Genre: LGBTQ+ Paranormal Romantic Murder Mystery
Bodie stood and offered
his hand as if it was the most natural thing to do.
"Come on. The aquarium staff is going home for the night. I'll walk you back to your car."
Zayne cocked his head sarcastically. "You don’t think I can take care of myself, detective?"
“It’s not that.”
“Oh, I get it. Porter and Harris told you to keep an eye on me.”
“Actually, they told me the opposite.”
“Then why are you doing all this? I mean, the ice cream, the aquarium, escorting me to my car.”
Zayne took a step closer to the young man still holding his hand. A burst of heat erupted in his chest. His skin felt like it was on fire. The scent of sandalwood swirling around him tempted him to give in to the undeniable need coursing through his body. Unable to resist, Zayne leaned even closer to the sexy detective.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was our first date, Detective Hale.”
Bodie’s expression remained unchanged, but he couldn’t hide the lovely shade of pink that was now coloring the tips of his ears.
Zayne's thumb drew slow, seductive circles on the back of Bodie's hand. He daringly slipped his long, elegant fingers between Bodie’s until their palms touched. When their grip tightened with a natural ease, his heart stuttered as Bodie's breathing quickened. Their intimately joined hands sent the most exquisite tremors rushing through his body.
"What are you doing?" Bodie whispered, his voice ragged.
"I don't know. But it feels right. Doesn't it?"
Zayne’s heart thrashed wildly inside his tight chest as Bodie lifted his free hand and cupped the side of his face. He could feel the calloused skin tenderly cradle the smooth skin of his cheek. Giving in to his body’s demands, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into Bodie’s warm hand.
"Zayne…we…we can't."
Zayne’s eyes shot open. He wrenched his hand free and took three quick steps back.
"I-I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what I..."
Bodie turned, heading for the exit, his head hung low. "It…It’s fine. Come on. Follow me."
Zayne couldn’t see the detective’s face. But he could read Bodie’s body language loud and clear.
What the hell came over him? Of course, Bodie would be disgusted. He’s a man, for god’s sake! A damn hot man who, even if he was gay, would never be interested in Zayne.
This is crazy! I’m not even gay! I’m not. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m not. I’m just tired, lonely, and fucking horny. I can’t even remember the last time I got laid. This is ridiculous. How am I going to look him in the eye after this? He probably hates my guts. He’ll probably tell the captain he can’t work with me anymore. Whatever. I didn’t want his help anyway.
“Are you coming?” Bodie asked.
But Zayne didn’t seem to hear him. He remained where he was, internally scolding himself for acting like a complete idiot. It wasn’t until he felt Bodie’s fingers threading through his that he snapped out of his bubble of self-loathing. He looked into the detective’s eyes, shocked to see a devilish satisfaction shadowed by a hint of hope in their golden depths.
“I’m not angry,” Bodie said softly, gently squeezing Zayne’s hand. “You’re tired and, just taking a guess here, hungry?”
Zayne nodded. Well, he may have read Bodie all wrong, but the detective knew exactly what he was feeling. It was nice—really nice—to finally be seen by someone. Granted, it was by a complete stranger, which was the damndest thing. Yet Bodie didn’t feel like a stranger. How was that possible? Had they met before?
“Alright then. We’ll stop for something on the way back to the station. But nothing greasy or spicy. You’ll have nightmares.”
Zayne gave Bodie a broken smile.
Oh, Detective Hale. You have no idea what a nightmare is. Trust me, junk food is the least of my worries.
Zayne could tell Bodie was trying to read his thoughts. The way a tiny wrinkle appeared between the detective’s brows and his pale eyes danced with questions had Zayne thinking hard about trusting this man with his secrets.
“Everything okay?” Bodie asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Well then, follow me.”
Zayne shook his head casually. “Not until you answer my question.”
“What question?”
“The one I asked earlier.”
“Ohhh. The one about why I’m doing all of this. That one?”
Giving Bodie an annoyed smile, Zayne replied, “Yes, that one. I mean, you’re a detective sent here to catch a serial killer. Shouldn’t you be out looking for clues or arresting suspects instead of buying me food and taking me to see fish?”
A smile borne from honesty lifted the corners of Bodie’s lips. “What can I say? I enjoy taking care of you. I like to see you smile. You should do it more often. It’s sexy.”
Eyes wide and heart racing, Zayne gulped down the words taking shape on his tongue. Bodie’s answer caught him off guard and left him wondering if he was dreaming.
“Come on,” Bodie whined, tugging on Zayne’s hand. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”
Of that simple fact, Zayne was now convinced.
“Where are we going?”
“Do you trust me?”
Zayne looked into Bodie’s unrelenting gaze and answered from his heart.
“Absolutely.”
Genre: LGBTQ+ Urban Fantasy, Norse Mythology
Caden Mitchell, a wolf shifter, thinks he’s on a mission to
stop a deadly weapons exchange. What he finds instead is a pair of silver eyes
and a body carved by sin. Erick Shaw is a struggling bartender whose scent has
awakened Caden’s lonely heart and ignited a fire in his dying soul. Drawn
together by an unknown and inexplicable familiarity, they will search for
answers as to why humans want Erick dead and shifters wish to possess him.
Caden Mitchell wasn’t supposed to
be here. It wasn’t supposed to be him sitting in this seedy strip club,
avoiding the advances of women he had no interest in. Initially, his head of
security had been assigned to this location. But, when they got a last-minute
tip about an illegal shipment of drugs arriving tonight down at the harbor,
Caden was forced to take the mission at the club while his associate followed
the lead at the docks.
It really was the best plan. Unfortunately, now he’s the one stuck sitting here in this hell of overstimulation instead of the quiet of his condo, reading a good book while enjoying a cup of tea.
The flashing, colorful lights around him make his eyes hurt. The loud music, if you can even call it that, feeds the headache clawing at the front of his skull. The pungent smell of the filthy carpet, the ripped vinyl seats, and the smoky air all trigger waves of nausea that churn his empty stomach. Everything about this place reeks of desperation and sex.
From the moment he sat down over an hour ago, Caden has kept his head and eyes down. He can’t afford to draw attention to himself if he wants to complete his mission. However, as he catches the scent of someone new walking through the doors, his head lifts slightly so his sharp eyes can follow the man he was sent here to observe, possibly capture, but most likely, kill.
His senses heighten as he watches his target casually approach the bar and order a beer. The man dressed in a blue suit too expensive for this cheap club turns to scan the crowd cautiously. Caden quickly lowers his head again and casually takes the final sip of bourbon from his glass. A minute ticks by before he looks up to zero in on his target again.
But instead of finding his prey, Caden is met with a pair of striking gray eyes staring back at him with an arousing playfulness.
He can’t look away. Even though his breaths remain slow and even, his heart rate accelerates like a racehorse out of a starting gate. The blood in his veins burns like fire beneath his skin, yet he keeps his expression shrouded with disinterest. Heated shivers ripple outwards through his body as his eyes catch the faint, mischievous smile taking shape on the bartender’s perfectly bowed lips. When the owner of those mystifying silver eyes begins walking toward him, Caden’s grip on the empty glass in his hand tightens.
Everything in the club fades to the background except for the man striding confidently to the small round table in the corner, where Caden waits, his sensitive ears listening to the steady beat of the bartender’s strong heart. His cobalt blue eyes catch every movement of the young man’s sinewy muscles beneath his black, skin-tight jeans and barely-there crimson red shirt. Everything about the bartender fascinates him. But it’s the innocent man’s scent that truly captivates him.
Caden has never smelled anything this heavenly before. The bartender’s fragrance is a potent blend of rosewood and sweat, compelling him to inhale deeply until he can taste it on his tongue. The combination is exhilarating, yet there’s something else subtly interwoven beneath it that draws him in like a siren’s song—something Caden believes he has smelled before but has been lost to him over time.
“What can I get you, handsome?” the bartender asks with a flirty tilt of his head.
Caden’s fingers itch to bury themselves in the man’s soft hair. The urge to pull on the strands at the root, baring the man’s neck to his teeth, has him clenching his jaw. He swallows stiffly as the bartender’s large, almond-shaped eyes openly travel up and down his body. They’re lined with endless rows of black lashes so thick that it gives the illusion that the young man is wearing eyeliner. It makes Caden want to see if the barkeep is as dangerous as he looks. His eyes drink in the young man’s bare arms, his mouth going dry when the sly minx of a man flexes his biceps. The bartender has veiled them, along with the sun-kissed flesh covering his exposed collarbones, with some sort of fine body glitter. The seductive man’s naked skin glistens with every breath he takes, every minute shift of his lean body, and all Caden wants to do is lick it off him.
When I was young, I read books to escape the small town I
grew up in. College, work, and family took me away from the stories I loved.
But in 2020, when everyone was isolated, my youngest daughter introduced me to
Japanese anime, and I fell into a hole I never want to leave. Fan fiction
showed me that anyone can create stories and share them with the world. Three
encouraging words from my best friend gave me the courage to write my first fan
fiction later that year. Not long after, I completed the series, A Soul's
Caress, my first original story but not my last. At 55, I now understand the
meaning of George Eliot's quote, "It's never too late to be what you might
have been.”
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