Tag Archives: Autumn Montague

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | September 9, 2026 · 5:00 am

Salva Me Teaser

LGBTQ+ Regency Vampire Romance

Date Published: September 11, 2026

England, 1816. A nosferatu, a rogue vampire, hunts unchecked through
Sussex. Jeremy Takeshi Colbourne is honor-bound by ancestral duty to find and
destroy such madmen. Foremost among the vampires of England, he must find a
way to ensure the safety of the English citizens and the vampires that live
among them.

Then Jeremy and his blood-host Morgan Holland discover a brutally savaged
girl. With this latest victim of the nosferatu, Jeremy realizes the time has
come to make Morgan aware of the Colbourne responsibilities. But the situation
could not have come at a worse time.

For years, Morgan has served as Jeremy’s blood-host. Though Morgan adheres
faithfully to his Contracted terms, he refuses to surrender to the sexual
seduction that completes each feeding. He yields neither his body nor his
heart, though Jeremy yearns for both.

As the nosferatu’s atrocities grow, Jeremy must ask everything of Morgan to
gain the strength needed to fight the ravening monster. Will Morgan relent and
give up body and heart to help Jeremy defeat their enemy, or will the battle
destroy them both?

EXCERPT

Jeremy cursed at the knock on the oaken door of his study. Morgan had
attempted to corner him several times today. Pure cowardice had driven Jeremy
to take refuge here, a place his loyal Host rarely intruded on, since it held
the Buddhist shrine housing his mother’s mortuary tablet. He glanced at
the portrait standing behind the black stone, wishing for a bit of Keiko
Yamakawa’s legendary strength.

Evading Morgan had taken a toll on Jeremy. The Contracted day for his feeding
had come and gone. Today marked two full weeks since Morgan had wrenched
himself from Jeremy’s grasp, nearly bleeding to death before Jeremy
could administer the requisite clotting agent. The sight of Morgan’s
injuries had seared itself into Jeremy’s mind, rendering him unwilling
to risk another such incident.

It almost made him wish to return to Japan, despite the difficulties involved.
Obtaining the necessary dispensation from the Tokugawa Shogunate had been hard
enough when he left. Lord Matsumae had done what he could, but it had taken
his mother’s personal attendance on Emperor Kōkaku and an appropriate
gift to Tokugawa Ikeharu to get it done. Going back would be far worse,
despite his home’s exemption from the Sakoku Edict. Even so, he was
tempted. If only to avoid what he now faced.

The knock came again, harder than before, followed immediately by the entrance
of Morgan Holland. “Excuse me, Lord Colbourne. While I am always loath
to disturb you in your sanctum, you cannot avoid me forever.”
Exasperation filled Morgan’s voice, underscored by heavy concern.

Jeremy risked a glance at his Host, unwilling to see but drawn nonetheless.
The wounds on Morgan’s neck had healed; his skin flushed a healthy hue.
Unlike usual feedings, the last one had left two ragged scars, visible
reminders of Jeremy’s lack of control. Even now, the remnants of
Morgan’s refusal echoed in his mind, invading his dreams.

“I am not convinced you are well enough to support a feeding,
Holland,” he hedged, though his Host showed no lingering signs of ill
effects. “Your wounds have barely healed.”

Morgan sighed. “I understand your reluctance after the debacle last
time, but you cannot risk your health or your sanity by some idiotic attempt
at endurance. I am prepared to meet my Contracted terms without qualms.”

“So you say. Nonetheless, your refusal made quite an impression.
I’d prefer not to endure that again so soon.”

Morgan’s cheeks heated with angry embarrassment. “Then break
Contract, my lord, and find someone more willing to accommodate all of your
needs. Or go back to Japan.”

The slap of the words felt like a further refusal. Jeremy straightened in his
chair, denying the spike of pain, determined to retain his rationality. Fear
was anathema to the Barons of Colbourne and to the Yamakawa family. Being
afraid to feed on his Contracted Host shamed both houses. He stood, feeling
the weakness of flesh from self-deprivation.

“After twelve years? I’d rather not, thank you. You’re all I
need. Or want.” Jeremy considered the irony of his irrational thoughts
mere moments before. “It is far harder to return than to leave,”
he added. “While my home in Matsumae is exempt from the Sakoku Edict,
only my status as a noble Chi no Kami allowed me to leave in the first place.
I have no wish to reverse the process any time soon.”

Morgan considered for a moment and then gave him the ghost of a smile.
“Then please stop delaying the inevitable. Despite what happened before,
I refuse to watch you kill yourself, however noble your ancestors may have
found the practice. It would render all my efforts worthless.”

“Such things are not reserved for my ancestors,” Jeremy growled.
“If I chose seppuku, who would be my second? You’d still have to
watch me die.”

“At least it would not be this slow death you’re attempting
now.”

Trust Morgan to know him well enough to hit so close to the truth of the
matter. Jeremy allowed silence to reign for a moment and then gave a grudging
chuckle. “No quarter, I see. You win, Holland. Give me two hours, and
I’ll meet you in the sanguis cubiculum.”

Two hours would give Jeremy sufficient time to contact William Carter. After
this long, the sexual urges would be difficult to suppress, but he could not
afford another mistake like the last time.

Morgan nodded to him. “Two hours, then, Lord Colbourne. I will be
ready.”

At the appointed time, Morgan waited as instructed, nervous despite his
earlier words to Colbourne. He touched the scars on his neck gingerly,
wondering. For all his bravado and calm facade, the thought of facing
Colbourne’s fangs disturbed him. That last bite had driven into his neck
without preparation, the savage sting a hint of what mankind had faced in the
early days of the nosferii. Yet beyond the pain, another sensation had lurked,
one he was reluctant to recall.

Perhaps it was only the remnants of the lust that rose in him every time
Colbourne fed, but the agony of the unprepared bite had seemed to turn into a
hazy pleasure at the end, before he’d passed out. Perhaps the
recollection was only some perverse blending of his memories.

Colbourne entered the sanguis cubiculum through the far door. Morgan caught a
brief glimpse of another person before the closing door blocked his view.

So he arranged for his companion to be available immediately after he is
finished with me.

In spite of the obvious benefits to the situation, the idea irritated Morgan
for some reason. Though he refused to offer up his body for postfeed sex,
he’d always steadfastly ignored Colbourne’s subsequent retreat to
his rooms for several hours. To have that person here, in the antechambers of
the sanguis cubiculum, the mere thought left a burning ache in Morgan’s
gut. This was his domain, his sacred trust, no one else’s.

“Are you ready, Holland?”

The deeply sensuous voice rippled over Morgan’s skin, bringing him to a
half-aroused state before the feeding started. He did his utmost to quash the
reaction, trying vainly to focus on something other than Colbourne’s
mouth.

A hand reached for his chin, gently turning his face away to expose the length
of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Morgan,” Colbourne whispered.

Morgan felt the faintest tremble in his master’s hand. He turned his
head the opposite direction, offering the undamaged side. “Here,
Master,” he urged, “feed from here.”

Colbourne’s tongue touched him gently, tracing a line across his skin
before stopping. “No, I think not,” he said, trailing his fingers
past Morgan’s throat. “I’d rather feed from a different
source today. Your neck is still healing.”

Morgan shivered as his master’s hand roamed down his front, then stroked
along the inside of his thigh.

About the Author

Autumn grew up loving history, mythology, and all things Japanese, not
necessarily in that order. This eclectic love affair has bled over into her
writing, and her stories are always well spiced with the taste of Japan,
strange mythological beasties, or the lords and ladies of the ton. Sometimes
all three, leading to dark desires and forbidden loves.

And after all, dangerous passions should lead to uninhibited love.

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Follow Autumn on BookBub

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

Pre-Order Today

The Duke’s Runaway Omega Teaser

LGBTQ+ Historical Romance, MPreg, Mystery & Suspense

Date Published: August 14, 2026

Phillip’s on the run, with not just one but two alphas on his trail.

Raised as an alpha, Phillip’s unexpected manifestation as an omega turns
his life upside down. His father demands a handfasting, insisting Phillip be
mated to whichever alpha wins the day with their pheromones. But when the
triumphant alpha turns out to be his school friend Everett, Phillip realizes
they are fated mates. However, as a diminished omega, his chances of bearing
Ev’s children are slim. Heartbroken, Phillip flees to London.

Everett never expected to be Duke of Harriford. His title brings a slew of
distasteful marriage and handfasting offers. The latest invitation for his old
friend Phillip shocks Ev into accepting. Phillip is everything he remembers
and more, and Ev soon finds himself responding to the potent scent of
Phillip’s pheromones. When his mate runs, Ev questions whether their
feelings are true, or merely the bond of alpha and omega. Despite his fears,
he’s determined to find Phillip and bring him home.

As Ev searches London, Phillip questions the wisdom of his choices. His plans
have begun to unravel rather spectacularly. To start with, he’s
pregnant, the one thing he thought he’d never be. Worse, there’s
an alpha hunting him — and it’s not Ev.

EXCERPT

Yorkshire, 1811

Lord Phillip Tyerman stared through the barred windows of his tower room at
the parade of men and women summoned by his father. All of them were
well-heeled and every one of them was looking to make a prestigious match with
the earl’s eldest son. The earl’s omega son, who was unable to
inherit either lands or title. The earl’s useless son, who wasn’t
even a full-fledged omega. Just a not-quite-beta whose first presentation had
caused no scandal, lured no lusty alphas, and could have been passed off as
little more than being in his second puberty. Not even the beta servants of
the household had realized anything was amiss. Only his youngest sister had
noticed. It had been Philomena, who was now heir to their father’s
estate at fifteen, thanks to her unexpected and early manifestation as a
dominant alpha. Lovely Phil, whose patrician nose had wrinkled as though a bad
odor had just filled the air.

“What a dreadful stink! Have the oranges gone over?”

Phillip could hear it even now, a full year hence, and it still rankled to the
point where he’d taken to wearing a strong sandalwood fragrance to avoid
smelling like rotted fruit. His father’s shocked look had likewise never
left his mind. The forbidding expression on the earl’s face had been bad
enough, but Phillip’s subsequent banishment to the tower room from the
heir-presumptive suite had cut even deeper. He had been nearly twenty-two at
the time, grown tall and strong. He was the spitting image of his father.
Everyone, even his omega mother, had assumed he’d manifest soon as an
alpha, and his delicate sister as an omega.

The tall and strong young man had become the omega, and the petite, delicate,
and winsome girl had become the alpha. God most certainly had a peculiar sense
of humor, at least insofar as the Tyerman family was concerned.

With a snort of irritation at the memory, Phillip turned his attention back to
the courtyard below, where the last equipage had rolled up to the front steps.
The livery on the carriage door proclaimed the occupant to be a member of the
Harrifords. Intrigued despite himself, Phillip opened the windowpanes and
peered through the bars, hoping for a glimpse of whomever it was that had come
from that prestigious family to gawk at the sale of the Tyermans’
awkward omega son. Of course, even if the occupant proved to be Ev Harriford,
Phillip fully intended to be well away from this house long before
arrangements could be made to pursue a match with any of these honored guests.

He sighed and turned away from the window, leaving it ajar to bring in fresh
air to a room that was stuffy even in the dead of winter. He had no fear of
his scent drawing unwelcome attention from all those alphas despite being near
his heat. His pheromones were practically indiscernible, as even in heat they
never carried much beyond his immediate person. The doors to the tower stair
were securely locked, and only his mother and his beta valet carried the keys.
He felt no qualms about allowing the room to air out while he dressed for this
ridiculous charade.

Well, said charade would come to an abrupt and hopefully embarrassing end for
his father. Phillip had a small bag packed with the most minimal necessities
safely stowed in the bottom of the wardrobe. He’d return to his rooms to
“refresh himself” when the alphas retired for brandy and banter,
and he’d make his escape then, while his father negotiated with them for
Phillip’s eventual marriage to the highest bidder.

The tiniest tremor ran along his spine. It seemed his estrus had chosen to
come in a timely manner. At least he would not have to spend several days in
isolation waiting for it to arrive so the festivities could begin in earnest.
The mere thought of said festivities sent another shiver through him, this one
of disgust.

A brisk tap sounded on the door, followed by the sound of keys in the lock and
his mother’s quiet entrance. She gave him a mildly disapproving glance
upon seeing him still in his ordinary daywear. “You should always lock
the inner door, Phillip,” she chided him. “You ought to be in your
tails by now. You have a scant half hour before dinner. Your father wishes you
to meet the guests tonight prior to the formal ceremony on Saturday.”

“Ceremony!” Phillip winced as the word came out in shocked tones.
“What ceremony?! I thought this was the usual idiotic dinner party
series so he can twist the arms of his alpha friends and convince one of them
to marry me to their offspring –”

“No, dear,” his mother interrupted with false serenity. She smiled
at him, the attempt obviously meant to soothe, yet the smile did not reach her
eyes. “The earl has decided to make this a formal handfasting ceremony,
to ensure the chosen candidate does not hand you the mitten after. So only the
most acceptable and honorable suitors were invited. If you don’t find
anyone particularly to your liking, the earl will decide who wins the right to
bond with you.”

The earl will decide. His mother’s use of his father’s title told
Phillip that Lady Winifred Tyerman did not support this extraordinary
decision. It also told Phillip that his father had chosen not to leave the
critical matter of his awkward son to chance or romantic feelings. His
thrice-damned sire would pick the person who would control Phillip for the
rest of his life. Then the true significance of his mother’s words
penetrated the fog engendered by the word “ceremony.”

“A handfasting? What on earth are you on about?” Phillip cursed
himself for the shake in his voice.

Handfasting was an ancient custom, very much out of use, as it used a bonding
bite to ensure the omega couldn’t flee with another alpha or beta. But
to do so in this day? The handfasting ceremony included a public bite, binding
the omega to the alpha forever, socially and physically, even if the alpha
chose to marry someone else. While the ceremony wasn’t precisely
outlawed, it was frowned upon as outré and generally reserved only for
omegas of wealthy families perilously close to the end of their breeding
years.