The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  “Hey, less of the murder talk, okay?” Brody said, his gaze checking nobody had crept up on them to hear Nick’s threat.

  The lift doors opened as he went to stand, and the PA, he’d met but couldn’t remember her name, strolled out on killer heels. Her navy pinstriped suit was smart without being severe. The white blouse under the jacket highlighted her golden skin. Her smile was genuine when she greeted him.

  “Hello, Brody, it’s been a while. How are you?” She offered her hand as Brody took it, his mind frantically searching for her name, Nick stood up.

  “It’s good to see you. I want to introduce you to Nick, my partner.” At a loss on how to refer to her, Nick took the matter out of his hands.

  “Hi, and you are?”

  “Stephanie Goodall. It’s nice to meet you, Nick.” Her brow rose at Brody while she offered Nick her hand.

  The awkwardness of the moment wasn’t lost on any of them when Stephanie stepped back and indicated to the lifts. “If you follow me, Mr Mason is finishing a meeting, and he has a fifteen-minute gap before the next one,” she said, walking into the open lift and pressing the button for the management floor.

  Having attended the hotel on numerous occasions when he’d dated Luke, Brody was aware that the hotel housed a floor of offices at the very top. A silence descended as no one spoke on the short journey.

  Once they exited the lift, Brody took hold of Nick’s hand, not sure if it was for Nick’s benefit or his own. Sweaty palms stuck together when Nick gripped his hand. He squeezed it and followed Stephanie down the plush carpeted corridor. Wetting his lips, he took deep inhales, praying it would stop his ears from buzzing.

  They stepped into the outer office as the door leading into Luke’s office opened and two men walked out. It took a second to register Nick was gripping his hand for all he was worth. Brody bent down and whispered, “I love you.”

  He chuckled as Nick huffed at him, mumbling a low curse as he glowered at him, failing to notice Luke moving towards them.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Luke snarled. The two men who were with him froze, their faces wearing looks of shock.

  Stepping in front of Nick, whose fists clenched and body trembled, Brody warded Luke off. “Cool down, Luke. I think why we are here should be for the privacy of your office and not for all to hear, don’t you think?” His brows rose as he subtly indicated the two men and Stephanie, who, judging by the way her eyes gleamed and the fact that she was chewing her lips between her teeth, was obviously doing her best not to smile.

  He silently applauded himself for the quiet restraint he’d managed to use, but the death stare he was on the receiving end of from Luke quickly quashed his self-pride. Something ugly passed over Luke’s face before he could conceal it, and suddenly Brody wasn’t sure if he hadn’t made a big mistake. His shoulders tensed when Luke turned his attention towards Nick before flicking a fake smile at the two men still standing there, apparently not to know what to do. The tension in the room mounted until Stephanie guided them to the outer door, muttering about setting up the next meeting. The door was shut behind her, blocking out any replies.

  Tension continued to mount as they all stood, with Brody at a loss for where to start.

  Nick, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same problem and bellowed, “Hey, fuckface, he’s mine now, so you need to back off.”

  Brody wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his outburst. Not getting a chance to do either, he pushed Nick behind him as Luke charged towards them, faster than a stampeding herd of stampeding cows. “You lay one fucking finger on him, and you’ll find there is no place on this earth you’ll be safe.” He glared at Luke as he growled the threat through clenched teeth, stopping him in his tracks. Luke’s face was flushing an ugly shade of red, his eyes gleaming with something Brody couldn’t decipher.

  “So the detective I hired was right. This… person is your boyfriend.”

  A low, threatening snarl came from behind Brody at the disdainful way Luke spat out the word boyfriend.

  Nick jumped around him, his hands clenched at his sides, his chin all but poking Luke in the eye. “Yes, your detective is correct. Brody is mine, and you need to stop being an arsehole and get over yourself.”

  Brody was about to intervene, but instead his mouth dropped open as Luke collapsed to the floor and sobbed, his chest heaving as he buried his head in his hands.

  What the ever-loving fuck was this?

  Nick’s expression, he was pretty sure, matched his own. Not sure how they went from a face-off to Luke crying in a heap on the floor and at a complete loss on what to do, Brody was surprised when Nick went to retrieve tissues from the box on the desk. He walked back and crouched down to shove them into Luke’s hand.

  “Listen, I’m sorry for shouting, but you gotta stop being a dick. It’s over. Brody didn’t mean to hurt you, but we love each other, and there isn’t anything in the world that’s going to change that. I’m sorry you got hurt in all this, but enough now.” He tapped at Luke’s hand, then rose and shrugged at Brody as if embarrassed by what he’d done.

  All Brody could think was how fucking amazing it was that Nick was his.

  “I’m sorry,” Luke sobbed, sniffing, “I just… well, I don’t know what came over me.” He shrugged, his head lifting in Brody’s direction. Red-rimmed, puffy eyes begged for Brody to understand.

  Unsure how to respond, he gave a stilted nod as the tension he’d held on to since finding the dead animal eased, releasing the knots in his gut. Taking hold of Nick, he tucked him into his side, needing to know he was okay. Holding on to his chin, he gazed into his eyes, and what he saw released the final bit of anxiety he held. Lowering his mouth, he gave Nick a soft kiss.

  On an exhale, he swept a glance at Luke. There was a forlorn expression on his face as he remained sitting on the carpet, looking lost. “Nick’s right, I never meant to hurt you, Luke. You just didn’t see that you and I didn’t fit together, and there was nothing either of us could do to change it. Sometimes fate steps in and shows you that what you thought was right for you really isn’t.”

  He gave Nick another quick kiss before he released him to go and help Luke off the floor. Once Luke was on his feet, he gave him a little shake. “You need to take your head out of your self-important backside and reconsider how you behave towards people.” On that, he patted his arm before releasing him and walking back to Nick.

  With a shake of his head, he took hold of Nick, catching his half smile. “Come on, troublemaker. I hope I won’t be seeing you again, Luke, and I say that in the nicest possible way.”

  The nod Luke gave him allowed Brody to walk back to the door, and with one final warning glance over his shoulder, he walked out of the room with Nick.

  Only once they were back outside the hotel did Brody grab Nick’s face and ravish his mouth. “You know you make me as hot as fuck when you go all butch on me,” he said between heated kisses.

  “Then stop kissing me so we can go back to the hotel room, and I can show you exactly how butch I am,” Nick gasped against his mouth.

  “Yes, that.” Brody pulled back, lifting his hand to hail one of the waiting taxis sitting at the curb. His heart kicked up at the blistering smile Nick gave him as he jumped into the taxi.

  Fuck, it was so good to have that smile right where it belonged: on squirt’s lips. The cheeky imp was back with a vengeance, and he pounced the minute Brody shut the door behind him.

  “Let’s go and make some trouble together.” With that, Brody gave the hotel address to the driver while he still was able to hold a conversation. Nick’s wandering hands were all it took for him to want to claim him.

  The sense they’d somehow crossed over an invisible bridge by addressing the final issue with Luke left Brody praying that they’d paid their dues to the universe.

  A voice Brody had hoped never to hear again spoke and derailed any hope he held that things were resolved for any of them.

  “The Fa
tes, unfortunately, don’t work in that way.”

  The End

  Read on for an excerpt from Broken Veils, the series that is the secondary story running through the Manx Cat Guardian Series. This new series will go back to the beginning of Christina’s story and will eventually answer all the questions raised by this series.

  Untitled: Broken Veils Book One

  Darkness emanated from Akheron, his eyes narrowing on Kharon, who seemed to shrink in on himself. A measure of black pleasure curled inside Akheron at seeing the daemon cower before him. Easing himself back on his ornate throne, he beckoned Kharon towards him.

  A pure, unfettered evil awakened in the depths of Akheron and ripped at the essence of the dead souls scattered about the recesses of the cave, feeding his power. Those inhabiting the dwelling froze in the throes of horror, bodies’ gruesomely twisted.

  Eyes alight on Kharon, Akheron dwelled on the one role that Kharon had. Bring him the souls of the dead. His river was where the souls of the dead were ferried to hell if they were lucky. Many were not, and they found their souls languishing at Akheron’s mercy. His essence fed on their misery. Their bodies might have died, but the souls within did not. When they inhabited his world, he could use them to feed his growing hunger for more power. A power he grew thirsty for with time.

  The god of his domain, his power lay in those who were transported into his world by Kharon. The problem was, for aeons, Kharon had failed him. The decreasing number of souls transported into his world lessened considerably and, with it, his power.

  The dark caverns he’d created were a place no life could inhabit. Close to the Lake of Pain, a lake filled with deadly intent that ebbed and flowed like the sea, suffused with the scent of death, pain, and suffering. However, with the reduction in souls, the lake was losing its draw.

  With the king of the Otherworld intent on creating protection for his kingdom, he was now offering dead souls the opportunity to protect his lands against their enemies, luring them away from Akheron. Having shielded his world from view with fairy magic, Akheron was unable to reclaim those who rightfully belonged to him.

  Rage bubbled under the surface of his earthly body. The pulse of his anger fulminated and wanted to find a target. His eyes darkened to black pools of venom while they wandered around the deep recesses of the cavern. His gaze alighted on the deathly figures held in his thrall, and his anger grew.

  Akheron inhaled the stench of fear rolling of Kharon as it mixed with something else: defiance. The fire torches flickered and cast an eerie glow over Kharon’s face as he moved silently towards him. Kharon fathomless eyes dared Akheron to release the rage burning inside him.

  Deadly intent pinned Kharon in place right before Akheron’s hands rose, along with the malevolent darkness. He wielded his power, and souls moaned and withered as the malevolence attacked them.

  He held Kharon prisoner. His wail of anguish and shaking limbs brought a wicked smile to Akheron’s beautiful face and twisted it to reveal the real maliciousness beneath. The mask of pure evil, few saw to begin with, exposed itself.

  The tendrils of his power were released and enslaved those who were unfortunate enough to dare to look him in the eye. The ugliness of the skeletal features were nothing like the face gifted to him by the gods who created him. A face so beautiful it hid the real manifestation and purpose of his creation.

  He was the god of the Underworld River and Lake of Pain. He thrived on the suffering of the souls that broke the heavenly rules laid down by the gods. Those who thought they were beyond reproach found the one who was: Akheron. Souls were raped repeatedly for all they were worth and used to feed his ever-growing lust for the dark power.

  The very same power he now used to hold Kharon immobile. Akheron circled the daemon, whose role it was to ferry the souls of the dead over the Lake of Pain to him. His flowing robes dusted the cavern floor as he swept across the rocky ground, his soulless black eyes narrowing on their target.

  His head tilted as he used his will to keep Kharon’s gaze fixed on him. “Are you telling me that you failed to bring me the dead souls I requested?” The air around them dropped several degrees as the deadly intent in the question hit Kharon. His body jerked in response, but no words left his lips.

  Heady from the growing stench of fear, Akheron bared his teeth. His foul breath blew over Kharon’s face, which drained of colour as his body fought against the invisible bonds that held him. Akheron growled in satisfaction at reducing a daemon, feared by many, to a quivering mess as he mentally tightened his hold.

  He flicked his hand towards the nameless female slaves sitting on the dirty floor around the room, awaiting his instruction, not bothering to glance their way when he heard their whimpers of distress. “Bring me my bracelets,” he instructed without looking to see which of his slaves obeyed him.

  The bracelets were forged from the river of the dead and bore the weight of eternal death and all its misery. They held the final moments of agonising pain of every soul that had passed over the river. When touching flesh, they would snake around the limb and tighten until they latched onto the soul, slowly infusing it with every drop of pain and suffering held within.

  Quiet weeping was followed by the sound of bare feet moving across the cavern floor. That no one dared to question his demand was enough to keep his tempered rage in check.

  Those who had questioned him in the past had suffered a waking death. Slowly, he would rip their souls from their bodies slice by slice and glory in their agony. Slaves who had witnessed what he was capable of never forgot how dire his wrath could be when released.

  His foot tapped as he continued to keep Kharon’s gaze fixed on him, enjoying the daemon’s suffering. “Do you know what my bracelets do?” Not expecting an answer, he continued, “They take defiant daemons who displease me and—”

  “Please be merciful, Akheron. I was too late. The souls were offered passage into the Otherworld by King Manannán,” Kharon choked out on a rush, cutting Akheron off midsentence.

  He blinked slowly when Kharon stopped speaking, and his inky eyelashes did little to conceal the malicious gleam within. “Do you dare to interrupt me?”

  Sweat slid down Kharon’s pale features and soaked his cloak. Akheron stepped into Kharon while he made a show of weaving a thread of pure hatred into a cage of misery that would lock the daemon inside and torture his mind. The cry of anguish silenced when Akheron threw the pen around Kharon, blocking out all sounds the daemon made.

  Not waiting to see the daemon’s reaction, he spun around and knocked the slave who had stupidly stood behind him to the ground. The bracelets she held clattered to the ground. The sobs around him increased as the waves of his anger bathed the cavern and made the walls quake. The rage whipped through Akheron as he struggled to contain the surging tide inside him.

  The Lake of Pain called to him as he strode out of the cavern and out into the dim greyness of his world. The scent of decay and death increased with his proximity to the lake. Why did the king want to thwart him so? Why did he insist on taking what belongs to him?

  The grey above adjoined the black of the lake as Akheron stopped at the edge of the water. The inhabitable, rocky terrain was formidable and meant to hinder any soul from inadvertently seeking passage into this place.

  His hands fisted, and his sharp talons dug into his flesh. Akheron felt no pain; blood dripped into the dark swirling water beneath and made it roil. His intention was clear. He would not be thwarted. If the king chose to steal from him, he would take from the king. Use the one thing the king treasured most. The thing that hid from sight but sat there for all to see if you chose to look.

  Fates, their wiles were legend. They enslaved those stupid enough to think the body they inhabited could be lured. The child of destiny was as infallible as any other. Had he not studied their weakness of the flesh? Their desire to feel and be what they could not be, different, earthly.

  The fury built, and the earth he stood on rocked viole
ntly as his arms rose, his dark robes flapping around him. His mind cast a spell as the words poured past his lips. “Hyggja o/tti eiga fyst hluti. Li/fdagar eDHa andla/t hyggja burDHr,” he chanted times three. “Give heed to fear, have the power to desire fate. Life and death give heed to birth.”

  Time appeared to stand still as Akheron got caught in the eye of the storm his dark magic created. He heard the voices of the gods dimly inside his mind, but they held no sway over the wrath consuming him. It felt like a ravenous beast rushing to tear anything in its path limb from limb, leaving nothing but bloody carcasses in its wake. Evil personified, it fed on his dark soul, leaving nothing but nasty intent to destroy a world the likes none had seen. He willed it forth. The darkness crept and slithered with foul determination until all there was, was the blackness that no light could fight past.

  Could the light beat the dark?

  Up and Coming New Releases

  The App: Daddy Kink (coming December 2019)

  Why was finding a Daddy to meet his needs so hard? Could a kink app be the answer to what was missing from his life?

  Scott Rainsford is a gentle soul, friendly and hard working. He loves his job as a waiter in the critically acclaimed restaurant La Trattoria Di Amore. On the outside his life looks perfect, but Scott is lonely and craves to meet the one person that will give him what he needs.

  Can The App be the answer?

  The App offers Scott the freedom to search for the Daddy he has always dreamed of.

  It also gives Scott the choice to choose the one man he’d never have expected to want to be his Daddy.

  But nothing is simple, a first time Daddy, a broken lift, a phobia and past mistakes make for the perfect stormy start. Can two men, who seem worlds apart, go from enemies to lovers, and meet in the middle?