Tag Archives: Emily Carrington

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | April 16, 2025 · 5:00 am

Earth’s Passion Blitz

LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Steamy

Date Published: April 18, 2025

As their need for each other grows, so does the danger.

Kailee and Tom are falling for each other, but their secrets continue to
come between them. Kailee’s afraid to show her physical scars, while
Tom dreads his lover will discover the power those he still calls Master and
Mistress hold over him.

Dragon and werewolf must join together in every way to defeat those who
would dominate Tom and kill Kailee.

EXCERPT

Kailee had been lying next to Tom for close to twenty minutes. Her new
dragon lover was fast asleep, and she knew she should be resting too.
Instead, she was filled with joy and an incautious sense of promise that she
hadn’t felt in years.

Tom rolled over, draping his arm over her waist. Kailee wriggled a little
as the urge to pee made itself known. A deeper craving drew at her
also.

“Are you okay?” Tom mumbled. Then he stiffened.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He pulled his
arm off her.

She turned over, snuggling in close. “I like it when you touch me. I
just… I need to get up and use the bathroom.” It was true, but
her ulterior motive was to take so long that he fell back to sleep, and she
could go outside.

“I’ll wait up for you,” he said, slurring his words a
little.

Kailee kissed his temple. “Go to sleep. I’ll be back in a
moment.”

His eyes were already closed. As she watched, he lost the tension in his
limbs and the worry lines on his face smoothed out. He began to snore.

She waited another five minutes, to make sure he was well and truly under.
He’d had a sucky, hard life and she thought he hadn’t probably
slept well for large parts of it. Knowing he was safe here, that she would
protect him, made her smile.

She got up, padding to the bathroom after putting on the clothes
she’d worn before they made love. Once in the bathroom, she unzipped
her jeans. As much as she felt one hundred percent female most of the time,
she still enjoyed the simple pleasure of peeing while standing up.

When she was finished, she flushed, zipped up, and washed her hands. Then,
moving silently, not wanting to wake anyone up because this pack already
knew everyone else’s business as it was, she went to the mudroom, put
on her boots, and made her way out of the back door into the gloriously dark
night. It was a waxing crescent moon tonight, about four days from the first
quarter, and with so little light coming from that celestial orb, the
darkness was close as a passionate lover, full of kindness. Like Tom.

She wrapped her arms around her chest, which was flat without the boobs she
usually wore. That felt a little awkward but for this one moment, she was
able to dismiss the feeling. She’d needed to embrace herself for pure
joy’s sake. She’d been so very alone for damn near half her
life, relying on gentleness and understanding from those who were either
hired professionals or simply much older than she was and thus not quite as
in touch with their wolflinghood as she could have wished. Maybe it was
foolish to assume someone closer to her own age would have “gotten
it,” her experiences and suffering. Still, because Tom understood, and
only after so short a time, she thought the idea had slight merit.

Wanting to make some sort of noise to express herself, she began to sing.
It was a simple song in Werewelsh, her first language. She’d grown up
surrounded by the language developed by werewolves for their own kind, and
although other people spoke it now, it remained mostly shared among the ones
who had to change at the full moon. Werewolves largely did, though, and she
was, first and foremost, a wolf.

She translated in her head as she sang, loving the poetry even though it
didn’t rhyme in English.

Moon of darkness, moon of light,

Moon of power and strength.

Moon of my heart, full and wise,

Be with me tonight.

Probably, she thought as her joy crested but didn’t recede, I’m
being foolish. He hasn’t even said he loves me.

That was true but what made her heart sing was a simple truth, not
complicated by whether Tom wanted to be her mate or not. “In all
honesty,” she whispered to the night that seemed to be listening,
“I never thought anyone could see past my scars and love me
anyway.”

All right, so he hadn’t actually seen her physical scars, her dead
name carved into her chest with a silver knife and made to stay because of
silver powder. She hadn’t been quite that brave. Still, Tom knew she
had a reputation, that she’d killed, and he hadn’t pulled away.
Wasn’t that worthy of ecstasy?

She closed her eyes and resumed her singing. Now she sang a song of how the
sky so loved the moon that he bid her to cross from one edge to the other so
he might admire her beauty. The moon’s response Kailee sang too,
reveling in the way the moon demanded something in return: to see the stars
scattered before her like diamonds.

Once again, her joy crested until it filled her chest. She broke out in a
light sweat. That was when she became aware that the exhilaration she felt
wasn’t hers alone.

Wary because she’d been influenced by outsider forces before,
although less directly or psychically, she mounted her defenses and scanned
the area with her telepathy, seeking the source of the external, pushy
force.

At first, she felt nothing and no one. Widening her circle of ability, she
fumbled in the darkness of the in-between that existed in the psychic world.
Reaching, reaching, she felt a half-familiar mind.

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.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

Earth’s Craving Blitz

LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Steamy

Date Published: February 21, 2025

When werewolf and dragon meet, will their need for each other defeat all
their well-intentioned plans?

Tom, a land dragon, is so large he’s earned the nickname
“Earth.” His dragon herd takes advantage of him until he’s
sold to a pair of basilisks. Unfortunately for them, Tom’s mating
plans don’t include repopulating the basilisk species. Time to make
his escape…

Kailee, psychic disaster and frightened “rehabilitated”
werewolf, is new to adulting, but she’s been through enough to make
her a force to be reckoned with. Transgender, she is burdened with not one,
but three psychic abilities. The overabundance of power tends to make her a
little off-balance…

Will Kailee be able to protect Tom from those hunting him? Can Tom learn to
trust? Or will their need for each other defeat all their well-intentioned
plans?

EXCERPT

Tom fled through the forest, staying low to the ground, or as low as a
person who stood over six feet could manage without crawling. He needed to
keep his feet because —

He flashed back to when the matriarch had cut off his left foot to keep him
from escaping again. It had grown back, of course. He was a dragon. Still,
it had hurt, and he sometimes woke in the middle of the night with phantom
pain reminding him how he’d suffered.

He didn’t have a very good sense of direction, but it was a sunny
day, early in the morning, and the sun came up in the east. So, just as long
as he kept the sun on his left, he’d assumed he’d be generally
heading south. Out of Canada. He’d grown up here but all he knew about
the country where he’d been imprisoned was that it was north of the
United States.

He was grateful his shedding was over for another six months. His escape
would have been impossible while he was struggling through the twice-a-year
loss of his scales.

He heard other dragons flying above him and huddled against a tree, hoping
the darkness of his skin would blend with the shadows. He wasn’t
exactly dressed for a late December winter when the temperatures around Nova
Scotia lingered just above freezing most days. He wouldn’t freeze to
death… probably. As long as he kept moving, he’d be all right.
Just now, though, stillness was required. He shut his eyes, fearing that his
anxiety had turned his irises yellow-green. They might be spotted by someone
with a searchlight.

He wondered briefly if the female dragons had employed some of their males
to help. Most of the males were treated better than he was, although not
equal to the females. The large majority would do as they were told because
they weren’t required to stand stud all year, just when the females
wanted them.

Probably most of the other male dragons were grateful for his existence. He
was an anomaly, but one that the females liked. Bigger and stronger than any
other dragon he’d ever met, he’d been conditioned since birth.
He’d been born larger and the hopes for his future progeny had been
high. Hell, they were still high even though only about one third of the
dragons he sired were of greater size when they were born. He’d only
been at this enslavement stud service for a year and a half, so none of his
children were more than a year old.

It was as if, when the dragons and werewolves had split off from their
basilisk parentage, they’d been cursed to all stand at the exact same
height in either human guise or scaly form. Five feet, ten inches was the
height of almost every other dragon he’d heard of when they walked on
two feet. With their talons and tails, they stood eight feet tall.

Tom was six-two sometimes, and others, he was ten feet tall. Being larger
than most dragons should have been an advantage. Having increased strength
could have helped if there weren’t so many damn males and females
alike ready to take him down.

The sounds overhead faded and he hesitated, not wanting to leave his hiding
place. Yet, what good would it do him to stay here? They’d send out
hunters on foot if necessary.

So, biting his lips almost hard enough to draw blood, he crept away from
the tree and started running again. He skirted around a meadow and kept
going, adrenaline making him thirsty even as it lent his muscles
endurance.

The sun had been up for an hour before he judged it safe to stop and drink.
He’d been hearing a river nearby for about the last ten minutes and
that burbling, overly cheery sound made him long for water.

He broke from the game trail he’d been following and found an
offshoot that led in the correct direction. When he came upon the river, he
was relieved to see a rocky bank where he could get right down close to the
water and drink his fill.

He crawled to the edge of the river, listening hard. He heard nothing
except the twittering of birds and the chittering of squirrels. Well, and
the rushing of the water, of course. It was a deep stream, not quite the
river he’d been envisioning based on the amount of noise it was
making. He slipped his hands into the icy cold water.

Hands seized him roughly by his hair.

Without thought, he shifted to his scaly form to lose that grip. His
clothes, rags now, fell away as he tried for the sky.

Three dragons, brown and orange, like him, male, like him, each two feet
smaller, crashed into him. From below came a howl of triumph and something
sharp sliced through his wing’s membrane.

He screamed as he fell.

About the Author

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

Comments Off on Earth’s Craving Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ

Tagged as dark fantasy, Earth's Craving, Emily Carrington, LGBTQ, Steamy

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | December 10, 2024 · 5:00 am

Trust is Sacred Teaser Tuesday

(Medically Necessary 3)

LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Steamy

Date Published: December 13, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

Without trust, nothing is sacred. Not even long-held beliefs.

Oliver’s terrible secret is eating both himself and his would-be mate
alive. He and Amir have been apart for three months, and absence indeed
makes the heart grow fonder. Unfortunately, there’s terror, pain, and
deceit lying between them.

Amir thinks purging and confession are medically necessary for spiritual
and physical well-being. Oliver will stop at almost nothing to hide his
scars.

Can these two be mated in truth or will Oliver’s past and
Amir’s unstated fears push them away before the werewolves’ most
sacred holiday, Winter Solstice?

Excerpt

August

In a very real sense, Oliver’s heart hadn’t ached this way in
years. It was a mixture of longing and a sweet promise of eventual
homecoming. He’d just sent his lover away on an airplane, back to New
York. Amir would gather together his staff, choose a new doctor to take over
his practice, and then be back down here to live with Oliver.

To become Oliver’s mate.

Werewolves didn’t have spouses. Except when they did. They also
didn’t have Life Dancers. That was a psychic vampire thing, knowledge
Oliver had gained over the last month. Wolves had mates, a name for their
beloved, the person with whom they wanted to spend the rest of their
lives.

He’d had a mate before. This time would be different. He’d
protect his mate. He’d keep him safe, no matter the cost, and he
wouldn’t allow his nightmares to drive them apart. To shove his lover
toward the singular choice of suicide.

He pulled up in front of Llosgia Maxine’s house, where his heart told
him he belonged. Granted, she hadn’t exactly accepted her title of
alpha, or the duties commensurate with that status change. She would,
though. He had faith. Well, mostly he had faith. Sometimes he worried that
Tilthos Charles’s words would come true and Llosgia Maxine would
choose to take up no title at all.

Except, of course, she’d already claimed Director of Werewolf Watch
for herself. Maybe she couldn’t take on that responsibility
and…

The front door opened and Tilthos Charles stepped out, looking even
stronger than he had the night before, when he’d arrived at Llosgia
Maxine’s and asked for a place for himself and his lover to sleep.
Now, in the dimness of false dawn, the alpha above all alphas
shouldn’t have been able to use his limited vision to see more than a
car approaching. However, that didn’t seem to be the case because he
smiled and waved as if he knew exactly who was arriving.

Oliver considered driving away. He didn’t want to hear the political
answer as to why the Kreisha pack was still allowed to exist after all the
shit three of its members had pulled. Geoffrey Huntington, Noah Travers, and
Josiah Cobb had plotted to drive Tilthos Charles mad. They had made it so
hearing his rightful title had caused him physical and psychic pain.
They’d forced him to attack his lover, Luis. Now, though, surely
Tilthos Charles was coming to tell him they’d been forgiven for some
fucked-up political reason that boiled down to the alpha above all
alphas… what? Didn’t want to kill? That might just be it.

The alpha above all alphas’ soft voice was in his head suddenly. Open
the door, Oliver.

Oliver unlocked the doors. He waited for the alpha above all alphas to sit
beside him, or order him to get out of the car, denying him his
escape.

He acknowledged his expectations had no basis in reality, especially
because everything he’d seen of Tilthos Charles when the leader was in
his right mind was favorable. Still, he didn’t actually know how
Tilthos Charles governed. He was only assuming, based on the one alpha he
knew, that Tilthos Charles might have allowed power to go to his head.

“So uncharitable,” the alpha above all alphas said after
opening the door. He sat in the passenger seat, folded his white cane, the
symbol of his visual impairment, and then buckled himself in. “Feel
free to drive if it will make you less edgy.”

“You’re reading my every thought?” Oliver asked.
He’d assumed his shields were better than that.

“Not quite. You’re not projecting everything, I don’t
think, but you’re very unhappy with me and that carries just
fine.”

Oliver relocked the doors and pulled out of the driveway. “Where are
we going?”

“Somewhere that you can drive and listen without getting us in an
accident would be good.”

Oliver grunted.

To his amazement, the leader of most of the world’s werewolves on
this side of the Atlantic laughed. “You sound like Luis when
he’s unhappy. Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

Oliver couldn’t bring himself to accuse the alpha above all alphas of
any wrongdoing. Instead, he asked, “What happened to the six wolves
who attacked you?”

“Huntington, Travers, and Cobb have been placed with different packs,
separated by quite a bit of geography. Their new alphas reassure me their
movements will be closely observed.”

Oliver turned off Llosgia Maxine’s street and just headed south, away
from Washington, DC. He knew he wouldn’t be able to drive in heavy
traffic and listen. “Why are they still alive?”

“I’m not in the habit of killing every single wolf who’s
tried a coup. There would be considerably fewer wolves in the world if I
exacted that sort of revenge. They’re being watched by three alphas I
trust implicitly and I’m sure these bastards will show their true
colors again. And unlike in baseball, they only get two chances.” He
turned his head away from Oliver. “They’re not the only ones
I’m watching. Kreisha Alexander let this go on right under his nose.
At best, the very best, that makes him not perceptive enough.”

He faced Oliver again. “I’m asking you to keep me informed if
he does anything inappropriate, dangerous, or careless. I don’t order
you because I don’t want to step on your agency that way.”

“Please order me,” Oliver blurted.

That got him a raised eyebrow.

“Kreisha Alexander is in the habit of ordering his wolves not to
share things, good or bad, outside the pack. If I have your order first, and
because you outrank him, I’ll be able to tattletale.” He
grimaced. “That came out more bitter than I anticipated or meant.
I’m sorry.”

Tilthos Charles seemed to have caught onto another part of his speech,
however, because he said, “Is there anything you’re forbidden to
share with me?” There was a growl in his voice.

About the Author

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

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Filed under Teasers

Tagged as dark fantasy, Emily Carrington, LGBTQ, Steamy, Trust is Sacred

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | October 9, 2024 · 5:00 am

Trust is Fraught Blitz

LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Interracial Romance

Date Published: October 11, 2024

From insisting on a bed for their first time to protecting Amir from
everything, Oliver is stepping all over Amir’s last nerve. It’s
almost too bad the submissive wolf wants dominant Oliver in the worst
way.

Amir’s frustration with Oliver doesn’t cancel out his
attraction to the other wolf. As they fall deeper into the dangers of the
psychic world in an effort to rescue their leader, their love may be the
only thing keeping them sane.

As the leader of the werewolves sinks further into insanity, Amir and
Oliver are pushed to their limits to find out what’s causing his
decline. Once they discover the truth, it’s another struggle, this one
against prejudice and time, to rescue the alpha above all alphas.

EXCERPT

It was full dark when Oliver jerked awake. He sat up, smelling his own
sweat and the aftermath of sex.

He flashed back to the most traumatic time he’d woken to the stench
of spent jizz. Geoffrey, the beta of the Kreisha pack, had been standing
over him, cum dripping from his rapidly shrinking cock.

Oliver swung his legs over the side of the bed, fully expecting to find
himself surrounded by the enemy. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness,
and he picked out the shadowy form of a lampshade. He reached out, almost
knocking the lamp over in his need to shed light on the situation. When the
bulb glowed, he took a quick look around the room, feeling the urge to
ensure he was alone and safe. He didn’t quite dare to rise to his feet
because his legs felt like they’d turned to water.

He missed Kenneth Jeremiah in the worst way all of a sudden, and he was
unable to hide from the truth, that he missed his lover not for Kenneth
Jeremiah’s own sake but because his lover had kept the nightmares at
bay. Ever since being attacked, which had been two months before Kenneth
Jeremiah died, the nightmares had been threatening. But he hadn’t
actually dreamed of what happened until after his beloved was dead. Kenneth
Jeremiah had possessed a rare empathic gift, one that allowed him to soothe
others’ minds.

Sort of like Amir, he thought, but his terror kept him dwelling on the
past.

He was alone in the downstairs bedroom of the house he rented in
Washington, D.C.’s Northwest quarter. Why the hell did it smell of
sex? And why didn’t his ass hurt?

Oliver’s gorge rose. He swallowed against the need to throw up.
Gradually, his stomach settled and new information came to his nose. Yes, it
was his own jizz he smelled on the air, but it was mixed with another
male’s. The aroma didn’t spark a flashback but seemed to wrap
around him, comforting him.

Amir’s scent surrounded him.

He’d had sex, all right, except it had really been making love. There
was no fear or rage clouding the healthy leavings of two werewolves who
cared for each other. They hadn’t gone all the way. Oliver had refused
to claim Amir’s virgin body while they were so spun up from the events
of the last few days and when Oliver himself had been so desperate for
sexual contact that he hadn’t been sure he could be as gentle as was
needed. They’d had oral sex, and now that his head was clearing, he
realized he could taste Amir’s salty spend on his tongue. He licked
his lips, found a little more of the heavenly liquid at one corner, and
closed his eyes to savor it.

His cock stirred, although only a little as he fully realized he was alone
in the bedroom. Where had Amir gone? Had he woken as Oliver had, frightened,
and escaped into the house at large, or to the world beyond these walls?
What if Oliver’s nightmare had been prophetic rather than a misplaced
response to his joy?

He tried to push himself to his feet, but his legs wouldn’t support
him. He flopped back onto the bed. Cursing softly, he performed a quick
self-analysis, looking for sore spots or other indicators he’d been
drugged. He detected nothing. Likewise, he felt no alien presence in his
mind. His psychic shields were up and strong.

Still, his legs trembled. Clutching his knees, he tried to get a handle on
his fear.

It hadn’t been all that long since he’d dreamed of the gang
rape Geoffrey Huntington had led. Maybe only three weeks. Still, he was
shocked every time it recurred. Hadn’t going through it once been
enough? Apparently not for his traumatized body. Oliver could have bested
three out of the four werewolves who raped him during that long five hours,
but he’d surrendered to their brutality to save Kenneth Jeremiah. When
the attack had begun, he’d expected to find Travers and Cobb involved
because they were closer to him in rank, both being lower gammas. But the
three besides Geoffrey, who was the beta of the Kreisha pack, had been Carl,
Matthias, and Scott, all very low-ranked wolves, although not quite
submissive. He’d always thought their ranks were why they’d
participated. Geoffrey might have forced them.

Thinking about that night, all alone in the midst of raving beasts,
wasn’t going to steady his legs. He needed to get himself under
control so he could go looking for Amir and ensure his new lover was
safe.

He forced himself to lie down on the bed. He inhaled Amir’s scent
rising from his pillow, an aroma made of sweat and excitement and just a
touch of disinfectant because Amir was a physician. Oliver breathed in and
out, counting the seconds for each inhale and exhale. He added three seconds
of holding his breath between these two acts and slowly his heartbeat
stopped racing out of control. Amir’s joy and release held a comfort
that Oliver hadn’t found since before the gang rape.

He sat up before that thought could take hold. He focused on the bedroom
door, which was ajar. He did another quick sweep of the room, this time with
nose fully engaged. He didn’t detect any blood or stench of fear. Amir
must have left the room of his own volition.

With this idea in his head, Oliver was finally able to rise. He tugged on
the pants he’d been wearing and started for the hallway. Following
Amir’s scent, he went into the bathroom across the way, where Amir had
apparently washed up because the tang of citrus soap hung in the air. Had he
come out here naked?

Needing to solve that mystery because Amir walking anywhere potentially
public without his clothes didn’t seem like the doctor of magical
creatures at all. Back in the bedroom, however, Oliver saw all of
Amir’s articles of clothing were still there.

Concern reared its ugly head again and he trotted from the room. He stopped
by the front door, but Amir hadn’t come this way. He trailed the scent
of soap to the stairs, and that was where it changed. The addition of
fur’s rich aroma told Oliver Amir had slipped from human guise to
lupine seeming before he went up the staircase to the second floor.

His night vision had fully adjusted to the dimness, and he climbed the
stairs silently, keeping his ears open for Amir or their mutual
patient.

Maybe that was it, he thought as he put his foot on the third step. Their
mutual patient, Tilthos Charles, the alpha above all alphas in the Americas
and Canada, was ill. Amir had managed to rule out any poisons or physical
cause for Tilthos Charles’s growing madness, leaving it to Oliver to
figure out the psychic cause. Oliver hadn’t yet solved the mystery
beyond the realization Tilthos Charles was being forced to share his mind
with five or six other werewolves who meant him harm.

Maybe Tilthos Charles was the reason Amir had left the bedroom and not
because he’d endured a terrible dream. Oliver purposely made a little
noise on the stairs to warn those up on the second floor that he was coming.
He couldn’t quite make himself call out or even whisper. His throat
had tightened, now with nervousness. What had he been thinking, making love
to Amir when they had a patient to look after?

He reached the landing between the first and second floors and paused.
Above him, out of sight because of the construction of the house, he heard a
very quiet growl.

About the Author

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

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Filed under BOOK BLITZ

Tagged as dark fantasy, Emily Carrington, Interracial Romance, LGBTQ, Trust is Fraught

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | May 14, 2024 · 5:00 am

Uncertain Foundations Teaser Tuesday

LGBTQ, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: May 17, 2024

They’ve been there for each other through death and life, through
pain and joy. Their love life has held them together through all external
dangers. But what happens when the threat seems to come from within?

Charlie, half werewolf, has never felt so uncertain. Everything he’s
trusted in — his eyesight, his psychic ability, his confidence in making
decisions — is under attack. Even his mate, his Life dancer, Luis, seems
untrustworthy.

Luis, a psychic vampire, is consumed by terror and paranoia. Unable to tell
fact from fiction, and feeling Charlie pulling away, he lashes out.

These two lovers who have stood the test of time find themselves on
unsteady ground. Can their love prevail despite the terror working its way
through the pack?

EXCERPT

Luis stood his back to a wall. He gazed across the crowded room to his Life
Dancer, who was shaking hands with Princess Angelina Oakland. Scanning the
princess’s living room quickly, Luis noted the approaching dawn
lightening the sky in the east and the Pakistani land dragon speaking
quietly with Claudette, the water dragon from Western New York. He felt like
a stalker, watching all these people in their final moments of conversation
and leave-taking, but he wouldn’t let Charlie, his Life Dancer, be
alone. Too much had happened during this last delegate gathering.

“Go downstairs,” Charlie said, turning his head away from the
princess to meet Miguel’s gaze. The blood-dependent vampire, slave to
the darkness of night, was swaying on his feet.

“You are leaving,” Miguel said.

“This morning,” Charlie agreed.

“I wanted to say thank you.” He nodded to Princess Angelina.
“To you as well, Your Highness. I have lived without hope for many
years. To have it again is a marvelous blessing. And it wouldn’t have
been possible, Tilthos Charles, without your assistance.”

“You’re welcome, but if you thank me again, I’m going to
have to demand payment.” Charlie sounded more concerned than flippant
despite his words. “Go. Down. Stairs. We’ll meet
again.”

Miguel shook hands with both of them and headed from the room.

He passed close to Luis and said softly, “Your lover is a beacon of
hope.” Then he was gone.

Luis watched Charlie making the rounds of the other magical creatures in
the room. All of these others were ignoring Luis, as if he was just a
bodyguard. That suited Luis just fine. Charlie didn’t really need his
protection, not in this room, and not usually in the world at large. The
leader of all the werewolves on this and the southern continent was only
half werewolf, and visually impaired also, but he’d held his position
without others defending him for over half a decade. He was confident. He
was strong.

And sexy as hell.

Luis firmly turned his thoughts from that particular channel because some
of the magical creatures gathered here had great senses of smell.
They’d know he was aroused if he allowed himself the luxury of
thinking of his Life Dancer without clothes on.

Charlie’s thoughts drifted through Luis’s mind, his psychic
tone lightly teasing. I think it’s too late for you to hide
anything.

Luis smirked and thought back, Good.

Gradually, the heads of this or that species left, taking their chauffeured
rides to private airplanes. Agent Jack Sowerby would be meeting some of them
at Baltimore-Washington International Airport, but some wouldn’t allow
the new head of SearchLight to see them off. Claudette, the water dragon,
was one of these, preferring to keep her exact departure a secret.

Luis knew she was flying out of Dulles, the airport south of here in
Virginia, but he was a tracker. It was his job to know the comings and
goings of those who might be a threat to SearchLight. Or to his Life
Dancer.

As the room emptied, he wondered if the princess would let him and Charlie
have one last fling in the bedroom she’d set aside for them. Although,
even if she did, Charlie might not want to hang around. He was anxious to
get back to their displaced pack.

“Tilthos Charles, do you need to rest before starting on your drive
home?” Princess Angelina asked as if she’d read Luis’s
mind. He didn’t think she had telepathy, and his shields were mostly
up anyway.

“That would be a better question for Luis, since I can’t
drive,” Charlie said, sounding amused. He tapped the end of his white
cane on the parquet floor. “Thank you, but I think we should get
going.”

Luis thought, keeping it hidden from his Life Dancer, Damn. And I was
hoping to be driving without blue balls.

Still, he had to admit he wanted to get home. And not just so that the
Tilthos Pack could return from where they’d been scattered to when all
the dominant protectors were occupied here in DC and Maryland. Luis had
concerns about those pack members here: Jeremy, Ethan, and Charlie.

Jeremy and Ethan would be driving back at some point soon, but first, Ethan
needed to regain his human shape. He’d taken to sticking close to
Jeremy and their son, Will, but in his werewolf guise. It was as if he
thought being in four-footed would somehow protect him from further
pain.

Luis had absolutely no doubt Jeremy would take care of his mate. The Night
Wanderer was protective anyway, and since Ethan had been forced to —

“Luis?”

He blinked, startled out of his thoughts by his Life Dancer calling his
name. Charlie stood about ten feet away, his gaze unfocused, as it always
was when he wasn’t trying to read some large print or looking at a
picture eight-year-old Will had drawn.

Luis crossed to him and touched his shoulder. “What is it?” he
asked gently.

“I guess you missed the change in plans.”

Luis smiled guiltily. “I was lost in my own world.”

“I realized –” Charlie said, lowering his voice and bending so
he could put his mouth next to Luis’s ear. “I need you before we
head out.”

Luis’s cock raised its head and he felt his asshole constrict in
anticipation. “Not here,” he ventured.

“Well, in this house, but, no, not in the living room. If we stained
any of her pillows or cushions, I’m sure Angelina would throw us out
and bill us through the nose.” He took Luis’s hand, pressing the
shaft of the white cane between their palms. “Will you guide
me?”

Luis knew Charlie didn’t mean that literally. He was independent to a
fault, was Tilthos Charles McLaughlin, alpha above all alphas. But having
Charlie make the request made Luis harder still. He kissed Charlie’s
palm and then encouraged him to take his arm.

Swinging his cane out before his feet, Charlie “followed” Luis
up the stairs and down the hall. The warmth of his hand, firm on the back of
Luis’s arm, was ambrosia to the anxiety Luis had been feeling for the
last week or so. Charlie trusted him. He glanced back and saw
Charlie’s eyes were closed and his cane no longer touched the floor.
He was letting Luis guide him completely.

Luis’s heart rose and he swallowed against sudden, stupid tears.
“Te amo, Charlie,” he whispered.

A mischievous smile lit Charlie’s dark and handsome features.
“Of course, you do.”

Luis snorted. But before he could retort, Charlie stopped walking and
pulled Luis into a tight embrace. Luis inhaled, loving the scent of his
lover’s aftershave.

“I love you too. Now, come on. I need you.”

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Tagged as Emily Carrington, LGBTQ, Paranormal Women's Fiction, Uncertain Foundations