Incubus - Dark Fantasy - Horror - Action Romance #Romance #DarkFantasy #Horror #Action

Jonathan Wright is here to tell us about Incubus, a dark fantasy, horror, action romance.

Read on for details...

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Dark Fantasy/Horror Action Romance

Date Published: December 23, 2025

Publisher: ‎Changeling Press LLC

Life -- and love -- with a man who fights nightmares is bound to be… different.

Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing -- until she met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop running.

In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness -- Joe. The hard-as-nails woman becomes Joe’s willing sub -- his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but Sarah has even darker fantasies -- lurid, sensual and totally submissive. Sometimes, they even come to life.

Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure. Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Jonathan Wright

Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches, honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.

Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger. And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.

Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But this wasn’t really about Joe…

* * *

Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing… please, please, please.

Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free hand.

Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed heavily, staring at his cock.

“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made you scream my name.”

Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe to… rescue…

Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…

* * *

The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly spider arms reached for her…

Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.

* * *

Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.

Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?

She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths of his lair.

“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A ritual. A spell.

Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her back, presenting her full tits.

I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?

Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it. Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.

Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.

Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep stroking yourself!”

She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to obey. I want more!

“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”

Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard, pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes! Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”

She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart, driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came and…

* * *

Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched, groaning.

“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for anything else.”

Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.

Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.

Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that. Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.

Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”

 

About the Author

Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.

He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up with her because she makes great cookies.

We don't know why she puts up with him.

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The Skeleton Faerie - Children of the Death Gods #1 - Dark Fantasy - Fantasy - Mythology - and a Giveaway #DarkFantasy #Fantasy #Mythology #Giveaway

A.P. Mobley is here to tell us about The Skeleton Faerie, Children of the Death Gods #1, dark fantasy, fantasy, mythology.

There's also a great giveaway.

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The Skeleton Faerie

A.P. Mobley

(Children of the Death Gods, #1)

Publication date: November 8th 2025

Genres: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Mythology

Faerie folklore meets a nuclear postapocalypse in this dark mythological fantasy woven with secrets, treachery, and star-crossed love.

Ninety-nine years after the Nuclear War of 1989, twenty-one-year-old Gus Brandon should only be interested in the survival of humanity and the expansion of his compound. But he’s obsessed with legends from the distant past, superstitions of an expired people.

While searching forbidden ruins for the scraps of stories lost to time, he stumbles upon a mysterious young woman covered in scars. Her name is Saoirse, and their meeting sets off a bloody chain of events—one in which Gus discovers that the folklore he loves just might be real, and that it’s tied to mankind in ways he could have never imagined.

Soon the lines between myth and reality blur, as do the lines between realms.

Gus will have to rely on his knowledge—and Saoirse—to survive the horrors awaiting him… in this world and the next.

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EXCERPT:

When Gus and his teammates were a mere mile from the compound, the sun had almost finished setting, and the temperature had dropped significantly. A breeze grazed the back of his bare neck and arms, sending chills through his body. In every direction, all that was visible were trees, the only noises those of his and his companions’ boots and their animals’ hooves crunching against shriveled grass and fallen leaves. Occasionally, crows—some of them genetically altered, their feathers stained a pinkish color—flapped from branch to branch, their harsh caws piercing the quiet.

Maybe it was because of the extensive amount of folklore he’d been reading, but these days, the dark played tricks on Gus’s eyes, making him see monsters when nothing was there.

Nothing could be there, after all, as the stories he so loved weren’t real.

And even if there was a chance that they were real (and he knew there wasn’t), his compound was on the western side of a mountain range called the Black Hills, located within the fallen United States of America—far, far away from the places those magical tales took place.

Yet he still found himself imagining all manner of malevolent faeries prowling the woods at night. He saw them skulking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

In masses of collapsed cottonwoods, he imagined there were redcaps hiding, plotting to slaughter any stray travelers passing by.

In murders of crows, he imagined there were sluagh flying, scouring the forest floor for the next unlucky fellow whose soul they might devour.

In fast-moving streams, he imagined there were kelpies biding their time, anticipating the moment a person came close enough to drown and eat.

Thankfully, the logical side of his brain knew he had nothing to worry about—even as far as nonfictional threats went. The worst anyone on scavenge-duty had encountered in the last year was a couple of mountain lions and some rattlesnakes, and although he and his teammates had never run into anything like that, they knew how to take care of it as easily as the other people of the compound had: with bullets.

No one left the compound without a loaded gun and extra ammo.

Gus and his team were safe.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and if it weren’t for the smog blanketing the sky (a lingering effect of the Nuclear War, which the elders said should clear up any decade now), the moon and stars might have lit up the night. The temperature fell even further, clouds of breath filling the air in front of Gus’s face and fogging up his glasses.

“Guess we should have packed our coats,” Nancy remarked as she walked in front of Gus, guiding her pig along. She began to shiver. “I hate when the weather gets like this. Hot during the day, cold at night.”

Twigs cracked to the left. Hand flying to his holster, Gus looked that way, his goat bleating, Nancy’s pig squealing.

A flash of movement in the trees, there and gone in an instant.

“What the . . . ?” Oliver tossed his bundle of birds over his shoulder and retrieved his flashlight, his teeth chattering. He and Adam stood several feet to Gus’s right. “Did you guys see that?”

Adam drew his handgun. “Probably a mountain lion. We’re almost home, so just keep your eyes peeled and your weapons ready.”

“Maybe speed it up a little too,” Gus added, and he and Nancy pulled out their handguns. The team continued toward the compound.

Not five minutes had passed before more branches snapped behind them. Again, the goat bleated, and the pig squealed.

Everyone swung around, preparing to shoot. Oliver shined his flashlight into the trees.

The glow revealed a creature that made Gus’s skin prickle with goose bumps.

Author Bio:

A. P. Mobley is the Halloween-loving, rock-music-obsessed author of dark fantasy inspired by mythology. She doesn’t only write about her favorite myths, folktales, and fairy tales in books, though; she discusses them on her podcast, Myths (& Folktales & Fairy tales), as well as on her blog and newsletter. She grew up in Wyoming and Nebraska and currently lives in South Dakota, and when she’s not up to her elbows in research for her next project, she can be found consuming dangerous amounts of coffee, reading speculative fiction, or rewatching The Good Place.

Never miss an update from A. P. by signing up for her newsletter. Full list of books and Content Warnings on her website.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok / Newsletter

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Conventions of Dragons - LGBTQ Dark Fantasy - Polyamorous - Shapeshifters #LGBTQ #DarkFantasy #Polyamorous #Shapeshifters

Emily Carrington is here to tell us about Conventions of Dragons, an LGBTQ polyamorous dark fantasy featuring shapeshifters.

Read on for details...

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LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Polyamorous, Shapeshifters

Date Published: October 31, 2025

When duty calls, where will the heart go?

Joel’s twin has been hurt, and Joel decides to stay with him rather than join his new lovers across the sea. But fate, and a serial killer, have other plans.

Parisa and Noah are drifting apart and without Joel they might lose everything they’ve built.

Can this new throuple fight together to win their happiness or will evil triumph?

EXCERPT

 

“Hooo-elll…”

It was Parisa’s voice, but he couldn’t touch her physically or telepathically. All Joel’s senses were blurred.

Joel wasn’t sure if he’d passed out, but everything was foggy. Not dark, since he had no concept of light beyond the meaning of the word, but misty. It was like the fog that clung to his face and arms, to his hearing and sense of smell when he’d visited England thirty years ago. He’d never forget that sensation of everything being muffled. The sound of his own voice had been right, but the tapping of his cane tip on the cobblestones in London had been oddly removed from the rest of him. He’d actually fallen a couple of times in London, not because he couldn’t feel the ground but because he had tried too hard to rely on the sound of his cane to tell him the depth of things like cracks and steps.

Now, although the sense of being wrapped in cotton persisted, he felt even more cut off from the world because he was really two people. He couldn’t attend to his own movements or speech while living in Jules’s head. Especially not when Jules was so distant from the world. His whole spirit seemed caught up in confusion and fear. So although Joel and Jules sometimes lived in each other’s heads for brief moments, there had never been such a fundamental separation from physical reality.

Dimly, he could feel a hand caressing his face. He tried to reach up and catch those fingers, but his arms felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. He attempted another connection with Jules, one that would allow him to communicate more than just his confusion and to feel Jules’s sense of dislocation. That, too, failed.

Someone spoke then, their voice cutting through the fog. “Joel.” It was James, the dragon guarding him. “Joel, come back. Follow me if you’re turned around.”

He clung to those words and finally managed, by trailing after them in the psychic world, to reestablish himself in the realm of touch, hearing, and scent.

The person caressing his face paused and Parisa asked, “Can you hear me, Joel?”

“Yes,” he croaked, his throat dry.

“Drink,” she answered, and he opened his mouth, unsure if he would feel a glass against his lips or her cupped hand. He registered the water as cool and drank as palmfuls were brought to his lips. From where he’d heard Parisa’s voice, he’d expected the water to come from another angle. Maybe Noah was actually giving him the refreshing liquid.

“James?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“He’s not here,” Parisa said, “although I heard him too. It was like he somehow tapped into a telepathy that could be carried to more than one person.”

“Are either of you hurt?” Joel asked.

“No,” Parisa answered after a moment. He wondered what caused the hesitation. Then she explained. “Noah is shell-shocked, I think. He’s --”

“I’m fine,” Noah said firmly. “Just… sorry about…”

Struggling to raise his head, Joel felt hands tighten on his shoulders. He fought down the instantaneous panic that clawed at his throat. “Unless there’s a reason for me to be lying on my back,” he said as gently as he could manage, “I’d rather sit up.”

The hands released him and as he sat up, crossing his legs, he felt Parisa’s breath on his shoulder blade. He was still naked. He shivered and instinctively pulled his legs up to shield his stomach and softer bits. He wasn’t afraid of Parisa or Noah, but he felt vulnerable. “What happened?”

“There was an explosion,” Noah said, and he did sound a little shocky because his voice trembled. “Over at the other house, we think.”

“Definitely not here,” Parisa put in. “Do either of you need a towel? There aren’t robes in here, and I don’t think we should leave the bathroom until we get the all-clear.”

So, that was why his bare butt was on tile. “Did you two carry me in here?”

Again, there was that momentary pause. Then Parisa said, “I helped Noah and carried you, yes.”

Their location made sense even if nothing else did. As far as Joel knew, the bathroom might be the only room in the smaller house without windows.

Not like the one that had blown inward, injuring Jules.

He shivered as that realization, sent by his twin, hit him. Jules didn’t actually know it had been a window, but he’d had glass taken out of his arm so he’d made an educated guess. Joel said, “Soon as we can, I need to get to Jules. Something’s seriously wrong with him.”

“Can you feel him?” Parisa asked, her hand warm on his back.

“Not now but…” He shivered again, unable to help himself. “He was muffled, or that’s what it felt like. Like having your head wrapped in a blanket.”

Noah began, “Did he --”

Someone interrupted, throwing open the door. “Here they are,” said James, his voice tight.

“Good,” said a voice that came out slightly tinny. “Help is on the way but it’s a good hour out. See if you can move them to this building.”

“Will do.” James crouched, his voice coming from off to Joel’s right. “Are any of you hurt?”

Joel shook his head. “I’m fine. It didn’t happen here.” He reached out toward James’s voice, but Parisa caught his hand.

“Agent Tavery,” she said softly, “you’re bleeding.”

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

 

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Hawthorne University Witch Prequel Series - Dark Fantasy - Paranormal Romance - Romantasy - and a Giveaway #Romance #DarkFantasy #ParanormalRomance #PNR #Romantasy #Giveaway

A.L. Hawke is here to tell us about Hawthorne University Witch, Prequel Series, dark fantasy, paranormal romance, and romantasy.

There's also a great giveaway.

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Cursed the moment I fell in love with her.

Walpurgis

The Hawthorne University Witch Prequel Series Book 3

by A.L. Hawke

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Romantasy

Burn the Witch.

Allie and I were meant to have a future together—one built on love, not fear. But here in Hawthorne, shadows lengthen, and whispers drift through the woods like curses. So when Alondra falls mysteriously ill, I know exactly who’s behind it.

Desperation drags me into the darkest corners of my magic—places where I no longer fear the spells I once vowed never to cast. Even joining a coven of the wicked no longer feels like betrayal. The deeper I descend, the more I uncover about the witch who haunts me… and the shadow that may not belong to her alone.

Walpurgis Night approaches—the night witches burn. But what happens when it’s the warlock who strikes the match… willing to burn everything—my heart, my soul—to save the one I love?

 

**New Release! On Sale for Only $2.99 until 10/31!**

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 Book of Shadow

The Hawthorne University Witch Prequel Series Book 2 

Cursed the moment I fell in love with her.

While home in Raleigh for semester break, I didn’t expect my girlfriend, Alondra, to ask me for a favor: present my Book of Shadows to the leader of a satanic cult. She was looking for a new male witch for her coven. Of course, she knew it wouldn’t be me.

But when a curse took hold of our college campus—and the spirits I thought I’d left behind came back—I realized I couldn’t keep the book closed much longer.

Now something dark surrounds me. Is it the work of the wizard with the devilish goatee? Or is it a little girl possessed by something far worse?

I lit a dark shadow, and now I feel only confusion. Whatever this darkness is, it’s coming for Alondra, our family, and every witch in Hawthorne.

  

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**Only .99cents 10/20 – 10/31!**

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Alondra

The Hawthorne University Witch Prequel Series Book 1

I fell in love with a goth, but she’s a witch.

Starting school at Hawthorne University was not going well, until I met my classmate Alondra. Allie was different. She was goth. But she was also mysterious, confident and fun. I was into that. My name’s Liam. My friends call me Lee.

Things got weird after I accompanied her to her haunts. Poltergeists and demons attacked little girls. I watched Alondra help exorcise these ghosts, but some of their evil stuck to me.

Well, being attracted to a witch was one thing; dating one was quite another. It seemed the closer I got to Allie, the more her witchcraft endangered my friends. And my soul. You decide. I chronicled everything here in her book.

Bookfunnel * Bookbub * Goodreads

A.L. Hawke is the author of the bestselling Hawthorne University Witch series. The author lives in Southern California torching the midnight candle over lovers against a backdrop of machines, nymphs, magic, spice & mayhem.

 

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Hawthorne University Witch Prequel Series

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Medically Necessary - LGBTQ Romance - Dark Fantasy - Steamy #Romance #LGBTQ #LGBTQRomance #DarkFantasy #Steamy

Emily Carrington is here to tell us about Medically Necessary, an LGBTQ steamy, dark fantasy romance.

Read on for details...

________________________

LGBTQ Romance, Dark Fantasy, Steamy

Date Published: October 10, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press

The threat to all werewolves draws Amir and Oliver together, even as their wounds threaten to rip them apart.

Trust is Earned (Medically Necessary 1): Amir is a General Practitioner for magical creatures, particularly werewolves. When the leader of all werewolves comes to him with a problem that presents like psychosis, Amir needs help. Oliver’s nursing a grieving heart and a chip on his shoulder. Still, when Amir asks for his help, he jumps at the chance. The submissive wolf is beautiful.

Trust is Fraught (Medically Necessary 2): As the leader of the werewolves sinks further into insanity, Amir and Oliver fight prejudice and time to rescue their alpha. As Oliver and Amir are pulled deeper into the dangers of the psychic world, their love may be the only thing keeping them sane.

Trust is Sacred (Medically Necessary 3): Oliver’s terrible secret is eating him alive. Amir thinks purging and confession are medically necessary for spiritual and physical well-being, but Oliver will stop at almost nothing to hide his scars.

 

Can either of them learn to trust?

 

EXCERPT

 

Excerpt from Trust is Earned

He had tended to different members of the Tilthos and Merle werewolf packs over the years. Being positioned in southern Erie County, located in Upstate New York, had been the best thing he could do for his medical practice. Once he’d finally convinced Nicholas Black of the Merle pack in Buffalo, New York, to work with him as the werewolf equivalent of a midwife, his office was often full to bursting with pregnant female werewolves.

And it didn’t matter one bit that he spoke Werewelsh, the native language of most werewolves, with an accent or as only his fourth language. For Dr. Amir Othman, the prejudice he might have encountered because of his unusual parentage and his even more unique upbringing was all overshadowed by one truth. He was good at his job.

That didn’t make him less nervous to meet the alpha above all alphas. Tilthos Charles, alpha of his own pack and leader of the wolves of North and South America, was supposedly intimidating. All of which pointed to this truth: while Amir had healed every magical creature from djinns to kelpies, and even two dragons, he still worried about doing or saying the wrong thing in Tilthos Charles’s presence.

What bothered him even more was that he almost qualified as a lone wolf. A “packless loner,” in werewolf-speak, and that was not a compliment. He had a technical pack, run by Kreisha Alexander. When that particular alpha threw his weight around, everyone obeyed. Thankfully, that pack was in Washington, DC, nearly two hundred miles away. So, unless Alpha Alexander gave him an edict directly over the phone, as opposed to in an email or via snail mail, Amir could basically do as he chose.

Except, now the alpha above all alphas was coming to his office and would surely demand to know why he hadn’t switched his allegiance to a pack up here in New York. “It doesn’t have to be mine,” the most powerful werewolf on the planet would say, “but it can’t be you operating under your own aegis.”

So, when his assistant, Carly, sent him a message that Tilthos Charles was here, Amir’s pulse picked up. He responded to her message, saying he’d be in Exam Room Three in under five minutes. Then he did a deep breathing exercise, using the five senses trick he’d learned as a young wolf when he first realized he wanted to become a doctor and would be around blood and anxious magical creatures.

Five things he could see. His fidgety hands. By crossing his eyes, he could see his nose. His computer screen, which held everything his clinic had on the alpha above all alphas. Trying to look farther away in an attempt to slow his racing heart, he looked at the carpet in front of his desk. It was a boring brown that didn’t hold his attention. Finally, he looked at the door where he’d hung a poster of a Great Pyrenees, which was the closest breed to his family’s wolf forms, which were usually white.

Four things he could hear… The thudding of his heart. The rush of blood in his veins, which meant he was really keyed up still because even though he was a werewolf with acute hearing, he didn’t usually pay attention to the sounds of his own or others’ bodies. He struggled hard to refocus and heard the buzzing of the fluorescent light in the ceiling. He needed one more thing, so he made his chair creak. Oddly, the sound of something he could completely control helped him breathe a little easier.

Three things he could touch… The pen in his hand, which he’d been nervously twirling. He set it down. The feel of the chair under him, with his suit coat slung over the back. He could also feel his toes in his shoes. He breathed in more deeply than he’d managed so far and felt still a bit better.

Two things he could smell… He could no longer smell adrenaline. That was a good thing. He lifted his hand to his nose and smelled the soap he’d washed with maybe ten minutes ago.

And one thing he could taste, which was his cold lavender matcha latte.

Glancing at the clock icon on his computer, he saw it had been almost three minutes. Well, it was now or never. He doubted he’d be calmer if he sat here longer. So, he stood, straightened his white medical coat, and left the office. He listened to people talking quietly in the waiting room as he passed. He smiled at Carly, who mouthed, “Good luck.” Then he knocked on the door of Exam Room Three.

“Please come in.”

The voice that had responded was lightly accented, and he wondered why no one had ever told him Tilthos Charles was Hispanic. Then he was in the room, and he saw there were two people inside. The werewolf was certainly Tilthos Charles and the psychic vampire… Oh, yes. Tilthos Charles’s mate was a psychic vampire.

The alpha wolf sat on the exam table and his mate stood at his side. It was actually the psychic vampire who moved first, holding out his hand. “Dr. Othman, I’m Luis McLaughlin.”

Amir shook with him and then offered his hand to the burly werewolf. He saw the wolf’s eyes flicker quickly down to his hand and then away. Then his hand was taken and Tilthos Charles said, “Please to meet you, Dr. Othman.”

He sounded it too, but there was something bothering him. Well, and didn’t that make sense? Folks who were completely healthy rarely came to the doctor’s office.

“The pleasure is mine,” Amir returned, smiling at both of them. Then he retreated until he could sit on his stool. He watched Tilthos Charles’s eyes try to focus on him. “Forgive me, but while I have some information about your general health, I know very little about your visual impairment.”

He saw his guess had been right, that the alpha above all alphas indeed had something wrong with his vision.

“I told you he’d know,” said Luis as his mate brought out a folded white cane from behind his back.

“Forgive me the test, Dr. Othman,” said Charles, “but I’ve been seen by too many doctors who miss the obvious until I point it out to them.” He settled the cane on his leg, keeping one hand on it so it wouldn’t fall. “We’re here today, not because of my visual impairment, which has been unchanged since I was born, but because Luis is convinced there’s something…” He hesitated.

Luis said, “He’s distracted and agitated.”

Amir watched Charles’s nostrils flare and his pupils dilate. “I’m on edge because Agent Sowerby’s… Shit. I must be off-balance somehow if I’m about to spill state secrets.” He smiled ruefully at Amir. “Forgive me. Luis is right. I just can’t figure out how you’ll help me or if there is any help for the mess we’re about to be in.”

“May I examine you?”

Charles nodded.

Amir went through all the basics, including sending the alpha werewolf out to give him a urine sample. When the door closed, he turned to Luis. “How long has he been on edge?” He could smell the wolf’s almost panic.

“About three weeks. “

“Did anything precipitate his anxiety?”

Luis sighed. “I’m not sure what’s really private. I assume you’re bound by medical confidentiality?”

“I am.” He could see the psychic vampire hesitating. “Please tell me everything you can. I cannot be effective while only possessing half the facts.”

“My mate holds the belief that the head of SearchLight is going to expose all magical creatures.”

Amir’s mouth went dry. “I know Tilthos Charles probably has the ear of SearchLight. Is he correct?”

“Absolutely not, but I can’t convince him of that.”

“Has he talked to…” He couldn’t remember the name of the new head of SearchLight, only that Agent Weinberg had stepped down.

“I’ve tried getting Jack Sowerby to talk to him. No dice. Not that Agent Sowerby wouldn’t, but Charlie didn’t believe him.”

Amir held up his hand. The bathroom door had creaked open. He turned his head toward the exam room’s entrance for good measure.

Tilthos Charles entered. “Your assistant took my sample.”

Amir said soothingly, “Please, Alpha, sit down.”

He saw his words had the opposite effect to what he’d intended. Instead of resting on the table again, Tilthos Charles drew himself up. He was taller than Amir by half a foot and intimidating as hell.

Sitting on his stool, making himself as nonthreatening as possible, Amir put his hands palms up on his thighs. “I mean you no harm.”

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

 

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Immortal Heat - BDSM Romance - Gay - Dark Fantasy #Romance #BDSM #BDSMRomance #Gay #DarkFantasy

Kira Stone is here to tell us about Immortal Heat, BDSM romance, gay, dark fantasy.

Read on for details...

_____________________

 

 

BDSM Romance, Gay, Dark Fantasy

Date Published: May 9, 2025

 

 

Three vampires battle the lives they left behind to build a future out of the ashes of their pasts.

 

Immortal Steps: Tain, a renowned Celtic dancer, has bitter memories of his first crush and the trainer who left him without a word. For years he's flung himself from one brief romantic encounter to another, the subject of tabloid gossip and speculation, always insisting he's not gay. When Kyle, Tain's old mentor, comes back into Tain's life, the last thing Tain wants is to give the man, or the vampire, a place in his heart.

Hidden Depths: Pat's devoted his life to locating the wreck of The Pelican's Flight, sunk in 1692, along with forty other ships, when the infamous town of Port Royal slid into the Caribbean. Jamie lost more than his lover when The Pelican went down. Pat offers Jamie hope at finding his ship, along with a chance at rediscovering love. Will the secrets they share bring them together? Or tear them apart?

Vampires In Heat: Humans in Seattle are dying as a result of domestic cat vampires and demonesses working together. The latest victim is Erron's neighbor and best friend. Nolan, the leader of Seattle's Pacifistic Vampire Clan, and Erron, an albino who is commonly mistaken for a vampire, team up with the cat vamp leader to find the rogues who are killing needlessly and trying to discredit vampire-kind. And just maybe, between them, they'll find more than a remedy for this vampire scourge -- like love!

Publisher's Note: Immortal Steps, Vampires In Heat, and Hidden Depths have been previously published as stand alone novellas.

 

 

EXCERPT

Excerpt from Immortal Steps

Alone, Kyle Lohan entered his private balcony at the Grampian Theater in Edinburgh, Scotland. As he sat down, the house lights dimmed briefly to signal a two minute warning before the show began. The box smelled faintly of sex, although he doubted anyone without a vampire's heightened senses could detect the erotic scent. Regardless, it was his own fault for sneaking in to watch rehearsals the previous evening. He'd been unable to resist tugging his cock in time with the heavy beat of the dancers as they practiced.

Okay, not all the performers excited him. Just one.

Tain O'Halloran.

Tonight Kyle had better prepared for the public performance, or so he'd thought. The quick release during his shower should have calmed his libido enough to sit through the performance without a hard-on. But as the first strains of a flute solo poured across the stage, the anticipation proved to be more than his body could resist and his cock rose to an aching fullness.

Tain. On stage. His stage.

How long had he waited for this? Worked for this? Dreamed of this? Sometimes it seemed like forever. And yet, very soon, the moment he'd been preparing for would arrive. One way or another, he would finally end his long pursuit.

He adjusted the fit of his tuxedo pants as the chorus sprinted across the stage. Their shoes hit the wooden floor in rhythmic, staccato beats, flirting with the notes. Kyle couldn't stop his own feet from scuffing against the floor in a pale imitation of the dancers' fancy footwork. Had his heart been prone to beat, it would have been racing as fast as the music.

A few more seconds...

Then, appearing out of a flash of light and smoke, bam! There he was. Tain O'Halloran. The male lead's long, sleek black hair floated behind him as he bounced in perfect synchronization with the little blond at his side. His grey eyes flashed with pure joy and a little arrogance. A smile curved his thin pink lips. And what that black leather did for his ass...

Kyle groaned softly as his cock twitched with longing, but he refused to slake his lust. Privacy wasn't an issue, even during a public performance. No, nothing mattered more than soaking up every moment of this night to tuck away in his memories. If the evening didn't go as planned, this could be all he had left to remember the talented young man come morning.

The first dance ended, and Kyle felt the tightness in his chest ease as Tain exited stage right. He'd reappear several times throughout the performance.

Kyle itched with anticipation for the next time, and the next... and the next... By the second act, Kyle could pick out Tain's unique sweat from the morass of odors permeating the air. The scent teased his cock like nothing else. His whole body tensed as he imagined jumping over the balcony's rail to land on top of the dancer's young bones, then fucking him to within an inch of his life, claiming him on stage for all the world to see.

Well, that's one way to announce that you're back in his life, Kyle thought with a rueful shake of his head. Definitely not one of your brightest ideas though.

If anything, such a bold, stupid move would get him thrown out of Tain's life for good. Kyle's goal was quite the opposite. If he had his way, nothing would separate him from Tain ever again.

The show ended with a roar of applause that pulled the dancers back on stage for a second encore. Vibrant and smiling under the lights, Tain looked like he could hold out for a third reprise if the director let him. However, the rest of the troupe wasn't fairing as well, so when the curtains closed again the house lights came up.

The show was over, but Kyle's performance of a lifetime was about to begin.

About the Author

Kira Stone has been around the block…the writer’s block, that is.

From vamps and witches to historical heroes, from futuristic scientists to paranormal corporate executives, from Canadian werewolves to off-world shifters, Kira has written about them all. Manlove has sparked hot and heavy in many of her plots, but Kira also finds a lucky lady to keep the sexy heroes company from time to time. While Scotland remains her favorite place in the world, Kira is constantly in search of new adventures to add to the creative primordial ooze where her best stories are born.

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