FASTER BOBCAT by Julia Talbot

DESIGNATED BOTTOMS 

With Stories by Katey Hawthorne, Kiernan Kelly, Sean Michael, Julia Talbot, BA Tortuga, KC Wells and Shannon West

Some men are bottoms by birth, others by choice. Whatever the reason, a designated bottom is someone who’s happy to surrender, to submit, or just catch instead of pitch!

In Czech Me Out, by BA Tortuga, Korde discovers what it’s like to fall for someone when food truck owner Josh takes on the cowboy virgin.

Katey Hawthorne’s gamer grad student Paul doesn’t date. He keeps things strictly physical. So why is Sammy so important to him in The Mistell?

Kitty shifter and stripper Aleks doesn’t mix business with pleasure, but he thinks Rafe might just be the master for him in Julia Talbot’s Faster Bobcat.

Sean Michael’s Peter isn’t sure about the club his friend takes him to, especially when Doms start hitting on him. Experienced Dom Rupert is happy to help, explaining about that Little Square of Cloth.

In Sgt. Hardass, by Shannon West, recent ex-Army man Jake meets up with a man he has history with, and Chad isn’t sure he can explain himself and defuse Jake’s anger.

In the Prince of Paupers by Kiernan Kelly, Prince Liam and longtime friend Deacon have to go back to Deacon’s Appalachian home, much to the prince’s dismay.

And in Switching It Up by KC Wells, Jay knows he looks like a twink, but only hunky Dean understands that looks can be seriously deceptive.

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FASTER BOBCAT by Julia Talbot

Stripper Aleksy never mixes business with pleasure. And he certainly never dates another shifter. At least until he meets Rafe at his job, and can’t resist the chance to find the master he dreams about.

Rafe knows Aleksy is what he needs for the night. He’s just not certain he wants to take on a full-time sub. What he finds out is that he can’t live without Aleksy, but will he figure it out too late?

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Story also appears in Designated Bottoms Anthology.

Excerpt from FASTER BOBCAT by Julia Talbot

“Aleksy, I need you over at table four.”

Aleksy glanced at his boss, who looked cool as a cucumber even though the damned air conditioning had gone out the day before and no one had been around to fix it. He supposed the heat made them all gleam a little more, made them look oiled and sexy.

He just hoped to hell he didn’t stink.

“Why’s that?” he asked. He had a gaggle of ladies at table six who wanted him to hang around for bottle service and musical grinding. They looked to be a huge tip, so he hated to abandon them.

“Special request.” Katia curled her lip at him, a hint of happy revenge in her expression. He had turned her down after she hired him and, while she’d taken it gracefully, she liked to put him in the most uncomfortable situations she could.

Hence taking him away from a great guaranteed tip and giving him to a private table that could only seat two, at best.

Aleksy sighed, but nodded. He liked his job at Faster Bobcat, and he had no desire to lose it by being petulant. The place was classy and the ladies rarely got grabby hands. He made some of the best money in Vegas off the strip. His boss wasn’t bitchy, but she could be a little grumpy once in a while.

He dropped off the bottle and introduced Carlo, who would take his place at the table. “Sorry, ladies,” he replied to the good-natured chorus of negatives. “Duty calls. Carlo will take good care of you.”

Then he squared his shoulders, made sure his tiny shorts covered his junk, and headed for table four.

The shadowy form sitting in the deeply recessed booth resolved itself into a strikingly handsome man with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes. Dressed in an impeccable silk shirt and gabardine trousers, the long, well-made body made Aleksy’s belly tighten. Pretty.

His boss thought he’d turned her down because she wasn’t pretty enough or something, so she was punishing him with a male client. Thing was, Aleksy had turned her down because he was queer, so this wasn’t punishment at all.

Well, except in the whole this guy was attractive and he was at work sort of way.

“Good evening, Sir. Welcome to Faster Bobcat. May I get you something to drink?”

The man looked him over, a slight smile playing around the sensual mouth. “I’d like bottle service, please. Patron, if that’s not too cliché.”

Aleksy gave an answering smile. “Anything you like is perfectly fine, Sir. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

He turned and left, feeling the weight of the man’s stare on his back. Some people were like that, their charisma like a physical touch. He took a deep breath, his muscles clenching and unclenching. Maybe the guy would be a good tipper, as nicely as he was dressed. Then Friday night wouldn’t be a complete waste.

He got the bottle, a glass, some ice just in case, and salt and lime. No munchies. His new client didn’t look like a nuts and pretzels type. They had a limited menu of premium food; he would ask later if anything sounded good.

“Here you are, Sir,” Aleksy murmured, when he returned to the table. “Would you like me to pour?”

“No, I can do that.”

Nodding, he set the tray on the table and backed off a step, hands at his sides. “I understand you made a special request for me. May I perform anything special for you?”

“For now I would simply like to look at you.” The man reached for the Patron. “Will you put your hands up behind your neck, please? I think that pose shows off a man’s body to its best advantage.”

The words made him blink. His cheeks heated, which felt ridiculous since he stripped for a living. Somehow just standing there on display seemed far more intimate than gyrating away to the music.

“What’s your name?” the client asked, which set him back on his heels again.

How could he have forgotten to introduce himself with his stage name? “Lex.”

“Lex.” The client smiled before salting the rim of his glass. “Are you an Alex or an Alexander?”

“Aleksy.” It slipped out before he thought about it. He never told clients his real name.

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AN AUSPICIOUS MOON by Julia Talbot

AN AUSPICIOUS MOON by Julia Talbot

From cat shifter to werewolves, An Auspicious Moon collects seven short stories about the animal inside.

Sit up and Beg and Sit Pretty features Killian and Evan, the werewolf and the man who saved him from captivity.

In Chew Toy, CIA agent Jack thinks being eaten by a tiger is a bad way to go. Good thing the tiger is also a man. Crate Trained sees Gary getting a bite he never expected during casual sex.

In Doggie Style, Ray thinks Doc is just a new foster pet. He’s in for a shock. Finally, in Wolfy Resolutions, Cage has no desire to go to his demon friend’s party, but it might be worth his while.

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~Excerpt~

"Sit up and beg."

"You're crazy," Killian said, fingers dancing in the air just over the collar wrapped around his neck. "I'm a werewolf, not a pet."

The collar was driving him fucking crazy. It had to weigh several pounds, and it was like those radio collars so-called scientists put on wild animals. More like sadists. Let's make the animal stand out from all the other animals so it's ostracized and killed!

That wasn't the purpose of Killian's collar. His was more like one of those sci-fi series shock collars. Misbehave and get electrocuted. Or at least fried like a hairy sausage.

No, his collar was designed to kick his ass if he tried to get loose.

The guy who had finally appeared in front of the cage his kidnappers had put him in smiled. "I guess you are, at that. At least for now. These guys? They want to make you a fighting dog. A human pit bull, if you will."

"These guys?" Killian eyed the big man, noting the faded jeans and button-down shirt, the strapped on shoulder-holster. "What are you?"

"I'm just hired security."

"Hired…" Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Anyone who could work for the guys who'd taken him as a hired gun would probably only respond to one thing. Money. That was a commodity that Killian was flat out of.

"Yep." The guy nodded, blue eyes twinkling. Maybe glinting. A glint was more shark-like, right?

"Well. Stop taunting the captive, Mr. Security."

"But it's so much fun!" The guy tilted his head. "And it's Evan."

"Why do I care?" Killian tugged at the collar again, wondering if it would just fry him if he went berserk and changed. He could do full on wolf, but that wouldn't help him. He'd have to try and maintain that transitional stage, where he was a huge, misshapen mix of man and wolf, which was tough to do even when he wasn't singing the song of electrocution.

"Because I've been thinking of letting you out of here."

Widening his eyes, Killian went for shocked. It wasn't a stretch. "What?"

Evan sighed. "You're different. I've seen maybe twenty, twenty five guys come through here in the last two weeks. They've all been… damaged. Broken, somehow. You seem like just a guy."

"I just told you I'm a werewolf, and I seem like just a guy?" That was a new one on him. He'd been called a lot of things lately, including "bitch" by the one skinny little guy with the cruel smile and cold hands, but just a guy wasn't one of them.

Shrugging, Evan smiled a little, the little curl of the upper lip kinda hot. "My mom was a were-cat. It's recessive with me, but my sister is a shifter."

Matter-of-fact and… "Wait. If your family is were-friendly, then how on earth…"

"Can I work for these guys?" Evan leaned close to the bars of the cage. "So when someone like you comes along, I can get you the hell out of here."

He blinked, just stunned as all hell. Man, it had been one weird day. His fingers grazed the collar again. "Can you get this thing off me?"

"Not without the controller." Evan's well-shaped mouth twisted a little. "I'll get it. They think I'm kinda mindless. Won't be hard."

"Says you. I can't get past the bars without falling down."

"I know." Cocking his head, Evan grunted. "You'd better make like you're still drugged up. They won't poke you until you're awake and aware. I'll be back."

Amazing, how Evan had heard their incipient company before he had. Killian thought his hearing was pretty damned good.

He curled down around himself, protecting his privates and pretending to sleep. Evan's footsteps faded away, and Killian figured that was the end of that. He'd never see the guy again.

Pity. Evan was damned pretty. Too damned pretty for Killian's piece of mind.



"What do you mean broke?" The urge to pull the phone away from his ear and stare at it was strong. Huge, because Colby couldn't stare at Little Mike in person. "Like Shiloh Walker cracked that vertebra last year?"

"Like he cain't breathe on his own no more, Colb. Like he ain't never gonna be whole." Little Mike sounded lower than a worm. "Alan's been wantin' to come on home to you, so I told him to load up all the horses and head out. He had a two hour drive to fetch them back 'fore he could get started."

Jesus. The words hit him, each one a blow to the chest. "What do you need, Mikey? You know I'll help any way I can."

"There's no help now. He's got pneumonia. He can't breathe on his own and he's done give up. You know James -- he don't want to live like this."

"I know. I-- Christ, I'm sorry, Mikey. You let me know what you need with the stuff." He meant bills or funeral arrangements or anything. Mike knew that, too. He'd come to the service, but if Mike needed him before that...

"You got it. Tell Alan to give Elvis some oats for me."

"I will." He went ahead and hung up, knowing Mike didn't need his worry or sorrow. The man had enough of his own. James was the best of all of them, and this broken neck and severed spinal cord was no way for a cowboy to go.

He tried to call Alan again and got nothing. Someone let his minutes run out again, he'd bet. Damn it, where was the damned fool? Even with going back for the horses, Alan should have been here by now. He hoped Alan knew he was still welcome, even though Colby had gotten tired of being second to the rodeo, had maybe had a little snit and not answered the phone for a bit.

This was still Alan's home, right?

God, he hoped so. Hell, he didn't know anything right now, his head reeling from what Mike had told him. He gritted his teeth. He'd need to get some stalls ready for the horses.

He assumed there were three horses coming -- Little Mike's Elvis, Alan's Joanie, and whatever little mare James had been able to afford. Alan pulled a three horse trailer and no one had called for money to rent a bigger one. Hell, Alan's truck didn't have a gooseneck hitch anyway...

Colby pushed his phone into his pocket and headed down to the barn. He'd need to feed and water, check shoes and hooves, and make sure they all got a vet check-up this week.

Dust started billowing near the gate, the big metal thing sliding open. Huge black Ford shining. Alan.

Relief made Colby's knees weak for a moment. He grabbed the top rail of the corral fence, just standing there, watching Alan drive back into his life.

Those blue-sky eyes stared at him, the shock of blond hair sticking out from under the cap and scarred jaw familiar as breathing. When Alan pulled into the turnaround next to the barn and killed the engine, Colby walked over to the driver's side door, needing to see Alan up close. To touch.

"Tell me it's cool to come home, man. I cain't drive no more, and I need you like breathing."

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THE MOON PRIESTESS by Laura Tolomei

THE MOON PRIESTESS by Laura Tolomei

Want to know all about Atlantis’s last days? Let the Moon Priestess mesmerize you with her enchanted tale of love and betrayal.

Her nightmares warn of impending doom on her home, Atlantis, but how to ensure her people’s survival?

And why has her lover fallen for a mysterious stranger, bewitched and intrigued to the point he isn’t listening to her anymore, to her who is the only Moon Priestess?

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~Excerpt~

“Wow.” Shaking the last drops off his monster, Jaydon let it fall on Vyler’s crotch. “That was fucking fantastic.” And from the thud it made, it was still hard.

“You make it so.” Stretching out his arms, Vyler pulled Jaydon down on him. “And I can’t get enough.”

“I can see that.” Jaydon settled on Vyler’s chest. “Particularly since you had sex with her before coming to me.”

“How could you tell?”

“Your cock tasted of her.” As if to emphasize the words, he licked his lips. “And I have to admit she doesn’t taste bad at all.”

“Still thinking we can screw her together?” It was one of Jaydon’s ideas, though Vyler was not sure why he would suggest such a thing.

“Absolutely.”

“How do you suppose to convince her?” Ironic, his lips curved in a snarl. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Imagine how well she’d take you asking her about having sex—”

“Whoever said I’d ask?” At the huskiness of his voice and the gray eyes’ malicious gleam, Vyler’s cock twitched. “I want to take her, period.”

“But she’s the Moon Priestess.” Worried now, Vyler tried sitting up.

“She’s a woman first.” But Jaydon’s weight prevented any movement. “And like with any woman, you just have to find the right way to convince her that what you’re offering is exactly what she wants.”

“Aren’t you overrating yourself?” Skeptical, he took Jaydon’s face between his palms. “She’s no ordinary woman—”

“And I’m no ordinary man.” Self-assured, Jaydon smirked. “Or need I remind you that, before me, you didn’t consider men as sexual preys?”

“But—”

“There are no buts.” The kiss cut off Vyler’s objections, along with his breath. “Only things to do.” The second time their mouths met, Jaydon’s tongue parted Vyler’s lips for a slow sweep that perked up his shaft’s interest. “And it really wouldn’t be hard.” The tongue traced Vyler’s jaw upward, landing inside his ear. “Just bring her to me, and I’ll show you how easily she’ll beg for the both of us.”

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THE PIRATE'S GAMBLE by Eden Winters

THE PIRATE'S GAMBLE by Eden Winters

One man, two lives. In modern day Jamaica, Ian Lewis enjoys a well-earned reputation as a shining star of the archaeology world. However, in the eighteenth century, he's notorious for other reasons: being the captain of a rag-tag crew aboard the pirate ship The Naughty Maid. With the help of a mysterious talisman and his knowledge of ancient treasures, he travels back in time to save priceless artifacts otherwise doomed to be lost forever.

His greatest treasure, however, wants to stay lost ... or rather, deeply in the closet. Tired of hiding the true nature of the relationship he shares with fellow archaeologist David Kane, Ian employs his pirate cunning in a gamble that just may cost him everything -- including his life.

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

“I’m Ian Lewis,” he had said innocently enough, extending a dirt-smeared hand.

“David Kane,” David replied, barely managing to keep his voice steady.

Those twin dimples appeared again as the man smiled, showing even, white teeth. “I’ve heard so much about you, Doctor Kane; I’m honored to finally meet you.”

David had heard about Ian, too, via rumors floating around the site, about how the handsome young archeologist had never talked about or been seen with a woman. Well, that certainly didn’t prove anything. David made it a point to be seen with lots of women, though they were merely acquaintances, and never any men who could be mistaken for anything but colleagues. But he had a discreet network of friends who wanted nothing more than an occasional tumble between the sheets. They weren’t openly gay or looking for long-term, either. It was an arrangement that worked well for all.

That night when he’d left the site he sought out one of those friends who, incidentally, had auburn hair and spoke English with an American accent.

The next day, working side by side with the very distracting Doctor Lewis, he reminded himself that getting involved could ruin his untarnished career. Plus, he didn’t know if the rumors of the man’s sexuality were true, so he kept his distance, feeling it safer that way.

On the third day Ian had cornered him. “Look, Doctor Kane, if you’ve got something to say to me then come out and say it to my face!” No dimples were showing now, only righteous anger and blazing green eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he answered defensively.

Ian snorted. “You won’t come within three feet of me, and whenever I hand you something, you won’t even touch me. Is it because I’m gay?”

“You ... you’re gay?” David stammered, secretly reveling in that knowledge, though he knew he could never act on it.

Those grass green eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You mean you didn’t know?” Ian asked, clearly surprised. “I thought everyone did. I certainly never tried to hide it. So, that isn’t why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“No!” David lied, unwilling to out himself. “I’m sorry if you feel I have been. It’s unintentional, I can assure you.”

“And you’re not a homophobe?”

“Good heavens, no! Some of my best friends are gay,” David hastened to assure Ian, even if, under pain of death, he’d never reveal his relationship with those friends.

Those intriguing dimples suddenly reappeared as the redhead smiled brightly and asked, “Want to have dinner with me, then?”

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HARD AS STONE by Sara Brookes

HARD AS STONE by Sara Brookes

Brady thrives on saving patients in his busy emergency room, but when things don't go according to plan, nothing prepares him for a chance encounter. There's something familiar, and mysterious, about the downright sexy-as-hell stranger he encounters on a busy Chicago street.

In Garrett's world there are no coincidences. He's been standing as the doctor's secret guardian for years. Driven by a burning need Brady unknowingly awakened more than a decade ago, Garrett finally breaks his silence. He steps in to show Brady there's more to life than rescuing those in need.

Roused by their desperate passion for one another, their desire reaches an explosive breaking point. Brady realizes one night isn't enough, but Garrett is bound by rules he can't change. Now Brady's healing touch may save more than just a life - it may just save Garrett's soul.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: HARD AS STONE

Copyright © SARA BROOKES, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



“Get me O positive STAT. She’s bleeding out.”

Brady’s hand pulsed around the small heart he cradled. He’d already tried the paddles twice, but the hole through the patient’s heart wouldn’t allow the much needed blood to remain in the lower chamber. The victim had to be stable enough in order to repair the hole.

At this point, it would take a miracle.

Unfortunately, Brady was certain he’d already used up his allotment of miracles. He’d been a doctor long enough to know how this was going to end—even as the patient had been wheeled into his emergency room.

Gunshot wounds and five-year-old little girls didn’t mix.

“Doctor?”

His gaze met the eyes of the trauma nurse who stood on the opposite side of the gurney. He recognized the despair in her expression and had seen it more times than he cared to count. She knew the same truth he did.

But tell that to the little girl who’d been brought in five minutes ago.

The very same one who had a tattered pink elephant next to her pudgy hand even as she lay with her chest cracked open.

Brady was used to this kind of disturbing image, and because of that, he’d stopped having nightmares. Most would assume he didn’t care. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

Lately, he’d cared far more than he was supposed to and he suspected it would be his ultimate downfall if the pattern continued.

It didn’t help matters that the girl’s eyes had been open when she’d first been brought in. Clear and bright, the crystal green color had looked alive, and full of energy despite her condition. This little girl had more courage than he could even hope to possess and he was going to do his damnedest to save her life.

The fighters always deserved a second chance.

Brady had always been stone—cold and smooth under pressure. The more intense the situation, the better he worked.

Some days were better than others.

Some, harder.

Tragedy had become a daily part of his life, and this very moment seemed to test the rock-solid exterior he was known for. Despite the fact he wanted to continue, he recognized the possibility was slim. He knew better than to torture himself—and the child—anymore than he already had.

He’d already lost her long before she’d been wheeled into the room.

With a weary sigh, he reached over to flip off the offensive beep that indicated a flatline. Even though he knew it was futile, he continued to massage the tiny organ in his palm.

The head nurse burst back through the door with her hands full of bags of red fluid. Too little, too late.

Brady knew the cadence of life as it rose and fell. He’d fought his way through the peaks and valleys, and yet there was always a constant that couldn’t be avoided—death.

Despite all Brady’s effort, that last stage of life stole this little girl. It wasn’t fair as her light had just begun to glow. The nurses across from him accepted it the moment he pulled his hand from the child’s chest.

“Call it,“ the nurse stated quietly as she dumped the bags of blood on the counter beside her.

He stripped off his gloves and frowned at the large clock on the wall. The very one that taunted him each time he had to say the few words that would devastate a family. “TOD, six thirty-two.”

The weight of the girl’s death added to the moment and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. The large room closed in around him and his heart raced. He threw open the swinging doors, clenched his jaw and pushed past two candy stripers gossiping in the hall.

The thin gauze over his scrubs felt heavy and thick, and he ripped it away. He chucked the blood-soaked fabric into the nearest bio-hazard bin, stepping through the doors of the waiting area. The everyday hustle and bustle of the waiting room slammed into him.

His vision started to go gray and his feet tripped over one another as he tried to move around an approaching nurse. He was dimly aware of the sound of a few people calling his name, concern heavy in all the voices, but he had to get out of there.

As he burst through the hospital entrance, the cold December air hit him in the face. The shock of it brought reality crashing around him.

He’d lost another patient.

Another in a long string of deaths he hadn’t been able to stop. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been trained in how to deal with this and he always knew how to funnel away the emotion in order to do his job.

So why the hell am I reacting this way?

His feet pounded against the pavement as he blindly wove his way through the bustling streets. He blocked the sounds around him, hearing only the rush of his heartbeat. Driven by memory rather than sight, he ran the few blocks between the sterile hospital and the building that always felt like home.

Tall columns of intricate stonework soared high overhead, ending abruptly where the flying buttresses took over. Their carving was just as ornate and detailed as the rest of the masonry around the soaring building. The idea of the graceful lines and sweeping curves went against the scientific formalities he’d spent years learning in medical school.

Why he came here time and time again remained a mystery.

He stared at everything and nothing while his heart pounded. With each beat, a fissure formed. A crack that couldn’t be sealed and even seemed to expand as the seconds ticked by. The world around him went gray again, and he finally recognized the signs of what was happening.

Racing heart.

Shallow breaths.

Clammy palms.

He was in the throes of his first panic attack.

Things like this didn’t happen to him. He was the calm, cool and collected one. The trauma doctor who kept everyone else from falling apart. That resolve propelled him quickly to the top, earning him head of the entire emergency room in just a few short years. The stalwart professional who brushed his personal feelings aside each time he walked through the curtains separating the patients.

His hands clutched the metal streetlight in front of him and he lowered his face so his forehead pressed against the back of his hands.

Breathe in.

Out.

He kept up the slow, measured breaths in order to steady frayed nerves. Why did he feel as if he was falling apart? He was a doctor, for Christ’s sake. Surely he could talk himself through this. If he kept things clinical, sterile and didn’t think about the utter fear and desperation he’d seen in that little girl’s eyes, he’d be all right.

The girl had just barely begun her life and he’d gotten a sense—in just a few minutes with her—the she’d seen more than one child should ever experience.

The knowledge caused those small fissures in his heart to fracture, split apart and come undone.

Brady wasn’t having a panic attack—his heart had broken. He’d spent so many years training to keep distance from his patients, and it all came at him in a rush.

Every cut.

Every broken bone.

Every moment he’d called time of death rushed into his soul.

Sorrow and anger swelled to burn through that icy exterior he’d worked so hard to erect. His head pounded from the sudden release of emotion and he gave himself over to it.



Garrett studied the distraught man using the streetlight to steady himself. Even as he watched from the warm comfort of the coffeehouse, the man’s pain was tangible. Garrett’s chest tightened with the knowledge that something had unsettled Brady this much.

He loathed seeing him this way as much as he hated knowing he couldn’t help. Given the wrinkled appearance of his scrubs and the way they were dotted with drops of blood, Garrett knew it had finally happened.

The normally unflappable Dr. Brady McConnell had taken a patient’s death to heart. His habit of working too hard and refusing to take enough time off had finally caught up with him. Not to mention, he never, ever did anything for himself. As most good doctors did, he put his patient’s needs before his own.

Nothing had ever visibly shaken Brady to his core—until now.

At least he was around for this moment.

Garrett couldn’t stand the sight of Brady suffering. He knew he had the power to take away Brady’s pain. Since Brady had started medical school, Garrett had always been at the doctor’s side. However, he hadn’t made himself known before this moment because he’d always stood as a silent guardian.

He pushed through the coffeehouse doors and approached the man he’d always watched from afar.

“Beautiful architecture, isn’t it?” Brady’s head snapped up and Garrett saw the pain behind the elegant blue eyes. The harried and exhausted appearance of Brady’s face worried Garrett further.

“What?“

Garrett offered a friendly smile to lessen some of Brady’s instant skepticism. He gestured to the thirty-two story building across the street with the paper cup in his hand. “I saw you staring at the building earlier when I ducked into the coffee shop to grab a latte. Are you all right?”

“Yes.“ Brady nodded, a lock of his dark hair falling over his brow.

Garrett’s fingers tightened against the cup as they itched to reach out and brush that hair out of the way. Maybe this would be harder than he thought. He’d had years to cultivate his feelings.

To Brady, he was a complete stranger.

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RE-SCUE by Laura Tolomei

RE-SCUE by Laura Tolomei

However you lived your past, today you’re the key to changing your future.

Only one rule: never fall in love.

But the sex and blood is just too good to pass up. So what to do? Blood and sex are the only fair game he, the hunter, allows me, his prey, to have in our passionate chase through time and space. And for his sake, I’ve had more lives than I care to count. From one life to the next, I played his savage game, hungering for him in a way no amount of blood or sex could ever satisfy me. But not anymore!

So how to beat him at his own game and get away with it?

Author Laura Tolomei crafts four stories that trace a passionate and tumultuous relationship through time and gender. Don’t miss this exciting prequel to Tasting Leon’s Mark, now available!

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~Excerpt~

Damn! She’s really beautiful. Staring at Myla’s gleaming lean yet curvy body, Aural’s mind went blank, maybe a collateral effect from the panther’s intoxicating sexual turn-on, if not the result of the drug she had swallowed in one gulp, or of the foggy, pungent air suffocating her with every breath. Whatever the cause, she was falling deeper into Myla’s seductive game, which naturally had nothing to do with her. She’s in love with him! The aware­ness hit her apparently from nowhere. But she doesn’t have the guts…or the stupidity to tell him. And she could not help feeling sorry for her.

Playing by themselves, Myla kneeled to wrap her hands around Rhodri’s firm cock and harden it, increasing its size with each expert slide of the soft skin, before bending and swallowing it whole, her capacious mouth surprisingly big enough to cover it whole. At one point it reappeared again, and Aural seemed hypnotized by the tongue curling around the thick, long stem rising proudly on its own, lapping and licking furiously the rounded edges, then curving to envelop the entire bulging head and drawing it inside for a loud suck. Right after, she slipped down to the balls and began anew with another swallow.

Myla’s head bobbed on top of the erection, tongue flicking briefly, focused mainly on gulping the huge organ down her throat and almost gagging on it a few times. The harder she pushed, the more she tried to get it all in, or at least as much as the considerable length allowed. Following the rhyth­mical slide Rhodri was bound to find irresistible, he held her head and increased the tempo, forcing her to take more in than she probably expected, judging from the choking gurgles that escaped her lips. But he obviously wanted more, for taking her by the shoulders, he pushed her down on the worn carpet and sat on her.

Aural was unsure whether to stay or leave. One thing seemed very clear—the two had played before, evidently had been for a long time considering the ease with which their bodies moved, attracting one another at an animal level. It was the most exciting thing she had ever seen, a part of her envious knowing she could never compete with the black panther, not in beauty, certainly not in skill. But if last night’s sex seemed mere child’s play, something that could not have possibly satisfied, anoth­er part of her held stubbornly to the idea he was putting up the show for her benefit alone. And this conviction kept her rooted to the ground, afraid to move or even breathe lest he did not slam his incredibly big erection into Myla, her mouth-watering tight ass preferably, hurting her, just to increase Aural’s pleasure, the same she was already seeking as her hand slipped between her legs to rub the drenched cloth covering the throbbing swell begging for release.

In that same moment, raising his head, he seemed to remember she existed. Their eyes locked and Aural froze on the spot. With a malicious gleam in the blue eyes, he flipped Myla on her stomach and ran his hand on her back, lingering on the ass, slipping first one finger, then two, three into the narrow hole pushing up to receive whatever share he saw fit. And he took advantage of the offer, licking his fingers and dipping three at a time in the narrow opening while holding Aural’s gaze trapped as if he knew he was enflaming her craving, too. But the ass fuck was not in his plans, not the immediate ones anyway, because after sending a malicious flash in Aural’s direction, he spread Myla’s legs apart and shoved his stone-like cock into the silky trap. And as the witch raised her hips to accommodate him better, Aural also noticed her hands slip­ping under her stomach to stroke what would have been scorching for the panther, too, and would very probably burst at any moment from the hunter’s upbeat pumping, ramming with increasingly powerful thrusts that must have penetrated to her throat since he literally disappeared inside, all the way to the hilt.

Fascinated and surprised at her reaction, Aural stared, unable to take her gaze off, never having seen two people screwing before, wanting to participate, were she not afraid they would push her away if she dared to move a muscle. So she did not, Rhodri probably better off with Myla anyway since she did not seem to spark his bloody instinct, rather roused him to pleasure, blending appar­ently without efforts in his erotic magic.

Evidently, there was something wrong with her—Aural—that made the hunter go crazy for her blood. With Myla, instead, he could be his normal self and enjoy straight sex—no pain, no cuts, nothing harmful to stand in the way of his satisfaction, obviously not a problem when it came to other woman.

Myla’s body tensed all together, then relaxed. If she had climaxed, Aural had no means of knowing, but Rhodri evidently thought so, for he pulled out of the sticky pussy he had been pounding and flipped her around. “What do you say we let her play, too?”


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LEVELS OF HUNGER by B. A. Tortuga

LEVELS OF HUNGER by BA Tortuga

When the sun goes down, the things that go bump in the night come out to play.

This is when Adriano searches out his vampire lover Lars for their wicked play. A little bondage, a little blood-letting, Adriano and Lars feed their hungers like no others can.

Will one night be enough to sate them?


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~Excerpt~

The sun had been down for a good while, the pink of the sky gone a still, heavy velvet, when Adriano went looking, bare feet making barely a sound on the wood plank floor. The sound of the ocean came to him through the French doors, soothing him like a lover’s touch, calming him just enough to give him patience when he found Lars exactly where he thought he might. In the tiny library, reading some dusty tome.

Sighing, he bent, fingers trailing down Lars' cheek to tilt the sharp-jawed face up for a kiss, breaking the connection between man and words. Those eyes, as blue as the Mediterranean at noon, blinked at him, dark eyelashes tipped with the slightest hint of gold. "Adriano."

"Good evening, love. I have waited too long for you to surface this evening, hmm?" He had to smile, the momentary confusion on Lars' face too amusing.

"Ancient Hebrew. Quite fascinating really, when compared to middle English." The dull gold of his hair echoed the pages with their age.

Stunning, his Lars. Truly stunning. Adriano watched his tanned hand, square thumb and long fingers, as it closed around Lars' lean, long throat, admiring the contrast before bending for another kiss. He opened Lars' mouth with his, tongue running along the lower lip, soft and wet.

"I prefer other entertainments. Indulge me?"

"In all things." Slowly that focus turned to him, heavy and intense, heady.

"Excellent." He held out a hand, backing off to allow Lars to rise and follow him, the dust from the books making the air seem otherworldly, making his nose itch. Not in the library. Never there. That place, if nowhere else upon the Earth, was Lars' sanctuary, and Adriano would never violate that trust. They moved through the house, Lars' hand sitting firmly in his. Trusting. Understanding his need.

They wandered more than walked up the winding stairs, the air seeming heavier as they moved deep inside their home, the need thick between them. At the top of the landing he turned left, not right toward their bedroom. What he longed for could not be found in their soft and luxurious bed. Not tonight.

Still Lars followed, at his heels until they stopped in the darkened room at the end of the hall, and Adriano turned for another light touch of lips, to breathe in the sweetness of Lars' very breath.

"Strip, lovely."


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PINYON by B.A. Tortuga

PINYON by BA Tortuga

When Stirling finds a lost wolf out in the woods of Southern Colorado, the last thing he expects to discover is old pack outcast Tanner.

Tanner was the werewolf who never learned to shift, but it looks like he’s figured things out. Except that news reporters are all over the area, looking for a story in Tanner’s old hometown, and Stirling has a wolf pack to protect.

Can he juggle his duties with his dawning need for Tanner?

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~Excerpt~

The woods were too damned quiet. Normally Stirling would hear magpies and jays, chipmunks and squirrels. Today there was hardly a rustle of leaves, which meant someone was in the forest who didn’t really belong.

Lots of folks used the national forest land all the time for recreation or hunting or whatever. The animals got used to that and went about their business. The silence told Stirling that someone was either in trouble, or was doing something they really weren’t supposed to be doing. He checked his radio to make sure it was off, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence. Then he scented the wind, letting his second, and stronger, set of senses take over.

The scent that hit his nose was odd, familiar and not for the half-second he actually smelled it. He frowned. Weird.

Stirling headed west, following the scent, hand on his weapon.

He thought he heard a soft growl as he headed near a copse of pines, but the sound disappeared as he stopped. Still, he stopped and tilted his head, letting his good right ear do the hearing. His left had been perforated once, thanks to a bad fall while he was rock climbing. It had never been the same.

The growl sounded again, the noise heading to his left.

Stirling moved slowly, choosing his steps carefully. He didn’t want to break a stick or send a rock rolling.

He sniffed again, this time the wind brought him a definite scent. A wolf. A male.

Raising a brow, Stirling moved into the shadow of a big pine. The wolf was coming his way, and the wind wouldn’t betray Stirling’s presence, so he just settled in to wait.

The skinny creature came out into the sun, nostrils flaring, fur matted and rough.

Jesus. Stirling could count every rib, could see every frickin’ bone. Where the hell had this guy come from? They were having a good year for water and small game.

The wolf lifted his face toward the sun, chest heaving like bellows.

There was something there, something about the way the animal smelled, something about those weird, too-golden eyes. They were familiar. All of it was familiar, somehow, but this wasn’t one of the current pack. Stirling knew all of them, as far ranging as they were.

It surprised the hell out of him when the wolf just settled, sat right there in the middle of the clearing. That was crazy. Weak, starving, the fool thing needed to find cover. Stirling pulled a gun, but not his service revolver. He got his tranq out instead.

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CEREUS: BUILDING by BA Tortuga

CEREUS: BUILDING with stories by BA Tortuga, Julia Talbot and Sean Michael

What happens when a besieged and rather small dragon comes to a vampire and says, "I need your help." Or when that vampire comes to a werewolf and says, "I have a job for you." The vampire goes and builds a resort for things that go bump in the night, of course. Riding the wave of Julia Talbot's Bloodrose series, the multi-author Cereus: Building features paranormal romance from three of Torquere Press' most-loved authors. The stories move from vampire Jonny's city club to a new luxury getaway in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, where pleasure and pain are the name of the game.

Julia Talbot's It's Elemental features construction contractor Chayton, a werewolf who thinks demon decorator Kenny is a little fussy, and a lot hot. They argue about everything from feng shui to sex. Will they be able to resolve their differences?

The Third Course, by BA Tortuga, tells the story of Marco and Stephan, werecats, brothers, and chefs who meet their match in head-bartender Faelan, who just happens to be a growly, sexy Top.

Finally, Sean Michael's Smoke and Gold follows the head dominant of the club, Zee, who's dealing with trying to get his playrooms just so, and trying to figure out maddening dragon Daniel at the same time. Who can resist loving a dragon?

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Sample
"I need your help, friend." Daniel Underhill looked at Jonny, eyes glowing gold through webcam, the glow sort of pixillating a bit, making things a bit odd, even for Daniel.

Really, how much more odd did it get than being a dragon? Daniel was certainly the only one Jonny had ever met.

"Well, you know you need only ask." Jonny settled more comfortably in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. He sat behind his desk at the club Bloodrose, marveling at things like Skype, which certainly hadn’t existed when he’d become a vampire all those centuries ago.

Daniel cleared his throat, bringing Jonny’s attention back to the screen.

"You know that I have...particular issues, yes?"

It took Jonny a moment to suss out what the man might mean, but he hit upon it. Daniel, although quite astonishing in his true form, was reportedly quite...undersized. Petite. Wee. Possibly even tiny, for a dragon. It caused problems on occasion. "Indeed."

"Well, I've been here a long time, eons, and no one has bothered me, but my kind doesn't like population and our territories are getting smaller every decade."

"Isn't that the way it is for everyone?" The wolves were all bitching about it as well, about how there was nowhere to run, and how while they loved the club, it was too urban for them.

"Yes, but... I can't protect my home, not from my own kind."

"I take it you have an idea." Dragons were all about ideas. Not so much practicalities, though they were exceptional at making money. Daniel had a particular talent for finding magical objects and selling them.

"Of course I do." Daniel's smile was suddenly young and happy. "You're going to build a kinky little getaway here rather like your club, and let me have a huge, amazing cabin on the edge of the resort. You'll make money. I'll make money. Everyone will avoid the mountain because there will be human activity. It's perfect."

Jonny pondered that. "You're in the Cascades, yeah?"

Daniel nodded. "Six hundred acres ready to build on. You front the money for the development and guarantee me my house, and you do as you will."

"Hmm. I would like to keep a good bit as a preserve. We can stock with game if there's not enough..." Wouldn't the 'weres love a safe place to hunt?

"It's virgin land. Perfect." Daniel smiled. "Safe, except from my kind."

And having a busy presence would stop that quickly, wouldn't it? Dragons were silly creatures.

"I like it. We could go very green, very earth friendly. Go underground for some of the vampire quarters as long as it wasn't near your den." Daniel could be touchy about that den of his.

Daniel nodded. "My den is a natural cave. If you look, you'll find others. Humans tend to avoid the area." He got a wicked little smile. "Crossing my borders uninvited causes its own issues."

"Don't I know it?" Jonny had never been to Daniel's land, but there had been that poor courier once... The dangers of dealing in magical objects. Even small dragons had big flames.

Daniel shrugged, licked his lips. "Occupational hazard."

"Indeed. I can send some people to do an initial survey, talk to selected backers."

"Just let me know to expect them." Long, golden hair was shoved back, Daniel settling. "So, now that the business part is done, let me tell you about this amazing spell book I had sent from Romania. I either made a stick into a fire snake or a burning stick into a dead snake. The accent's tough to pull off."

"You're not Romanian." Neither was Jonny, thank goodness. A vamp from Romania was trite, at best.

"No, but I'm not Mexican either, and I managed to unearth that Mayan demi-god for you once, didn't I?"


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THE TALE OF TOMMY TRAPPER by Belea T. Keeney

THE TALE OF TOMMY TRAPPER

by Belea T. Keeney

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BLURB:

Trapper Tommy works the woods of Florida, trapping all kinds of wildlife for his customers who don't want raccoons, possums, squirrels, or skunks near them. But after finding some mangled carcasses, Tommy comes to realize there's something much bigger and much scarier out there than anything he's ever faced before.

On the night of a full moon, Trapper Tommy gets trapped himself, and what he finds will change his life forever.

Read an excerpt or buy your copy today!

 

EXCERPT:

“That gator is tore up!” Rudy Swetzek covered his mouth with a beefy hand, his eyes wide. Flies buzzed around the alligator’s corpse, and the leaves and ground beneath the reptile were soaked with blood, baking in the Florida afternoon sun. He lay on his back, his belly still wet, oozing rank entrails. Long, black claws dangled over folded legs, front and back. Gator claws, nothin’ to mess with. One swipe from those and you either lose an arm or get a nasty infection that’ll drop you in your tracks. A warm breeze blew over us and the smell was like to gag a maggot -- bloody and full of death.

Most of the gator’s tail was gone, wrenched -- not cut -- off his rear, the hide torn, the muscle ripped away. Helluva thing.

Trapper Tommy is my name, wrangling wildlife is my game, least that’s what my answering machine says, cute-like. Hogs, possums, armadillos, raccoons, snakes, deer once in a while, but mostly I earn my living from gators. I yank ‘em out of freshwater ponds when they get too big or too friendly and start eating the neighborhood cats and dogs. Kids sometimes, too.

This gator, though, was near useless to me. Dead too long to pull the meat, his belly hide too shredded to skin and sell to the leather goods dealer down to Arcadia. A bust. And he coulda been good money -- maybe four hundert dollars worth of tail meat and hide -- a twelve-footer, a bull gator, big and fat from his easy life in the swamps north of Tampa.

I bent down to get a closer look. The stink made my eyes water so I pulled my bandana over my nose. I got a soft puff of fabric softener then was overpowered by the gator’s smell. Didn’t matter. I had work to do.

Rudy bent over at the waist, then leaned back, his mouth twisted. “What the hell kill’t this thing?”

“I dunno, but I aim to find out.” The gator’s belly was open from jaw to tail. I counted a dozen trails of torn skin, then stopped counting.

“Lookit here.” I bent closer, my knees creaking. “These ain’t no knife marks, these was claws.” I fingered open one slice. The gator’s fat layer was yellow, then there was the red band of thick muscle. “See here. Long claws, they went all the way into his guts.”

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BETWEEN STATES by J. M. Snyder

BETWEEN STATES by J.M. Snyder

The year is 1863.

Caleb Chilson is a private in the Confederate Army, currently camped in the Virginian woods.

Most of his time is spent on picket duty, on the lookout for a Yankee attack. But when the moon is full, he manages to slip away from the encampment and into the woods to become something a little less than human ...

Imagine his surprise when he meets another werecat like himself. The only difference? Brance Brenneman wears a Yankee uniform.


Contains the stories:
•Book 1: Under a Confederate Moon
•Book 2: Beneath a Yankee Sky
•Book 3: A More Perfect Union

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EXCERPT FROM "Beneath a Yankee Sky"
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Brance chased after Caleb, their feline bodies mere shadows racing among many in the night. His teeth were bared and Caleb’s scent filled his nostrils, enflamed his instincts. He wanted to mate and to eat, in that order. But his lover liked to run -- he liked to be caught, and kept just out of reach as they tore through the underbrush, scaring up mice and birds and any number of small creatures in their wake.

Ahead, the trees opened into a small thicket. Too late, Brance realized he was running headlong into an ambush; he skidded to a stop in the thick grass and turned as a bobcat’s battle cry filled the clearing. Before he could speak, Caleb tackled him, a ball of fur and strong hind legs. They rolled back into the grass, Brance’s jaws snapping for purchase, Caleb’s wet nose nuzzling into his ballocks as his tail tickled under Brance’s nose. The woods were alive with Caleb’s scent, a wild, rangy smell that Brance wanted to pin down beneath him and rub against until his senses exploded in orgasm. ::Fuck me,:: Caleb demanded, tongue licking below Brance’s tail to entice his penis to extend. ::What are we waiting for here? If you’re not going to --::

Brance’s growl cut him off. ::Can’t you ever be still?::

Chastised, Caleb rolled away from Brance. He sat on his haunches, eyes closed, as if he hadn’t just been cavorting like a kitten a moment ago. With feline dignity, he licked one forepaw, smoothed it back over his ear, repeated the gesture. ::Fine.::

Lying on his side, Brance watched his lover, wary. The grooming was a ploy, nothing more. He watched the large paw run back over the ear, turning it inside out until Caleb flicked it right again. Caleb kept his eyes closed, his whole body still except for the paw and the tip of his tail, which tamped down the grass. With an almost human-like sigh, Brance drew in a deep breath and blew it out through his nose. The last thing he wanted to admit was that it seemed too quiet now, with Caleb pretending to ignore him. His own tail slapped the grass in a quick, angry motion.

A ragged purring erupted from Caleb. He lowered his body down to the ground, stretched out his paws, and extended his claws to rake through the soft fur on Brance’s underbelly. When Brance didn’t move, Caleb dared to inch closer, nose wrinkling as he sniffed his way along his lover’s body. The second that wet nose touched his fur, Brance raised his hind leg and set his paw against Caleb’s forehead to hold him back.

::Please,:: Caleb said. He came closer still, widening the space between Brance’s legs, nose drawn once again to the other cat’s genitals. His rough tongue licked out to taste Brance’s tender ballocks. ::Just let me ...::

Brance’s growl raised his own hackles. ::Have I no say in the matter?::

Caleb huffed, his nose filled with Brance’s fur as he routed out the erect pink penis below Brance’s anus. When Caleb’s tongue licked it, an intense pleasure shot through Brance and he kneaded the ground with his forepaws, his growl dissipating into a loud purr. Amused, Caleb countered, ::I think this says it all.::

In one fluid motion, Brance extracted himself from Caleb’s ministrations and leapt to his feet. Before the other bobcat could react, he pounced -- his teeth sank into the thick fur at Caleb’s neck, holding him in place. A rowdy mrraow filled the night. Beneath him, Caleb arched his back, raising his rear haunches into the air to present himself. His claws tore up the grass in his need; as Brance’s underbelly rubbed over his backside, Caleb’s tongue darted out, lapping up the air. One word passed between them, over and over again, a litany of affirmation, acceptance, love. ::Please,:: Caleb begged as Brance’s body covered his. ::Please,:: as Brance’s penis rimmed Caleb’s flaring hole. ::Please, please, please.::

Then Brance entered him, and their mingled cries of lust drowned out all other sound.

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DREAMING SPARTA by Richard Fazio

DREAMING SPARTA by Richard Fazio 

In ancient Greece, Demetrios trains to become a Spartan soldier but grows depressed over the loss of his mentor, Andreas. His desire for them to retain their monogamous relationship is overcome by Lysandra's devious attempts to have Andreas fulfill his duty as her betrothed.

In present day New York, Andrew's life is in shambles when his father threatens to evict him for being gay. When, Andrew stumbles into Demetrios' world through a dream portal, their encounters provide each with the incentive to confront their demons ... together.

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



When he rose from his nest, Andrew found himself in an alien but bucolic landscape. He took no more than a step or two when the uneven rustling of dry grass betrayed someone else’s presence. He turned in time to see a guy of his own age and height scurry behind a chiseled stone stele like a frightened rabbit. Andrew froze so as not to upset him further. He could make out the top of a head of curly black hair. Within seconds, the rest of the face appeared. His proximity enabled Andrew to perceive hazel-colored eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” Andrew blurted out. Upon the realization his words may be incomprehensible, he beckoned with his hands. Since Greek was the only other language with which he had any familiarity, he said, “Addio.” He chanced another step or two but didn’t dare to get any closer. Instead, he held out his right arm with his hand palm up. In his mind, it was a sign of universal acceptance.

The ‘rabbit’ emerged from his cover with an awestruck look on his face. Andrew knew the only chance to win his confidence was to be gracious. So he pulled back his extended hand, put it over his heart, and bowed slightly in a classic gesture of subordination.

As Andrew raised his eyes and emerged from his bow, the stranger edged closer like a curious child. Sunlight danced over this boy’s darkly toned body. His devastating beauty rendered Andrew speechless. Moreover, a physical similarity to his friend Demetri was uncanny. The stranger’s juvenile reaction described a youthfulness he did not actually possess. Subtly roughened facial features, a thick neck and a hirsute body directly contradicted that behavior. A tunic of white fabric like finely woven burlap wrapped around his taut torso; a delicate rope cinched it at the waist. That a well-developed body was concealed beneath it was obvious. Laced leather sandals revealed enough of his legs to indicate a predilection for climbing. Under his breath Andrew whispered, “I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

His brief reverie melted as soon as the stranger spoke.

“You don’t appear to be a Macedonian soldier. Have you been sent by the gods?”

“No, actually, I’m not from around here,” Andrew replied. But where in the hell was he? And how is it they could understand each other when they were obviously from different cultures? Quite possibly even diverse time periods!

“From where then?” queried the stranger.

“From Astoria. It’s a place in New York. So is this ...”

“Then, what are you doing at the Temple of Artemis Orthia?” he persisted.

At a loss to reply, Andrew thought for a moment. As he did, he took the opportunity to dwell on the stranger’s inquisitive eyes. It was near impossible to look away from them.

“I ... I came to ... inspect buildings. That’s it. I’m here to study the structural integrity of the temple’s foundation. You see I’m a student of ... of architecture.” Not very sure of the credibility of his explanation, Andrew felt it was still worth the attempt.

“You speak in an odd way but I believe you. If you were a god, I don’t think you would waste time with a mere mortal.”

“Oh, yes I would,” Andrew replied with a bit too much enthusiasm. He knew by the stranger’s speech and references this was another era of history. It was like a dream but one steeped in a sensuous and realistic environment. He decided circumstance necessitated a polite distraction at this point. “Maybe you would like to show a newcomer around the area,” Andrew ventured.

“Do you mean the place where I live and train to be a warrior? If so, I’d rather stay up here while it is daylight. There are some beautiful spots here in the hills I could show to you.” Subsequently, he followed a narrow path the long grasses tried to hide. Crawling along at first, he picked up his pace when he saw Andrew shadow him step for step.

His interest piqued, the explorer within Andrew emerged. “How come you’re here on your own? Don’t you have any friends you could be with?”

“Only Andreas, my inspirer. But he is otherwise involved this day and I have no one else. And you?”

“Oh, I always travel alone but I have many friends back home. Besides, I like to make new friends as often as possible,” said Andrew in an attempt to perk up his new buddy.

They sauntered along for only a short time before yet another panoramic view forced them to yield to its beauty. This one dropped even steeper than that of the inland valley to include the rugged Tainaro cape of the Maniot peninsula, the southernmost point of Greece.

“That is the port of Gytheion,” his guide offered with a nod towards the distant shoreline.

Indeed, Andrew discerned tiny fishing boats and inhaled a hint of sea air. The combination of an agreeable climate, a peaceful locale and exotic herbal scents intoxicated Andrew. He thought there should be some cultural or temporal shock but he felt just too good. “May we sit somewhere for a moment?” Andrew inquired.

“That is in my mind also. I love to meditate on the vastness of the ocean. Were it not a sacrilege to say so, I would tell you it makes me feel like a god myself.”

“You are ... uh.” Andrew faltered as he sat down and almost lost his balance. “I know exactly what you mean.” He wasn’t aware of anything wrong in the physical sense but felt bewitched. Then again, he reasoned to himself, maybe the altitude was to blame.

His new friend remained quiet. Then, to Andrew’s surprise, the silent stranger sat down next to him. He wondered if this were his normal behavior: stoic, but with unspoken warmth.

“By what name are you called? I am Demetrios of Pitana, soldier of Sparta.”

Speechless he had not thought to ask first what he knew to be a rule of common courtesy in any culture, Andrew was doubly shocked by a name similar to his closest friend. The very same one, in fact, to whom this Demetrios of Pitana bore such a great resemblance! Was there a connection? And ancient Greece of all places! He did not even fantasize about stuff like this. Before his mind could wander further he answered: “My name is Andrew.”

“Today I feel blessed by the gods in making your acquaintance,” Demetrios said with sincerity.

History books be damned, Andrew thought. If this were truly ancient Greece then it was one hell of a misrepresented culture. However warrior-like, it was obvious these people were not at all uncivilized. He could tell by Demetrios’ entire demeanor, by his longing glance, by his ... Andrew did not know what distracted him so but he began to think things he had never thought of before. Not with another man anyway. The response inside his pants told him so. Could it be he harbored this same inclination towards Demetri and had not acknowledged it? Or, at least, never wanted to?

In lieu of an involved response, Andrew simply said, “I suppose I am also blessed.”

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BACKING BRIAN by Cheryl Dragon

BACKING BRIAN - A Raider's Bodyguards Tale by Cheryl Dragon

Once a Texan, always a Texan and Brian Beaumont has come back home to open his high-end western wear shop. Not everyone is thrilled with the gay son of a Texas millionaire opening a clothing store. Lucky for Brian, his new brother-in-law sends protection from Raider's Bodyguard Service. If only Brian could resist the hunky muscled Texas native assigned to guard his body day and night.

Jones never wanted to go back to Texas. He left at eighteen for many reasons, but his career is more important than the demons of his past. Always a professional, he meets his match in the tempting Brian. The line between business and pleasure vanishes when their mutual love of sex, rope and power play takes over.

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Excerpt:

The Western wear shop designed like an old saloon wasn’t yet open, but the flurry of activity made Brian smile. His dream was coming true, and in a couple weeks, the shop would open. Brian’s cell rang, and he grabbed it off the hardwood counter.

“Hey, Mrs. Raider,” he answered teasingly. His sister, Penny, had pulled off the biggest wedding in Texas history and jetted off to Hawaii with her bodyguard hubby, Grayson Raider.

“Stop it,” she replied.

He could hear the smile. “How’s that sex on the beach? Make sure you use sunscreen. You burn.”

“Brian, it’s my honeymoon. I’m not doing that on the beach. You’re terrible. How’s the shop?” she asked.

“Coming together. You didn’t have to come up for air to check on me.” Brian was so happy for his sister. The couple glowed with passion, and Penny marrying a Yankee had sent tidal waves through the family. The fact that it didn’t bother Penny at all told Brian it was forever.

“We’ll be back in time for the grand opening, but we’re sending you an early present.” Her voice was soft.

Brian knew it was more than a gift. “Present?”

“Dad mentioned you might have some issues. Protestors and stuff.”

“Please. It’s leather, boots and jackets. Pure Texas with a bit more class. They’re only going to protest because I’m gay and a Beaumont. It’s nothing. Ignoring it is best.” Brian had heard it already, and nothing would stop him.

“But you are high profile because of Dad’s money. Isn’t that the excuse you used when I went to Italy?” she replied.

“Oh no, you don’t. No, Penny, I’m not a sweet girl who needs a bodyguard.” Brain knew being gay meant he might as well being wearing a dress to a lot of his family, but Penny didn’t think that way. Brian worked out and could defend himself, but the gay label came first. Still he loved everything Texas, riding, roping and leather.

“Big tough movie stars use bodyguards. Grayson went to a lot of trouble to pick the right team.”

“Team?” Brian leaned on one of the pillars in the store. The rope to wind around them was still in a box. He had so much to do. “I don’t need men underfoot to get in the way.”

“Think about your employees, Brian. All the workers and delivery people. It’s not just you that could be hurt or scared. The bodyguards will keep things under control.” Penny made it sound so sensible and easy.

“Is this what I did to you?” he asked.

“Pretty much. And you drooled over Grayson. I won’t do that to Jones. Just take the help. Family perks from your new brother-in-law.”

“Is this Jones a Raider?” Brian knew how attractive those men were. That was another type of distraction he didn’t need.

“No, Jones is an employee from the L.A. branch. He’s dealt with this stuff before—all that gay marriage back and forth. It’ll be fine.” Penny sounded confident.

“This is Texas, not California,” Brian reminded her.

“Will you relax? He’s a professional. And when Grayson and I get back in for the opening, he’ll review the situation and decide what’s best. Now, I’ve got to get changed for the luau. Promise me you’ll play nice with Jones and let him do his job.”

“When is he arriving?” Brian asked.

“Promise me,” Penny pushed back.

The front door opened, and Brian looked up. A tall man with shoulders that took over the doorway stole Brian’s focus. Black hair, dark eyes, and muscles for days. Jeans and a gray T-shirt were filled out to perfection, but the black boots were the hottest part. Those told Brian that this guy knew style. Brian’s gaydar tingled.

“Fine, I promise to play nice. Gotta go. Work to do. You need to get back to making me a niece to spoil and style.”

“Brian!” Penny replied.

“Aloha.” Brian disconnected and turned to the new guy. “Can I help you?”

“Brian Beaumont?” His deep voice made Brian pray this was Jones.

“Guilty.” Brian smiled. “You are?”

“Jones Preston from Raiders. You’re expecting me?” He held out a hand.

“Just got the news from my sister.” Brian took his hand, and the spark made his shake a little too long. He pulled back and wiped his palm before his turned into a giggling idiot. “I’m still putting the place together. Not much for you to do.”

“Protection is all the time. My team is scouting the area. Interviewing other owners and making sure what we’re dealing with. Seeing if anyone will be trouble.” Jones looked around. “Nice set up.”

“Thanks. But really, I picked a gay friendly area. I can’t imagine there will be an issue. It’s the conservatives. My Dad runs in those circles. So it could be an issue there. Texas can be weird about things like that. My Dad is big; so odds are they won’t hurt me or anyone. It’s just a big show.”

“Let me worry about that.” Jones walked closer. “For the next two weeks, you let me worry about your safety and you listen to me. I’ve got your back, and I’m not putting up with any arguments or games.”

Brian could think of dozens of naughty games to play with a man so tightly wound. Jones oozed power and control. “I appreciate my brother-in-law’s concern. I’ll let you do your thing. But I’m not a damsel in distress. I grew up in Texas. I know what I’m dealing with. Not sure L.A. guys can handle it.” Brian leaned in with his hands on the counter and tightened his muscles to show off.

A barely noticeable tug at the corner of Jones’ mouth gave Brian a thrill. The man wasn’t all gloom and business.

“I’m sure you can defend yourself. These situations can get heated and tense. Protestors can turn crazy. You need more than muscle for that. You need a neutral party to calm things down.” Jones glanced at Brian’s nice sculpted arms.

“I’m not looking for trouble. It’s not like I opened a gay bar or dating service. Penny and I always loved fashion. I like leather and the Texas look. Being gay owned doesn’t make this a gay business. It’s not like my leather jackets are done in rainbow.” Brian took a deep breath. Part of him believed he’d found his place in the world. He knew what he wanted, but still he felt so alone. Was the world against him?

“I understand. Once you’re open and people are here for the merchandise, things will probably calm down. It’s the grand opening and the prep time…this is when you’re most vulnerable. Others are forming opinions without information. Anything can happen.”

The urge to keep arguing with the sexy man kept Brian’s mouth going. “But nothing has happened. No threats or protests.”

He’d only been in the space for a couple days.

Jones nodded. “Fair enough. But you’re barely started by the looks of it. Grayson said the lease began a day or so ago. Troublemakers take time to get followers. The classy ones are putting pressure on your dad to do something to stop you. Move you to L.A. or New York. It might be quiet. Or it could escalate. You have deliveries coming. Strangers will be in and out. Very vulnerable. One could slip in and plant a bomb.”

“A bomb?” Brian shivered at the idea. “Come on. Get real.”

“I am. With my guys watching, no one will get in and cause trouble. All strangers will be watched and names taken. It lets people know we’re paying attention so if someone tries something, we know who was in the shop. Just asking for identification is a deterrent.” Jones was confident and serious.

Brian relaxed. “That’s where you come in. Protecting my employees is important to me. They shouldn’t be in danger because of my personal life.”

“So you’ll let me do my job?” Jones asked.

“Not sure I ever had a choice.”

“It’s your shop. I can’t protect you without your cooperation,” Jones admitted.

“Met my sister?” Brian asked.

Jones shrugged. “No, got my orders from Grayson by phone.”

“My sister is a force of nature. She gets her way. You report I’m resisting, and I’ll never hear the end of it. But I’ll cooperate.” Brian studied Jones, wanting to flirt and cooperate naked, but the all business signals shut down Brian’s boy cruising. Clearly, Jones was serious about his work. “So how do you think you’re going to handle all the Texas stuff? I promise, this isn’t L.A.”

Jones smiled wide. “No, it sure isn’t. But I’ll manage.” The soft Texas drawl rolled off Jones’ tongue.

Dazzled, Brian wanted more of Jones and that magic tongue.



“You’re from Texas?” Brian asked.

Jones smiled. Brian recovered quickly, but Jones had thrown him off balance. Jones seemed at ease.

“I lived here until I was eighteen. As soon as I could, I left for a safer place.” Jones didn’t talk about his sexuality much. At least not at work. “L.A. is much safer.”

“Dallas isn’t bad in the city. I escaped to New York for college, but this is home. I’ve accepted it; now, they’ll accept me.”

“Like it or not?” Jones admired Brian’s courage and conviction.

That and his piercing green eyes. Brian’s brown hair was short and would pass any manly inspection. The lean muscled form also met with Jones’ approval. Brian could protect himself, but Jones knew his interest in Brian’s body was not at all professional. He’d avoided involvement with a client thus far, but the day had arrived. Jones was attracted to a client. To deny it was pointless, but Jones had to push it away. His job was far more important than a fling.

“Texas is home. I’m not running. I like my Uncle Lubby’s little ranch. I could ride and rope as well as any kid growing up. I bet you’re good with a rope.” Brian flirted.

“I do okay.” Jones wanted to give in. Back in L.A., if they’d met in a bar, they’d be making out by now. Jones would take him home, and after a night of great sex, they’d be over. But Jones valued his job. No way would he ruin his reputation.

“So you went to L.A. and became a bodyguard?” Brian prompted.

It was normal for people to want to know something about the person they’d let into their life to protect them. This was less flirt and more sanity. “I started as a bartender and then found I preferred the bouncer role. I got hired by some minor celebrities who wanted security.”

“The boy toy in a gay bar,” Brian teased.

“It was a gay bar, but I was hired for muscle, nothing more. This celebrity liked the biker types. Anyway, it got me other work, and discretion goes a long way in this business. I ended up at Raider’s.” Jones looked Brian in the eye. “So I know something about Texas and about being gay. Trust me, I’ll keep you safe.”

Brian nodded. “Thanks.”

Jones wanted to get closer. To feel the heat from Brian. He’d been single a long time. Random sex never gave Jones what he wanted, but most relationships never got as deep as the information he’d just shared with Brian.

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