As Spence embarks on a journey to learn the Coyote’s creed, the truth about his heritage, and how to handle his growing attraction to Rourke, he wonders when his life turned from TV sitcom to real-life danger zone. And what price must he pay to survive the next roll of the dice…
Warning: Contains PG-13 rated violence, R-rated language and X-rated hotel scenes. Meta-humor, pop-culture humor, utter disregard for the 4th wall abound.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Coyote’s Creed:
He chances a glower before returning his eyes to the road. “Spencer, you have looked as you do all of your life. Imagine how humorous it was whenever you claimed mythical creatures didn’t exist while you were in the same room with them. Now, as I was saying, normally Her Grace would graciously afford me lodging at the Regent, but since you’re plotting actions that will further the Feud, I cannot render any assistance. You, however, should have no problem getting a room on your own there.”
“Are we talking about the same place? The one in Allora? On Park Street?” The one that costs a few bills a night and has the little fridges with the fifty-dollar cookies. “Rourke, I can run a decent short con…”
“That you can, my boy, especially with your cards.”
“But I doubt I can hustle a room at the Regent without, well, hustling.”
“I’m certain you’ll think of something.” And he does sound sure of that.
Nothing jumps out. Most of my short cons only yield double digits, and I doubt I could set up a Three Card Monte in downtown Allora without being arrested inside of ninety seconds.
By the time he pulls into the garage for the Regent, I’m scraping the barrel. Whoring into a room is not an option (I could never face Mom again), but I don’t really see any other way. Technically, if I had the cash I could get a room as I’m eighteen and they’re bound by law to not refuse me service as long as I can foot the bill, but seeing as I don’t have that kind of money on me and… And…
My God his eyes are amazing.
“Spencer?” He cocks his head, confusion in his gaze, and I lean closer. “This is hardly a good time to—”
I unbuckle my seat belt and straddle his lap, facing him, my hands stroking along his sides, gripping his ass, rubbing over his groin where I feel definite movement while I kiss him hard. He doesn’t push me away. From his grunts and moans, I’m guessing he’s enjoying it. After nearly a minute I break away from him, my breathing a bit heavy, my forehead resting against his. “Sorry, I…I don’t know why I keep doing that, it’s just that you’re…” I kiss him again. “I really shouldn’t be doing this, not with everything that’s happening and…” I chance a grin. “How long is that wine supposed to last, anyway?”
Rourke has a slightly dreamy look in his eyes as his lips brush mine. “Get out of the car, please. My restraint is nearly at its end and you need to secure a room. Now go on. Please.”
I get out of the car, stuff my hands in my pockets and start toward the lobby elevator before taking a long, lingering look at him. He gestures for me to keep going. As luck would have it, the elevator is right there, and I board, taking one hand out of my pocket to push the lobby button.
And a second after the doors close and the car goes into motion, I take my other hand out, which holds an expensive leather wallet, and press the button for every one of the hotel’s twenty-three floors, ensuring that it’ll be at least a few minutes before it returns to the garage. Granted, he’ll eventually use the stairs once he realizes that I just made off with his wallet along with his…
Holy shit, with his almost twenty Benjamins.
I know he’ll find me, I haven’t taken the time to work on an alias or three, and a place like this requires ID even if you’re paying in cash. I do have a fake ID, but it’s good enough to get me into a few dive bars, not the Regent Hotel.
And if he didn’t want me to pull his cash, he shouldn’t have picked the most expensive hotel in the City. Plus, I don’t know how I managed to lift it anyway. First I was kissing him and ready to tear his clothes off right there in the car, and the next moment I knew it was time to make a hasty retreat. Pulling wallets is usually my weak area.
Maybe Rourke is right. Maybe some part of me is finally waking up and making itself known.
The woman at check-in is human, though in the office beyond the desk I see a very good-looking man with green skin and pointed ears. I request a single, nonsmoking, dry minibar, and all that’s available and ready is a suite with a view of Tolon Park which will be fifteen hundred.
The look on her face when I lay out the hundreds in a nice even line is almost worth the fact that Rourke is probably going to kill me. The second I have my keycard in my hands I walk briskly to the bank of elevators with a bellhop in tow. As the bellhop pushes the button for the twentieth floor, a well-dressed and extremely agitated man strides across the lobby after me. I can’t help it.
I wave to Rourke just as the doors close.
The elevator is ritzy, with soft colors, rich woods, a filigreed button panel, and a throwback brass half-dial to indicate the floor rather than the customary digital display or bank of lights. When the bell dings the twentieth, the bellhop goes ahead of me, a well-practiced customer-service smile on his face as he motions to his left with a white-gloved hand.
“Twenty-seventeen is right this way, sir.”
The expensive green carpets and verdant accents on the wall make me wonder if I’ve wandered into the Emerald City. He shows me how to open the door, and I let him, since he’s obviously working for a tip. The door beeps softly, a gentle green light appearing on the lock.
Holy shit.
The suite is, well…
When I hear the word suite, I just assume big bedroom, seeing as Mom tends to watch a lot of HGTV and that’s the only place I hear the word used with any frequency. Instead I walk into an apartment that is far nicer and a fair bit bigger than mine. The bellhop gives a tour, but I really only register words here and there. Kitchen, balcony, Jacuzzi, California king (whatever the hell that means). The TV is huge, with a big couch, there’s a dining table and I can see Tolon Park from most of the windows. Seriously. Damn.
The bellhop says something, probably fishing for a tip. I manage to pull one of the hundreds from the wallet and hand it to him absentmindedly. The door closes behind him before I realize I just tipped somebody three weeks’ grocery money. Best to put the rest in my pocket before I spend it on tiny bottles of soda.
“Quite impressive, isn’t it?”
I freeze, not wanting to look behind me. Managing a wince and a self-reproachful look, I turn to find Rourke, slightly sweaty, his arms folded, foot tapping. Meekly, I hold the wallet in front of him, and he snatches it from my hand.
“You stole from me, Spencer.”
I think he’s pissed.
“Uh, you told me to find a way into a room, right?” I chuckle nervously and try a playful shrug.
“You stole from me. Do you have any idea who I am, boy?” He takes a step closer, and I step back. Undeterred, he continues to back me off while he’s speaking. “I am Redmond O Fucking Rourke. Riordan to the Summerswords. King of the Gods-damned Phouka and you dare to steal from me.”
My back hits a wall, and he places his hand on my chest, keeping me still, his eyes smoldering.
Burning Bright
A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder
Curiosity never killed this cat, but love could have deadly consequences.
Sasha Soskoff has two reasons for moving to Chicago: secure a tenured position in veterinary research medicine, and widen his horizons. After a night at the city’s hottest new club, though, a wrong turn down a dark alley narrows his focus to surviving three muggers. As consciousness fades, he catches a glimpse of his rescuer, whose mere appearance is enough to chase the attackers off.
Neal Harrison doesn’t often have to call on his skills as an ex-Marine to maintain control at his club. But with Sasha, he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. Yet
there’s danger in allowing any close relationships, particularly with a naïve young newcomer. The safety of his business depends on the iron-clad secret he and his ex-Marine buddies all hide.
While Neal seems happy to satisfy Sasha’s insatiable curiosity about the erotic scenes played out in the club’s private rooms, Sasha senses his new lover is holding something back.
When the truth claws its way out amid a night of tribal blood and violence, Neal discovers his lover has a secret of his own. And that the forces arrayed against them all could make a mugging look like a walk in the park…
Warning: Contains explicit, adult situations: male on male, more males on several more males, no-holds-barred erotic scenes, no-claws-barred violence, and love forged in the heat of desire.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Burning Bright
Copyright © 2011 by A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder
ISBN: 978-1-60928-526-5
Edited by Tera Kleinfelter
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2011
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
About the Authors
Also Available from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Copyright Page
Burning Bright Page 24