 Slight sounds and scents Forge wouldn’t normally notice in this situation assaulted him. He shifted his weight and sighed. No one else seemed to notice. It was annoying and distracting, and he made a mental note to discuss this with Blair. As soon as the elevator door opened, he felt a slight tingling along his spine. Checking the doors as he wandered the hall became unnecessary as the tingling increased. Blair’s office was, in fact, a group of three small offices with a common outer waiting area. Forge slipped into a chair and picked up a magazine. Blair’s door was open and he stood listening to some guy who, if Forge was getting the gist of the conversation, was upset about a grade he’d received for a class project. Forge arched an eyebrow and glanced over the top of his magazine every few seconds while he listened to the exchange. “You didn’t do the project as it was outlined. You failed,” Blair said. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “What I did was brilliant and creative and—” “And not the project you were assigned to complete,” Blair said. His tone was getting harsher. Forge flipped the pages of the magazine, but he wasn’t looking at it. “So, you’re saying, teaching assistant, that my work is brilliant, but you want ordinary?” Forge sort of hated this guy. “No, what I’m saying is sometimes you have to learn to complete the mundane tasks in order to advance to the more innovative ones. It’s called real life. Get used to it,” Blair said. “And, I’m a full professor now.” He wasn’t budging and that sent a warm wave of pride through Forge. To the casual observer, Blair might appear quiet, almost meek, a pushover who wasn’t aware of what was going on around him. Forge had mistakenly thought that at one time. Not anymore. “This is utter bullshit!” Forge gave up any pretext of reading and dropped the magazine to his knees. When he leaned forward and rested his chin against his hands folded together, Blair’s gaze flicked to him, and he shook his head the smallest bit. “It’s my class. I am responsible for creating the syllabus and grading the assignments. You didn’t complete the assigned work. Simple as that.” Blair punctuated his statement with a low growl it was obvious the guy couldn’t hear. “Maybe I should take this up with the department head.” This had gone on long enough. Forge slapped the magazine back into place on the table, stood up, and cleared his throat. The student—and Blair—ignored him. Though from the emotions Blair emitted and his stance, Forge could tell he was concentrating on not rolling his eyes. Blair could roll his eyes like no one else. “You go right ahead,” Blair said. “Make sure you get my name right. It’s Doctor Turner. I completed my course work and earned my degrees. Degrees, plural.” Forge crossed the room and announced, “I believe Dr. Turner and I have an appointment.” He tapped his watch for emphasis. The guy turned and poked Forge’s chest. “I’m not done here, buddy.” Forge put his hands on his hips, pulling back his jacket as he did so. “Hmm.” Blair sucked in a breath only Forge could hear, and he recognized it as that giggle/snicker sort of thing Blair did. The guy looked briefly at the badge and gun now in plain view. He blew out a disgusted breath and gave Forge another poke, saying, “I said I need a few minutes here. This is my life I’m discussing. That’s not a crime.” Forge looked down at the finger against his chest. Blair’s stance relaxed. He turned partially away, clearly trying to conceal the smile threatening to break out and scratched the back of his head. Using his best throaty vampire voice, Forge spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “And I said I have an appointment.” With another tap on his watch, he dropped his fangs a bit and let his eyes change to a solid blue. “Now.” The young man’s eyes grew wide. He stumbled away from Blair and Forge, tripping over a trash can in the process. “What the hell?” Forge twisted around and pursued him. “Here, let me help you.” He took the man’s arm, ushering him along a bit faster. His voice and appearance were normal again. “I… this….” The student hurried into the hall. Blair called after him and pointed. “The department head is down the hall, third door on the right. Big sign that says Department Head.” In the next instant, he put his hand against Forge’s chest. “You can’t do that.” “What?” Forge slipped one arm around Blair’s waist. “No one saw me change or move that fast.” He tugged Blair closer and walked them backward into the office, kicking the door shut behind him. “Though, my badass act works much better without you giggling in the background.” “You can’t—” Blair sucked in a breath and his voice cracked when Forge ran his other hand up Blair’s spine, bent his head and licked Blair’s neck. “—intimidate everyone—” His speech faltered as Forge’s tongue slithered slowly over Blair’s ear. “—who…. Stop! I only have forty-five minutes for lunch, and I’m hungry.” “So am I.” Forge used his fangs to lightly bite the tender flesh under Blair’s jaw. He was rewarded with the reaction he hoped for. Blair moaned and leaned more heavily against him, hips stuttering forward. “We’re men. Forty-five minutes is plenty of time to eat and get a quickie.” Blair squirmed and Forge let his grip be broken. “Be nice to the students, and I’m serious. We can’t do this…that…here.” Forge sighed and leaned to the side to open the door. “It’s my sworn duty as your soulmate to protect you and defend you. That’s rule number one of the vampire code.” Blair let the eye roll loose. It was probably painful to contain it for so long. “There is no vampire code, and I don’t need defending. I was taking care of myself years before I met you and your—” He paused, raised his eyebrows, grinned wickedly, and poked Forge’s chest. “--badge.” Forge waved out the door and stepped to the side so Blair could exit the small office. He stopped and waited for Blair to lock up, then walked beside him to the elevator. “You know what’s going on here, right?” “Five weeks until the anniversary of my dad’s funeral, which means—” “Five weeks and a day until the anniversary of when you were changed. You’ll be contagious,” Forge finished for him and pushed the down button. Blair nodded. “You’re only going to get more intense and worse, aren’t you?” “But that’s why you love me.” Forge let Blair enter the elevator first. They were alone. “For my badge and all.” “Declan is right, you and Lucas spend far too much time together. You’re both incorrigible.” Forge chuckled, and Blair gifted him with another eye roll as they took up their places in the cafeteria line. He put his most charming smile on his face when a girl picked up a tray and joined the line right behind them. “Hello.” Minor irritation skimmed the surface of Blair’s emotions, and Forge felt it prickle his senses. The girl cocked her head and flipped her hair. “Are you new here?” she asked and brushed her hand over Forge’s. Her gaze raked up and down his body. “I’m visiting.” They moved along the line, and he picked up a few dishes. “She’s a student,” Blair whispered. Forge leaned closer to Blair, dropped his voice an octave, and said, “I don’t work here.” He was using what Lucas liked to refer to as “Forge’s fuck me” voice. “Oh,” the girl said. “Even better.” She inched close enough to rub her arm against his. Forge basked in the tidal wave of heat, desire, and jealousy that swirled away from Blair to surround him. Blair grabbed one of the dishes from Forge’s tray and put it back. “Don’t eat the mystery green stuff—it’s not broccoli.” He leaned around Forge, forcing him back a step, and spoke to the girl. “You’re barking up a very wrong tree. He’s gay. He’s mine. And it’s spectacular.” The girl stared at Blair for a few seconds before taking her tray and storming away. Forge shrugged and picked up his tray. “Good luck with school.” “Table,” Blair growled and pointed out the direction. “Over there.” Trailing behind him, Forge feigned innocence. “I distinctly remember you telling me to be nice to the students.” Blair dropped his tray onto a table. “Yeah, be nice. Not use that tone and your—badge—in a way that makes them want to undress and fling themselves at your feet.”    
0 Comments
Vincent Traughber Meis has a new MM romance out: Iguana. And there's a giveaway! Dawson Wozniak moved to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico looking for a change after ending a long-term relationship. Returning to the site where his parents honeymooned, immersing himself in the local culture, and meeting new friends was sure to bring adventure and, hopefully, clarity about both his past and his future. His apartment building’s manager, Ivan, throws a wrench in the plan with his handsome looks, occasional flirting, and forced distance. Just as they are about to test their undeniable curiosity and attraction for each other, a tragedy strikes the building, forcing Dawson and Ivan apart. When it seems there are too many obstacles, Ivan insists they can’t explore their chemistry. Still, he keeps coming back and pulling Dawson in, teasing him with possibility but filling him with doubt. Soon Dawson is consumed with thoughts of Ivan and his mercurial attention, and he can’t help but compare himself to the tragic gay characters in the books he edits. One minute Ivan is playful and laughing, and the next he’s cold and aloof, battling with cultural expectations and familial responsibilities. Dawson gives into the push and pull of this confusing but exhilarating relationship, trying to convince himself he can handle a no-strings-attached situation with a man who is still coming to terms with his sexuality...even if he knows that he would love nothing more than to have Ivan fully, openly, and all to himself. While this confusing relationship may not be the adventure he was expecting, it may just be the adventure that allows Dawson to decide exactly who and where he wants to be. Warnings: COVID, death, drug/alcohol use, possible suicide, mention of rape Universal Buy LinkGiveaway Vincent is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour: Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47326/ Excerpt
A rustling in the dry undergrowth and the crackling of twigs indicated a large-ish animal. It spotted me before I spotted it, but even with its camouflage, it couldn’t hide in the sparse surroundings. The iguana slithered up the embankment to higher ground with its long black and tan striped tail fanning back and forth to aid its escape. It climbed a tree and moved out on a branch that hung over the sidewalk in front of me. I stopped. It stopped. I took a step forward. It crawled out a little further on the branch as if it was a gatekeeper. I had never been that close to an iguana, just ten feet above me, looking fierce with a torso about three feet long and a dewlap of variegated skin fluttering under its throat. A row of spikes ran down the spine, getting shorter as they reached the long tail. I’d been told they were harmless as long as they weren’t threatened. Some people even took them on as unlikely pets, putting them on leashes and charging tourists to take a picture with them. But there was something about the way it stared at me that kept me frozen there on the pavement, wondering if it was safe to walk under its perch on the branch. I stared back. For what seemed a long time, we stared at each other. And then, its scaly eyebrow closed over the black marble pupil in a bed of yellow iris. If we had been playing a game of who blinks first, I had won. I didn’t feel like a winner, though, and the iguana didn’t seem to care as it continued to observe me, blinking as if bored with the relative newcomer on the planet. I nodded, acknowledging I was an invader in its land. Not just as a foreigner but as a human carving into the jungle habitat of the animal. I was in Mexico for a new beginning, walking down the hill to do my shopping, if this beast would let me. Sweat began pooling in the middle of my chest, and I needed to move on. As I passed under the branch, I swear the iguana shrugged and looked away as if it was done with me. I felt dismissed. And then I began to laugh, a laughter of relief and surprise, thrilled with this new experience, one more in a long list that seemed a daily occurrence since I had moved here. The day had begun with clear skies broadcasting hope, the balcony slightly cooler than inside the house as I lingered over my breakfast, feeling the view of the Bay of Banderas from Punta de Mita to Los Arcos like a physical thing that coddled me. We were in the dog days of summer, with the dog-star, Sirius, rising and setting about the same time as the sun. It was the hottest time of the year, and relief only came, I was told by my neighbors, when afternoon showers again pelted the corrugated roofs of the neighborhood down below. Everyone talked of the rains coming late this year. Before the heat and humidity became too oppressive, I planned to walk down the hill to the market and buy food for the next few days when the forecasters insisted the heavy rains would come, ushered in by thunder and lightning. I would get back up the hill before the church bells struck ten in the plaza below. I stepped out of the apartment into the stuffy hall, which smelled of fried onions and spices I couldn’t identify from the apartment across the hall. I summoned the elevator and watched the short countdown from the rooftop to my floor. When the doors opened, Ivan in his company logo polo shirt and jeans stood chewing on one of his fingernails. He dropped his hands and folded them in front of his crotch as he stepped aside and made room. “Buenos días, señor Dawson.” “Hola, Ivan.” I leaned against the back wall and watched his blurry reflection in the shiny metal of the doors. On the next floor, he got off, and as the doors closed, I let out the breath I didn’t know I had been holding. The tension I felt when near him made no sense. Ivan had been hired a few months before as the day manager who oversaw daily operations in the twelve-unit building curiously named Paradiso, which sounded both presumptuous and unsettling. He handled everything from delivering packages to residents’ doors to coordinating cleanups to keeping the place secure. Everyone found him friendly and efficient. Everyone loved him. Why did I often see him joking and bantering in English and Spanish with other residents when he was all business and cold with me? Why did my packages sometimes go undelivered when everyone else got theirs the same day? Author Bio
Vincent Traughber Meis grew up in Decatur, Illinois and graduated from Tulane University in New Orleans. He has also traveled extensively, and as result of his travels and time abroad he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles, but also a few poems and book reviews, in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World in the 1980s and 90s. He has published five novels with Fallen Bros Press: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019). Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012.Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Deluge won a Rainbow Award in 2016. His sixth novel The Mayor of Oak Street was released in 2021 with NineStar Press and a book of his short stories in 2021. Three more novels have been published with Spectrum Books, First Born Sons (2023), Colton's Terrible Wonderful year (2023) and The Long Journey to You (2024). His stories have been published in several collections, including WITH: New Gay Fiction, and other collections. He lives in San Leandro, California and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Author Website: https://www.vincentmeis.com Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/vincentmeis Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/vincenttraughbermeis Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vincentmeisauthor Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5755735.Vincent_Meis Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B00J7YZQU4 
  Maybe Forge would be able to move fast enough, and maybe Lucas would be able to intercept without getting stabbed himself. Those weren’t odds he was willing to take. The man began backing toward the exit. Lucas put his arms in the air, and Forge sneezed again, staggered to his feet, and doubled over. Lucas still had enough wolf out to bare his teeth. He growled and said, “I’m going to find you. This isn’t over.” The man turned and ran. A moment later, Lucas heard the sound of a motorcycle roaring away into the distance. Read more snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Code Name Jack Rabbit is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited. NEW RELEASE 
Book Title: Charmed by Destiny (Arcane Havoc, Book 2) Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations Release Date: May 15, 2025 Genre: MM Fantasy/Paranormal Romance Trope: Fated mates Heat Rating: 3 flames Length: 87 435 words It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger. Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited 
Neither Richard nor Lucas want a relationship despite their attraction, but destiny already has them in her sights. Blurb Richard Marwood has no interest in relationships. After a few awful brushes with intimacy, he refuses to try again. Sex is required for a necromancer to find their soulmate, but Richard doesn’t care. He won’t be disappointed by one more handsome creep. In the ten years since Lucas Wynnter was summoned from the dead as an inspirit, he has aided his necromancer. Together, they have traveled across the country and stayed in countless rundown motels. But they are out of money. Lucas’s summoner learns that the Marwoods assist abandoned inspirits, and he convinces Lucas to apply for a job. Although Lucas doesn’t want to be discarded, he does want to help. He shows up at a Marwood casino and, on his first day, meets Richard. Lucas is attracted to Richard, but he works for him. Plus, Lucas won’t be staying. He is building his savings and plans to reunite with his necromancer. Richard shouldn’t be fascinated by Lucas, but he can’t stop thinking about him. For months they ignore the electricity arcing between them—until Richard’s cousin dares him to take another chance. Should Richard risk humiliation and ask Lucas to spend the night with him? Lucas is charmed by the awkward invitation, but neither man is prepared for destiny to intervene. Once their souls touch, nothing in their lives will ever be the same. Excerpt Richard straightened, and with his pulse pounding in his ears, he headed for Lucas. Am I really doing this? Richard swallowed thickly as Lucas turned and smiled at him. How embarrassing would it be if Lucas told him no? “Hey,” Richard said in an attempt at casualness when he was a few feet from Lucas. “Hey, are you okay?” Lucas asked, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. “Yeah, why?” “I don’t know, your eyes look a little wild and your face is flushed.” “Oh, how weird,” Richard managed and tried not to wince at how his voice cracked on the words. “So, I…um, well, I had a question.” Richard had never propositioned anyone, and he was apparently abysmal at it. Lucas’s expression was a mixture of concern and bemusement. The stupid card was still in Richard’s hand, and he wasn’t sure if he should give it to Lucas or run for his life. “What do you need help with?” “I don’t need help. Okay, maybe that’s not correct. It’s sort of helping, but more like a team thing. I don’t know how to explain it without making it creepy, really. At least not without everyone around us figuring it out, and I’d like to keep things private.” “Okay,” Lucas replied slowly. Richard’s face was on fire, but he’d made it this far. He wasn’t being smooth, and it was definitely awkward. Score two points for my lack of game, he mused distractedly. “I have a card. Um. It’s to my room. Here at the hotel. I was thinking maybe you could use it. I can’t leave yet, but I could meet you up there later.” “Meet you later? I don’t understand.” Humiliation filled Richard, and he shook his head. “Sorry, I should go.” He turned on his heel, and his jaw flexed. But before he could take a step, Lucas said his name. “Richard, please don’t leave.” Forcing himself to face Lucas, Richard looked up at the inspirit. “It’s okay, I was asking you to do something highly inappropriate for two coworkers anyway.” Lucas’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened painfully. To Richard’s shock, he tugged the key from the necromancer’s fingers and quickly pocketed it. “No, I’m a fucking idiot. How the hell didn’t I figure out what you were…anyway, yeah. I’d love to meet you later.” Richard grinned like a fool, and Lucas returned his smile. His dimple deepened, and Richard nearly swooned. It was either because of Lucas’s attractiveness—which was growing with every second—or the adrenalize zipping through Richard at lightning speed. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you then.” “Yeah, I can leave like whenever, right?” “Sure. I have to do some family stuff or whatever, but um, yeah, whatever. It shouldn’t be too messy. You could watch TV. Maybe play on your phone. There’s a bathroom. Well, of course there’s a fucking bathroom. I’m babbling, so I’m gonna go.” Lucas winked. “Okay.” “Okay,” Richard replied. He raced away from the inspirit as if his ass were on fire. Now he had to figure out how to calm down enough to have a normal conversation so no one was clued in to the fact that he’d invited a sexy inspirit to his hotel room. And survive whatever awaited him with Lucas upstairs later. Richard didn’t know if he’d made a smart decision, but it was far from his normal controlled evenings at home. Would he survive his recklessness with his heart and dignity intact? About the Author Jessamyn Kingley has published over forty titles and refuses to pick a favorite among them. With an extraordinary passion for her characters, Jessamyn eagerly crafts new tales and avidly re-reads them whenever her schedule allows. Jessamyn shares a home in Nevada with her husband and their three spoiled cats. When she is not writing or adding new ideas to her thick stack of beloved notebooks, she is gaming with family and friends. Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's 
 Sometimes, one simple act could change your life. For Ian Groden, one simple act was a recurring event. The sound of the garage door closing barely registered while he sat in his car and reread the small greeting card in his hand. He started when the alarm on his watch went off. A few seconds later, the auto lock on the door leading from the garage to the house engaged with a click that echoed through the garage. “Fuck,” Ian spat and crumpled the card in his fist. Ian shoved out of the car, grabbed his briefcase, and slammed the door shut. “Just fucking perfect!” He dropped his briefcase next to the two steps leading to the door, sat down, and banged his head against the door. Ian tended to be a workaholic. His husband, and Dom, Taren Murdoch had rules about a healthy work/home balance. One hard and fast rule was that Ian had to be home by 5 p.m. sharp, any later, and the door locked. If Ian wasn’t inside the house by the time the lock engaged there would be repercussions. If there were an emergency, he could override the code and get in, of course. Ian preferred not to use the override. In truth, repercussions, discipline--punishment—were things Ian normally looked forward to, and if the mood struck him, he would linger in his car until the lock engaged. Tonight, this was not the case. His home was his sanctuary, and he wanted to get inside. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt before fishing his phone from his suit jacket and called Taren. “Murdoch.” “The door is locked,” Ian blurted out. Taren drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Hold on.” Ian heard Taren moving and then he said in a muffled voice, “I have to take this; it’s Ian.” Someone asked if Ian was all right, and Taren’s response was, “Yes, I think so.” A minute later Taren asked, “Are you okay? Was there an emergency at work?” “N-no. Emergency, I mean.” “Ian,” Taren spoke slowly, drawing Ian’s name out. “Boy. Are you okay?” Being called ‘boy’ immediately dropped Ian into his sub role. “Yes. No. Maybe. Sir.” “Well, that clears everything up.” Taren paused for a minute. “Go inside, get settled, I’ll be home in about an hour, hopefully a little less. Pick out what you’d like to use later this evening if you’re in the mood.” As if Ian was never in the mood for Taren’s skillful attention.       Forge put his earbud in and activated it. Blair did the same before he put his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket, along with a thumb drive and some other odds and ends from his equipment bag. He picked up the cane Declan had loaned him and explained, “My leg hurts a little.” “Hmm… I think it’s more like you think the cane makes you look all James Bond cool,” Forge said and grinned. Blair shrugged and smiled. “You were chasing two men the night you were caught in the implosion, correct?” They heard Maisy ask through their earbuds. Blair and Forge glanced at one another. “Yeah,” Blair said softly. Maisy continued, “There is a lot of chatter among hotel security about someone tampering with the Wi-Fi and other computer-controlled functions. They have pictures of him.” “So not our vampire,” Forge said. “I’m texting all of you his photo,” Declan chimed in. “The elusive Mr. Black, our vampire’s accomplice. We’re going to keep an eye on him and see if he meets up with a certain vampire.” “Dark-side vamp just showed up in the main exhibit room,” Lucas said. “He’s got red hair, glasses, and is wearing boring khakis and a dark green polo shirt. Dane is closer and getting a few snapshots, but it’s him. He can’t hide his body’s scent.” “And that right there makes werewolves so valuable in a case like this,” Palle added. “I need to see the server room and the guest computer center to see what’s happening with the hotel tech equipment,” Blair said to Forge. “It shouldn’t take long.” “Lucas, you and Dane stick with him until Blair gets down to the exhibit room. If he moves, stay with him so Blair can bump into him when we’re done in the server room,” Forge said quickly. “I’ll go with Blair so he can do what he needs to do before we begin baiting the vampire.” Forge opened the door of their room and nodded Blair out into the hallway. The chatter between them stopped as Blair and Forge made their way down the hall to the main level of the hotel. Occasionally they heard one of the others talking to someone, but that was it. The hotel was massive and designed in the shape of a rectangle. There was no wall opposite the rooms, but a continuous balcony that circled the central atrium, open from the main floor to the glassed-in ceiling, every floor above as well as below them visible. They were on the fifth floor, and there were five more floors above theirs. Blair followed Forge to the railing of the balcony. Forge glanced over, turning his head one way, then the other. “This place is a security nightmare,” he grumbled. “Yes, but I don’t think people would want to vacation or attend a convention somewhere with your idea of being secure,” Blair pointed out. Forge snorted and shrugged but didn’t otherwise reply. He and Forge ambled along to the stairs. One of the first things Blair had learned as a field operative was when there was a choice and the time, take the stairs. Declan told him the stairs would allow greater chances to observe a building such as this and the people around him. Forge referred to elevators as ambushes waiting to happen. Since they’d become operatives, he would almost never get into one if given a choice. This hotel promoted taking the stairs, which Blair was sure made his soulmate ecstatic. Wide, central steps started at the topmost floor and wound through each floor to the main level.  Quarry is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.    “Gas gets stolen all the time, batteries not as commonly, but they do. However, someone wouldn’t just happen upon your truck at your house. So, I’m going to say that was a message. The sort of message I don’t like,” Wyatt said. “Once we’re back and have said hello the right way, there are a few things I want to get done tonight.” Val looked to the side and smiled. “Hello the right way? I think I like the sound of that.” An hour later Val was spread naked on his couch, and Wyatt covered him as they slipped and slid together. Val groaned and hung on tightly, finding comfort in Wyatt’s tenderness and touches. “Saying hello” was an excellent way to forget the message of the night before. There are a grand collection of snippets in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. Run for the Roses is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited. Clint blew out a harsh breath. He looked down at his arms. They were tied in front of him with chain. Another chain ran from his wrists to a ring bolted to the floor of the car. Chains encircled his ankles that led back to the ring as well. “I have to take a leak.” “We’ll stop soon. Get some food, something to drink, use a restroom.” Dylan reached over and ran his hand over Clint’s thigh, using his fingertips to press against the sensitive part next to the inseam of his jeans. “Get your hands off me,” Clint snarled. “I don’t know what you think, but Griff’s going to kill you when he finds me.” The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. Can’t hide behind Griff’s badge. I won’t hide behind Griff or his badge. His brief glance at his own leg made him realize these weren’t the jeans he remembered wearing last, nor was this his shirt. How he came to be in different clothing was something he decided not to think about. That decision didn’t stop a shiver from working through him. Dylan chuckled again. It was a sick, cold sound. “Oh, we won’t have to worry about Griff anymore. I promise.” He removed his hand from Clint’s leg and grabbed the steering wheel so he could hold his other hand up for Clint to see. “Or his dogs. Especially the bastard who bit me.” “Our dogs.” Clint’s voice broke. He wanted to believe Dylan wasn’t able to hurt Griff. Yes, Dylan had gotten the drop on Clint, but Griff was a professional whose life revolved around protecting others and himself. He had training and skills when it came to self-defense. Clint couldn’t get through this without utter conviction Griff was alive and well despite Dylan’s words. Phoenix and Fern he wasn’t as confident about. A silent cheer went through Clint’s head at the sight of the crude gauze bandage with blood oozing through it. He hoped Phoenix had chomped down hard enough to do real damage to Dylan’s hand. The sort of damage that prevented it from being used normally after it healed. “Anyway, I have a nice trip planned for us. You’ll see how much I want to be like you and love you enough to be with you,” Dylan said without taking his eyes off the road. “And you think threatening the man I live with, the one I actually love, and our dogs, then taking me by force is going to endear you to me?” Clint shouted and tried jerking his feet up and down again. “Stop it!” Dylan snapped. He punched Clint’s head twice. “This is our adventure into love. It’s just you and me and no one else from now on.” The punches stunned Clint. He sucked in a breath and tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. Dylan’s fingers curled in Clint’s hair. He yanked Clint toward him, then away in rapid succession and slammed Clint’s head back against the headrest. Small sparks of pain lanced through his shoulders and down his back until Dylan released him and he could hold his head at a normal angle again. Clint squeezed his eyes shut but couldn’t stop the few tears that trickled down his cheeks. He pressed his lips together and kept his eyes closed, repeating in his head that until he saw proof otherwise, Griff and their dogs were unharmed.      Val chuckled. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I really do miss you.” “I’ve known you long enough, and I miss you too.” Wyatt’s voice was soft and kind. It sent warm feelings through Val. “But work before play. We’ll discuss the rest when I get back. Face-to-face, not on the phone. So, do you want to hear about my incredible skills at digging up details or not?” That made Val laugh outright, and he could hear a soft laugh in return from Wyatt. “You know I do.” “I’m e-mailing you some pictures; see if you recognize any of the people now. I found the connection to the Nottings and Paulle. Mrs. Notting—Carol—is Marcus’s half-sister. They have different fathers.” “So, different last names,” Val said. “Exactly!” Wyatt sounded so excited it gave Val chills. His enthusiasm was infectious. “What else?” “Well, funny you should ask. Carol and Marcus’s mother had a small Thoroughbred breeding farm. She wasn’t involved so much in racing, but did do some showing and judging of dressage horses. She had a couple good horses from good bloodlines. Small operation—cleaned the stalls herself and gave riding lessons to kids.” Wyatt paused and Val heard him move around, and swallow. “Not unheard of,” Val said. “The filly that was stolen and then killed traced her bloodlines to a stallion Mom owned.” “Wow, that’s a helluva coincidence,” Val said. Wyatt snorted. “Tell me about it. I’m not sure how this fits in with whoever is running around killing people. Yet. And I’m not sure it’s important. Yet.” “But there’s more,” Val said. “Oh, yeah. There was a trainer, just starting off about a decade ago. He had a kid working for him as a stable hand. There were some issues with a jockey fixing races. The kid, he was seventeen at the time, moved messages between the jockey and whoever was running the fixes,” Wyatt said. “And if it went south, he was a juvenile, and records would be sealed and expunged,” Val said. “So was the trainer involved?” “I’m not sure. But I did find out who the kid was.” Wyatt stopped and didn’t say any more. Val was on his feet and pacing. “Who? God, the suspense is killing me.” “Didn’t Janelle say Charlie knew nothing about horses?” Wyatt paused and Val heard papers shuffling. “And that he gambled a lot?” Val stopped pacing and looked out the window. He felt the hair on the back of neck bristle. “How long before he became abusive?” Val drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Uh…I think….” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, turned away from the window, and moved to the couch. “They got in deep fast. He always gave me the creeps, but seemed okay with her for the first few months. Real smooth and nice. Then he changed. She never said why, but it seemed like it was overnight.” “Did he ever watch her race?” “Yeah, at first. Why?” Val asked. “That fits perfectly. The kid’s name? Charlie Mills. My theory is it wasn’t a random event that Janelle met him. She started out as his mark. But he got possessive and probably realized she wasn’t going to throw races. I bet he figured a pretty girl, she’s tiny and would be easily intimidated,” Wyatt said. “But he didn’t take into consideration that a hundred pounds of jockey rides twelve-hundred pounds of attitude. And my money is usually on the jockey.” “You catch on quick. We make a good team, and that makes me happy,” Wyatt said. Val opened his mouth to ask another question, but he was cut off when all three of his dogs jumped up and ran to the window, barking. “What’s that?” Wyatt’s voice rose just enough to set Val’s nerves on edge. “Something outside, I think.” Val stood up and started across the room. Val stopped short when Wyatt barked, “Stay away from the windows! Is everything locked?”  My snippet this week is from Shifting Chaos, book 4 of The Sleepless City (series cowritten with Anne Barwell.)  Jonas glanced back at Blair and cocked an eyebrow. “Those morons on the Council cannot do this and I told them so.” “They’re not going to let up on us,” Simon said. “There were solid blue eyes and fangs everywhere!” Lucas spread his arms wide. Simon gasped, and Declan asked the question first. “You vamped out in front of the city council?” “Oh, hell, no. We all know the Supernatural Council was behind this and that bitch of a mayor, Hillary Lassiter, knows that I know it,” Jonas growled. Declan stepped close to Jonas and took his arm. “You broke down a door and yelled, didn’t you?” Behind them Lucas barked a laugh. “It was awesome! First we go to the Curio Shoppe, and when he went in, the minions came running out like they were cockroaches and Forge here was a can of Raid.” Lucas did a few boxing air punches, then clapped Jonas on the back. “Got your back, brother! He did three solid verbal rounds with Uncle Jasper before the werewolves with no necks showed up and we opted to leave.” He scratched at the side of his neck so Declan could see his raw and scraped knuckles. There are plenty of more snippets to read in the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group! Shifting Chaos is available in eBook, paperback
and through Kindle Unlimited. |
 Welcome to My World
|
RSS Feed
