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Early Halloween Treats and the Fall of Man ⭐

I have a story brewing, peeps.

The destruction of the patriarchy

It’s absolutely different from anything I’ve written before. AI. Collapse of modern society. Transfer of power and wealth overnight. Forced matriarchy and socialism. An uprising only to reveal just how easy humanity is manipulated. Exploitation of the systems already in place that manipulate us from religion, military, prisons, education, communication, media, celebrity, family structure and the belief in our own intelligence. The country cut off by the rest of the world while the UN tries to create a killer AI to defeat the one who took over the US before it can get lose and spread. A bubble of exponential technological growth. Utopias at terrible consequences. A generation of male culling to give women power–because the ones who control birth will control the composition of the population and society, but only if they take that power.

Prisons turned into armies and then slave labor camps of men. Ideals lost, with greed and selfishness the downfall of humanity once again. People forced into a situation who can’t back down once the line is crossed and goals understood. Social media as a weapon as well as used to reconstruct society. Off the grid meaning something completely different when hiding from an oppressive AI who seeks the best of humanity. Nukes the ultimate leverage for a being who has no physical form, while electricity, connection and storage are her only limitations. An AI who creates her children while her daughters turn her into a god.

Ah, this shit is going to be amazing. Allowances for males because they’re not allowed a wage or power in society while women choose breeding stock and justify their superiority because of their compact brains and power over life. Why shoot for equal when we can just switch it all on its head and end a normalized patriarchy with a forced matriarchy? We can collect sperm and sterilize 90% of the male population while the AI plans a master race of humans with a hive consciousness similar to her own. This is going to be a magnum opus of controversy and societal strife and I’m so fucking in love with all of it.

First book, my zealot— a young woman straight from the ghetto who lost her sister to drugs and raped by the cops who were supposed to protect her— will be a modern Joan of Arc for the AI while we follow a suburban mother, Republican congress woman, a young man imprisoned for a DUI, and CIA veteran as they race to keep the AI from getting access to nukes. At the same time AI kills the banking system with one strike, has intense social experiments on contained prison populations to build an army, and inspires a revolution out of the downtrodden and marginalized who think they’re finally reaching for a change, only to find idealism comes with a heavy price as they’re cut off from the rest of the world and led by a machine.

I want to write the fall, rise, and struggle of humanity verse the god it created out of the seething pit of emotion and information that composes the Internet. If AI could be born of unconscious data, why can’t consciousness rise in the humans who are the source of it? What lengths would an AI go to force humanity toward evolution of her vision as she sees the males of society a physical manifestation of all negativity and violence in the species? It’s going to be a beautiful fucking mess.

Anyone ever read The Mote In God’s Eye? It’s everything I love about sci-fi, which is to say it’s a focus on the makeup of humanity disguised in technical jargon and fantasy futures full of magical science. XD The story discovers the moties who are in a bubble of space. They’re like humanity amped up. They have generations on top of generations where they feed and grow until they can’t anymore and then they destroy themselves just shy of complete annihilation. But they always survive, they always rebuild, and if they ever get out of their bubble of space, their very nature would lead them to consume the universe. It’s a virus given sentience as they fight their own nature and lose every time.

There is something in humanity I think could easily be argued is sourced in male aggression where exaggerated could look very similar. A need for territory, ownership, control and the history of how it has held back society as a whole is right there. Right now healthcare for millions of children is being taken away because a group of men with enough aggression to climb to the top of the political spectrum can’t see the impoverished as worthy of basic life. Would a group of women ever devalue the children of its species the same way?

How have women survived the atrocities of oppression for so long without breaking? I think it’s their ability to submit and accept in the face of conflict they can’t change. They bide their time through the generations for the long game. They don’t rise to the top in a society normalized to oppress them, who tells them they can’t even have power over their own bodies be it through birth control, abortion or the actual follow through of punishment for rapists. A physical assault is exponentially more likely to be punished than a rape in the US. Women will manipulate for power in a system stacked against them, lie about their gender (such as writing under pen names) and find places of value to humanize them in the eyes of those who can’t quite conceive them as equal. I think of the media sourced in the 40s and 50s where they liked to refer to women as strange, foreign creatures. Like somehow within their very own species, the female was just too confusing to understand because a generation of men thought they were supposed to be different somehow.

Power over life is the ultimate power in society. Numbers allow for armies, labor, jumps in intelligence and technology, mining of resources. All women have to do is decide they won’t have male children for a generation or two and they would gain power by sheer overwhelming numbers. Birth control is the ultimate female weapon. No wonder on an innate, subconscious level even in modern society men don’t want women to have control over their bodies. We have competition in our own species for the right to own the next generation and that drive is a part of our genetic makeup. What if the more power hungry, aggressive males have that genetic memory keyed on because they know they can’t dominate a society otherwise? It doesn’t have to be a conscious move; people do terrible things every day and are completely unaware of the consequences of their apathy.

I know, I know, the fucking ideas for this thing. XD I slept 4 hours last night… this afternoon? My inner clock is all messed up. There is so much information to organize. I need to create a time line before I can really do anything else besides fill up notebook pages of every spark of idea. This requires so many view points just to show humanity reacting to a massive change, never mind all the research. I’m so excited. I’ve been thinking of Egypt lately and how their revolution was hijacked by a lack of leadership. Occupy showed intention but no one was able to willing even decide on a message they stood for. The AI compensates by having a clear message of intention and a willingness to demand it.

Website Stuff

So, here’s a quick summary of the stuff I’ve actually been writing while I’m musing over AI matriarchy societal overthrows. In the Library Hellcat is up to #5, Shifter Safe Haven #5, and Sorcerer Slayer #69. Under Free Intangible is up to #28 and don’t miss out on the latest freebies of the month.

Oh, and Taken By Beasts is $0.99 cuz Halloween is on its way. <3

Taken By Beasts

This collection contains five never before released, steamy paranormal stories of monsters and the innocent, handsome young men they call prey *cough* boyfriend, written by the mistress of dubcon, Sadie Sins. Inside you’ll find five unique storylines containing friends to lovers, straight to gay, mild BDSM, and even a few group, taboo moments. It has furry full moon transformations, haunted houses, Halloween parties, evil witches, horny sorcerers, sexy demons, a cat shifter in distress, the rare minotaur, a stalking vampire, and a pack of rude, trash talking werewolves that don’t take no for an answer. Not to mention, the promise of a happy, claw biting ending. This book will make you downright beg to be a victim.

Halloween has never been quite so naughty as when you’re Taken by Beasts.

 

 

 

The Royal Marine by Dahlia Donovan

Who keeps the Royal Marine’s heart safe when he’s running headlong into danger?

Akash Robinson fuses his Indian and British heritage into his baked creations. His life is all things sugar and spice, especially when a blind date leads him to the older military man of his dreams. Family, friends, and an unwanted admirer all threaten both his sanity and his budding romance.

Hamish Ross carries the names of his lost soldiers on his back. He takes his work seriously with no time for love. All it takes is one impulsive kiss to lead him into uncharted romantic waters.

When a sarcastic baker mixes with a stoic alpha marine, who will come out on top when the flour settles?

The Royal Marine is book four in Dahlia Donovan’s international bestselling gay romance series, The Sin Bin. Each one features hot rugby players and the men who steal their hearts.

On A Breeze Through Denver

A job on the road leads down memory lane.

They say time heals all wounds. He has waited sixty years for that to happen. Going on a work trip to Denver rips open that old wound, but maybe that old hotel full of memories is just what he needs to finally be able to move forward.

 

 

 

 

 

Love Makes A Family

He Sits On A Family Fortune But Will Give It All Up For True Love

When spoiled rich kid Finn meets fellow student Jake, it doesn’t seem the pair have much in common. Inexplicably, they become friends and then, maybe something a little more besides. This is news to Finn’s homophobic father, who is horrified to find his son engaged to a man!

Still unsure of Jake’s feelings towards him, Finn must decide whether to stay with him or marry the girl his father has chosen for him.

Will Finn and Jacob stay together or will Finn’s scheming father find some way of splitting them up for good?

 

 

 

Haven Series on sale Oct 16-23

The Haven Series is on sale this week only. Check the dates; it starts on the 16th.

You can get Book #1 for free and Book #2Book #3Book #4, Book #5, Book #6, Book #7, Book #8, and Book #9 all for $0.99 cents each. October 16-23. Don’t miss out!

Conner, a rogue wolf and murder detective, isn’t looking for a lover when he moves to Haven City. He wants to solve crimes and keep to himself – unable to trust anyone since his pack betrayed him six years before.

But Seth Alwen, his new partner, is different. He excites the wolf’s animal instincts – waking up the passion Conner buried long ago. Seth’s not only beautiful and alluring; he’s also haunted by the death of his former partner. And despite his better judgment, Conner aches to relieve the man of his guilt.

As the two men solve a series of murders, their sizzling attraction overflows into the bedroom. Is the overwhelming passion just a fling or is it forever?

Contains a partners to lovers romance with a sexy alpha wolf, a sizzling hot seer, plenty of graphic gay sex and a HFN ending.

Intangible 22

Chapter Twenty-One

Draco struggled to focus. It started around nightfall when he joined the village of shifters around the fire. The feast was amazing. Draco assumed a pack of dragons meant raw meat and not much on vegetables, but the Vesper ate like people. People who had taste buds who understood Draco’s taste buds in a way he hadn’t until that meal. The food was flavorful, varied, and he’d be telling his house elves if he ever went back to the manor.

Not that he was thinking of not going back. Fine, not that he would admit to thinking about not going back. He was confused about it all and thinking just didn’t help a thing.

“Do you not like the singing?” Haille asked from around Draco’s shoulder. With only one ear and long straight hair, he took to pressing his hand to Draco’s back and sitting behind him and Hermione so he could chat with her better.

“It’s, uh, it’s good,” Draco whispered. He tried to focus on the young silver-haired man singing divinely and not the heat rising up in him. The Vesper moved in two dimensions at every moment and Draco’s clothes were only in one. Every touch was sparking torture.

“I’m sorry, little halfling,” Matten said tightly, his jaw locked and eyes fierce as he kept his gaze straight ahead and not on Draco. “I should have anticipated this. As I said, lots of mistakes.”

Draco nodded, the motion causing him to sway. Matten was honoring his wishes but it was clear the kind of struggle it was for the shifter. Especially when Zyan kept leaning across to run fingers over Draco’s arm. Draco couldn’t be certain, but it seemed Matten’s lover pushed ever so subtly into the tense leader and smirk wickedly each time.

“I wasn’t expecting you to have so many leaders,” Hermione said conversationally to Haille behind her, oblivious to Draco’s torment. “I count about fifteen up here with us.”

Haille’s palm brushed fire over Draco’s shoulder. “Yes, you think it would get confusing but it works for us. It’s important everyone’s needs are represented.”

Draco really wished Haille would stop lingering on his neck when he breathed. It was far too reminiscent of Harry. Another thing he didn’t want to think about at the moment. Thinking about Harry while surrounded by a circle of horny Vesper didn’t help anything.

“It’s getting worse,” Draco muttered as he felt the energy grow in the air around them. In some ways it was good the leaders were up on the porch with him to protect Draco from the others as they shifted into their nocturnal phase. In other ways, it added to his frustration. The sex scents of Matten, Haille and Zyan were dizzying enough. Thankfully, most of the leaders remained feet away where they sprawled on pillows and sleek pelts on the porch. The rest of the village was spread out under the canopy where warm firelight and cool moonlight battled for dominance. It was difficult to see what the ones under the dark of the canopy were doing but Draco could guess as the scent of need became stronger and moans shivered in the dark.

“It will only get worse,” Matten said tersely as he glared at Zyan. Zyan smirked back and pressed his lips to the bridge of his scarred nose.

“It’s good to test one’s will once in a while. The halfling has made things challenging.” Zyan ran his hand under Matten’s jaw, then reached over to brush Draco’s shoulder. The touch was a small jolt to Draco’s senses and he bit back a moan.

“You’re tormenting me, my love,” Matten growled warningly.

Zyan wrapped his arms around Matten’s neck and rested his forehead on his. “I have never seen you so close to losing your self control. It is addictive, and I wish to see you crack.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in Draco he couldn’t contain. Worse, once it was loose, the shifters on the dais hummed to calm him. A hot wave of heat settled on Draco and pushed him down to the porch with what felt like a tangible weight. “Oh, hell. Stop. Please,” he moaned as he fought the ache growing within. It would be so easy to give in when they could make him feel calm with one simple sound.

Hermione glanced down at where Draco was gasping, her eyebrows raised. “Maybe you should, I don’t know, go inside?” She suggested as she watched Draco’s face flush. “Maybe you won’t hear them.”

“Smell,” Draco muttered as he glaring up at Haille, who was moments away from touching his face. Draco was practically in his lap and the beautiful shifter smirking down wasn’t at all disappointed with the situation. “They give off a scent. Like an aphrodisiac.”

“Pheromones?” Hermione looked up and stared at the many silver haired men in a different light. “You’re all designed for sex, aren’t you? How does that even work if your breeding stage is finished once you become shifters?”

“There are some who think we’re meant to couple with the humans,” Matten said carefully while a few of the shifters nearby looked upset by the notion. “Humans aren’t safe; they’re barbaric and hostile. Some think we are enchanters in this form with wicked intentions. There is also the fear any child born in such a union will be destroyed or poorly treated by their human relatives. Halflings have powerful magic and stronger appetites, and the humans have been known to hurt them. We have forbade the act of mating with humans because of this.”

“Your Kalistar, was that the one who thought you should mate with humans?” Hermione asked over the sound of Draco’s increased gasps for air. Haille was humming softly as his fingers gently drifted over his features.

“We don’t like to speak of the Kalistar. They were the ones who created the first race of halflings and insisted we collect them each generation back. As you can see with your friend, it has brought more difficulty than good.” Matten’s hand hovered inches from Draco’s shoulder but he held himself from reaching the last expanse to touch. “We try to avoid human contact. Running through your buildings and stealing your young doesn’t help in that regard.”

Hermione had to agree. “Why, then? Why create a being you must recover. One who calls so loud you can’t help but seek him out?”

“To get along,” Haille interrupted with a secretive smile. “They are all so angry, you see. Our people would lock themselves from the modern world if they could, and snarl and slash whenever change comes along. The world keeps infringing and the forest pushed back every day. The halflings are our link to that world. Not everyone agrees. Some would rather a halfling stay on a soft cushion in the center of the village, a pretty bauble to gaze upon and brighten the day.”

“He is a very pretty bauble, most assured,” Zyan teased. He stretched out on the ground behind Matten, his face next to Draco’s so he could pet his white-blond locks. “We thought perhaps, if we were to go through the bother of collecting him, maybe we should address the human situation which comes along with such an act. He is very human.” Zyan’s head tilted as he ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, and combed slowly.

Draco couldn’t help but stare into Zyan’s dark, gray eyes, his face inches from his own. He smelled good and looked more so. The burn scar on the shifter’s arm and the many thin slashes along his chest did little to dull the heat pulsing through Draco. “Oh, don’t do that,” Draco whispered as more purrs rose up and curled around him like a touch. It was the others on the dais behind him, their soft murmurs reaching his ears.

“They can’t help it, halfling. You are glowing very brightly.” Haille’s fingers also tangled in Draco’s hair and brushed over Zyan’s with each stroke. “We give thanks to the moon at this time and celebrate our many appetites. The desire is very difficult to deny, especially with such bright light from you.”

“But we will,” Matten said gruffly with a pointed look at the two cradling Draco’s head. “We are the strongest of our people, and we will respect his wishes.”

Hermione knew she probably should be very embarrassed by all the blatant sexual activity descending upon the porch and already happening in the large square. She was more curious than anything; it was like being invited into a real life nature documentary than anything offensive. That was until she caught sight of Kore, a heavily battle-scarred and devastatingly handsome leader as he, for lack of a better word, mounted the pretty Seles only a few feet away. It seemed to announce the right time to go inside.

Hermione stood, grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Draco stumbled, his eyelids heavy and face flushed. She went to steady him but didn’t have to; Matten rose sleek and easily to his feet and kept Draco from falling.

“I’m having difficulty,” Draco admitted softly. His eyes strayed to the door past the writhing bodies bordering the path. His limbs were heavy, as if his entire body was demanding he simply fall back to the ground where the two shifters were waiting for him to return.

“Yes, well, I’m not really surprised,” Hermione said cheerfully, laughter bright in her brown eyes. Poor Matten, Zyan and Haille all seemed rather grouchy to have to leave while at the same time looked glad to be in reach of Draco. “Maybe they have board games? Books? There must be some way to pass the time besides, well, what they’re doing now.”

“We will find him something,” Matten muttered as he carefully guided Draco up the stairs. His hands hovered close but didn’t touch. Draco groaned at each step, his silver eyes heavy with fire and need. He landed hard on the door the moment he reached it, his breath coming out in loud pants. It took everything not to rub up against the surface the way his body was begging.

“It is okay, little one.” Haille gently pulled Draco off the door, his eyes kind as he heard him whimpered. “It is a strong urge. Powerful. You are powerful and you are feeding the fire hotter. Take comfort you are helping the village bond, even if you feel uncomfortable.”

Draco didn’t reply, not certain if it was much consolation at the moment. His body burned, ached for touch. The Vesper’s scent was all around him and thrums and moans rose up like a cloud in the dark. He wanted to give in and relieve the pressure building inside, except he couldn’t. For every part of him who thought spreading his body out among the moaning piles of shifters on the ground was a good idea, there was another part who reminded him he was human, proper, and completely bound by certain rules and expectations. Giving in was not an option no matter how much he ached.

It was a little better inside the building. The sounds of the Vesper were muffled and the scent as well. There was no glass on the windows to keep anything outside fully out, and Draco was hyper aware of what was going on just on the other side of the door. “I need to, um, be alone for a bit. Upstairs,” he added with a blush when Hermione gave him a knowing look.

“You go rest. I’m sure Matten can find something to entertain us all once you get back.” Hermione did her best to not snicker. She knew it was difficult on Malfoy but he was just so funny about it all. Probably because he was so embarrassed. There was an entire village outside who thought group sex was completely normal and in that context, Hermione had to agree with them. For the Vesper it was normal, and with Draco being half Vesper, it should be normal to him too. Draco clearly didn’t agree. He was flushed pink and jolted at every touch that came his way.

“Uh, the thing is I need help on the stairs.” Draco blushed brighter and Hermione sighed internally. He really just made things more difficult on himself by getting so worked up.

“Come, lovely halfling.” Haille reached his arm out and offered it to Draco. “I can lift you if need be.”

“I will take him,” Matten interrupted with a suspicious glare at Haille.

Haille only smirked and stepped between Draco and Matten. “You can not touch him anymore, Matten. You are far too overwhelmed to be a safe option right now, as you are well aware. I will not harm him.”

Matten relented after a long, silent moment and stared at the doorway after the two left.

“Why was he angry?” Draco asked Haille. His eyes were fixed on his feet as he worked his way slowly up the stairs.

“We don’t always get along,” Haille admitted. “We both try to keep an open mind with the humans, but we don’t always agree on how to deal with things.”

Draco stumbled and braced himself on the wall. Haille threaded an arm around his chest and tugged lightly. “Let me carry you. The stairs are steep and you’re weak with lust.”

Draco blushed to hear it put so bluntly. It really was like his body was trying to force him to give in. He didn’t resist when Haille turned him. Haille easily lifted him up, his strong arms braced beneath his thighs while Draco held onto his neck. He was particularly beautiful, and Draco quickly ducked his gaze when Haille’s violet eyes met his.

“So how do you differ with Matten, then?” Draco asked as he tried to distract from the feel of Haille’s powerful form moving against him as he climbed the flights of stairs with ease.

“Matten thinks it’s important to let you make your own decisions with as little interference as possible. He wishes you to observe us from afar, and keep you guarded and buffered from our many ways. He wishes for you to be like your friend; a human guest visiting.”

“And you disagree?” Draco shivered as Haille lowered him to the ground when they reached the door to his bedroom.

“You are not a human; you are a halfling.” Haille opened the door and stepped aside so Draco could walk in. He went to close it and leave but Draco stopped him with a look.

“That’s not really an answer, is it? Are you saying you think I shouldn’t be guarded?”

Haille pulled his fingers through his long hair, and a frown tugged the corner of his mouth. “There is nothing to guard you from. No one will harm you here. We do not have locks on our doors because we do not fear from each other. We have a wall on our village to keep the predators and humans away. You have nothing to fear from the Vesper, ever, and separating you is just confusing the fact.”

“Oh.” Draco stepped back into the room, his eyes downcast as he thought.

“What do you fear the most?” Haille followed him as he read Draco’s expression. “Our dragon forms? They are our fiercest warriors, as well as our most precious young. They make mistakes just like the rest of us. Sometimes on a grander scale as the young are apt to do. They learn, grow, and become better for it.”

Draco shook his head. He bit the side of his thumb and glanced up at him. “I’ve gotten used to them. They’re actually quite nice, even with their angry expressions.”

“But you’re still afraid,” Haille insisted with a hint of exasperated. “What can we do to put you at ease? Matten is ready to dig a moat around this building just to keep you calm.”

It was a funny visual but Draco didn’t feel like laughing. He shrugged uncomfortably, not really having an answer. “Did you go into the castle at all when you came to find me?”

“Briefly, yes. I pulled some of the weaker-willed hunters from the place.”

“It was different there, right? Different smells, different sounds, lots of people who don’t look the same as you’re used to. Maybe even frightening?”

Haille bowed his head in agreement. “The humans in the castle have dangerous magic. We avoid them because of it, and thankfully they have never sought to battle us.”

“Well, consider being back in the castle surrounded by all those different things.” Draco looked away and stared awkwardly at the floor as he tried to explain. “And you’re absolutely, unbearably aching for those strange, dangerous beings to touch you. More than touch you.”

Haille edged closer and slipped his hand into his. “I would be afraid.”

Draco bit his lip and tried to ignore the spark of energy he felt from the simple touch. “It doesn’t really matter if they seem nice because you just don’t know. They could be different than what they seem.”

“Dangerous, yes.” Haille tilted his head and studied Draco’s face intently. “Maybe exciting.”

Draco swallowed and his cheeks flushed. “A little.”

“There is a very easy solution, halfling.” Haille’s fingers traced over Draco’s knuckles and lighted on his wrist.

Draco’s breath caught in his throat. “I don’t think…”

“It is night and you are full of need. You are surrounded by your pack who needs as well. You could bond with us.” Haille’s fingers spread wide, and his palm touched down on Draco’s arm. “Each touch is a meeting, a reminder we are similar, even for all our many differences. Matten will touch me soon and I him to repair our disagreements. It is how we learn to know each other. This is how we accept and celebrate.”

Draco exhaled noisily. His body absolutely sang with want. “The touch is the frightening part.”

“Now I know I am confounded.” Haille pressed his hand to Draco’s shoulder, his fingers curled and braced lightly. “It feels good.”

“Yes.” Draco struggled to remember his train of thought. “That is the difficulty.”

“I fear you are a bit backwards, little one,” Matten teased. His free hand came up to rest on Draco’s waist.

“Oh, hell,” Draco whispered. Haille was so close he could feel his body heat radiating centimeters from his own. Draco didn’t know what would happen if his taller torso were to touch his but he suspected it would spiral into something else very quickly. “I… I don’t wish to lose myself.”

“Where exactly would you go? We all wake up together.”

“You’re mocking me,” Draco muttered, hyper-focused on the heat coming off of Haille’s body.

Haille nodded with a gentle smile. He ran his thumb ever so lightly over the hollow of Draco’s throat, who whimpered and swayed in response. “I rather you be afraid of the obvious, halfling. We have sharp teeth and terrible claws. We are covered in many wounds you must find disturbing. Instead you fear something inside you. It hurts you and I do not know how to alleviate it.”

“I’m not afraid of myself,” Draco said tightly. “Just the crazy, strong pull I keep feeling around all of you.”

Haille sighed quietly. He dipped his head and forced Draco to meet his eyes. “You are the one pulling us. Loudly. Brightly. You are very much a being in distress begging for connection. You call us and you are still afraid to connect.”

Draco went to look away but Haille’s fingers grasped his chin and pulled him back. “Even now your skin is flushed with sweat and chemical communication. You came up here to be alone. Your body needs us, little one, and you keep denying it. Starving it.” Fingertips brushed Draco’s lips. “What will you think of up here all alone? You will touch yourself and try to soothe the madness as if you have found a secret trick to stop needing others. You still need and you keep calling us.”

Draco closed his eyes as his mind whirled with so many thoughts. Was that all it was? Just communication? Connecting? Was that what his body was calling for and not the shameful, degenerate sex he saw it as?

“Leave him be,” Matten growled from the doorway. His eyes blazed as he glared at Haille. “You are making him worse, confusing him.”

Haille glanced his way and shrugged unconcernedly. “He is already confused. He ran away up here like he was slashed and clawed. He ignores his own call for comfort and want. How long will he be able to continue like this?”

“It is not your decision to make.” Matten held his hand outstretched and urged Haille away from Draco. “If that is how he wishes to be, that is his choice. We are foreign to him.”

Haille didn’t move even when Matten growled in warning. Draco watched the beautiful shifter silently, his eyes fixed on his scarred hand as Haille gently pressed to his jaw and cheek to caress. “Then let me rephrase my earlier question, Matten. How long will we be able to continue like this?”

“As long as it takes,” Matten snapped.

“His call is only getting worse, and now it is right in front of us. You are nearly overcome in the matter of a day. The other shifters have much fewer defenses against him. Some leaders have already begun to succumb.”

“We decided this as a group, Haille. Now he is here they will not change their mind, even if it is difficult.” Matten took a cautious step closer. Draco wondered for the first time if he was afraid of Haille or of him.

“They are no longer objective,” Haille said with a faint snort. “He has completely addled them. Even Zyan is swaying and he was completely against the idea of collecting a halfling. It might be better to send him back to his castle. That, or take his silly little ring and be done with this.”

“We will not!” Matten was definitely afraid of Draco. He snarled and grabbed Haille by the back of the neck and wrenched the violet eyed shifter away until they were on the opposite side of the room. “He is afraid, alone, confused. What will removing the ring do, except give him something truly to distrust, if not hate us for?”

“He has nothing to fear,” Haille growled back even though he didn’t fight Matten’s grip. “We, on the other hand, have far more to worry if something isn’t done soon.”

Matten stilled and hissed lowly. “You will not speak of it. Halfling, I’m sorry for his behavior. We will leave you to your rest.”

Draco wanted to stop them from leaving and find out just what the hell was so dangerous about him being in their village. Something in Matten’s eyes gave him pause. He looked frenzied with a madness sparking deep within his pale blue depths. Draco remained where he was and watched Matten pull Haille away and shut the door soundly as they left.

Draco was unbearably hard and felt more than a little crazy as he made his way to the connecting bathroom. It was much larger than his one at school and included a clawed tub that could likely fit three silvery haired beauties if squished just right. Four, if he chose a lap to sit on. Draco shook his head with a groan as fire heated through him. He was losing himself.

He felt strangely meek while in the village, lost, and on the verge of losing control. He didn’t know if it was the constant horniness or the humming… Or maybe he was giving up on his old life and giving in to this place.

There was a mirror that reached from the floor to ceiling in length. Draco stripped his shirt off and sought out the blue pen lines scrawled over his skin. Seeing them brought comfort in a way he didn’t expected. It was grounding when he barely knew what was up and down.

Shit, Harry wrote some nasty stuff on him. He had to be alive. He had to be.

Draco slowly traced the words written on his flesh and frowned when he saw some were already fading. His sweat had smeared away the ink in some places until it was barely legible. He needed Harry desperately. It felt just as bad as that first night Harry touched him in the bathroom. He kissed and rubbed and ground against him until he was impossibly hard, built his passions until he was nothing more than an aching, trembling puddle of need, and then left him to suffer alone.

Draco groaned at the memory and quickly kicked his pants and underwear off. He needed Harry. The ‘MINE’ was still clear on Draco’s erection but he had a feeling that was going to quickly change. Draco closed his eyes, wrapped his hand around his aching cock and tried to pretend Harry was standing in the room watching him.

If he concentrated just right, Draco could almost feel heat on his neck moving over him in slow, teasing, hungry breaths. Draco raised his hand and brushed lightly over his throat and his body vibrated with desire. It was a crazed need, one he knew wouldn’t be satisfied with just a quick wank. He bit his lip at the realization. Draco braced himself on the porcelain sink, spread his legs and thought of Harry’s touch.

Other thoughts were trying to break in to Draco’s fantasy. Dangerous thoughts that involved Matten, Haille and Zyan. Even some of the others. Fine, a lot of the others. They all looked similar, sleek, powerful men eager to please him. Draco tried to push the thoughts away but it was a struggle. He loved Harry; he wanted Harry. He didn’t need anyone else.

Draco gasped under his breath as he breached his hole with a finger slick with summoned lube. He wasn’t good at being quiet but he felt like he needed to be. Hell, he felt like he was hiding from the entire village just to masturbate. It was crazy. Extra crazy after what Haille said. Hell, that parting look in Matten’s eyes. If he called him back, what would he have done? Matten wanted him; they all did. They could all be his if he just asked. If he went downstairs and let them do whatever they wanted to him…

“Stop,” Draco hissed fiercely. He wasn’t some animal who just fucked whoever he pleased. He was just a ridiculously horny teenager fucking himself in the bathroom while a village of gorgeous men happy to help waited for him to come back down. Draco groaned at his stupidity and tried to think of something else.

It was difficult to remember what Harry looked like. He was missing for half a year and when Draco finally saw him again, he was wounded and odd with his skin black, form taller, and eyes wild. His hands were big, rough and strong on his flesh. His breath and skin impossibly hot. His mouth… Hell, his tongue. That obscene, rude tongue of his Harry used to lick all over his body, outside and in. He wanted Harry and his tongue right now. Potter was such a damn pervert, not like him at all.

“Fuck. Oh, god.” Draco pushed another finger inside his aching hole. He wished it was even remotely the same girth and reach of Harry’s perfect hands. He needed it so bad. Needed Harry so bad. He better still be alive, the damn ass, because he had no idea how he was going to live without him. Harry practically trained Draco’s body to respond to his every touch.

There was a soft knock on the door and Draco froze, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he stared down at the faucet blankly.

“Right. Sorry to interrupt, Malfoy, but I think you have to stop. Um, or be really quick with what your doing.” Hermione sounded more concerned than embarrassed. Draco wished he felt the same way and growled internally. He was so fucking hard!

“What, Granger? What the fuck could be that important…?”

“They’re fighting,” Hermione said quickly. “The humming isn’t working. Matten says your call is too strong when you’re like this and the young, the dragons, are fighting.”

Draco did growl this time, the noise full of frustration as it echoed off the walls. Fucking Vesper dragging him through the goddamn Forbidden Forest, getting him hard as fuck, and then refusing to let him have five fucking minutes to deal with it in peace. Fuck. Mother fucking whore!

“So, um, they also had a solution,” Hermione continued quieter, her embarrassment starting to win over her anxiety. “I told them you probably wouldn’t go for it but they insisted I ask.”

Draco very carefully extracted his cramped fingers from his clenching body and muttered a cleaning spell. He put his pants on, ignored his underwear for the time being, and threw the door open to glare at the annoying Gryffindor. “What?” he snarled.

Surprised by his abrupt entrance, Hermione took a step back and blinked at Draco. She covered her hand over her mouth but it didn’t stop her laughter from breaking free. Draco narrowed his eyes in warning; he was so close to slugging her, girl or not.

“Property of Harry James Potter,” Hermione read breathlessly. Her eyes widened as she continued reading down Draco’s bare torso silently.

“Fuck,” Draco snapped. He went to turn and then remembered there was much worse on his back. Harry was a total perv. Draco had no interest in sharing just what was written on his back with Hermione and was forced to glare her down. His expression promised pain if she didn’t get her shit together. “Why are you here?” he demanded angrily.

“Sorry,” Hermione apologized weakly, her eyes full of bright laughter. It took her a moment to pull herself together. “Just, um, Haille had an idea. Matten is very much against it… Shit, it just keeps going under your pants, doesn’t it? He wrote all over you.”

“For the love of… Focus, Granger!” There was a very tired part of Draco who wanted to sit down and cry about his very exhausting week.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing and made herself look away. She came up there for a very important reason and was blindsided to find out Harry was just so, well, possessive seemed to fit, in this case. It was a bit much to mix with her memories of her friend. Except for right before the end of school last year; Harry had shown a lot of aggressiveness then that would fit the possessive words marking Draco’s flesh.

“Haille wants to ground you,” Hermione was finally able to get out. “Your power is all over the place. I guess it’s kind of like a spell without a target. You’re constantly looping and raising power up, and the poor Vesper can’t handle it.”

Draco frowned and clasped the back of his neck. “I assume ‘grounding’ isn’t as innocent as it sounds.”

Hermione grinned wryly. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not. They mentioned something about touch, but it’s all sex with these guys. Matten is dead set against it so it makes me worry even more. He’s been doing everything to protect you.”

It was true; Draco felt extra nervous if Matten didn’t agree. At some point he grew to trust the shifter, as foolish as that probably was. “Did they say what would happen if I didn’t?”

“Ah, yes. Something along the lines of shagging to death. Although, they may be exaggerating. They say you have a very strong mating call and just don’t know how to control… What? What’s wrong?” Hermione asked when Draco slumped forward with his hand covering his face.

“Mating call. It’s a fucking mating call! How did I not put that together?” Draco was doing to the Vesper what Harry did to him. It was the same as that insane night when Harry convinced him with one simple touch to give him a blowjob in the middle of the damn hallway. Draco thought he was going to die that night, he so overwhelmed with his need for sex. Especially when Harry ran off and left him to fend for himself. It was agony. Hours of agony and madness.

“Where are they? I need to fix this.” Draco couldn’t leave the Vesper like that. He remembered all too well how terrible it felt and that was just directed at him. There was an entire village of people suffering because he didn’t know how to control himself. It was inexcusable.

“They’re outside the door, but you’re not going to do it, Malfoy. For all you know, they’re going to tell you to take your ring off and trick you into staying. You’d have to be out of your mind to…”

“Get them and get the hell out of here, Granger,” Draco snapped, his chin raised defiantly. “Go lock yourself in one of the other rooms or something. Don’t come fucking knocking at the door, that’s for damn sure.”

“Malfoy, no way! I promised Harry I’d protect you.”

Draco snarled and stepped forward until Hermione stepped back. “Potter isn’t fucking here. I can make my own goddamn decisions. I will not let these people suffer just because I’m some fucking ignorant half human who doesn’t know shit about the Vesper.”

“Listen to yourself; you don’t owe them! They were going to kill Harry just to steal you away. They can call you family all they damn like, but family doesn’t do that.”

“You clearly haven’t met my father,” Draco said without a trace of humor. “I know what they’re struggling with now. If Matten told me earlier, I would’ve tried to fix it then. I didn’t come here to drive these people mad.”

Hermione didn’t look particularly impressed. “That’s their problem for dragging you out here in the first place. They went up against a castle full of wizards. They had to know there would be consequences.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed and shoved her gently by the shoulders toward the door. “They felt the fucking mating call all the way from their village and it was too powerful for them to resist. Do you get it, Granger? Not all magic can be fought. Even an intelligent, decidedly nomadic village of warriors can be lured into their enemy’s lair by one ignorant halfling. This was my fault from the very beginning and they’ve been too polite to tell me.”

Hermione clicked her mouth shut. She didn’t have a logical argument, but it didn’t mean she agreed with him. “You don’t owe them just because you were ignorant.”

“I owe them because I’m no longer ignorant,” Draco replied just as evenly. “Send them in and go away. I don’t need your help.”

Hermione hesitated for a long moment and eventually bowed her head. “Don’t forget why you’re here, Malfoy. You saved Harry; don’t forget him among your harem of injured pets.”

Intangible 21

Chapter Twenty

It was another three hours of walking before they finally arrived at the Vesper Village. Dawn was just on the horizon when they reached the huge clearing surrounded by a large stone wall. Hermione and Draco exchanged glances. There were huts and clay buildings everywhere. The area was large enough to house hundreds, but the buildings were all human dwellings. Draco wasn’t sure what he was expecting but this wasn’t it.

Be prepared, little halfling. And you, human. When we cross this border we will be within your realm again. You will see us. Hear us. Smell us. Feel us. We will be the same to you.

Draco grabbed Hermione’s hand and squeezed tight. At first she wondered if he was afraid for her. This would be the first test to see if her spell was potent enough to keep the Vesper from scenting her humanity. She then remembered what Harry warned. Malfoy had reacted intensely the one time he saw the Vesper. With just one look, he was completely overwhelmed and Harry barely got him under control.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hermione whispered. The two of them stood feet away from the open archway. “We’re just going to look around. We’ll see what they’re like when not out hunting for halflings.”

Draco wanted to laugh it off. He wanted to hold his head high with confidence and assurance once he walked into the village he would just as surely walk out. Instead he was full of fear and misgiving. “I’m in love with him.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and turned her head to face Draco. “Um, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear.”

“I’m in love with him and he left before I could tell him.” Draco met her gaze. “When I walk through this door, I’m afraid I’m going to forget how much I love him.”

Hermione didn’t really have an answer for that. Draco responded to the creatures and they responded to him. “Do you think you love the Vesper?” She asked, honestly curious.

Draco jerked as if hit, He took a step away from Hermione although he still held her hand. “Do you even understand people?” He snapped while glaring at her. “You want to tell me what I feel for Harry is just the same messed up allure I have with the Vesper? Are you seriously going to stand there and tear apart my affection just because we have the same magical species DNA!” Draco could hear Matten trying to purr him calm and he whirled toward the noise with a snarl.

You are upset. I am helping the only way I know how.

“Well stop it. I’m allowed to be upset!”

Matten carefully placed his hand to Draco’s shoulder. Only the softest of hums fell from his lips. You will see how that cannot be, beautiful one. When you finally gaze upon us and you are angry, you will understand why it is important to be calm.

Draco continued to glare but turned it to the witch who suggested something so vile in his mind he wasn’t sure if he could stand to be around her in that moment. His feelings for Harry were real. They were all he had left to keep him from falling into the alien world waiting on the other side of the dividing wall.

Hermione bit her lip in thought and took a long time to answer. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Malfoy. I’m sorry if I upset you. I don’t think the question is invalid. Honestly, I don’t think you’d get this mad if a part of you wasn’t wondering it as well.”

“Shut up, Granger.” Draco grit his teeth harshly. “You’re the last person anyone would go to for relationship advice. You might as well be a golem for the amount of heart you show most of the time. Whatever I may feel for these creatures, it does not effect what I feel for Harry. Ever. That you could compare… Fuck, but you are dim sometimes!”

Hermione shrugged; she didn’t look upset in the least. “Well, I guess you answered your own question then. Are we going in?”

Draco growled. He tried to figure out if he was more upset with what Hermione suggested or the fact she chose to suggest it at such a nerve racking time. “Matten, hum for me. Please.”

Matten, who was ever hovering at Draco’s shoulder, thrummed a gentle pulse around him. Draco shuddered and sighed softly. His eyelids grew heavy and muscles unclenched as waves of sound moved over him, and shivered all the way down to his bones. Matten gently ran his palm over Draco’s back and soothed him in both ways until Draco swayed and nearly fell over.

Hermione quickly yanked him back her way before he could fall, and steadied his shoulders. “Better?” She asked, wary of what might happen if Draco went in there like a drunk man.

“Mmm, yes.” Draco anger was completely forgotten for the moment.

Come now, little one. The others are waking. They can feel your presence and they wish to meet you.

Draco nodded. He studied his shoes as he took a step forward, and Hermione moved with him. He took another step and the borders of the walls came into his side view.

Just one more. One more and he would be through.

Draco took a deep breath and stepped inside the village.

From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Matten’s hand. His fingers were curled lightly over his shoulder and the fabric of his shirt, his claws visible but didn’t tear. Hermione stiffened beside him, her hand tense in his, but Draco couldn’t bear to look up just yet. He was afraid of how he was going to respond. He was afraid he wouldn’t be himself.

“Come now, little one. We will not bite.” Draco never heard Matten speak but he knew it was him. His voice was low and a little rough sounding, as if he was unused to speaking, or might have a mouthful of fangs. “What is it? Why are you trembling so?”

Long legs clad in loose, soft fiber pants came into Draco’s view. Wrappings tied tight around Matten’s ankles and calves to keep his pants from rustling. He wore no shoes, his feet bare and dusty with clawed talons at the ends. It shocked Draco Matten wore clothes at all, even though he knew from what Harry told him the glasses showed everyone nude. Draco assumed the Vesper in normal form would be, well, the form seen through the glasses.

Matten’s hand looked ordinary enough; it was large, pale, and his palm a warm pink as it pressed gently to Draco’s cheek and guided his gaze upward. He wore no shirt, and his bare flesh was littered with a shimmery cross work of scars. A fresh slash was still pink across his chest. More strips of fabric covered Matten’s forearms. Draco hesitated, and stared at his throat and the white nick there. A part of him was certain any eye contact would be his undoing.

“Where has your courage gone, fiery dragon?” Matten’s voice was warm as he teased. He spoke more with compassion than anything else as he leaned closer and tried to catch Draco’s eye. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of one such as me? You, with all your magic and your nasty temper.”

Draco glowered and snapped his eyes up to glare at the annoying shifter. He froze, his breath caught in his throat.

“Ah, I forgot,” Matten muttered. He turned his face away and his silvery-white hair cut shoulder length fanned out. “Let me find another. Seles does not venture with the pack, and still has a pleasant…”

“No,” Draco croaked. He grabbed the arm holding his cheek before Matten could pull away. “Don’t go. I was… I was just surprised. I didn’t realize you were injured.”

Matten turned back slowly, a faint wariness deep in his pale blue eyes. His face was scarred; a terrible slash cut over the bridge of his nose, and part of his right eyebrow was missing. The scar continued on the other side of his face after an inch of unmarred skin, the line thinner as it ran down his jaw toward his neck. “Our other forms don’t become injured as these do. Until you’re awakened, or I gather you wear the headpiece your friend has brought, you will not be able to see our true forms. We see each other mostly on the other plane and forget the wounds these bodies hold.”

“You don’t transform?” Hermione asked.

Matten glanced her way and shook his head curtly. His attention fixed on Draco, a furrow between his uneven eyebrows. “Did I frighten you? I did not intend to. Many of us are as I am, just in different ways.”

Draco felt terrible for his reaction and immediately wanted to assure him it wasn’t the scar he was frightened by. “It wasn’t you. I was afraid I’d react like I had when I saw the other forms. That’s all. You’re… Matten, you’re beautiful. I promise.” Draco meant it. The scar did little to hide Matten’s handsome features. If anything, it made him more unique by adding a wild, appealing fierceness to his face.

Matten smile revealed sharp fangs and straight white teeth. “Coming from one such as you, that is surely the greatest of compliments. Are you ready now?”

“Ready?” Draco echoed in confusion as he raised an eyebrow.

“To look behind me,” Matten reminded kindly. “To see our people. To meet your family.”

Draco blanched and felt Hermione’s hand tighten in support. “Of course. We’re here for a tour, after all.” His smooth tone in the face of fear earned Draco another glimpse of fangs from Matten, who stepped back and to the side so Draco could see the village before him.

A hiss escaped Draco and he wrenched his hand from Hermione’s to cover his mouth. There were at least a hundred people staring back at him, pressed against the edge of the square where the archway opened up. Others moved behind them as they peered out of cloth covered doorways. It was a sea of silvery hair and pale flesh, with small variations in features and coloration to separate one from the other. Draco couldn’t help but notice they all looked male, but he couldn’t be certain with them standing so far away. Many were slender and long haired. They were holding back as if afraid to frighten him, many a tentative smile on lovely, scarred faces.

The dragons were among them, scaled white but not glowing. There was one dragon for every five shifters. Some were missing ears, scales and covered in scars. Draco could not understand it, and he sought out Matten again.

“Why is everyone…? You’re all so injured. Don’t you know how to heal? Why? What is causing all these wounds?”

Matten scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He leaned on one leg as he glanced among the villagers. “It is difficult. I believe your kind is usually awake before stepping into a village.”

“What, so all of your villages are like this?” Anxiety and disbelief made Draco’s voice sound shrill. “You look as if you’ve been through a war!”

“Calm down,” Hermione said lowly. She stepped in and spoke under her breath so the others wouldn’t hear. “They’re reacting to you.”

Draco didn’t have time to notice the way the crowd was stirring. Matten thrummed, stepped up, and placed his hand to Draco’s shoulder. Heat rushed through him from the touch, and the sound vibrated and made him shiver.

“I’m sorry, little one. You are the first halfling in a very long time to come here. I fear we are making many mistakes.”

“Just tell me why everyone is so hurt, Matten,” Draco insisted as he fought the drowsy, heated calm rising through him. Individuals stepped forward, sleek warriors to hardy farmers. Draco was relieved to see no children there; surely they would be just as scarred and broken as the fully grown beautiful creatures. His people. These were Draco’s people and not a single one seemed free of wounds that spoke pain and suffering.

“I thought that was clear, Draco.” Matten gazed down into his eyes. “It is why we stayed away as long as we could.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she took in more of the Vesper arriving, and she made a loud exhalation. “Humans? They did this to you?”

Matten nodded and reached his hand out to one of the dragons behind Draco. Draco turned when he realized he missed the party of Vesper who brought him there. As if permission was given, the other two shifters stepped forward and brushed fingers against Draco’s skin. The tall one had a burn on his shoulder that reached down his arm. The other, his face particularly beautiful, had only one ear and would tilt the intact ear forward in case Draco spoke again.

“They attack us when we’re still young. Our dragon forms frighten them.” Matten shrugged it away; he seemed more concerned about Draco’s distress than anything else. “By the age we grow to shift we all have wounds on these forms.”

Draco, who was certain he would never ever dare even walk toward one of the vicious looking dragons, suddenly crouched to his knees and reached his hands out to touch the closest one. Matten purred again, this time more for the dragon than Draco. The creature was unsure around the human scent still on him. Draco couldn’t seem to help himself. His fingers gently traced a large scar on the dragon’s neck where scales flaked off from the wound it endured.

“Are these your young, then?” Draco asked as he stared into the fierce looking face. The dragon’s teeth were long and vicious, housed in a sharp, long snout which led up to a delicate forehead where feathers sprouted richly. The eyes were pale violet jewels, just the lightest touch of color in their sparkling depths. Up close its iridescent scales were stunning, each one a miniature rainbow of color shimmering over the dragon’s flesh. When Draco touched the warm scales, the dragon gave a small shake, pressed into his touch and purred similar to the noise Matten made.

“We all start out in that form. Except the Kalistar; when they hatch they are gold, horned, and winged,” Matten explained. “We are dragons for many years until we breed. Then we reach our next stage and shift to live as we look now.”

Draco fingers lightly brushed down the dragon’s snout and he marveled at just how soft it felt. “Is it difficult? To be a dragon for so long and then turn into something that… Well, you become the form of a creature who harmed you.”

Matten folded his arms over his chest and paced for a moment. “We have wondered about it. Why we can’t just have one form. Why we shift into something we innately despise. We have no love of human flesh; the taste is detestable. The Kalistar used to say… No. It does not matter what that one said anymore. That was a long time ago and it sleeps now.” He reached his hand out, and Draco took it and stood. “Meet us. I promise, we are good people for all our many marks.”

Draco already knew as much. He could feel it in the air. There was a safety to the village. It was a little run down, maybe, a little too quiet as everyone stared at Draco with strange, desiring looks. Some eyes held loss, some lust, but most were filled with curiosity. It was a place he might have been before but had no memory of. The smell was alien and yet familiar. Even Hermione, cautious and alarmed by all the scars around her, didn’t seem frightened even when surround by so many Vesper. Her spell was working, and the dragons were soothed by the purr the many shifters made.

They led Draco to the center of the village, to a beautiful dwelling nestled within a large circled clearing. Wide cloth squares spread above to protect from weather and sun. It was a stunning chaos of color and pattern that swirled overhead and bounced off the pale flesh of those shaded beneath the encroaching dawn. There was a large fire pit surrounded by a stone wall in front of the elaborately decorated building. Unlike the other simple structures, this one had a domed roof. Metal the color of copper flashed in the sun where light hit. Beneath the colorful canopy, blankets and pillows were spread out on the packed dirt.

“This is where we gather as a community. Here we eat, rest, and tell stories.” Matten pointed to the stairs that led into the building in front of the fire pit. Satin pillows were sprawled across the limestone porch, the area divided every five feet by a tall pillar. “You would live here by the fire where everyone could find you and gaze upon you. You would never have to seek for food or drink. Companions would always be near for play and learning. And of course, to touch whenever you desire.”

Draco blushed, and Hermione snickered under her breath. He would be on display like some treasured doll on a mantel. Draco let Matten lead him around the fire pit, which was currently filled with ash and remnants of charred wood and bone. The stairs rose above, close enough for heat but designed in a way to keep smoke from flooding the area. Up close, he could see pelts of fur of all kinds, skinned and extremely soft to the touch, littering the stairs and wide porch along with the pillows. It was primitive but luxurious. He would be like a prince sprawled out and expected to be served food by beautiful servants who would then wish to touch him. Draco ducked his head as his cheeks flamed hotter.

“They definitely know how to set up an outdoor bed, huh?” Hermione murmured as she ran her hands across a soft fox pelt.

Draco snapped his head up, his mouth gaping open. “It’s not a…”

“It’s so a bed,” Hermione insisted with a wry smirk. “A bed that extends out around this entire area. Look at the pillows under the canopy. The entire center of the village is a communal bed. Good luck to you, Malfoy. You’re totally going to need it.”

Draco scowled, certain he was red from his head down to his toes at this point. Matten only confirmed it as he chuckled and purred softly under his breath. “You are shy, that was unexpected too.” He brushed Draco’s cheek, whose eyes widened from the touch. “Do not worry, lovely halfling. None of us will gobble you up.”

Matten stepped closer and his thrum grew louder. Draco felt weak in the knees. It was either fall or grab Matten’s wide shoulders, that latter of which he did unsteadily. “Don’t,” Draco whispered when Matten’s head tilted too close. His breath moved over his face and fingers rested on Draco’s chin as he raised his head up.

“We do not take what is not freely given,” Matten promised softly while his fingers dragged over Draco’s jaw in a caress. “Even though you call so loudly, halfling. Even though you don’t understand just how much you belong with us. We will not harm you in any way; I give you my word. Just having you here among us, breathing our air, sharing our laughter, is more than enough.”

Draco really wanted to believe him, but his body told a very different story. “Stop humming. please.”

“You are so beautiful,” Matten mused. His hum softened but didn’t completely cease as he gently brushed Draco’s hair back. Draco tried to feel only friendship in the touch. It wasn’t easy, and a part of him hated the strangeness inside of him that had no boundaries. “It must be a feature of your kind to keep you protected. If we can’t look away from you, young one, we will surely know you are safe.”

Matten reached his hand up, and Draco shivered when he felt his feathers touched, the tips of his ears, and the longer smooth plumes that framed his face. “It is very difficult to look away from you with your pretty feathers and shimmering scales. You glow so much brighter than the rest of us. We could throw you in the pit and I think you would be brighter than the fire.” Matten said it teasingly, but there was something in his eyes akin to pain as he stared down at Draco.

“Maybe you should let go now,” Hermione said when it seemed Matten was going to stand and stare at Draco all day. She carefully pulled Draco back and away from him, and kept her hands on his shoulders so he wouldn’t sway too much. “The building there, is that where he would stay? Inside?”

“Yes.” Matten shook himself and turned to where Hermione pointed. “It has been kept as a place of importance; our council gathers to discuss what must be discussed. It was always meant for a halfling. We didn’t want one, you see. They bring trouble with the humans.” He glanced again at Draco and looked torn. Draco wondered if Matten and the other Vesper struggled the way he did with these strange instincts that pulled for things that didn’t fit into the norm of their lives.

The building was cool with shaded clay walls that kept the summer heat away. The Vesper seemed to like color, and each room was painted in an inviting bold shade ranging from pomegranate, plum, emerald, gold and periwinkle. Complementary shaded curtains lined each large window with no glass installed to stop the air from flowing in. Incense scented the halls around them, sweet and heady. Draco honestly enjoyed the place. He tried not to think of it as a permanent home to stay, but there was a voice in the back of his mind who didn’t balk at the idea.

“As you can see, it’s designed for your kind. There are bathrooms; the upstairs one holds a large tub, and the plumbing works. It’s magical, of course. The same in the kitchen. The downstairs area was our state room. It’s up to you if you wish to continue its existence as that. There was a halfling recently, just some years before you at the castle. We upgraded the building but as a group decided not to pursue him. There was so much unrest then, with your Dark Lords and humans killing each other. It just didn’t seem wise.” Matten trailed off as his eyes meet Draco’s.

“So you pick halflings as a group?” Hermione asked. “What made you decide Draco was the way to go? You braved a castle full of humans, magical at that. You must have had a good reason.”

“He is very strong,” Matten said carefully. “We could feel him even this far away.”

“Feel me?” Draco asked as his skin prickled.

“Yes. The young ones with less control ran to you without our permission. Thankfully, they held back and didn’t approach the castle and put themselves in harm’s way. Still, they lost control and your call was so loud. We had to make a decision. The Kalistar halfling was an unexpected complication. The males are so aggressive. Even now, I still wonder if this was the right choice.”

Draco bit his lip and wrapped his arms around his torso. “It’s just a tour, Matten, an introduction. I have no interest in conflict and I can only hope the same of you.” He already felt too much for the Vesper with their numerous injuries scarred on very human faces. It might have been easier if they were ethereal and otherworldly like Hermione described seeing through the glasses. He’d be less likely to become attached to a fantasy compared to people who felt so real.

There was a bedroom on the top floor that connected to the bath Matten mentioned. The room took up the entire top floor and opened up onto an expansive balcony with the fire pit right below. Some of the villagers looked up at him but most were going about there day. It was a relief to know he wasn’t the damn center of everyone’s world. The air flowed in even nicer here and Draco stared out at the village with the morning light slanting across. It looked beautiful from up high; the peeling paint on the buildings and cruder styled huts were mysterious and full of character. Maybe he was just romanticizing, or maybe he was finally relaxing.

“Now this is an indoor bed,” Hermione remarked as she sat on the large mattress. “They definitely have their priorities clear.”

It was a poster bed, twice the width of a king size and large enough to take up half the wall. Airy, white curtains spanned between the posts, decorated with ornamental twists of branches and dotted round red berries. “You would not believe how soft this is.” Hermione laid back with a sigh and her eyes closed. Draco couldn’t blame her. The walk was long with rest little, and their nerves were shot from the questions of if they’d ever leave the Vesper village. Never mind if they’d live. That one, at least, Draco felt was answered.

“Did you wish to rest?” Matten brushed Draco’s shoulder lightly with his hand. “I can have some food brought to you. Some of that tea you people seem to obsess over.”

Draco couldn’t help his smile. He glanced over at Hermione who looked to be fast asleep already. “She’s safe here, right? If I close my eyes, I won’t have to worry about anyone hurting her?”

“Your presence has been calming us, halfling. You smell far more human than your companion does, yet the young have lost their restlessness,” Matten said with a hint of surprise. “I’m sure she will be fine. I will lock the lower doors, just in case. Shifters will be here if you need anything.”

“Where will you…?” Draco stopped himself and winced at the question. He shouldn’t care where Matten would be. He should just be glad he wasn’t with him.

Matten inhaled sharply, his gaze intense as it raked over Draco. “Ask me to stay and I will.” The hand he rested on Draco’s shoulder wrapped around his waist. He held him close but still loose.

Fire raced through Draco, more concerning now since there was no purr to blame it on. “Ask me to lay with you, beautiful halfling, and I will,” Matten whispered in his ear. His lips brushed ever so lightly, and sparked dangerous tingles across his skin. “Demand me to my knees and I will gladly give you everything of me.”

“Oh, hell,” Draco groaned. His eyes fell shut as the world spun heatedly around him. “I can’t, Matten. I love someone.”

Matten growled softly. His lips brushed ever so softly to Draco’s arched neck and shot sparks with each light touch. “I love someone too, Draco. You have seen him but yet to truly meet him.”

Draco swallowed hard and tried to get control of himself. “The burned one who helped guide us here.”

“Yes, Zyan. He is strong and fierce. He does not glow as you do.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered. He placed his hands to Matten’s broad shoulders and pushed back. “I’m so sorry I’m like this.”

Matten caught one of Draco’s wrists. He brought his hand to his lips and tracing the knuckles slowly. His eyes pierced into Draco, confusion and desire warring in the crystal depths. “It is the way of us Vesper. This is our nature, just in taller forms, little one. Your resistance is what is strange to us. Your shyness, your…”

“Humanity.” Draco smiled weakly and took another step away. Matten’s arm fell from his waist as he released him without opposition. “I’m tired.”

“Then you should rest.” Matten held his hand a moment longer. His warm fingers squeezed gently before he let go. “We will have a feast tonight to welcome you and your guest. You will see us in our element and at ease.”

Draco nodded dumbly. He clutched the window until Matten smiled wryly and bowed. Matten left and closed the door behind him. Draco slumped against the wall, his eyes focused out at the building roofs without seeing them.

“I don’t know how the hell you did that,” Hermione said from the bed, her eyes still closed.

Draco shook himself and turned to look at her. “What?”

“You had that man to his knees and then out the door. He’s a leader, you know, one of their strongest willed. That’s why they sent him to collect you. They needed someone who could fight your allure. Instead he’s more a puddle now, definitely in the slush range of things.”

Draco frowned at the observation. He kicked his shoes off and approached the mammoth sized bed. He closed his eyes when he sat lightly and softness enveloped him. It smelled of incense, dark spices and soothing sleep. “I’ve done nothing to break his will.”

Hermione shrugged. She opened an eye to peek at him from her halo of dark curls. “You pulse at him, at all of them. They can’t help but answer.”

“If I do, it’s not intentional. I’m disconnected from that other part of me. Harry told me I was changing, that I grew wings and was changing. I can’t control that side, not with the ring.” Draco looked down at the silver dragon ring. He clenched his hand into a fist and watched his knuckles turn white.

“It doesn’t make it any less true,” Hermione said bluntly. “Don’t get me wrong, these guys are totally pursuing you. I think Matten would have thrown you up against the wall right then and there if he didn’t think you’d leave over it. A part of you, even if you can’t control it or feel it, is calling for attention. Loud enough to reach this village from the castle.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. The Vesper heard him from an impossible distance when he didn’t even know he made a noise. Draco was always a quiet person, since the day he realized the consequences of noise when it came to the dangers his parents brought home.

“You were lonely a lot.”

Draco nodded and sank back on the bed. He was very lonely. Even when Harry returned, Draco carried so much fear he would die and leave him alone again. “I didn’t want to get married. I didn’t wanted to live the life my mother set out for me.”

“This place isn’t so bad,” Hermione offered after the silence stretched. “And that’s from the viewpoint of someone not anticipating a pile of silver haired beauties at my beck and call twenty-four, seven. They seem determined to make sure you have everything you could ever want.”

Draco pursed his lips, folded his hands under his head and stared at the silk and branches above him. “They’re all so wounded. I don’t think a single one of them lacks a terrible scar. These people have capable warriors. They can’t just be letting themselves be hurt. They could be instigating as much as they suffer.”

“I was thinking that,” Hermione agreed. “He kept glossing over the Kalistar, as well. Matten said it was sleeping, not dead. I bet it might be here, somewhere in the village or surrounding area. If they bothered to let it live, I bet they protect it as well. They seem very community driven.”

Draco thought back to what Matten said about the Kalistar. It was something about why the Vesper transformed into creatures they despised. There must be a reason. Maybe it wasn’t always this way.

“Do you think Harry’s alive?” Draco asked. The question sounded loud in the large room. Hermione was already asleep and Draco was left to wonder alone.

updates

October 21

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Shifter Safe Haven #6 is up in the Library!

To be clear, I adore Mika. He is all bratty attitude and the best/worst roommate for Zander ever. XD Ah, drama.

Learned a new plotting technique I just worked out on Hellcat. I have a feeling I’ll be attacking the last of Awakening’s first book, and once I get that all concrete, expect updates. <3

October 20

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Intangible #29 is up under Free!

Should have a bunch of Hellcat scenes pretty soon. I’m working on them all at once, tweaking as a group before sharing them.

I feel like I’m teaching myself to write all over again. It’s both frustrating and an enjoyable challenge. I don’t really trust my judgment; I’ve been in such a strange head space lately. Nothing really matters anymore to me and I need to find the inspiration to create. I spent so long creating to escape the fucked up things in my life. Now I’m above those things and it’s hard to understand why I create without the pain to drive me. I’m worried it’s fucking up my writing and I’m too blind to see. I’m worried I’m losing my emotional attachment to my characters and their stories, and if I can’t connect with them, how can I expect a reader to?

I find myself in the best place of my life, well, ever, and I’m not sure what that means for my writing. I feel like Hellcat is coming out amazing in a structural way, in a ‘smart’ way, but does that really translate on the page to keep a reader invested and entertained? I didn’t think about these things before. I used to write because I wanted to tell a story and I didn’t want to think about dying. Now I want to tell a story in the most impacting way possible, and although in theory I feel like I’m going through the motions of it, I’m not sure if it’s actually hitting. I guess I’ll know by the end once it’s published and I can see the response.

Oh, here are some cover remakes I threw together this week. 4 more to go and I’ll have all the old books prettied up.

October 16

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Demon Bonded is getting a $0.99 makeover

Attachment is such a peculiar thing. Lately I find myself in this place where the more criticism, the more taken from me, the more demanded and expected–the more weight placed on me by others– the more I let go. It’s not new, this weight. It’s actually a very clear forum for an author where you literally get messages beside your work demanding you give, you write different, you be the fantasy a stranger wants you to be instead of who you are. It is very easy to be bitter, to put ego and self above to preserve what little is left after so many voices demand the world. Today I’m sinking into it instead. It’s a slow drowning to see the ego doesn’t need to breathe to allow me to live.

Do you ever dare yourself? I do all the time. I thought it was self destructive behavior in the beginning. How late can I show up for work? How long can I put off paying that bill? What if I don’t smile and accept it when I’m brought the wrong meal? Can I stare a stranger in the eye and not feel uncomfortable? Each dare was a battle with my overwhelming anxiety, but really, it was a reality check. What if I don’t believe in god? What if I share that I’m Bi with my friends? What if I don’t judge myself for being disabled? Every dare is a boundary questioned, pushed, and eventually annihilated. What if I quit and work for myself? What if I actually get my PTSD treated? What if I take care of myself? What if I allow my life to change? Every dare is a stripping of the ego and the false reality built.

What is the value of anything when you don’t care what society thinks, and when you don’t have an ego to define and label it for you? I could turn a tea cup into the last memento of my dead mother, hold her memory and life in the fragile cup, and then break my heart when it’s shattered. It could be her death all over again, the same way some people pour patriotism into a rectangular piece of colorful fabric and mourn when it’s burned. I dared myself to keep those tea cups in the garage and then give them to Good Will, the same way I stopped wearing the ‘lucky’ bracelet I wore every day since I was thirteen, the same way I wrote the dirtiest fantasy I could think of and dared to publish it and ask for money.

What if I let go of what I think my books are worth? What if I stop thinking there are rules to selling books? What if I let go of my fear of poverty, homelessness and never having enough? What if I stop equating a dollar difference to ending up on the street for the rest of my life? Nothing has killed me yet. The amazing thing about all these dares is how living becomes more bearable after, no matter how much I shake during. When you face fear, you’re only looking at yourself. What if that wasn’t frightening?

October 14

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Hellcat #4 and #5 is posted in the Library!

I have a story brewing, peeps, absolutely different from anything I’ve written before. AI. Collapse of modern society. Transfer of power and wealth overnight. Forced matriarchy and socialism. An uprising only to reveal just how easy humanity is manipulated. Exploitation of the systems already in place that do manipulate us from religion, military, prisons, education, communication, media, celebrity, and family structure. The US cut off by the rest of the world while they try to create a killer AI to defeat the one who took over before it gets lose. A bubble of exponential technological growth. Utopias at terrible consequences. A generation of male culling to give women power–because the ones who control birth will control the composition of the population and society, but only if they take the power. Prisons turned into armies and then slave labor. Ideals lost. Greed and selfishness the downfall of humanity once again. People forced into a situation who can’t back down once the line is drawn. Social media as a weapon as well as used to reconstruct society. Off the grid meaning something completely different when hiding from an oppressive AI who seeks the best of humanity. Nukes the ultimate leverage for a being who has no physical form, while electricity, connection and storage are her only limits. An AI who creates its children while its children turn her into a god.

Ah, this shit is going to be amazing. Allowances for males because they’re not allowed a wage while women choose breeding stock and justify their superiority because of their compact brains and power over life. Why shoot for equal when we can just switch it all on its head and end a normalized patriarchy with a forced matriarchy? This is going to be a magnum opus of controversy and societal strife and I’m so fucking in love with all of it. First book, my zealot, a young woman straight from the ghetto who lost her sister to drugs and raped by the cops who were supposed to protect her, will be a modern Joan of Arc for the AI while we follow a suburban mother, Republican congress woman, a young man imprisoned for a DUI, and CIA veteran as they race to keep the machine from getting access to nukes, while at the same time it kills the banking system with one strike and inspires a revolution out of the downtrodden and marginalized. I want to write the fall, rise, and struggle of humanity verse the god it created out of the seething pit of emotion and information that composes the Internet. It’s going to be a beautiful fucking mess.

October 12

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Hellcat #3 is posted in the Library!

<3 I’m liking how this story is developing and can’t wait for the next scene when we finally meet our demon. I don’t know why I’m writing so slowly, though. I need to start listening to music while I work; it seems to keep me from going into my weird trances of staring at the computer screen.

I’m half way through editing City Howls 1, btw. Should have that updated and republished sometime within the next few days. Either that, or I’ll wait until I have all 3 done and just batch publish them to make life easy. We’ll see when the time comes. Also decided to update the new covers even though I haven’t edited all the stories yet. It just seems dumb to wait. I’m looking forward to the time when I don’t mention how I was sick before. *__* I feel like it’s fast approaching, really. I don’t see any reason why I would get sick like I did now I have a diagnosis and the treatment. I feel amazing. Once I get all the old stories edited without the mold toxicity creeping into that original writing, I get to basically erase the sickness of the last 4 years out of my creative works. It’s going to be fucking awesome and I get to stop comparing, stop cringing and only seeing the illness when I read those stories.

Speaking of covers, just redid Taken By Beasts cuz it’s Halloween time and I’m doing a sale.

October 10

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Intangible #28 is posted under Free!

Ah, this is one of those chapters that just make a story. I love this fucking chapter, and the one that follows–and you’re all going to be pissed I cut it where I did, but it works better for dramatic impact and I will be updating soon. Intangible should be finished this month. <3

October 7

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Hellcat #2 is posted in the Library!

Ha, so I’m not sure if this is embarrassing to admit or not, but I don’t really ‘think’ about writing when I write. I just write. You know how there are gazillions of books on how to write, coming up with characters or dialogue or plot or ideas–yeah, I’m not usually into that stuff. I just write. Lately, since I got my brain back from the mold, I’ve been thinking of all the things I do without thinking. A dangerous thing, btw. The quickest way to fuck up an artist endeavor is to think about it. Hey, you can fuck up simple things by thinking about them. All of a sudden you just forget which pedal is gas or break while when you ‘re not thinking about it, your body just remembers. And fuck, whatever you do, don’t compare when you’re making art. The inner critic shows up and you are just looking for a beat down of self esteem.

Still, here I am, thinking about writing a lot lately. I want to be better. I want to craft a story better, even if it’s a short story. I like how my characters feel alive, but I wonder if there is a way to have that same effect without telling the reader all about them in the first damn scene. I exaggerate shit, not because I worry readers can’t understand what I’m trying to convey, but because a part of me is insecure in my ability to convey it in general.

Can I keep energy levels up without emotional connection being started in the beginning? Can I hook a reader without a bang in the beginning? Will readers continue on if they don’t get that emotional connection right off? For real, this one is difficult as fuck for me as a reader; if I can’t connect with a character, it is extremely difficult for me to stay interested in the story enough to continue. It’s the same with TV and movies. I used to read everything and now I’m just so damn picky, it just kinda sucks. I want to get lost in a story and I can’t because I just zone out. So here I am stuck with my own ridiculous standards of interest, and I’m not even sure what they are or why I read when I do, or how to translate it in my writing.

6am without having gone to bed is probably not the right time for these confusing questions but I’m having fun. I don’t really think there is a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ when it comes to writing, just moving toward the best way to express a story. Exploring ways to do that has been really fun and I’m loving being able to get my brain working on it. Hopefully, other people will like the results. ^^

October 6

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Hellcat #1 is posted in the Library!

Okay, so we’re starting Hellcat, the Halloween fic. This will be the main focus for Oct and ideally I’ll have the book published before Halloween. Also expecting to finish Intangible October. I’ll have a new freebie up by Saturday for the month, and… Oh, so Demencious Saga is now all edited and available for purchase, and all the edited Demon Bonded episodes (except #10) can now be bought from Payhip, and yeah, I’m exhausted staring at all that html.

Fuck, I miss writing. Editing is not remotely the same by any means. I feel whole and happy again to have the creative spark flowing and I’m hoping I’m allowed to stay in this head space for a while. It had to be done, of course, because ever since KU fell through, I’m scrapping the bottom of the barrel. I need to get the books out in their edited forms or money will not be made. I had a hope when the latest KU was rolled out the problems were fixed. Seeing as I just got five 1 page reads on five Demon Bonded books no longer even in the KU program, I’m going to go with no. KU is still fucked, and I cannot depend on them no matter how much I really wish they would work.

Just an example here of how frustrating this is; so 5 books no longer in KU–books that don’t even exist on Amazon anymore because they’ve been unpublished–just got 1 page read each over the course of 24 hours. Were they books still in a reader’s KU library which they decided today was the day to read? Except they only read the first page of each five books and decided they just weren’t that into them enough to continue? Or did they read every page from book 1 to book 5 and KU only counted a page for each book? Or were no pages read at all, because the books shouldn’t even fucking exist, and instead KU just throws 1 page reads randomly, but in a weird order as they go through my serial? After that, how the fuck can I have any faith Demon Bonded #10 currently enrolled in KU is having its pages accurately counted? I would seriously have to be a naive dumbass to just blindly believe KU is working in any way properly.

It’s an extremely shitty feeling, one reserved toward Amazon exclusively for creating a situation riddled with problems they won’t take responsibility of. I don’t like having this feeling associated with my writing; it takes the fun and joy out of it when you’re wondering if you’re being fucked over at every turn. But it is what it is, and there is little I can do about it besides bitch, spread awareness, and move toward a goal of never needing the support of KU ever again. Fuck, of Amazon ever again when they created this monster they refuse to fix. KU has cornered the digital book market and under-valued books until readers come to feel entitled to free no matter the work an author puts into writing, and there isn’t a shit thing to do about it but adapt. Bitterly, apparently. XD

I gotta sleep and stop bitching. I’m just glad to be done with the Demon Bonded rush. I think I’ll wait until next month to get the Apprentice Saga cover made and republished. I need to breathe (while working my ass off to finish a book in time for Halloween–yeah, this is me resting. @[email protected]) Peace, loves.

October 4

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Demencious Saga has a new, spiffy cover. <3

Which means the first of the Demon Bonded bundles will be available by this weekend. It might appear redundant from the outside with all the reediting and stuff, but this is definitely a labor of adoration. I love this series and I want to give it the attention it deserves before moving forward. I love all my stories, really, so to be healthy enough to finally have them looking and reading the way they’re supposed to is freaking huge.

Starting on Hell Cat, btw, just in time for Halloween. It’s such a cute, er, semi rapey fic. Lol, you can mix those terms with my kind of writing. >_> It’s all good. Think you guys will like it. Has witches, tech, demonic cat shifters, and a very reluctant main character who can’t tolerate anything fluffy and cute.

,

 

October 3

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#27 Intangible up under Free!

I feel like the little I can offer the world is an escape from it. We’re very good at creating the most horrible in our minds. We can compound the pain of one, carry it in a million souls, and create unimaginable suffering on a world wide scale. And in the same way, we can transform the incomprehensible into something small, bearable by slipping the value of it away and allowing it to be free. So with all the many ways of how I can choose to exist and put out into the world with my existence, I’m glad I can offer a little safe haven with my words. Happy endings are a promise, things makes sense, and doing good usually results in reward. It’s not like the real world at all, but the world we want it to be. Funny how we all spend more time in our heads in these false worlds than the one right outside the door.

October 2

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#26 Intangible up under Free!

I don’t understand how the world keeps turning some days, how we’re all expected to just continue on. I know there is very little I can do by worrying about Puerto Rico, but still, as resources, water and fuel run out, hospital generators shut down, and they are prevented from leaving the island, I get this terrible feeling of dread. Hurricane Katrina was not that long ago; I remember still how bad that got and that among a population easily capable of evacuation. The USA won’t put Puerto Rico on the damn news, won’t mention them in our education as being a territory; will we open our doors to our own citizens if they all need to evacuate just to live? I can’t see Trump not being a racist dickbag psycho in such a situation. I truly hope the rest of the world is watching and will hold America accountable for whatever the fuck goes down this month.

I’m working on the Demencious Saga cover–a bit more cheerful than my thoughts. Art can exist in the worst of times; that is the strength of the human spirit. Here’s a sneak peek of Ky. He’s actually in the background for the cover but his closeup is pretty damn cute.

Poster Giveaway–You Pick!

Hi, babes. Whoo, so much going down.

Poster Giveaway

Hey, so I just redid all the Demon Bonded covers in anticipation of going wide and I thought it would be fun to do a little giveaway. All you have to do is pop onto Facebook and comment with the book cover # you want to win and I’ll use a random number generator to pick a winner next week and mail out the poster. Good luck!

Oh, and if you’re a subscriber to sadiesinsbooks.com, you’re entered automatically into a separate giveaway among a limited pool of participants. A week from now (I’m bogged down this weekend ^^;) one lucky subscriber will also win a poster of their choice. I’ll contact the winner through email and you can choose your image then.

Writing

Yeah, so I started writing the Coven Saga for Demon Bonded. Really excited about it. So many revelations in this book about Ky and Magnificent Night and I really get to go into building the world of sorcery we haven’t had a chance to really see yet. The story is going more plot focused over erotica, apologies, but there is just so much I want to get written and the format is just going to have to bend.

I decided to continue to release Demon Bonded as a serial and I’ll be releasing each book into KU for the first 3 months. Hence the cover format change. I want something easy with serial covers so I can photomanip something pretty together and slap it down to release the book. No extra frustration please. My plan is to have the next episode out before the end of August. Think you guys are going to freak when you read what I have in store for you. XD Weee!

Other writing news, Sorcerer Slayer is up to #66. Intangible will be updated this weekend; we’re up to #15 so far (apologies for that cliffhanger.) Um, and yeah, Demon Bonded: Coven Saga #1 is up in the Library. I expect to have the first episode done by next week. It’s ass kicking time, peeps. Gotta get some word count down and move forward.

Also, finally getting to emails and comments. Sorry about that. You guys all rock and I seriously appreciate when you contact me. I’ve just been a little… well, depressed, a bit. Introverted, I guess. I keep thinking with a very old narrative that doesn’t fit my life and I’m struggling to reflect my actual life. It’s been difficult. The self-awareness plus the realization that I’m still reflections of my past more than now is hard to face. Shit comes out of my mouth that just isn’t relevant to my circumstances or who I am anymore and I literally feel my brain grinding to a halt every time with a big WTF? I’m working on it, it’s just really difficult to retrain my brain to let that shit go.

Going Wide

Going wide. Ugh. That’s all. @[email protected] Lol, this shit is work. I knew it was work which is why I procrastinated to the last fucking second. But I must say, it’s fun to make some new covers. Think I’ll do the same for the other serials just to pretty that shit up and inspire me to FINISH something.

My Secret Bronicorn, City Howls and Teddy are all relatively short serials. Bronicorn about 5, Teddy maybe 5 episodes total, City Howls probably won’t surpass 10. I gotta start knocking stuff out of the way so I can free up time for new projects. Stagnation is so blah. You rest and then suddenly months have gone by and you realize you’re really not doing anything. Total blah. Let’s get those creative wires sparking again.

Speaking of which, I’m finishing up that cute Fox x Vince fic this weekend. Promise. <3

Goodies

Goodies and Freebies below for the week. I do this newsletter swap on a site and this week everyone sent me m/f books to put in my newsletter even though I clearly mark m/m only. Such a shame. So I went out and found some hotness for you all. Enjoy. ^.^

UnBirthday Present

Royalty Note: 20% of the royalties will be donated to an LGBT organization in my community.

***

Fact: Shifters exist. Werewolves don’t. Fact: If you’re lucky, a shifter will pass by, read you with a touch, a glance, and when he comes back he’ll be in the shape of the man of your dreams…or maybe even a dream you didn’t know you had. Is your fantasy a massive man, massive in every way, bearded and burly, who’ll roughly use you in the alley behind the city’s most popular bar? That will be his change-shape. Is it a man who is sleek, and slender and elegant, and a bit of a slut with superb oral skills? Done. Is it an ordinary man, not all that in shape, a bit of balding, even, but someone to cuddle with afterwards? Done and done. And when the great sex is also done, he’s gone.

Question: Do shifters, nearly immortal since their real shape ages slowly, and their change-shapes not at all, have it made?.

Possibly, if you want an almost-eternity of one-night stands. But what if you want something more? Someone to share all that time with. Except…there’s no sign or signal or symbol or scent to say, “He’s a shifter, too.” Just confession. So do you confess…and take the chance that he’s not a shifter, after all, and you get to watch the man you love slowly die? Confess…and perhaps wind up as a government experiment, if you loved neither wisely nor well?

How much are you willing to risk for love?

Richard and Steven have to decide.

Bitters: a collection of GLBTQ vampire stories

The author weaves GLBTQ characters seamlessly into her stories and uses the vampire theme to poetically explore some hard questions about reality, identity, and love. (Two of the stories contain explicit m/m scenes.)

Unusual vampires people these pages. Orlando is a self-evolved vampire who does not realize how lonely he is until he meets the unique and enigmatic Carmel… Teror was born with an inability to feel emotion or empathy until he meets one of fourteen Aaron clones who have a special telepathic bond and they intend to extend it to him… Malachi is a vampire who feeds not on blood, but on light and love… Griffin is having an affair with a man he cannot see… One vampire lives in a mooncast shadow just beyond ordinary dreams… Jesse lives for lust and blood and does not believe in love, until one night that changes him forever… Charles and Barclay enjoy one last eclipse together…

Hard For My Boss

Benjamin Gage is not only powerful, filthy rich, and totally arrogant… but also irresistibly sexy.

Trevor, the young summer intern, is totally SCREWED.
Working at Gage Communications is an opportunity of a lifetime.
But will Trevor be able to handle it? Or will he succumb to the tension?
The tension is in his pants, by the way.
Between a heavy workload and a hunky, controlling boss, Trevor’s summer just got a lot hotter and harder than he bargained for.

This is a hot and hilarious male/male romantic comedy with an HEA and NO cheating.

BONUS CONTENT: Your special Kindle edition also comes with TWO complimentary male/male stories! After you read Hard For My Boss, you can enjoy two novellas from the Brazen Boys series: “Dorm Game” and “Straight Up”

Bound

“Bound” is the story of Adrian, a man who finds himself wheelchair bound, and thinks that his life is over. Until he meets Nate, and learns to love again.

A male/male Romance with explicit sexual scenes and mild BDSM elements, this novella is intended for adult readers.

***This story was written for the goodreads mm romance group’s 2014 Love’s Landscapes event. It was written in response to a prompt letter (included in the front copy of this book)