Sunday, September 30, 2012

On Turning 72

I never really took birthdays to heart until this year. Thirty was just an age, the same with forty, and fifty. Okay when I hit sixty it was a bit, umm, shocking that I could be considered by some to be, *gasp*, ‘old’. I didn’t feel old then, or even at seventy.

And truth be told I still don’t feel old, although sometimes my body debates the fact. There’s the occasional ache in the knees when I stand up, the slightly blurry monitor screen if I’m not positioned just right. Going to bed at midnight, not one or two in the morning because I’m too tired to stay awake. Yeah that part of it, well, sucks.

But mentally and emotionally I’m still—humm, maybe forty, maybe younger or a bit older depending on the day and the mood. But I know one thing, I’m never growing up and growing old in my head and heart if I can help it.

Still this year seems a bit, I don’t know, different.

For one, I realized a couple of days ago that I was now just ten years younger than when my father died. He might have lived longer if it hadn’t been for complications from cancer and a bad heart. He was a good man, in fact in my eyes he was one of the best ever. He loved his family and adored my mother until the day he died. 

My mother adored him in return until the day she died at the age of ninety-two. Her last few years were spent in memories of her life with him and with us, even though she couldn’t remember two minutes later what someone had just said to her.

So yeah, as I creep up on them, age-wise, I’m beginning to realize I’m no more likely to be immortal than they were.

I’ve also become a bit of a Luddite. I don’t own a car and never have. I wouldn’t touch a cell phone with a ten-foot pole, as the saying goes. And I got rid of my TV when they switched everything to HDTV. I rarely watched the damned thing anyway. However—computers are another thing entirely. I’ve owned one since, hell, 1982 I think and would never give them up.

So yes, I am getting older and pretty much proud of it and of the legacies I’ll leave behind. 

First and foremost, my wonderful son who just a month ago, with his girlfriend, moved several states away to start a new life for himself. He had his ups and downs and did some things he regrets now. But he’s turned into a wonderful, caring man. I was about to say ‘young man’ but at thirty-one he’s inching away from the ‘young’ I suppose. Of course it’s all a matter of perspective. Hell, at thirty I was very young. Foot-loose and fancy free as they say, never staying in one place for more than three years at a time until I finally moved to Denver and settled down once and for all.

My other legacy is my books. I’m no Hemmingway or Faulkner and I know it, but I love writing and I definitely like the fact that people seem to want to read my stories and for the most part they enjoy them.

Okay, enough about me at the ripe young age of seventy-two. *chuckling* I have more stories to write and hopefully I always will, even when I reach ninety or one hundred. Hell, I figure if my mom made it to ninety-three who am I to break the tradition. Maybe I really will hit one hundred and still be pumping out my books. I can only hope.

For now, goodbye. And tell your kids to look for my stories in thirty years and counting. *grinning broadly now* Who knows, it could happen.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Caomhnóir - 27

“I’m what?” Thom looked at Keegan as if the man had lost the last of his marbles.

“You’re coming with me on this assignment. Alasdair okayed it, in point of fact it was his idea.”

“In other words he ordered you to take me along,” Thom said, frowning. “Why? So that Darius can’t mess with me while you’re gone?”

“Yes.” Keegan replied, surprised at Thom’s reaction. He’d expected him to be happy about it, not upset.

“Did it occur to either of you that I have a job of my own? I’m just supposed to tell my boss that I’ll be gone for who knows how long and he should hold it until I get back?”

“Well—” Keegan blew out a long breath. “Look, if you don’t want to come with me I understand. It is short notice. I’ll tell Alasdair and have him set up bodyguards for you.”

“Like hell! I don’t want someone on my tail twenty-four/seven like I’m some kid.”

“Then you’re coming with me. End of story.”

“And do what, take in the sights wherever we’re going while you go off to fight some—whoever?”

“I’m not doing any fighting this time, hopefully. I’m there to keep a man from getting assassinated before or during the elections in his country.” Closing the distance between them, Keegan put his hands on Thom’s shoulders, asking, “Why are you really so upset about the idea of coming with me?”

Thom stared at him. “Because it wasn’t your idea, you were ordered to take me along.”

Lowering his gaze, Keegan nodded. “If I’d thought he’d have allowed it, mo ghrá, you would have come with me on every assignment I do while I’m here.”

“But you would never have stood up to him and said, ‘He’s coming with, like it or not’.”

“It’s not my place to do that.”

Thom sighed deeply. “I know Keegan. You’re just a—”

“A slave,” Keegan finished, his voice tight with acceptance.

“A foot-soldier.” Thom smiled a bit.

“Either/or, I’m his to command until—”

“The end of time?” Thom shook his head as he pulled away from Keegan’s grasp, but not away from where he was standing. Instead he took Keegan’s hands in his, holding them tightly. “There has to be an out-clause other than dying again.”

“So you keep saying, but if there is, no one that I’ve ever heard of has found it.”

“Alasdair would know,” Thom said with conviction.

“And he would never tell me, or any of us. After all, if we knew what it was, then we’d use it and there would soon be no more Caomhnóir.”

Thom hesitated for a moment, and then replied, “When we get back we’re going to beard the gryphon in his den and find out.”

Keegan’s face lit up. “So you will come with me on this assignment?”  

“Of course. I can’t have you worrying about me while you’re gone, which, I’d bet my bottom dollar, is why Alasdair ordered this. Right?”

With a chuckle and a nod of his head, Keegan said it was.

* * * * * * *

'Safe Harbor' is out today!

When Bobby, aka 'Prizm', witnesses the kidnapping of two other street kids and later learns one of them was murdered, he goes to the only man he thinks can help him.

Father Kurt, an Episcopal priest who runs the Harbor, a shelter for homeless kids, gets more than he bargained for when he talks Bobby into going to the police.

While the search is on for the killers, who may also be cops, Bobby and Kurt find themselves attracted to each other. Then a new friend of Bobby's is taken by the murderers and he decides it's time to use the resources at hand, other street kids, to find and to stop the murderers.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Caomhnóir - 26

One day later, Keegan was back in Alasdair’s office, receiving his next assignment. As he listened, he paced; half his mind on what his ceannasaí was saying, the rest of it worrying about going off so soon after what had happened between Thom and Darius.

Finally, with a sharp rap of one clawed nail on his desk to regain Keegan’s attention, Alasdair said, “Darius knows better than to have anything to do with your Thom at this point. Cease your brooding about it.”

“I can’t,” Keegan replied honestly. “I know Darius. He won’t give up. If necessary he’ll bring in someone else to do his dirty work, because he won’t rest until Thom is out of my life for good.”

“Why, Keegan?”

“You don’t know?” Keegan was surprised that his ceannasaí would be unaware.

“I know that there were rumors a century or so ago about some falling out between the two of you. I would have thought that by now that would be past history.”

“For me, it is, or it was until now. Obviously for Darius it isn’t.”

“Sit and tell me, in detail.”

Keegan nodded, taking a chair on the other side of the desk. “There’s not really much to tell. Darius met a young man who fascinated him. The young man wanted nothing to do with him. Eventually they went their separate ways.”

Alasdair shook his head. “There’s more to it than that. Rumor has it he tried to blackmail this ‘young man’ into accepting his advances and that said young man escaped from him only because it was close to All Hallows’ Eve. He waited for that night and then, contrary to orders, slipped into another century.”

Keegan chuckled low. “You should know, you read me the riot act about that for days afterwards.”

“During which, never once did you reveal why you had done that.”

“It was—personal, Alasdair. And, just so that you’re aware, what he was holding over my head was not blackmail per se. It was a threat to reveal to a Scriostóir that I was the one responsible for the death of his family.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell me this, Keegan,” Alasdair growled angrily.

“It was only a threat, meant to make me bend to his will. Darius might be a royal bastard, but he would never actually endanger our operation. You know that.”

“One would hope that’s the case.” Alasdair stood, crossing to look out over the city from the tall windows on one wall of his office. Finally he turned to say, “Against my better judgment, I want you to take Thom with you on your next assignment.”

Keegan’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re serious?”

“Very much so. If you leave him behind, your full attention won’t be on what you’re supposed to be accomplishing. With him with you, and Darius having no idea where in this world the two of you are, you can concentrate on the job. And,” Alasdair smiled slightly, “your Thom won’t be fretting about who you might be sleeping with.”

“Someday he’ll finally understand that he is the only one.” Keegan’s tone of voice was slightly petulant as he said that.

“He loves you, and I’m certain he really does trust you, but he’s only human. Jealousy will inevitably raise its ugly head when you are gone for long spells of time. Therefore, he will go with you.”

Keegan chuckled. “I’d suggest you let me tell him that. If you were to order him to, he’d rebel just because it was you.”

“I am quite certain he would.” Alasdair retuned to his desk. “Now, shall we go over your orders once more? And this time, pay full attention.”

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Please welcome Rawiya ...

talking about her inspiration for Sugar Daddy

Good morning! I’d like to thank Edward for having me on today. My new book, Sugar Daddy is the fourth book in the Something New on the Menu Series from Naughty Nights Press. I’m doing this collection with fellow muse, BLMorticia and let me tell you it’s been fun. So much I don’t want it to end but when BL’s book, Candyman comes out soon, it will be finished.

Well okay somewhat. There are sequels in the works for Latte, Sugar Daddy, and Candyman since the exterior characters want happy endings. That’s for later though. Right now, let’s talk about this book, Sugar Daddy.

How did I get the idea? Well, it actually came from a short of the same name I did for the Who’s Your Daddy anthology for STARbooks Press. I took those characters, changed around the setting a tad, and came up with this longer story about a young culinary student who wants an older man to love and take care of him.

Since I do only interracial stories, I felt it fitting my younger man wanted an established black male to be his lover. There is a little tension also, since Antwon Bantu, my older gent is a married to a woman. That presents a problem, but will it get in the way of their happiness?

Antwon also has a few hang-ups that you’ll learn more about in the story. Surely being a gay man in a high position is something relatable and this I wanted to bring out in my tale.

Hopefully you’ll check it out. Again, it’s book four in the series. The books don’t need to be read together or in order. They’re 4 separate books. If you haven’t checked out any of them please make sure to give them a look.

Sugar Daddy Book Four

Blurb: Matthew Davidson wants a MAN! The setting shifts away from the America’s to Britain where Matthew and his childhood friend, Devon Peartly attend a cooking school to obtain their cooking certificates. The young man wants a partner so badly, he decides he’ll try an online dating service in hopes of finding a black man that can take care of and satisfy him romantically.

He finds that man, Antwon Bantu on an online dating site and is instantly intrigued. Little does Matthew know that Antwon is involved in a “convenient” marriage and is seeking a younger partner so he can finally get on with his life. Instead of confessing the truth, he decides to hide it, fearing he’ll lose the chance with Matthew if he informs him. To complicate things, Antwon’s wife claims to be in love with him. Antwon must choose what’s more important; loving Matthew or saving his impeccable reputation as a top barrister in the London courts?

Which will he choose?

In this scene, we meet Matthew and his friend Devon

The morning sun came too damn soon for culinary student, Matthew Davidson. He’d been spending most of his evenings studying for exams, stressing himself out, and wondering what the future held for him. He couldn’t decide on the career path he wanted to take. Just something in the food and culinary business.

With a heavy book bag on his back and two more books in his hand, he drudged through the halls of Westminster Kingsway, fighting off the impending yawns coming over him. In reality, he wished he’d stayed in bed. Midterms were coming up fast, too quickly in fact, and he hadn’t been getting a lot of good rest. Not only that, he hadn’t been enjoying himself either, considering he was alone.
Boring and lonely!

Life had been rather uneventful as of late. No one at the school remotely interested him. Matthew didn’t want just anyone. He sought someone a little different than anything the place had to offer. Unless he wanted to date a teacher, which he felt wasn’t a great idea.

A definite conflict of interest I’d rather not have!

Already tired, he threw his knapsack on the floor and leaned against the wall. Taking a look at his phone screen, he blew raspberries as he discovered class was less than a half hour from beginning. “Damn, I should’ve faked a fever.” Even though that seemed like a great excuse, he knew once his grades started to drop, his mum and dad would ask him to come back to live at home. Not something he wanted to do. He loved the freedom away from the parental units.

Besides, he loved being roommates with his good friend. The young man who’d stuck by him through thick and thin and always showed him more support than not. Devon Peartley.

They’d been best pals for years; attending middle school together when Devon moved from Liverpool only a few years ago. The two were basically inseparable and they’d grown closer when they discovered they both were gay.

The young men convinced their folks they’d take care of one another while in college. All of them weren’t very happy that both their sons were benders but loved them nonetheless and thus, financed living arrangements for them once they graduated and went to Westminster, on the condition they’d keep up their grades.

In actuality, the fathers couldn’t bear to think of their sons coming home with other males as their dates. No question their dads didn’t take the news as well as the mums.

Matthew rolled his neck and gripped it tightly attempting to work out the kinks.

“Where are you, slut?” While straightening his crisp collar on his purple Polo Sport shirt, he searched for Devon to meet him across from their first class. Unlike Matthew, Devon was seeing someone regularly. He’d had a rendezvous with his man last night and Devon had informed Matthew he’d go straight to school from the man’s house and meet him there. Devon was dating an instructor.

Matthew grinned when he noticed him coming down the hall, dressed to the nines in a long sleeved white oxford and starched blue jeans. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head in Devon’s direction.
“Got out of bed in time to iron, I see,” Matthew chided and gave him a wry smile.

“Yeah, hiya…” Devon waved halfheartedly and grinned, brushing a lose hair from Matthew’s shoulder.

“How was the date?”

 “Fantastic! The man is an excellent cook – in and out of bed. Did my parents call?”

Matthew grabbed a chocolate bar from the side of his bag. “For once,” he took a big bite of his favorite breakfast, “they didn’t, but I had an excuse all prepared just in case.”

 “Oh yeah, what was that?” Peartley slid to the floor, pulling on Matthew’s pants leg to come down with him.

Matthew rolled his eyes; Devon knew how much he hated to sit on the floor. Instead, he propped himself against the wall and squatted while he finished his makeshift meal. “I would’ve told them you were being tutored,” he laughed, “which, for the most part, would’ve been true.”

“Yeah, I definitely was. He showed me a lot of new tricks. I loved every minute of it.” Apparently thinking of his date, he stared straight ahead while licking his lips.

“Uh huh, well at least one of us is enjoying life.”

“Hey, I told you to lower your bar a little bit. You might not be able to find a man that wants to take care of you and be a good lover.”

“Yes I will. Obviously, I’m searching in the wrong places.” Matthew pouted and lightly slapped Devon’s arm. “He’s out there somewhere, Devon. He’s gotta be.”

“You’re dreamin’, babe. Lower your standards a little or look forward to a life of loneliness.” He looked at his phone. “Shit, time for Professor Vincent’s class.” He jumped up and dusted himself off.
Matthew sighed, “Lemme ask you. Has class ever been hard to concentrate on knowing that you’re banging the teacher?”

“Yep, but he’s a professional and you know me; I gotta great poker face.”

Matthew grinned at his response and shook his head. They took the slow stroll towards the classroom.

“And no one has ever noticed you getting out his car or making any gestures.”

“Nope, not at all.” Devon opened the door for his good friend.

Matthew went in as he nodded. He really didn’t think Devon was that cool about the relationship with their English instructor. “I seriously don’t believe that, Devon. I mean,” he sat at the desk in front of his roommate and turned to face him, “it’s the reason I’ve never done it. I’d be nervous about someone picking that up. Plus, I like to make kisses and wild gestures to my man.”

“Well that’s you, hun. I’m handling it.” Devon stopped talking a moment to blow a kiss at his boyfriend who acknowledged it with a wink.

Matthew chuckled and drew up his slim lips. “Oh yeah, you’re handlin’ it alright.”

Devon playfully shoved his shoulder and clicked his teeth.

Matthew giggled to himself. He knew Devon was downplaying the affection he’d been showing the professor.

When their teacher came around handing out papers, he quickly collected himself, cleared his throat, and glanced at the document on his desk.

Fuck. Did I study enough for this?

RAWIYA is the more sensual erotica writer in the BLRawiya duo. Rawiya's first sole author book "Time to Make the Donuts" is now available in multiple digital formats through online vendors and her first MMF "Living in the Now" was released in April from Naughty Nights Press.
Rawiya loves multiracial characters who overcome obstacles other than race. Sweet, sassy, and spicy would be the best way to describe her work. Happily married mother of two, loves music, computers, and travel. She blogs regularly at Wicked Sexy Writers. For more please visit the Rawiya’s blog on Wordpress. 


Monday, September 24, 2012

Caomhnóir - 25

“He wouldn’t, would he?” Thom asked, more angry than fearful.

“Have you for supper?” Keegan nodded. “He would, but only as a guest, not the main course.”

“And that will never happen. If I never see him again it will be too soon. Damn, Keegan.”

“I know he comes on a bit strong, but consider who and what he is,” Keegan replied, putting an arm around Thom’s waist as they reached the hall. “He actually admired you standing up to him, although I doubt he’ll ever tell you so.”

“If he did I wouldn’t believe him. So, what do we do now?”

“Depends what you mean. I for one could use something to eat.”

“That’s not quite what I meant and you know it. What are we going to do about Darius, since I doubt that Alasdair’s lecturing him will actually make the slightest difference in the long run.”

Keegan chuckled. “Never underestimate the power of one of his lectures. By the time he’s finished with you, you know exactly where you stand and what will happen if you dare to disobey him on whatever laws he’s laid down in the process.” After pressing the elevator button, Keegan added, quite seriously, “It’s more than your life is worth to disobey him.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. But so help me if I see that bastard again I’m going to coldcock him, and that, Keegan, is a promise.”

Keegan smiled, giving him a quick hug as the elevator doors opened for them. “If I’m with you, I’ll back you up to the hilt, and maybe add a blow or two of my own.”

* * * *

As one set of elevator doors closed on Keegan and Thom, the ones for the next elevator opened and Darius stepped into the hall. He wondered as he strolled down to Alasdair’s office just what assignment the ceannasaí had for him. Hopefully, he thought, something quick. He wanted to be around when the foolish human went after Alasdair, to see how hard and fast Alasdair eliminated him.

Half an hour later Darius was storming out of the office. He’d kept his cool while Alasdair lectured him, denying Thom’s accusations all the while. But the minute the door closed behind him his face was suffused with rage. Enough with the games, it was time to get proactive.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Caomhnóir - 24

“You’re certain I can’t just stay out here and—” Thom looked around the waiting room, his eyes landing on a neatly arranged array of magazines, “and catch up on the latest in the legal journals?”

“Quite certain.” Keegan put his hand in the small of Thom’s back, propelling him gently into Alasdair’s office after opening the door.

The ceannasaí looked up from what he was doing, arching his eyebrows when he saw Thom as well as Keegan. “To what do I owe this singular honor that you’ve brought him with you, Keegan?”

“He had something to tell you that you need to know.” Keegan took a seat in front of Alasdair’s desk, indicating that Thom should do the same.

“Might I hazard a guess that it has to do with Darius?”

Thom nodded and then, after an encouraging glace from Keegan, told his story. As he did Alasdair looked at first doubtful and then as the story progressed anger limned his face.

“Unbelievable,” Alasdair growled when Thom had finished. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I shall have a long talk with him about his behavior.”

“Mo ceannasaí, if I may offer an opinion,” Keegan said. He waited for Alasdair to indicate that he could before continuing. “Darius will deny everything, and so skillfully that you’ll believe him when he’s finished. He will, undoubtedly, do his best to make it seem as if Thom made it all up out of a whole cloth because he’s jealous.”

“And did he?” Alasdair asked, well aware of Keegan’s ability to ferret out the thoughts of humans, and that he would not lie to him.

“No he did not. What he’s told you is the absolute truth.”

“Something that I’ll make quite certain Darius understands if he tries to pull the wool over my eyes. Again, thank you letting me know, and you are dismissed.”

“But—” Keegan started to say. The protest died on his lips when the ceannasaí said his name sharply, pointing to the door. “As you wish, sir,” Keegan murmured with a slight bow of his head as he stood up.

“Now just a damned minute here,” Thom said angrily, standing as well, but not moving towards the door. “So all that bastard is going to get is a lecture after what I just told you? Don’t you get how close I was to coming after you? I would be dead now if I had, and he set that up to happen.”

“That would have been unfortunate. Luckily for you, you came to your senses before you did something so stupid. Now leave.” Alasdair pointed one clawed finger at Thom. “Now, and without another word. If you weren’t so important to Keegan you would be my supper this very moment for talking to me in that way.”

Thom opened his mouth in shock, and then snapped it shut as he walked swiftly out of the office. Keegan started after him, throwing an angry look at Alasdair over his shoulder as he did. He stopped dead when he saw him grinning broadly.

“Your young man has guts,” the ceannasaí commented. “For the first time since he came into your life I am beginning to believe that you have found your match. Now go, and try not to let him go off half-cocked. I shall deal with Darius as he deserves.”

With a soft chuckle, Keegan left, closing the door behind him.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Caomhnóir - 23

“The second time Darius showed up wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the first, which should tell you something right there.”

“Indeed it does.” Keegan was scowling again, but this time not at Thom but because of what he was saying.

“He started out by telling me that you were going after a Scriostóir, as if you had tried to hide that bit of information from me. And then, being all consoling and what have you he implied that you were dead without really coming out and saying so.”

“The bastard! Just wait until I get my hands on him.”

Thom nodded. “I rather thought you’d feel that way. But before you go after him, there’s more.”

Consciously relaxing enough to listen, Keegan asked, “How bad?”

“If I’m reading things correctly, bad enough that if I hadn’t gotten my emotions under control I’d probably be dead by now. He told me that you’d been betrayed, by Alasdair, because of me.”

“Bloody fucking—” Keegan let out a string of swear words in more languages than Thom could comprehend, from ‘Bastardo’ to ‘Pompinara’ and back again. When Keegan finally ran out of words and breath, he wrapped his arms around Thom, holding him tight. “This shouldn’t have happened. And it will never happen again.”

Releasing Thom finally, Keegan cupped his chin in on hand, looking gravely at him. “Tell me you weren’t planning on going after Alasdair.”

Thom nodded slowly, admitting, “For a while there I was. Until I realized that’s exactly what Darius wanted me to do.”

“Thank God you came to your senses.”

“That can happen, occasionally,” Thom replied with a self-depreciating chuckle.

“I would ask why you believed all his lies, but I know the answer. Darius is a consummate manipulator, and as young and innocent as you are, you were putty in his hands.”

“Young, maybe, in comparison to the two of you, but innocent, not even. Not since I met you.”

Keegan threw back his head in laughter, cursing when it hit the headboard with a loud smack. “You, mo ghrá, are going to be the death of me yet.”

“Not possible.” Thom smiled, and then sobered quickly, “Unless there is some truth in the midst of all Darius’ lies. Would Alasdair like to see the two of us separated?”

“Damn, Thom, no! Alright, he’s not totally happy with you being in my life because he’s afraid you could jeopardize me. He knows I’d do anything within my power to keep you safe. But come on, what good would it do him to have me killed just to part us?”

Thom leaned back against Keegan’s chest as he thought about that. “What if,” he said slowly, “you had lost the fight with the Scriostóir? Could Alasdair, or your supreme ruler, bring you back again or would you be truly dead?”

Instead of replying immediately, Keegan shifted Thom so that he could get out of bed. He searched the clothes that lay strewn on the floor until he found what he was looking for. Coming back, he settled next to Thom, handing his a sheathed dagger.

“All of us have one of these, Scriostóir and Caomhnóir. Believe it or not, even though we are fierce enemies in the fight to save or destroy this world, there is a certain respect that we hold for each other when it comes to battling one on one. The winner uses their dagger to send to looser to his final rest, freed of the sins that brought them to the orders.”

Thom looked gravely at the dagger. “You just—stab your foe with this and that’s the end?”

“It’s not quite that simple. There are ritual words that must be spoken as we plunge it into their heart.”

“And if you don’t say them, then what?”

“Then we return to the vale to suffer for our sins throughout eternity. Or at least that’s the theory. As far as I know it hasn’t been tested.”

“Alasdair would know. And that leads me back to what we were just talking about. Suppose that’s not what happens, or that it’s only one of several possibilities. What if you return to the vale and it’s decided that you’re too valuable to waste. So they give you another chance. And just suppose that someone, not saying Alasdair but someone, knows this. You battle, you’re the looser and dying, and your opponent stabs you but doesn’t say the words that save you from—eternal damnation.”

Keegan tapped his fingers together as he though about that. “From the mouths of babes,” he finally muttered. “But Alasdair wouldn’t do that to me. We’re more than master and slave, commander and foot-soldier, whatever you want to call it. We’re friends above and beyond all else. If we weren’t you wouldn’t be in my life, he’d have seen to that from the beginning.”

“So he does see some good in our relationship?”

“Yes, I think he does. But we can ask him in the morning when we go to see him.”

“I have to--?” Thom shuddered.

“Yes, mo fear daor, you have to,” Keegan replied with a soft laugh. “I promise, I shall protect you from his claws.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

A great 4 Hearts review for 'We Are the Guardians' 

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Caomhnóir - 22

“I think,” Keegan started to say, laughing when Thom responded with, ‘therefore you are’.  “Yes I am, but that is not what I was going to say. I think that we need to talk now that we’ve gotten the most important things out of the way.”

Thom looked up at his lover, tracing a finger over his lips. “I guess we should, but not like this. I won’t be able to keep my mind on what we’re talking about.”

“Then I’ll move.” Keegan kissed him once more, quite thoroughly, before rolling off onto his back and sitting up.

Thom grumbled that he wasn’t quite sure that was an improvement as he sat up as well, leaning back into the curve of Keegan’s arm as it circled his shoulders. “Ask away,” he said.

“You know what I need to know. Exactly what did Darius say to you?”

“I saw him twice, at the club, which you probably already know.” Thom turned his head to shoot Keegan a rather disgusted look. “The first time he went out of his way to make it clear that ‘faithful’ was not your middle name in any way, shape or form.”

“He’s right.” Keegan tightened his hold on Thom when he tried to pull away. “Let me finish. He is correct; I’ve never before been faithful to anyone. I never saw the need for it, as I rarely if ever returned once I’d left a place or time. But then, until six years ago, I had never met someone who affected me so deeply.” He smiled when Thom turned to look at him. “Truth time, here. In my nine centuries as a Caomhnóir I’ve been all over the world and have visited more places and times than you could ever imagine. You know that. And during all that time I was hardly a saint when it came to my physical needs.”

“I suppose that would have been impossible.”

“Unless I was a eunuch, definitely. There is one thing I can say though in my defense, never once have I told someone that I loved them until I met you.”

“Truly?” Thom studied Keegan’s face, looking for something in it that said he wasn’t just trying to placate him.  

Instead of replying to the affirmative, Keegan frowned. “Do Darius’ words mean more to you than mine?”

“No!’ Thom protested. “No, never. I just—Damn it Keegan.”

Keegan’s frown deepened. “Tell me exactly what he said.” 

“He implied that you had been unfaithful to me whenever you were gone. Any bed in a storm was the way he put it. And of course he caught me on a really bad day when he said that.”

“Bad day how?”

Thom winced, not certain he should admit what he’d been feeling. He didn’t have to as Keegan instantly picked up on his memory.

“Mo ghrá, you will always be beautiful to me. Even when you’re old and gray, to me you will be the man I met and fell in love with oh so many years ago. How many times do I have to tell you that before you believe it?”

“Until the day I die? And maybe beyond?”

“I can do that. I’ll say it so often you’ll get tired of hearing it.”

Thom touched his cheek, smiling. “You don’t have to be quite that insistent, once a week would be fine.”

“Done.” Keegan kissed him gently, saying, “Mo fear álainn, is breá liom tú.”

“Is breá liom tú,” Thom murmured against his lips.

“I know. I can feel it, see it, and read it in that wild and untamed mind of yours.”

“Stay out of my mind, Keegan,” Thom growled. And then he laughed. “As if, right?”

“Right. Now, tell me about your second run-in with Darius.”

* * * * * * 

Mo fear álainn, is breá liom tú - My beautiful man, I love you
Is breá liom tú - I love you

Monday, September 17, 2012

'Safe Harbor' - Coming Sept. 29th

'Safe Harbor'

When Bobby, aka ‘Prizm’, witnesses the kidnapping of two other street kids and later learns one of them was murdered, he goes to the only man he thinks can help him.
Father Kurt, an Episcopal priest who runs the Harbor, a shelter for homeless kids, gets more than he bargained for when he talks Bobby into going to the police.
While the search is on for the killers, who may also be cops, Bobby and Kurt find themselves attracted to each other. Then a new friend of Bobby’s is taken by the murderers and he decides it’s time to use the resources at hand, other street kids, to find and to stop the murderers.

 Excerpt: (semi-edited)
Chapter One

"Shit." Bobby aka 'Prizm' peered over the edge of the roof again and then pulled his head back quickly. When he took another cautious look, he thanked his lucky stars he'd decided to sleep on up there tonight, not in one of the doorways.
Down below him in the alley two kids he vaguely knew were being rousted by a pair of cops. He couldn't see the cops' faces since the only light came from dim bulbs over the back doors of a couple of shops, but he sure as hell could see what they were doing. One of them had his hand tangled in the girl's hair, forcing her to her knees in front of him. The other one already had the boy on his knees, light glinting off the handcuffs on his wrists for a second.
Bobby didn't have to watch to know what came next. Instead he inched his way to the corner of the roof and searched for the squad car. He knew he probably wouldn't do anything about it, but he still wanted to find out who the bastards were. That is if he could get a number off the car. The problem was there was no squad car in sight. Where the hell is it? They had to have walked in from that end ‘cause it’s a blind alley.
Sitting back on his heels, Bobby waited. The last thing he wanted was to watch the kids being forced to go down on the cops. A few minutes later he heard a muttered oath and the sound of a hand hitting flesh. Taking another surreptitious look, Bobby saw the girl was sprawled on the ground, sobbing, the cop standing over her as he zipped up his pants. The other cop finished moments later, pulling out of the boy's mouth. As he stripped off a condom and put his flaccid cock back into his pants, he glanced at his partner and received a nod in return.
They pulled the kids to their feet, cuffed the girl, and marched them to the end of the alley. As Bobby watched, they opened the door to a dark sedan, which explained why he hadn’t been able to find a squad car anywhere around. They shoved the kids into the backseat, got into the front seat and drove off moments later. Bobby tried to get the license number, managing to see only the first letter and a number as the car passed under a streetlight.
"D3, D3, D3," he muttered as he made his way back to where his few belongings sat. He took a scrap of paper from his backpack, wrote the information down then shoved it into his pocket.
Now what? For sure I can't walk into the cop shop and report what I saw. Not with my record.
His 'record' included a couple of busts for soliciting and one for having drug and graffiti paraphernalia on his person. He'd spent time in  juvie for the soliciting busts since he hadn't had the cash to pay the fines. Of course, now that he was eighteen his records were sealed, but that didn't mean a damned thing, and he knew it. He'd been on the streets since he was fourteen. The cops in the area knew his face and had rousted him often,  even when they had no grounds to pick him up.
So who can I tell, and do I even want to? Yeah, it ain't right what they did, but…
Wrapping his tattered blanket around himself he curled up, using his pack as a pillow. He stared at the dark sky, the few stars occasionally hidden by fast moving clouds.
'Just don't rain again. That'd really top off my night.'
He finally drifted off, still debating who he could talk to and whether it would do any good if he did.