Caspian, the Atlantean God of Justice, has devoted his eternal life to protecting the merfolk. He has no time for romance, not even when the merman he now watches over is his former lover reincarnated.
Phoebus, a merman living in the sunken city of Atlantis before the Atlanteans were banished, never intended to fall for Caspian, the most promiscuous of all the gods. Yet, when Caspian offers him immortality, Phoebus doesn’t know if he can pay the price, even if refusing means breaking the heart of a god.
Back in the present, Marin remembers the love he once had for Caspian, but he’s not the same merman now. Caspian might have loved him as Phoebus, but he knows the god cannot give him what he needs.
Marin doesn’t want Caspian’s protection. He wants revenge, and he is prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice to get it, even if it means breaking Caspian’s heart a second time.
Excerpt
“Caspian, there you are.” Cari breezed into the room and settled herself onto the chaise. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
Caspian sipped his wine before answering his sister. “Well, now you’ve found me.”
Cari helped herself to a glass of her own. “Since when do you travel to this part of the world?”
“I needed some time alone,” Caspian replied. Rafe’s jealousies had pushed him to his limit today, so he had escaped to a small province in Italia for a little peace and quiet. Hiding from his priest wasn’t difficult, but avoiding his sister was another matter entirely.
“Rafe?” Cari asked.
“You know I don’t like it when you poke into my head.” He managed to block most of the immortals from his mind, but his sister appeared to have the ability to bypass all his defenses. He supposed it came from being the Goddess of Prophecy.
“I didn’t,” Cari replied. “But when I checked your palace, he was ranting about some merman you’d fucked. I simply drew my own conclusions.”
“I didn’t fuck him.”
“Rafe seems to think otherwise.”
Caspian rolled his eyes. “Rafe was present in the room the entire time. He is well aware of what we did.”
Cari huffed. “Did you ever think that your priest might not get quite so jealous if you didn’t make him watch you with other men?”
“The merman was having trouble breaking his mating fever. He came to me for help, we broke his fever and he returned to the ocean. That was it.”
“What was his name?”
“Who? The merman?”
“Yes, him.”
“Phoebus. Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious. I spoke to Mother this morning.”
“And what did she have to say for herself?”
“She told me Medina had slipped you a love potion.”
“Apparently. She added something to my wine, but I don’t know what. She was probably bluffing.”
Cari laughed briefly. “Don’t you know by now that Medina never bluffs?”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to have had much of an impact on me. Probably she isn’t as good at brewing up mischief as she likes to think.”
Cari sipped her wine. “You never did figure out the difference between a love potion and one that simply inspires lust.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if she’d given you the latter, which is what she hands out to most who seek her services, you’d be fucking that young merman right now. A true love potion, on the other hand, takes time to work, just like real love takes time to grow.”
“What are you saying? You think I’m going to fall in love with someone? The merman?”
“Like it or not, you are about to discover what falling in love is like.”
“I think I’ll let that particular experience pass me by, thank you all the same.”
“You seem to be laboring under the mistaken belief you have a choice in the matter.”
“I do.”
Cari finished her glass of wine and poured herself another. “I took a peek into your future after I spoke to Mother.”
“I suppose telling you I don’t want to know about my future would be pointless?”
“It would.”
“Very well. Tell me what you saw, and if I don’t like it, I’ll do what I need to so I can change it.”
“You can’t alter course mid-stream.”
“Says who?”
“Fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe in. You’ve met Phoebus, and been intimate with him, just hours after drinking Medina’s concoction.”
“He only sucked me.”
“That’s more than enough to trigger the potion. Chances are, if it’s one of Medina’s brews, the touch of your hand to his would have been enough.”
“I’m probably never going to see him again,” Caspian said, even though the thought of a second encounter with the merman made his heart race.
“I assure you, you’ll be seeing him very soon. He’s a nice man and I think he’ll be very good for you.”
“Why are you and Mother so eager to see me settled down with just one man? I’m perfectly happy as I am.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
Cari shook her head. “When you’ve fallen for him, when you’re head over heels, desperately in love with him, you’ll know what perfect happiness is.”
“Oh, please.” Caspian rolled his eyes.
“You’ll see.”
About the Author
L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances. She believes mermen live in the undiscovered areas of the ocean. She believes life exists on other planets. She believes in fairy tales, magic, and dreams. Most of all, she believes in love.
When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.
Trix is one of many felines who sells his body on the Pleasure Station, a space station devoted to entertainment, gambling, and the pleasures of the flesh. He’d never intended to spend his life there, but the place offers him security, regular cream, and over time it has become his home.
As a dual-gendered feline, Trix knows the risk of pregnancy is high, and sets his prices equally high to discourage customers. Trix never imagines that Delta, a canine with credits to spare will call his bluff.
When Delta pays for himself and Farron, a naïve avian from the swan clan, to spend the night with Trix, the three of them forge an unexpected bond, one that leaves Trix pregnant.
As a swan avian, Farron is incapable of being unfaithful to his mate, even when the bond is only partially formed. To complete the mating ritual, Farron must find Trix before the babies are born, or the bond will break forever, and Farron will be forced to live a life of celibacy.
When the Pleasure Station falls under new ownership, and the humans ban prostitution, Trix is left homeless. Upon hearing about this, Delta too races back to find Trix.
Both Farron and Delta arrive too late. Trix has vanished and the race is on to find him before he gives birth. Only then will they know if the bond they formed on their first night is strong enough to last a lifetime.
Excerpt
Two games in and Trix heard the voice of one of the more annoying felines working at the Pleasure Station. Like Trix, Brak was a working whore with a preference for male cocks. He was also a bigot, and for some reason had issues with dual-gendered felines. Which meant he had issues with Trix.
“What are you doing working the tables Trixi?” Brak asked.
Trix hissed at him, ignoring the question. He’d give his right testicle to know who had told Brak his parents had named him Trixi. He hadn’t told anyone that since he’d left Furyne. He supposed someone must have recognised him while passing through.
“Trixi?” the swan avian asked. “Isn’t that a female name?”
Trix sighed. Because the avian was a customer, Trix was obliged to answer his question. “Yes, it is.”
“Why do you have a feminine name?”
“My father thought my name should reflect what I am.”
“What do you mean?”
Brak laughed as he leaned on the table. “Trixi isn’t a male,” he stage-whispered.
Trix dealt the next round of cards as his face heated, more with fury than embarrassment.
“He looks male,” the avian replied. “Are you sure?”
The canine snorted. “He is male. He’s also sitting right there and getting more pissed off by the minute.”
Trix hadn’t realised his annoyance was so obvious. He’d thought he was hiding it quite well.
“I’m sorry,” the avian offered. “I’m not from around here.”
“That’s obvious,” the canine replied. “What our uninvited guest here is hinting, is that Trix is dual-gendered.”
From the confusion on the avian’s face, that didn’t help explain matters for him.
Thankfully for Trix, Brak was there to open his big mouth and clarify things in his own special way. “Trixi has a cock and a pussy, which means he can literally fuck himself.”
“Actually, no, we can’t do that,” Trix pointed out with a hiss of anger. He usually didn’t bother to correct Brak, but this avian was hanging on his every word and looked naive enough to believe him. “It just means I have both male and female sex organs.”
The canine smirked at him. “That’s not quite all it means, is it?”
Trix noticed the falcons collecting their credits and leaving the table. Damn. Valerie was going to be annoyed with him for driving away her players.
“What else does it mean?” the avian asked.
Trix sighed. “It means I can carry a litter of babies.”
Brak laughed. “During which time, Trixi becomes a female.”
“I do not!” Damn it, why couldn’t Brak go annoy someone else? And why was he even bothering to explain all this to some ignorant avian? “I’m dual-gendered whether I’m pregnant or not. It’s just a little more obvious when someone like me is pregnant.”
“How obvious?” the avian asked.
The canine snorted and shook his head. “Are you really that stupid?”
“I…”
“He’ll get a nice big pregnant belly and grow breasts so he can feed the babies. There are probably other signs too, but those are the obvious ones.”
“Not that real males want to have anything to do with his kind,” Brak added. “You have to feel sorry for them, really.”
“I don’t need your false sympathy,” Trix snarled, at the same time the avian asked why.
Brak ignored Trix to focus on the question. “It’s like this, you see. For those who prefer the female form, hard chests and cocks aren’t what they’re looking for. Yet for those who desire males, they run the risk of accidentally shoving their cocks into the wrong hole.” He gave an exaggerated shudder as though the very thought of a vagina was repulsive to him. “Imagine, you’ve got to know him, you’re just getting intimate, then you slip your fingers between his legs only to find he’s really a mutant.”
Trix hissed across the table. “Did you really just call me a mutant?”
Brak shrugged. “Are you telling me that you’ve never had a customer recoil from you after discovering what you are?”
The sad truth was that he couldn’t. It had happened all too often, as Brak was well aware. While those who preferred females gave him a wide berth, the ones who preferred males could be particularly cruel with their rejections. Brak wasn’t the only one who believed Trix wasn’t a real male and refused to accept his gender identity because of his bigoted beliefs.
About the Author
L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances. She believes mermen live in the undiscovered areas of the ocean. She believes life exists on other planets. She believes in fairy tales, magic, and dreams. Most of all, she believes in love.
When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.
Themes: Heartbreak of betrayal, hurt/comfort, possession, falling in love,
revenge, trust issues, murderer, ambition, sexual awakening, self-acceptance
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Blurb
London, 1680. For the young Charles Rochester, Marquess of Bolton and heir to the Duke of Norfolk, desiring another man is unacceptable. His fierce attraction to the new scullery boy must be suffocated at all cost. But it’s not easy to silence your heart when the people who should understand you end up betraying you, and the only one loyal seems to be the one you’re desperately trying to avoid.
But Dorian Pratt knows he’s hopelessly lost the second he first lays eyes on his new master. As a lowly servant, he understands he can never have him, but he can’t stop his body—and heart—from reacting to the dark, handsome nobleman.
When dangerous secrets hidden within the walls of Norfolk Manor come to light, everything collapses. Charles has only one hope for hanging onto Dorian, but to make it work he must be prepared to sacrifice the most valuable gift God has bestowed upon him: his very humanity.
Sins will not be forgiven and there’s always a price to pay when blood is spilled.
Warning: Due to some raw content of a violent nature which some may find upsetting, as well as the depiction of graphic sex between men, Rise of a Nobleman is recommended only for consenting adults.
Excerpt
Charles was still standing in the doorway, arms at his sides, fists clenched. The semi-darkness was masking part of his face, rendering his expression inscrutable. But Charles was looking directly at him, that much Dorian saw clearly. Too clearly.
“What are you doing, standing there like an idiot?”
“Nothing, my Lord.” Just waiting for my heart to start beating again.
Since he couldn’t tell him he planned to wait as long as it took for Charles to stop staring at him, he had little choice but walk towards him. He did it with his head down again, because he honestly couldn’t bear being close to him, in range of that turbid, caustic essence lurking in his eyes.
“If you have no objections, I’d like to go to bed. It’s late and—”
Lord Bolton didn’t let him finish. He grabbed young Pratt’s arm and twisted it behind his back, shoving him against the door jamb.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he hissed in his ear. The depraved edge to his voice made Dorian’s heart rear up in his chest. Swollen with excitement and fear, it was pushing against his ribs, and he was suddenly at a complete loss. All he knew was that he was trapped, chest pressed against the wooden door frame, Lord Bolton’s hands finally all over him.
“I’ll teach you not to look at me like that,” Charles snarled through his hair before pushing it off his face. “Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?”
Oh, God!
He had to get out of there. Slip out of his grip as soon as possible, before he lost control of his body. He was already feeling it in his groin—the fire Rochester had lit was already making his balls throb.
His reply was desperate, a whisper, a tiny, brazen lie: “You’re mistaken.”
“Oh, that’s how it is, then? You have the nerve to tell me it’s not true?” The next moment he felt something firm pressing against his buttocks. Something hot and shameless. Charles’s rock-hard erection.
Dorian’s lips parted in a surprised moan. The air escaped his lungs and treacherous arousal rose all the way to his throat, breaking his voice and his willpower.
“No…” I don’t know. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t spying on you on purpose.”
“But you did. You always do.”
About the Author
Valentina C. Brin is a self-published Italian author who lives in Padua with her partner and their four pudgy cats. She enjoys writing both MM and MF books, especially angsty ones. Powerful, dark, sexy stories are sort of her thing, and her psychology degree comes in handy for crafting twisted characters that never fail to surprise her many readers. Rise of a Nobleman is her debut novel and the first in her dark historical MM series.
A death that wasn’t what it seemed… A kidnapping that isn’t what it seems… Time is running out. The morning after his wedding night, Prince Marcelo thought he’d be embarking on a journey to his own personal fairytale happily ever after with his husband, Efren, the crown prince of Zioneven. But when news arrives indicating his sister’s death wasn’t as accidental as previously thought, that journey becomes fraught with danger. Enmeshed in political intrigue, death, and a kidnapping that might not be what it seems, will Efren untangle the web of misleading clues in time to save the naïve young man he’s already come to admire, or will Marcelo dig deep to discover a previously untapped inner strength and determination to facilitate his own survival?
Excerpt
Chapter 3: …Oft Go Awry
Efren
Efren blinked rapidly as he came awake with a start. He stared into the darkness and mentally shook the cobwebs from his mind. What had awoken him? Marcelo lay softly breathing in his arms, as relaxed and peaceful as only the innocent can truly be.
Around him, the night was silent. Too silent? He strained to hear the patrols rustling through the grasses, or the faint trills of their signals to each other.
A breeze swirled through the branches of the trees in the distance, rippling the leaves. Crickets chirped, apparently unconcerned about whatever either was or wasn’t going on in the meadow.
And footsteps. Quiet, approaching footsteps. It must be time for the shift change. That’s what had awoken him. Efren relaxed and nestled Marcelo tighter against him. One at a time, the guards would come in and wake their replacements.
Except—Efren tensed, then maneuvered his arm out from under Marcelo’s head and eased himself from under the blankets—the footsteps, furtively stopping and restarting, were approaching from multiple directions.
Efren shivered as goosebumps rose on his naked skin in the chilled night air and soundlessly slipped his broadsword and knife from their leather scabbard. He glanced at Marcelo, still sleeping, although less serenely with the sudden loss of the warm body next to him.
Guilt pinged his core as he shook off a strong desire to waken and forewarn Marcelo, but he pushed it down. Marcelo, completely untrained in warfare, would be safer in here. He seemed a heavy sleeper, likely incorporating outside noises into his dreams, unused to a need to be readily alert. He might even doze through the skirmish.
Or was that just wishful thinking? Because there’d be no hope that Marcelo could escape unseen, if it came to that.
Surely it would be better for such an innocent to be killed in his sleep, or with scarcely a brief moment of shock beforehand than to spend minutes quaking in terror, unable to defend himself.
Efren shook off his doubts and quickly pushed out the weighty flap, sword raised ready, and opened his mouth to yell an alert to awaken any of his warriors who hadn’t already sensed the looming danger, same as he had. But the breath he drew to strengthen his voice instead choked him.
He’d never before smelled these fumes, but the pungent, wet-dog odor had been described to him. The material of their tents was heavily treated to keep the toxin producing that odor from permeating the walls and closed flaps.
Icy apprehension slithered across Efren’s skin before settling in the pit of his gut. This was a completely unexpected development. The alchemists from the kingdom of Proye who’d developed this toxin—and unfailingly guarded the recipe—called it “Knockout.”
As Efren’s sword arm dropped, followed swiftly by his eyes rolling back in his head and his body slumping in a boneless crumple, a corner of his brain recognized how fittingly it was named, and hoped that enough of it had entered the tent through the briefly opened flap that Marcelo would succumb before Proye agents executed whatever they had planned. They’d been married for less than two days, and already he’d failed his innocent, young husband.
Copyright 2019 Addison Albright
About the Author
Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay romance in contemporary, fantasy, and paranormal genres. She generally adds a subtle touch of humor, a smidgen of drama/angst, and a healthy dose of slice-of-life to her stories. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.
Aleksander is short-tempered, antisocial, and though he’s unaware of it, wildly sexy. He’s also a naturally dominant shape shifting monster who’s sliding into madness. He needs a human ‘grounder’ to submit to him and draw forth his protective human side. Instead, he is given two humans: Constance, a fledgling sub with a reckless streak whose intense desire to serve has brought her nothing but heartache, and Kirk, a former NYPD cop who’s trying to subdue his own alpha instincts and play submissive in order to fulfill a family debt. But once these grounders meet their new master, they quickly discover that in order to save Aleksander from himself, they must alter their assigned roles and form a unique triad of domination and submission that goes against Aleksander’s very nature.
Features M/M, M/F, M/M/F
Excerpt
Aleksander wanted to touch her breasts, wanted their heavy weight to sit in his palms or rest against his cheeks. Though Kirk’s head blocked the sight of his lips, Aleksander could imagine, merely from the sounds, how it would feel to suckle Constance’s pink nipples. They would rest tenderly on his tongue, be plump enough for him to squeeze his lips around and tug. A scrape of teeth, and she would gasp—just like that. Aleksander ripped one of his hands out from under him and thrust it against his groin.
“Useless,” Kirk murmured against her skin. “She’s utterly useless to you, Sascha.”
Fortunately for the human, Aleksander was too aroused to summon the energy to yell at him for using the nickname again. He only wished Kirk would shut up and put his mouth to better use. It inspired a thought.
“Kiss down her stomach,” he ordered.
He watched them tense, Constance lifting her head enough to look at him in astonishment, Kirk hovering, unmoving over her body. Then Kirk chuckled, very softly, and Aleksander understood his amusement. He had tricked Aleksander into responding. Well, Aleksander thought hotly, the trick will soon be on you.
“Both of you remove your clothes,” he said, barely hiding his smile. He felt devious and intensely aroused. “If you are to properly ground me, you should be dressed for the occasion. Or not, in this instance.”
“Aleksander,” Constance breathed, her chest heaving. Her nipples were tight and gleamed with wetness from Kirk’s mouth. Aleksander was ferociously jealous, but he would get his in time.
For now, he stared hard at the back of Kirk’s head, half hoping the human would refuse. Kirk was more naturally dominant than submissive, and Aleksander didn’t understand why he was here, playing at being a grounder. But if he was content to place himself in Aleksander’s control—Aleksander would happily make Kirk regret it.
“If we’re naked, then you should be, too,” Kirk said, finally turning his head to the side, though not enough that he could make eye contact with Aleksander.
Aleksander smirked, pleased that he’d read Kirk right. The other male was trying to assert control, but he would fail. “I’m not the one submitting to a chimera. Or are you not, either?”
About the Author
Tricia Owens has been writing m/m fiction since 2000, after stumbling onto the term ‘slash’ and thinking it referred to horror stories. She is the author of the Sin City, A Pirate’s Life for Me, and Juxtapose City series, among several others. She lives in Las Vegas.
Some think him a devoted son, a ruthless killer, a vicious monster. The heir of the infamous Valentino family, Nico is a man with blood-stained hands and a heart of ice.
To Gabriel Delatto, Nico is more than that: a childhood friend, a passionate lover, a misunderstood soul, a man whose cold, calculated outward exterior protects the broken man inside. Nico is his best friend, his lover, his other half—his better half.
But how much of that is true? And how much is just lies whispered between bloody lips?
New York to Tokyo—Gabriel is willing to follow his lover to the ends of the earth to find out what Nico is running from.
Or, maybe, what is Nico running to?
Excerpt
Nico was beautiful in his fear.
Nico’s hair was mussed, sweat dripping down from his hairline to the collar of his shirt, his pendant standing stark against his throat. There was blood splattered across his cheeks like macabre freckles, a dribble just below his nose making its way down his bottom lip.
Gabriel didn’t know if it was his or someone else’s, but it looked exquisite against his skin.
What would Nico’s blood have tasted like? What would Nico’s fear have tasted like?
It didn’t matter. Gabriel would have kissed it away if he could.
If he could, Gabriel would have done many things differently.
If he could.
If he could…
This was all wrong.
“Stop, Gabriel.”
The air in the house was like an oven, nary a breeze to give either of them comfort. Despite the distance between them, a chasm that only seemed to grow wider, Gabriel could all but feel the heat from Nico’s mouth against his.
Nico was fire and Gabriel…
Gabriel was just the kindling.
They were so close—all Gabriel had to do was reach out. All it would take was a hand around Nico’s collar and he could crush his lips against Nico’s. They could fall into each other’s arms as they always had, always would.
That would have been right.
That would have been good.
But there was something pink and gelatinous smeared across the front of Nico’s shirt, something that Gabriel knew intrinsically belonged in someone’s head, not spread across Nico’s white button-up.
Nico’s hands shook like leaves on trees just before the hurricane ripped them off and scattered them across the sea.
When their eyes met, Gabriel turned away his head as though someone struck him.
Nico’s unbridled fear staring back at him through piercing dark blue eyes made his stomach churn.
That wasn’t how Nico was supposed to stare at him. That wasn’t what they had, that wasn’t who they were supposed to be.
Why was Nico so scared?
Why was Nico scared of him?
“Gabriel—Gabe—”
Gabriel could hear the words, feel the cold metal in his hand. He knew that there was something wrong with this scene, knew that this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go. He could feel the heaviness of the gun, the cloying smell of blood and shit, the sweat on his brow, the panic clawing through his stomach—
“Gabriel—please. Please, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. I know you, Gabriel. I know you. This isn’t you. This isn’t you.”
“Get out of the way, Nico.”
It was his voice.
He could feel the hum of the words leaving his throat, how his lungs exhaled with every syllable. He could feel the way his lips touched, how they formed words, how his tongue clinked against his teeth.
He could feel it, feel all of it, just as he could feel the metal, hard and cold, gripped in his hand.
“You can’t do this. you have to stop—” Nico reached out for his arm, but it met nothing but air.
Gabriel tried to lower his hand, tried to loosen his grip on the gun, but he couldn’t.
He couldn’t.
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Gabriel—you’re better than this. You’re more than this!”
Was he?
“My hands are bloodier than yours.”
Gabriel wanted his hand to shake, but it was steady.
It was too steady.
“Baby. Please. If you do this… you can’t come back from this.”
He wanted to let go, wanted to scream, wanted to say something—anything.
Why couldn’t he stop himself? Why couldn’t he let go? Why did it feel as though he were a marionette, a puppet with someone else pulling his strings?
I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this. Please. Please. Nico—please—
“Gabriel… I love you.”
It was a whisper between bloody lips.
“I love you. Please don’t do thi—”
Gabriel pulled the trigger.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Silence.
About the Author
Sai Fox was born and raised in New York City, so it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that there’s an ever-present coffee cup on her desk as she writes well into the night. A chronic insomniac, some of her best ideas come to her right before heading off to bed.
Currently residing in Tokyo, Sai finds most of her time spent writing, reading, and wandering the strange and intoxicating streets that tell thousands of stories… with a cup of coffee. There is always a cup of coffee.
Sai has been writing fiction for well over a decade, enjoying the ability to push boundaries of society and sexuality through her work.
Luke Ryan’s life is too chaotic for romance, what with running his business and being the legal guardian to his ten-year-old niece, but he’s hopeful he’ll find the right man.
Trauma surgeon Finn Thomason recently relocated from Chicago to Boston, where his focus on medicine leaves him little space for a personal life. Making a commitment to find a better work-life balance, Finn hopes he’ll also find a relationship.
Caught in an evening rainstorm, Luke shelters under a sidewalk awning…and encounters a handsome stranger. The two strike up a conversation and Finn offers to walk Luke under his oversized umbrella. Charmed, Luke accepts and asks Finn out for coffee in thanks.
Luke and Finn quickly grow close, but, as the summer draws to an end, Luke struggles to keep his connection with Finn while Finn tries to come to terms with caring for a man whose attention is pulled in many directions. Both men are scrambling to get it right, but only time will tell if they’ll learn there is more than enough room in their hearts to go around.
“Hey, Luke, I’m going to Starbucks to buy coffee for everyone. You want?”
Luke Ryan stared at the code on his computer monitors and nodded absently. “Sure.”
“Okay. Grab your stuff and come with me.”
Luke blinked. “What do you need me for?” He turned away from the monitors and faced his best friend and business partner, Simon Martin.
Simon stood and eyed Luke across their shared office. “To help me schlep back the orders.”
“Ugh.” It was nearly two p.m. and Luke’s concentration was flagging. As much as he wanted to keep working, fresh coffee sounded wonderful. The idea of going to fetch it, however, not so much. He stood and picked up his wallet and phone from his desk. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you’d let me buy a new coffeemaker.”
“I said I’d buy it, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you said that two weeks ago. And here we are, making the trek to Starbucks once again.”
Simon sighed at Luke’s grumbling. “Oh, goodness. I’ll buy one this weekend, I promise. In the meantime, you could stand to go outside for a few minutes. Your ass has been bolted to that chair all day. You didn’t even break for lunch.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You ate a plastic squeeze tube filled with something green.”
“It was yogurt,” Luke said. “I bought a box of mixed flavor tubes but Ella doesn’t like lime, so they’re all mine.”
Simon grimaced. “That sounds appalling. Serves you right for feeding that girl junk.”
Luke chuckled as they started for the door. His niece, Ella, was ten years old and particular about what she ate. Luke had been stuck eating food she’d rejected before, but he didn’t mind—weird foods came with the territory of raising children. Or helping to raise them, anyway, as Luke had been helping his brother, Peter, do for the past several years, ever since Peter’s wife had walked out on her family and Peter had moved Ella from the Marine base in Virginia back to Boston and into Luke’s Back Bay apartment.
Once outside, Luke and Simon walked a block and a half to Winter Street, navigating around shoppers and tourists. The line at Starbucks stretched nearly out of the door, and they stepped up to its end while Luke read over the orders his coworkers had scribbled on a scrap of paper.
“I don’t know what this says.” He pointed at one messy line. “This looks like Klingon.”
Simon squinted. “You would know, I suppose. I’m fairly sure everyone ordered cold brew, by the way. That’s all those hipster punks drink anyway.”
Luke laughed. “Good point. Gillian wants an almond milk Macchiato, though.” Gillian Vasquez was the third partner in their software development business. Petite, red-haired and whip-smart, her easygoing personality provided an excellent foil for Simon’s brashness and Luke’s hyperfocus. Gillian kept Simon and Luke in line and they knew it.
“Is she still doing the dairy-free thing?” Simon asked.
“I’m not sure. I think she just likes almond milk, to be honest. Ella’s the same.”
“That doesn’t make those bowls of sugar cereal you feed her any healthier, you know.”
Luke rolled his eyes. He’d never understood why kids’ cereals got such a bad rap. Beyond the high sugar content and their dubious nutritional value, that was.
“I found a recipe for Cap’n Crunch cookies,” he said. “I was thinking Ella and I could make them over the weekend.” He snorted with laughter at Simon’s obvious disgust.
“Where on earth would you find such a thing?”
“Pinterest. It’s loaded with all kinds of questionable recipes.”
“Oh, Pickle.” Simon made a sympathetic noise. “This only underscores what I’ve been telling you for months—you need to get out more.”
Luke winced. “Please don’t call me Pickle in public.” He glanced around, hoping no one had overheard the ridiculous nickname, and met the gaze of a dark-haired guy standing behind them.
Well, hello there.
Luke flashed a grin and the guy blinked, clearly surprised. He offered Luke a shy half-smile of his own just before the line shifted.
Luke faced forward. “You know I don’t have time to go out,” he said to Simon. “Even if I did, the men I’d meet would take one look at Ella and run for the hills.”
“Surely not every man you meet is averse to the idea of family.” Simon frowned. “I like children. Or Ella, at least.”
“Yes, but you and I are not dating.”
“Not since I kicked you to the curb a decade ago, true.” He smiled at Luke’s laughter. “Still, I can’t imagine anyone you meet not being charmed by Ella. She’s loveable even when she’s being difficult.”
They stepped forward as the line moved again. Luke hazarded another glance back and felt a pang of disappointment to find the cute guy talking on his phone. He met Luke’s eyes again, however, and Luke smothered a curse when Simon nudged him with his elbow.
“Ella likes you, so of course you think she’s fun,” Luke said. “Not everyone thinks the way you do or wants to stick around while I fill in for her dad, though.”
“Are you so sure?” Simon asked.
“I’m still single, am I not?”
“Yes, though I confess I don’t know why. It’s not because you’re lacking in looks and your personality is certainly adequate.”
“Nice.” Luke shrugged off both the compliment and the tease. He knew he was easy to look at. He was tall and fit with a heart-shaped face and gray-green eyes, and his friends joked he couldn’t take a bad photo. Luke didn’t suffer for lack of attention from men. Keeping a man’s interest presented the real challenge these days, and that had a lot to do with the fact that he was taking care of a young child.
“I’m thirty-two years old,” he said. “The men I meet who want children are either already parents or in committed relationships and headed in that direction.”
“This is why you need to meet new men,” Simon replied. “Ella isn’t your daughter, Luke. Pete’ll be back from deployment in a couple of months and that’ll take some of the pressure off you. There’s no reason for you to be celibate until then, either.”
“I’m hardly celibate,” Luke muttered, his cheeks hot. “And please keep your voice down.”
He paused as they approached the counter. Simon placed the order and Luke glanced at the guy behind them again. Thankfully, he was still on his phone instead of being forced to eavesdrop on the saga of Luke’s sad single life.
“I know I haven’t had a boyfriend since Ella moved in with me,” Luke continued while Simon paid for the order. “Taking care of her complicates my life, but it’s nothing compared to Pete’s wife taking off on them. And I do go out on occasion, Simon. I date.”
Simon cocked a well-groomed eyebrow at him. “Okay, and when exactly? Because we both know you don’t have time to yourself anymore.”
Despite Simon’s gentle tone, Luke winced. Even with help from his parents and his babysitter, Melissa, he rarely had a minute to himself outside his own bathroom. Even then, odds were Ella would knock on the door and blithely ask questions while Luke showered or shaved.
“In all seriousness, when did you last go out with a man?” Simon asked. They moved aside so the baristas could mix up their magic, and he patted Luke’s arm. “Hell, when did you last pick someone up?”
“I met someone while I was grocery shopping last week, believe it or not,” Luke replied. “We emailed a couple of times, but he dropped off the map. I picked someone up a couple of months ago, the last time Pete came home on leave.” He grinned at Simon. “You and I went out for dinner and drinks, then over to that bar in Back Bay named after Oscar Wilde. Remember?”
“That’s the bar with the boozy milkshakes?”
“Yes! I met Jeremy that night.”
Realization flashed in Simon’s eyes. “I’d forgotten that’s where you met. Where was I?”
“Sucking face with some bartender, I think.” Luke smirked at Simon’s raucous laughter.
“Oh, God, that’s right. Those milkshakes are lethal!”
“Believe me, I remember.” Luke reached up and ruffled Simon’s hair. “Anyway, I didn’t take Jeremy home that night, but we exchanged numbers and spent time together for a couple of weeks.”
“What happened between you two, anyway? I don’t think you ever said.”
“There was nothing to tell. Pete’s leave ended and I canceled a couple of dates because Melissa was busy and I couldn’t find a sitter. Jeremy just faded out.” Despite his careless tone, Luke’s heart twinged a little. He’d enjoyed spending time with Jeremy and watching him withdraw had stung.
Simon clasped Luke’s shoulder with one strong hand. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to be that way all the time, you know. I can watch Ella for you if Melissa is busy—I just need some notice. Gillian will, too. Hell, ask around the office if you need someone for a couple of hours. I’m sure at least one of the kids on staff is the babysitting type.”
“I know, and thanks. It doesn’t matter, though. The reality is I’m with Ella a lot because I want to be and guys usually bolt after they figure that out.”
Simon’s gentle scowl warmed Luke’s heart. He loved that his friend cared enough to listen. Then Luke saw the cute guy with the dark hair pay for his single coffee and leave. Damn. Once upon a time, Luke would have struck up a conversation with him instead of watching the opportunity slip away. Maybe Simon had a point.
“It’s fine,” he said. “And you’re right. I should make an effort to get out there and meet new men. Especially since things will go back to normal after Pete gets home. For a while, anyway.”
“That ‘for a while’ is kind of a problem.” Simon’s expression sobered. “Your brother will still be at Quantico more rather than less. I don’t even mean that in a bad way because I know you love having her here.”
Luke nodded. He’d never thought twice about welcoming his niece into his home. “I do. All the more reason to find someone who’s okay with Ella being in my life.”
Is that such a bad thing to want? Luke didn’t think so.
The barista called their order and Luke handed Simon the bags he’d been holding. “At any rate, it’ll be great having Pete back, even if he’s not in Boston. Ella hasn’t been the same since her dad was deployed.” Carefully, he collected the trays of cups.
Simon led the way out, talking over his shoulder as he held the door for Luke. “You think so?”
“Oh, yeah.” Luke sighed. “She really misses him, and it’s not like we can visit. She worries about his safety, just like my parents worry, and I do, too. Life will be a hundred times easier for all of us with Pete on US soil, whether he’s at the Marine base or not.”
“I understand,” Simon replied. “I’m just sorry I can’t do more than listen.”
Luke smiled. “Don’t be. I’d have gone bananas a long time ago without you and Gillian around to listen and keep me sane.”
“Girl, you’ve always been bananas,” Simon said, his tone airy. “But we’re used to it and don’t love you any less.” He shot Luke a wink and they headed for the office.
About the Author
K. Evan Coles is a mother and tech pirate by day and a writer by night. She is a dreamer who, with a little hard work and a lot of good coffee, coaxes words out of her head and onto paper.
K. lives in the northeast United States, where she complains bitterly about the winters, but truly loves the region and its diverse, tenacious and deceptively compassionate people. You’ll usually find K. nerding out over books, movies and television with friends and family. She’s especially proud to be raising her son as part of a new generation of unabashed geeks.
K.’s books explore LGBTQ+ romance in contemporary settings.
Attention: This book contains explicit sexual content between consenting assassins and not so innocent professors. There are depictions of masochistic masturbation, male chastity, breath play, watersports, humiliation, and torture by eighties hair bands with ginger sprinkles on top. Phew! Now, that that’s out of the way, Hi. I’m Mr. No your friendly communications agent for The Assassins’ Guild AKA T.A.G. I’ve been authorized by the head honcho himself, Mr. H, to release approved records from the agent files. Agent Code Name Mr. W was recovering from a near death debacle by way of an easy assignment in a small mountain town. Red flags sprang up immediately around the seemingly innocent English professor. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery Jacob Peters presented, Mr. W made plans to do what he did best, watch , wait , and then capture and interrogate. But even the best laid plans can go awry and what Mr. W discovered derailed his plan to kill Jacob. Find out what brought Mr. W to his knees in this first release from the archives of The Assassins’ Guild.
Shortly, after the cock cage incident, Dad sat me down to have The Talk. I knew by then that I liked dick. At first, I thought maybe it was because I was around men all the time and hardly ever any women, but one day I pulled up cameras from the women’s locker room just to see. Yeah, even the more masculine looking females did nothing for me. I got off my dad’s laptop quickly before he caught me and went back to my room to look at the gay porn I had smuggled from the sex shop. So, my dad sits me down and I’m worried. Even as isolated as we were on the compound, I had access to the outside world. I knew how homosexuality was viewed. Yes, there were changes being made and it was more accepted now, but I still worried.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when Dad came in with a dildo in one hand and a weird looking toy in the other one. It looked scary from afar. He put them down on the table along with a condom and a bottle of lube before he sat down. I was already blushing and ready to make a dash back to my room, but he pinned me with that look he got when he was dead serious and started his explanation. He showed me how to put a condom on, which I rolled my eyes at because duh. That was proceeded with a long talk on all STDs, how you can catch them in non-sexual ways, symptoms, and pictures. He pulled up pictures on his laptop. I was mortified, but damn if I was going to make sure I used condoms no matter what.
He then picked up the item that I had been avoiding looking at. It was multicolored and just weird looking. It turned out to be a big silicon asshole more or less. It was weird. Later, I found out why it looked so weird, but that’s just not something I want to think about. Although, I did end up buying a few dildos from the fantasy dildo company it was from when I got older. But back to my horrifying sex talk with my dad. He opened the lube and briefly went over the best kinds of lube to use and when. At this point, it hadn’t occurred to me how my dad knew all this stuff. He was my dad. He knew everything as far as I was concerned. He then showed me how, if I were to have sex with another man, how to prepare them or myself for it using the silicon asshole of course. He explained things like the prostate and other key erogenous zones of the male genitalia. By the end, I knew I was scarlet and dying of embarrassment. If my dad was embarrassed in anyway, he didn’t show it. He was very clinical about it. He used his instructor voice and could have been going over the parts of a P-90, he was so unphased.
He never once said anything about women. The next day, I went to his office and asked him, “How did you know?”
He quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “Yoshi, do you really think Mr. Th (that was his assistant) got you stuff from the adult store in town without my permission?”
I turned beet red and stuttered, “No, sir.” I thought I was in huge trouble and kept my eyes on my feet.
My dad pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight, surprising me. “I’m not mad. I’m glad that you went to him rather than try to sneak off on your own or do something irresponsible. I figured you weren’t ready to talk to me about those kinds of things and that’s okay. Just know that I’m always here if you need me and I’ll never judge you.” I nodded and hugged him tight, not realizing that I had started crying. I hadn’t really thought how much I was worried about it until I felt the relief his words brought me.
“I love you, Dad.” The words came out more of a whisper than I intended.
He pushed me to arm’s length, so he could see me and wiped my eyes. “I love you too, Son. Now, go out to the range. You have a test tomorrow.” I nodded and headed to the door. I had my hand on the knob when he spoke again. “Just so you know, I’m gay too.”
I turned my head in shock. The surprise evident on my face, my eyes wide. He furrowed his brows at me. “What? Did you not think I had a love life, too?”
I tried to pick my jaw up off the ground to answer. “No, Dad. Honestly, I never thought about you having a relationship much less sex.”
Dad burst out laughing then. “Well, I do.”
I stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing, “Lalalalala. I don’t want to know, Dad.”
My dad sobered then and cleared his throat. “Do you think if I found someone I really liked that you’d be okay if I brought him round?”
I took my fingers out of my ears and went back and threw my arms around him again and squeezed tight and then let go. “Yeah, Dad.” Before things could get any more awkward, I dashed out the door and closed it behind me. I hissed traitor as I passed Mr. Th’s desk and went out to the range.
About the Author
A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.
A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.
