The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

Stuart’s need to care for him shows Joe that the right person can heal all wounds.

  Stuart’s ability to fight for what he wants gives Joe the courage to take a leap of faith and trust again.

  Stuart shows Joe that he will go to any lengths to protect their love.

  But Joe has learnt over many months of running there are some things you can’t escape. A mischievous cat, a protective best friend, a shooting, a kidnapping and an ex-boyfriend who won’t let go, turn Joe’s world into chaos. Can he trust in those around him to bring his destiny back to him?

  Destiny Collides, Past and Present is the third book in the Manx Cat Guardian Series, these books are not standalones and need to be read in order to gain the background. It is an MM romance, with hurt comfort, soulmate connection, steamy scenes, and ancient paranormal cats that like to interfere. This book has a HEA.

  Trigger Warning: There are some scenes of violence.

  Throughout history, we have witnessed thousands of strange, unexplained ancient mysteries. Many could undoubtedly be explained away as everyday events that we merely misunderstood. However, there remain a large number that defies all logic.

  Folklore tales mention “animal familiars,” often repeated in fables. Magical spirit creatures resonated throughout history in creation myths, “familiars” or “spirits” often were seen as a type of guardian angel. Over centuries these stories were forgotten.

  Mystical Manx cats originate on a little island in the middle of the Irish Sea, the Isle of Man. Identified only by their lack of a tail, these mythical creatures’ abilities became elusive, much like the Manx fairies. But, those that have the privilege of living with one of these unique animals have an innate understanding that they are so much more than just a pure cat.

  2007

  Stuart

  Stuart could barely contain his frustration, feeling his hands fist into balls. He stalked out the Cummings building, heading straight down Kensington towards Notting Hill tube station. Loosening his tie, he heaved a sigh of disgust at his own behaviour. Shifting uncomfortably in his suit jacket. He could feel the sweat-drenched shirt sticking to his upper torso. Opening his jacket, he let the breeze cool his overheated body.

  He could still taste the oppression that had suffocated him inside that dreadful place, swallowing past the bitterness, he looked for the nearest shop, stopping, he got what he needed. Stepping out of the flow of people, Stuart took several large gulps of cold water. He let the iciness ease his parched throat, removing the sour aftertaste the interview had given him. Taking a deep breath to clear his rioting mind.

  Whatever satisfaction he’d felt at receiving an interview with the prestigious company, was long gone. The meeting may be over, but he internally cursed the reality it had left him with. He was going to need to man up, because it would appear Malcolm Cummings was a first class homophobic bastard. His company was offering Stuart an opportunity of financial security he desperately needed, the thought had him swallowing the ball of tears that gathered at the back of his throat.

  Stuart blinked back the tears, avoiding eye contact with those moving around him. He felt his grief clinging to his heart as he struggled to come to terms with the past seven months. Everything had changed. Stuart kept his eyes downcast, considering what was left of his life, a sob escaped before he could stop it. His carefree existence completely gone with a diagnosis he’d not comprehended would blow his foundation to smithereens.

  His circumstances failing to give him time to grieve, his father’s death barely weeks ago, had to be paid for, along with treatment costs and his sister’s university fees. The reality had been hard for all of them when his mother’s income barely covered the household bills, never mind the thousands of pounds of debt. Those promises he’d made on his father’s deathbed to support his family no matter what, were now a hard reality. Stuart fought past the panic, sucking in a breath he felt London’s smog clog his lungs. The heaviness of the air barely registered past his out of control thoughts.

  His family was now solely reliant upon him and his income to pay the debts incurred through non funded chemotherapy treatments. He didn’t begrudge those precious months the treatment had given them as a family, any price was worth paying. The silent prayer he sent to his father for understanding had his heart seizing.

  The compromises he was going to have to make had his hands thrusting into his perfectly styled silver-blond hair, pushing it back from his face. Stuart’s charcoal grey eyes burned with intent, his body vibrated with the wildness inside him. He stalked down the street oblivious to the looks he was receiving, people moved away as if sensing the danger.

  Stuart watched the crowd of fast moving people around him with unseeing eyes. The fifty thousand flies now circulating in his system had his insides clutching in distress recalling every homophobic slur Malcolm had interjected into the conversation. The constant litany throughout the interview had him hiding his white-knuckled fists under the table. His face, on the other hand, had been harder to control with each disdainful remark. Stuart could feel the ache in his jaw even now, a testament to his restraint. Rubbing at his stubbled jaw, he hoped to ease it a little.

  His dry chuckle sounded harsh to his ears when he considered he couldn’t afford additional dental costs if he continued to grind his teeth, and preventing himself from telling Malcolm to shove his job where the sun don’t shine. He wondered what would cause such hate, and how the hell was he going to survive intact?

  He could already feel the weight of the decision weighing him down. It would seem his being gay was going to be a real problem if he accepted the job as Assistant Divisional Manager. Fuck, he’d never hidden in his life. It looked like at the ripe old of twenty-six he was going to have to jump into a closet he’d never had to use.

  He would also need to purchase a mask of indifference along with a ‘don’t give a fuck’, because sure as hell he was going to need those. Now, all I need is to find the shop that sells those, he couldn’t help the small smile at the stupidness of his own thoughts.

  Realising he’d stopped when he felt people jostle him. The excitement and noise flowed around him, highlighting his isolation even more. A city that was proud of embracing all would normally have Stuart anticipating what would come next, but now, all it did was mock him. His right to choose and be who he is, was about to be removed through no fault of his own. The thought had his shoulders sagging into his suit jacket, stopping at the traffic lights.

  Stuart’s foot tapped impatiently, wanting to get home so he could talk through his issues with his mother, he willed the lights to change. A hard jostle to his left side had him turning and glaring, he was in no mood to accept an apology.

  Words died on his lips, dumbstruck, everything faded away. Stuart’s whole world condensed down into a pair of eyes sparkling with humour behind horn-rimmed glasses. The melted chocolate gaze held him riveted. A small Elphin face seemed consumed by large glasses that didn’t hide the intelligent eyes sparkling behind the lenses. The upturned nose struggled to hold the glasses in place as hands waved in animated conversation. A perfect cupid bow mouth moved ten to the dozen, hardly stopping to breathe. Stuart couldn’t tear his eyes away, completely captivated. He tried guessing his age, his youthful appearance seemed at odds with the conversation. Not at all concerned that he was earwigging, Stuart had no clue what the electronic components were as they talked, but they sounded complicated.

  The surge of people behind him had them all stepping forward into the now clear road. Stuart moved with the crowd, following a few steps behind. The man carried on oblivious to the lack of response from the person with him. Stuart’s feet kept pace even as he realised he was heading in the wrong direction. The man’s exuberance contagious, the urge to touch made his fingers tingle in anticipation. He wanted to take a little of the joy radiating from him.

  Stuart felt pulled towards the man, as if the earth’s force field was dragging him towards what he needed. The strangeness of his thoughts had him haltin
g mid-stride. Pushed from behind, Stuart lurched forward catching the young man’s arm as he wobbled.

  “Fuck sake, man, watch where you’re going.” The stranger’s anger had him hold his hands up in silent apology.

  Stuart aimed an apologetic smile at the disgruntled man before turning back around. A blinding smile in front of him had air stuck in his chest. Stuart tried to get his brain to function as air whooshed past his lips when the man spoke.

  “You okay, man?” The melodic voice seemed to float over him. Stuart was unsure of the accent, but he could listen to him talk all day. Feeling tongue-tied, he struggled to respond. Strange sensations spread across his chest when the man’s humour turned to concern at his lack of response. The feel of small, warm work-roughened fingers on his hand had him freezing. The internal sizzle ignited his body into overdrive, shocking him senseless when he felt an internal click as if a lock had opened inside him. Holy shit, what on earth was that?

  Stuart yanked back his tingling hand, rubbing it down his trouser leg. He watched the other man copy his action, his eyes widened as if in shock. Christ, he had to have felt it too? Stuart found himself nodding, wetting his dry lips, gulping in the smoggy air, hoping it would help his racing heart. Words formed but his mind wouldn’t release them.

  The man didn’t wait for Stuart to get his shit together. He bobbed his head towards Stuart, giving another quick flash of his amazing smile, before quickly chasing after the other man who’d been oblivious to their moment, and had carried on walking.

  The urge to follow had his gut churning, his mind chanting, mine, mine, mine. His jealousy so unexpected had his hands ball into fists. Thoughts of any person touching that man, had rage pulsing as his head pounded. The stupidity of his own possessive thought not lost on him, but it didn’t stop the questions his mind wanted answers to. Who was he? What was the other man to him? Were they boyfriends, work colleagues, friends?

  The questions had him pulling his hair in frustration. Stepping into the entrance of an alley, needing a moment to calm his arse down. The scent of rotting food hardly registered as he searched the crowd, neck craning to keep sight of the man for a few seconds longer, before the crowded street swallowed him. He clutched the wall, when the loss equivalent to his father’s death took hold. Locking his shaky legs together, he panted past the urges his brain was firing at him. His ears buzzed with his accelerated heartbeat; taking several minutes, he tried to regain his footing.

  Rubbing at his sweaty face, I must have imagined it, surely? Am I losing my marbles? Is that what is wrong with me? Maybe it’s stress? He hung on to the thought like a life line, yes it had to be that giving him these weird feelings and strange emotions for a complete stranger. His laughter sounded strained as he tried to convince himself he was being stupid. You couldn’t possibly fall in love at first sight, could you? The ache in his chest seemed to be telling him differently. Shit, he could be jailbait and straight for all Stuart knew.

  Muttering, “Bloody buggering hell!” Stuart forced himself out of the alley and dragged his unwilling self towards the Notting Hill tube station. Every step a painful strike to his heart, his eyes watered in distress, but he continued. He was being ridiculous, all he needed to do was to get the fuck out of London, get home, sort out the mess that was his life and forget about those chocolate eyes that melted his heart into a puddle, easy. Stuart gave a heartfelt sigh, ignoring the nagging voice at the back of his mind telling him differently.

  Princess

  Princess rolled her eyes, only half listening to the rant that was making her ears ring, “mother?” Her exasperated tone ignored, the telling off in full flow, it hit fast and furious, making Princess give up trying to rationalise her actions. Shrugging her small shoulders before settling on her velvet pillow. It wasn’t going to change anything, they had been having the same conversation for weeks, blah, blah, blah. She was convinced she had done the right thing, regardless of some alleged breach of an ancient law about revealing her abilities. Princess chuffed, ancient laws total gobbledygook, who remembers that crap, anyway?

  Brad and Martin were happy and safe, so what was the problem? None as far as she could see. Resting her head on her paws and closing her eyes, she concentrated on trying to find out who her new charges were instead.

  Paying no attention, the threats sailed over her head making her mother smirk. Princess thought she wasn’t aware of the exact moment she had zoned out of their conversation. Well, she had warned her for the last time, consequences millennia old were there for a reason. There would be fireworks, sure as day was light and night was dark. It would happen when Princess realised you couldn’t mess with the laws of nature and not expect to reap those consequences. Slipping out of Princess’s mind chuckling in pleasure. Yes, her daughter was in for one big shock.

  Stuart

  Stuart threw his bags, the thud as they landed gave him little satisfaction. “What the fuck is wrong with me, why the hell did I offer to look after Brad’s cat? I don’t even like bloody cats!” His arms flailed above his head in temper, stomping back and forth for the twentieth time, convinced he was probably wearing a hole in the carpet. He didn’t consider the other patrons in the hotel, continuing to rant.

  Stopping mid rant, Stuart stared at the hotel door as if it had grown two heads. The tapping he heard was insistent pulling him out of his head. He stalked to the door, yanking it open he growled, “Yes?”

  A girl dressed in the hotel’s receptionist garb stuttered as large green eyes engulfed her face. “I… emm… have had a report… of a disturbance, sir. Is everything alright?”

  Her timid question had him attempting to rein his anger in. It wasn’t her fault he was having a crappy day. He heaved a sigh of frustration while attempting to give his best smile. “Sorry I dropped a bag while I was sorting through my stuff. I may have been a little angry at myself. Please accept my apology. I hope I didn’t cause a problem for anyone.” Liar, liar pants on fire, his mind chanted, reminiscent of a little child.

  He shook off his childish thoughts, putting a little more effort into the smile. Realising he’d gone too far when a rosy flush heated her cheeks and long black lashes battered and fluttered at him. Stuart gave an internal groan, the poor girl was barking up the wrong tree. He did not swing that way, preferring something hard underneath him. The cute waiter who had served his breakfast that morning definitely more his cup of tea. Images of tight black trousers and firm solid arse cheeks had his trousers tightening. The receptionist spoke, rousing him from his daydream.

  “My name is Georgina, and I’m here to make sure all of your needs are met. Is there anything I could do for you today?” Her eagerness, along with an ample chest, pressed forward.

  Stuart smothered his chuckle. “No thank you, I am just packing to check out, but thank you.” Stuart shut the door firmly on her disappointment. He went back to packing, shoving clothes into his bags, his earlier anger wanting to resurface. He made a concerted effort to calm down, pondering how his life had turned upside down in just a few ruddy weeks.

  A careful planner, he weighed up everything, considered all his options before making any decisions. Yet, there he was, having jacked in a highly paid job for no apparent reason, moving to a small island in the middle of the Irish Sea. At his first interview he ended up meeting with Brad Cummings, the son of Malcolm, his archenemy. The blast from his past could have potentially derailed his life further. A past he tried hard to forget came back to haunt him. Malcolm Cummings was not someone he wanted to be reminded off, but his son was here, doing just that.

  Stuart recalled the first time he’d met sixteen year old Brad and how sadness had emanated from his small fragile face. A distinctly feminine face, surrounded by blond curls interwoven with gold strands glinting under the lights of the hall. Soft, vivid green eyes, high slashing cheek bones, a small button nose, and ripe pouty lips that had captivated Stuart. The small stature initially had Stuart think he was younger than his years, but there was a leve
l of maturity in his eyes that belied his years. It was only after he’d witnessed the sickening interactions between father and son that he understood the deep sadness Brad portrayed when he thought no one was watching.

  His own sexuality had never been problem for his family; accepting and loving him for who he was. It had been such a shock to the system to see something so blatantly abhorrent. For his part, he’d sat quietly by, participating through his silence, giving the impression he’d agreed with what Malcolm was doing.

  He remembered how drained he’d always felt after those visits. The sorrow had dug deep, creating sleepless nights, he had no one to blame but himself. Stuart wasn’t proud that it had taken months before his horrifying behaviour and thoughts of how disappointed his father would be stopped him from visiting the house altogether. He’d self-medicated with alcohol, but the images burned into his mind physically hurt.

  Stuart felt the cold creep inside him, guilty memories tasting sour, he contemplated Brad’s current fucked up situation. Who would believe that Malcolm Cummings would attempt to kill his own son? Christ, he knew he was an asshole but this, what kind of monster does that just because his son is gay? He ruminated, unable to comprehend he’d worked for a monster, all that time not knowing what Malcolm was really capable of, attempted murder.

  Stuart felt his aggravation growing. Throwing his clothes into the bag, choosing to overlook his shaking hands, he knew he wasn’t fooling himself. His life had gone to shit in a hand bag in 2007 when he had taken the job with Malcolm. Regardless of it digging his family out of the financial hole, the six years he’d spent with the company had changed him. He’d behaved in ways that were not him, making his natural openness a thing of the past. He’d hid behind a neutral mask he’d had to cultivate to survive.