This week I bring you a second part of my 9th Itayu Lake book, Vacation of Fate!
Vacation of Fate
Brady felt his face heat again as he recalled what they’d done in the shower, and again on the bed. Who would’ve thought he’d be so into sex with another man? Not Brady, but wow. Being with Davin not only felt right, it felt amazing. His wolf was tender yet insistent. The way he searched out all of Brady’s erogenous areas had his head spinning. Hell, just thinking about it was enough to make his cock throb in his jeans.
“Okay, we’re all set,” Davin said coming to Brady’s side and holding out his hand for him. “Ready to go?”
“Where exactly are we going?” Brady asked as he allowed Davin to pull him to his feet.
“I was thinking of going to one of the local bars.”
Brady stopped and tensed. “Um.” He bit his bottom lip and looked down to his shoes.
“What?” Davin asked, a hint of worry in his tone.
“I can’t go to a bar.” Brady felt his face heat for an entirely new reason.
He could feel Davin’s entire mood shift. “Why? How old are you?” he demanded.
“Twenty,” Brady confessed.
“Oh, thank god.” Davin knelt, a heavy breath escaping him. “For a second I thought you were a minor.”
“What? No!” Brady gaped. “I’m just not of legal age to drink.”
“Okay, then we’ll go to a restaurant,” Davin quickly revised his plan. “Logan told me about this good place in town, we can check it out.”
“Logan?” Brady frowned as he followed Davin to his Ford Taurus. For some reason he didn’t like hearing another man’s name leaving Davin’s lips.
“My partner at work.” With that Brady’s rising jealousy cooled. It didn’t vanish, but it did settle down.
“What do you do?” Brady suddenly realized how little they knew about each other, despite basically already being married. Mating was like being married, right? Minus the no divorce option.
“I’m a police officer in Mystic Cove Oregon,” Davin answered, pride in his voice.
“A cop?” Brady was floored. He’d mated a cop? “Does that make you the canine unit?”
“Watch it,” Davin growled even as Brady laughed. His wolf was a cop! This was hilarious.
“But seriously, do you sniff out drugs and stuff?” Brady fought not to die laughing even as Davin growled in warning again.
“I can sniff out a lot more than drugs,” Davin reminded Brady as he leaned in and inhaled deeply, “And right now I can smell how much you want me.” Amusement forgotten, Brady went stiff as his face heated to near nuclear levels. Davin smirked in victory and pointed to the car. “We can get lunch, or I can take you back to the room and not let you go until tomorrow morning. Your choice.”
“Tempting,” Brady moaned, but still hurried to the car and climbed into the passenger side.
“Obviously not tempting enough,” Davin mumbled as he got into the car and started it up. They pulled out and headed down the mountain.
Brady couldn’t remember a lot from when he was brought to the lake, but he did remember this road. It was the same one he’d come up with the fraternity house when he’d tried to get in. Sadly, due to family reasons he had to leave the school and switch to online classes. It was fine though, he was making his own money and he couldn’t complain about that. The circumstances which it occurred under though was still fresh and painful.
At the base of the mountain they came into a small valley town and Brady smiled. Now this he knew! Spirit Valley was just as cute as he remembered it. The township resembled something out of picture book, simple and quaint. It was the exact image he pictured when he thought of a small mountain town.
Davin drove them through town to a small restaurant tucked away from the main street. He parked and turned off the engine as Brady unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. The place looked like a small hole in the wall, and his experience with such places told him these types of restaurants were either amazing, or horrible. He hoped it was the first.
Okay, are you all ready for a flash back to the 80's? Well, if you aren't I'd dig out those nostalgia goggles, because you're going to want them! This week for my author spotlight I present to you Candi Fox and her new release, Savannah James, Pendale High Class of '87!
Welcome to the 1980’s and Pendale High. Home to arts, academics, rock stars, and smoking hot jocks.
Pendale senior, Savanah James, is about to risk everything for a chance at love. But, when she crashes and burns with her crush, Punk Metal Bassist Aaron Angel, Rock Star Stone Blackwell steps forward to save the day.
Their connection is instant, their passion undeniable.
Can Stone win her heart even after he makes a terrible mistake? Or, will the football team’s star quarterback Thad Harrison steal her away?
Savannah was backstage in the dressing room with the rest of the Storm Riders. She’d finally settled on an outfit that Stone liked, and she felt comfortable in. The rest of the band was getting ready. She sat on the sofa sipping a Mountain Dew.
She watched Stone, Manny, and Blade fix their hair, apply eyeliner. It was the 80s, everyone wore eye liner. They all chatted, joked and seemed totally at ease. Savannah may have looked calm on the outside, but inside she was a bundle of nerves. She was about to perform in front of 20,000 people, give or take a few hundred.
She was thankful she wore shades tonight. When she was particularly nervous she’d close her eyes and just let the music take over. Savannah was only the vessel that carried the music. The music was what everyone wanted. The sunglasses allowed her to look cool on stage and close her eyes without anyone noticing.
She got more and more nervous as time for the concert grew closer. Fidgeting in her seat just wasn’t cutting it anymore. She decided a once-over in front of the mirror would help. She could make a mental checklist to make sure everything was in order. That would help her calm down.
Her strappy black velvet dress barely covered her thighs. When she sat down it would no doubt show her black lace panties. Silk thigh-highs came up to about two inches below the dress. She chose the kind that didn’t need a garter belt.
Soft black velvet high-heeled boots covered her shapely calves and ended just below her knees. They were old-fashioned looking and laced up the front. Savannah tied them in a double knot like she used to do with her sneakers during basketball, to insure they wouldn’t come undone in the middle of her performance.
Over the dress she wore a sleeveless duster that she’d made herself. The top was black velvet to her waist. From her waist to a few inches below her thighs it was black silk brocade. The rest of it was a sheer black material. It floated out behind her as she moved.
Her long nails were painted black and she wore silver rings on several fingers. Some fingers bore multiple thin rings. On one arm she wore a variety of black and silver bangles, on the other she wore thin black leather bracelets, both going from her wrists to her elbows.
Large blackened silver hoops with stars were in her first piercings, while she wore small silver studs and hoops in her other piercings. Except for the one lone ruby stud earring. She’d once worn the cross that Aaron gave her. Something she’d worn every day since then, until last night.
Last night was a gamechanger for her in more ways than one. Given time she might even be thankful for the bitch that was hanging all over Aaron. Oh no, Savannah Cher James, you are not going to think about Aaron Angel right now. Focus!
A black velvet choker with a silver and moonstone pendant graced her neck. A tiny diamond sparkled on her nose. Aunt Judy had surprised her earlier today with the tiny diamond stud to replace the small gold hoop she wore.
Her black shades were coffin-shaped. She’d seen them in a fashion magazine over the winter and saved until she could buy them. Her black lips shone with a few layers of gloss. She’d chosen to only wear white eyeshadow with shimmer, black liner and mascara to complete her look. Her hair was straight, hanging loose down her back.
If she’d had more time she would have pin-curled it and used the hair-black that she usually streaked through her blonde hair to give it a rocker look. The curls both made her hair look shorter and gave it more volume. The perfect 80s hairdo for a rocker.
She saw Stone come behind her in the mirror. He put his arms around her waist as he pulled her close. His voice was low as he whispered in her ear. “You look good enough to eat, SJ. I’ll do my best not to be distracted by your beauty during the concert.”
She blushed and was about to reply when Aaron Angel walked into the dressing room. He spoke before he caught sight of her and Stone.
“Hey, guys. I heard that Lenny had a family emergency. I came to offer my axe skills.”
Manny walked over to him giving him a handshake and a bro hug. “Hey, thanks man. We have it covered. Stone’s girl is a fuckin’ phenom on the bass. I’m pretty sure she was playing one in her crib.”
“Oh? Anyone I’ve heard of?”
Stone turned around, Savannah still in his arms. “I’m pretty sure you know SJ. The goddess you let slip through your fingers. Hey, your fuck-up is my gain. Thanks, man.”
“You’re seriously going to let her play? She’s just a kid, man.”
“You’re wrong there, dickweed. SJ is all woman. She’s also a bitchin’ bass player. You’ve heard her play, man.”
His jaw clenched, Aaron replied. “Yeah. I heard her. I won’t deny she’s good, but what about in front of 20,000 screaming fans?”
“I’ll be just fine, thanks, Aaron. If Stone didn’t have confidence in me he wouldn’t let me out on stage. Storm Riders is the hottest band in the world right now. Do you think he would let me fuck that up for a piece of ass? That’s what you’re thinking right? That somehow, he has sex on the brain and therefore I can’t be that good. Why don’t you go take my seat in the front row and see just how good I am.”
She was so pissed she was trembling. Aaron turned around, stalking out of the room without saying another word. Stone felt her shaking. “Are you alright, sugar lips?”
“I’m fine. I’m just fucking pissed off at the hoser. How dare he think I’m not good enough to play on stage. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is?”
Candi Fox, co-host of the wildly popular radio show Candi and Company with over a million listeners began her venture in the paranormal at the tender age of two, when she witnessed her first apparition. From that moment on the paranormal seemed to follow her. No matter where she moved, the house she lived in the house next door, or the house down the street always seemed to be haunted.
Candi lives with her husband and furry children in Tulsa. She is passionate about the occult, saving and rehabilitating horses, horseback riding, magic, all things mystical and has her Reiki Mastery.
Where to Find Candi:
Facebook 1 - https://www.facebook.com/CandiFox01
Facebook 2 - https://www.facebook.com/CandiFoxAuthor/
Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/candimfox/
Twitter - https://twitter.com/CandiFox?lang=en
Amazon - https://amzn.to/2IriXGw
Good Reads - https://bit.ly/2Jihkw4
Website - http://candifox.com/
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.