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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SOJOURN WITH A STRANGER by Keta Diablo

SOJOURN WITH A STRANGER by Keta Diablo

Penniless when she arrives in Norfolk, her mother and father drowned at sea, Raine Brinsley longs to return home to her grandfather in Maine. When Derek Stafford, owner of a large plantation, offers a solution to her dilemma, she's stunned, if not outraged. She'd prefer to fulfill the contract to have his child and forget about him and his self-serving scheme. If only she could dispel the passion he's awakened in her.

Derek Stafford's only wish is to father an heir to Stafford House, thus securing his future. He didn't count on the Scottish lass with green eyes interfering with his well-laid plan. After one night in her arms, guilt, not to mention the loss of his soul, becomes his penance. He'll do anything to win her back, anything to quench the hunger tormenting his soul.

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Excerpt:

Derek dropped into an overstuffed divan opposite Raine. He pulled the leather pouch and brown envelope from his vest pocket, and placed them on the oak table separating them. Alternately, she looked between the pouch and his face.

"I'm not certain how to begin." He wrung his clammy hands. Damn, this is more difficult than I imaged. "We had a discussion several evenings past in the garden?”

"I remember.”

"I explained my father’s desire to obtain a male heir and my inability to produce one thus far?”

Dark green eyes searched his. "Yes, clearly.”

"You're a beautiful woman with a significant amount of intellect and a variety of coveted traits and talents."

"Thank you, but you hardly know me."

"That's true." The words managed to slip out his dry throat. “However, what I've witnessed since your arrival exceeds my highest expectations."

"Expectations?"

"You're in a difficult situation.” He forced a smile. "I'm prepared to offer you a way out."

"A way out of what, Derek? I’m not understanding―"

"Hear me out, please." Rising from the chair, he paced before her. "I realize the arrangement will seem outrageous at first, even obtuse, but I've thought a great deal about it since our meeting in the garden. I took the liberty of consulting an expert."

"An expert? Whatever for?”

"Childbirth."

A nervous giggle left her lips. "I'm not following you. Perhaps you should come right out and tell me what arrangement you're alluding to."

The seconds ticked by on the mantle clock, sounding like a thousand crickets had breached the room. "Yes, I'm trying to get to the point of all this." He stopped pacing and held onto the back of his chair. "Here's the way of it. You need to earn enough money to return to your grandfather in Maine. I, on the other hand, need a son.”

Her brow furrowed.

“I'm offering you freedom in the long run. In exchange, I want to have a child with you, preferably, a male.” The words rushed forth. “However, if you’re delivered of a female, I’ll love and accept her just the same.”

An audible gasp fell from her lips. "Oh, but I can’t possibly accept a proposal of marriage from a virtual stranger. It would be most unfair to both―”

Good, God, she thinks I’m offering marriage? Marriage? “No, that is, you misunderstood my proposal. I’m not suggesting we marry.”

Her eyes widened.

Walking to the table with a tentative gait, he picked up the envelope. “More money than you could earn in a lifetime is in here. I'm offering half now and the other half when the contract has been met."

She looked at the envelope and then at him, her tone icy. “How much is in the envelope?"

"Five thousand dollars."

Another gasp.

"Five thousand now and five thousand the day the child is born." Tossing the envelope on the table for effect, he continued. "It's yours right now should you accept my offer." A rapid pulse took flight in a tiny blue vein in her neck.

"If you're not offering marriage, in what capacity will I live in the manor?"

"You'll be free to go home after the child is born. Until then, you'll have complete freedom to do whatever you choose."

Her eyes narrowed, and sparked.

"You said you wished to return to your grandfather one day. That day can be sooner than you think if you sign the contract my barrister drafted." He nodded toward the envelope. "It's also in there."

Her face paled. "Horace Masterson, the kindly gentleman who promised me safety until I returned to Maine?"

"Yes, the money guarantees your security, and your safety.” Walking around the chair, he settled into it and leaned forward. “At the very least, read the contract. I'm sure you'll agree the terms protect you.” Her lower lip quivered, and he wondered if she might cry. Christ, what would he do if she launched into a crying jag? He couldn't bear up under her tears.

"You seem quite well prepared.” Her gaze took him apart inch by inch. "I commend your valiant efforts to keep your father's threats at bay."

"I can’t find fault with your reaction at the onset, but surely you see the practicality on both sides?” After drawing in a lungful of air, he added, “You’ll be free to go about your life when it’s over in a manner envied by most women. I’ll acquire an heir to Stafford House, and my father will end his relentless pursuit.”

“Oh, please enlighten me." She pinned him with a lethal glare. "Should I decide to engage in your well-contrived scheme, how do you propose we bring the end result to fruition?"

"It's quite simple,” he said, aware the temperature in the room leaped to an unbearable degree. "You spend three nights in my bedchamber, the specific nights will be chosen by Madelina. She’s prepared―”

“Who is she?”

“A healer, a woman who dabbles in tonics, remedies. She’s already prepared several concoctions.” He dug for the instructions in the pocket of his vest. “You must follow her recommendations when it comes to diet and tinctures for several weeks. She’s highly skilled, claims certain remedies will enhance the possibility of producing a male child. I'll expect you to follow her recommendations if you accept my offer.”

She shook her head. "I must applaud your tenacity and the immense preparation you expended in carrying out your duplicitous plot."

“There is nothing duplicitous about this. I’ve told you everything.” She looked away from him, but not before he saw the sadness return to her eyes again, and something he didn’t recognize. Indecision? Hatred? An interminable amount of time passed before he dared speak again. “Think of it as a business arrangement."

She turned to him with a look that said she would love to sever him at the knees with a saber. "I’d like your decision in two days. You’ll find me in my study two nights from now. If you decline, you can remain at Stafford House until you’ve earned enough money to return to Maine. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes," she said with calm composure. "Why me? There must be countless women who’d agree to bear your child.”

"I thought I made that clear. You possess undeniable beauty, have obviously been well educated, and you have the physical attributes, height and stature, I hope are passed on to our child.” He shrugged. "It's that simple."

Flushed with anger, the green eyes darkened. "Will that be all?"

"Yes," he replied, finding it difficult to look at her. "Unless you have additional questions."

"I do not." She rose from the chair, her tone cold. "I believe I understand perfectly well.” Offering a false curtsy, she added, "If you'll excuse me, sir."

He nodded.

The moment her footsteps faded from the room, Derek unfurled himself from the chair and headed for the liquor cabinet, his only thought to down a double dram.

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