Dark Reign-- Atonement by Mychael Black

Dark Reign: Atonement
by Mychael Black

Cover art: Reneé George
BIN: 05542-01775
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves, Gay
Series: Dark Reign (#3)
Length: Novella
Page Count: 38

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1775

Blurb:
Marcus Deleon has spent most of his life saving his fellow weres from the hands of his ex-lover, the vampire Dalton Gray. Now he's facing an all-out war after one of his Enforcers kills several of Gray's guards. The allies he has to rely on can be counted on one hand until unexpected help arrives, bearing the fragile body of an injured were child and inside knowledge into Gray's operations.

Excerpt:
Dark Reign: Atonement
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Mychael Black

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


Jordan winced with the impact, but he didn't struggle against the werewolf's grip around his throat. The man tightened the hold, claws threatening to pierce Jordan's skin.
From one set of captors into the hands of another. "Deleon. I need to speak to Deleon!" Jordan had expected a cold reception, but he hadn't realized just how strong the wolves were.
"Who are you?"
Despite the hand at his neck, Jordan glanced over to his right. A tall, muscular figure stepped out of the shadows. His long coat obscured his body. When the hood fell back, Jordan could only stare. He'd seen many werewolves in his lifetime, but none quite matched the allure of the man before him.
Jet black hair fell over broad shoulders, and the sharp features of the man's face held no flaws whatsoever. Where Jordan was slim and lithe, this man was nothing but pure muscle. Jesus...
"He asked you a question," the brute with the iron fist growled, snapping Jordan's attention back to the matter at hand. "Answer or..."
"Release him, Vaughn."
"Of course." The brute -- Vaughn, apparently -- stepped back, letting Jordan fall to his knees on the filthy alley pavement.
"You are not one of us." The man in the coat crouched down before Jordan. "You are one of them."
"Jordan Silva." Jordan coughed. He glared at Vaughn, then looked back to the man before him. "I was told to find Deleon."
"Why?"
Jordan gestured to the rusted door a few feet farther down the alley. Vaughn headed for the door and jerked it open. Jordan looked back at the man in front of him. "I was told Deleon could help her."
"Marcus!"
The man -- Marcus -- stood and joined Vaughn. A moment later, they emerged from the doorway, the young girl in Vaughn's arms. Jordan prayed the man was gentle with her. Marcus returned to Jordan, surprising Jordan by offering him a hand up.
"Come with us."
"What? Marcus, he's a vampire!" Vaughn snapped, shooting Jordan a scowl that would've curdled a human's blood.
"Take her home, Vaughn. Tia will look after her."
Vaughn snorted but obeyed without further question. Marcus sighed.
"You must forgive him. He has a strong dislike for your kind."
"After what I've seen, I would too," Jordan said.
Marcus lifted one dark eyebrow. "Why did you leave Gray? Why risk your life for one of ours?"
Jordan stared at a point over Marcus' shoulder. "Working for Gray wasn't exactly by choice. I was ordered to kill her, but I couldn't. I need to speak to Deleon."
"Come. I'm sure he will very much like to hear what you have to say."
Jordan followed Marcus a short distance to a sprawling house surrounded by a tall security fence. Marcus keyed in a series of numbers on the keypad, and the gate unlocked. Jordan didn't see any sign of Vaughn or the girl, and he hoped to the gods she was okay now.
"The others will not take well to a vampire being in our midst," Marcus warned as he led the way up a long driveway. "So long as you stay with me, you will be safe, however."
The front door looming before them opened and Jordan stepped in behind Marcus. The house felt deathly still. Jordan knew the wolves watched him from shadows. Marcus continued down a hall and stopped before another door. He opened it and waved Jordan inside.
"I really need to see Deleon."
Marcus sat behind a dark wood desk, feet propped on the edge, chair tipped back. "So speak."
Jordan sat down, mouth dropping open. "You..." Marcus nodded. "I know this is all suspicious, but I'm here to help."
"Why would a vampire -- one of Dalton's vampires -- help us?" Marcus stood, his chair hitting the floor with a loud bang. Hands braced on the desk, he leaned over and glared at Jordan. "Your kind has done nothing but treat us as slaves. Gray has stolen our people, killed countless others. What the fuck do you want?"
"I know what he's doing," Jordan answered. "And I know where."
Marcus' dark blue eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"
"Redemption."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1775

State of Affairs by Dany Sirene

State of Affairs
by Dany Sirene

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-756-7
Genre(s): Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 63

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1756

Blurb:
Jade Harron has been tapped for a very delicate mission. Twin kingdoms, at war for ages, only have one chance at alliance: union by marriage. But someone doesn't want the warring kingdoms united. No way the king's willing to put his daughter's neck on the line! But he's got the perfect spy for the role -- half-Elf and cross-dressing courtesan Jade Harron, of course.
Somehow Jade's not convinced Prince Keandre will be all that pleased when he discovers their deception. Then again, what will they do if the prince prefers to keep his Elven "Bride"? And then there's Jade's former lover, Gareth, Captain of Prince Keandre's guard and keeper of his secrets... and secret desires. Gareth knows far too much about Jade's past. Will he expose Jade for who he is? Or coerce him back to his bed?
Jade has a feeling no matter how this ill-conceived affair turns out, his life will never be the same. Danger, deception, espionage and unbridled lust -- all politics as usual in this decadent court.

Excerpt:
State of Affairs
Dany Sirene
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Dany Sirene

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


Holding up the flouncy skirts with the easy grace of a dancer, I pranced into the assembly hall, right past the guards whose eyes looked like they were about to pop right out of their sockets. I stopped in the entranceway and curtsied with a flourish to the king and queen of Aleyne. The king stared at me, trying really hard not to show his astonishment.
"Good evening, Your Majesties," I said in my most melodious girly voice -- my trademark and the best part of my act. "You wished to see me?"
The king shook his head. The queen looked utterly scandalized and hid her face behind her fan.
"Seriously, Master Harron. Was this really necessary? It's... disconcerting, to say the least," the king said with a disapproving look.
I assumed an expression of insulted innocence. "I simply didn't wish to waste my time or yours."
The king heaved a sigh. "All right. The illusion is believable enough, I'll give you that. But could you foil an assassination attempt in this..." He gestured at the puffy under-layers of lace peeking out from beneath the sky-blue silk skirt.
"Crinoline," I finished helpfully. "I assure you, my combat skills are in no way diminished by --"
At the king's signal, the guard who stood just behind me pulled out a knife and lunged at me. I reached up and gripped the guard's wrist. The blade stopped just inches away from my elaborate coiffure. Stifling a yawn, I gave his arm a little twist. The guard gasped in pain and let go of the blade, which clattered to the floor. I let go of him instantly, and the man rubbed his wrist, muttering a few extremely unflattering words.
I smiled coquettishly at their majesties and patted my hair. "Any other questions?"
The queen's mouth was a little painted "O" of shock on her pale face. The king cleared his throat, trying to collect himself. "Yes. You do understand that this is a highly sensitive political matter."
"Of course."
"And therefore discretion is absolutely crucial."
I tried not to let my disappointment show. "Yes, my lord. Of course."
"Now, the story is, Princess Amalia is my darling Lisele's little sister. No one has seen her up to this point because she was raised in a convent." He paused and glared at me. "A convent, Master Harron. Integrate this knowledge into your act if you can."
I nodded, trying not to crack up. "That's all very well. I also know that the people of Levant are known for their pious chastity, but I still think Prince Keandre will notice that something is not quite right when the wedding night comes around."
"Harron, this is serious," the king fumed. "And it won't come to that. Once you get there, your job is to figure out who is sending the threats to assassinate my Lisele, and to... deal with them. Then I will revoke my decision and send Princess Lisele in your place."
"Yes, sir, but are you sure it won't cause political, ah, frictions?"
The king's expression made me want to swallow my tongue. "You let me worry about that, Master Harron. You just do what I assigned you to do, nothing more and nothing less, without making an idiot of yourself and this whole court by extension. Think you can handle that?"
I broke out in a cold sweat under the tightly laced corset of the gown, swallowed the lump in my throat, and nodded.
"That's all. You will be leaving first thing tomorrow."
And thus, my fate was sealed.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1756

Shibari Auction House 1: Jack by Sean Michael

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Razor's Edge: Puck You Two by Elizabeth Jewell

Razor's Edge: Puck You, Two
by Elizabeth Jewell

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-916-5
Genre(s): Razor's Edge Press, Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary)
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Series: Puck You
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 19

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1751

Blurb
When Philippe Bessette runs into Jaroslav Láska in a bar, he knows he should walk away. But Láska knows what Bessette wants, and this time he's going to make Bessette beg for it.


http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1751

Best Man by Willa Okati

Best Man
by Willa Okati

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-751-2
Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary)
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 49

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1750

Blurb
Alexander's a man with an uncommonly happy disposition. His luck always holds true, and he takes chances with cheerful abandon. When he sees a New Year's Eve wedding running amok and a hot best man in need of help before Bridezilla goes boom, it's second nature for him to step in to lend a hand with the last-minute disasters that plague every wedding. The way Alexander sees it, he's earning good karma, winning over the adorable best man -- and he might just already be falling in love.
Excerpt
Best Man
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Willa Okati

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


"What's life without dreams? Without hope? Call me a cock-eyed optimist, but I believe that no opportunity isn't worth taking."
"Because they always work out for you."
"I'll share my luck, if you want." Alexander cupped his hand and blew a puff of winter smoke at Shawn. "There. You're set. And, Mother? No bursting anyone's bubbles."
"It's a nice thought, Alexander, but I can't even keep a plant alive. I killed a cactus by forgetting to water it. How does someone even begin to kill a cactus?" Shawn muttered.
"That does take skill," Josephine admitted. She patted Shawn's back with one small, gloved hand. "Perennial optimism is neither better nor worse than persistent pessimism. The right one for both of you is right around the bend. Six marriages, remember? I got it wrong so many times that karma decrees you'll both get it right. Now, do hurry, would you? I will not be denied a ninety-proof holiday espresso martini."
"Hold on a minute." The noise began to clarify itself as they drew closer to the Imperial Center. Alexander stopped them. "Do you hear that?"
"I can hardly help it, though I was happy to distract myself with my gentleman escorts' conversation, but what is that commotion?" Josephine shaded her eyes to peek. "Good Lord, is that a wedding?"
Alexander tilted his head to get a better look and a listen. "I think so."
"In this weather?" Shawn nudged at a fallen chunk of icy snow. "Are they out of their minds?"
"Darling, a bride's likely involved. Insanity is a given."
Where Shawn looked dubious, Alexander's intrigue only grew. He made sure Shawn held Josephine safe and secure and took half a dozen strides forward, drinking in the details. Bunting everywhere, a caterer's van well and truly stuck in the snow, and loud, loud, loud screeching emanating from within the Imperial Center.
"Who even holds a wedding on a holiday?"
"Someone who doesn't think ahead?" Shawn suggested.
Alexander laughed. He'd seen this movie. "Bridezilla."
Josephine pointed to a harried-looking string quartet trudging through a half-broken path through the snow, identifiable only by their attempts to lug instrument cases and speakers.
Alexander would have offered to help, but there was something about the grim white lines on the faces of the quartet that told him that'd be rushing in where angels feared to tread.
"Assuredly a Bridezilla," Josephine agreed. "And one without a morsel of common sense. Do you know how long it takes to plan a wedding of this extravagance? As you've kindly pointed out, I've been there and done that, and trust me. It takes well over a year. Even if we were still enjoying a white-out storm, they'd be digging out a path for an aisle the bride could walk up."
The shrieking from within reached a pitch almost in the range that only dogs could hear. Alexander winced.
Josephine laughed. "Never actually been in the presence of a Bridezilla before, have you?"
"If that's one of them, I think I'm glad I'm gay," Shawn said.
Alexander poked him. "Civil unions, brother, and the laws are changing. One day you'll find yourself having a panic attack over lobster canapes going bad."
"Probably. I think the one screaming just now was the groom."
Josephine's shoulders shook with amusement. "Well. When all's said and done, weddings do have one thing going for them."
"Such as?"
"Slutty groomsmen?" Alexander asked, perking up.
"If a guy's lucky," Shawn agreed. "Wait, look who I'm talking to. But are they worth it?"
"I have an uncommonly happy disposition." Alexander shot his sleeves straight and stood to his fullest height, shoulders squared at their broadest. "And sure, mostly."
"Not that we'll be finding out today. Lunch awaits," Josephine said firmly.
"Of course. I --"
Alexander ceased speaking or moving. Breathing might or might not become optional.
He became vaguely aware of Josephine tapping her foot. "Darling, follow-through is a virtue." She cleared her throat. "Alexander?"
Shawn snapped his fingers by Alexander's ear.
He heard both of them. He just wasn't paying attention. Because Alexander had seen him.
He being a man of slim build, slender at the hips and satisfyingly just broad enough at the shoulders to make his masculinity clear; a good and necessary thing for a man as beautiful as he with his red lips, formerly styled and now epically mussed black waves of hair, and blue eyes now raised to the heavens in a silent why me?
Alexander dropped his arm. "Then again, I might stick around. For a few. Take a rain check on the lunch?"
"You're going to crash the wedding?"
"Yes and no," Alexander said. The beautiful man had boxes upon boxes labeled WEDDING yet to unpack. "Wait and see."
Shawn shook his head but let him go. "You're not quite right. You know that, don't you?"
* * *
If a man acted as if he belonged in any given place, people usually didn't ask questions. Alexander took the steps at an easygoing pace and casually strolled to the lovely man's side. "Need a hand?"
"I could use three, to be honest." Pretty eased a double stack of linen napery on a bare table and stretched his arms, pulling each at the wrists to release the cramped muscles. Alexander could massage those for him, but... later. "Do I know you?"
Beauty and brains. "Not in the least," Alexander replied, twinkling at him. "I was passing by and thought I'd see if Good Samaritans were still in style."
Pretty rubbed his arms as he gave Alexander a once-over of bemusement and perhaps a bit of appreciation. "At least you're honest. If you promise not to take off with a box of table favors or hit on one of the bridesmaids, then be my guest. I'm serious about the bridesmaids. I love my sister -- the bride -- but if one more thing sends her off the deep end --"
Alexander laughed. "Don't worry. About the bride or the bridesmaids." He winked. "They aren't what caught my eye."
"Is that a fact?" Pretty's cheeks turning faintly pink, and the appearance of a small smile gave him away. "That makes two of us."
"You're honest, too. And beautiful."
The pink darkened to crimson. "And you're a flatterer." That would have been worrisome if he hadn't grinned at him and pushed one-half of the napery Alexander's way. "If you're sure you want to get involved in the madness... then you can be my guest."
"You can trust me," Alexander said, ripe with confidence. "Watch." He took the top cloth off the stack and gave it a good snap, meant to send a long cloth billowing out.
It would have been more impressive if said cloth hadn't turned out to be a dinner napkin.
Pretty burst into laughter. "I have to keep you now. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I turned you out to wreak havoc on general society." His cheeks remained pink and his blue eyes lambent. He offered his hand. "Noah McMasters. Call me Noah."
Alexander took Noah's hand. A very nice hand it was, too, slim and smooth but firm. "Alexander."
A hint of dimples enriched Noah's smile. "Just Alexander?"
"I have a surname, but I'll make you work for that one." Alexander winked at Noah -- the name fit him as well as a tailored glove, small and lovely -- and draped the napkin over his arm. He clicked his heels together and bowed from the waist. "Right now, I await your command. Tell me what you want from me and I'm yours."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1750

He Needs to Feed by Saloni Quinby

He Needs to Feed
by Saloni Quinby

Cover art: Zuri
ISBN: 978-1-60521-736-9
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Magic, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novel
Page Count: 113

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1738

Blurb:
Since moving into his new townhouse, Caleb has had fantasies about his gorgeous neighbor, Devin. When the two start seeing each other, Caleb can scarcely believe his good luck. He soon falls head over heels in love with the sweet, sexy ballet dancer. It seems nothing can drive them apart.
Then one night Caleb kills a serial rapist in self defense and afterward is plagued by a voice in his head that stirs violent sexual cravings. Each night the cravings become almost unbearable and Caleb fears he is losing his mind. His attraction to Devin and the desires of the sex demon that has possessed him are a dangerous combination.
To keep from attacking the man he loves, Caleb breaks off their relationship and buys a security cage with a time release lock. He spends each night inside the cage, consumed by a need to feed his sexual hunger. No one can understand his obsession, or so he thinks.
Despite his seemingly happy life and gentle disposition, Devin fully understands obsession. After battling his own demons for years, he knows they can be beaten and he refuses to give up his lover without a fight.
Excerpt:

He Needs to Feed Saloni Quinby All rights reserved. Copyright ©2011 Saloni Quinby This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers. It wasn't coincidence that Caleb sat playing with his black pug on the front steps of his townhouse when Devin biked toward their building. Devin generally returned home from his dance studio between seven and ten every night. They'd met three weeks ago when Caleb had moved in. Devin owned the center unit in their row of three, so he and Caleb shared a wall, but since setting eyes on the adorable dancer, Caleb had wanted to share much more than that. Unfortunately Devin was reserved. Not unfriendly, just private. If Caleb wanted to pursue his interest, he knew it would take time. The past few weeks he'd been too busy concentrating on moving in and renovating while running his business, but he'd also been observing Devin's habits. Sometimes when Caleb went for his morning run, Devin would be biking to work at the same time. The sight of his sinewy body with his long legs clad in black spandex bicycle pants was enough to send Caleb's libido into overdrive. Devin had been the subject of more than a few sexual fantasies and it was about time he let the guy know exactly how interested he was. Caleb's heartbeat quickened as Devin coasted down the road. Though after dark, between the moonlight and streets lights Caleb could see the object of his interest clearly. Tonight Devin wore jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt a shade lighter than his dark brown eyes. A multicolored bandana covered his dark hair, except for the wavy ends that clung damply to the back of his neck despite the chilly autumn breeze. Devin slowed as he neared the driveway and Caleb rose from the steps. "Hey," Caleb called and waved. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he approached Devin, who had dismounted from the bike. His dog, Pickles, trotted alongside him, barking at Devin. "Hi," Devin said and bent to rub his fingers over Pickles' head. "Caleb, right? How do you like your place so far?" "It's great." "You've been doing a lot of work in there. I can hear it." "Oh, sorry. If I'm bothering you just bang on the wall." "It's no bother. I wasn't complaining or anything." "I can understand if you were. When I'm working I can get a little noisy and I know I've gone on late a few nights. Haven't had much time during the day with work --" "What do you do?" "I own a furniture store. I'm a woodworker." A smile tugged at Devin's full lips. All Caleb could think about was kissing him. He hoped he didn't look quite as hungry as he felt. Interested was good, but desperate was pathetic. "Really? You do custom work?" "I just replaced the cabinets in my place. If you want to take a look sometime..." "Yeah. That would be great." "How about tonight? I was about to eat dinner. I made pizza." Caleb jerked his thumb toward his unit. "Would you like to join me?" Devin's smile faded and he appeared slightly uncomfortable. Great. He'd looked too eager after all. Caleb just wasn't good at playing games. He liked things on the table. Being discreet wasn't his strong point. "Pizza. I... uh... probably shouldn't." "Sorry. It wasn't a come-on or anything." "No." Devin's large, dark eyes locked with Caleb's and widened a bit. "I didn't mean that. Actually, yeah, I'd like to have dinner with you. Just give me a few minutes to shower and change. I had rehearsal right before I left the studio and didn't take time to hit the shower, then I biked home so I'm pretty gross." "Definitely pretty, but not gross." Caleb smiled, then bit his tongue. Too late. Thank goodness Devin returned his smile. The gleam in his eyes proved the compliment wasn't unwelcome. "I suppose that wasn't a come-on either?" Devin said. "We'll see." Caleb's gaze melted over Devin, who moistened his lips with the tip of his enticing pink tongue. "I'll be over in a few," Devin said, his voice husky and just above a whisper. He walked his bike toward his porch. Before he stepped inside, he glanced over his shoulder at Caleb who stood, his arms folded across his chest, hopefully looking far more nonchalant than he felt. No sooner had Devin disappeared inside than Caleb swept Pickles up and said, "We've got a date, bud." * * * Devin leaned his bike against the stairs leading to the second floor of his townhouse. He paused for a moment, closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Releasing it slowly, he tried to still his pounding heart. To his surprise, his hands were shaking. From the moment handsome Caleb had moved in next door, he'd fantasized about the man. Not that Devin had a shortage of admirers, but it had been a long time since he'd thought about having a boyfriend. In his younger days he'd had some short-term relationships mostly because he was so obsessed with dance that he had time for little else. Then he'd dealt with the illness that had threatened to end his career, not to mention his life. For a long time he'd been alone, in self-imposed banishment from the world. Caleb didn't know anything about him or his past. Maybe that was a good thing. It was strange how after coming so far Devin still had to remind himself not to fall into old habits. Eating pizza with a friend wasn't a crime. For too many years he'd tried to be perfect. The perfect dancer, a perfect specimen of health and fitness. All the while he'd bashed himself for his imperfections, which seemed to overshadow everything else in his life. "Just don't think about it," he said. "Go over there tonight and have fun." Caleb seemed nice. He was cute. Correction. He was gorgeous. Absolutely adorable. The man's big blue eyes swallowed Devin whole. When Caleb looked at him he felt like the only man on Earth. He was a couple of inches shorter than Devin's five feet eleven, but more powerfully built with broad shoulders, well-developed arms and sturdy legs. He had big hands too. On the first day they'd met, they'd shaken hands and Devin still thought about the roughness of Caleb's palms. Calluses were sexy. Butch. Smiling, Devin hurried up the stairs, taking two at a time. In the shower, he continued thinking about Caleb's hands, imagining how good they'd feel on his body. Curling his fist around his cock, he stroked it, pretending it was Caleb touching him. He released his cock abruptly. What if he got a chance for the real thing tonight? Maybe he should allow the buildup. But even if things got that far, could he do it? No one had seen him naked since... As a dancer he exposed his body all the time. Yet fucking was different. Devin turned off the water and reached for a towel. He was getting way ahead of himself. No one had said anything about fucking. All Caleb had offered was pizza. After drying off, Devin dabbed on cologne and dressed in black pants and a clingy gray sweater. He left on his diamond earrings, blow-dried his hair and combed it back. Glancing at himself in the mirror he ran his hand over the dark waves. He really needed a trim. Though he never wore his hair ultra-short, it was starting to touch his shoulders and that annoyed him, especially when he was dancing. He touched his chin and his brow furrowed. Maybe he should shave. What if Caleb didn't like five o'clock shadow? No, he probably wouldn't mind considering every time Devin had seen him, he'd looked scruffy. He didn't exactly have a full beard, but just about. Devin thought a few days of growth looked rather sexy, especially on sable-haired guys like Caleb. A little shiver of desire tore through Devin when he thought about the gorgeous contrast between Caleb's dark hair and blue eyes. The sooner he left, the sooner those sexy eyes would be staring at him, making him feel eighteen again. That's what Caleb did to him. Made him feel young and horny, like anything and everything could happen. All he had to do was relax and let things flow. Tonight he would do just that. No more nerves. No games or pretense. Just be himself and everything would be fine...

Customer Service: Email: service@changelingpress.com Phone: (304) 885-4993 Monday-Friday Noon-5PM EST

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1738

The Air I Breathe by Megan Slayer

The Air I Breathe
by Megan Slayer

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-728-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, BDSM
Theme(s): Magic, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 56

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1726

Blurb:

When Taygan walked, Luc thought he'd never see his best friend again. That's fine. Luc's busy with his band, Glow, and isn't really interested in having a love life. There's just one small glitch. He's lonely without Tay, and his pride can't take losing him again. It's up to Luc to decide, but can he live with his decision?
Taygan thought he could handle his element and have a permanent relationship with Luc -- until the need to follow the wind element took over. But being away from Luc is killing Tay's element. To make things worse, Luc's not waiting around for Tay any longer. What's a guy to do when his lover is the very air he breathes?
Publisher's Note: Tay and Luc also appear in Megan Slayer's short story Wrapped Around.

Excerpt:

The Air I Breathe
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Megan Slayer

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


In your arms I'm home.
Luc strummed his guitar and stared at the notes on the page. The lines and squiggles blurred together. Not from lack of sleep. His heart ached. The man he yearned for, the man in his soul, had walked out -- again.
He closed his eyes. Being without Taygan sucked. Like having his arm ripped off. The words slowly came back into focus. Home. With Taygan there was no such thing as home. He roamed from place to place, seeking the next big thrill. Their bliss-filled Christmas had just been a blip on the screen, a moment to find nirvana only to have it ripped apart again.
Luc opened his eyes. He should be angry, but Tay's parting words played in his mind. "I've got a line on how we can be together forever. Just give me time. I love you."
Sure. Luc had all the damn time in the world, and Tay always had a plan. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and twirled the pencil in his other hand. If he and Taygan shared nothing else, they had a tight mutual trust. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but trust wasn't going to get him through the long, lonely nights.
Luc stared at the words he'd penned. The love song would be great on the album. Give Zac the freedom with the prevalent bass line and Slash room to roam on the drums, and the simple tune would soar. Glow's ravenous fans, the Glow Kids, would eat it up. He wished it didn't take his blood, sweat and tears to make the songs shine.
He glanced at the clock. He should be heading home, not staring at a page of lyrics. Being at the studio was soothing. It was like home without the reminders of Taygan.
Behind him, the door creaked open. Luc didn't bother to look up, instead he continued working on a rhyme for home. Comb. Come. Home. Rome... nothing really fit. He'd never been to Rome, refused to write a song with the word comb in it...
"Stupid ass song." Luc gritted his teeth as a breeze wrapped around him. "And who was the fucktard that turned on the air?"
Footsteps padded on the thick carpeting thumped up beside him. "What'cha trying to figure out?"
Luc's blood ran hot and cold. Taygan. He looked up from his notebook into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Goddess, he loved Tay's eyes.
Instead of saying something, Taygan simply leaned one elbow on the piano and grinned.
Luc fumbled for words. The scent of Tay's cologne combined with the gentle breeze created when Tay was in the mood, curled around Luc's brain. "You're back?"
"The fucktard is here." Tay wriggled his brows. "Happy?"
"Not enough." Luc shook his head. He wasn't totally sure where the words came from, but all the pent-up frustration came to a head. "This here one day, fuck the new year in and leave when the wind blows has my head all fucked up. I hate it. You might have some grand plan, but I fucking hate it."
"This has to be what we have for now." Taygan plopped down onto the bench and rested his chin on his folded arms. "I can't figure out the riddle."
"The riddle." Luc shook his head. He'd heard this shit before. Whatever. "Atria's found her counterpart." What did old Taygan think of that?
"No shit?" Taygan toyed with the keys at the right on the piano keyboard. "Cool."
The tune wasn't anything familiar, and yet it sounded like something Luc should know. "And my bassist is on hiatus," he said, continuing his line of reasoning.
"Coincidence?" Tay kept playing, adding a bit of humming to the mix. "Or too much Christmas ale?"
"No ale needed. He's a Guardian and her counterpart and he took a bullet for her."
"Cute." Adding the lower register to his little tune, Tay continued playing. "I didn't know I knew this much on the piano. Cool."
Luc slapped his hands down on Tay's hands, stopping the music. "Tay... I'm being serious." He closed his eyes. "What do I have to do to get through to you? I'm too damn old to play this game."
"So... let's stop playing for a while and just do what we do best." Tay inched his hands out from under Luc's and cupped Luc's cheek. "I want you."
"No."
"No?" Taygan scooted closer, resting his thigh on Luc's. He leaned into Luc, his breath skittering over Luc's skin. "Missed this. Missed you."
"I'm not a sex toy." Luc said the words, but the venom didn't resonate as Taygan rubbed his thighs. Tingles shot from his legs to his cock to his chest, muddling his thoughts. The rational part of his brain told him to stop. His libido wanted Tay more than ever.
Taygan climbed into Luc's lap and feathered kisses over Luc's cheeks. Passion blazed in his eyes. "We could use toys along with the rope. I'm game." He rubbed the bulge in his jeans against Luc's groin. "I'm always game with you."
"Taygan."
"Yes, say my name." Taygan threaded his fingers into Luc's hair and tugged. "Slap my ass, tie me up and make me come."
Somewhere deep in Luc's soul he splintered. He couldn't take the unknown, the anguish of whether Tay would be back. He'd been hurt too many times -- no more. "Taygan, either stay and be with me, or leave and don't come back -- ever."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1726

White Hot Christmas: Wrapped Around by Megan Slayer

White Hot Christmas: Wrapped Around
by Megan Slayer

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-720-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes, BDSM
Theme(s): Magic, Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Gay and Lesbian
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 25

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1732

Blurb:

Luc loves his role fronting the band Glow. He loves the adoration of the fans, the energy in the crowd, but it's Christmas. No one likes a Christmas alone.
Taygan's free spirit resists taming -- except when it comes to Luc. Luc's one hundred percent human. Taygan is all air elemental. He needs his space and freedom, but he'll do whatever it takes to make Luc happy, including giving up his space and freedom to make Luc's holiday one he'll never forget -- complete with the real Santa, peppermint candy, and lots of hot sex.

Excerpt:

White Hot Christmas: Wrapped Around
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Megan Slayer

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


Finally. Taygan gripped the back of Santa's oversized chair. Trust Luc to take his sweet time getting to the party. He'd probably spent the extra time basking in the cheers from the crowd. The man was a ham when he wanted to be -- loving the spotlight and the praise. For a moment Taygan could've sworn Luc saw him. Just as fast, he noticed Luc's frown. He wasn't seeing much of anything and probably didn't want to be there. Fine. Tay would give him a reason to stick around.
"See him?" Taygan whispered from his position behind the chair. "The one with the dark hair and grimace?"
Santa nodded. "I see him. I'm on borrowed time, here, so let's keep this moving. What are you and Atria planning?"
"That's who I want for Christmas. Him, true love, and my heart back. It's all one gigantic, candy-cane-colored present." Taygan brushed his hand over his mouth. He could still feel the tingle from Luc's kiss on his lips... a kiss from six months prior. He missed his lover. Missed Luc.
Taygan crouched behind the chair and watched Luc. The man moved with grace and certainty as he crossed the room. The leather pants encasing his tapered legs left nothing to the imagination. The shirt, a nice, tight T-shirt with Cheer emblazoned on the front, curved around the chiseled planes of his chest. Tay's cock twitched. He moved his hand over the bulge in his jeans.
Just another chance, that's what he needed. A chance to show Luc he cared.
"Just so you know, I am not sitting on your lap." Luc cocked his hip and folded his arms. "Not my kind of fetish."
"Fetish? Okay... Merry Christmas, Lucian," Santa boomed from his seat. "What would you like for Christmas?"
"A good night's sleep." Luc dropped his arms and tilted his head. "That's what I want."
"Why?" Taygan asked from his position. Shit. Shouldn't have said anything. He gritted his teeth and prayed Santa would catch the goof-up and save him.
"You can help yourself to a good night's sleep," Santa replied. "Medicines, warm milk, exercise... I'm sure they'd get you what you want more than I can."
"Are you the real Santa?" Luc challenged.
"I am."
"Then I want a good night's rest. Not another night where I'm tossing and turning begging for sleep. You see, it's rather cyclical."
"Cyclical?" Santa asked and leaned back in his seat.
Taygan suppressed a snicker. He loved it when Luc used fifty-cent words and got scholarly.
Luc sighed. "I used to sleep like a baby. I had the love of my life in my arms. He got me, and I loved him. Things were... the best. And then the shit hit the fan. His element couldn't be contained. I knew, but fuck. Love meant I should've let him go, right? I did. And now my boring old human ass can't sleep. I worry about him. He doesn't love me, and I accept it, but can I at least know he's happy and safe? You do that, tell me that, and I'll get that night of sleep I want."
"Tall order, what you want." Santa kicked the base of the chair. "Go to suite 511. Your present awaits."
"You've lost your mind." Luc turned away, shaking his head. "Just leave me alone."
"You're very angry for a man who makes millions of people happy."
"You would be, too, if the love of your life said he needed space and fucking vanished." Luc's shoulders slumped but he didn't turn around. The truth in Luc's words squeezed tight around Taygan's heart. He'd gone about what he saw as a temporary split totally wrong and he knew it.
Santa stood and put his hand on Luc's shoulder. "Luc?"
"What?" Luc turned slowly. "What did you say?"
"Trust me. Give into the spirit of the holiday and have some faith." Santa nodded. "Go to the room. I've got things to do that have nothing to do with you and a lot to do with rewarding those who've been good all year."

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1732

Faerie by Sharon Marie Bidwell

Faerie
by Sharon Maria Bidwell

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-723-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Magic, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1720

Blurb:

When Adam overreacts to his mother's matchmaking owing to stress, and insults an old friend, little does he know he's closer to the truth than he thinks. Calling Lane a fairy isn't the slight he thinks it is. Adam has very clear ideas concerning the type of man he's attracted to, and Lane isn't it.
Little does he know he's also goaded the other man into acting on feelings long suppressed. For both of them, what they feel during sex and afterwards brings more than a little magic into their lives. If they can survive their own mistaken beliefs and prejudices -- and outside threats -- they might just find something lasting together, and Adam might have to change his mind over the importance of physical attraction and what it means.
While Adam's shop burns around him, can he salvage more than the precious items for sale?

Excerpt:

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1720

Cirque Caprice: Ringmaster by Julia Talbot

Cirque Caprice: Ringmaster
by Julia Talbot

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-710-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Series: Cirque Caprice
Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1721

Blurb:

Amadeo may be the most charismatic ringmaster Cirque Caprice has ever seen, but security head Jon doesn't trust him. Jon knows too many of Amadeo's secrets. Amadeo knows he's changed, but he has no idea he has to prove it to Jon until it may be too late. Can Amadeo show Jon that a leopard can change its spots?

Excerpt:

Cirque Caprice: Ringmaster
Julia Talbot
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Julia Talbot

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


"No. No, I don't think his background check was as clean as you..." Jon trailed off, listening to Jake, the head security man for the corporation. In other words, his boss. He paced, the confines of his makeshift office seeming far too small. "No, it's just dodgy, is all. Nothing I can actually use. Sure. I'll keep an eye on him."
The hair rose on the back of his neck, and Jon turned to see Amadeo Perralo standing behind him. He held up a finger, trying to ignore the heat crawling up the back of his neck from being caught talking about the guy, and from how hot the man looked today.
"Okay. Yeah. No, I'm sure you're right. Bye." Jon hit the end button on his phone. "Can I help you?"
Amadeo sure tried to stare him down, strong jaw set, almost black eyes full of fire. "I certainly hope so. Why won't you sign off on the stage design?"
"It's not safe." While Jon did have reservations about the safety of the design, his main problem was Amadeo. The man posed far too much of a security risk. When someone ran away to join the circus, Jake might be not be too concerned with background checks, but Jon disagreed. A ringmaster had access to every part of the show. Amadeo should have check out more or less clean, but Jon knew things about the man that no one else seemed to care about. Jon didn't like secrets. No matter how attractive the package they came wrapped in.
"It's perfectly safe. This isn't the days of the old elephant and bear circus, my dear."
The patronizing tone made Jon grit his teeth. "Maybe not, but there are pyrotechnics and there's all sorts of equipment and shit. Those side-wing stairs..."
"Provide us with audience participation. You must leave them in."
"I must do what my boss tells me to do, and you are not him."
"He."
"That's pedantic bullshit."
Amadeo raised one jet-black brow. "I'm amazed you know the word."
"Oh, fuck you. You don't know squat about me." That did it; he was getting a hold of Jake again and telling him they weren't ready to run through their final dress rehearsal. He'd make a recommendation on Amadeo and then ask for a raise or a transfer. They didn't pay him enough for this constant aggravation. Amadeo was absolutely infuriating, from his complete resistance to paperwork to his penchant for hiring performers without consulting Jon first.
"Mmm. No. I'd do you, though."
Jon whirled to face Amadeo, his hands clenched into fists. "I swear to God, I am going to beat you to death."
"You're welcome to try." The evil gleam in Amadeo's eyes and the taunting grin on those pretty lips made Jon snap.
Jon actually took a swing at the man, a wild haymaker that was completely out of character for him, and completely at odds with his training. The blow connected, but not with Amadeo's face. Instead, his fist slapped against Amadeo's palm.
"Temper, temper," Amadeo murmured. "Very sexy."
"You -- I..." Jon was going to explode. He didn't trust this man, didn't like him, and he hated to admit it, but right now he wanted Amadeo sexually in the worst way.
"You and I, indeed. A very nice picture."
"Okay, I've had it. I am going to beat you until you can't see."
Amadeo kept the tight grip on Jon's hand, using it to draw him close enough that their chests touched. "Go ahead. Of course that's assault and will get you fired, but if you find it worthwhile..."
Jon's other hand moved before he even thought about it, flying in an arc toward Amadeo's face. He missed, which should have been impossible at that range, but it was almost like his hand had been deflected. Fucking bastard and his freaky "talent."
"I can think of so many uses for your hands, my dear. This is not one of them."
"You fucking -- mmph." Jon had no idea what he would have said, given the chance. Amadeo shoved the words right back down his throat, kissing him so hard he saw stars. His lips pressed back against his teeth, and Jon's eyes opened so wide with surprise that he could see every individual lash around Amadeo's eyes, could see the smooth texture of the man's skin, broken on his cheeks by dark stubble. Then he closed his eyes and let Amadeo have his mouth, opening up for the exploration. If he had been into purple prose he would call it a plundering.
He got his hands free, but instead of pushing Amadeo away, Jon clutched at the man's wide shoulders, his legs spreading so he could brace himself. His cock hardened, so fast it left him breathless and aching, his chest heaving with the need for air. The kiss eased just enough for him to gasp a few times, gulping in oxygen. Then Amadeo took his lips again, giving him no time to think. Thinking might be bad in a situation like this.
When they finally broke to breathe again, Amadeo reached down between them and squeezed Jon's cock through his black cargo pants. "Mmm. I knew you would be hot and hard. You taste like coffee and honey."
"Thanks for the color commentary." Christ, he'd lost his mind. Jon tried to get his hands to let go of Amadeo's shoulders, but it just wasn't happening. Traitor muscles.
"Are you the sort of man who doesn't like to talk during sex?" His cock got a nice hard squeeze. "I'm a talker, I'm afraid."
"I'm not having sex with you."
Amadeo pushed him back against the big desk he'd had brought in, the one luxury in his otherwise extremely mobile office. Folders, papers and what was possibly a stapler dug into Jon's back. "Oh, I disagree. In fact, I think we need to get started now."
"I don't think --"
Amadeo loomed over him, pressing down on his wrists, which were suddenly held captive in Amadeo's capable hands. "Don't think."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1721

Immortal Steps by Kira Stone

Immortal Steps
by Kira Stone

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-729-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 78
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1717

Blurb:

In the modern age, Vampirism is a newly identified medical condition, but Kyle's old school. He is trained to protect the unturned from the greedy Hunters who would sell them on the black market -- one piece at a time.
Tain, a renowned celtic dancer, has bitter memories of his first crush -- the trainer who left him without a word. For years he's flung himself from one brief romantic encounter to another, the subject of tabloid gossip and speculation, always insisting he's not gay. When Kyle, Tain's old mentor, comes back into Tain's life, the last thing Tain wants is to give the man, or the vampire, a place in his heart.
Kyle vows to keep Tain safe, even if he has to do it from a distance. He's got to regain his protégé's trust if they're both going to stay alive. That is, if Tain's emerging vampiric powers don't kill them both first.
Excerpt:
Immortal Steps
Kira Stone
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Kira Stone

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


Alone, Kyle Lohan entered his private balcony at the Grampian Theater in Edinburgh, Scotland. As he sat down, the house lights dimmed briefly to signal a two minute warning before the show began. The box smelled faintly of sex, although he doubted anyone without a vampire's heightened senses could detect the erotic scent. Regardless, it was his own fault for sneaking in to watch rehearsals the previous evening. He'd been unable to resist tugging his cock in time with the heavy beat of the dancers as they practiced.
Okay, not all the performers excited him. Just one.
Tain O'Halloran.
Tonight Kyle had better prepared for the public performance, or so he'd thought. The quick release during his shower should have calmed his libido enough to sit through the performance without a hard-on. But as the first strains of a flute solo poured across the stage, the anticipation proved to be more than his body could resist and his cock rose to an aching fullness.
Tain. On stage. His stage.
How long had he waited for this? Worked for this? Dreamed of this? Sometimes it seemed like forever. And yet, very soon, the moment he'd been preparing for would arrive. One way or another, he would finally end his long pursuit.
He adjusted the fit of his tuxedo pants as the chorus sprinted across the stage. Their shoes hit the wooden floor in rhythmic, staccato beats, flirting with the notes. Kyle couldn't stop his own feet from scuffing against the floor in a pale imitation of the dancers' fancy footwork. Had his heart been prone to beat, it would have been racing as fast as the music.
A few more seconds...
Then, appearing out of a flash of light and smoke, bam! There he was. Tain O'Halloran. The male lead's long, sleek black hair floated behind him as he bounced in perfect synchronization with the little blond at his side. His grey eyes flashed with pure joy and a little arrogance. A smile curved his thin pink lips. And what that black leather did for his ass...
Kyle groaned softly as his cock twitched with longing, but he refused to slake his lust. Privacy wasn't an issue, even during a public performance. No, nothing mattered more than soaking up every moment of this night to tuck away in his memories. If the evening didn't go as planned, this could be all he had left to remember the talented young man come morning.
The first dance ended, and Kyle felt the tightness in his chest ease as Tain exited stage right. He'd reappear several times throughout the performance.
Kyle itched with anticipation for the next time, and the next... and the next... By the second act, Kyle could pick out Tain's unique sweat from the morass of odors permeating the air. The scent teased his cock like nothing else. His whole body tensed as he imagined jumping over the balcony's rail to land on top of the dancer's young bones, then fucking him to within an inch of his life, claiming him on stage for all the world to see.
Well, that's one way to announce that you're back in his life, Kyle thought with a rueful shake of his head. Definitely not one of your brightest ideas though.
If anything, such a bold, stupid move would get him thrown out of Tain's life for good. Kyle's goal was quite the opposite. If he had his way, nothing would separate him from Tain ever again.
The show ended with a roar of applause that pulled the dancers back on stage for a second encore. Vibrant and smiling under the lights, Tain looked like he could hold out for a third reprise if the director let him. However, the rest of the troupe wasn't fairing as well, so when the curtains closed again the house lights came up.
The show was over, but Kyle's performance of a lifetime was about to begin.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1717

Dark Reign: Oathbound by Mychael Black

Dark Reign: Oathbound
by Mychael Black

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-707-9
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Dark Reign
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 24

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1713

Blurb:

Vaughn Burke is an Enforcer -- a werewolf working for Marcus Deleon and tasked to help their kind escape from the vampire Dalton Gray. When Marcus gives Vaughn a new case, it's not exactly what Vaughn expects.

Elian Levine is the guitarist for a metal band, but he has a secret no one knows. When he managed to escape Dalton Gray, he kept the truth hidden, even from his band mates. Now their need for a singer threatens to tear the lid off his closely-guarded past.

Excerpt:

Dark Reign: Oathbound
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Mychael Black

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


"No."
Elian Levine glared at the closed door where the latest loser had thankfully stepped through after a fucking awful audition.
"Dude, we've tried out every fucking singer in the city," Cole said as he set his bass down.
"I refuse to work with some half-assed idiot who can't be bothered to learn covers," Elian snapped. "If that makes me a God damned diva, so fucking be it!"
Behind his drum kit, Derick twirled a stick absently. "You're not a diva -- yet -- but Cole's right. We're running out of options. We've got gigs coming up, E."
Elian threw his hands up in the air, utterly frustrated. "Fuck it! I'll sing!"
"Uh, excuse me?"
He whirled around to face the next jackass to try out. "If you can't sing, might as well get the fuck out... Ah, shit."
"What Elian is trying to say," Cole interrupted, giving Elian the evil eye, "is hello. He's just in a pissy mood because most of the guys we've seen haven't bothered to even learn a single cover worth doing."
"Ah." The man extended a hand to Cole, though his gaze remained fastened on Elian. "Name's Vaughn Burke."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Cole Powers, bass. On drums, we have Derick Osborn."
"And Mr. Attitude is Elian," Vaughn finished. "We've... met."
Elian snorted. He switched his amp back on and waited until Cole was ready. "See if you can keep up."
He launched into "Sanitarium" -- classic Metallica. Not paying much attention, expecting Vaughn to stumble on the words, Elian nearly forgot the damn chords when the man began actually singing. Note for note, word for word, Vaughn nailed it. Without missing a beat, the man followed them through another three classic metal songs, and Elian grudgingly admitted they might have found their singer.
They wrapped up the final song, and Vaughn looked like he knew damn well what went through Elian's mind. Those eyes bore a hole through Elian, and he barely managed to suppress a shiver. He'd never heard Vaughn sing, though he'd heard rumors when they were in high school.
"Dude." Cole laughed and shook his head. He glanced at Derick, then Elian. "You got it."
Vaughn nodded. "Cool. I'm gonna step out for a cigarette."
The second the door shut, Cole grinned. "Fuckin' A, man! He's perfect!"
"He's an asshole."
"How do you two know each other anyway?"
Elian turned off the amp and set his guitar on its stand. "We went to high school together. I knew he was in a band, but didn't know he sang."
"You're okay with it, right?"
"Yeah. He's good, I'll give him that."
Derick packed up the last of his spare sticks and grabbed his wallet off the bass amp. "I need to get going. See you guys tomorrow night."
"I gotta head out, too," Cole said. "I'll catch up with you in the morning, E."
Elian waved them out, content to stay behind and clean up a bit. If he waited long enough, maybe Vaughn would be gone too. He hadn't seen the guy since they'd graduated, and that was perfectly fine with him. Vaughn Burke might have a god's voice -- and looks, if Elian let himself admit it -- but he was still an asshole.
"It figures you'd be the one I'd run into."
Fuck. "Yeah, well, just my luck you're the only fucking singer who can carry a tune."
The door shut and Elian glanced up briefly to see Vaughn leaning back against it, muscular arms crossed over hard chest. He didn't look like a guy who could sing worth a damn. He looked more like the football player he used to be. Unfortunately.
"Cut the shit, Levine."
"What?"
"How did you escape him?"
Elian froze, hand poised over a mic cable. No one, not even Cole or Derick, knew. How the hell did Vaughn? "Wh-what are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid. It's just you and me in here."
"Look." Elian gave up the pretense of cleaning up and stood, scowling at his high school arch nemesis... and the subject of every teenaged wet dream he'd ever had. "Doesn't fucking matter. No one else knows. I don't even know how the fuck you know. Why did you -- holy shit!" His jaw dropped as the man's face before him shifted into a sleek gray wolf's muzzle. "You... you're like me."
Vaughn shifted back, though how he did it without destroying his clothes, Elian had no idea. "I've been sent to bring you home, back to safety."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1713

Under and Over It by Megan Slayer

Under and Over It

by Megan Slayer

ISBN: 978-1-60521-712-3

Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary), BDSM

Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian

Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1704

Blurb:

Regan Finley's photography makes the local music scene shine. He's four months from his final exhibition and graduation. But instead of preparing for the party, he's fretting about his exhibition theme -- bondage and passion. There's one person he wants to make his exhibition come to life, if he can convince his housemate to participate.
Camryn Tate plays the music that makes the young girls scream. He likes being a local rock hero. When he finds out what Regan wants for the exhibition, Cam has to make a decision. He can let Regan have his commanding way and get the pictures he needs for the exhibition, or he can walk away from the best roommate and friend he's ever known... all because of a little ball of nylon rope.

Excerpt:

Under and Over It
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Megan Slayer<

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


"Have you come up with a theme for your final project?"
Regan jerked his attention to the sound of Camryn's voice. "Excuse me?" They'd been housemates for almost six months and known each other for a year beyond that, but this was the first time Camryn had shown real interest in Regan's artwork.
"I'll use English." Cam crooked one brow. "The big theatre show or whatever you all call it is in less than a month and half. What's your theme or idea or the art term for project thingy?"
"It's an exhibition at the Kline Gallery and yes, I've got a theme picked out. The title is still up in the air." Regan held his breath for a beat. "Right now I'm going with Confined Obsession." Well, that was part of the title, anyway.
Regan stared at Camryn with no idea what Camryn was thinking as he stared back with his drop-dead gorgeous green eyes. Regan stifled a groan. The guy could model professionally. Cam spent just enough time at the gym to be sculpted without getting too veiny, and he was one of those rare creatures who didn't have a ton of body hair all over the place. Regan swore Camryn Tate was made for photography.
Too bad Cam never bothered to volunteer to be Regan's model.
Instead of speaking, Camryn nibbled on the corner of his mouth, no doubt deep in thought. The longer he stayed silent, the more Regan's skin crawled. He wasn't totally sold on the project theme, but he didn't have much choice. "Confine" sounded so harsh... he wanted something equally emotional, but better said.
"How do you suppose you're going to show this confinement? I mean, it sounds like you're talking about someone being in jail." Camryn strummed his guitar, his fingers gliding over the strings to create a melody Regan had never heard before.
"It's a working title."
"That makes more sense." Cam closed his eyes and nodded in slow motion, caught up in his new composition. "Did you have to submit a timeline or anything? I've got exactly five weeks to get the bones of my music comp project done. I'm stumped. I thought maybe if you had a plan, your hyper plotting would rub off on me. It worked at mid-terms."
"Plotting?" Regan snickered. Here he'd thought no one recognized his latent OCD tendencies. Cam got him, as always. Regan stared at the computer screen. He felt a little better about his unspoken choice for the show. "Well, the plan was to show people in the midst of everyday activities but with the confinements and constraints put upon them by society. You know, like Cassidy and her son... Skylar with his suit and tie." Me and my sexuality with a roommate who doesn't know I want him for more than platonic reasons.
Yeah, there was no way in hell he'd throw that in. Camryn knew Regan was gay. Regan didn't exactly keep his taste for men hidden. But Regan wasn't interested in showing himself in the photographs -- he'd worked too damn hard in the space of four years obtaining his photography degree to do a series of self-portraits. Besides, his internship at Rock Monthly wasn't going to up and disappear because of his sexuality. Max and Skylar loved Regan's take on capturing the musical community in photographic form. But the friendship with Cam might crumble if love were injected into the scene.
"Who's going to be in the pictures? Sarah? Skylar? Cassidy might do it. Why don't you ask Marcie -- she's hot for you."
"They might do it, yes." Not quite the way Regan had planned, but they might get involved. "I kinda had an idea who I wanted for the model, but Marcie isn't on the list. She's in love with you."
"Yeah?" Camryn looked up from his guitar, still riffing the bouncy tune. "Well, I am hot, but she's not my type. Too thin." He bobbed his brows in time with the music. "Aren't I so full of shit? Now for the model. Anyone I know?"
"Your ego certainly is intact." Regan gathered his wits. If he didn't just say what he wanted, the moment would pass. He swallowed hard. "You -- I want you for the model."
How wasn't that a whisper? Shit. The declaration in the mirror had come out so much stronger when he'd practiced earlier that morning.
The strumming stopped, and the color bled from Cam's face. His eyes widened, making Regan's pulse skip about five beats. "You want me? I don't know what to say." He placed his hand on his heart in a dramatic fashion. "It's all so sudden. I don't have a speech planned."
"Drama king." Regan rolled his eyes. Hell, yes, he wanted Camryn, and not just for photographic purposes. When Camryn looked at Regan, his knees turned to jelly. He wanted those eyes fixated on him as he did devious things to Cam. Looking lovingly down at Regan while Cam swallowed him to the... oh, God. Regan needed to get out and get laid. He'd known lots of guys, both gay and straight, and as far as he knew, Cam wasn't gay -- just theatrical.
"Can I keep the guitar?"
Guitar? Regan forced himself to surface from the Cam-induced haze. "Sure." For a while, anyway. What Regan had in mind didn't include the instrument, but keeping it with Camryn had merit. "Actually, yeah, I do want you to have the guitar. I've got an amendment to my idea, and you playing will work perfectly. When's your next gig?"
"Tomorrow night at the Barricade. I'm sitting in with the Taylor Rogers Band for the May Day Festival. Tony's sick."
"Score one for you." The stage at the Barricade had the best lighting for photography. Reds, greens and blues all shimmering off the singer and players. Yes, that would be great. "I'll be there."
"You know, I'm excited. You never come see me play." Camryn strummed the guitar once again. A smile built on the corner of his mouth. "I like it, so don't wuss out." Cam toyed with the tuning pegs. "And I know you're going to get a huge head, but I'm kinda looking forward to being in your pictures. The folks in the music building think you're the bomb."
Regan sighed. He wanted to tell Cam not to fuck around with compliments, especially with the music people. At twenty-six, he was too damned old for empty flattery. Sure, Regan loved doing the photos -- capturing the heat of the performance was what he lived for. But damn, he hated being on the hair trigger. Four months without even so much as a date sucked balls. Regan scooted back into the safety of the couch. If he kept his mouth shut, Camryn would never know how much Regan wanted him for more than a good headshot.
Camryn stood and stretched. "I'm cashing in. Tomorrow will be late enough. May Day is a blast but man, the night is long, and I want to look good in those pics." He placed the guitar in its stand and raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in messy spikes. "Sleep and composition class tomorrow." He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped in the doorway. "Have you -- have you ever had a burst of creativity right when you really needed to crash?"
"That's why I pull the all-nighters. Not because I have to turn the project in the next day. It's the flow, the zone. Can't knock it when it shows up." Cam nodded, and a lock of his ebony hair slid over his forehead. "Yeah." The smile grew. "Night."
Once Camryn left the room, Regan covered his face in his hands. Creativity had walked in the door the moment he met Camryn down at the commissary. He probably wouldn't have paid attention, but Camryn sat on the steps and sang that Queen song so loud, Regan couldn't help but notice. Cam knew all the words, even when Freddie Mercury and the bass line garbled it. He didn't shy away when Regan sat down, instead making room for him on the concrete step.
Regan sighed. The moment Cam stopped playing and smiled, he'd fallen head over heels. And Cam had no idea.

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1704

Jazz Bang Boom by Willa Okati

 Jazz Bang Boom

by Willa Okati

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-537-2
Genre(s): Sci-Fi, Cyber-Punk
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 33

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1715

Blurb: 

T-minus sixty seconds. Really, it was bad manners to blow up a tea party, but some society dames were just asking for it. Jazz landed in the ornamental rose bushes outside his hostess's parlor window, gathered his heavy silk skirts around his knees, and ran like hell.
Jazz loves pretty things and things that go BOOM. Riot, aka "Tyger", is a man on a mission, searching for the bits and pieces that'll repair his damaged, bioconstructed DNA. It only makes sense for the happily mismatched lovers to turn pirate and sneak, snatch or con what they need.
One problem: occasionally Jazz gets a little too fond of explosives, and Tyger gets a tad too focused on his quest. And when that happens... well. That's when the adventuresome airshipmen need to vent a little steam.
Excerpt:
Jazz Bang Boom
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Willa Okati

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


T-minus sixty seconds. Really, it was bad manners to blow up a tea party, but some society dames were just asking for it. Jazz landed in the ornamental rose bushes outside his hostess's parlor window, gathered his heavy silk skirts around his knees, and ran like hell.
Not that he was worried. Jazz knew his explosives like he knew his way around the three-dimensional differential equations of a projected illusory field.
And wine. And perfume. What? Jazz prided himself on having layers.
He ticked off the seconds in his head, listening to an internal countdown. Right about now the aforementioned queens of "polite" society (and those who knew Jazz knew far better than to push a particular argument on behavior becoming to a lady and the mind-boggling double-standards that -- oh, anyway).
Jazz did enjoy traveling to different worlds and sampling the finest wines, velvets, songs and yes, incendiary devices from the thousands of cultures that flourished around the galaxies, but the next time his honey, Riot, wanted to spend time where good manners were forbidden in favor of good times? No thanks.
Where had he been? Oh, right. Crap! Cue the fine ladies screeching, coughing and sneezing, the last of a harmless fog floating out the window he'd helpfully, er, opened by jumping through, and they might have regained enough composure after the flash and bang that went with the smoke to have started complaining and oh, right.
Five, four, three, two --
Jazz managed to free himself of the pannier hoops just in time to dive under the cover of a cluster of almost-certainly-sacred ancient oak trees, before -- BOOM.
If a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing properly. "Proper." See what I did there?
This time, however, the dainty device of detonation had not been hidden in Jazz's decolletage (quite convincing cleavage, if he did say so himself). He'd set the charges long before smiling politely and pretending to enjoy a coin-sized cress sandwich in the ladies' salon.
BOOM.
There, that was the ticket! One for distraction, two to cause confusion to his enemies, e.g. the people in possession of A Thing Jazz Wanted, and a third to blow the ever-living fuck out of irritatingly secure locks that otherwise prevented his honey from wholesale liberation of a few deliciously prized goods.
POOF.
Oops. He'd forgotten the fourth bomb in the salon. Well, that one had been a bit spur of the moment. And a leetle more powerful. Enough to, say, jar loose some ripe pickings of his own, if he were lucky. All he needed to do was circle back around, and --
The discreet two-way comms device concealed in the cunning shape of a rosebud earring spoke to him. "Overkill, Jazz. Overkill."
"Spoilsport," Jazz said, and sneezed. "Let he who has never enjoyed the smell of C4 in the morning cast the first stone in a glass house."
"Excuse me?" The voice on the comms sounded amused. "You're high on adrenaline again, aren't you?"
"Pish, tosh, nonsense, and absolutely, yes. Perhaps that was overkill. Others could say I was in the wrong, but I can't blame me."
"You are a ridiculous man," the speaker said fondly.
"I know." Jazz preened. He sneezed again. "Tch. Plastique is one thing. Debris coated in dust is quite another. What about you, tick-tock man? Did you get what you came here for?"
"Stop calling me that," Riot said, quite clear -- even over the comms -- that he didn't mind in the least, and even had a soft spot in his heart for the nickname. "Yeah, I got what I needed. And then some. Wasn't easy to find and I had to pay a price, but it was worth it."
Jazz enjoyed a ripple's worth of goosebumps. He anticipated all sorts of good things once back on board the Sarah-Jessica-No-Parking. A triumphant Riot made for a feisty Riot with his blood running hot and his body all-systems-go. He employed the same affectionate tone when he replied, "Tell that to the watercress and unspiced kimchi I had to eat to make nice with my hostess."
"The one you just blew up?"
"Unspiced kimchi," Jazz repeated.
"The trials and tragedies you face, darlin'."
"Darn right. This piece of the puzzle you went after -- tell me about it," he coaxed.
"Later. For the moment --"
"Yes, yes. Run and keep running until you swoop in to save the day, and clear out of here before the smoke does?"
"You read my mind," Riot said, very dryly indeed but pleased. Almost purring.
Consider Jazz's curiosity piqued.
"I'm on my way." Such a tragedy, but the skirts had to go. Almost a full bolt of silk! Still, a man had to do what a man had to do, even when he'd tricked himself out in the finest of ladies' clothing.
Probably more so at such times. Hmm. He'd have to think about that more later. In the meantime, business. Beautiful, sparkly, gloriously shiny business! Jazz retrieved the pouches of more easily liftable and valuable trinketry from the panniers and pushed them into his reticule.
"Jazz? When I said run, that wasn't a suggestion."
Oh! Right. "And what'll you be doing while I skedaddle? How will I know if I'm being rescued by the right man?"
"I'll be the one dangling out of an airship with a rope and a half-cocked plan."
"Easily recognizable," Jazz said happily. Wait. "How long a rope? How high do the airships go?" Wouldn't exactly Be Done to whip off the 3-D fooler facade, and on this steampunk aficionado's wet dream of a world the airships he'd seen before had to go quite high indeed --"Riot? How high?"
"High enough I'll make it worth your while to man up and climb. And," Riot purred, "when I say 'worth your while' I mean, 'I plan to punish you, then fuck you three-quarters of the way through the nearest flat surface.'"
"I am so on my way now."
"Fast?"
"Darling, you have no idea." Jazz kicked off his heels. Not the shoes, mind, those gorgeous soft-supple open-calf boots of fawn-soft suede. Just the heels and pattens. "After all, who do you think you're talking to?"
Oh dear. Jazz heard a set of mastiffs on their way. Here I go again. Skirts, knees, running feet, check. Go time.
Fast.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1715