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Egyptian Lovers Teaser

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Dark Paranormal Romance

Date Published: July 31, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

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In the desert sands of Egypt, three lovers battle a maniacal curse. Only
their love can save them.

 

Half vampire, half sphinx, Kahma roams the deserts of Egypt, praying for death
— until his lost love returns, reincarnated as archeologist Emma Bonham. But
to fulfill the passion Kahma offers, Emma must part with her life.

Fascinated by the tale of Emma Bonham’s disappearance some eighty years
ago, Carson Bonham comes to Egypt to unravel the mystery. But the bloody
carnage of Karnak’s history has a way of repeating itself. The struggle
to keep Carson alive will be a death defying act for the powerful vampire
Sopdet.

Alexis Peters has no intention of returning to Egypt, until a mysterious dream
lover promises endless pleasure if she will just return to him. Little does
Alexis know she’s bound to her Egyptian savior, the legendary sphinx,
Amenhotep…


Publisher’s Note: Egyptian Lovers Box Set contains the previously released
novellas Kahma, Sopdet, and Ardeth & Amenhotep.

 

Egyptian Lovers paperback

 

 

Excerpt from Kahma

Abydos, Egypt
November 1926

Emma Bonham moaned and writhed with Corey Dunham’s head between her thighs and
his strong hands holding her against his busy mouth. His tongue speared deep
into her moist opening, thrusting like a cock and she moaned again, but more
for his benefit than from the pleasure she couldn’t focus on. Slurping, wet
noises filled Emma’s small tent as she played along, trying to relax into a
good fuck.

She just couldn’t.

Emma closed her eyes and sighed blissfully at what she hoped were believable
intervals as Corey’s tongue fucked her. It was so hard to focus. Her mind had
been spinning since they’d finally reached Abydos that evening, the most
sacred site in all of Egypt.

Abydos. Emma had spent much of her life longing to see the ancient necropolis
and the famous tombs there. Tombs of ancient kings, temples of ancient gods.

Her hips left the ground as Corey’s fingers played with her half-swollen clit.
Corey did have nice hands and fingers and he knew just what to do with them.
He’d been her lover for several months now. They’d met when he’d joined the
expedition that her Aunt Elspeth coordinated back in London. Corey had been on
a few expeditions to Egypt before, though his experience wasn’t vast. He had
more than enough experience in bed for Emma, who’d had no experiences before
Corey. Emma had been as curious about sex as everything else, perpetual
student that she was and Corey more than satisfied her curiosity on a number
of carnal acts. She was attracted to him, trusted him.

Emma wasn’t in love with Corey by any means. She liked him immensely. Corey
was an attentive, considerate lover and Emma enjoyed their lovemaking.

Normally.

“You taste so damn good, Emma.” Corey slid a finger into her pussy to replace
his darting tongue. “I want you to come for me.”

The heavy canvas of the tent rippled as the strong winds whipped around it in
the desert beyond. It was just one more thing to break Emma’s concentration.
She began to wonder if a sandstorm was coming. Emma also wondered if she’d
ever see a sandstorm. Emma could play along and fake it but she didn’t want to
do that to Corey. Sighing, Emma pulled herself up, surprising Corey enough
that he pulled his fingers from her sheath. Before she could say anything, a
desperate cry ripped open the tranquility of the night.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The frantic male cry had Corey, who was mostly dressed, on his feet and Emma
scrambling to find her discarded robe. Pulling it on as fast as she could,
Emma stayed right on Corey’s heels as he sped out of the tent. Naked beneath
the robe she held tightly to herself and with her hair flying wildly about
her, Emma struggled to keep up with him as he raced toward the tent of Alan
Burns, the expedition leader and her friend. The rest of their group had
already gathered there.

Peering over the shoulder of Alice Henderson, one of the artists in their
expedition, Emma spotted the group’s writer kneeling over Alan’s unmoving body
in the sand. Frantically, Daniel Woods pressed his fingers to Alan’s throat,
searching for signs of life.

“He’s dead,” Daniel announced, his face stricken.

A bolt of shock and fear shot through Emma. Alan was dead? How could that be?
Emma was as fond of the kind older gentleman as her Aunt Elspeth. If not for
him, Emma’s aunt would never have allowed her to go on the expedition. Her
aunt’s confidence in Alan Burns and his vast knowledge of Egypt and all its
sites had won out in the end. That and the man’s solemn promise to her aunt
that he’d watch over Emma and keep her safe.

Tears stung the back of Emma’s eyes. This is horrible.

Alice started to sob quietly in front of Emma while Corey pushed his way past
the others and into the tent. Emma watched as Corey joined Daniel in searching
the fallen man’s body for any clues as to what had killed him. The wind ripped
at Emma’s robe and hair from where she stood just outside the tent as tears
slid down her face. Holding her breath just like the others, she waited.

Corey’s features turned hard and he pointed to the older man’s ankle.

“What is it?” Emma called out to Corey.

Corey seemed not to hear her at first. He started searching the sand around
him, his eyes round and filled with alarm.

“A snake bite.” Corey’s green eyes met Emma’s. “It looks like an asp bite.
What an asp is doing out here, I don’t know. They usually stick to the shrubs
and hillsides. They are not desert dwellers.”

“Perhaps it got into Alan’s bags in Cairo,” Daniel suggested.

Corey nodded. “It’s possible.”

“Dear God in Heaven.” Alice, with her stout little body, took a step back and
bumped into Emma. “It could still be here.”

All eyes flew to the ground, searching the sand in the dim light provided by
the fires that burned inside the circle of their tents.

“Watch your step.” Corey’s voice took on a more authoritative tone as he met
the eyes of each of the remaining members of the group in turn. “Be mindful of
this. Check your blankets before you go to sleep and check your clothing
before you put it on. Reach into your bags with caution.”

Dashing out of the tent and to her side, Corey gently took Emma’s arm. “I’ll
see you to your tent.”

With Alan gone, Corey had to take charge now. Emma easily read the tension in
the hard set of his face, felt it in the hand that lightly gripped her arm.
Corey was older than her, but still young, only in his late twenties. He’d
never led an expedition before. He’d told her that he’d never been to Abydos
before either. All that considered, he still had more experience in exploring
Egypt than anyone else in the group.

Corey gently turned her to face him when they reached her tent. With gentle
fingers, he brushed at the tears on her face.

“I am sorry about Alan.” Corey pulled her into his arms, holding her against
his hard, warm body. “I wish I could stay here with you, but I can’t. I, at
least, want to know where you are and that you’re safe. Emma, be careful and
try to get some rest.”

Emma was vaguely aware of his hands smoothing her hair, the warm kisses he
dropped on her head. She didn’t even care that he was holding her in such a
familiar way in plain sight of the others. Surely, they had to know Corey was
her lover by now.

Yet, so many emotions gripped her heart with a tightly closed fist. She’d just
lost a dear friend. If that weren’t bad enough, they’d also lost the one
person in the expedition who’d been to Abydos before and knew how to get back.
How to survive here…

What will become of us now?

Corey pulled back to gaze down into her face, his expression grave. “Go to
your tent now, Emma. Try to rest.”

Emma nodded, not envying Corey the position in which he now found himself. Now
he was responsible for the remaining six expedition members: three artists, a
writer, an organizer and Emma.

�”What will we do now?” Emma gently brushed a lock of his brown hair from his
creased forehead.

“First we have to take care of Alan,” Corey explained. “We’ll talk about the
rest in the morning.”

Brushing her lips with the lightest of kisses, Corey turned and headed back to
the dead man’s tent. Emma watched him, her heart heavy in her chest.

An image of Alan Burns’ gentle smile flashed in her mind. When he smiled he
had always reminded her of her father who’d died when she was just a child. He
had taken on the role of father figure to Emma as she’d gotten to know him
over the years. She was going to miss Alan, and Aunt Elspeth would be
devastated when she learned of his death.

Little chance she’d get any rest this night.

A strong wind blew Emma off balance before she could enter her tent, stinging
her skin lightly with grains of sand. She stumbled but didn’t fall as the air
whistled around her body in the strangest way.

Being a native of London, Emma was used to cold winds that chilled a person to
their bones and made them shiver for hours. This was something else entirely.
This wind was hot and moved across her skin like a lover’s hand, touching her.
That was the only way to describe it. A warm rush of wind penetrated the thin
fabric of her robe and blew between her thighs, causing her own intimate scent
to rise up and fill the air around her. Emma gasped at the unexpected way her
body responded as the wind moved all about her, the way her clit began to
throb. Emma’s nipples beaded hard and her skin tingled all over her body.

Then Emma heard a gentle voice on the wind as the air swirled around the
sensitive flesh of her throat, blew through her hair. A deep male voice.

Senin.

As quickly as the wind had risen it was gone, leaving Emma standing there
shaken and lost just outside of her tent. Had she just imagined that? Was her
mind playing tricks on her in her grief?

Or had the wind really coveted her body like a lover?

Pulling the thin robe tightly about herself, Emma climbed into her tent and
willed her limbs to stop shaking.

 

 

About the Author

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer,
programmer, and internet junkie. When she’s not trying to perfect her own
personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing
volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and
chatting with readers and friends.

Isabella would love to hear from her readers!

Author Website

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

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Uprising Teaser

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Book One of the Fitzjohn Duology

 

Historical Fiction with Speculative and Romantic Elements

 

Date Published: 09-01-2026

Publisher: Literary Wanderlust

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England, 1381 AD: Blanche Fitzjohn is an outcast in her small coastal
village. Not only is she the illegitimate daughter of John of Gaunt, the man
responsible for her neighbors’ over-taxation, but she possesses strange
abilities: hearing sound from miles away and smelling people’s emotions.

She takes solace in her studies with the local wisewoman and in her friendship
with Geoff, a groom at the local manor. Until the day Henry of Lancaster,
Blanche’s half-brother, brings her news of an arranged marriage to Sir
Thomas Prescott, Constable of the Tower of London. Although she smells cruelty
on him, Blanche agrees to marry Thomas in the hopes that her influence may
help better the lives of Geoff and all England’s villeins.

But soon, the peasants’ discontent turns to revolt. Though her heart is
of the people, Blanche’s nobility makes her an enemy to the rebels. To
save herself and Henry from the executioner’s ax, Blanche must use every
power at her disposal, even those she once considered a curse.

 

Chapter Six Excerpt

 

 

Something shifts, like summer’s green leaves transforming to autumnal
gold. Speaking with Geoff about my marriage hurts like I’d never
expected, a deep ache. The moon thrums, and an owl, perched in a nearby tree,
shifts as she searches for prey. My temples throb.

“It seemed…” he begins again. “It seemed he
didn’t want to marry you, after you…” I glare and cross my
arms before lifting my face. He continues: “I thought perhaps you could
get out of it because…”

“Because of what?”

“Because, ye’re…”

“What, Geoff, what am I?”

His mouth opens like a fish above water, and he doesn’t bother to shut
it. In the tree, the owl flaps her wings and leaps into the air.

“Ye’re…” The tips of Geoff’s fingers flutter.
“Well, I don’t know what you are, Dandy. Ye’re
just…yerself. And I thought—”

“You thought he wouldn’t want me?”

His face falls. “He’s not like you, Dandy. That’s all.
He’s not a good man. I heard him talking, when it was just the
men…”

He drops his eyes and his cheekbones redden.

Neither of us seems to know what to say next. After a full minute of silence,
he lurches forward and grasps my shoulders, crushing me to his chest.
“Blanche, just consider.”

I gasp and have to steady myself. But within seconds, tears come to my eyes,
along with a calming release of tension. I grip his forearms, inhale his
familiar scent. He’s always smelled of horses, with a hint of bread
dough and sugar from the manor kitchens he’s constantly raiding.
There’s something different tonight. I sniff. It’s crisp, yet
soft. Evergreens in winter, covered with fresh snow.

He buries his nose in my hair. “You could refuse,” he says, voice
a gentle rumble against my face, “and stay with yer mother. She’d
be angry, yes, but she wouldn’t throw you out. They can’t drag you
to the church. For a marriage to be real, you must consent.”

Consent. The word ripples through me. It makes me see that I want more, from
Maman, from my father, but most of all from Geoff. I need something I
can’t identify, something I can’t express.

“If I marry Thomas…” My muffled voice breaks. “It
will make the duke happy. He’ll…” I tense, regretting my
words.

“He’ll what?”

I can’t answer, can’t tell him that by marrying Sir Thomas, I hope
to earn my father’s love. To replace…something.

The moon moves behind a cloud and the trees shift, branches releasing a shower
of rain. Geoff drops one hand to the small of my back and lifts the other to
my cheek. His palms are warm, and I slide my own to clench his upper arms.
When my fingertips brush hardened muscles, I almost snatch my hands back.
Before tonight, I still thought of Geoff as a child, the lanky villein who
could ride any horse, no matter how fierce. Now…my mouth goes dry, but
I can’t resist running my hands up the length of his arms, letting them
rest on his shoulders. The skin beneath his tunic is damp with sweat.

Corded muscles tense and stretch beneath my fingers, sending little jolts
through me. He stoops, chin brushing my temple.

I touch the notch of his throat with my fingertips. He freezes. Tiny curls of
dark hair peek above his collar, tickling my fingers. He lets his face linger
on mine, and I feel him inhale.

A pleasant warmth spreads through my belly, then down. Something’s
happening, something I don’t understand. I should run, should leave. But
I don’t. Another breeze drifts through the tree branches, and he pulls
me closer, pressing me to him.

I feel him, all of him, from feet to chin, in a way I never have. A tingling,
heavy warmth settles on me, and I feel Geoff’s own need pressing against
my belly.

It should make me uncomfortable, but I find myself pressing back, wanting
more. Wanting it all.

I’m not well-versed in what happens between a woman and a
man—that’s one area of my education Maman neglected—but
I’m not completely ignorant. I know Geoff and I stand on a cliff, gazing
into a deep ravine. One more step, and we’ll both be lost.

I’m still touching his throat, suspended in our odd dance beneath the
shuddering tree branches, when he bends further. I close my eyes and focus on
the sensation of his stubbly chin against my face. He exhales, and a shiver
runs down my spine.

“Dandy…” he murmurs.

The owl swoops to snatch a mouse from the forest floor in sharp talons. Her
screech is like a battle horn, ricocheting with painful deliberation in my
skull, joined by the mouse’s squeal. My eyelids snap open and I step out
of his embrace.

 

About the Author

 J.E. Rizzo

 J.E. Rizzo is a life-long history fanatic and writer of historical fiction,
and her work can be found in Vanity Fair, The Boston Globe, The Guardian, The
Tudor Times, Tudor Life Magazine, Scary Mommy, and Ultrarunning Magazine.
Rizzo won Manuscript Academy’s Agent Choice Award in 2024, and her
article Past and Precedence: Abortion Law in the Middle Ages and Its Use to
Overturn Roe v. Wade won History Inquiry’s Medieval History Writing
Challenge.

By day, Rizzo works in Human Resources—a field offering more than ample
opportunity to observe the follies and fancies of humankind. Before her career
in HR, Rizzo worked as an opera singer, a professional baker, and a dog
walker. These days, when not writing she can be found running ultramarathons
through the forests and mountains of New England, knitting, reading, sewing,
baking, or performing any number of (what some might call) old-lady hobbies.
She also keeps busing caring for her two children and forty-seven houseplants,
making her husband carry heavy things and cook her gourmet meals, and
rehabilitating her rescue dog and semi-feral ginger cat.

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A Deadly Inferno Consumes Blitz

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House of Croft, Book 6

 

Murder Mystery Romance

 

Date Published: July 28, 2026

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A chilling disappearance, a lethal enemy, and a family pushed to the
brink…

 

When the Duke of Wrengate’s sister vanishes without a trace, suspicion
swirls. Did she flee to escape a scandalous secret…or has she been
abducted? Whispers lead to a treacherous underworld, where rumors of an
illicit auction suggest a far more sinister fate: a woman trapped, drugged,
and enslaved. Determined to save her, Adrian Croft and his valet, Murry,
plunge into London’s darkest corners.

But Finn O’Leary, the Irishman bent on revenge, remains a threat that
presents a difficult choice for Adrian: save Wrengate’s sister or protect his
family. With the recent birth of his daughter, he and his wife, Samantha, have
more to lose than ever before. And as danger closes in, they must fight with
everything they have. Not only for justice, but for their very survival.

 

About the Author

Sophie Barnes

USA TODAY bestselling author Sophie Barnes writes historical romance
novels in which the characters break away from social expectations in their
quest for happiness and love. Having written for Avon, an imprint of Harper
Collins, her books have been published internationally in eight languages.
With a fondness for travel, Sophie has lived in six countries, on three
continents, and speaks English, Danish, French, Spanish, and Romanian with
varying degrees of fluency. Ever the romantic, she married the same man three
times—in three different countries and in three different dresses.

When she’s not busy dreaming up her next swoon worthy romance novel,
Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, practicing yoga, baking,
gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.

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The False Paradigms of Today and the Timeless Truth of Tomorrow Blitz

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Essays on Meaning

 

Philosophy/Spirituality

 

Date Published: 10-01-2025

Publisher: Sketpika Press

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Something’s missing in the world today, and maybe it’s been
gone for centuries. The problem: most of us don’t have authentic beliefs
or a clear path in life.

What do we believe? Whatever they told us to believe.

What do we do? Whatever other people are doing.


How many lies have we welcomed into our lives without having seriously
analyzed them?

It’s the reason many of us feel empty inside—there’s nothing
there but convenient mistruths, and at some level, we all know it. We then
orient our lives based on these false beliefs, wasting our precious limited
time among the living striving for goals that leave us ultimately unsatisfied.


The False Paradigms of Today and The Timeless Truth of Tomorrow
by John Bliss
takes a steak knife to these common delusions with 13 irreverent essays that
rip and tear at the foundations of our collective worldview. Little is held
sacred to Bliss.

 

The essays in Part 1: Your Understanding of Reality is More Fabricated
Than You Think
dispel our delusions one at a time, including:

 

          • our mistaken belief in progress,
          • our misplaced confidence in our own rational prowess,
          • our loss of personal identity from group identification,
          • our misplaced faith in science as a true representation of the world, and
          • our morality: what it is and where exactly it comes from.

After carving away these restrictive untruths, Part 2: An Exploration of Truth
Across Historical, Mystical, and Philosophical Dimensions
introduces a deeper
understanding of humanity based on history, mysticism, psychology and
philosophy. Some of the topics in Part 2 include:

          • how our religions became second-rate pathways to God,
          • our reliance on logic and how it warps our decision-making,
          • how idealism can lead to mass murder and tyranny,
          • the overriding importance of history, where we’ve been, where we are
            going and why,
          • our immaterial connection to all people living and dead—Jung’s
            collective unconscious, Emerson’s Over-Soul, and Varro’s Soul of
            the World, and finally
          • the bedrock assumption that we all got wrong. Switch this out, and everything
            changes.
The essays are filled with stories from history, including meetings of
the apostles Paul and Peter with the Emperor Nero and Simon Magus the
magician, the mystical transformation of Emmanuel Swedenborg, the nineteenth
century German intellectual revolution, the establishment of three French
religions worshipping not God but Reason and Humanity, the abdication of the
World Teacher, and the genocide of the Tibetan culture.
 

 

The book is ideal for seekers of deeper meaning, arm-chair philosophers
and historians, and those disillusioned with the emptiness of contemporary
thought.
Discover why your view of reality may be distorted—and how by
changing the one assumption on which your entire world-view is based,
everything shifts.

 

 

 

About the Author
John Bliss
John Bliss is a writer and thinker fixated on unraveling the mystery of
our lives. He is at heart a skeptic, as very few authorities have provided
answers that are believable. He distrusts groups of all kinds, as they are no
smarter than individuals, who don’t know half as much as they think they do.
He even distrusts himself, as no human can understand reality.

Some of his major accomplishments include being kicked out of the National
Honor Society and the CEO Round Table. He graduated with a bachelor’s in
History, and a masters degree in mechanical engineering. He founded and grew
an engineering company and sold it after 25 years. And of course, he completed
his book, The False Paradigms of Today and the Timeless Truth of Tomorrow,
after 13 years of research, writing, and rewriting.

To this day, he continues to ask the big questions: Who are we? What’s
truly important? How should we live our lives? On most days he thinks he has
them figured out.

When he is not writing, he cuts wood and digs ditches. Bliss remains at large
somewhere in the mountains of California.

 

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Empathic Equation Teaser

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LGBTQ+ Shifter Romance

Date Published: July 31, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

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Nootaikok is losing himself to his empathy. Can Amaruq call him back to love
and to bed?

There’s a terrible loneliness in being surrounded by a million minds,
none of which care a whit about you. With his empathic skills expanding
rapidly, Nootaikok is struggling to hold onto his sanity. Only joining with
Amaruq in bed play is sustaining him.

Both of them know bed play won’t save them forever. As the weight of
Nootaikok’s psychic disability pushes down on him, he and Amaruq start
fighting both each other and the world.

Can their love hold them together or will Nootaikok’s deception crush
them?

 

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EXCERPT

 

He couldn’t just hear the couple arguing in the hotel room next to the
one where he lay with his mate. For Nootaikok, their anger, petty as it might
seem to some, was real for them. He wasn’t quite sure what they had
disagreed on. He wasn’t a telepath. However, as the hour crept on from
nine to ten, their bickering increased in intensity even as their volume
dropped. He read violence in the woman half of the pair’s building rage.
Whoever said females were always the victims had their facts wrong.

He got silently out of bed, checking to make sure Amaruq had stayed asleep.
His lover, exhausted from the psychic deluge he’d experienced over the
last half dozen hours, probably wouldn’t wake if he was quiet.

Scooping up his tracker badge, which would show as police or hotel security or
whatever he needed at the moment to humans, he dressed in cast-off clothing
that he’d worn to SearchLight that day. Not bothering with shoes, he
padded silently from the room.

The ebb and flow of their argument was cresting when he pounded on the door.

He felt their startlement and felt the relief from the male half of the pair.

She was the one who opened the door, though. “What?” she snapped.

He took in the belt clenched in her fist and the stench of alcohol on her
breath. He held up his badge. “Security, ma’am,” he said.
“Report was of some disturbing noises coming from this room.”

She snarled soundlessly at him, furious as a caged werewolf. “Go
‘way.”

“I can’t, ma’am.” He darted a glance over her shoulder
as the man, who looked none too sober himself, drunk-walked a little closer to
them. “Sir, are you hurt?”

“What’d you think I’d do? Drug him?” the woman
demanded baldly.

Nootaikok felt the spike in her anxiety and met her gaze. “What did you
give him?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”

He wished he’d brought his cell phone. “I intend to.” He
marched into the room, shouldering her aside almost gently. Her drunken state
made her maybe more compliant than she would have normally been. Keeping an
eye on the two of them, he called down to the main desk and made his report.
That done, he ordered the two of them to stand out in the hallway until help
could arrive.

She swung at him with the buckle end of the belt.

He caught it, the sting of the metal making him hiss. He jerked the makeshift
weapon out of her hand and caught her, preventing her from falling when she
staggered into him rather than let go willingly.

By the time security had arrived, he’d gotten them both to lean against
the walls on either side of the corridor. The man was slumping there and the
woman was glaring at him, her face alternating between fear and fury.

After they had been escorted away, he snuck back to bed. It was going to be
difficult to sleep, even though the couple was gone. His empathy was fully
awake now, and he could sense probably half the occupants of the hotel.

Amaruq rolled over, his eyes slitting open. “Still awake?” he
mumbled.

“I’m all right,” Nootaikok lied.

His little white fib, meant only to send his lover back to sleep, backfired as
Amaruq frowned at him.

“Don’t you know better than to lie to a werewolf?”

“Sorry,” Nootaikok said, meaning it. “I just…”

“Do you need me to massage your shoulders again?”

“Maybe you could just rub my back for a minute or two?”
Amaruq’s touch usually helped him rest. It wasn’t magic but
Amaruq’s gentleness came through in everything he did. It was difficult
to dwell on all the emotions he couldn’t fix or completely understand
while his mate caressed him.

That being said, what he felt still tried to invade his mind. He shoved it
away over and over again until Amaruq’s fingers, digging deep, released
his tension and he slept.

* * *

When Amaruq woke fully, it was morning and the clock on the nightstand told
him it was a little after seven. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so
long, not with Mark and Luke in peril. Still, as the guilt rose up to choke
him, he forced himself to take a breath. He was managing it, he told himself,
and even if he wasn’t, there was nothing to be gained from drowning in
negativity.

Besides, he’d come back to the waking world with a sense of urgency and
a hunch that something was about to change. He didn’t know what that
meant exactly, but it definitely came from his precognitive sense, and he
refused to ignore that part of himself any longer.

He rolled over to face Nootaikok, startled to find his lover huddled under the
blankets. Narwhal shifters, at least from what Nootaikok had told him, were
warm blooded and tended to struggle with getting overheated. His mate looked
as though he was freezing. Or trying to hide.

Amaruq settled on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to reach out
to Mark and get a better sense of the dragon’s location. He thought,
I’ll ask him why it’s me he decided to reach out to once he and
Luke are safe. For now
… He dropped his shields.

Nootaikok seized his arm. “Don’t,” he mumbled.

Startled, Amaruq jumped and tried for something passing calmness. He knew he
didn’t succeed because when Nootaikok opened his eyes, they were bright
with anxiety. “What’s wrong?” Amaruq asked.

“Too many…” Nootaikok visibly stiffened and seemed to pull
himself together. “I don’t want you reaching out to
whoever’s sending you visions without medical assistance nearby.”

Amaruq nodded, his head moving on the pillow as he turned his face toward his
lover. Nootaikok was still bundled up. Frowning, Amaruq said,
“That’s a good point. I’ll wait until we’re at
SearchLight. Now, what’s really wrong?”

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

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