Dragon Heart by Stephanie Burke #GayRomance #LGBT #DarkFantasy #UrbanFantasy #NewRelease @changelingpress @FlashyCat

 

Will Vulwin and Iffear’s quest for justice and revenge
lead to war between two Fae factions?

 

Dragon Heart (Dragon 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Gay Romance
Dragons Elves & Magical Creatures, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance

 

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Vulwin and Iffear know who was responsible for the attempts on their lives and how these attacks were carried out; they now only need to discover why. Seeking revenge could shatter the tentative peace and reignite the war between two Fae factions, but blood spilled in hate demands justice. How far will they go to fulfill a blood oath and see the Dragon Stones laid to rest once and for all?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke

“I will kill them all.” Vulwin wasted no time in breaking the magic circle he had created and stumbling down the stairs to his Dragon.

Mai hustled after him, looking as incensed as a Brownie could look as she flicked her fingers at him, cleaning him up and changing his clothes into a longer black tunic as he moved.

Vulwin had several things on his mind at the moment, but first he wanted to be with his mate. He left the wooden stairs and made it to the bedroom where Chinsie still sat beside a slumbering Iffear.

“Well, the link is broken to the chain and the poison,” Mai informed him as he moved into the bathroom. There was a popping sound and a smell of fresh herbs filled the air. “But you might want to bathe him to remove the rest. I have drawn a bath of elderberry, honeysuckle, plantain, and comfrey. It should soothe his pain and pull out what is left of the poisons in his system. I’m going to burn these sheets and change the bed… and then you can tell me what that grateful soul whispered to you.”

“A name, Mai,” Vulwin spoke softly as he unwound his Dragon from the blanket that encased him as Chinsie looked on. “It gave me a name.”

Mai tilted her head to the side and considered her friend’s mate for a moment. “I am to assume that this name will cease to be?”

“You can be assured that his direct line will cease to be,” Vulwin growled, but the aggression was restricted to his voice as he tenderly cradled his Dragon in his arms. His eyes filled with love as he stared down at Iffear.

“Bathe.” Mai waved her hand toward the waiting bath. “Get out and take your romantic nonsense with you. I have work to do. Chinsie and I are going to ward this house properly now that my secret is out.”

“Iffear didn’t know?” Vulwin pulled his eyes away from his mate long enough to ask.

“He suspected, but then he left me to my privacy. He gave me a choice. He has always given me choices. He’s cool like that.”

“Yes, he is,” Vulwin agreed before turning and exiting the room, his mate in arms, and he felt powerful Brownie magic begin to cleanse the air.

He had no idea how long he sat in the tub, cradling his mate close before Iffear jerked in his arms, his eyes snapping open.

“Settle,” Vulwin purred at Iffear, hugging him tighter to his chest. “Settle, my Dragon.”

“What happened?”

Vulwin smiled to discover not a hint of weakness in his mate’s voice. He watched, amazed, as Iffear sat up, his eyes traveling around the room, before he turned and centered his gaze onto him. “Vulwin?”

“You were poisoned.”

Iffear’s eyes widened at that before a low growl rolled from his throat. “How?”
His hand went to his chest, going to grip the amulet, and he started when he discovered that there was nothing there. Again his gaze went to Vulwin for an explanation.

“I sang it to rest, my Dragon. The soul is at peace.” Vulwin felt the tension leave his mate as he relaxed against him again.

“Yes.” Iffear was nodding. “I don’t feel its lure anymore, nor its cries of pain.” He looked up at Vulwin, his red eyes glittering in joy. “I thank you, my mate.”

“It was also how you were poisoned.” Vulwin knew that his voice had deepened in anger, but he couldn’t help himself. Someone had tried to make him suffer, to take away the one thing that he held most dear.

“It would not have killed me.” Iffear sniffed. “I am virtually indestructible, even more so with your protections holding me safe.” He waved the threat away. “It was a stupidity of their belief system and outdated information, I would assume.”

“Yet they did this to annoy me? To claim my vengeance? To start a war? It doesn’t make sense.” Vulwin reached out and pulled his Dragon into his arms, inhaling his scent, feeling his body warm and alive in his arms. “Why?”

“Miscalculation, I suppose.” Iffear hugged Vulwin back just as hard. “I am sorry I scared you.”

“Having a mate passing out mid-coitus will do that to a Dhrow.” Vulwin relented and joked a little, though he was still horrified at the thought of losing his mate. “You stole years of my life away.”

Iffear snorted, flicking him on the nose with a wet finger. “You haven’t even reached maturity yet, Dhrow. You have years to spare. And then you can’t start losing them until after our son is grown. Seeing you have a neat piece of contraception jewelry, um… thrust upon you, that won’t even happen until the king decides to release you.”

Iffear chuckled but stopped as Vulwin stiffened in his arms. “Say that again?”

“No son, because you haven’t reached your majority?” Iffear pulled back enough to look back up at him again. “Contraception ring?”

“It is not common knowledge that I have not yet reached the age of my majority,” Vulwin said carefully as his mind roared with plots and information and schemes. Being politically minded was a bitch some days, but in other ways it did more than make one suspicious of everyone else’s motives. Sometimes it pointed you in the correct direction whether you wanted it to or not.

Shifter Rescue: Scales by Sean Michael #BDSM #GayRomance #UrbanFantasy #shifters @changelingpress @seanmichael09

Sometimes life gives you something magical –
if Drill can rescue a dragon that is.

 

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures, Gay, Shapeshifters

 

Sometimes life gives you something magical — if Drill can rescue a dragon that is.

The Old Tavern Club is a front for a shifter rescue organization. The BDSM club works well in keeping the owner’s true purpose secret, but when Pirou makes an unusual rescue, it might just be beyond the club’s purview. So he calls in Drill, the owner’s brother.

Drill has never even heard of a dragon shifter before, much less seen one, yet that’s exactly what the beast in the club’s basement looks like. As he works with the dragon, he finds all his instincts insisting that this is the sub he’s been looking for.

Can Drill and the dragon rescue a happy ending for themselves?

 

Get it at Changeling Press

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Sean Michael

Drill headed into the Old Tavern Club, the subtle BDSM club that was the front for his brother Drongo’s shifter rescue operation. Having members who needed discretion and wouldn’t blab themselves if they saw weird things made the place legit and let them offer safe places for their rescues to stay. Only a handful of people who worked in the club knew what was really going on.

He smiled at the twink working the coat check tonight. He’d had that ass a time or two. Over his knee, around his cock. As a part of his cover as a club member, of course.

Heading for the bar, he smiled at Fargo. “Whiskey, neat. And tell Pirou I’m here, please.” Here as requested, summoned almost, although Pirou would never, ever admit to anything so… toppy.

“You got it. How’s life treating you, man?”

“Good. I’m building a third golf course on the far side of the city.” He made a good living with the golf courses, and the best part was that they practically ran themselves, giving him a lot of time for his true passion — helping with the shifters that made their way here.

It was Pirou who answered him, Fargo fading away to the other end of the bar. “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it.” There were heavy lines of worry on Pirou’s face and they looked totally out of place.

The slinky kitty worked hard, but Drill knew he loved his job, was happiest working at it, helping people.

Reaching out, he touched Pirou’s cheek. “So why did you call me down here?”

“I need help.” Pirou was usually far more loquacious than that.

“I figured that much out, sweet kitty. I’ll be needing more details.” In the end, though, he imagined he’d help Pirou, just because it was Pirou.

“Come walk with me?”

Oh, it must be bad. He picked up the whiskey Fargo had brought and downed it. “Okay, lead on.”

Pirou took his hand, fingers sliding on his, touching and playing.

He brought their hands to his mouth, kissing Pirou’s knuckles. “You’re buttering me up.”

“I’m worried. I’m in big trouble with the boss.”

He found that hard to believe, given that Pirou was the soul of the Old Tavern Club. “What did you do?”

“You know how, sometimes, I find an unusual rescue and bring it in even though it’s not our usual werewolf or werekitty?”

Something like constantly? Pirou was the softest touch on Earth and had contacts everywhere. Like he was almost scarily connected.

“I have heard you have a hobby, yes.” Drill teased gently. His brother often said that he had a theory that Pirou went out of his way looking for the hard cases, for the strange beasts.

“Well, I have one downstairs. He’s… special. Like for real. Like oh, my God.”

“They aren’t all special?” He wasn’t teasing anymore — it was an honest question. He could remember the lion Pirou had taken in, the poor thing so bedraggled and abused no one had thought he’d live. No one except Pirou, who had nursed the beast back to health. Then there’d been the zebra. Talk about high-strung. They weren’t really equipped to deal with equine shifters, didn’t have anyone qualified to help them. Pirou had made it happen.

“Yeah, but most of them are normal special. Not about-to-get-me-fired special.”

“Okay, okay, you did it — I’m intrigued now.” Because Drill couldn’t imagine anything that would make Drongo fire his beloved Pirou.

“He’s in the basement. He’s sedated. I’m scared to let him wake up.”

“You’re making him sound like a serial killer.”

“God, I hope not.” Pirou’s fervent words made him even more intrigued.

They headed past the kitchen, deep into the basement. It was clean, but… uncomfortable. Underground was far away from the air, from the sky and clouds.

Drill wrinkled his nose. “A vampire?”

“No. No, he’s… Here. It’s easier to just show you. I won’t open the door, in case he’s awake.”

Drill pressed his nose against the window in the door, but it was dark and he couldn’t see anything. Before he could complain, Pirou pressed a button and a light came on highlighting a shape draped over the mattress, which was the only furniture the room boasted.

Long tail, wings like a bat, pointed snout, sapphire-blue scales. Whoa.

“Pirou… That’s… he’s… a dragon.” Drill was stunned.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why is he here?” There had to be a reason the dragon was one of Pirou’s special projects and sedated. Hell, Drill hadn’t even known there was such a thing as a dragon shifter. No, he hadn’t even known there was such a thing as a dragon. They were a thing of legends.

“The slavers had him. My contact said that they hadn’t managed to get him to wake yet.”

“Slavers!” That made him growl. “So you don’t know if he’s even sane or not, let alone a shifter.”

“I don’t know anything except that he’s a dragon and he needs help,” Pirou admitted.

“And you want me to help him and find out as much as I can before you have to tell my brother what you’ve done.”

“Uh-huh. Please.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Pirou.” Drill went to the door. “I’m going in.”

Wanderer’s Haven by Emily Carrington #GayRomance #LGBT #UrbanFantasy #DarkFantasy @changelingpress @CarringtonEmily

Poison, a forced marriage, untamed lust; what’s not to love?

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

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Garrett woke moderately early the next morning, which meant the sun had risen and he could see in the dimness without using his hawk-given sight. He had gone to bed confused about Michael’s odd behavior from the night before. The beta wolf had refused to share the bed that was rightfully his. Instead, he’d slept in the den — assuming he’d slept at all. He’d been acting strangely yesterday, letting Garrett put an arm around him and then pulling away. It was as if he couldn’t make up his mind.

Garrett could hear muffled sounds all around him, not in the same room but indicative of a crowded house. His heart ached for the aloneness of his house in Arizona. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t made any provision for being away for a long time beyond asking his friend Maggie to water the spider plants.

It’s not like I have pets or anything. That was true, but… well, he hadn’t meant to abandon his home. Especially not for these frozen wastes.

He groaned softly and rolled to a sitting position. He put his legs on and thought his clothes into existence. Standing, he made his way toward the door. Just as he opened it a crack, two close, lowered voices reached his ears. Garrett stood perfectly still, hoping he was upwind as well as mostly invisible thanks to the door.

“You’re spitting on our traditions,” said a voice Garrett recognized but couldn’t immediately name. He had the distinct feeling this other person had challenged Michael before.

“How, exactly?” Michael asked, his tone emotionless.

“You aren’t treating the mating bond with respect.” If the other wolf was intimidated by Michael’s flat delivery, it didn’t show.

“How?” Michael asked again, although after a pause that Garrett thought betrayed nervousness. He was right, he decided, when Michael added, “We had sex yesterday.”

“Yesterday morning. Most new couples can’t keep their hands off each other and there’s nothing but sex, as you put it, between you. Does he hold your hand? Does he submit to being guarded by you? Does he even tell you where he’s going?”

Garrett cursed silently. He had called Michael to inform him of his plans. But that had been when he was five minutes away from the house in Hamburg.

Michael was quiet for several moments. Then he replied, “Where is it written that we have to be exactly like every other couple you’ve ever met? And have all the mated pairs you’ve encountered been the same? And as for the prescribed ten times, that may be tradition but it’s arbitrary.”

“Ten is a number of power. As you well know. You should be careful, Michael. You’re pushing back against centuries of tradition. And if you keep on, we can dismiss you.”
“Donald, I think that’s Tilthos Charles’s purview, not yours. Wolf packs are not a democracy.”

“No, but the alpha will listen if there is unrest in his pack.”

“Face it,” Michael said, and real emotion entered his voice for the first time since the conversation had begun. “You just want to get rid of me. You’re hoping for a better place in the pack, or for more favor from our new alpha. You thought, with Katka and Viktor gone, that you’d have a chance to get a little higher. But you’ll have to eventually admit to yourself that you just aren’t dominant enough.”

“And you’re not dominant enough to defeat Jeremy Redpath, so you’re not beta anymore.”

Michael didn’t answer.

Garrett’s heart ached, but he couldn’t think of any way to step in that wouldn’t make Michael look weak.

“The be-all-and-end-all of it is this,” Michael said at last. “You don’t have as much power as you think you do. I’m not going anywhere, and my relationship with Garrett is none of your business.”

Footsteps approached the door and Garrett moved back quickly.

Michael entered, looked at Garrett, probably read what Garrett couldn’t quite keep off his face, and pressed suddenly trembling lips together. Then he closed the door and went across to the radio. WYRK came in clear. Garrett had no particular feelings about country music one way or the other, but he had to admit there were some more liberal songs on this station than he was used to associating with the genre.

“Well?” Michael asked. “I assume you heard all of that.”

Garrett crossed the room and took Michael’s hands. “You’re not anything less in Charlie’s eyes –” He saw Michael wince. “Sorry. It’s just that I knew him before he was an alpha. You’re not anything less in Charles’s eyes if you’re not his beta. He’s not like that. All of his people matter to him.”

“How do you know if you’ve never seen him as an alpha before?”

It was a valid question, but luckily one that Garrett could answer easily. “Because I’ve seen how he treats students, faculty, donors, and SearchLight agents alike. With respect, but in such a way that you know he won’t take any shit. And he is not going to like how Donald is bullying you.”

“He’s not going to know about that,” Michael said, bearing down on Garrett’s hands. “At least not by me. Or you.”

“Why not?”

“Because Donald’s not really a threat to me. He’s just a pain in the ass.”

Probably that was the only answer that Michael could have given that might convince Garrett not to go to Charlie right now. “So… you don’t think he can raise the pack against you?”

“I have too many friends here for him to get what he wants.” Michael sighed. “It does hurt knowing that I’m breaking traditions I’ve believed in all my life.”

“I’m not sure how to help you if having sex won’t do that.” Garrett hesitated before adding, “Because Donald’s right, at least in this: I’m not a hand-holder and I’m unused to having to answer to others for my actions. At least not unless it’s in an official capacity.”

Michael nodded, looking miserable.

Garrett reminded himself that werewolves could smell lies, so instead of spewing some assurance he didn’t mean, he took Michael into his arms and rubbed his back.

“Thought you didn’t like hand-holding,” Michael said against his shoulder.

“Being sentimental isn’t my nature. Being compassionate is.” And he kissed Michael’s hair.

“This is more than compassion,” Michael said, and he cupped Garrett’s crotch…

Turquoise Trail by Julia Talbot #PNR #UrbanFantasy #GayRomance #interracial @changelingpress @juliatalbot

 

Soldier Chino thinks he has to be alone, but Oliver
and his dragons know life is hotter together.

 

Turquoise Trail (Desert Dragons 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay, Interracial

Elemental soldier Chino heads off into the Mexican desert looking for his promised bonded. He’s a loner, but he’s not used to being this alone. The only member of his team not to bond with a dragon, he’s feeling pretty hopeless.

That’s when he finds dragon guardian Oliver, who’s injured and needs Chino’s help. Oliver knows things, deep in his soul, and he knows Chino’s real name. Can he convince Chino to stay with him and help him raise his passel of dragons?

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Julia Talbot

Chino hadn’t felt this lonely in well over five years.

He sat at a small campfire somewhere deep in the Chihuahua desert. He had a feeling these days he was on the Mexico side, even if he’d started out in Arizona. This was the place the news stories bitched about, the barren wasteland where so-called “coyotes” plied their trade.

Christ, people sent their babies out here to survive through this nightmare wasteland? Insane. Fucking insane. Insane and empty.

Which was exactly how Chino felt. No team. No backup. Just his lonely ass and a directive from the big dragon he’d grown to admire, Damien. Go to the desert below Ice. Find your bonded.

That directive should have been way more mystical, but Ice, the leader of the black ops team Chino had been a part of, was from Phoenix originally. Not tough to figure out. He felt a little like he was running around going, “Here dragon, dragon, dragon.”

Why he was the only member of the Elemental Ops team who didn’t bond with a dragon on Dragon Mountain, he didn’t know. All he knew was he was tired of freezing his nuts off at night and broiling during the day while he searched for his so-called bonded.

Maybe this was just a wild goose chase.

Send the guy off to look for imaginary dragons.

He shivered, but Chino didn’t dare build up the fire. Those news story coyotes wouldn’t hesitate to attack one man, alone in the desert. Not like the animal they were named after.

Help? The single word was soft, scared.

Chino bolted up off the camp stool he’d set up, drawing his weapon. “What?”

Help? Help us? Hear us? They’re dying. Oliver. Azul. Turquesa.

His head echoed with the noise, and Chino clapped his hands to his ears.

Ow. Okay, no one was there, and no one was speaking out loud but him. “Where are you?”

Here. This time it was odd, an echo, but just the tiniest bit off. Here-here-here-ere-ere-ere.

He tilted his head. “Do you see me?”

You’re pretty. A warrior. We see.

Pretty? Right. Chino just needed a hairnet and a gold tooth to go full-on cholo. Well, maybe he dressed up better than that, but no one had accused Chino of being pretty.

“Where are you? I can help.”

Here. There was a twitch, a slither, and then two pairs of bright green eyes blinked at him from over the top of his pack.

Two. Whoa. If he hadn’t just come from Keon’s dragon’s den, he would have thought they were lizards. They weren’t. They were poquito dragons. Like his teammate Gig’s girl, like a feathered serpent, but these were teeny. Teeny and the color of sapphires.

Wow. He blinked. “Who’s dying, chicas?”

Oliver. Our Oliver and Azul and Turquesa.

Oliver. That was a nice, normal name, huh? Kinda old-fashioned. “Take me.”

They nodded together and began to move low over the desert, and he had to call to them. “Guys? Guys, hold up. Let me grab my stuff.”

They pulled up, hovering together and, Christ, their tails were twined around each other’s. Lord have mercy. They might melt a heart as frosty as his if he wasn’t careful.

Come? Please. They bobbed together, sharp little faces so eager.

“I said I would.” Reluctantly, he put out his fire by the simple means of dumping earth over it. No sense setting the damned desert on fire.

Fire fire fire. At our house there’s a fire. It was like singing, somehow.

They were like the Siamese cats in that Disney movie. The one about the dogs.

Hopefully less destructive than those cats. Somehow he doubted it, though. They emanated pure mischief. Worried mischief right now, so Chino shouldered his pack and waved. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Follow!

They took off like fuck-starved jackrabbits, leading him deep into the desert. A man could die out here. Lots of men had. Hell, just knowing where to put his booted feet when it was night like this made him crazed. Arroyos loomed on both sides of him, cutting off his sight line.

A soft moan seemed to float up, the sound made of pure pain.

Oliver! The baby dragons screamed, sliding down into the arroyo to the left.

Chino changed direction abruptly, and went ass over teakettle down the side of the canyon wall. Ass over teakettle was one of Ice’s expressions, and now Chino knew what it meant. He came up hard against something that wasn’t a rock, but he didn’t get a chance to see what it was because two more feathered beasts — these guys aqua blue and glowing — were bashing at him with their little wings.

“Hey! Hey, come on. I’m trying to help. Ayudarte.” He tried Spanish, hoping they’d understand.

The wee sapphire dragons — who were glowing now too — got in between him and the pale ones.

We found him! We did! He’s ours to help! Oliver needs help!

“I can help.” Chino hoped. “Take me to Oliver so I can see what’s wrong.”

To his surprise the little ones began to giggle, the sound a touch insane. Beside you!

“Beside?” He turned, looking about, trying to understand what they meant.

Sure as hell, he was leaning against a body. A body. Shit.

Chino rolled up to his knees. “What the fuck?”

It was a shirtless redhead, pale as milk where the sun didn’t normally shine. What was this guy doing out here, in the night, with no gear? “You said there was a fire.”

At the house. Fiiiiiiiiiire. Warm.

The aqua dragons were fading, the light barely there. His sapphires ones were bright enough to see the way the guy’s foot was trapped under a fucking boulder.

“Shit.” Chino grabbed his emergency flashlight from his pack. It would give a little circle of light bright as daylight so he could see what he was doing. Then he grabbed his survival blanket and shook it out, covering the man. “We need to get you inside, buddy.”

A rock. A rock. A rock.

He was going to lose his mind with the random singing. He swallowed back nausea from the sudden headache and got to work clearing the smaller rocks surrounding the big one. Oh, man, he needed a lever.

“Big strong stick, guys. Need one.”

Stick. Azul. Turquesa. For Oliver.

The aqua dragons — who were about twice the size of the others — followed, tails brushing the ground. Poor babies looked exhausted.

Stick. Here. Together the four dragons brought him a piece of twisted cedar that could work for sure.

“Good job!” The praise made his dragons glow, but the aqua ones settled on the redheaded guy’s chest.

Oliver. His name was Oliver.

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.”

 

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

 

 

A Changeling for All Seasons – Volume 9 #Christmas #holidaystories#BoxSet @changelingpress

 

Cool Text - Thirteen tales of Christmas Magic from your favorite Changeling 308426189307600

 

A Changeling For All Seasons 9 (Changeling Seasons 9)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Christmas
Length: Box Set – 464 pages

Thirteen tales of Christmas Magic from your favorite Changeling authors!

Ayla Ruse — Racing Wild: A wild race can lead to anything — even love.

Anne Kane — Tinsel Wars: Braedon intends to win the final skirmish in the Tinsel Wars!

Ruth D. Kerce — Christmas Cowboy: Chaz breeds horses. What’s a cowboy supposed to do with a herd of reindeer?

Dahlia Rose — Silver Bells: Tia was the sexy little elf that made Danny Grinch’s Christmas that much hotter.

Crymsyn Hart — Sleigh Balls: Instead of snow this Christmas, it’s raining reindeer!

Lena Austin — Ghosting: Ghost hunting means sometimes you find a ghost you weren’t expecting, when you aren’t even looking.

Judy Mays — Jingle Buds: Dr. Jon Claus finds the perfect woman when Emily Olson’s grandmother gets run over by a reindeer!

Julia Talbot — Merry X-Moose: Can a were-moose and a Santa-obsessed Elf fall in love — and save Christmas at the same time?

Lily Vega — Wicked Game: All’s fair in love and war during Santa’s Reindeer Games.

CJ England — Snip! Snap! Dragon!: With a fiery Snip! Snap! a passionate modern day dragon lures his forever mate into the flames.

Ana Raine — White Stag: When the scent of peppermint reaches his nose Crane knows he has to remember or lose it all forever.

Sara Jay — Sleigh Ride: Can one magical sleigh ride deliver love to two lonely Elves?

Sean Michael — Five Golden Beads: When kinky gifts begin arriving, Shay knows it’s time for a visit from his very own special Elf.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press
Also available in print

 

Cool Text - Excerpt 308426368979630

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 The Changelings
Excerpt from Merry X-Moose (Julia Talbot)

“Seriously, Laird, you’ve lost your mind,” Laiyde said. His sister didn’t pull any punches, even with him being the head of sleigh engineering. “You do remember eight tiny reindeer, right? There’s no way Santa’s team can pull the sleigh with the extra weight you’re proposing.”

“He’s not getting any younger, Lai. Santa needs protection. This little cockpit is nothing. Hell, if Rudolph would just go full time…”

“Rudolph retired to Finland after you created that LED beam, remember?” She rolled her eyes, dark brown like his. They were twins, but thankfully she couldn’t grow a full beard like he did. That would be awkward.

“Right.” Shit. “Well, there are always a hundred young bucks competing at the reindeer games. Just get Sparkle to add two more to the team.”

His sister threw up her hands. “Just add two more. Like it’s that easy! Santa has used the same harness since the fifties! One extra attachment was added then for Rudolph. You can’t just change the whole of Christmas history every year!”

“Hey, I just want him to be safe.” Santa had slipped and damned near fallen off a house last year pulling a package out of the back of the sleigh. Laird thought about the implications of losing Santa and wanted to throw up.

“We all do. You’re going to have to redesign.” She patted his arm. “Talk to the magic team. See if they can make a bubble or something.”

“I did. They can’t make my dome lose any weight, even though they say they can equalize the pressure and keep flight horizontal without loss of velocity and altitude. Best they can do.”

“Well, that’s something.” She smiled. “I’ll make hot chocolate.”

“With star marshmallows?” Laird asked.

“Anything for you, Bro.”

“Cool. Give me an hour to go talk to Sparkle and you’re on.”

She rolled her eyes again, but didn’t say anything. She just waved him off.

Laird pulled his parka on over his flannel shirt and snow pants. While Christmas Elves were well suited to the cold climate, this time of year was brutal. The toymakers and cobblers and all never went outside right now. They had long breezeways between their dorms and the workshops.

The rest of them had to brave freezing their balls off.

He trundled down to the reindeer barns, where he knew Captain Sparkle would be putting the chosen eight through their paces. The pulling reindeer had to bulk up as much as possible between now and the big day, and they all had to learn emergency procedures and weather contingencies.

He stomped snow off his boots once he got to the barn offices, the wind howling behind him when he slammed the door shut.

“Shit, it’s colder than a well-digger’s ass out there,” he mumbled.

“I imagine that’s colder than a witch’s tit.”

Laird whirled around to face the guy who’d just walked up behind him. Then he grinned. “Depends on if it’s in a brass bra.”

“Mmm. What about a sleigh reindeer in a snowstorm’s balls?” the guy asked.

“Nothing is colder than that,” Laird said. “There’s too much ether to fight.”

“I bet. I’m Bruiser, and I’m on desk duty today. What can I do for you?”

“New guy, huh?” He smiled. New guys were few and far between. Bruiser was an amazing newcomer, taller than Elves, even, and contrary to myth, Santa’s Elves were way more Tolkien than Oompa Loompa. This guy was all leg, lanky and surprisingly tanned, with a shock of dark hair. Dark brown eyes shone with humor.