The Necromancer's Smile
Yay, I'm on time and on schedule for this week! First time in ... weeks. So, for this Friday's spotlight we have Lisa Oliver and her book the Necromancer's Smile!
Detective Dakar Rhodes is an alpha wolf shifter who's short on sleep and patience. Called to yet another crime scene, definitely the work of a serial killer, he's shocked to learn the Pedace Police Department has a Necromancer as a consultant. Considering he'd moved to Pedace because of the lack of a coven in the area, he wasn't pleased with the new development. His previous dealings with magic users never ended well. But when ordered to show the consultant the respect befitting his position, Dakar bites his tongue and longs for a swift conclusion to the case.
Necromancer Prince Sebastian York, or Sy to his friends, has a real issue with people. He doesn't like or trust them, but because of his position, he has to deal with them. Dead people are so much easier - at least they don't want anything from him. But Sy has been raised to do his duty and when he's called to a crime scene, he doesn't expect anything much to happen beyond talking to a few spirits. The last thing he thought he'd find is a wolf shifter claiming to be his mate.
One short meeting has a wealth of repercussions. Finding a serial killer is easy; coping with relationships is anything but. Demons, journalists, long held grudges and a familiar with loyalty issues all combine to make for a hectic time. It's a case of one step forward, two steps back for Dakar and Sy, but when evil comes calling will they be able to rely on each other for a chance at an HEA?
This story is the first in a planned trilogy for our two main characters. A complete story, the epilogue does set the scene for book two, but this can be read as a standalone. This book contains a few intimate situations suitable for adults only and is M/M. Some graphic violence.
Stepping forward, Dakar inclined his head enough to show respect and kept his expression professional. “Necromancer, I apologize for disturbing your evening plans. If your boy toy would care to wait by the car, I can show you what we’ve found at the scene so far.”
The tall man’s spine got even straighter if that was possible and the temperature around them dropped ten degrees. Dakar got the impression he’d caused offence even if he couldn’t work out what he’d said wrong. Then he remembered what he’d said and winced. Shit, what if the boy toy was the Necromancer’s mate, significant other, or whatever the hell a necromancer calls his partner? Opening his mouth to offer yet another apology he was thwarted by cutting tones delivered with a decidedly British accent.
“Far be it for me to offer advice when you’ve not even offered your name and designation,” the haughty tones dripped with ice, “but may I suggest you should never judge a book by its cover. As you pointed out our evening plans have been interrupted so our attire should be excused. But then,” dark eyes reflected the scorn in the man’s tone, “I imagine it’s been some time since you’ve bothered to pick up a book of any kind so perhaps you’re unfamiliar with the cover analogy.”
Dakar bristled under the insult and his wolf growled in his head. “Now look here,” he snapped, “I….”
“Don’t let them bother you, Brock, you know it will only give you heartburn.” The boy toy hurried past the three men, walking straight up to the body before curling his legs so he ended up sitting cross legged on the ground beside the head. To Dakar’s shock the young man caressed the blood splattered hair before closing his eyes.
“What the hell?” Dakar shared a look with his partner before turning to the one called Brock. “Look Necromancer, I get its late and you aren’t the only one who got cock-blocked by this murder but get your pet away from our crime scene. He’s contaminating evidence.”
Dakar admitted, to himself at least, the boy toy was definitely worth spending fifteen minutes with. His mass of curls shone like a sinful halo under the harsh police lights, his slender face crafted by an angel. His lips were dark pink and full enough to stretch delightfully around his hardening cock. The club clothes the boy wore highlighted an ass taut enough to bounce a roll of quarters on and he had a lightly defined torso any twink would be proud to show off. But the boy’s innocent air would have stopped Dakar from approaching him if the circumstances of their meeting had been any different.
“Detective,” Brock’s lips curled, and the brimstone edge of his scent increased. “I would appreciate it if you would stop eying that young man as though he was your last meal. That man you callously insulted suggesting he was both my boy toy and my pet is the Pedace County Necromancer, Prince Sebastian York of the York clan; only heir to the York fortune and the strongest and most able man of his craft in the America’s.”
Just dig my grave and leave me in it. Dakar’s cheeks heated as he stumbled for something to say. “And you are?” He managed when his brain finally hit the right gear.
“I’m Brock, Prince York’s butler,” Brock announced as if he was the President.
Falling back on the bed, he brought Sy with him, finally wrenching his mouth free when breathing became paramount. “Tell me you want this,” he growled around his fangs.
“I do,” Sy panted. His flushed lips were puffy and slick with Dakar’s saliva and his nostrils flared as though he struggled to breathe. “I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. These last three days have played hell with every part of my being. You have to help me, I don’t know what to do, but I want to be your mate, I promise I do.”
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Wasting no time, Dakar rolled them over, pushing Sy’s shirt up to his chin as he nuzzled the soft skin of his mate’s belly. Sy wasn’t ripped like most of the partners he went for, but Dakar hadn’t realized what he’d been missing. The softness, the smell that permeated Sy’s skin, the leaking hardness in Sy’s pants all filled Dakar with emotions he wasn’t used to either. So, he focused on the one he knew best – lust.
The smell of precome assaulted his nose as Dakar tugged at Sy’s zipper. From the damp spot on Sy’s boxers, his mate wasn’t going to last long enough for Dakar to do what he had to do. I hope he’s got a good recovery period. But of course, all of that was moot. This was their claiming. In a matter of mere minutes, they would be as one no matter when Sy got his orgasm. Dragging the pants and boxers down lean legs Dakar buried his nose in the dark curls that framed Sy’s dick.
“Yum,” he grinned up at Sy’s shocked expression before licking along the length he’d exposed. “I love a good-sized cock in my mouth.”
“Yeah, well, get used to that one, because you’re not having anyone else’s.” Sy’s voice turned into a wail as Dakar sucked the mushroomed head, his mouth filling with spunk almost instantly. He wanted to chuckle; not an easy thing to do with his mouth full, but he sensed Sy’s embarrassment and just swallowed before licking his mate’s length clean.
“Delicious,” he said, sitting up and licking his lips. “Please tell me you have lube.”
Sy muttered something into the pillow he was clinging to.
“What was that?”
“I’m already ready, you know, down there.” Sy waved his hands at his hips.
This I’ve got to see for myself. Torn between the needs of his gut that thought his throat had been cut and the pressure in his balls, Dakar flipped Sy’s legs over his shoulders, his hands running down lightly furred thighs until his hands cupped Sy’s butt cheeks. Keeping a close eye on Sy’s serious but flushed face, he gently pushed a questing finger in the deep grove, closing his eyes as he felt dampness on his first swipe.
“You, my sweet, have hidden depths,” Dakar said as he forced his eyes open. “I plan on spending the rest of my life learning all there is to know about you.”
About Lisa Oliver
Lisa Oliver had been writing non-fiction books for years when visions of half dressed, buff men started invading her dreams. Unable to resist the lure of her stories, Lisa decided to switch to fiction books, and now stories about her men clamor to get out from under her fingertips.
When Lisa is not writing, she is usually reading with a cup of tea always at hand. Her grown children and grandchildren sometimes try and pry her away from the computer and have found that the best way to do it, is to promise her chocolate. Lisa will do anything for chocolate.
Lisa loves to hear from her readers and other writers.
Mondays: Free post days where I post about anything I feel like talking about.