Search Results for: "sorcery"

?A Demon Bonded Calendar??

Hey babes,

Hey, have you ordered your Demon Bonded Calendar yet? What, you didn’t know it existed?!??? No, you’re not out of the loop. I’m just the kind of asshole who decides in the middle of January to make a calendar. Sorry. =_= But if you want to snag one of these beauties, signed by me, you can.

If you’re one of my Patreon supporters, you can get the calendar discounted. Just include the coupon I sent out to your Patreon email accounts this week at checkout (as in, you have to add to cart, you can’t hit the paypal button cuz there is no place for the coupon by that point.)

I’m looking into starting some merchandise. Mostly limited edition things since I don’t have the funds to do giant orders or anything. I’m looking at t shirt designs next. *eyebrow waggle* Not sure if anyone will be interested in something like a Demon Arms t shirt…

Anywho

I want to give a shout out to Louise and her very first book, The Wild Ones! It’s MM with shifters, sorcery, and sexiness. If you pick up this brand new read, would you mind taking the time to review as well? Louise is totally new to all this. Reviews are so important, and she would really appreciate the help and feedback.

The Wild Ones

Louis Blackwood has been hiding his true nature all his life, lying to everyone and never daring to trust even those closest to him. When Louis is forced to use the powers he has always kept a secret to save his life, he’s led to prison without any chance of ever seeing daylight again. Until SINS shows up—the Supernatural Institute of National Security.

Lucas Lopes is the most popular professor at New York Supernatural University. Charismatic and honest, he’s renowned for his impressive control of his tiger form and impeccable good looks. Lucas is completely aware of the way he affects people with his charms and beauty, but it isn’t until Louis comes along that his smug arrogance grows to be a problem…

 

A New Year’s Revolution Announcement *cough* Of Sorts

In some ways nothing is changing, but in others, it’s going to be this huge freaking change. At the moment it’s only a goal, one that I am not rushing toward but instead staring at warily and planning how I’m going to reach it without ending up bruised, broken, and broke. XD But it’s a goal I want, big time. It’s one that aligns with who I’m becoming as a person as I heal and start seeing a future. This shit is going to happen, even if it’s not overnight.

So, what is it? I want to expand the website and hire content writers. It’ll still be my stories, but multiple ones written faster and updated consistently throughout the week. Basically, I want writing help to get my stories produced faster. Not for the end rush of publishing, but to reward readers immediately on the website. You know, like a business. @_@ One that sustains itself by telling sexy, entertaining MM stories to readers. Something that doesn’t have to fear the rampant censorship of the big platforms like Amazon and can have a safe place to exist and grow.

Yeah, huge, and yet the same

I was having a conversation with the love of my life a couple weeks back. He asked me since I was feeling better, when was I going to do something with my business idea for M/F erotica. And in that moment I realized, I’m not. I enjoyed coming up with the idea during a business course and it would certainly make money, but I’m just not passionate about it. And if I’m not passionate about something, I won’t see my way through all the damn work to get to the end. So his response was, naturally, why not do it with the Sadie Sins stuff, then? That’s something you’re passionate about.

Well… Why not?

There are actually a lot of reasons. >_> Let’s not pretend, here. But most of those reasons are insecure, dickish fears. I don’t have the money to hire people. I’m not an adult (right? I mean, when the fuck does that officially happen where you have your life together? Did anyone else get that adult certificate?) What if no one wants to read the results? Would I ever be able to find writers willing to write the weird shit I like? Can I even stop being a control freak long enough to let someone write my stories?

That last one is actually the kicker. It’s something that’s held me back from trying a lot of things because in the long run, it makes so much more work for me. It’s the battle against my own perfectionism. I can find blunt, ignore that bullshit answers to all those other obstacles, but me chilling the fuck out and accepting help? That’s the shit of fairy tales.

I want to live in a fairy tale! I’m tired of not doing the stuff I want because I keep holding myself back. I work so hard doing everything when I could be putting my efforts toward the right goal. What it really comes down to is…

Am I living the life I want, or the life I’m afraid to lose?

Perfectionism is a fear of letting go and fucking up. It’s a fear of not being ready to jump off the cliff or just open a new door. I can pretend all I like that it’s all about standards and quality, but under it all is this fear of moving forward and letting go.

The last time I talked to you guys, I went into the freaking journey this has been the last years while dealing with chronic illness. It seems insane that when I was at my weakest with no future ahead I chose to write an escape in these stories and tried to build an income off of it. But I wanted insanity. It was so much better than my reality at the time of having to accept that in my early 30s I was looking at the end of my life with no one able to explain why. Fuck that.

This last year after breaking free of PTSD and figuring out a lot of health answers, I kept finding myself wondering if I’m living now, or am I still trapped in old, negative habits that came with living with an illness for so long. It can become habit, those negative, bullshit lies we tell ourselves. It can be hard to change even when we’ve already changed.

For example, why did I really start writing? To escape death. Is that why I’m writing now? Of course not, so why should I be clinging to my writing the same way? Why did I start a subscription website? To escape poverty when Amazon KU failed. Should I really be doing the same exact thing when my motivations for the subscription site have completely changed? No.

I gotta get out of the habit of doing things for survival and start looking at how to live a life of thriving. What I really have to do is take ME out of the equation. That’s the problem when you do things for survival; you only see yourself and you only see the misery you’re running from. Well, I’m a fucking mess when I’m looking at me, but things are way clearer when I look in any other direction lately. XD There is nothing I’m running from anymore. What a beautiful view the world provides.

If I want a website that can flourish, I need to be looking at what readers want. Consistent, updated stories. Content that actually has a freaking ending. More new, sexy short stories to balance out all the long novels where the sexiness is spread thin. This is obvious stuff, but it’s a mountain of work when it’s all on my shoulders.

How do I get past perfectionism? With one giant question.

What if I’m holding my stories back?

I write every single day, but it was only recently I dared to ask myself this question. And what a huge, scary, dear fuck, could that be real kinda question. How revolutionary an idea. Am I holding my stories back? Me, the only one who can create them? Is that even possible? How can I hold back what wouldn’t exist without me?

Pretty freaking easily, apparently. I’m totally holding back my own stories. It’s not from some place of cruelty or anything, so much as, when I put all the work on me, I limit the ability for these stories to be created faster. And how commonsense that is. There’s only one of me, and I’m stretched too thin. Is my health consistently good? Nope. Can I write multiple stories at once at a quality I feel is acceptable at a speed where people can readily enjoy? Not even close. What happens when it’s time to do the final edit of Demon Arms and I spend hours upon hours listening to the computer read back the text aloud to make sure I didn’t miss any mistakes? Will the rest of Shiny Thief or Hellcat suddenly write itself and post on the website? Nope.

I thought I could time manage myself out of these problems. You know, do one thing one day, another thing another day. But there are too many things. It just brings me back to my nemesis, my habit of how I have survived for so very long through the most arduous of times. Me. I am my own worst enemy because I am the only one I feel safe depending on. No, I don’t let myself down, but I sure can’t do the things a group of people can do with ease. There’s only one of me. I need to change that.

So, how do I stop doing everything myself?

I’m not sure. For real, I have been this way for soooo fucking long.

It’s easy to justify it. Especially when you might be kinda good at something. And if you find with a little practice you can be good at lots of things? @_@ It’s misery. I can already write a song and sing it professionally, but I’m also the psycho who would take the time to learn how to record with materials I could afford, edit with the computer, and get that shit online to sell. I haven’t sang in years, but if I suddenly wanted that goal, fuck, I would do what it takes. I’m a jack of all trades, a problem solver. Everything is a problem to be solved, every moment a challenge worth exploring. That’s the way I see the world.

Unfortunately, that creative freedom isn’t always positive. Oh, it sounds it, especially when you’re working with little to nothing at startup for a project. Why pay for something when I can do it myself, usually at a quality others aren’t invested in reaching? I think quality is one of the most important aspects of creation. You don’t half ass something; you do it right and create something that can last. So, do I actually get a return for my quality obsession, aka perfectionism?

Eh.

It’s fucking horrible to say. It really is, (if my parents were alive they would freak to hear me admit this) but most people don’t give a fuck about quality. You know how many reviews I got bitching about certain stylizations of writing I did constantly when starting out? Like, most negative reviews, even the positive ones, had the caveat of the author uses boy or blond or brunette too much. Did they still buy and read the book and get to the end? The fact they reviewed suggests yes. My bank account totally confirmed a big yes there.

I had a lot of books done in a short amount of time back then. I didn’t care about presentation so much as just telling a story. And yeah, publishing quickly is how to win certain writing games, especially erotica. If you have 1-2 stories out every month of a quality where readers’ eyes don’t bleed, and your work is compelling, you can do well in erotica. I once wrote 5 10,000 word stories in a week while sick. It was a damn good week. Was the quality amazing? No, but people bought the books anyways. Their standards weren’t as lofty as mine.

It’s not like I’m dicking around with these rewrites, I want to be clear. I don’t think I’m wrong to want to create a better (the fucking best) version of these stories I can, but it is far more time consuming. Quality is a sacrifice of time. It could be considered a luxury when you have no money. Unless I have the cash and daring to seek out help, something is going to suffer. Right now, it’s me.

I’m looking at this looming prospect once Demon Arms is done and I need to do that final edit. It’s going to be so much longer to tackle, and once again the website will drag with no new content. What about when I want to make that interactive visual novel (a fucking prospect I again decided to do on my own because I’m insane.) What about website content then? I want a solution that doesn’t kill me by meaning I do more work. I want a solution that keeps readers happy and me sane.

Mostly. Kinda…. Fuck.

Okay, you just don’t understand how much of a control freak I am!

I don’t walk these rare, unique paths of life just because I enjoy being creative. No, I do it because it’s wonderfully empty of people trying to tell me what to do. I like to do things my way. I like to throw myself at a problem until I solve it, bloody bruises and a big smile, while other people just do their own thing and leave me to my insanity. Suddenly I want to ‘manage’ people? Converse and get them to follow my guidelines for writing?

I have no clue how to ask when it comes to things. I know how to tell, and I’m sure I sound like an asshole every time. I know what I want, then I go after it until I get it because that’s how I roll, and I don’t really care what people think about it. Excuses are another word for bullshit. I want what I want, and I want to achieve what I want, and it’s why I get shit done. I do the hard stuff and don’t accept bullshit, and if people get in the way, buh-bye.

So… I don’t imagine I work well with others. @_@ I will literally have to be a different person to get the results I want… or find a way around my own personality flaws. I’m willing to do that. I am always willing to change to live the life I want. It’s just difficult. I see these character traits as positive, until I’ve worked myself right into exhaustion, once again, without the results I want to show for it.

Right now, I’m thinking a way around my ‘issues’ is to create writing materials that can teach prospective writers how to tackle commercial writing. I mean, everything else is solved, you know? I can create a system of reference for characters, in depth outlines to follow, etc. I can solve that shit. But can I ensure a writer can follow along to my standards? I could give them info that took me years of experience to learn. Things like how to make an erotic scene sexy. How to draft write for speed and efficiency. How to self edit. How to craft different story formats to ensure tension is consistent no matter what you’re writing. How to write more engaging and immersive content.

Oh, yeah, and how to be a total control freak.

Every time I think of this shit, I don’t know if I’m offering guidance or trying to force someone to stay in my style of writing to prevent me from having a meltdown and rewriting everything. Not even joking. This is so difficult for me!

Someone save me from myself T_T

This is a battle I want to win. When I took that business course, this was my biggest weakness. My need to control everything on my own. The only way the website is going to be able to grow and be something more, is if I get the fuck out of the way and allow it to be. Seriously, what an epiphany to realize I am the only person in the way of getting my stories done faster, maybe even better.

I can figure this out. I have never shied away too long from the things that make me uncomfortable. I want to win this challenge. I want to make the website about consistent, sexy MM stories. A safe place where you can read taboo and not have to worry about it disappearing or being attacked by this ridiculous censorship movement happening on the Internet. I have so many ideas just waiting for my time. So I need to solve this problem of time and put my efforts where they’re best utilized.

I should probably be more worried about not having money to do this atm. That would be the logical thing. Weirdly enough, I assume I’m going to solve that problem much easier than the control freak stuff. I can stagger hiring writing based on funds verses, like, hiring an employee. There’s a lot more leeway. I truly believe I can solve a lack of funds faster than I can solve not obsessing like a psycho over full creative control. @_@ I don’t know if that makes me cocky or delusional, but I’m going with it. XD

So, yeah. A goal for 2019. One that will take the pace required to prevent me from having a nervous breakdown at the prospect of relinquishing control and coming up with the money to hire help. There is so much to learn and do. Like, this week alone, I’m looking at a new subscription software for the website to finally deal with all those annoying date issues, figuring out shipping costs and taxes—actually looking at Fulfillment By Amazon where I could offer free Prime shipping for physical goods. I don’t think it’s time effective considering the calendar is already late, but on stuff in the future, it might be a win. Oh, learning Google Adwords and Woocommerce. Made a gorgeous visual of where I am writing wise for the 4 main WIPs on the website (and then did all this other work instead of writing. @_@ Cuz time management is a fail when there is too much to do.)

Yeah, it’s time to learn how to get help for some of this stuff. I want to see this website be something more than just me. Eventually, I will reach that goal. It won’t be overnight. It won’t look the same as I’m envisioning it now. Still, it will be fucking awesome.

Oh, I’m feeling better! Lol, not sure if you can tell. XD

aw-5

AWAKENING
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PULLED INTO FATE
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AWAKENING
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FAMILY SECRETS
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aw-2

AWAKENING
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LUST CREATURES
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AWAKENING
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THE HIERARCHY
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Demon Bonded 11

Demon Bonded : Episode #11

Self Inflicted Wounds
$2.99
Episode #11. A dangerous hunger awakes…

Ky’s trial with the Aeternum is a day away, and he has no plan on how to face the mysterious coven of demon summoners. A new hunger wakes in him and his eyes start to glow. Something is changing, something that has Ky nearly draining a hot, but very human classmate while at school.

Ky’s losing control as his relic genes turn on. He needs the help of his relics more than ever as starvation hits him, but Ky can’t get past his feelings of betrayal. Feral, Lovely, and Magnificent Night need to convince Ky of the importance of feeding before his weakness turns to something deadly.

Time is running out. If the Aeternum coven realizes Ky is part relic, they won’t just take the demons from him, they’ll enslave Ky forever.

Each episode in this sexy, suspenseful gay monster harem serial is over 10,000 words, and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.
35,000+ wrds, Published July 29, 2018.
Heat level: XX

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT DEMON BONDED #11

I just love how Sadie writes!! Each episode of the serial just keeps getting better. I love this series so much. The more we learn about each character and thier past the more you want to know. I can’t wait for the next episode.
This is a very sexy read! Hot hot hot hot hot! Kai, Feral, Lovely are amazing and I love reading about them so much! Can’t wait till the next one!
Never a dull moment in this series (this is chapter 11) and I’m looking forward to more adventures of Ky and his family past. Plus the new friends he’s met add a little potential for further storylines.
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

“Faggot freak, twelve o’clock.”

Ky stopped short at the meanly snickered words. There was only a trickle of students in the courtyard that connected all the buildings together at Mesabi College, and everyone there was hurrying to their first class after the weekend. Ky turned to see who had spoken and was jostled forward by a group of taller students who stepped in too close. His side was struck by an elbow, and the strap of his backpack was pulled roughly from his arm. His bag fell to the ground with a loud clatter while Ky gritted his teeth and struggled to keep from being knocked off the narrow concrete path.

“Whoops,” someone snorted when they hip checked him, and Ky stumbled sideways.

Ky managed to catch himself before he hit the grass peppered with orange and red leaves. He braced his hands on his knees and growled under his breath.

Fucking Mesabi. He hadn’t bothered to be anyone but himself today, and he was paying for it.

“What’s wrong? You gonna cry?”

“Fuck you,” Ky snapped as he looked up through his spiky black hair and found the faces of the boys who shoved past him. They had turned back to see his reaction, and Ky was greeted with an ugly sea of flannel and ill-fitting jeans. Was everyone in Blackstone Falls trapped in the fucking 90s?

“Not our thing, fairy boy,” drawled a tan, solidly built young man with cruel, light eyes. His gaze dropped to Ky’s shiny black pants that were laced up with red on the sides, his red and white band shirt that left his slim arms exposed to reveal an array of black and silver bracelets, and his shiny black fingernails. He didn’t even notice the master collar glittering at his throat as he dragged his stare up to Ky’s face and apathetically met his large silver eyes rimmed in smoky black eyeliner. “Even if you do look like a pussy.”

Anger flushed up his back and down to his toes. Ky’s mouth stretched into a grin free from humor as he stared the stranger down and debated if he wanted to feel flesh break beneath his fists. It had been a really shitty weekend, and he was kinda sure beating the fuck out of some redneck bigots would be a nice release to the supernatural stresses waiting for him at home.

It was so unlike him, Ky had to take a breath to get ahold of himself.

Shit, what the fuck was he doing? Weak. This guy was human. He was just some stupid, naive as fuck human who didn’t even know a wand to his head could kill him dead.

“What, you got something to say?” At Ky’s silent glare, the dull-eyed teen took a step forward. He was tall, blond, and had a way with his shoulders that spoke of starting more than a few beat downs. Ky tensed when something hard and aggressive flashed in the kid’s eyes. “Well? Spit it out.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak farmhand.” Ky forced himself to shrug it off and back down. He wasn’t going to fight some stupid kids who didn’t even know magic existed. Ky, no matter how assholic the opponent, was still a pacifist at heart.

“Enjoy your circle jerk, dickwads,” Ky taunted as he reached for his bag. There was a sharp inhale, and Ky paused and groaned inwardly.

“Frank, we’re late.” Someone stepped in front of the tall blond whose face had turned a blistering red at Ky’s parting words. Ky’s eyes darted to the sober looking teen holding his friend back, then to the others who had gone silent.

Right. Apparently the gay jokes only went one way around there before someone took things personally. Fun.

Ky’s glare was molten as he watched to see just how things would unfold. Frank wrenched from his friend’s grasp with an angry snarl and stomped away. The gazes turned Ky’s way were accusing, like he’d broken an unspoken rule for those born painfully straight in a world that didn’t give a fuck about sexual orientation. Ky had a feeling the only reason the group was leaving was because they didn’t want Frank to end up in jail for beating him to death.

“Faggot freak,” one called in farewell. Another echoed “freak,” less exuberantly.

“Stereotypes,” Ky grunted back, pretty sure there couldn’t be anything more mundane or annoying. He watched the group of teens leave the courtyard and walk straight into the school building he was headed for. Fuck his life if they were actually in his class.

Ky’s anger was dulled by the sleep he hadn’t actually had, and he sighed when he looked down and found his fallen backpack spilled open and Tobias’s wand visible. “Shit.” He quickly scrambled to the ground to put his things in order.

Ky hissed when he couldn’t get the wand to fit around his bulky books. He flipped it a few times and pulled the edges of the canvas to make room. He’d gotten the damn thing in earlier but just barely. It was bad enough he had Anselm’s wand up the back of his shirt. He should have worn a jacket—the weather was getting cold enough to warrant one—but Ky hadn’t wanted to hang around his house long enough to dig one out of the unpacked boxes. Things were strained around his parents, and Ky didn’t trust Marcus not to go through his things to steal the wands while he was out.

“Mother… fucking… whore!” Ky snarled when one of his books snagged on the crystal on the wand and he heard a tearing sound. He stopped struggling, hunched forward so his bangs covered his eyes, and sighed heavily. He was ready to turn the fuck around and never walk into Mesabi again. Seriously, he had to negotiate with an actual coven of witches tomorrow, and his parents thought he could just go to school the day before?

Footsteps crunched, and Ky tensed as a shadow crossed over him. He shoved the wand roughly into his backpack, cringed at the sound of ripping fabric, and quickly pulled the edges of the bag together.

“Sorry about those assholes,” an unfamiliar girl’s voice called down to him. “But you’re kinda asking for it dressed like that.”

Ky scowled. Yeah, this was so not how he wanted to spend his day. He stood abruptly and hissed when the world spun unsteadily for a moment. A hand touched his arm, and Ky quickly pulled back.

“Whoa. Chill, man.” Bright blue eyes blinked at Ky. They were surrounded by thick eyeliner from a face powdered so white and smooth, he thought he was looking at a doll. “I’m Piper.”

Ky looked down at Piper’s outreached hand with fingers that ended in two-inch-long blue nails, and then back to her bright, raccoon mask eyes of a similar shade. She looked like the kind of trouble most people who didn’t know magic got up to, and Ky was immediately wary.

She might have been going for punk, but as Ky took in her outfit, he was going to say she was an artist. Piper was decked out in a tight white corset and a deconstructed mini tutu of silver and white layers of glittery tulle and silk. Her thigh high latex boots with flat chunky heels were neon blue and splattered with white paint like she had gotten into a fight with a paint brush and intentionally lost. Her white tights were more holes than anything else, as were the long fingerless gloves she wore of the same material that stretched up to her slim biceps. Her dirty blond hair was streaked with blue and pulled back in a messy bun on the top of her head, while a delicate hoop of white gold glinted from her septum and another from her eyebrow.

“Nice nose ring,” Ky said finally. He turned with his backpack clutched to his chest and walked away. Piper was about the most normal person his own age he’d met since leaving the city, and he seriously needed to get away from her if he wanted to keep his sanity.

“Hey, wait up,” Piper called after. Her heels clunked on the pavement as she hurried to catch up to Ky’s deliberately brisk pace. “The ‘asking for it thing’ was a joke, if you can’t tell. I mean, like, duh, look at me.” She swung her bag over her shoulder while sashaying her hips and beamed. “I like your clothes. Did you make them?”

Ky shot her a sideways glance and kept walking. He was not going to get dragged into this. All he had to do was act like an asshole long enough for Piper to realize how pointless it was to talk to him.

“Come on, you’re the most interesting person I’ve met in Blackstone Falls in like, well, forever. Don’t ruin it by being antisocial.” Piper was not dissuaded by Ky’s apathetic stare, and she jumped in front of him. Ky stopped short to keep from crashing right into her. Piper’s winning smile revealed two dimples, and Ky sighed to himself. She was ridiculously adorable. Damn it.

“Or, you know, be antisocial with everyone but me,” Piper added cheerfully. “I love your shirt. Did you slash it yourself, or is this the style where you’re from? Please tell me people dress like this somewhere all the time.”

Ky steadied himself. She couldn’t even understand how complicated a subject that was. Like, did he tell her about Feral—the invisible demon who lived in his wardrobe—or the deadly overseer who nearly ate everyone in his house?

Ky exhaled noisily. Fuck, he was never going to be a normal person again.

Piper didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “If you can’t tell, I’m studying to be a fashion designer. It’s, like, my fate or something. You can’t even understand. I was born for this. Oh, but I was also born here in Blackstone Falls and the textile program is, well, it’s kinda like a sewing circle from hell. The teacher is so fucking old I want to hang myself every time she brings up buttonholes.” Piper stopped gesturing her hands and fixed Ky with a pointed look. “I haven’t seen you there yet. You’re studying fashion, right?”

“I’m an artist,” Ky grunted and pushed past her.

“I knew it!” Piper cheered. She followed after and matched Ky’s steps. “I knew you were either into fashion or art, or maybe you were one of those broody poetry writers. So, what do you do? Sculpting, painting, jewelry, glassblowing? Oh, have you tried fusion art? Your necklace is totally industrial.”

“I paint,” Ky said sharply, and was immediately annoyed with himself for answering.

The Olson House held Ky’s required English Lit course, and he quickly ducked into the building and headed down the wide, white laminate tiled hallway while Piper struggled up the flight of stairs in her impressive heels. Most of the classroom doors were closed, even though the small community college didn’t have enough students or teachers to ever have many rooms filled at the same time. Ky’s class was down a corridor, and then another. He did everything to keep his pace quick to avoid his chatty companion.

Ky unfortunately misjudged Piper’s determination to have an actual conversation with him.

“Painting, huh? I bet you use a ton of colors, right? Like crazy saturation.” Piper caught up and threw her arm across the door to Ky’s classroom before he could pass. Her grin was full of determination. “You do, don’t you? I’d love to see your color palettes. I use them to create cool color designs. Color is like my thing. Oh, maybe we could do a collaboration!”

“Uh…” Ky really couldn’t handle whatever the hell this was. “I have to get to class. I’m late,” he muttered.

“Pssh, no shit. We both are.” Ky winced when Piper’s eyes went wide with understanding. “Ha, you don’t know we’re in the same English class, do you? Seriously, you do realize I’m in your botany and Intro to Arts class, too, right?” At Ky’s blank look, Piper shook her head and tsked. “Well, I’d be offended, but you’re always spacing and you never talk to anyone. I’m kinda relieved to see you’re not stoned out of your skull enough to even talk.”

Great, not only did everyone think he was a freak, but they also thought he was drugged up. His parents would love that to go with his whole sorcery, breaking and entering, and accomplice to murder thing.

Ky pursed his lips and ducked under Piper’s arm without a word. His shoulders were stiff as he sought out an empty seat in the room of students who were staring back at him like he was a science project from an alien world. There was no way he could bullshit his way through normalcy right now. Not anymore. His father grew up in a house full of magic and wouldn’t bring himself to admit it was real.

Experimented on. His entire family was experimented on. He was never human.

Ky’s stomach lurched as a familiar, sick wave hit him all over again. He threw himself into the empty seat by the window in the back and clutched his arms around his bag on his desk. The teacher gave him a look Ky didn’t notice with the way the room was tipping. He was seconds from jumping out of his skin, or screaming, or maybe just being really sick in front of a bunch of judgmental, snickering college students.

He never should have come in today, but he knew his parents would’ve freaked. Ky could only handle so much when it came to being a disappointment to his family.

Piper took the desk beside him and hefted up a brilliantly glittering bag made out of small, colorful quilted triangles trimmed in white. She rummaged through the large bag until she found her notebook and pen. Ky kept his head down to avoid her gaze, and therefore the invitation for conversation. His eyes were drawn to the door when someone slipped through and the teacher stopped short.

“Late, Mr. Matthews. We’ve been over this.”

It was the guy who kept Frank from flipping out. His dark eyes met Ky’s a moment after he took a seat on the other side of the classroom.

Ky bit back a groan. Great. Fucking great.

A pen tapped his desk, and Ky jolted and turned his head to where Piper was leaning his way.

“Do you have notes for Friday’s reading? I had to leave early.”

Ky stared at her silently. The girl just wouldn’t give up. With a sigh, Ky sat up and pulled his backpack down toward him so he could find his notebook. He scowled when he discovered the inner lining of the bag was badly torn from the wand’s crystal topper. Ky was careful to keep Tobias’s wand covered as he pulled his notebook free. He turned to the last page he wrote in, twisted the cover back, and handed it to Piper.

Piper took one look at Ky’s notes—an array of dark scribbled drawings in the margins with very little text—and handed the notebook right back. “Forget it. I’m sure I’ll figure it out. Do you, like, even care if you pass this class?”

The question surprised him, and Ky’s gaze fell to his desk as he shrugged defensively.

He wasn’t exactly brilliant, and school never came easy for him even if he was determined to make something of himself with his art. Well, that was, he used to be determined. Things had made a lot more sense when he first moved there before relics, overseers, and magic came into his life.

Ky suddenly felt guilty about just how little attention he had for class, and how much money his parents were spending to keep him there.

His thoughts flashed to Magnificent Night, and Ky flipped his notebook to a blank page. There was so much he couldn’t ever hope to fix.

Ky hunched in his seat and tried to focus on the teacher’s lecture. It was pointless with all the thoughts swirling in his mind about tomorrow and the Aeternum. Even now the simple black business card in his back pocket burned with magic and destruction.

He might lose them all, not just Tobias’s demons but Lovely, Feral, and Magnificent. Ky couldn’t let it happen, but then, he had no power to stop it. He might die tomorrow just for trusting Stewart Moore enough to walk into what felt like an obvious trap. Having Liem vouch for the sorcerer wasn’t an assurance. If anything, it pretty much promised he’d be just as monstrous as Tobias.

Ky didn’t know enough, and the knowledge of his ignorance only made the lives he was responsible for feel heavier. He sighed and rested his chin on his hand, and his gaze caught on a pair of brown eyes that quickly darted away. Ky raised an eyebrow when the same guy from earlier looked his way again. His eyes touched longer this time before the kid turned his gaze down to his desk with a blush.

Really?

Ky shook his head and snorted softly. A self-hating fag picking on the goth fairy. It was so fucking cliché it made his teeth itch. Still, it was more interesting than his parents calling him a liar and a thief. Probably better than being home and having to face the mess of a requiem sleeping in his bed.

Ky’s expression darkened and his gaze unfocused as he thought of Magnificent Night. There was no escaping this. No matter where he went, they were all bonded to him now. Their lives were in his hands, and it felt like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

***

The sounds of chairs scraping back and bags rustling alerted Ky class was over. He pulled his dulled stare from the window, and the room blurred before him. Ky had barely slept since his wards were invaded by Stewart Moore. When he finally gave in, curled up in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, his dreams were full of the impossible tasks ahead of him. There was less than 24 hours to prepare, and he had no plan or idea of what he was going to do.

“Hey, you ready?”

Ky blinked and lifted his gaze to the person standing in front of his desk. It was the guy from earlier, the one who kept staring at him, and Ky raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“Almost,” Piper chimed next to Ky as she gathered her books. “I need to stop in at Mrs. Babin’s and ask about the project due next week.”

“Come on, Piper. You promised.” With a frustrated sigh, he shoved a hand into the back of his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill. “If this is about gas money…”

“Jared, stop being a dumbass. I’m keeping my promise. It’s just a little later than planned.” Piper pointedly ignored the money being pushed at her, stood, and hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “What’s the rush? It won’t be more than ten minutes.”

Jared glanced self-consciously at Ky, who was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t there as he tried to force his notebook into his overstuffed backpack. “It’s nothing. I just want to get out of here. My mom has been flipping over this thing, and the sooner I get rid of those damn cats, the better.”

Ky’s head throbbed in pain as he struggled with his bag and tried to get the sides closed.

Seriously, why the hell did every damn class in Mesabi require books when they could all be stored digitally? He understood that some people couldn’t afford computers, but you could read a book on plenty of affordable devices no bigger than his hand.

Ky jolted when a bright blue fingernail tapped his desk, and Piper spoke. “Hey, you wanna hang out? Jared’s got a litter of barn kittens we’re taking to the shelter. They’re super cute and tiny.” She cupped her hands to indicate the small size.

“Uh…” Ky glanced from Piper to Jared, who looked more than a little uncomfortable at his inclusion. “You’re just giving them away? Are they even old enough to be from their mother?”

“He’s trying to keep them from being eaten by the other cats,” Piper explained when Jared’s expression soured. “There are a ton of feral cats on his land, and the kittens keep ending up dead. Jared’s crazy mother won’t…”

“Piper!” Jared hissed, his cheeks flushed with outrage.

“What?” Piper fixed him with an impassive stare. “Your mother is out of her fucking mind, and the entire town knows it. Ky’s not going to care. He lives in the evil, haunted death house, after all.”

Ky stopped fighting with his backpack. “I live where?”

“Ha, you have no clue.” Piper smirked unapologetically. “I think some of the urban legends about your place are actually in one of the books about the town. Let’s see, there’s the Conner disappearance. They found a dead kid there, supposedly. Oh, and the house, like, never catches on fire.”

Piper paused and carefully combed fingers through her hair. “Actually, you should probably keep an eye out for that. People have been trying to burn the Scion mansion down for years. Kids go down all the time to see if it’ll burn. Well, that and for the ghosts.”

“Oh.” It was hard to think of kids sneaking outside the Scion mansion for years while Lovely, Feral, and Magnificent were struggling to stay alive inside.

“You haven’t, you know, seen any ghosts since you moved in?” Piper’s overly casual posture did nothing to disguise the interest glittering in her eyes.

Ky’s curiosity about the rumors circling Anselm’s old house wasn’t strong enough to suck him into actually having a conversation with people who thought ghosts were cool.

“No ghosts,” he said flatly and pushed himself up to his feet. Ky lurched and grabbed his desk when the room spun. “Shit.”

“Whoa. You okay?” Jared reached out and his hand grazed Ky’s arm. “You look like you’re about to hit the ground.”

“I’m fine.” Ky met his gaze, and Jared immediately looked away.

Jared’s cheeks tinted pink, and his dirty blond hair teased into his eyes as he spoke to the spot next to Ky. “You can come with, if you want. I mean, the kittens are really small and stuff, so yeah.” Jared shoved his hands into his pockets, and his eyes darted to Ky and then away in erratic movements. “There’s room in the car, so…”

“You mean there’s room in my car,” Piper interrupted haughtily. “You seriously need to get your own car.”

“Right, I’ll just get a license and car overnight. Maybe I’ll win the lottery at the same damn time too.” Jared tried to hand Piper the crumpled up five dollars again. “Just take it, okay? I feel guilty enough needing rides from you. Just because the town can’t afford a bus doesn’t mean you should have to be my shuttle to college without some sort of compensation.”

“Uh, I think we’ve been clear about this. If you would stop bitching and just let me dress you all hot like, I’d be happily compensated.” Piper flattened the money on her desk and then carefully folded it into a small rectangle. She turned back and tucked the bill into Jared’s hand. “I need a macho boy to model some of my clothes for class.”

“No. No way in fuck!” Jared’s nostrils flared, and he stumbled back. “I’d rather be broke.”

Piper pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Come on, I promise nothing will be pink. Well, maybe a bit of hot pink. It’s very metro-sexual.”

“What did you just call me?” Jared’s face turned red. His gaze darted to Ky before he ducked around and grabbed his backpack.

Ky had to wonder just what Piper’s idea of men’s clothes were to freak Jared out so much. Anything would be better than what the guy was wearing now. His jeans were dusty and torn, and not in a stylish way. He wore a grungy gray tee under his long sleeve blue and gray flannel shirt that was so faded it was nearly palatable. Ky eyed his chest as he tried to distinguish which band was supposedly featured with the worn lettering.

Jared’s shoes were even worse. There was a hole so big in one of them, it was a surprise his foot didn’t fall out. The strip of duct-tape wasn’t doing a lot for it, and hung off the edge like a dirty, ragged flag.

You could disguise poverty better in the city. The local Goodwill where Ky grew up had clothes from people who only wore things a few times before they were thrown away for the next big trend. Not so much in Blackstone Falls where clothes were a commodity more than anything to do with fashion. It only made Ky’s mood worse when he thought of his closet full of shredded clothes back home.

Fuck his life if he ended up dressed in flannel.

“Ask him to model your clothes. I mean, he looks like a model and, uh…” Jared’s fluster only grew worse when Ky looked his way. “Nothing. I didn’t, uh… I really need to get this cat thing done, like, now.”

Piper raised an eyebrow when Jared headed for the door without her.

“He’ll figure it out eventually,” Ky said with faint amusement in his voice.

“I think ‘little Jared’ is doing all the thinking at the moment.” Piper twitched her finger to exaggerate her point. “So, are you into that?” She nodded her head to where Jared exited.

“Am I into sexually confused guys who can’t get over their hang-ups to even wear something that might make them look hot?” Ky shrugged noncommittally.

A month ago, Jared could have been interesting. More than interesting, really. He was hot, and although in the closet so deep he couldn’t see the walls, he still had the guts to stand up to the kind of guys who thought Ky was a target for being different. It didn’t hurt that he was easy to rile up. Jared was the type of guy he could tease the fuck out of right into his pants.

Ky reached up and let his fingers touch the chain links on his collar. A month could change a lot of things.

“You like older guys,” Piper said sagely.

Ky shook out of his thoughts and grabbed the top of his backpack. “I like guys who have their shit together.”

Guys who wouldn’t freak at the idea of magic, or worse, get super excited like they just won the lottery. Definitely not a sorcerer, that was for fuck sure. But maybe a guy with horns and fangs that nipped just right. Someone who could pin him down and growl until his toes curled…

“So, yeah, older.”

Ky shrugged. He was pretty sure age had nothing to do with it.

“Shit, Piper, are you coming or not?” Jared apparently remembered Piper was his ride. His expression was stormy as he charged back into the room.

“I still have to see Babin.” Piper didn’t flinch at Jared’s frustrated scowl. “I also don’t know if Ky is coming with.”

She turned back to Ky. “I really don’t mind if you want to come. We can show you around the town.”

Ky paused when they both turned to him expectantly. He knew they were the same age as him, but they seemed so young. Weak, naive. Human. They had no idea what he was, or what Blackstone Falls hid just beneath the surface. Piper was worried over grades that wouldn’t protect her from a crazy sorcerer, and Jared’s biggest fear was if his friends found out he was queer.

Ky’s chest felt tight, and he looked away without speaking. He couldn’t be like them anymore. He couldn’t go back.

Ky grabbed his bag by the strap. “I have to go.”

“Oh.” Piper wasn’t deterred. “What about tomorrow?”

“No, definitely not tomorrow.” Ky snarled as he thought of Mr. Moore’s threat to basically kidnap him if he didn’t show up willingly. He couldn’t have normal people in his life, not with the damn monsters he was dealing with.

Ky started for the door. “I need to go.”

“Wait, let me get your number. I really want your take on some of my clothing patterns.”

“Not interested.” Ky stopped short when Piper jumped in front of him and pulled out her phone. His nerves felt frayed, and he was starting to get angry. “I’ve got better things to do than hang out in front of the town’s only ice cream shop hoping to tip a fucking cow.”

Piper paused and looked up from her phone. “That’s just a myth. We have two ice cream shops.” She sighed when Ky refused to crack a smile. “Listen, I just wanted to show you around a bit. You’re new, the place is kinda shit, whatever. I’ve been surrounded by the same three hundred faces for, like, forever. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”

“Not like you, anyways,” Jared mumbled under his breath.

“Geez, suck his dick already,” Piper snarked.

Jared coughed awkwardly. “That’s not… I mean… Uh…” His cheeks flushed and his eyes darted toward the door.

Ky wondered if he’d bolt again. Piper didn’t give him a choice and hip checked him.

Jared stumbled and quickly recovered. “Damn it, you’re lucky you’re a girl.”

Piper stuck her tongue out. “You’re the idiot who thinks I can’t take a punch.”

Ky stifled a sigh. He suddenly felt terrible, and more, he hated that he cared. Why did they have to be so damn normal?

“I have to go.”

Jared stood taller at the rejection and crossed his arms over his chest. “What, you have a hot date?”

Ky shook his head and smiled bitterly. Fucking whore. “Yeah, I’m late to be gang banged by three hot as fuck, totally horny guys. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He went to push past the two and jerked when Jared grabbed his arm.

Jared’s expression turned sheepish when Ky whirled and glared at him. “I didn’t mean… Sorry. I wasn’t saying it was a queer thing.”

“I’m gay,” Ky snapped. “Every reference to my sexuality is going to be a ‘queer thing.’ Are we done here?”

“Shit, I’m just trying to apologize.” Jared ran a hand through his hair and released a heavy breath. “Frank is an asshole. I don’t… Who people sleep with isn’t anyone’s business.”

Ky pressed a hand to his temple as pain flared again. The last thing he expected was an apology, and it sure as fuck wasn’t Jared’s job to be giving it for someone else’s shitty behavior. For all his fluster and bravado, he was a decent guy.

Ky’s gaze drifted down when Jared’s tongue darted out a moment to lick his lips. He might have been hot too, even with the ugly flannel.

“Are you okay?” Jared asked when Ky wavered on his feet.

“I’m fine,” Ky snapped. “I just want to go home. I missed breakfast and…” Ky’s brows furrowed as he tried to remember the last thing he ate. His mouth pinched tight and stomach churned.

Tobias. The last thing he ate was Tobias. Fucker.

The room dimmed at the edges, and Ky quickly pushed past Jared and Piper and escaped into the hallway.

Fuck, he didn’t care if he looked like a lunatic. He couldn’t do this today. He never should have gone to school.

“Hey, you forgot your notebook.”

Ky barely heard Jared as he pushed his heavy legs forward and tried to keep from collapsing. The hallway felt closed in, dark, and kept tilting at the most annoying angles. Ky lurched to a stop when his vision was suddenly filled with blue flannel and a faded gray tee.

“You dropped your notebook.” Jared held it up while Ky glared.

He seriously needed a new bag.

“Listen, do you need help? You look…” Jared swallowed hard when Ky’s gaze moved to his, and his silver eyes glinted with an otherworldly, cerulean glow. “Damn.”

Ky’s heartbeat sounded loud in his ears as blue filled his vision. He could smell the sweat on Jared’s flesh and hear the sharp inhale of his breath. His gaze slipped down to take in the breadth of his strong shoulders, and his fit chest half obscured by ill-fitting clothes. Ky’s eyes fixed on the flutter at his neck that revealed Jared’s pulse was racing. Heat flushed through Ky’s body and he fought the overwhelming urge to press forward.

Jared was hot and clearly into him. Ky glanced down and exhaled slowly when he saw Jared’s jeans were failing to hide his erection. Fuck, it’s not like it would be the end of the world if he kissed him… touched him. Ground up against him until they both came.

Ky’s breath sped up when Jared stepped closer. Getting off right now would feel really fucking good. He was so hungry. Ky was starving and Jared looked just as ravenous…

Hot breath brushed his cheek, and Ky jolted back to reality. The room spun, and he grabbed the wall and ducked his head to avoid Jared’s lips.

What the fuck was he thinking? Human. The guy was fucking human and so closeted he made the wardrobe back home look like daylight.

“Give me my book,” Ky rasped. He licked dry lips and fought to will the hungry glow from his eyes.

Jared couldn’t stop staring at his face, and his gaze roamed over Ky’s features, his heavy eyelids, and lingered on his lips.

“We should hang out sometime. I’m not… I’m not like those other guys,” Jared assured quietly.

A mean smile split across Ky’s face. “Liking dick doesn’t get you an automatic pass into my pants.”

No, apparently just having a dick was enough for him lately.

With a scowl, Ky snatched his notebook from Jared’s hand and staggered past. He rolled his eyes when he saw a phone number written on the back in a sparkling purple gel pen. Fuck, that girl did not give up. Ky walked faster to escape the weight of Jared’s gaze as he stared after him.

His head pounded with every erratic pulse of his heart and wavering step he took. There was something wrong with him. Not just the whole turning into a slut and ready to fuck any guy who looked at him twice. No, there was something seriously wrong with him.

The corridor blurred before his eyes as Ky forced himself forward. When he was able to focus again he was staring at an unfamiliar wall of lockers. His bag was on the ground, and his notebook, pens, and Tobias’s wand spilled out around his motionless feet. Ky blinked in confusion and tried to remember when he got there or how he dropped his bag. His mind felt like a dark void, and it was hard to make sense of anything.

Ky? Ky, can you hear me?

Ky shook his head and groaned when it throbbed in protest.

Lovely’s voice grew more concerned. Ky, are you okay? Your energy is all over the place.

“I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Ky felt too heavy, and he unsteadily sank to his knees. He hunched forward, his face hidden behind his hair as he gasped for breath.

Crazy. He was a crazy person. He kept hearing voices in his head. Crazy people never knew they were actually crazy until they were locked up or shooting down a crowd of people.

Ky? Ky, call for me.

Ky winced at the frantic sound of Lovely’s voice. “I’m fine,” he whispered weakly. “Leave me alone.”

He didn’t want Lovely’s help. The relics betrayed him, Lovely worst of all, and he couldn’t face them.

Ky slumped forward and drew in weak breaths. He stared at his shaking hands with unfocused eyes. The hallway was silent, the temperature cool on his flushed skin, and Ky lost track of time as he counted his breaths and the world spun around him.

Whelp. Feral’s voice was strange in his mind. It was the first time he had spoken to Ky this way, and with his voice came his presence, warm and sturdy just like the coyote demon. Let me reach you.

Ky gritted his teeth and growled. Feral couldn’t handle leaving the manor never mind coming to his fucking school.

“Go away. Just leave me the fuck alone, all of you!” He lurched forward and clutched the cold laminate floor when a wave of dizziness hit him.

When Feral returned, his voice was subdued. Ky, you’re scaring him. Both of them.

Ky closed his eyes and hissed out. Feral sounded too quiet, like maybe he was scared too.

Please, whelp. You need help.

Damn it. Fucking damn it, why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone today?

Ky snarled at the floor he was practically kissing at this point. His hair was fanned out around his face like a dark, silky curtain. “Fine,” he snapped weakly. “Just you.”

 

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Demon Bonded 10

Demon Bonded : Episode #10

Strays, Links And Demons
$0.99
Episode #10. The line between humanity and demon blurs…

Ky can’t catch a break. While trying to come to terms with the murder he helped commit, the wards to his house are broken into by a new master sorcerer. Stewart Moore is condescending, arrogant, and might be Ky’s hope or doom in his upcoming trial.

The Aeternum, a coven of demon summoners, has laid claim to Tobias’s demons and wand. If Ky can’t convince them he’s going to survive long enough to protect the seven lives he’s bonded to, the coven will forcefully take them.

Ky is betrayed when a new revelation concerning Anselm brings his entire existence into question.

There’s no one to turn to or trust when his only allies are the abused demons who exploit to survive. Ky is submerged in a world of murder, slavery, and sorcery with no way back to his old life. He’s not who he thought he was; he might have never been.

Each episode in this sexy, suspenseful gay monster harem serial is over 10,000 words, and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.
14,000+ wrds, Published September 29, 2017.
Heat level: X

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT DEMON BONDED #10

I love this author so much and although I followed her to other platforms I was happy to find her back here in the KU world. I have waited a while for the next installment in this series and she did not disappoint. I will not drop any spoilers but I was happy to see Magnificent Knight. Definitely recommend this author!!
So many unanswered questions… New perils, old problems, and secrets.
Oh poor magnificent. . . I was really hoping there’d be more to it, since we had to wait so long for it. Oh well, seems like she doesn’t intent to make us wait so long for the next one. I’m excited about where we’re going. What’s going to happen with magnificent, lovely and feral? Hows he going to keep the other 3 safe? How’s he going to keep himself safe when he has to face all those sorcerers?
READ AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

Ky stared blankly up at the ceiling where he was lying in bed. The gargoyles leered down at him from between his dark, damp strands of hair. His towel was strewn beside him, and he hadn’t bothered to dress. He didn’t feel like moving, didn’t feel like getting up, didn’t feel like anything. He didn’t know where Lovely and Feral were. He wasn’t sure if he was pissed off they disappeared when he had so many questions or if he was glad to be alone.

Probably the latter. It was too much of an effort to talk while he felt like this.

Everything was a mess. His mind was a dark buzz of something bordering misery if he could find the energy to feel even that. The fucked up thing was it had nothing to do with Tobias. It should have. If he had a fucking soul, he would feel something for helping to take a life. When he searched within, the most he felt was resigned.

It had to be done. Tobias did worse—so much worse—and would have continued to. Death came to everyone whether they were good, evil, or a fucked up sorcerer who killed the majority of the demons he summoned. If anyone was overdue to die, it was Tobias Godwin.

Ky’s melancholy had everything to do with his mountain of fuck ups, the biggest on the pile being Magnificent Night. With a sigh, he touched his collar and the links hanging there. There were so many now. It wasn’t that long ago when he was surprised to have Lovely’s jewel on the smooth leather. Now there were seven lives connected to him. Seven trapped souls were stuck in his care, and he had no fucking clue what to do.

He was so naive. Dumb, really. He was so fucking dumb. How many times did he nearly get himself killed just this fucking week? He trusted too easily and with beings who had no reason to return his trust. Anselm studied Magnificent Night for at least 200 years. He was chained for 200 years. For all the good Ky wanted for the Relics, really, why should they trust him? He was lucky Magnificent didn’t break his neck the first moment they met. He could have. He could have killed him and drained him as easily as any rat. Freed, a Requiem had the ability to take on an Overseer and win. Magnificent could have killed him, but he chose to feed from him instead.

The sex, the perceived affection; what did it mean to Magnificent? Ky might as well have fallen in love the moment he saw the beautiful Requiem. He sure as fuck lost his mind, if not his heart to a demon who refused to talk to him. It couldn’t have been the same for Magnificent Night. What was sex to a creature like him but a manipulation? A meal. It was much worse since being chained for 200 years. An obligation.

Screw the stupid baby sorcerer so he’ll set him free. Fuck him so he won’t leave him to die alone in the basement. Fuck him so he won’t beat him, or starve him, or kill him.

Ky sighed and rolled to his side. He threw his arm over his face to block the light from his eyes.

God, he was a monster. He was a damn naive child and Magnificent saw it clear enough. Hell, he couldn’t even be angry about it. Magnificent deserved to be free, not chained, enslaved or tortured by that Overseer Demencious. As for Lovely and Feral? It was probably the same, right? Why would it be different? Lovely made every move from the beginning. He needed power, he needed a sorcerer to help him kill Demencious, and Ky was the only one there.

What was he really expecting from beings so much stronger, faster, and smarter? Relics lived far longer and saw so much. Who was he to such perfect beings but a nuisance at best? A slave owner at worst. They must laugh at him every moment he wasn’t around.

Probably now. He was just the idiot who thought he was in love with strangers from another world. Three. Love for three, but he’d fuck any of them who showed an interest. He was the idiot for thinking he was more than food and a path to safety for a bunch of abused and frightened beings. He was such a fucking fool.

All the Relics wanted was to be free, and he chained them because of Magnificent’s power. It was just another sign of his weakness. Even when he tried to do his best, he just destroyed lives.

Ky sat up slowly and reached for the towel. He ruffled his hair to get the last of the water out as his thoughts continued their dark spiral. He needed to find a way to remove the bonds without harming the Relics or himself. There had to be a way. Tobias removed Liem’s link to Brave. There had to be a way to free them all from him. He’d find a way to break Magnificent’s chains, free the Relics from his collar, and they could go live their lives.

Maybe Lovely, Feral and Magnificent would want to live with Brave’s group. They could all have a home in Tobias’s mansion free of any humans telling them what to do.

Ky stood and slipped into a pair of fresh underwear. He went to the wardrobe and pulled out an only mildly slashed pair of black jeans. His fingers sought the holes, his eyes unseeing as he stared at the floor.

It would be best. He wasn’t cut out for this. Dumb. He was always so dumb. He hated it. If he were smarter, he’d be doing something real with his life instead of wasting it on an art degree. Maybe he would have started in a field where he’d be making money so his parents wouldn’t be struggling. They were paying for his college when he hadn’t even tried to get a job. He had to be a total asshole to think that a degree at a community college was somehow going to propel him to artistic stardom.

Ky sighed dejectedly as he pulled his jeans on. These thoughts weren’t necessarily new, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling them quite this completely. It was like his optimism and joy for life drained from him the same moment he discovered what the power Magnificent Night gave him really did. It made Relics think he was someone trustworthy, someone attractive, sexy, and irresistible. If they were foolish enough to have sex with him, they ended up bonded to him and trapped. Just another link on a sorcerer’s collar.

Monstrous. Every Relic he went near became a puppet to his new power. Ky could only hope if he did find a way to unlink Magnificent Night, the ability would leave him as well. No one as dumb as him should be allowed to have such an awful power.

Ky reached for a shirt the same moment he felt a strange flare shoot through the soles of his feet. “What the…?” He blinked down, then stumbled back as Feral and Lovely burst through the wardrobe.

“Someone crossed the wards.”

Ky’s confused gaze turned to Lovely and then to Feral, both of them tense and expectant. They were beautiful, warriors designed for better things than this. They deserved so much, and he was holding them back. He was keeping them trapped.

Lovely touched his shoulder, his violet and blue eyes piercing. “Ky, the wards are breached.”

It took him a moment to remember what a ward was, and then another to realize the repercussions of having someone cross through. Fuck, even now he was just an idiot. Ky shook himself as the seriousness of the situation sank in. “An Overseer?”

“Sorcerer. He’s crossed the wards but hasn’t destroy them. It’s a show of ability.” Lovely’s claws extended and his fangs grew sharper. His cat-like ears twitched as he tilted his head and listened to the noises of the house. “He’s downstairs with your parents.”

Fear stabbed through Ky, deep past his depression and apathy. Demencious targeted his parents last time; would a sorcerer do the same? Tobias, a master sorcerer, didn’t seen demons as human and had no problem killing them because of it. He knew Ky was a sorcerer and yet Tobias admitted to wanting to see the Relics kill him through the black link. When faced with powerless humans like his mother and father, Ky doubted such a man would hesitate to kill if it got him what he wanted.

Ky didn’t bother stopping for a shirt as he whirled from the wardrobe and ran to the dresser. He tucked Tobias’s wand in his back pocket and brandished Anselm’s in hand before he stalked to the bedroom door and threw it open.

Feral stopped him at the door frame. His brows were knit together, golden eyes stormy. “What are you doing, whelp? Thornes and I…”

“He broke into our house.” Ky pushed past the coyote demon and headed for the stairs. “If you don’t kill him, I will.”

 

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DEMON ARMS

THE PARANORMAL ACADEMY FOR TROUBLED BOYS #1 (ORIGINAL VERSION)

Just dodging jail, dragon shifter Wylie ends up in the Academy, an institution for out of control paranormals. He falls for a sexy, troubled sorcerer whose magical infliction makes him too deadly to touch. Convincing Dorian to be his might just get them all killed.

X 101,000+ wrds, paranormal, dragon shifter, sorcery, first time, NA. Published: April 1, 2016

I’LL TELL

A BLACKMAILING STEPBROTHER ROMANCE

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Jayce has been doing everything to get his now official younger brother settled in to his new home, all while fighting some very unbrotherly feelings for the angry, isolated brat. After things get weird, Declan decides to turn the tables, blackmailing his older brother into greater heights of depravity. Can Jayce keep from getting sucked into Declan’s twisted games?
XX56,000+ wrds, contemporary, stepbrother psi, new adult, blackmail. Published: January 23, 2016

THE DEMON VIRUS

AN INTENSE PARANORMAL SHORT FICTION

A sexy thank you for joining the Newsletter. <3

This is a rather intense, dripping wet, XXXXX rated MM fic featuring a naïve main character, his manipulative best friend, a very sexually aggressive incubus that finds his victims through the Internet, and his big monster cock covered in ridges. Like many of my erotic stories, it features dubcon and is intended for 18+ readers.

PATB Serial

NEW ADULT PARANORMAL MM ACTION ADVENTURE ROMANCE WITH SHIFTERS, SORCERERS, WEREWOLVES, DEMONS AND GANGSTERSWylie's bio & reference last updated 1/27/20A section in progress where you can find character bios, fun facts, reference for magic, tech, and lore of the PATB world, quizzes and Q&As. Will be added to as the series is written.

AWAKENING

NEW ADULT PARANORMAL MM EPIC FANTASY ROMANCE WITH FAE, GODS, AND ANGSTScene #25 last updated 2/16/19

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Everything found here will have been funded by supporters on Patreon. This includes the Demon Bonded serial where you can get updates before it publishes.

Demon Bonded: Coven Saga ep 12: Scene 2 last updated 8/10/20

This is an experiment with Patreon to find a way around the rabid censorship and discrimination of certain erotic subject matter. I’ve had books banned without explanation or direct proof of Content Guidelines being broken while straight books with the same ‘taboo’ content is allowed to sell on Amazon and other platforms. This shame based censorship not only tries to suppress the creation of certain books, but also punishes authors, and sometimes readers who seek to read these subjects. I’m calling bullshit on these discriminatory practices, and I’m looking to find a way to fund taboo reads outside of mainstream platforms.

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HARRY POTTER FANFICS

REMOVED BECAUSE JK ROWLING IS A HATEFUL TRANSPHOBE

So… I thought I could compromise with these Harry Potter fanfics. They were supposed to be fun, but they can’t be anymore. They can’t be anything more but a show of support of hate.

I think I was naive when it started, hopeful it was another out of touch celebrity who was bumbling through a complex topic. You know how those billionaires get, just saying things without research, thinking they must be right because their echo chamber insists they’re right. Don’t we all just hate to point out to the powerful how they’re abusing their power — surely it’s a mistake, surely they don’t mean it that way? Surely conflict avoidance is the answer, and the monster they have become will go away if we don’t acknowledge it? Just hide under the covers and Voldemort will go away.

JK Rowling has created an army of transphobes. She is the leader of a hate movement. She is emboldened as companies continue to profit off of her intellectual property and enrich her. She is not going away.

I first truly realized this shopping around the holiday season after I was starting to feel better, only to stop in front of a display with Potter merch and feel the sickening twist in my stomach as I watched people browse the contents. Were they fans before JK Rowling went full out TERF? Or were they “new” fans, people who bought the merch because they wanted an easily recognized symbol of hate to display but they could play dumb if anyone called them out on it? Was the store itself even safe when everyone knew JK Rowling was spreading misinformation and lies that were leading to violence against transgendered people? Did it matter anymore when anything connected to JK Rowling was a symbol of hate?

I can’t claim this is the first time I had to let go of an author, but it was never to this extreme. I didn’t really get into Orson Scott Card until right before he revealed his bigotry against LGBTQs. I never wrote fanfiction for his characters. Instead, as an adult, I was able to look at his work and see his struggle, see in his books how he was losing to the twisted memes his religious community instilled in him until he couldn’t see beyond it. But I also acknowledged that he was an adult making choices, choices that were spreading hate and bigotry against a marginalized community, and I, as an adult, had to make a choice in response.

It was a learning experience for me. I didn’t want to learn from what was happening to JK Rowling, which is why I fought it as long as I could. I wanted to stay a child and play make-believe.

It doesn’t matter what I want it to be; JK Rowling is a celebrated transphobe in 2023. She is making money off her intellectual properties to fund the hateful bigotry she puts out into the world. And her transphobic followers use her work to fund her hate, and they use her work to terrorize transgender people. It doesn’t matter the intentions of when those books were first written. It doesn’t matter the intentions of the fans who are not transphobes, who just want to be entertained by a story of an orphan boy who discovered he was “special”, deserving. Harry Potter and all other works created by JK Rowling and her other pen names fund hate.

The nazi symbol once represented peace until Hitler got a hold of it. It doesn’t mean it’s no longer only the nazi symbol of hate today. Things change, and I’m not so stuck in my ways that I’m going to pretend that it doesn’t demand I change as well.

There are better stories out there. There are far better writers out there. And the ultimate majority don’t have their works symbolize hate. I’m letting go of Harry Potter because I don’t support hate, and there is no compromising with a transphobe. JK Rowling is an adult making adult choices. Choices to say and do things things that exclude and outright harm transgendered people. She is not intellectually impaired. The color of her skin, perceived sex, and the gender she identifies with does not provide a justification for what she’s doing. She is not a victim, but a protected harasser who self justifies by hiding behind a story of victimhood to prevent facing the repercussions of her actions. Her class — her billionaire status — does not mean she is magically smarter and more correct than anyone else. She is capable enough to write a story, one that understands what is good and what was bad. She is not ignorant to these things. She is making a choice to target, harass, and create an atmosphere of violence against one of the most marginalized, at risk communities in the history of humanity. And she does it while claiming she cares about women, just so long as woman is defined by her limited, bigoted viewpoint.

JK Rowling doesn’t care about women. She doesn’t even know what a woman is.

For those who looked to Harry Potter as a hero, as someone you wanted to be when you grew up, to be such a hero you need to fight against the evil JK Rowling is spreading in the world. The hardest thing children must do when they grow is to become individuals separate from their parents’ and society’s antiquated and biased views, but it is the only way to bring needed change in a broken world.

JK Rowling doesn’t know what it’s like to be an orphan, to be an outsider to the accepted class — that’s the irony I have always felt when I see so many of these 2 dimensional stories of child abandonment when I grew up in foster care and was later adopted. It’s a trope; few writers understand how complex abandonment is. How complex and devastating growing up on the outside of society is, having to negotiate with a world that will never fully see you as belonging just because you don’t have parents.

And if you think that sort of discrimination doesn’t exist, you have never lived it. Humanity doesn’t need a good reason to trigger their xenophobia; just like some see a spot on an apple and assume it’s bad, some see a child without parents and assume the same. Some see a presentation of a gender role that doesn’t match their expectation and are triggered. A tic of a hand or a stutter and some people are triggered. Some see tattoos or a style of clothing and are triggered because they don’t feel surrounded by the familiar, and therefore justify lashing out. Humanity is innately broken, and it is up to us to fight the rationalization of xenophobia if we ever want a better world.

And beware those who are already safe, are already protected by the world we are in, because as much as they might say they want “better”, human nature promises they will fight equality if it feels like they lose their privilege. We are flawed, a mashup of what evolution spat out of a species that conquered a globe and claimed ownership while causing mass extinction. Within us is understanding, but not without these deeply rooted instincts to hoard, to control and kill what we can’t control. And we’ll say it’s to be safe, to be organized and to have things make sense. But it’s because we are cowards who don’t want to be uncomfortable in an uncertain world.

When JK Rowling wrote a book about fighting against a system of injustice, she wrote a single villain and his henchpeople to defeat, instead of demanding change of an unequal system, because she has never lived being in a marginalized community. Instead she writes what she knows, protected, superior in her community, with special powers to control and harm others, in a secret world in the shadows where normal humans will never hold these special people accountable, only ever be victims. She doesn’t have the experience — the basic human empathy — to write a true hero of the people, never mind to be one, because she is too insulated by her class. She can’t even see the darkness in her own cowardly self.

And those who support her hate — for the fame, for the memes, because they like to hate and to feel sheltered by a righteous fandom that will protect them from the repercussions — they are very content to never grow as well. A society perpetuating the weakest of human character, insulating from change, attacking anyone who would demand they grow up and be better. That’s what the Harry Potter fandom has become. Pretending otherwise is just a fantasy. All you have to do is go online and see how this fandom harasses and attacks anyone who stands up against their bigotry.

This is who they are now. This is who JK Rowling is, and this is her fandom, comprised of tranphobes and bullies.

Yeah, it’s a shitty feeling being asked to grow up, to be a better version of yourself. Especially when most of the Harry Potter fans are of an older generation who is so certain they are grown. A generation catered to with all the toys, nostalgia, and petty, pretty little things consumerism can spoil them with. I’m of a generation so defined by marketing that we can’t even get a new movie out that isn’t full of some 40 something’s childhood fantasy to be a superhero.

Do you even understand how infantalizing that is? How pathetic that we are stuck playing childhood games pretending we have no power because these companies control us best this way? The world doesn’t ask us to be better because there are entire economies thriving on keeping us childlike and docile. So when a villain shows up — when someone in the real world is causing real, actual harm — it becomes about how to keep having the toys and childhood fantasies we love instead of telling that person to fuck off and stop causing harm. It becomes a negotiation of how to compromise with violence and bigotry, and I’m done playing this sick game.

Fuck off, JK Rowling. You don’t understand the bullshit you’re claiming to be science because you’re not a scientist. You aren’t qualified to talk on the human experiences you talk about because you have not experienced them. You don’t have the life experience to know anything about complex social situations because you never face the consequences of complex social situation, but instead fuck off to whatever castle you’re living in at the moment and have brunch with leaders of hate groups while you let your fans bully and harass anyone who calls you out. Your input is not wanted in regards to transgenderism. You are an outsider here, thinking you’re an insider because that’s the privilege you have lived your entire life with as a wealthy, white, cis AFAB, and no, that will never change. You don’t get to be the center of this conversation, no matter how much you think you should because “special”. The transgender community is not here to coddle you the way everyone else does. We don’t negotiate with terrorists, not even the ones holding our childhoods’ hostage. Fuck off; humanity has some growing to do.

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