Woolgathering...

I believe it's ended. One story started and stopped, another refuses to be written, so I took needed time off. I don't know about other authors but I sometimes wake up with a full blown story brewing faster than percolating coffee in my head! Trick is getting the main plot in black and white quickly! I hope this one continues to move along as nicely as it started. A small taste below, the cover story, and it will probably go through a few transitions as the story takes shape. The cover tells quite a bit!

NOTHING LEFT OF ME

Beauty is not fleeting when worn by an immortal.

Brax Sevan rules immortals populating earth; wily creatures humans attempt to ridiculously explain away with childish tales of boogeymen or ghosts. Brax and his underlings see to annihilation of beasts who become careless and those who defiantly flaunt rules. Boredom sent him to delve into why, and how, one of his kind killed a powerful subordinate. What he finds sways steadfast objectivity, strips him of calm reserve and aloofness honed over many lifetimes. The individual starts a fire in Brax that will not be suppressed and what he does next may cost his powerful position leaving people vulnerable to blood thirsty monsters.

Cador Ridge spent hundreds of years as a consort to emperors, kings, powerful men from every walk of life, but he bows to no one. Then or now. His existence, though sometimes rife with loneliness, is perfect until another like him dies at Cador’s hand. Running was useless as there is no place to hide from those the self-appointed leader of supernatural beings would assemble to find him. He doesn’t expect the supreme one to pay a personal visit. Nor did Cador believe the contemptuous bastard would take everything—but his life!

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Take a ride...

With Grange Stafford on Throwback Thursday.

DRIVER (PHANTOM LURE 1)

Available at: Changeling Press; Amazon; B&N; Kobo

Going my way?

Grange Stafford drives when the need arises. It’s a ride he looks forward to, one that sustains his life force -- a ride that will end fulfilling every imagined carnal yearning.

The handsome man driving the bus on Roman Curt’s route to work appears in an unrealized fantasy. What would his girlfriend think of his wanton desires? Roman envisions sharing more than her with the stranger whose intent green eyes observe him through the rearview mirror. Roman wants to be his lover too!

Driver, take me your way!

Excerpt:

“You were the devil’s lover?”

“I was.” Grange drained his glass. “This is what he made me.”

“Because you left him?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not like you were his one and only,” Connor mocked.

If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Con sounded jealous. His voice earlier… No, that wasn’t possible. Grange’s cock began to swell as he watched Conner’s bulge thicken, pronouncing the curve along his shaft and tempting him with the memory of just how sweet it felt deep in his ass. Grange gripped the stem of his empty goblet so tightly it broke. He stared at blood filling his palm. 

“Luc loves differently.”

“You mean the devil?” Rom glared at him.

“Yes, Lucifer. With him it’s evidenced in sex and depravity, and for a while I was his favorite.” Grange inspected his palm. “He made me, all Lures, in his image and we exist for sex, crave it daily, and can’t subsist without it. He’s done to us the one thing true love cannot withstand.” Grange licked the wound until it disappeared. “I didn’t leave the door open -- it was him working through me.” He caressed Roman’s cheek across the bar. “He wanted you to see me exactly as I am.”

“I don’t care.”

“He restored your memory, and I can never erase it again.”

“So?”

“Each time I fuck someone, if you stay near me, you’ll witness it, feel it through me as you did tonight, and eventually, you’ll hunger for it just as Conner and I do. Do you understand I’ll want others? Every. Damn. Day.”

“He did that because I love you?”

“Aww, babe -- love?”

Conner spoke up. “I wish Grange didn’t want you. I feel his need acutely.” He leaned against the bar, massaging his dick. “Him,” he pointed to the sleeping man on the sofa, “his kind will always be just a catch. But other Lures will pick up your scent as well as Grange’s desire for you. They will come after you, hard.” Conner sucked in a lungful of air. “I can barely keep my hands from you.”

“You want me?”

“Every Lure will want what Grange has found in you.” Con grimaced. “A catch whose memory is intact and you’re still willing? Yeah, they’ll come.”

Grange waited to see how Roman handled this information.

“What would happen?” Roman held his glass out for more wine, and once filled, he drained it in one gulp. “Would Grange be harmed?”

“You’re worried about Grange’s safety?” Con whispered.

Grange studied Con. What was up with him? He turned back to Roman. “We rip the genitals from any Lure who enters our territory due to our greedy nature.” Taking Rom’s hand, he continued. “I’d tear them all to shreds to protect you.”

“Grange is the strongest, but he will be challenged.”

“Over me?”

The man on the sofa roused, drawing Roman’s attention. He stood, bleary-eyed, stretched sensuously, then grabbed his robe and left.

“Was that you?” Rom shot a look at Grange.

His eyes were clear, so blue, and full of trust. Is that what love looked like? Was this Luc’s way of making amends, or had he discovered a way for Grange to suffer even worse? His chest grew tight as he sniffed the air. Roman’s scent had joined with Con’s, and the smells clamored for attention. “Yes. I can’t stand another minute of not having you.”

“Whoa, man, let me dress and get out of here.” Conner’s body trembled. “I-I can find a hotel, hook someone else.”

“Stay.” One word and Grange imagined never again being surprised by Roman until he stared at Grange and said, “Of them all, you trust and like him.” Rom squinted. “You know he loves you?”

“What?” How the hell did Grange miss that?

Conner sighed. “It’s why I don’t visit as often as I’d like. It’s too hard keeping it from you.”

Roman’s fingers brushed Con’s hips, sending a flare of desire straight to Grange’s crotch. “You’ve had each other before.”

“Holy shit, Grange, Luc’s bared your soul to him.”

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Pre-order SUBSIDE

Subside

Pre-order at Amazon: mybook.to/Subside1 - Available October 1^st

A soul hangs in the balance!

The only one of his kind, Deacon recalls thousands of years existing yet he has no memory of why. He can’t profess to living in seclusion because he greedily pursues pleasure in arms of so many men, he never lacks companionship. All those arms, lips, and asses, none feed his true desire. Deacon yearns for someone to make in his own image by introducing them to a hunger so vile, they will detest him forever.

Father Merck Hallowell stands at a crossroad of conscience and faith. His convictions, no longer satisfying, leave him searching for reasons to persevere. Befriending a handsome but strange parishioner opens a doorway Merck longs to enter and explore. Discovering Deacon’s secret, he realizes not only his life hangs in balance—so does his soul!

ReligErotica

Excerpt:

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been seven hundred and thirty years since my last confession.”

“I’m sorry, my son, I believe I misunderstood.”

“You didn’t.”

Silence stretched out for almost a minute. “This is not something to trifle with.”

“Father, if I wanted to play with anyone or anything, I wouldn’t be wasting my time here.”

“Stop, just stop.” Breathing escalated. “There are people starving and sleeping in the streets. They truly want help.”

“No, they don’t. They desire a full belly and a warm bed. Nothing more.”

His duty was to remain in the confessional and help the man who had issues but Merck doubted they were with the church. After his explosion against Father Sharpe, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Merck that all but one very well-dressed young man quickly exited the cathedral. The way he stood and fussed with his clothing garnered Merck’s attention. “Do the words pride before the fall mean anything to you?”

“You did notice. Good. One should endeavor to always appear at their best even before their dream is truly achieved. Demonstrating pride upon accomplishing the feat is no sin.”

“Ahh, your philosophy is one must look the part of success. Might I assume you’ve obtained your dream?”

“I have yet to attain my dream. Nevertheless, I do take pride in myself and am quite happy with turning out more magnificently every time I set foot outside my home.”

He recalled short, severely styled dark hair. Before allocating wealth to benefit his struggling parish, Merck recollected dressing fashionably and, therefore, he didn’t miss the fact the man’s outfit reeked of money. Almost as tall as Merck and extremely good looking with a powerful build, the man wouldn’t go unnoticed anywhere.

His eyes were pale though Merck, if pressed, couldn’t say they were green or blue but he’d be able to recite that he had skin the color of soft, burnished gold. “I believe you’re more interested in yourself than comfort I or the church might offer.”

“God, yes, I am.” Soft laughter emanated through the screen. “And before you talk about using his name in vain, remember your outburst minutes ago.”

Touché. Merck didn’t have time for this but neither did he want to leave and, for the life of him, he couldn’t say why. Actually, he could. Audacity, impudence, and disdain sitting on the other side of the screen reflected much of what he felt himself nowadays. If only he could express it.

“I promise, Father, I’ll listen another time. By the way, my eyes are blue when I’m not hungry. Yours, I’d describe as warm cognac with a chaser of sadness.”

“How did you know I…”

“You must see to your parishioners.”

The curtain swished on the other side of the confessional but Merck heard only one or two footfalls. Rising, he stepped out the door and stared into eyes that seared his soul. The man had said blue yet what he looked into flared red with hellfire. “God in Heaven!” Grabbing the edge of the door with his right hand to steady himself, Merck felt a splinter rip through his thumb. “Ow!”

The stranger reached for his hand and tugged it to his mouth. Merck should stop him but before he could soft, cool lips covered the appendage. As he sucked, pain diminished immediately. He practically felt skin knit together. Releasing Merck, he asked, “Better?”

He glanced down and couldn’t find any sign of having been injured. Peering back in the man’s eyes, he saw they were, indeed, blue. “Your kind is not welcome here.”

“My kind? So that you’re not guessing, let me clarify for you. Tonight, before arriving here, I took life sustaining substance from an unsuspecting human. The idea of talking with you rushed me so no one succumbed to death at my hands.” He stared at Merck. “I still thirst.”

“Leave this holy place now and never return!”

“Then how shall we continue our conversation? I expected we’d have many talks.”

“I don’t know what you are but I pray He sees to your destruction.”

“Prayer never worked before but I hear miracles do exist.” He bowed deeply. “My name is Deacon and I’m at your service Father Hallowell.” He pivoted and slowly walked down the aisle but before disappearing into the vestibule, he looked over his shoulder and said, “We shall meet again.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

What with the woman sitting in front of him smelling of fresh blood, and Merck’s injured thumb, Deacon longed to find someone to slake his thirst. Having now had a small taste of Father Hallowell’s blood, he could find him anywhere and ascertained quickly that he would come upon him again tonight if patient. Merck had already taken to the streets looking to provide some measure of comfort to his flock. His mind slipped occasionally to Deacon but he kept moving as if activity would erase what transpired.

“He didn’t fear me.” Deacon felt no surprise at that as he often tagged behind him into west Philly’s most dangerous areas. He’d watched Merck talk criminals down yet had never witnessed him hit one even as he wrestled a few to the ground when necessary and stripped them of weapons. Fearless. It was as if he sought death at someone’s hands.

“No,” Deacon whispered. “You’re mine now.”

Life is complicated, it’s loud, death arrives silently. – J. Hali Steele (from Twice the Burn)