PRINT
What lurks in the dark isn’t always a monster. Sometimes it’s your deepest desire.
Christos has been called by his captain to give aid in the final showdown with Dracul. Never comfortable living with humans and hiding his true nature, he misses the solitude of his mountain home. It’s boring waiting for Dracul to strike—that is, until he meets a sick, homeless boy with soulful eyes and a need to be helped.
Having tried to live in the nine-to-five world with no skills, Mateo has hit the streets once again, turning tricks to stay warm and fed. While checking out a new soup kitchen, he collapses from his growing illness—right into the arms of a sexy alpha male who also reminds him of someone who brutalized him in the past.
Christos doesn’t want the responsibility for the care of a human, no matter how alluring he is. And, with Dracul’s unknown plans taking everyone’s attention, there is no time for any distraction. But he can’t stay away, and the trust this vulnerable human shows him is humbling. It also chips away at his resolve to stay alone.
The final battle is gearing up, however, and Christos and Mateo are at ground zero. No matter how Christos tries to keep his boy safe, the fate of the world rests in both their hands.
Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, mass shootings and murder, corpse descriptions and non-consensual sex.
General Release Date: 12th May 2020
Mateo hunched against the cold, his backpack feeling as if it were filled with rocks. He’d been walking around too long without enough food, and the dull ache that had started in his chest since he’d caught a cold was beginning to make breathing difficult. Every step was harder than the last. He must look like an old man—and a feeble, homeless one at that. Of course, that last part was true. Since bolting from the ‘fresh start’ the vice cop had given him, there was nowhere he could reliably bed down, no chance to stay out of the chill from the approaching winter weather to shake off the remnants of his illness. And meals were not a regular thing these days. Hunger magnified every crappy feeling he had.
He really needed to find that new place everyone was talking about. Word was they served plenty of hot food—and without the preaching part that even the nice Father Ted had laid on him as the price for help. He didn’t need saving, but he did need a trick. Eating was only one of his needs. Money in his pocket would give him the other things that made life almost bearable, including a little weed to smooth out his nerves. The shit was legal now, although… Okay, so he wasn’t quite over the age limit and the fucking vice cop had confiscated his fake ID. Still, he could pass for older, if only the licensed dispensaries weren’t more uptight about carding a guy than most bars were.
The tickle in the back of his throat morphed into an undeniable cough. He nearly doubled over from the hacking and his chest hurt terribly. Something warm to drink would help that. Surely they’d have coffee—or maybe tea. That’s supposed to be good for lung problems, isn’t it? He just had to reach his destination. This part of town wasn’t his usual hang, so it was hard to judge how much farther he had to go. Squinting past the wind, he looked at the street sign to make sure he’d taken the correct turn. It was supposed to be about a block away now.
He hitched his pack higher on his shoulder before picking up speed. His hope of reaching his destination soon overtook his lack of energy. The thin jacket he wore didn’t do much to keep out the cold. Someone had said this new place had clothes as well as food. He hoped he could cadge a new coat, maybe a scarf. With a little bit of help, he’d shake this coughing problem and be better situated to survive the coming months. Winter in Boston was a major bitch.
Another turn had him catching sight of someone who nearly caused his heart to stop. He put on the brakes and struggled for breath. His sudden stress sent off another coughing fit, this time lasting longer and hurting a whole lot more. As he bent over, he kept his sight on the man down the street.
It can’t be him! That fucker is gone. The cop said so…
The man who’d caught his attention didn’t look his way. He merely leaned against the brick wall of a building, putting his big, booted foot flush against it while digging something out of his pocket. A few seconds later, he was puffing on a smoke. His stance was relaxed as he stared across the street. With his hair pulled back in a ponytail, his face was easy to see. That profile was what allowed Mateo’s heart to start beating again as he fought to catch his breath.
Not him. Not the Creature. There was a superficial similarity in the height and breadth of the man, as well as the jet-black hair and pale skin. But this wasn’t the asshole who’d fucked him over six ways to Sunday, forcing him to rent his body beyond endurance while keeping the profit. For a few awful months, he’d been a slave and living a life that had almost made him long for the abusive home he’d left years before. Almost. It had brought him as close to offing himself as anything ever had. And as scared as he’d been when the cop had pulled him in and made him snitch, it had been a relief, too.
It was too bad he’d also learned that the minimum wage, four-oh-fucking-one-k lifestyle was also not his jam. It was practically a different kind of slavery as far as he was concerned—or simply a way to stay alive without giving someone a chance to live a meaningful life. Sucking random dick might not be the best job in the world, but it was better, as far as he was concerned, than what he’d left. At least now he was working for himself, deciding who he did, when and how and keeping all of the money. And it paid better when he broke it down by hours versus effort. With the right technique, he could make a guy come in minutes. It was easy money. Mateo had become very skilled in certain areas. He considered it a vocation. Plus, when he was willing to also let a guy have at his ass, it could mean a nice place to sleep for the night. He liked sex with dudes, too. No ‘gay for pay’ in his case. He loved dick—the bigger the better.
This guy right here would almost certainly fit that category if he didn’t bring back so many shitty memories. The similarities were too awful to ignore, even though this dude was totally hot. As he took a long drag off the ciggy, the man’s profile exposed plenty to stare at. Mateo could admire the full lips and strong jaw. The nose couldn’t have been any straighter and the cheekbones could cut glass. And yet, there was nothing effeminate about him. Every inch of him screamed alpha male, which was both scary and appealing. If not for his experience with the Creature, Mateo would have been on the guy at full-flirt speed. As it was, he had to swallow any trepidation, along with the phlegm clogging his throat, and take advantage of the opportunity to do a quick trick before finding the new soup kitchen.
Squaring his shoulders, he forced his feet to get moving and put a little swing into his hips. He was scrawny these days, but some guys were into that because it made him look younger than he was. Besides, his mouth worked fine so long as he could suppress his urge to cough, and that was all he was going to offer. A quick glance to his left told him there was a convenient alley to do business in. There wasn’t much of anyone around anyway—a function of the location and the weather. He would pull out all the stops get the guy off quickly, too, so he wasn’t going to have to spend much time on his knees on the cold ground.
He hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the man swiveled his head in his direction. Mateo could have sworn his old Nikes made no sound while he walked down the cracked sidewalk, yet the man’s reaction made him think he’d been beating a drum or something. Although there was too much distance between them to be sure, Mateo’s heart skipped another beat with the certainty that the eyes boring into him were that same violet color as the Creature’s. His steps faltered, even as he came within a few feet of the guy. And yup, he’d been right. That much was clear when the man’s gaze didn’t waver.
It's not him. It’s not him. It’s not him.
Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.
She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don't understand why they can't read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.
There are no reviews for this title yet, be the first to write one.
£11.95 Buy Now
Add to Wishlist
Read a Sample
Send as a Gift
Facebook
Twitter
Newsletter