Dragon Alliance by Stephanie Burke #PNR #UrbanFantasy #GayRomance #NewRelease @changelingpress @Flashycat

Can Iffear and Vulwin survive the results of their mating?

 

Dragon Alliance (Dragon 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Gay,
Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures, Magic, Shapeshifters

Iffear comes to Vulwin at his most vulnerable, but as their magical enemies and a plot to destroy the Dhrovish throne make themselves known, the newly mated couple find themselves drawing closer together in order to survive.

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke

“So, this is nice.” In his human skin, Vulwin, aka Win Arcarius, was an unmistakable albino black man with long, pale blond hair and bi-colored eyes that were to die for — or at least that was what his agent believed. He looked around his new quarters and gave them an approving smile.

He was tall, sleekly muscled with large eyes, one green eye and one silver, that peered out at audiences from a set of lashes so long they looked like they had to be fake. His cheekbones were high, his lips were full, his skin was an extremely pale tan, and his attitude, like his clothing, was fierce.

Beside him walked his proud mate, his dragon, who was wearing a tight, white tank top, a pair of tight denim jeans, and the most kick-ass pair of black riding boots that the world had ever seen. Probably because they were Dhrow-made and designed with his protection in mind.

In comparison, Win looked ready for the runway in his long, flowing red tunic and loose black pants. He was wearing black leather sandals on his feet and was resplendent in his gold jewelry… huge bangles on his wrists, several delicate chains in his ears, and rings on every finger and toe. He was a model in every sense of the word, and walking into this upscale tattoo shop and piercing parlor was guaranteed to bring traffic to a halt.

Strutting before them was a tiny black cat, Chinsie, who looked more of the human kind of pet than anything she looked like Under the Hill. Around her neck was a spiked collar of gold, and she moved with the same protective attitude she had presented before. She was a bad-ass and she knew it.

Once inside the small brownstone mansion, Chinsie took off like a shot to a bay window covered in plush silence pillows, obviously her spot in the shop front room, and perched herself like royalty.

“I thought you said you’d be gone for a month, bossman,” the short woman behind a tall glass counter said as she put down a sketch pad, looked up, and –”Well I’ll be damned.” Her mouth dropped open when Iffear reached out and grabbed Win’s hand.

“Plans change,” he offered, his voice deep and gravelly and still enough to put a shiver in Win’s loins. Was there ever a case of a creature passing on being in heat to another creature of a different species? He still didn’t know, but damn, he was feeling like he was in rut around his mate. “This is –”

“Win Arcarius,” the woman managed, eyes growing wide in shock. “Supermodel and spokesman for about a bazillion products. I’m sure you know you’re beautiful, but do you know how beautiful you are?” While she spoke, she not so secretly pulled her phone off the counter and began taking shots of them.

The smile that spread across Win’s lips was genuine as he pulled Iffear in closer. “Thank you.” His voice was accented in a way that most humans could not place, though the companies he represented loved it. “It’s nice of you to say so.”

At their close contact, the woman’s smile became a smirk. “Vacation, boss? Going to Europe for a month or so? So is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Mai,” Iffear groaned and Win smirked back at her. “What happened is none of your business.”

“Mai.” Win grinned. “I think I like your style.”

“Mai Wind,” she introduced herself, her purple-tipped afro adding height to her short stature. “Resident piercer and apprentice tattooist. And you better like my style. I’m wearing your name on my ass.” She hopped off her high stool and walked around to meet them, spinning around at the last minute to show the stylized WA on the back pocket of her pants. She turned to face them, holding out her hand as she drew closer. “And dare I pray you want to get your tongue pierced today? A nipple?” She pointed to his crotch. “Something in the lower region, perhaps?”

“I can’t take the time off from using my tongue to let it heal.” Win almost sounded disappointed as he shook her hand. “And if I can’t take the time to let my tongue heal, then anything lower is out of the question.”

“Ohh, kinky.” Mai chuckled before looking up at Iffear. “I hope he’s pulled you from your life of celibacy and popped your second virginity so you can stop being such a raging bitch.”

Win’s laughter was loud and obnoxious and he didn’t care. Talk about getting your roles reversed.

“Why do I like you?” Iffear snarked down at her, tapping her on the nose with his free hand. “And why haven’t I fired you yet?”

“Because I am the one who keeps your sorry ass organized. What would you do without me, boss?” She laughed, punching him lightly on the arm. “Like the time those drunk twin sorority girls –”

“So,” he spoke loudly over her, “This is my shop manager and main piercer, Mai Wind. She’s snarky.”

“I like snark.” Win chuckled.

“And Mai, this is Win Arcarius, my husband.”

 

A Year and a Day by Willa Okati #GayRomance #NewRelease #PNR @changelingpress @willaokati

 

Three stories of heartbreak, passion, and magic in the mountains of Appalachia.

 

A Year and A Day (A Year and A Day 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Gay, Second Chance

 

A Year and a Day: Nothing is going to stand in Slate’s way when it comes to getting his lover Ash back. He plans on using unfamiliar magics to call Ash back to his side — but magic always comes at a cost.

Unspoken: Once a famous vocalist, Ian has become mute for reasons no doctor can explain. At a low point, Ian encounters a strange man in his garden — a wandering musician, like the bards of old times. Andy teaches Ian love itself is one of the greatest forms of expression.

The Letter: It’s been hard, but Luke and Brandon have decided to part so Luke can follow his New York dreams. The lovers question that decision when they discover a chest of letters in their attic containing details of their relationship down to the last moment — except these letters were written in 1948. Should they reconsider their choices? The answer is in the final letter…

 

Get it at Changeling Press

also available in paperback

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Willa Okati
Excerpt from A Year and a Day

Six o’clock in the morning, and the sun was just beginning to glow over the horizon. Faint whispers of red and pink light crept through Slate’s bedroom window, painting stained-glass pictures on his ceiling. He lay awake on top of the covers, staring at them. “You know, there’s folk who say they see the face of the Virgin Mary in a squash,” he said out loud, to himself. “Wonder if I look hard enough, I’ll see my lover’s face in the sunlight?”

He snorted. Fool’s dreams. A year since Ash had died, and he still woke up every morning expecting to see that tousled dark head lying on the pillow next to his. Every night, he dreamed of the two of them in that same bed, arms and legs tangled around each other, limbs straining as they made love. Slate let his eyes flutter half-shut, imagining he could feel Ash’s strong young hands skating over his skin, laughing about measuring him by spans. He licked his lips, fancying he might be able to taste the salt.

No. Nothing. Just his own flavor, that of a man who’d brushed and swished before falling on top of his bed sometime around three a.m. Sterile, minty, lonely as hell. He’d trade any number of fresh morning breaths for one kiss from Ash, breaking apart to laugh about who ate what the night before.

No more kisses from Ash, anymore. No more anything.

The sunlight grew stronger, stretching across Slate’s ceiling. In times past, he’d have had a rooster out back, lord of the coops, standing on top of the henhouse and letting out a mighty crow. There were those who said that was an old wives’ tale, but they hadn’t met the ugly old beast he and Ash owned.

He’d sold that critter not long after… after… Well, mornings were hard enough to face. Almost as bad as the nights. Daylight meant another night without sleep, meant another day to get through without his lover.

Turning on his side, he stretched one arm across the smooth expanse of made-up covers beside him, not mussed in the least. Blankets tucked in smoothly, pillow plump and fat. Ash’s side of the bed. A year to the day, and he wasn’t able to bear sleeping in the middle, or even crossing sides of the bed. He had tried, once. Lain in Ash’s place, hoping he’d have a good dream.

Hadn’t worked. He’d seen that day in the barn over and over inside his mind, so crystal clear in his thoughts as if it were happening all over again. Ash, gasping for air. Ash, falling. Himself, down on the hard-packed dirt, Brown Sugar getting all agitated and kicking her stall. Finally remembering to call 911.

Firemen. Paramedics. His friend Marianne and her lover Zillah trying to draw him aside, and when he wouldn’t go, being muscled back by two big, strong men in yellow suits. Sinking down on a bale of feed and feeling their soft, womanly hands on his back, his shoulders, trying their damnedest to soothe. He hadn’t paid them a bit of mind. Everything in him had been focused on Ash, lying so still… so still…

Someone in a uniform had come to talk to him after a spell. He could still remember the man’s words, letter-perfect. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kincaid. Slate. He’s young, but best as we can tell he had a heart attack before he fell. It does happen to some men this young. Do you know if he had any congenital heart defects?”

Slate had shaken his head, baffled. “No… not Ash… he was fine. Never said a word about anything wrong with him.”

“He might not have,” the uniform allowed. “The fall did break his neck, though. There’ll have to be an autopsy –”

There Slate had lunged up from where he sat, raging at the man telling him this news in a voice schooled to be soft and sympathetic. Liar. He hadn’t felt a damn thing. “You’re not cuttin’ him up.”

Marianne and Zillah had managed to drag Slate back into a sitting position, and they’d held him there. Strong for women, they were. “I’m sorry for your loss,” was all the uniform had said, before he went back to the scene of the… where Ash lay, cooling off in the dirt.

Slate hadn’t cried then. He still hadn’t, one year later. His eyes burned with the need to, but no matter how many times his lady friends offered their shoulder, he hadn’t been able to coax out a single drop.

Grieve, they’d told him. You have to mourn him, Slate. Otherwise you’ll never be able to let go.

Damn them. He didn’t want to let go. And as long as he had reminders, he wouldn’t have to.

Rolling over again, he reached out to touch the leaves of a pretty plant on his bedside table. Glossy green leaves shaped like hearts, bell-like flowers. Foxglove. Digitalis. “You did have a heart problem,” he whispered. “And you didn’t tell me. I think I might just hate you a bit for that, Ash. Always had to be messin’ around with your herbal medicaments. So sure you had it under control.” His hand tightened into a fist. “Didn’t you know you can’t fix something like this without goin’ under the knife? Did you really think your herbs and your potions would fix it all? Damn you, lover. Why didn’t you tell me?”

But as when he’d asked those questions, every single morning as he rose out of his bed, there were no answers. There wouldn’t be, either. Dead men didn’t talk.
No matter how much one might want them to.

Ash’s radio kicked on as the time ticked over to six-fifteen. Dimly, Slate knew he should have been getting up, too, but damned if he could find the energy to rise. Still fondling a leaf of the foxglove between his fingers, he listened to good old Patsy Cline singing about how she was crazy, crazy for feeling so blue. He thought — not crazy at all. It’s hell to be by yourself when you were promised forever.

He closed his eyes and remembered a certain morning when Ash had been the first to wake. Slate had still been asleep, drowsing past the sunlight’s first peek into the sky. Normally he was the one to rise earliest, but not this time. He remembered Ash’s warm arms sliding across him, the man molding himself to Slate’s side. They’d been playing Elvis that morning. “Love me tender,” Ash had sung into Slate’s ear, following it up with a nip to the lobe, then soothing the sting with the tip of his tongue. “Love me true…”

“And I do,” Slate had said. “Come here and give me a kiss.”

Ash had folded gladly into his arms. They were young and horny; it hadn’t been long before they’d been writhing against one another, hard cocks bumping together. He’d come just from the feeling of his lover on top of him, so desperate for him that neither of them had been able to wait.

Now, he woke in the same clothes he’d laid down in, on top of the covers instead of beneath them. Woke, if he’d slept at all, which to be frank, he hadn’t. Is this grief? he wondered. Is this mourning? The women push, push, pushed at him. But he had to deal with things in his own time, at his own pace.

Besides, he had some secret, certain plans they didn’t know about…

 

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Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

You can reach Willa at willaokati@gmail.com.

Join Willa on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/willa.okati.

 

 

Wanderer’s Rest by Emily Carrington #shifters #GayRomance #PNR #NewRelease @CarringtonEmily @changelingpress

 

When Michael mates with a lusty hawk shifter he knows it’s for life.
But Garrett has other plans……

 

Wanderer's Rest (A Pack of His Own 3)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Gay, Shapeshifters, Werewolves

 

When Michael has sex with a lusty hawk shifter, he thinks they’re mated for life. However Garrett isn’t one of Michael’s people, and he doesn’t understand the traditions — and very real consequences — that go with having a good time in bed.

Will their forced mating ruin their lustful desires, or feed the flames instead?

Publisher’s Note: This book is part of a series, and is best read in order.

 

Get it at Changeling Press

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Emily Carrington

Michael stood in the doorway to the bedroom where the unmated wolves of the eros pack to which he belonged slept. An eros pack was different from a straight one. The latter was, traditionally, composed of straight wolves who were full citizens, and LGBTQ, psychic wolves who were not. Eros packs had originally been invented to establish a place where psychic werewolves could be equals.

Michael scowled down at the body. His mind was taken up with werewolf history — namely description of packs — because he didn’t want to think about the task ahead: finding the assassin. Outside, the second or third snow of January was falling, but in here it was hot and the heat boosted the stench of blood, shit, and urine.

The wolf lying on the floor hadn’t been killed here. The drag marks left in the carpet were all too evident. So, the question was: where had he been killed? And who had murdered him?

Michael found himself praying that the murderer was from outside the Rowan pack even though the placement of the body made that unlikely. If the culprit was from within the Rowan pack —

But Michael cut off the thought cleanly there. This wasn’t the Rowan eros pack any longer. Rowan Alec was just over six months dead. This pack had no leader besides Michael, Rowan Alec’s beta, and no name except “formerly known as the Rowan pack.”
The artist formerly known as Prince. In spite of the situation, Michael smiled. It wasn’t as if he’d liked the wolf who had died. A troublemaker and an upstart, Joseph had been a thorn in Michael’s side even when Rowan Alec still lived. Too submissive to be a serious threat to most of the dominant wolves, Joseph had always been starting fights with the wolves ahead of him and the ones just beneath him in the pecking order.

Well, now someone had ended his troublesome existence and Michael wasn’t sorry to see him gone. But death in the pack meant danger, and he would not see this pack — Alec’s pack — fall apart. And besides, he thought as he began to follow the drag trail toward the back of the Rowan pack’s large, single story house, someone deserved to pay for Joseph’s death.

The trail of blood and other bodily fluids led outside. Michael trudged, barefoot and uncaring, into the snow. About three dozen steps from the house, close to the fence at the back of the property, he found the killing ground. It was mashed snow and mud, blood and gore. Michael couldn’t fathom why those who had killed Joseph had bothered to move his body into the house. After all, this was just as good a place for a corpse as any.

Unless, he thought, they wanted me to find it when I came in to do my daily check on Henry. The most submissive of Michael’s wolves, Henry had been slipping away little by little over the past half a year. Spending as much time on four paws as on two feet, Henry had been fired from his job for missing too much work. He’d stopped bathing on a regular basis and there was an unhealthy dullness to his fur. Michael had taken it upon himself to check on Henry every day when getting home shortly after five, and he usually found the submissive in the bedroom shared by the five — well, now four — unmated wolves.

Actually, there were still five, Michael being the fifth. But he’d reluctantly taken over Rowan Alec’s bedroom. Not because he thought he deserved it but because it was the expected thing. Rowan Alec had been unmated, but as alpha it was his prerogative to have his own room. And since Michael had stepped into Rowan Alec’s place, it had made sense to take over his space as well.

Maybe —

“I love you.”

— unmated by choice. Michael was disturbed by the thought that his alpha had loved him. Maybe it shouldn’t bother him now that Rowan Alec was gone but it did. Not because Michael wasn’t attracted to male wolves; he was aroused by both genders. But because, frankly, Rowan Alec had been too dominant to be Michael’s type.

Forcing himself back to the present, Michael scented around the killing ground until he discovered the identities of the two wolves who had teamed up to kill Joseph. They were wolves in the Rowan — in Michael’s pack, and he sighed. He would have to deal with them. He needed to find out why they’d killed Joseph. They were just above him in the hierarchy. Surely no matter how offensive Joseph hadn’t deserved the ignoble fate of being set upon by two wolves more powerful than he. Any fight that had reached killing level should have been brought to Michael to settle.

I hope none of our neighbors saw the murder. Especially since Joseph was in human form when he was killed. Michael would have to call in professionals, SearchLight operatives, to clean up any loose ends, meaning humans who had seen too much. At least I know the right SearchLight agent to call.

Michael trudged back toward the house after considering the killing ground for another moment and deciding he’d have to ask the cleanup crew to take care of that as well. The only good thing was that the wolves who had killed Joseph weren’t in the house. Michael wouldn’t have to deal with them until they got home.

Assuming they come home. He sighed. That was a bit of food he wouldn’t chew until he had to.

He found himself wishing those specific wolves would do something stupid and force either SearchLight or Firos William, leader of all North American werewolves, to end their miserable existences. Just so I don’t have to kill two friends.

 

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Emily Carrington has been writing m/m erotic romance (specializing in urban fantasy) since 2010. She is currently branching out into the other letters of the LGBTQ rainbow. She lives in Maryland with her guide dog. For short stories about the main and side characters in her books, please visit her website.

Website: emilycarrington.com/

Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/4619715.Emily_Carrington

Facebook: facebook.com/emily.carrington.370

Twitter twitter.com/CarringtonEmily

The Recruit by Julia Talbot #GayRomance #NewRelease #PNR #shifters @changelingpress @juliatalbot

 

One wolf who’s lost everything. One kitty who doesn’t play well with others.
One hell of a team.

 

The Recruit (Alpha Squad 1)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Gay, Men in Uniform, Shapeshifters, Werewolves

 

When Alpha Ops team leader Tuck’s last mission goes terribly wrong, he and his team are put on hiatus until they can get their proverbial stuff together. His guys are starting to get restless, and a bear shifter, a couple of predatory birds, and a fox can be pretty impatient when they’re bored. When their benefactor decides a new team member will be their salvation, Tuck has no choice but to accept.

Jayden isn’t interested in working with a team who really wants nothing more than to kick his butt. As a cougar shifter, he’s perfectly happy to work alone. So why does Tuck make him want to stay? The two of them have to find a way to work out their issues, or the team may never get another job. Good thing they have enough attraction to keep them going, even when everything else is going off the tracks.

 

Get it at Changeling Press

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Julia Talbot

Jayden Fell bounced as he waited for his contact. He was so fucking bored. So bored. He needed to do something, anything that was fun and exciting and… Look at that. That was a pretty man. Lupine, he’d bet, bitchy, but pretty. Fuckable.

The guy was moving slow, looking around. Cautious.

Whoa. Looking for him, he’d bet.

Jayden wondered how long it would take. He could tell the moment the man scented him. That big body vibrated with awareness. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He chuckled softly, his ears twitching. Not yet. This was too much fun.

The guy turned in a circle, frowning. “Look, I’m supposed to meet a contact here, but a member of my team died last time out, so I’m a little twitchy. Show yourself before I start shooting shadows.”

“That sucks. I mean, you can shoot at me, but that wouldn’t be very friendly.”

“I’m not feeling friendly.” Listen to that growl.

“Goodie.” Jayden didn’t need this shit. He wasn’t a fucking applicant. He was supposed to have this contract already.

“Where the hell are you?” The man turned and looked right at his hiding spot.

“Are you blind or am I that good?” He slid out of the shadows, letting himself be seen.
That got him an even deeper scowl. “Just give me whatever information I’m supposed to get from you.”

He let one eyebrow lift. “Obviously we’re waiting for the same thing, then. Information.”

“What?” Dark eyebrows rose high. “You’re the courier.”

“The courier? Me? Hardly.”

“Then who are you?”

“I was told you were my pick up. Tucker, yes?”

“That’s me.” Tucker drew up, still frowning. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Time to hasta. Jayden wasn’t sure what had gone wrong, but it sure had.

Tuck grabbed his arm. “No. Tell me.”

“Hands off, pup.” He growled softly, giving a clear warning. “I don’t need to be fucked with.”

“Then tell me what the hell you were told. I can’t leave without whatever you were supposed to give me.” The voice was more wolf than man now.

“I was told my team leader was picking me up for training with a new team. Nothing more.”

“Team leader…” Tuck went ice cold. He pulled out a phone, punching numbers furiously. Yeah. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. Whatever this was, he didn’t need some FUBAR shit.

“Yeah. No. Get me Daniel, you fucking lying cat.” Tuck was snarling, but watching him hard.

“I’m out of here. Obviously, someone’s wires are crossed.”

“No.” The word shot out like a bullet. “You wait. If you’re on a team it’s mine, so you follow my orders anyway.”

“If your boss doesn’t trust you enough to tell you he hired a new guy, I’m out.” A team was only as strong as the lead.

“Did you not hear me?” The wolf was in his path in a heartbeat, still holding the phone to his ear. “You’re not going anywhere until I get to the bottom of this.”

“I heard you.” He just didn’t care. Two totally different things.

One hand landed on his chest when he made to pass by. The touch was like grabbing an electric fence. He blinked up, stunned into stillness. What the actual fuck?

Those golden-brown eyes flashed at him, surprise plain, but then someone came on the line of the phone Tuck held. “What the fuck? Sending me a new team member and having Lucien lie?”

The heavy brow lowered, and then his teeth bared. “I won’t do this bullshit. This isn’t how this works. If I can’t trust you… if Lucien’s being fed shit intel…”

Someone talked for a good long while on the other end, making the Tuck guy look like he was going to explode. “Then just send the right information from now on. Jesus. I take it this means we’re back in the field?”

Oh no. Nope. No way. He wasn’t going to be whatever this was. No way. He felt like he was a pawn, somehow. Jayden didn’t like that feeling. Too often it made for bullet holes in flesh.

Which burned. Like whoa. He was the anti-fan.

“Fill Lucien in on the real sit-rep, please? Assholes.” Tuck hung up, then stared at him. “New team member. Christ.”

“Apparently not. No harm no foul, man. I got no intel on you, and you got none on me. We’re solid.” Why would someone put him where he wasn’t wanted?

“No.” Tuck blocked his escape again. “My team doesn’t run in the field without you, and I’m not letting them down. Get your ass moving.”

Jayden let one eyebrow lift, let himself sink into pure D insubordination. “No.”

 

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Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest, where she’s embraced hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and potatoes to the best Tex-Mex. A full time author, Julia has been published by Torquere Press, Ellora’s Cave, and Changeling Press. She believes that everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal characters are involved.

Find Julia at @juliatalbot on Twitter, her website at www.juliatalbot.com, at Cafe Risque http://caferisque.blogspot.com andhttp://changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=66 at Changeling Press.

 

Blood Oath by Kira Stone #vampires #PNR #NewRelease #GayRomance @changelingpress

 

Unexpected consequences arise when a new
Vampire Lord is selected to endure the Blood Oath…

 

Blood Oath (Vampire Magic 5)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Renee George
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Dark Desire,
Gay, Interracial, Vampires

 

In Taggert’s Bend, the vampires love to hate the magical tricksters, and the witches hate to love the unnatural beasts. So, to keep the feuding to a minimum, the blood drinkers refrain from dining on the magicians as long as the gifted spellcasters occasionally share with them a fraction of their natural charms.

Blending the essence of the natural and unnatural has unexpected consequences when a new Vampire Lord is selected to endure the Blood Oath. Each attempt to successfully conclude the Oath only creates more chaos. Will these powerful enemies conclude the spell before an evil they fear more than each other consumes them all?

Publisher’s Note: This collection contains the previously published novellas Blood PriceBlood MagicA Marked Man, andBlood Oath.

 

Get it at Changeling Press

also available in paperback

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Kira Stone
Excerpt from Blood Magic

Lord Rainer Allen surveyed the action in the steam room. Naked, writhing bodies adorned almost every surface, perhaps twenty in total. Any one of them could be his sex partner. All he had to do was beckon, and they’d come running. Just thinking about it made him hard.

That’s where he had to stop. At thinking about it. To act on his urges would be foolish in the extreme.

Kassian nudged him with a toe. “See anything you like?” The vampire lay on his side, one leg bent up to give Rainer a good look at his nine-inch cock as he stroked it to fullness.

“Nothing I’m dying to have.” Rainer preferred men to women. He’d made no secret of it, but his openness sometimes worked against him. Kassian had been trying to seduce him since he’d transferred in from Eastern Europe. Seventy-four years was one heck of a long time to continually reject a very tempting offer.

“Liar.”

“I’d be using them, and possibly hurting them in the process. They deserve better treatment than that.”

“Use me. I don’t mind a little pain.”

Sebastian’s arrival prevented Rainer from having to answer. The blond perched on the stone bench next to his husky lover. “I see you started without me.” He took over the stroking.

Kassian put his hands behind his head and interlaced his fingers, his eyes on Rainer as Sebastian turned putty into stone. “What took you so long?”

“Door alarm went off.” Sebastian kissed the inside of his lover’s knee.

Rainer watched the landscape of the black leather stretched across the blond’s lap change from a plateau to a mountain peak. Kassian alone was dangerous enough to Rainer’s self-control. When joined by his rough and ready live-in lover, the combination was kryptonite against his inner strength. Each time it got harder to resist their enticement. Tonight he might be foolish enough, and desperate enough, to take them up on it.

Hoping there was a crisis brewing so he’d have an excuse to dodge them a few more hours, Rainer asked, “Problem?”

“No, just a neophyte who couldn’t tell his ass from a hole in the wall. He’s so fresh out of the grave he still triggered the mortal buzzer.”

Kassian lowered the zipper of Sebastian’s pants, exposing a long white column of rigid flesh. “You should’ve taken the time to show him around. Maybe by then I’d have had Rani talked into fucking us.”

Rainer stiffened in more ways than one. “No. Not going to happen. End of subject.” His denial probably would have carried more weight if he hadn’t been drooling over the sight of Seb’s cleanly shaven balls. Kass was one lucky vamp to have such a fine lover in his bed every night.

Sebastian knelt beside Rainer, brushing against his arm. Rainer closed his eyes, both fearing and desperately eager for whatever the young vampire would do next.

A velvet soft caress of his nipple sent a shaft of heat to his groin. Again and again, the head of Seb’s cock rubbed over his sensitive nubbin. Rainer sat on the stone bench, boneless, and let him toy with danger.

“Let us fuck you, Rainer. We know how to take care of you. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“No.” But the word meant nothing. Even as he spoke, his traitorous hand was gliding up the back of Sebastian’s thigh. He grabbed the blond’s firm, rounded buttock and guided him into a faster rhythm as the youthful vamp continued to fuck Rainer’s masculine tit. Such a little thing, but it was more than he’d permitted any other being to do in a long, long time. It felt so good.

And it was, oh, so wrong.

Rainer pushed Sebastian away. “Stop. No more.”

Kassian approached from the other side. He cupped Rainer’s straining shaft. Just holding it in his cool fist. Rainer fought against the strong urge to thrust through it as Kass said, “Trust us. Seb did some research on the Blood Oath and its effect on Vampire Lords. He has it all figured out.”

“Something’ll go wrong,” Rainer protested. “It always does.”

“We know the risks and accept them.”

Sebastian scooped Rainer’s black hair away from his neck, exposing his throat. He placed dry kisses along the cords of muscle he found there.

Danger!

No shit. Rainer didn’t need his inner guard dog to warn him of impending doom. If they pressed on, someone was going to get hurt. His friends might accept the risks, but he couldn’t. He refused to endanger them just because he was tired of his hand being the only one to jerk him off.

“Enough, guys. Stop. I mean it.” Rainer stood up, moving out of their range. He looked ridiculous given the way his erect penis jutted out. Nothing he could do about that here.

Kassian swore in a language so old that very few who heard the words would be able to translate them. “You’re a coward, Rani. I really thought you had bigger balls.”

Sebastian, equally frustrated, drummed his heels against the stone bench. “You don’t trust us.”

Seb had it wrong. It was the beast inside himself that Rainer didn’t trust. The Blood Oath he’d taken upon becoming a lord was both a blessing and a curse. The rite had imbued him with mystical powers which gave him more tolerance for sunlight, allowed him to consume less blood and heightened his senses, among other benefits.

The downside of the oath was that no one, not vampire or mortal, could withstand prolonged exposure to his bodily fluids, nor he to theirs. He had no choice but to obey its demands, a slave to its requirements above and beyond his own. If he didn’t heed the warning, he’d black out for hours, as long as a whole day. Those who tried to cheat the system too many times risked death, the kind a vampire could not recover from.

The single exception was to find the one person nature had assigned as his mate. His soul mate. The one person in a world of billions who could tolerate his touch. His kiss. His intimate embrace. One person Rainer knew didn’t exist in Taggart’s Bend.

And because he’d let his friends tempt him into thinking the oath could be circumvented, however briefly, he was going to have a raging hard-on for the rest of the night. He was angry, lonely and horny as hell.

He rounded on his companions, determined to get the message across so they would stop trying to cheat the system and accept his limitations. “If trust and desire were enough, Seb, you’d be on your back right now with my cock buried so deep inside you it’d tickle your nose. If affection meant anything, I’d be begging Kassian to suck me until I came so hard he’d choke on it.”

Even a simple kiss posed considerable risk. A tongue-tangling, soul-sucking kiss. He missed the intimacy of those more than all the rest combined. Another admission Sebastian and Kassian wouldn’t understand so he didn’t bother to make it.

He pushed the thoughts of unfulfilled desires aside and finished what he had to say. “If you care for me at all, help me look for the one person in the whole freaking world who isn’t poison to me instead of spending your considerable brain power on how you can circumvent it.”

The room was very quiet when he got done talking. He glanced around and realized he’d been shouting. None of the witnesses to his outburst would meet his eye, except for a lone figure hovering at the archway leading out of the hot moist chamber. A face he didn’t recognize. Rainer stared at him until he turned his back and walked out.

Fuck. Rainer started toward another exit leading to the dressing area.

Kass continued to peel his lover out of his leather encasement as if nothing untoward had been said. “Where are you going, Rani?”

He needed some time alone, a distraction. Anything to get his mind off his raging erection. “To find the ingénue. Maybe he’ll have a problem I can solve.”

 

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Kira Stone lives in a warm cave tucked away in the remote Scottish Highlands, where a small band of ever-changing heroes serves as company. As they relax in front of a roaring fire, demons dance in leather pants and angels stroke tunes from the harp strings, while the Fae stop in to share tales from other worlds. Bound by pen and imagination, these are the folk who wait to greet you from the pages of Kira’s stories.

The who and what of Kira in this more mundane world is not what turns you on, but the words sure do – so go discover the passion that awaits you between the covers of every Kira Stone book…

Website: www.kirastonebooks.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100001644394480&ref=ts
Email: kirastone@gmail.com

 

Dragon Stone by Stephanie Burke #GayRomance #LGBT #NewRelease #UrbanFantasy #PNR @Flashycat @changelingpress

 

He is Vulwin Valas — The Silver Prince.
Heir to the Dhrovish throne, strategist, warrior… model?

 

Dragon Stone (Dragon 1)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Gay,
Magic, Shapeshifters, Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures

 

His Shining Majesty, King of the Dhrovish Throne, has one son, the Silver Prince Vulwin Valas who is a prince, a strategist, a warrior, and a… model?

In the human world, Prince Vulwin Valas is known as Win Arcarius, openly gay, very promiscuous, and one of the most highly sought-after models ever. To the Fae Realms, he is known as the Silver Shadow, the King’s assassin, and someone not to be crossed.

A routine visit home suddenly becomes more complicated, and Vulwin finds himself with a new mate, a new enemy, and a future he never considered before with… a dragon.

Iffear comes to Vulwin at his most vulnerable, but as magical enemies and a plot to destroy the Dhrovish throne make themselves known, the newly mated couple finds themselves drawing closer together in order to survive.

 

Get it from Changeling Press

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Stephanie Burke

Vulwin would have never noticed the male if it hadn’t been for the cat.

Really, in this age of mass hysteria about the agents of evil, who was brave enough to walk around with a cat in tow? And not only that, the cat was huge, black, and definitely noticeable.

The second thing he noticed was the chains around the male’s wrists, waist, and neck — rather his corded waist, very thick wrists, and a neck that was exposed due to his lack of hair.

He didn’t have a chance to contemplate this event further because his king, with a boding voice, bade him approach. He entered the audience chamber and ignored the massive set of silver doors that slammed shut behind him.

“I see you have returned to us from the realm of man.” The king eyed him from the top of his tousled hair to his bare feet. “Unscathed?”

Vulwin nodded, standing tall before his king. “That I have, Your Shining Majesty.” Vulwin wanted to smirk at the man, indeed he did, but common sense prevailed and he contained his amusement at this old familiar back and forth.

“Strip.” The order was given negligently as the king turned to speak to one of his many advisors.

Vulwin looked around the chamber. Some things never changed. His king’s pet crows still perched along the rafters of the dimly lit room. A mixture of candles and old fashioned gas lights gave the whole chamber a yellow tinge, while burning incense took away that odd smell that filled the chambers because of the gas lights.

This audience chamber was dominated by the huge circular throne platform. It stretched along the back wall, its concave design dominating the small room. In the center sat the highest chair, the throne of the king, draped in furs and embroidered silks given as tribute from faraway lands. On either side of the throne sat two chairs, one for each of His Majesty’s advisors who helped him maintain peace and order in the realms.

Knowing that he would be ignored until he complied, Vulwin let go of the human glamour he wore, his long, pale gold hair disappearing with a subtle flow of light, lengthening until it became the knee-length silvery white that helped lend him his second name, Valas — silver in the old tongue.

As the light passed over his body, it took along with it his human skin tone — the pale gold that humans called albino and that his human manager found attractive — and in its place his natural skin bled through.

Valas was proud of his skin tone, black as the starry night with a tracery of brilliant stars that gleamed when the light hit it just so. Others called his complexion speckled, the mark of a blessed child, and with his easy life he tended to agree with those old tales. No one else in the realm had skin like his and he was proud to show it off, a little miffed that his current assignment had him hiding it from prying eyes, but content to be smug about it when he was summoned to make his periodic trips home.

Removing the glamour was but the first step. With a wave of earth magic, he conjured from the floor a low table that sprouted forth like a small tree. It grew to about waist height and then Vulwin began to carefully remove the jewelry that adorned his body, starting with the delicate chains and hoops of gold that swung daintily from his long, pointed ears.

Unlike other Fae, the Dhrovish could be identified in an instant from the long, arching ears that rose up majestically from the sides of their heads. It was a point of pride to sport the most perfectly arched ears and the Dhrovish adorned them properly to show off their shape. He knew that Elvhenkind often looked down upon the Dhrovish for their midnight complexions and their large, ungainly ears, but he thought they were overcompensating for their lack by harping on the subject. Besides, a good, large set of ears generally meant that the Dhrow was sporting something thick and meaty between his thighs.

Oh yes, Vulwin Valas had a massive set of ears.

The necklaces of gold followed and the many rings that adorned his fingers and toes were removed next. Then the human clothing was carefully pulled off and folded, the long tunic of black silk, the loose fitting pants, and the anklets with their tiny bells.

He wore no underpants — he couldn’t get used to that human concession — so he stood there naked save for the thick swirl of ornate gold rings that encircled the base of his cock, his chastity device.

He stepped back from the conjured table and turned his gaze to his king…

 

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Have You Been Flashed?

It’s the question Stephanie Burke is asking. Stephanie is a multi-published, multi-award-winning wife and mother of two whose unparalleled imagination causes her no end of trouble. From sex shifting shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, up to sexually confused elemental fey and homoerotic mysteries, all the way to pastel challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is co-founder of the charitable organization Write 4 Hope, co-creator of the Japanese Culture and Anime Convention Mikomicon, home-school mom, English tutor, an orator on her favorite subject of writing and world building, a sometimes teacher when you feed her enough coffee and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching more and varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and interracial stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

You can find Stephanie at
TheFlashcat.net
Facebook.com/TheFlashCat
Flashycat2004@aol.com
Theflashcat.tumblr.com

 

 

Angel’s Eye by Katerina Ross #NewRelease #BDSM #PNR #GayRomance @evernightpub

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The Son’s of Gomorrah 3. Angel’s Eye by Katerina Ross

Title: The Sons of Gomorrah 3. Angel’s Eye

Author: Katerina Ross

Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Published: 14 December 2018

Length: 25,000

Keywords: M/M, paranormal, dark, bdsm

Add to Goodreads

The Sons of Gomorrah is a paranormal M/M series set in Prague. It’s a beautiful city where anything magical might happen…but sometimes it’s dark magic.

Blurb: For Tristan Todorov, formerly a freelance magician and now a consultant on occult matters, living with an incubus turns out to be rather challenging. Not only because there’s little information on incubi, Gomorrah pleasure demons. Jarek, the one he has a contract with, has a fiery personality and a dark past, and sometimes he’s a mystery Tristan can’t decipher.

When Tristan ends up in possession of an illegal artifact with peculiar powers, he hopes it might help him and Jarek to finally understand each other. Will it be a blessing indeed—or a curse that might put them both in danger?

Purchase links:

The Sons of Gomorrah on Amazon

Angel’s Eye on Amazon

Angel’s Eye on Smashwords

Angel’s Eye at Evernight Publishing (it’s cheaper here!)

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Excerpt

In the shower, Tristan discovered there was a bruise where Jarek had been gripping his hip, in addition to the hickeys. He poked at it experimentally. It was strangely enticing, to be marked like that. He wouldn’t mind if Jarek joined him, like he often did, and explored his skin under the hot spray in search for more marks of the same origin, but Jarek stayed away this time and Tristan couldn’t muster enough cheekiness to call him.

During breakfast, they always bumped into each other in the tiny kitchen, and Tristan liked it. Particularly when Jarek wore nothing but boxers, like now, and sometimes even less. Today, however, Jarek kept his distance, and it was a tad worrying, but Tristan withheld from commenting on it.

It wasn’t until Tristan started washing the dishes when Jarek finally slipped closer. Very close. He caged Tristan in against the counter, one arm on each side of his body, not quite pinning him but also not giving him anywhere to go. He licked a swath of skin below Tristan’s ear, which was a nice way to start a conversation.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I? Tonight.”

Maybe it was easier for him to talk when Tristan wasn’t looking.

It was the same for Tristan. If it made Jarek forget his nightmare, he didn’t mind a little rough, and he had no problem with saying that, face to face. But he had something else to admit, and it was better doing it like this.

“Uh. I liked it, actually.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Jarek whispered into his nape. His hands hiked up Tristan’s t-shirt, slid underneath it, but not demanding this time, just tenderly wandering up and down Tristan’s flanks. “I … you see, it wasn’t … I wouldn’t normally…”

Jarek seemed to be uncharacteristically out of words.

Tristan turned, facing him now, but still pinned to the counter by Jarek’s whole body.

“It’s really fine. I know you would have stopped if I said I didn’t like it.”

Jarek avoided his gaze.

“I’m usually more … calculating. In the sense, how would it feel for you if I do this, how you’re going to respond if I do that. I’m not supposed to be…”

“…enjoying yourself?”

“More like losing control. Don’t get me wrong, I get off on this kind of scheming. I guess it’s natural for incubi, watching for reactions, striving to get it right. It’s part of the fun, doing a detective’s work while shagging. Or a psychologist’s. So I’m enjoying myself perfectly well. But tonight … it was a bit egotistic, wouldn’t you say?”

Tristan leaned in to nip at Jarek’s lower lip, rubbed his nose against Jarek’s. “Hey, it’s called spontaneous sex.”

Jarek sighed like he hadn’t been entirely convinced, but answered with a slow open-mouthed kiss to Tristan’s chin, licking down his neck after that to lave at the spots where he’d left suck marks last night.

“Sorry about those,” he murmured. He sounded genuinely apologetic.

Tristan let out a small laugh, embarrassed to confess they fascinated him. “That could be a way to tell us two from each other, I guess.”

“You could mark me, too, if you want,” Jarek suggested, but there was unusual hesitancy in his voice.

About the author: Katerina Ross lives in Russia and works as a journalist. There are no M/M romance publishers in her country, so she writes hot and kinky M/M stories in English.

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