisticated, though I didn’t know what he did as a career. “Where are you headed off to? Shouldn't you be working right now?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I’m going out of town for a little bit. I don't know when I'll be back.”
“Oh, really?” He asked. The corner of his lips twitched like he was going to smile, but he didn't. “Still pining for that guy you told me about? Please don’t tell me you’re going to let him get away with how he treated you?”
Something told me to keep my exact destination a secret, after all, this man wasn’t a pack member. He was just friendly. I’d told him a humanized version of my interaction with Broderick, without explaining that we were mates and destined to be together.
I shrugged. “Just hanging out with some friends out east.”
That was the general direction I'd be going, but it was about as a vague as I could be.
The wind picked up at that moment and blew his coat open. He wore a pair of dark slacks, with a black t-shirt. My eyes were immediately drawn to his necklace. A deep purple crystal hung from a chain around his neck. When he caught me staring, he closed his coat.
“I'll miss you.” He stepped toward me and I almost took a step back instinctually, like he was some sort of predator, but I stopped myself.
I smiled. It felt nice to be wanted, knowing that someone wanted to be around me even my mate didn’t.
“Well, Patty will still have all of my work here for you to take a look at, and as a regular you can have first dibs, I promise.”
“Oh, I won't just be missing your work, Mason. I'll be missing you as well.”
My cheeks burned with a blush that made me want to cringe. I didn't know what to say to that, so I just smiled. “Well, I've got to get going. Jericho is waiting for me.”
“Here,” he said. “Take my card.” He pulled out a business card and scribbled a number on the back. “That's my personal cell. Text me or call me sometime. At least let me know when you'll be back in town.”
“All right,” I said. “I'll do that.” I pulled out my phone and entered his number, then sent him a quick, “Hi.”
“There. Now you've got my number too.”
“Excellent.” He grinned wide, his pearly white teeth practically shining in the sunlight. Much to my surprise, he gave me a quick hug and kissed my cheek. “I'll really miss you, Mason.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” I said and walked away.
***
Jericho was waiting outside our house with a suitcase next to him when I got back to the compound.
“Are we taking my car?” I asked.
He nodded, picked up the suitcase, and tossed it in the trunk. “Yeah. I figured you would need a car there.”
“How are you going to get back?”
“Armant is coming back with me. We’ll be flying.”
My eyes widened. “You get to fly on a dragon? Do you think—" I bit my lip and looked down.
“You want to fly on a dragon?” He grinned.
“Yeah,” I said. “It would be amazing. Do you think one of them will let me?”
His smile fell. “I'm not sure that's the best idea. Unless—”
“Unless Broderick says it's okay.” I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew it would be disrespectful to him as both my brother and Alpha of the pack.
“Yeah, I doubt he'll let you fly on any other dragon.”
“Well, then I just won’t ask his permission. I am sure one of the others will let me.”
I went inside and quickly packed up some clothes and any personal items I would need. I made sure to have my spare set of tools and my sketchbook. I would have a lot of time on my hands at Dragon Headquarters. I could get quite a bit of work done. Maybe they would let me explore the property and see what sort of stone I could find to carve.
Jericho leaned against the driver’s side door when I walked out again, suitcase in hand. He grabbed the suitcase from me, then paused.
“What?” I asked.
He shook he head. “Nothing. Just thought I smelled something, but it’s gone now. You don't have to go, you know,” he said. “I'm not forcing you. You just say the word and you can stay here, we’ll make something work.”
I nodded. “I know. But it’s not fair to the pack for me to cause so much extra work. If it's too hard to be there, to be around Broderick, I'll come home. I promise.”
“I really think Broderick just needs time. There is no way to deny the mate pull, at least not for wolf shifters. I doubt dragons are any different. The Fates didn't give us these gifts for us to deny them.”
I shrugged one shoulder, unsure of what to say. Not being a shifter myself, it was hard to understand. While I did feel the pull toward Broderick, it was manageable, and largely overshadowed by the fact that he had stormed out of the room at the first sight of me. It was hard to imagine coming back from that.
I hopped into the passenger side. Jericho slid into the driver's seat.
“I'll take the first shift,” he said. “You can navigate.”
“Onward to adventure,” I said and smiled, though my heart wasn’t in it.
The Alpha's Candy-Kissed Omega by Lorelei M Hart
Chapter One
Liam Delmonico
October first...an hour before dawn...my wait was finally over. Sure, all the holidays were great and as the owner of Sugar, a boutique candy store, I was able to indulge in my love for them. I got orders for my Mother’s Day long-stemmed triple-chocolate roses from thousands of miles away. Stockings filled with miniature truffles for Christmas. Valentine’s Day...don’t get me started. But Halloween was my personal favorite.
My staff and I had already created trays of everything from teensy, intense dark chocolate bats to white chocolate—not my favorite, but some of our customers loved it—to hand-painted terrifying clowns. We would begin shipping them out later in the week, packed in our special overnight mini-chill chests. It didn’t take much heat to ruin chocolate’s perfection or, horrors, to have it bloom, that whitish film all chocolatiers dread.
While we specialized in chocolate items, we made many other kinds of sweet delights. Candies of all kinds. Everything prepared on site from the highest quality ingredients. We had even surrendered, at special request, for that most pedestrian of treats, a copper kettle setup, right inside the shop, where twice a day Hazel, our fudge-maker supreme, prepared her grandmother’s recipes for old-fashioned creamy squares of mouthwatering awesomeness while customers watched.
As I trundled the cart we’d set up the night before toward the front window, I flicked on the lights in the shop. Outside, the last leaves of autumn skittered along the sidewalk and the sky was just starting to brighten to the east. We’d cleared the display before going home, so I had a blank canvas for my creation.
Trace, Hazel’s husband, a remarkable man who’d not batted an eye when he learned the woman of his dreams was once a star football player named Harry, had as usual come up with the painted elements we required. Although his artwork garnered tens of thousands at auction, he painted backdrops and just about anything we wanted and wouldn’t take a dime in return. He only requested we didn’t let anyone know he was doing it, which made perfect sense.
This year, we had a full haunted house display, six-foot-tall facade and open windows in which our delights could reside. Thus the bats, vampires, witches, ghosts, and other denizens of the night. The moon hanging over it was made entirely of divinity, the spiderwebs, spun sugar, and even the graveyard soil consisted of crumbled midnight-chocolate cookies, one of our few baked items. I stepped back and clicked on the October playlist I’d compiled, a combination of heavy classical music and mostly retro tunes from bands like Oingo Boingo who I felt had the season down to an art. Unable to resist, I did have a few short segments of spooky sounds.
As “Dead Man’s Party” filled the shop, I sang along, arranging my treats and feeling the Halloween spirit fill me. Thus absorbed, and with the inside lights making it hard to see the predawn street outside, I didn’t notice the man staring in until he rapped on the window, making me jump at least two feet in the air.
He leaned closer to the window, pointing at something, and saying words I of course could not hear through thick plate glass. After one particularly weird experience with a nutritionist who wanted to lecture me on how I was responsible for all the ills of the world, calling me a dealer in death, my staff had made me promise not to let strangers in after hours, but this “stranger” was pretty cute.
Although he looked like a guy out for an early morning run, his tight shorts outlined an impressive package, and the grin on his handsome face was knee melting. So...another health nut wanting to tell me the error of my ways, or a guy who exercised to allow the pleasure of a few extra calories into his life? Maybe I could just talk through a crack in the door until I determined who I was dealing with. A lock of hair flopping over his forehead, a weakness of mine, decided it for me, and I moved out of the window toward the door, pointing to it as I did. Twisting the lock, I swung the door open and stuck my head out.
“We’re not open yet.” Cuz, you know, dawn and the closed sign didn’t give that away.
“Oh, I know, and I am sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to tell you how much I loved your display. I run by here all the time, and always think it’s great. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to let the creator of candy greatness know this.”
And the voice matched the face, matched the body. Smooth as molasses and rich as 75% cocoa dark chocolate. A little shiver raced up my spine. “How nice of you. Window dressing is one of my favorite parts of the job, I have to admit.”
“Those little bats are killer. All the detail. And the webs...wow.”
“Want to come in for a minute and get a better look?” Sorry, staff. This guy got me. I opened the door wide.
“Oh, no. You’re busy. I wasn’t trying to finagle my way into chocolate heaven.”
I wasn’t a swooner, but if I had been, I’d have been laid out on the floor. “Get in here. Now.” My inner alpha was taking over, planning dinner dates and dancing, sunset cocktails on the beach.
Luckily, he didn’t think I was a nut giving orders to strangers because he stepped inside and drew a deep breath. “Wow. It smells amazing in here.”
I grabbed a chair from one of the cafe tables and brought it over by my working area. “Doesn’t it? I think that every morning when I come in. Have a seat, and we can talk while I finish up.”
“If you’re sure it’s no trouble?”
“None at all. I have a pot of coffee in the back if you’d like a cup.”
He grinned again and I knew I’d do a lot to keep seeing that. “You’re a lifesaver. I never let myself have mine until after my run, but I think I can call it officially over.” He disappeared into the employees’ only section and returned with a steaming mug of my own mocha java blend. “Can I help you with anything?”
I shrugged. “If you don’t mind, you can hand me things. Once I get to the other side of the window, I have to keep climbing in and out, so that would be great. If you don’t mind.”
“No,” he said shaking his head slowly. “I don’t mind at all.”
Urban Fantasy where the hero always gets his man.
TJ Nichols is the author of the Studies in Demonology and Familiar Mates series. They write mostly gay fantasy and paranormal romance. After traveling all over the world and Australia, TJ now lives in Perth, Western Australia.
Beth Laycock’s books are influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the north of England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.
As a teenager, she attempted to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling them down since.
Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she can turn caffeine into words.
Beth’s books range from sweet to sexy, long to short, contemporary to paranormal, but a HEA is always guaranteed.
As a teenager, she attempted to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling them down since.
Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she can turn caffeine into words.
Beth’s books range from sweet to sexy, long to short, contemporary to paranormal, but a HEA is always guaranteed.
Barbara Elsborg lives in Kent in the south of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Volcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.
After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop.
Her earlier books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, now she concentrates on the bad boys, and hopes her books are as much fun to read as they are to write.
Jena began writing in January of 2013 as a New Year's Resolution--and so far she has stuck to it!
She lives in Michigan. By day she works as a web developer, and at night she writes. Born and raised on a farm, she spends most of her free time outdoors, playing in the garden, or riding her horses. She also helps run the family dairy farm.
She lives in Michigan. By day she works as a web developer, and at night she writes. Born and raised on a farm, she spends most of her free time outdoors, playing in the garden, or riding her horses. She also helps run the family dairy farm.
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 ;).
TJ Nichols
AUDIBLE / AUDIOBOOKS / CHIRP / KOBO
EMAIL: tjnichols.author@gmail.com
Beth Laycock
EMAIL: beth@bethlaycock.com
Barbara Elsborg
Double Trouble by Barbara Elsborg
Dragon's Stone by Jena Wade
The Alpha's Candy-Kissed Omega by Lorelei M Hart
