Tatterdemalion

because some of Jonah’s anger faded and he was left with an awful yearning that made it hard to breathe.

“I am not a tourist. Like you, I’m a shapeshifter and I’ve done my share of living in the wild. And I

will tell you that shapeshifters don’t do well if they remain isolated.”

“You’re a wolf. A pack animal. I’m not. It’s hard to be around you at times.”

Instead of being shocked by this information, or offended, Trey’s expression gentled, as if he

understood that Jonah was attracted to him, which, Jesus, maybe he did. Jonah’s face flushed deep red and

he found he needed to get out of here, forget about standing his ground with Trey, forget about not giving

way. As Jonah attempted to pass by, a hand wrapped around his upper arm and he couldn’t reach the door.

He tried to shake off Trey’s grip.

Trey held on. “Uh-uh. You’re not going out there to freeze your ass off again. You did that yesterday,

remember?”

Through clenched teeth, Jonah said, “Let me go. I need some fresh air.”

“For God’s sakes, fresh air is about the last thing you need. I’ve never met someone who had so much

fresh air in their life.”

“Let. Me. Go.” Jonah was ready to snarl.

Trey slowly released his hold, and with some dignity, Jonah stepped towards the door, careful not to

act like he was bolting. He still needed to get outside. But when he reached for the handle, Trey’s hand

slammed down on the door, keeping it closed.

“Not today, Jonah,” he said softly, and there was something beguiling about the voice, a little huskier

than normal though maybe Jonah’s imagination was making that up. If Trey only knew what was going on

in his mind, he would be pushing Jonah out the door not holding the door shut.

Jonah stared at the hand, large and broad, powerful. Like Trey himself. He wanted to stay here, to be

honest, to spend as much time as possible with Trey before he vanished, but it wasn’t possible with these

feelings of longing, of desire. Bowing his head, he waited it out, though what exactly he was waiting for, he didn’t know. He felt like a condemned man.

“Jonah,” Trey murmured.

A shiver raced through Jonah and he couldn’t speak.

“Trust me a little, okay?” With that Trey ran a palm down Jonah’s spine, once, twice.

It was intoxicating, that caress, and though Trey did it to reassure him, not to arouse him, Jonah’s

body didn’t understand that. Jonah’s body refused to flee, it shuddered under Trey’s touch, and Trey felt it all and didn’t stop. So despite all of Jonah’s fears, he leaned towards Trey. When Trey didn’t back away,

when Trey stood strong as if ready to take Jonah’s weight, he nestled in Trey’s arm, asking for a hug that

was easily given, and Jonah buried his face into the crook between Trey’s shoulder and neck.

An awful relief flowed through him, like he’d been starving and hadn’t realized it. The knowledge

that Trey would have to push him away, and soon, didn’t stop Jonah from lifting an arm and hugging Trey

back. Still he was careful to keep his body angled away so Trey wouldn’t feel his erection.

“All right” was all Trey said, in that reassuring way of his, and even if he seemed resigned, he

sounded…affectionate. That was a good sign, right? Maybe Jonah wouldn’t wreck everything that lay

between them. They stood there for the longest time, Trey endlessly patient, until Jonah’s breathing came

under control. All the while Trey repeated his assurance that it was all right, that Jonah was fine.

Eventually, because it wasn’t in Jonah to end this, Trey set him slightly apart, and Jonah could feel his

gaze on him while he stared at the door he’d tried to escape through.

Trey cleared his throat, the noise more amused than embarrassed. “This wasn’t what I pla

kinds of reasons, and I’m willing to explain some of them, but…you’ve convinced me we need to take care

of you.”

Despite being puzzled by Trey’s words and by the suggestive tone of his voice, Jonah couldn’t look

up and see what was on Trey’s face. Not quite yet.

Then ever so lightly, Trey passed a hand over Jonah’s rock-hard but fla

would have jumped twenty meters, except Trey’s arm around his shoulders held him steadily in place so he

jerked under Trey’s hold. When he lifted his eyelashes to look at Trey, there wasn’t censure or anger on the wolf’s face. Just a strange ope

Then Trey smiled.

Desire. Destruction. Destiny.

Ghost Star Night

© 2009 Nicole Kimberling

Thomas Myrdin knows that intrigue is part of life at court, but that doesn’t make his king’s betrayal

any easier to take. Yet heartbreak troubles him less than the apocalyptic visions that haunt him. Fiery

premonitions that show the world burning in ruins—and the cause, the king’s daughter. Visions and

vengeance awaken a strange new power within him, but not even he is sure if he is the kingdom’s savior,

the king’s pawn.

Lord Adam Wexley harbors a secret longing for the elegant Thomas, but his duty is to protect the

newborn princess. When a sudden threat arises, Adam seeks to procure services of Grand Magician

Zachary Drake. Even if it means sacrificing his own soul—and his body.

Drake has seen the worst of kings and courtiers. Now he protects himself with powerful sorcery and

the adamant refusal to affiliate with any of the Four Courts. But the grand magician isn’t without

weaknesses and Adam may be the one enticement that could draw him to ruin.

In a rising storm of magic with the power to strip away men’s souls, the thread of desire co

three men could be the kingdom’s last lifeline…

Warning: This story contains men, magic, man-on-man moments, orangutans speaking in sign

language, beehive hairdos and an army of soulless janitors that seeks to destroy them all.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Ghost Star Night:

“Your hands must be tired,” Drake said.

Adam looked up and caught a hesitant, but definitely sensual smile playing across the other man’s

lips. The idea that the magician had a sexual interest in him began to form in his mind. Unlike the other

magicians he’d met, Drake’s face was not inscrutable. To him, Drake seemed almost shy, although how

that could be possible was a mystery.

“They are a little tired.” Adam set his guitar aside and focused his attention on his host. He still

looked as scary as ever. Slim black shirt and trousers. Boots with silver filigree tips. Silver rings. But now Adam noticed a subtle cologne, the glossiness of his hair. His smooth jaw.

Drake had shaved for him. Adam could see that his direct attention made Drake nervous because that

hesitant look returned.

Suddenly Adam found himself in much more familiar territory. Indeed, he began to consider the

possibility that guitar playing was not the activity that Drake most hoped Adam would engage in during his

visit to the Black Tower. This changed everything.

While he was good at playing guitar, Adam’s true excellence resided in the area of lovemaking. He

smiled and offered his hands to Drake who took them, sliding his own long, thin fingers across the surface

of his palms.

The doorbell rang again. And again. It rang at one-second intervals for a half-minute.

Drake’s face revealed his emotions. First, that he definitely wanted to continue to explore more of