LGBT Romance Giveaway – 41 separate stories from 30 authors
Free books from some of the Registered Authors of the GRL
These stories are written by
authors attending the GRL Retreat, the must-attend event for people who create and
celebrate LGBTQ romance. Discover new authors, new books, and new series—and find new
While all of the authors with
stories in the giveaway will be attending the GRL Retreat 2021, there may also be additional
authors who were unable to participate.
How far will two sorcerers
go to save humanity? Will they give up their lives? Will they give up their
A broken mage. A penitent vampire. Can they put aside the
horrors of the past to save each other?
Plagued with erratic. volatile magic, Nicodemus Green
focuses his entire life to stop an evil sorcerer who brainwashes or kills anyone in his path to
domination. Ten years into this crusade, Nick stumbles upon his former Academy instructor
in the Austrian Alps. The strict and pious Byron Domitius has cloistered himself in an isolated
manor. Alone and starving, he hates the twisted, damned creature he has become.
A prophecy calls for Nick and Byron to bond by blood to
finally bring an end to the sorcerer’s hidden agenda. The two are forced to see beyond their
shared past, and Nick finds himself desiring more from his old instructor than just his magic.
But are these emotions real, or do they come from the heat of their bond?
Excerpt – Stargazing
They stood side by side, almost close, looking up at the twinkling stars. Byron pointed, and
Nick followed his finger to the sky.
“Perseus,” Byron said. “Do you see that, the upper right branch of Perseus? Do you know
what I’m talking about?”
“I had astronomy with you two years in a row. Or did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget. I nurtured the assumption that you and your gang of goons had more
important things to do than pay attention in my class.”
“Goons? We did pay attention. I know the constellation.” He didn’t remember it from
Byron’s class, though. They had a Mentor of the Month who lived at an observatory near the
top of Mt. St. Helens in Washington, and they’d spent hours staring at the stars. It had been
windy and cold, and the sky had been clear, the stars brilliant.
“Fine. That star, the bright one, is Algol. It means Demon Head. Fitting for the constellation
that is supposed to hold the head of Medusa.”
Nick hmmed to show he was listening. Byron’s voice was soothing, deep and
quiet in the dark of night. Comfortable. Safe. “Algol is actually a tertiary star, but the third
star is so weak, it puts off little shine. It’s used by celestials as a binary system to imbue
power into obsidian.”
“A twin star.” Suddenly invested, Nick gazed up with a sense of wonder. “Is that the power
that was in my obsidian, sir?”
Byron nodded, then turned to Nick, his dark eyes fathomless, his face young and smooth
and illuminated from above. “Yes. There are two stars there, circling one another. Their
individual gravitational pull keeps them in a perfect orbit, tethered in their eternal spin. And
together, they are brighter for it,” he said softly, reverently. The air felt heavy, and then
Byron faced the sky.
Nick watched his old professor out of the corner of his eyes, unmoving, like a statue, gazing
upon the night sky with a depth of sorrow and yearning Nick couldn’t understand, never
could understand, even after his years of wandering. He wanted to reach out, touch him,
perhaps melt his cold flesh, make him come alive with contact, and then he realized he was
staring and thinking inappropriate things.
He cleared his throat.
“Well, I should get back in, Byron. Enjoy your evening.”
Byron slowly looked down at him, a small smile on his lips, not a smirk, but a close cousin
like he could read Nick’s thoughts. Felt Nick’s desire like a breeze on his arms.
“You as well.”
About the Author
Nat Kennedy writes fantasy
fiction of all kinds. She strives to create engaging, plotty romantic stories. In her worlds,
Heroes abound. She lives in the Pacific Northwest where the rain keeps the world green.
Find her online at natkennedy.com or on IG natkennedybooks.
Every Winter Solstice, the Emerald Kingdom sends the
dreaded Ice King a sacrifice—a corrupt soul, a criminal, a deviant, or someone touched by
magic. Prince Reardon has always loathed this tradition, partly because he dreams of love
with another man instead of a future queen.
Then Reardon’s best friend is discovered as a witch and
sent to the Frozen Kingdom as tribute.
Reardon sets out to rescue him, willing to battle and kill the
Ice King if that’s what it takes. But nothing could prepare him for what he finds in the Frozen
Kingdom—a cursed land filled with magic… and a camaraderie Reardon has never known.
Over this strange, warm community presides the enigmatic Ice King himself, a man his
subjects call Jack. A man with skin made of ice, whose very touch can stop a beating
A man Reardon finds himself inexplicably drawn to.
Jack doesn’t trust Reardon. But when Reardon begins
spending long days with him, vowing to prove himself and break the curse, Jack begins to
hope. Can love and forgiveness melt the ice around Jack’s heart?
“Jack, is it? Far better than ‘Ice King,’ I suppose.”
The king frowned.
“I’ll call you Majesty until we trust each other. But on that
day, I will call you Jack.”
“Is this a game to you?” The Ice King straightened. Reardon
stood almost directly before the throne now, chilled and shivering but without any creeping
frost on his hair or clothes. “What do you hope to accomplish?”
“My father is wrong for what he does, but seeing this curse
on you makes me wonder if he is right about magic’s corruption, despite all the wonders it
“Magic alone did not curse us!” the king roared. “One
person who wielded it did, and I brought her wrath upon me myself.”
That gave Reardon pause. There was so much he didn’t
know. “You could tell me your story.”
“It is a long one, little prince, and I grow weary of your
presence already.” He stood, crunching down the steps between Reardon and the throne
and bringing a gust of icy wind with him.
Reardon sensed how close he was to death but stood his
ground. “I only want to bring my people home.”
“And where are they supposed to go? Home, you say. The
thief who almost lost her hands because she was starving, the man who lusted after the
wrong noble’s son, your friend who has visions—do they have a home to go back to when
their own people cast them out as villains?”
“Good for you. You only cared once it finally affected
someone you knew.”
Reardon’s fists clenched to be called a heartless coward,
but he’d called himself worse this past year.
He also couldn’t overlook the example of a man and a noble’s son.
“I suppose you’ve taken in all the corrupted, haven’t
“You call them corrupt”—the Ice King stomped another
clawed foot closer—“yet ask for leniency?”
“I only speak as I was taught. I don’t agree with it. I don’t
believe they’re corrupt. Not any of them. I don’t want to. If my father
“He’d still keep up the status quo. Your kingdom shuns
what they don’t understand because of my curse, yet they don’t even remember the time
“So tell me! Let me know the truth so we can learn from
our past instead of continuing to repeat it.” Reardon stepped forward—too close, he
knew—but like before, instead of reaching out and ending him, the Ice King backed away.
“You’d really let them all go, wouldn’t you? If they wanted it?”
“They don’t, but you are welcome to ask them, including
“Then I am not a prisoner either?”
“That is up for debate.”
If Barclay had seen Reardon’s death in his vision, it couldn’t
be now. Not yet. “Give me the chance to prove I will go back and change things for the
better. I’ll stay for as long as it takes, but once you believe me, once you know me and I
know you, let me go.”
“And what if I never believe you? You’re the prince. You
could bring an army to my door after learning my secrets.”
“If you never believe me… then you either have another
servant or another statue to crush. But that means you take an audience with me every
The king scoffed, turning to stomp back up to his throne
and throw himself onto it with an elegant ease that should have been impossible. “Sounds
“Yes, I can see your calendar is quite full.”
He rumbled with laughter like a brewing winter
For a long stretch of minutes, he stared at Reardon with his
uniquely human eyes—different from his companions. The Ice King was more tied to his
humanity, even if he’d lost the feeling of it in his heart, and more cursed and tortured
because of it, perhaps.
Yet still he said, “Fine. But make no mistake, little prince, if
you prove unworthy or attempt to betray me, I will not hesitate to turn you into frozen
rubble like that thief.”
All Reardon could do was return his stare and
wonder—What was this curse? Why had it been cast? And what had the king been like
before it changed him and his kingdom? He had to know, even if a mysterious and
frightening future stretched out before him.
Love, death, and blue eyes in a sea of white.
Whatever that might mean.
“You have a deal, Your Majesty.”
About the Author
Amanda Meuwissen is a
bisexual author, with a primary focus on M/M romance. As author of the paranormal
romance trilogy The Incubus Saga and several other titles with various publishers,
Amanda regularly attends local comic conventions for fun and to meet with fans, where she
will often be seen in costume as one of her favorite fictional characters. She lives in
Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga.
Someone is out to murder his husband and he might just be the reason they succeed.
Imperial Crown Prince Darshan knew his journey home wasn’t going to be the modest one he hoped for, especially not after eloping with Hamish, a former prince—and now exile—of Tirglas.
When he thwarts a clumsy attempt on his husband’s life during a soirée hosted by his long-standing rival and half-sister, he figures the worst is behind them.
Yet, the threat of death continues to shadow them across the empire. Someone is intent on making the rumours of his husband’s demise a reality, someone who can erase the memory of their very presence from people’s minds.
Darshan must discover who is behind the attempts before they succeed. But who can he trust when the culprit is capable of slipping by the most vigilant of guards?
“Your highness,” Katarina said in a clear address to himself. “I hear you’ve travelled through imperial lands for some months. What is your current outlook on it?” Although she spoke Udynean, the musical hint of her own language whispered through. A much softer melody than the last hedgewitch Hamish had met.
He swallowed the wine and considered the past eight weeks of travel from the distant port of Haalabof to here, of the seemingly endless roads winding along the lands and the villages small enough to barely warrant a mention on a map. “It has certainly been an experience.” He’d been propositioned at least seven times along the way. Maybe even more that had been too subtle for him to notice.
The hedgewitch’s eyes almost sparkled. “You simply must give me details, your highness. It’s so rare to have an outside opinion on Udynea.”
Hamish opened his mouth, his agreement balancing on his tongue, only to remain silent as Darshan laid a bejewelled hand atop his.
“I’m sure my husband is most eager to oblige the request, Madam Hedgewitch, but perhaps another time would be more suited?”
Her lashes fluttering, Katarina lowered her head. “Of course, vris Mhanek.” She picked at the rest of her meal, perhaps looking for a reason to remain silent as she vibrated with an energy that reminded Hamish of his nephews when they sorely wanted to natter people’s ears off.
A pang of longing turned his stomach. A yearning to embrace his sisters, to hear his nephews scheming and his niece’s laughter. He would even take his brother’s good-natured ribbing just for a chance to hear his voice.
Hamish swallowed, blinking furiously to stem the tears threatening to spill. He hadn’t expected to feel homesick, but he’d never been beyond Tirglas before, hadn’t even been more than a week’s travel from Mullhind Castle for years. Now it was months away and there was more land to cover before they reached their destination.
A whole continent between him and his family; people he would never get to see again thanks to his mother’s poisonous ire.
“Do eat up, brother dear,” Onella purred, jolting Hamish from his thoughts. His sister-in-law gestured to the plate before Darshan, the rings adorning her fingers glittering in the candlelight. She had changed gowns, or at least the filmy topmost layer, and her arm showed no sign of Darshan’s attack. “All that dancing must’ve worked up quite the appetite. I can’t imagine the poxy inns you’ve stopped at during your travels had meals sufficient for a man of your power. You must be ravenous.”
Darshan smiled. Hamish wasn’t sure how his husband managed to seemingly detach the expression from his face, but the sight prickled his skin. “I think I’ll pass, dear half-sister.”
“But isn’t quail your favourite?” Onella pressed. “Did all those stodgy meals up north affect your palate?” She leant closer to one of the men flanking her and continued on in a loud whisper. “I hear they do ghastly things like stuff sheep stomachs and eat them.”
“They do indeed,” Katarina piped up as grumbles of distaste trembled along the table. “And the stomachs of cows and pigs.”
“There’s little from an animal we dinnae eat or use,” Hamish added, ferocious pride for his homeland’s self-sufficiency puffing his chest. “And what’s left goes to feed our dogs and pigs. We dinnae let a thing go to waste.”
“Clearly, trade relations with a superior people isn’t listed as one of those things.” Onella sipped at her wine, her gaze boring into him. “But I suppose you’re not privy to such matters, being dead and all.”
A woman part way down the table flung her head back and guffawed.
“He seems very lively for a dead man,” pointed out the woman sitting next to her as her neighbour continued to wheeze.
“Clearly not in the literal sense,” Onella said, her gaze remaining firmly on Hamish. “But it would seem that the news of how the current queen of Tirglas disowned her younger son hasn’t reached all present company.”
Darshan straightened in his chair. “Has it not?” He took up his glass and tapped his forefinger against it, waiting whilst a servant topped up the wine. “What is the rumour mill coming to if it cannot keep up with such trivial concerns?”
About the Author
Aldrea Alien is an award-winning, bisexual author of fantasy romance with varying heat levels. Born and raised in New Zealand, she lives on a small farm with her family, including a menagerie of animals, who are all convinced they’re just as human as the next person. Especially the cats. Since discovering a love of writing at the age of twelve, she hasn’t found an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind with all of them clamouring for her to tell their story first.
When an incubus
half-breed falls for a mortal Egyptian man, will their love span centuries or are they destined
to pine for each other for all eternity?
In Ancient Egypt when the pharaohs ruled the banks of the
Nile, Mahu led a simple, if somewhat melancholy, life. Making papyrus filled his days. His
needs were provided for, but deep in his soul, Mahu longed for companionship.
Dakarai, born of a demon mother and a human father,
craved independence. A young incubus constantly in the shadows of his full-blooded
siblings, Daka set out for a new city and a life of his own.
While a starving Daka roams the streets hunting for a meal,
the sight of a beautiful man walking alone stops him in his tracks. The handsome stranger is
just what he needs to quench his spiraling thirst.
But Mahu turns out to be more than Daka bargained for,
and his heart falls for the lonely man.
What betrayal shatters their foundation, can Daka and
Mahu find their way back to each other, or is each soul destined to long for the other for all
Beyond the Ruby River is an MM Paranormal Romance
featuring a steamy love story, a second chance romance, and the mysteries of an ancient
world. This is book three of a series and can be read as a standalone with its own HEA and
Hunger stirred deep in Daka’s core, an emptiness with claws and teeth demanding to be
filled. It was his first night in Naukratis, and already he wondered if he’d
made a mistake abandoning the safe cocoon of his family. Though eager for a taste of
independence, Daka’s nerves flut‐ tered with unease as he stalked the unfamiliar streets.
With only a warm sea breeze for company, Daka let loose his extra sense, the one that
would lead him to a meal. Entering the wide market square, he cast his gaze over dozens of
stalls, their colorful awnings muted in the evening light. Laborers celerated the end of a
day’s work with beer, bread, and conversa‐ tion. Street vendors peddled their offerings.
Naukratis smelled of fresh spiced fish, baking bread, and candied nuts—all of which
appealed to him, but none that would quench this particular hunger.
What Daka needed would be found past the town’s main market, perhaps down a side
street or along a narrow alley. Inhaling through his nose, sorting the myriad array of scents,
he searched for the alluring aroma of pleasure. A brothel would suit perfectly.
Daka’s intuition guided him forward, but before he could cut south to chase the divine smell
of arousal around the corner, his gaze landed on an elegant man and refused to budge. His
eyes possessed a will of their own, such was the man’s appeal.
He was taller than Daka’s average height, long of limb with wide shoulders and perfect
posture. He wore cornflower blue linen, belted at his narrow waist, skirt hanging to a svelte
pair of thighs. Dark onyx tresses hung past his chin, straight and prob‐ ably silken to the
touch. Daka couldn’t be sure of the texture at this distance and it was suddenly of the
utmost importance to find out.
Though brothel workers would make for an easier target, Daka veered off course to pursue
the handsome man instead. To seduce him and touch his lovely hair for himself. He followed
through the square—dodging people and slinking amongst the crowd, stealthy as a cat and
just as light on his feet—until he was no more than ten paces from his quarry.
This close, Daka could pick up the scent lingering in the man’s wake. Earthen and woody, like
the papyrus that grew in the marshy lands nearby. He inhaled greedily. What would he smell
like aroused? Daka had to know.
The man left the busy center of town, turned west, and continued between rows of mud
brick houses, his pace steady as a pulsing heart. He had the stride of a man to a purpose.
Daka’s curiosity grew with each step. Instead of catching up to begin the seduction, Daka
shoved his appetite aside in favor of learning the man’s destination.
They walked for another quarter hour until the chirps of bugs overtook the noise from town
and houses gave way to farmland. Daka spotted the neat rows of tumuli leading to an
ancient mastaba, and their endpoint became clear.
The man had led him to the final resting place of Naukratis’ dead.
Well-maintained burial mounds, with funerary gardens throughout, lined the landscape.
Daka hung back so as not to be noticed or to disturb this man in his grief. The perfect
posture he’d noted earlier began to sag, shoulders drooping forward, head bowed as he
knelt by a triad of graves. He sat back on his heels, long thighs stretched thin, the blue linen
of his skirt revealing smooth bronzed skin.
Daka could not help his appetite, inappropriate as it may be, though he would strive to
contain it. This man was in no mood for the sort of amorous encounter an incubus like
himself fed on. He needed a warm, familial embrace, not the frenzied release Daka itched to
He slunk back into the shadows to watch from under a sweet-smelling date palm. The man
sat with the dead. Daka sat by himself, wondering who the man had lost.
Daka’s family possessed immortality. At least, his mother and siblings did. His father was
human, but Daka had never met him. As a half-blooded demon, he’d staked claim to
immortality but not to all the gifts that came with it. His powers of sway and persuasion
were paltry in comparison to his full-blooded brethren. Unable to bend people to his will,
Daka could only nudge. He might never develop the skill of astral projection. But he would
live forever, a feat which seemed unfathomable at only twenty-two years into eternity.
The man bent over the graves had a decade or so on Daka in age, perhaps more. Maybe
thirty-five or forty, Daka couldn’t tell. A man in his prime but worn around the edges with
the melancholy that loss thrusts upon the living.
About the Author
Lee Colgin has loved
vampires since she read Dracula on a hot, sunny beach at 13 years old. She lives in North
Carolina with lots of dogs and her husband. No, he’s not a vampire, but she loves him
anyway. Lee likes to workout so she can eat the maximum amount of cookies with her pizza.
Ask her how much she can bench press.
Arthur grew up a peasant,
but when he was fourteen, Excalibur chose him, and now as King Arthur, he must learn to
play the game of royalty quickly … or suffer the consequences.
There was no reason for Arthur to think he would ever
A peasant and son of a baker, Arthur grew up in the castle
town of Camelot. When he attended the choosing ceremony, it was merely to see who
would draw the Holy Sword, Excalibur – to see who would inherit the throne of the recently
departed King Uther. He never expected the sword would choose him…
But it did.
Now, at the young age of fourteen, he has become King
Arthur, and for all the power he has gained, he has made just as many enemies. Surrounded
by the Knights of the Round Table, and led by the mysterious mage, Merlin, Arthur is
grateful for his allies, though he would just as soon return to his old life. Surely, someone
more worthy should be chosen as king.
Arthur is in the middle of chaos, a world where everyone
wants more than they let on, where many hate the idea of a young boy with no noble
background being crowned king; where cold stares and whispered words are just as sharp as
an assassin’s blade.
As Arthur fends for his life, he must draw on the strength of
his knights, especially fifteen-year-old Mordred, who becomes closer to him than the mere
bounds of duty. He must become king, not just in name, but in his heart.
And he must do it quickly, because his enemies want more
than just his crown…
Two days had passed since I’d pulled the sword free—since becoming King. On the first full
day within the castle, Merlin had found me wandering the halls and dragged me back to my
room to be fitted for an outrageous amount of clothing. We discussed Illian.
Merlin assured me that he was being treated well within the dungeons, despite his cold
attitude that he gave to everyone. Nothing would be done to him without my consultation.
That fact only added more weight.
He also brought up his conversation with my mother and the letter I should expect. The day
after, I received it. She’d expressed her worries, but also her love and support. She praised
me, and though I knew it was meant as encouragement, it only made me more wary and
frightened. My station as King was not something to take so lightly—even if she had all the
confidence in the world. I tried to reply, but nothing I wrote seemed fitting. Rather, it all
seemed more like complaints and childish pleading. It wasn’t something I wanted to send to
her, not after having her praise me.
Within the mirror, the striking blue doublet that covered me looked even more out of place
as I thought about my mother’s letter. The kingly raiment I now wore wasn’t the only one. I
had a rich dark purple one, a red one, a light blue, and a solid black. And to think, those
were just for me to wear when I wasn’t in the throne room! All the different clothes were
going to make my head explode.
“Yes, he did a wonderful job,” Elias said. “Perfect fit. Of course, he is the best tailor in the
lands. Only the best for our King.” He stepped back from me and bowed.
“I don’t need the best,” I said softly, but Elias caught it.
“I suppose it’s good to know that you haven’t drowned in the riches, but at the same time
you do need to look the part at least.”
I turned to look out the window. The sea burst against the cliff side, throwing water in a
violent display of white foam. I watched the waves for a moment longer, knowing that I
needed to get going. I was stalling because I was nervous about meeting the knights. What
were they going to think of me? I was young, and a peasant. No royal blood flowed through
I chewed on my lower lip. Elias touched my arm. I looked over at him. He didn’t say
anything, but he didn’t have to. I nodded and followed him out of the room and into the
We left the castle and crossed from the tree-lined grounds into the gardens. The smells of
the flowers permeated my senses. I took a deep breath. The scents calmed some of my
Ahead of us on the other side of the castle grounds stood the Knights’ Tower, where they all
resided. The tower was imposing, dark in color, and vines crawled up the sides of the rocks.
Windows lined the entire building, spiraling up to the top. Elias led me to the tower’s set of
wooden doors and bowed to me.
“This is as far as I can go, Your Majesty.”
My heart clenched and ice shot through my chest. I was going to be alone with the knights.
Terror flooded me and I began to tremble. Elias touched my arm again. I focused on him. He
smiled and the gentle look helped me relax.
“You will be just fine, my lord. They might be rough around the edges, but they’re loyal and
actually very nice.”
“Okay. I’ll be just fine. Thank you, Elias. I’ll see you later.”
He bowed and left me standing in front of the doors. I contemplated leaving and hiding in
the library. I turned and took a step forward—right into a warm body. With a startled gasp, I
stumbled back and bowed forward as I squeaked, “Forgive me! I didn’t see you there! I’m
sorry I ran into you!”
The one who I had run into snickered and I recognized that tone well. I looked up to see
Merlin smirking at me. My heart fell like it had become a lump of lead. I stared at him as he
laughed at me. I could feel a hot blush creeping across my face.
“My, my. You’re a King now, my lord. You don’t bow to anyone. So, what is it that has you
cowering before the Knights’ Tower? Are you intimidated by them?” Merlin seemed a little
more welcoming, but I still didn’t like the look on his face. It seemed like he was scrutinizing
me beneath his outward demeanor.
I turned back to the double doors and swallowed dryly. “They won’t approve of me.”
“Not everyone will. But that’s what it means to be king. No one is loved on their first day on
the throne. Everyone questions the new crown; that is simply how it is. It takes time to earn
trust and loyalty. You will earn it. But…if you do nothing, then you will have nothing.”
His words shook me. The mage was right. I understood then why he was the advisor to the
King of Camelot. He knew what he was talking about. Despite being condescending at times,
he was truly helpful.
“I can’t avoid everything, and why should I? Thank you, Merlin.”
He bowed to me. “Of course, Your Majesty. It’s what I’m here for. So, shall we?”
I turned around and pulled the door open.
About the Author
Siryn Sueng is a writer of
fantasy, paranormal, and even Sci-Fi genres. She’s married to a wonderful husband with a
minion of two years. They have a full house with three adorable fur babies, Anubis -the
mighty cat hunter- Kida -the momma bear- and Mishka -the loveable husky-.
Siryn is a lover of games on a
wide range of platforms. She plays on the PC, console, and hand-held devices including the
phone. Japan is where she would love to visit sometime and is a huge inspiration to many of
her projects. She’s a huge fan of Japan, including manga and anime. Siryn has even begun to
dabble in comic/manga script writing. Future works in this will be posted on
Ashley Mostrich gets one heck of a birthday surprise when
the guy he brought home for the night turns out to be the twin brother of the prince he
didn’t know he was supposed to marry. Unbeknownst to Ashley, his grandpa made a deal
with a jinn and promised him off to the royal family before he was even born.
Zamir is the heir to the mystical kingdom of Palmyra and
promises he will love Ashley in time, while his younger brother, Zaire, is trying to get into
Ashley ‘s bed again. Ashley wants to be a faithful fiancé to Zamir, but he cannot deny the
powerful chemistry he feels with Zaire. Additional jealousy flares when Ashley discovers that
Zamir’s heart already belongs to another, but the pressure for the wedding is on because
the future of the Palmyran people hinges on a royal union magically producing an
Once Ashley realizes that Zaire’s feelings for him might be
more than physical, he finds himself falling in love with the wrong brother and risking the
fate of the entire kingdom. It’ll take a miracle—or one very powerful wish—for everyone to
have a happy ending.
“Why does everyone keep calling me ‘savior’?”
“You don’t know? About the prophecy?” Zaire questioned
Zaire made a sour face, mumbling a few soft curses before
clearing his throat. “My brother is truly an idiot. Come with me,” he said, taking Ashley’s
arm and guiding him back toward where the little girl was.
People were bringing her little trinkets and baubles,
receiving a slice of the cake from her in exchange. She had a crown of flowers in her hair,
well dressed, and seemed to be of some importance despite her youth.
Ashley watched for a few moments. “Who is that?”
“That is Lady Alana,” Zaire replied, waiting for the name to
settle in Ashley’s brain.
“Lady Alana. Wait, she’s the birthday girl?”
“Yes,” Zaire said, something sad in his voice. “Our people
are dying, Ashley. Slowly but surely, jinn are fading away. Every generation has gotten
smaller and smaller, and there hasn’t been a new jinn child born in over thirty
“Thirty years… Alana was the last one?”
“Yes. Even with all our proper breeding and perfect little
arranged marriages, every mating ritual since her birth has failed. But there’s a prophecy,
you see, that a royal wedding will bless the entire kingdom with an entire new generation of
“Wait a damn second, that little girl is freakin’
“Yes,” Zaire huffed impatiently. “We don’t age as humans
do. Now, do you understand why you are so important?”
“Everyone actually believes that me getting knocked up by
your brother or me knocking him up is the future of your entire race?”
“Mmm, pretty much. It’ll probably be you getting knocked
up, to be honest. But you know, no pressure!”
“Fuck,” Ashley mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face and
chugging his drink.
“My brother knows what’s at stake,” Zaire said gently, a
tone meant to be comforting. “He will make amends for his behavior, I know it.”
“Do you believe the prophecy?”
Zaire’s brows furrowed, and he glanced down at his mug as
he thought over the question. He took a small sip before he said, “I believe that other
people believe it’s true. I’ve never been much for fate or destiny. I much prefer the idea that
I’m in control of my own life.”
“You realize this makes what you did even more screwed
“If the prophecy is real, you risked the future of your race
just to piss off your brother.”
“First of all,” Zaire drawled, wagging his finger, “I never
planned for ‘what we did’ to go that far. I truly had no intentions of having sex with you. I
was expecting to find a blushing virgin, not an insatiable bedroom hellcat—”
“A bedroom what now?”
“And second of all,” Zaire went on with a smirk, “it was
quite impossible to think about the good of my people once I had tasted your gorgeous
“Zaire!” Ashley protested, whipping around to see if
anyone was listening. He stared back at Zaire, and he suddenly realized that although he
could hear his voice, his lips were not moving.
“When you were screaming my name, all I thought about
was wanting to hear that sweet sound as many times as I possibly could.”
Ashley gulped, blood creeping up into his cheeks as he
stammered, “That’s… that’s, uhm, that was very s-selfish of you.”
“I know,” Zaire said out loud with a smug little smile. “I’m a
very selfish person. At times, quite envious as well.”
“Seeing my brother get all the things I want for myself has
become a bit tiresome,” Zaire replied, his lips not moving again, and yet his voice was fully in
Ashley’s ear as he stepped into his space. “Not very fair at all.”
“How, how are you doing that?” Ashley hissed, instinctively
“The talking without talking.”
“Magic,” replied Zaire’s voice in his ear.
“You’ve gotta stop saying those kinds of things,” Ashley
barked, cringing when he noticed his raised voice earned them several curious
“Hmm, I didn’t actually say a thing,” Zaire pointed out
“Fine! Stop not saying those things!”
About the Author
K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an
embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral
service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was
always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first
book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty
notebooks, however, but she never gave up.
Following the success of her
first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales
of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie
conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC,
with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend
to because they think it’s cute.
Lured into a magical sleep, they must untangle the surrounding chaos to embrace a future together.
Grand Warlock Familiar Renny D’Vaire has a life he adores and is hoping for a mate who will not bring strife into his world. Renny, along with the rest of the D’Vaires, believes that his other half will be a dragon shifter, thanks to his magical beast form. Happy couples surround Renny, and he wants nothing more than to experience that joy for himself. However, Fate is full of surprises.
Protector Roriethiel of the Fae wakes up in an unfamiliar desert, uncertain how he arrived. His ample magic sapped, the rock he finds himself on is nothing like home. For weeks he stumbles along, searching for answers, and is unerringly led to the Council of Sorcery and Shifters. Rorie’s single purpose is to return to his castle, but instead he discovers his other half.
Renny is unsure how to handle the impetuous Rorie or the fairy’s desire to return to his realm. Torn between two worlds, Renny and Rorie find little common ground until they are lured into a magical dream. Chaos surrounds them as they unravel the mystery of what happened to Rorie, and although their attraction is intense and their feelings for each other grow swiftly, to succeed in love they must learn to trust that Fate has not led them astray.
Renny’s mind was whirling as he led Rorie into his bedroom. Thanks to Dra’Kaedan, another bed had already been dropped into the space while Rorie was introduced to the D’Vaires. The Fae had enthusiastically been impressed by the different races in their household, and although his manner had been stiff at the Fallen Knights’ Headquarters, it was becoming clear that it wasn’t Rorie’s usual behavior. Instead, he appeared to be a happy fairy who Renny would venture to guess was often excited.
“What are these marvels?” Rorie asked in a reverent voice.
Renny grinned as Rorie’s fingers traced the navy wand Dra’Kaedan had given him years ago when he first started his collection. A glowing golden orb was at the top and, if touched, revealed a blue dragon inside. “It’s my magic wand collection.”
“You require a stick to cast?”
“Nope, but often in books and movies, they depict sorcerers using them. I’ve always thought they were cool, and once I told everyone I wanted to start a collection, my family made it their mission to add unique ones constantly.”
“They are most lovely. So are your quarters,” Rorie said. Ripping his attention from the wands affixed to the walls, he gasped at the sight of Renny’s bed. Racing over, he ran his hand across the quilt Larissa D’Vairedraconis had painstakingly created for him. It was a medley of blues and the other colors of their household. “This is exquisite craftsmanship. You must have paid dearly for this artisan.”
“Larissa is insanely talented. You met her and her mate a few minutes ago.”
“What great luck you have to have such masters in your family.”
“I’m sure she’ll put something together that’s just as nice for your bed,” Renny offered. Rorie’s mattress was covered with a plain white comforter and looked drab in the space Renny had decorated with Larissa’s help. The sofa they’d piled with pillows that reflected the quilt had been pushed to the side, but nothing was cramped. “I’m going to get changed, okay?”
“Yes, fine.” Rorie’s tone suggested his mind was far away, as he’d returned to admiring the wands around the suite.
Renny grabbed clothes from his dresser and closed himself in the bathroom after removing his crown and cloak. Happy to be removing his uncomfortable attire, he wondered how to wrap his mind around Rorie. His mate seemed to think all he had to do was figure out how to get home, and it would delight Renny to return with him.
Renny didn’t want to be a jerk, but leaving D’Vaire? The thought was unbearable. How could he ask Dra’Kaedan to give up their family? It was impossible for Renny to say good-bye, and he did not want to try. Renny tied his sneakers swiftly and closed his eyes to quiet his mind. It was too early to bog down their acquaintance with so many problems. The last thing he’d ever wanted was a contentious relationship.
While he loved everything about Dra’Kaedan, it was not his dream to have a matebond fueled by the fiery arguments that his warlock enjoyed having with Brogan. Renny liked peace, and his goal was to have it. To do that, he had to remain agreeable and focus on one issue at a time. As he strode back into the bedroom, he promised himself he’d be no man’s doormat either. Rorie would not be in charge; they needed to find compromises to persevere.
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.
Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.