Ally – Page 6 – A. L. Lester

Guest Post: Holly Day

Hello, everyone! Thank you, lovely Ally, for allowing me to visit again 😘 I’m mostly here to boast today. Each and every one of us should blow our own trumpet more often. You’re doing amazing things, and you deserve some praise, even if it’s you doing the praising.

I recently signed a contract for my 24th story in 24 months. I haven’t written them all in 24 months, but my first story published as Holly Day was released in January 2021, and since then, I’ve had one release every month. The contract I recently signed means 2022 is done! 🥳

It’s become a challenge to have a story out every month, and some, like this month’s story, are short. I would never be able to do it if all stories were longer stories.

On September 17th Dear Diary will be released, and it’s 35 pages. And some of those 35 pages are airy 😁

If you’ve read any of my stories before, you might know that I write in third person and most often double POV. Not this time. This month we’re celebrating Dear Diary Day, so I’ve written a diary.

The reason I write in third person and (most often) double POV is that I feel trapped in first person. I feel that I’m only telling half a story when I’m only using one person’s POV and that I can’t tell the truth (silly, since I write fiction and none of it is true) if I’m not giving both sides. One person’s truth is another person’s lie.

So when I decided to do a diary, I had doubts. Major doubts. Not only would I be trapped in first person, but I would also be trapped in first person retelling the first-person’s lies LOL.

While writing it, I had some moments of frustration. I felt restricted, confined, and reduced. But do you know what? I’m quite in love with this story.

It’s not like my others, not at all. But I think I needed a break from that, and writing this, having to figure out a way to tell a story without my usual means, was an inspiring challenge.

I’m back to writing third person double POV now. I’m not converted! But I’m glad I wrote this one 😊

Below you can read an excerpt, and I should probably warn you… There are more than a few bad words. The guy writing the story is suffering from depression and his therapist, Janet, has asked him to write a diary every day where he lists at least three positive things. And the dickhead is his boss.

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

My therapist wants me to write a diary to help me manage my depression. I have no idea how it’ll work, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

All I want is for life to go back to the way it was before I walked in on Christopher and Jason. Or maybe not because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive Christopher for cheating on me in our bed, but I want to function as I did before that moment. Before I lost everything.

Do you remember Lars Olsen from school? I do my best to stay away, but it’s like he’s magnetic and pulls me in every time I see him. I shouldn’t be dating. I don’t want to force my crazy on anyone, but he’s asked me to dinner. He deserves a sane partner, so it would be unfair to go, wouldn’t it?

Buy Dear Diary:

JMS Book :: Amazon :: books2read.com/DearDiaryDay

Excerpt

Tuesday, September 13th

Dear Diary,
I think Lars works at the gym across from work. Either he was working or he was feeling some woman up while showing her how the torture device closest to the window works.
He was wearing black today, which is the smarter choice. You never know when some idiot will pour their coffee all over you, at least black disguises some of it. Sigh.
I think he saw me. He waved, but I pretended I couldn’t see due to the sun reflecting on the window.
It was raining.
Of course, it was raining. There I was, looking like a drowned cat, and he was smiling. Had I been sane, I would have waved back, but I’m not sane, and Lars deserves someone more… More is a good word. He deserves someone who is more.
I was late to see the cunt, seven minutes, but she acted as if I wasn’t. I wish I was a smoker, then I would have stood in the rain and smoked instead of walking in. I hate her office. It smells of citrus.
She insists I call her Janet.
She wanted to know how I found writing a diary, and I told her I was the next Anne Frank. Then I apologized because my God! How can I say things like that? So stupid! Anne Frank was hiding from the fucking Nazis. All I did was being spotted while hiding in the bathroom at work. Okay, they found me crying in the bathroom.
I can’t remember why I was crying, but it was nothing in comparison to the Nazis. No one will find this diary, print it, and be horrified about the way I’m treated. I bet Janet would’ve stopped reading by now.
They still whisper when I walk into the staff room, the bitches at work, not the Nazis. I’m sure it’s me they’re whispering about. Erin has always been a gossip, but Janet said I shouldn’t assume. Easy for her to say.
I asked the dickhead how long I had to keep seeing Janet. He wants me to go until I am well again. Well? Is anybody well? Was I well before I knocked my coffee cup over and soaked the notes I was processing and had a breakdown in the restroom? No.
This fucking world…

1. My breakfast coffee was okay.
2. My walking-to-Janet’s-office Caramel Latte was nice.
3. Lars waving through the window.

About Holly Day

According to Holly Day, no day should go by uncelebrated and all of them deserve a story. If she’ll have the time to write them remains to be seen. She lives in rural Sweden with a husband, four children, more pets than most, and wouldn’t last a day without coffee.

Holly gets up at the crack of dawn most days of the week to write gay romance stories. She believes in equality in fiction and in real life. Diversity matters. Representation matters. Visibility matters. We can change the world one story at the time.

Connect with Holly on social media:

Website :: Facebook :: Twitter :: Pinterest :: BookBub :: Goodreads :: Newsletter

Guest Post by K. L. Noone: The Naming of Weather

Hi there, and thanks again to Ally for letting me drop by to share a new release! (You’re very welcome!)

“The Naming of Weather” came out from JMS Books a couple of days ago—it’s about 8k, m/m, the latest (perhaps penultimate) bonus story for Jason and Colby, my Character Bleed main characters! In this one, they’re doing some wedding-planning, and Colby’s got a question about names and name-changing…

There also might be some poolside comfort sex. And calligraphy.

This story came about because of conversations with friends, honestly: a while ago—back when I was writing the first draft of the whole Character Bleed trilogy!—we ended up having discussions about whether Colby and Jason would take each other’s names, or if they’d combine or hyphenate. And, well—if you want to know the answer, there definitely is one in the story, and it suits them, I suspect…

A small bit of trivia: I have more songs on the playlist—some Fratellis, a bit of The Doors, and Bright Eyes—but the overall theme song for this one, which is a very Colby song, is “Aside” by The Weakerthans, which I’ve always loved: circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty / armed with every precious failure and amateur cartography…

Thanks for reading!

The Naming of Weather

Colby Kent and Jason Mirelli are getting married. Colby’s trying to balance wedding planning, writing the next award-winning screenplay, and a new life in his new home with Jason. He’s happier than he ever thought he’d be. But he’s got a question or two. He could use Jason’s help, but he doesn’t want Jason to worry.

Jason likes making Colby happy. He’s happy too: right where he belongs, at Colby’s side, together on movie sets and at home. But he can’t help worrying. Colby still forgets to eat, and to put on sunblock when swimming, and now Colby has a question. About their wedding.

Fortunately, it’s a question they agree on…

Amazon

JMS Books

Everywhere else

Excerpt

“Thinking about that…the wedding plans, and such…”

“Picking a calligraphy style?”

Jason had noticed the pen and notebook, then; Colby, entertained and in love, drew a J across his fiancé’s bicep, fingertip a writing implement for an instant. “No, that was only random. Keeping my fingers busy, while thinking about all the emails and production questions and answers for Jillian. Purely meditative, I’m afraid, this time.”

“I like it when you’re happy. So if not that, then what?”

“Ah…it might be an odd question. Or perhaps not. I don’t know.”

Jason moved a hand, stroked hair out of Colby’s face, gently defied the tugging breeze on his behalf. “Ask me whatever you want, cream puff.”

“Well…yes. All right. About the wedding plans…this was on a checklist I saw, and I hadn’t thought, but then I thought, well, if that might be perhaps a question, and then I thought about the question…” He’d begun now. No going back. “Do you want me to take your name?”

“Do I want you to—” Jason stopped. The afternoon skipped a beat, suspended in gold.

Even the breeze got expectant. Hushed. Paying attention.

“Colby,” Jason said, sitting back more. His hands were solid on Colby’s shoulders, one moving to touch Colby’s chin, to ensure their eyes met. He did not move much other than that, as if afraid to shatter a crystal moment.

“It was only a question?” Colby said, and then realized that that’d come out as a question, and cringed internally at himself.

Jason swallowed. “I know. Um…before I say anything…can you do something for me?”

“Of course, anything—”

“Think about how you just asked me that. What you said.”

“Whether you want me to…oh.” He heard it, then. About what Jason wanted: not about what he, Colby, wanted, nor about them deciding together. “Oh. I didn’t mean…I don’t know what I meant. I’m sorry.”

This time Jason flinched, visibly. Grief in those deep earth-rich wells, windows right down into a giant heart that opened up and bled for everyone.

Colby bit his lip, and then, because he meant it and because he had a decent guess about the reaction he’d provoke, grumbled, “Oh, damn.”

Jason blinked. Eyebrows going up. “You swear now?”

“Learning from the best. I could’ve said fuck.”

“I can count on maybe four fingers the number of times you’ve said fuck.”

“Only if you’re allowed to count multiple times as one, because I’m very sure I was begging you to, er, do that, that time. And I said it more than once. About now, and the question…all right, yes, I can hear it now. I didn’t even think about it. About how I…thought about it. Except I’m not sure I do. Or I didn’t mean to. Like George and the flowers.”

Jason clearly spent a couple of seconds working this out, and then said, “Because he doesn’t actually mean the complaining? Oh. Okay. Because the way he says it isn’t what he actually means. It’s what he’s used to.”

“Yes. And…it’s even fun for him, I think.”

“Got it. But you don’t need to apologize.”

“That one’s more of a work in progress, I’m afraid.” He leaned in, leaned weight against Jason; felt those massive protective arms go around him. Head on Jason’s shoulder, he added, “Let me try that first question again, then. Would you like it, and that’s me honestly asking because I want to know, so, would you like it if I took your name?”

Jason made a small considering rumbling sound, a shift of earth under sun and shade. Colby snuck a hand up under the clinging shirt just to touch heated skin and fabulous muscle.

Jason said, slowly, not as if hesitant but as if he’d not thought much about it, “It doesn’t really matter to me, I think?”

Colby, surprised, realized his fingers had stopped exploring Jason’s abs, at the first words.

“I don’t mean it doesn’t matter!” Jason had plainly also noticed the cessation of motion. “You can touch me, baby, touch me anywhere you want. Go on. I mean…I don’t know. I guess I feel like…it’s not up to me. It’s your name. And I don’t need you to do that. It really doesn’t…I think what I’m trying to say is, I know you love me. And I love you. And we’ll be married. No matter what our names are.”

“I know,” Colby agreed. “All of that.”

“So I guess it doesn’t matter to me, but…not in a bad way?” Jason let out a breath, wry about himself or his next thought or both. “Hell, I’ll change mine if you want. You’ve already got four names, and one of them’s Algernon.”

Meet Kristin

K.L. Noone teaches college students about superheroes and Shakespeare by day, and writes romance – frequently paranormal or with fantasy elements, usually LGBTQ, and always with happy endings – when not grading papers or researching medieval outlaw life. She lives with the Awesome Husband and a large black cat named Merlyn, who demands treats on a regular basis.

Twitter : Instagram : Blog (I’ve utterly failed at actually updating the book list on here, but the blog gets updated!) : Facebook : Amazon author page : JMS Books author page

#RAtR: My three favourite non-romance books

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

I missed August’s topic because I’m still convalescing from what I think I have to say is the absolute worst summer I’ve ever had, including the one where we went bankrupt, lost our house three weeks before our baby was due, my dad and two good friends died and Mr AL’s parents went bonkers.

HOWEVER. It was a good topic and I am feeling incrementally better each day. I’m thoroughly enjoying not having a gallbladder. I recommend it. For your delectation therefore, may I present you with my three favourite non-romance books?

I’ve pulled the covers of my own editions from Goodreads, but all of them have a lot of alternatives. I read sci-fi and historicals, basically!

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Le Guin

This was transformative for me. Firstly because LeGuin’s writing is so lyrical. And secondly because of her portrayal of a society where people are of both/neither gender. The book is part of her Hainish universe and I devoured them all, repeatedly, via the travelling library that visited my family farm during my teenage years.

Although her books are hard sci-fi, they are very people-centred. She examined the classic what would happen to society if I changed these one or two things? question again and again in her stories, perfectly.

Genly Ai is an emissary from the human galaxy to Winter, a lost, stray world. His mission is to bring the planet back into the fold of an evolving galactic civilization, but to do so he must bridge the gulf between his own culture and prejudices and those that he encounters. On a planet where people are of no gender–or both–this is a broad gulf indeed.

The Lymond Books by Dorothy Dunnett (blatant cheat, there are six)

Another series I owe the travelling library! I graduated to Dorothy Dunnett via Jean Plaidy when I was about thirteen or fourteen. Dunnett was a historian and her work reflects that…her portrayal of sixteenth century Europe and the Ottoman and Russian empires are absorbing and detailed and her characters step off the page and haunt you. I can remember reading Pawn in Frankincense in the common room at breaktime at school and being in tears.

The “Lymond Chronicles” is a series of six novels exploring the intricacies of 16th-century history through the exploits of the soldier Francis Crawford of Lymond.

A Deepness in the Sky by Verner Vinge

It was a toss-up between this one and Vinge’s A Fire Upon the Deep, which has the best alien life-form ever–they are distributed systems made up of puppies.

However, this one is the prequel so it slipped in by a fine hair. I’m not going to tell you what the aliens are like, because that would entirely spoil it for you. But they are fantastic. Their planet circles a star that switches on and off (and we’re left with the possibility it might be artificial) and the whole ecosystem is wired around that, including the intelligent lifeforms. There are two groups of humans who are fighting it out in orbit around the planet for trading rights with the first alien species they’ve discovered. And the aliens are also involved in what’s basically a planet-side foreverwar.

After thousands of years searching, humans stand on the verge of first contact with an alien race. Two human groups: the Qeng Ho, a culture of free traders, and the Emergents, a ruthless society based on the technological enslavement of minds.

The group that opens trade with the aliens will reap unimaginable riches. But first, both groups must wait at the aliens’ very doorstep for their strange star to relight and for their planet to reawaken, as it does every two hundred and fifty years….

Then, following terrible treachery, the Qeng Ho must fight for their freedom and for the lives of the unsuspecting innocents on the planet below, while the aliens themselves play a role unsuspected by the Qeng Ho and Emergents alike.

For my fellow #RAtR bloggers posts about their favourite non-romances, follow these links:

Ofelia Gränd :: K.L. Noone :: Amy Spector :: Addison Albright :: Fiona Glass :: Ellie Thomas :: Lillian Francis : Nell Iris

#SampleSunday… The Quid Pro Quo

I’m jumping on the #SampleSunday hashtag on twitter this week, with an excerpt from The Quid Pro Quo for you…

The Quid Pro Quo is a romantic historical paranormal murder-mystery set in 1920s rural England where nearly everyone is queer and the main couple is m/transm. Think Agatha Christie, but queer! With monsters! It’s the sequel to The Fog of War, but it works as a standalone set in the Border Magic universe.

Simon pressed the heel of his hand down onto the place the pain was radiating from. That usually helped. He sometimes wondered if there was anything still left in there. He should probably get it looked at. X-rayed, they called it, didn’t they? The hospital in Taunton had a machine, he knew.
He sighed. “Look, I didn’t just come up to show off my weaknesses to you.”
Kennett made a harrumphing sound that could have been a laugh.
“I came to ask about two things. Her alibi. And the way she describes what happened at the seance.”
“Look,” Kennett drew a breath and said in a firm voice, “she didn’t do it.”
Simon glared up at him, not quite ready to get up off the bench and fall over into the other man’s arms again. “That’s all very well. But you can’t just say that and then tell me you can’t say why you know!”
Kennett screwed up his face. “I just can’t, Mr Frost. And that’s all there is to it.”
Simon managed to stand. For all Kennett was small, he was intimidating. He scowled furiously up at Simon, face creased with anger. There was no trace of the sardonic wit about him now.
“Was she with you that night?” Simon asked quietly. It seemed unlikely, a girl like Miss Hall-Bridges and Kennett, who was a good twenty years older than her if he was a day and a lowly ex-soldier to boot. But he’d seen stranger relationships.
Kennett choked. “Bloody hell, no!” he said, almost with a shudder. “Absolutely definitely the wrong tree, Detective Frost!” There! He did return Simon’s interest, else Simon was a Dutchman.
Simon took another wobbling step forward and Kennett stepped back. Simon finally felt as if he was getting somewhere. There was something there. Why were they all protecting the woman? It was clear she was the best suspect—on paper, she had reason. But it was also clear that despite the evidence, nobody thought she’d done it. Including Simon.
Not that a lot of other people didn’t have reason to dislike the victim as well by the sound of it. His take-away from speaking to people who knew her painted a picture of the deceased as an entitled, arrogant woman who expected people to jump to her tune. He stopped that train of thought. There was never a reason to kill anyone. Never. Just because most of the people he knew had spent the last few years seeing that as the solution to all their problems didn’t mean it was right.
He drew a breath. “Then point me toward the right tree for goodness sake! If you have evidence that it wasn’t her, you’re morally obliged to let me have it!” he said, finally after a moment of silence.
Kennett shook his head again. “No, Detective Frost. I can’t. It’s not my place.”
Simon eyed him narrowly. He was backed up against the wall of the hallway, calm and not at all intimidated by Simon’s greater height.
“Do you know who killed her?” Simon asked him.
Kennett’s eyes flicked away and back again. He shook his head. “No. I don’t.” He knew something though. He finally sighed and stepped forward, putting him chest to chest with Simon and Simon had no alternative but to step to one side and let him past unless he wanted to make something of it. And he didn’t. He really didn’t. He moved aside.
Simon was left looking after him as he went down the hall to the kitchen, the door propped open against the building heat of the day. He followed him into the room, watching him fill the kettle and put it on, helplessly standing there with his hands fisted in frustration at his sides, hot with irritation in the warmth of the morning and the lit range.
“We’re done here,” Kennett said, sliding the kettle onto the hotplate and turning to face him. “You should leave, before Dr Marks gets home.”
“What, so you can sort out an alibi for Miss Hall-Bridges between you?” Simon said snarkily.
There was quite a long pause and then, from behind him, Dr Marks’ voice, deep and calm and very, very flat said, “No need, Detective Frost. Lucy and I share a bed. She didn’t go anywhere, all night.”
The silence was as absolute as if a shell had gone off and deafened him.
`

AMazon

publisher

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Holly Day: The Book Dragon’s Lair

Hi! Thank you, Ally, for allowing me to swing by 🥰 I’m Holly Day, and for those who don’t know me, I write stories to celebrate all those crazy holidays out there.

This month, we’re celebrating Bookstore Romance Day, so I wrote The Book Dragon’s Lair, and I had so much fun with it. I turned it into a dragon tale since books and bookshops made me think of book dragons, and, so… yeah, dragons 😆

It takes place in a town called Edge since it’s right on the edge of the portal leading to the dragon realm. There are a few dragons who have chosen to live among the humans instead of on the other side of the veil, and they’re all living on Dragon Row. Dragons be dragons, they’re trading for things they can put in their treasure caves.

Egil is human and believes he’s mated to Draken the Dreadful and forever trapped in an abusive relationship. He isn’t, though. This isn’t a fated mate story, so everyone has a choice in who they mate with, well everyone but Egil who was forced to accept Draken.

When a dragon finds someone they want to spend the rest of their lives with, they share the breath of life. All Egil knows is that dragons, when bonded, stay together forever. He doesn’t realise he isn’t bonded, and he has never heard of the breath of life.

When Draken is called away to fight in a war on the other side of the veil, no one is happier than Egil, but then word of Draken being injured and on his way back reaches him, and he considers running away.

How do you hide from a dragon?

The dragon stepping into the bookshop isn’t Draken. He claims to be, but Egil knows his mate, and the one standing before him is not Draken the Dreadful.

Ryu the Ravenous wants nothing more than to escape his responsibilities in the dragon realm and spend the rest of his days among the humans. When Draken and Ryu are attacked during guard duty, Ryu is injured, and Draken is killed. Ryu seizes the opportunity and pretends to be Draken. He lets his family believe he was the one who died, and by pretending to be Draken, he’s allowed into the human realm and back to his (Draken’s) mate.

Convincing Egil he is Draken isn’t as easy as he’d first believed. And he’s heard the humans had the magic beverage called coffee, but it turns out to be a bitter drink and not magical at all – this is fiction, people! We all know coffee is magical 😆

The Book Dragon’s Lair

Egil Olsen is running The Book Dragon’s Lair, a bookstore on Dragon Row, while Draken the Dreadful, his mate, is away fighting a war on the other side of the veil. The relief of not having Draken around is great. For the first time in years, Egil doesn’t have to watch every move he makes. When word reaches him that Draken is on his way home after having been injured, he considers running away.

The dragon stepping over the threshold to The Book Dragon’s Lair isn’t Draken, though. He claims to be, but Egil knows his mate, and while all dragons are dangerous, the male standing before him is nowhere near as cruel as his mate. Ryu never wanted to be a book dragon. Books don’t sparkle, but if it’s the price he has to pay to be in the human realm, he will pay it. He’ll take over Draken the Dreadful’s treasure, and he hopes he can take over his mate, too. Egil doesn’t want to be mated to a dragon, but without a mate, he’d be homeless and without a job.

A few hours after having met Ryu, Egil thinks being mated to him might not be too bad, but how will they be able to fool the people around them into believing Ryu is Draken? And what will happen if the real Draken comes back?

Gay paranormal romance: 33,671 words

JMS Books : Amazon : All the others!

Excerpt:

Ryu watched Egil interact with the customers. When he’d come down after having disposed of the vile drink he’d heard so much good about—so far, the human realm was a disappointment—Egil had been gone. A few minutes later, he’d come in through the front door with an expression on his face Ryu couldn’t decipher.
He muttered about having checked something out in the pawnshop, then he’d gone to work. Ryu wasn’t sure what he did, but he fiddled through papers, stacked some books, and when someone came into the store, he helped them find what they were looking for.
Draken should have expressed more pride when talking about him. He worked hard and little by little the stack of paper notes increased in the machine on the counter. It was fascinating to watch.
Ryu quickly divided the customers into two categories—those who came inside wide-eyed and looked around until they spotted Ryu, and those who came inside to sneer at Egil.
One female was so rude, Ryu growled. She jumped at the sound and stared at him. Ryu would’ve bet the tip of his tail she hadn’t noticed he was in the room before then.
When the clock finally showed six o’clock in the evening, Egil turned the sign hanging on the door and locked it.
“All done?” Ryu was starving, but he didn’t know what to eat here. He’d only had the coffee, and it had put him off human food a bit.
“Yes, I only need to close out the cash register.”
Ryu had no idea what it meant. “And then we eat?”
“Ah… yeah… we don’t have any food other than toast. I need to shop and we’ll need a new phone since you… erm… broke the old one.”
Nodding, Ryu watched him press some buttons, only to have the machine print another paper note. There were so many notes on this side of the veil.
“I can hunt for something we can eat.” His mouth watered as he imagined meat roasting over an open fire.
Egil stared at him. “What?”
“Hunt. Don’t you hunt?”
Shaking his head, Egil emptied the machine on paper notes and held them out to Ryu. Hesitantly, he took them. “What am I to do with them?”
“They’re yours. Put them in the safe.”
He fished out the key he’d taken off Draken from his pocket. “In the treasure cave?”
Egil pushed his palms against the counter and looked at him. “Who are you?”
“Draken the—”
“You’re not Draken, not the real Draken.”
“Ryu the Ravenous.”
Egil blew out a shuddering breath. “Okay, Ryu the Ravenous, what are you doing here, and how did you come over Draken’s key? He’s gonna kill us both.”
Ryu snorted. As if Draken could’ve killed him if he’d been alive. He was a sad excuse for a dragon.
Egil continued to stare. “Are you related to him?”
Ryu scowled. Related to Draken the Dreadful? Luckily, Draken’s mother hadn’t hatched more than one egg. There was talk about her laying another one, but maybe she should refrain considering how the first one came out. “I’m Ryu the Ravenous, my skin is close to onyx, and I know those who live on the Sapphire Mountains.”
Egil’s eyes widened more, and Ryu feared those gemstones would fall out of his skull.
“Do you mean no? Draken won’t kill us?”
Ryu puffed smoke in frustration.
“Don’t set the books on fire! If you need to burn something, go outside.”
Need to burn? No one ever needed to burn anything. Fire was a weapon and a tool, not something you needed to use.
“It’s a no. Draken the Dreadful was a dreadful excuse for a dragon. I’m close to royal.”
Egil blinked and Ryu was glad to see his eyelids still could close around the huge eyes. “You’re royal?”
“Close to.”
Egil gripped the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. “This is bad.”
“No, it’s not. I had a huge treasure cave on the other side of the veil.” And many who wanted to be his mate. Why didn’t Egil want to be his mate? He was close to royal and while he hadn’t had the opportunity to add anything to his treasure on this side of the veil yet, he would. He hadn’t looked, hadn’t unlocked the grid doors on the second and third floor. He didn’t understand books—he understood written text, but not the worth of books—and he was a little afraid to have a look.
“Why are you here, then?” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but Ryu heard him.
“I’ve claimed Draken’s treasure.”
“You didn’t claim it. You pretended to be him.” Then those topaz eyes widened again. “If the reverend finds out…”
“I’ll eat the reverend. I’ve never had human, but right now I’m hungry enough to eat anything, and he annoys me.”
Egil made a sound. At first, Ryu feared he was crying. It sounded like a sob and his shoulders shook, but then a laugh spilled out. It wasn’t joyous though, more on the verge of sobs. Maybe he was hungry, too. Hunger could turn anyone unstable.
“Let’s have this toast you’re talking about.” He believed it was something humans did from grains. He read, he wasn’t a complete imbecile, but right now he didn’t trust anything he’d learned. Coffee was supposed to be magical, and it hadn’t been.

JMS Books : Amazon : All the others!

About Holly Day

Connect with Holly on social media:

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