As you can tell from the ridiculously ginormous cover photo, I’m a little bit happy and a teeny tiny bit excited. Just because. 😉
It’s on sale until May 15th.
Menage, Erotic Romance, MMF, paranormal
Word Count: 62,000
Heat Level: SEXTREME
Zoe found her life in art, trying to exist on her own terms. Sean found it in work, knowing that money couldn’t provide what he truly desired. Charlie found his in study, never expecting more. With dreams their only guide, how will they find each other?
Zoe, Sean, and Charlie know they must bond to survive, but kidnappers are out for their blood. Sean knows he needs his bondmates, but even with his money and influence, he finds no trace. Zoe knows who Sean is, but fears how her life will change if she surrenders to a biological compulsion. Charlie risks everything to meet his lovers and almost loses his life.
How will they come together when Charlie is captured and Chicago is bombed? When they confront the couple behind it all, will they be able to control their power? Or will the storm they call destroy them?
As if she could tell he was staring, she looked up, her gamine face confused. When she caught sight of him, she frowned. Clearly she knew who he was. Sean strode through the crowd, enjoying the sun-baked warmth of the dusty ground on his toes. Bare feet again? He didn’t let it bother him this time, not even grimacing at the sensation. This wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed of this faire. It wasn’t even the second time. When the dreams first started, he was quite disconcerted by the lack of shoes. After the third or fourth time, he had resigned himself to the fact that he was always barefoot. At least this time he was able to move closer to the woman without waking up. He needed to get closer still.
It was only when he found himself edging into the shade of her open tent that he allowed himself a small glimmer of triumph. He’d never yet made it this far. Always before, in every other one of these dreams, she’d fled before he could get to her. He stepped in closer. She was thin. Strong. Older than him, maybe forty years old but still beautiful. He liked the way she carried herself, as though the years had burned away any sense of foolishness. This was not a woman who would be easy to know. She would be a challenge. He stepped closer. For the first time in one of these dreams, she held her ground, gripping the edges of the rough wood table fiercely enough to make the tips of her fingers go white.
“Who are you?”
Sean watched her bite her lip as he pondered how to answer the question. He was sorely tempted to say “I am your destiny,” but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t appreciate the joke. “My name is Sean. Who are you?”
“Why are you stalking me?” The woman ignored his question, frowning at him, and Sean felt a pang of lust surge through him. The stern expression on her face didn’t detract at all from her luminous beauty. From the pale green of her eyes to the sharp blue streaks she’d had painted into her short, dark hair to her wiry build, Sean knew this woman was more than a match for him. His body approved, even if his mind hadn’t yet caught up to that realization. He felt his jeans tighten, and her eyes dropped to his groin then fled like startled birds back up to his face. Sean smiled.
“Why ever would you think I’m stalking you? This is just a dream,” he said quietly, hoping to dispel her fear.
She pressed her lips together, and Sean sensed her apprehension boil over. He didn’t need to touch her to know that her body would be taut with worry. He stepped closer, then stopped, looking beyond her thin shoulders. There was another person here, a man, dark as shadow in the depths of her tent. “Who is that?”
She frowned harder, searching his face, for what, he did not know.When she turned abruptly, Sean moved in right next to her. The noise of the crowd faded the closer he got. She gasped, and the shape behind her materialized into a young man with dusky skin and long, straight dark hair. Sean tried to make out his features but couldn’t. Strangely, he felt a kinship with the stranger, a deep pull on his senses that went beyond the surface. He wanted to touch this man, see if he felt real. The ground rumbled again but none of them paid any attention. Outside the tent the wind picked up, and Sean tasted the scent of water in the air.
“Where am I?” the man asked, his voice light and steady. He looked around. “This is a desert. That makes no sense.” He moved closer, and suddenly Sean could see the man’s face. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. He had dark eyes and possibly a bit of Native American blood in him, a sharp contrast to Sean’s pale skin and deep blue eyes. The woman clenched her hands together then rubbed at her arms as though she had an itch she couldn’t get to. Sean frowned. He’d seen that action before.
“I have no idea what the hell is going on,” the woman gritted out. The young man looked at her, his face so open and compassionate that Sean felt another pang of lust course through him, this time for the man. What the hell?
“My name is Charlie. Charlie Aponivi. I know I’m dreaming. I went out to the forest to see if I could complete a dream journey, like my ancestors, but I didn’t expect to end up in the desert. That’s just weird.” The man ran his hands through his hair. Sean watched the woman watch Charlie do this and recognized her sudden attraction in the way her body swayed towards the young man. Sean was fairly perplexed himself. He wanted to take his hands and run them through that dark waterfall of hair, too. He’d never before felt an attraction to a member of the same sex, but the throbbing in his jeans certainly convinced him of it now.
“I’m Sean,” he said, reaching out a hand unthinkingly. The other man took it reflexively. The moment they touched, Sean blinked at the torrent of emotion he could feel coming from Charlie. The ground rumbled, then lurched suddenly. The woman gasped and stumbled against them. Suddenly, she was touching both of them, trying to keep from falling. The bare skin of her palms scorched theirs.
“Zoe,” Sean breathed, trying to keep his feet while a torrent of emotion, much of it conflicting, poured into him from her. “Your name is Zoe Brooke.”