AVAILABLE: Thursday, June 16th [Erotic Alternative Fantasy Romance, M/M, demons, HEA]
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Being summoned was not one of them. Isaac Braden was used to being summoned. He was a demon after all, but the night he was called to service a master in a satanic ritual, he knew his night was not going to end well.
Isaac Braden spends most of his time being a rich recluse, but every so often he's introduced to someone new when he's summoned… a blood sacrifice. And tonight Jory Daniels has been chosen to be that sacrifice.
In a satanic ritual summoning gone wrong, Isaac finds himself eternally bound to Jory. He has to have the man's blood in order to survive. But when Jory wants something in return, can Isaac submit enough to allow it, or will his demon nature take over and cause him to lose the best thing that ever happened to him?
Note: This book was previously published under the title Blood Sacrifice with another publisher. This updated version has been extensively revised and expanded an additional 18,373 words. http://www.bookstrand.com/book/primal-oath
Sam Breeden is a highly skilled operative known as SABRE.
Genetically engineered, Sam is very good at what he does, but his propensity to
act on the truth, and not his orders, continually lands him on the bad side of
his handlers. When he’s instructed to find, and eliminate, a mythical assassin
known only as Absinthe, Sam quickly becomes aware all is not as it seems. He
suspects the evidence against Absinthe was planted and goes against his
The man called
Absinthe holds the key to Sam’s past. He inserts himself into Sam’s orbit – and
bed – with the intent to lead Sam to the truth. He’s not guilty of the crime,
but he’s far from innocent. He knows Sam’s been played by his agency and the
path to their survival means walking a crooked line.
Finding the truth isn’t easy, and believing it is even
harder. Sam and Absinthe make a desperate play for freedom, because if they
can’t get free, they can never be together.
And that’s when it hit
“It was you in DC, in the
Romp Club. You kept buying me shots and we ended up in my hotel room. You
slipped me a roofie, you bastard.” I propped up on an elbow. “And me without my gun.”
He held his hands up in a
surrendering gesture. “Sorry about the Rohypnol. I’m not armed, Sam. I mean you
no harm.” He rolled to his knees and fell back against the plush pillows. I
“So why target me? You’re
that interested in my ten-inch cock?”
He shook his head. “Ten
inch? Now who’s having sexual fantasies? I’m interested in Frederick Milan.”
“I find it very curious
you know that name. Pick up the phone and call room service. I want a big
pitcher of iced tea.”
He leaned back. “And let
them all know you’re a Yank? Make the call yourself, mate.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then
get anything cold and refreshing. Sparkling water. How’s that?”
He picked up the hotel
phone and placed my request - along with two steak dinners and two bottles of a
pricey Cabernet. He set the receiver back in the cradle and turned to me.
“Are you finished
watching me, Sam?”
“Nope, so get used to it.
Frederick Milan. Talk, now.”
“Milan was collateral
damage.” He looked worried. “Melvin McCune wants you out of the way.”
If he thought McCune
wanting me to disappear was news to me, he was sadly mistaken. “Yeah? So? Who
do you work for? What the hell is your name, anyway?”
“All in due time. Milan
stumbled upon some records that were supposedly destroyed. And you can call me
I snorted. “Well,
‘Darling’, I’m very interested in where you’re getting your information.”
“I just bet you are,
We stared at each other,
and not with lustful longing or budding friendship. But maybe there was a bit
of grudging respect floating between us.
“Look, ‘Darling’. I know
you can’t tip your hand too far. Neither can I. You’re correct. I’ve got a problem with McCune. But I want
to know why and how a middle-aged banker, a do-gooder, ends up dead in the
middle of what might be a mob hit.”
That got his attention.
“Mob hit? How do you figure?”
“You said look into
Hawkes. I did. He’s got Chicago political connections and that could indicate
organized crime. If you can believe anything on the Internet, that is.” I
didn’t tell him I likely had more information waiting. Deborah had surely
dumped whatever she’d found on my server by now.
He scratched his chin.
“The only dot that connects here is Hawkes is the one who wants Milan’s death
investigated. He called McCune and invited the NSCA to become involved, being
Milan is an American citizen, and all.”
I stretched, arching my
back and wiggling my toes. “Darling” was correct, but I sensed something more
sinister at work. I beat my pillow to fluff it. “And Hawkes is Sinope,
something the Internet doesn’t know. He’d have the clout to have Milan silenced
and to make any evidence implicating himself vanish. So why would he call the
NSCA if he’s implicated in anything? That’s a hanging dot for me. It doesn’t
connect based on what little we know.”
“So we really need to
know what Milan was doing.”
I stared at him again.
“We? We? Who’s ‘we’?”
“Darling” looked out the
window. “London’s nice, but I like Paris. City of Light and all that.”
I stood, stepped out of
my jeans, and draped them over a chair. I either had to avail myself of the
laundry service or have some new clothes delivered.
“Darling, I’m not fond of
Paris. I killed man there.”
I was surprised by the
compassion in his blue eyes. “I know it was self-defense.”
How much about me did he
know? Did he know I still had nightmares about what had happened in Paris? I
shook my head.
“It doesn’t matter that
he pulled a gun and got off a shot at me. There was a truth to learn and I
He couldn’t tell me after I put him down.”
“You won’t fail this
time. You’ve got me on your side.”
Inexplicably, his words
buoyed my spirit. I didn’t want him to see that in me so I rolled my eyes at
him. “Why am I not reassured?”
The heroes of Lavintia need the mysterious demigod Xenoskar’s help, but
his price is the submission of one of their most beautiful members. Will
it be the sweet and compliant Rin-Timber, his defiant and unnaturally
possessive older twin brother Taylen - or both of them?
Unlike the popular bank, Chase Whittaker has no money. However, living on the northwest side of Chicago in a rundown building with no car, and no savings hasn’t made him totally undesirable. His good looks and charm make up for everything he seems to lack. Still, it’s not enough to stop his landlord from threatening to sell the building where he owns the store his grandfather opened.
Micah Strickland is the child of famous football player Thomas Strickland and a ghostwriter. Though he’s never hurting for money, He can’t seem to find a man who wants the same things he does. Insecurities about being accepted as a gay and black man also prohibit him from being happy. He does everything to prove he fits in and even after all that, Micah hasn’t found anyone who’s interested in a committed relationship.
When Micah visits Chase’s shop, the sparks fly almost immediately. Chase makes Micah feel special and seems to understand Micah’s battle with wanting to be accepted. But the possible relocation of the bookstore is a dark cloud over their budding romance.
As one issue lends itself to another, Micah finds himself battling what he’s feeling for Chase and loyalties to his father. The question now becomes, will he be able to honor his father without losing the man he’s come to love?