Kallysten's Blog, page 8

Excerpt from No Crayons On The Frontline

Dear soldier,

Only two words in, and here I am, confronting a feeling of oddness as it occurs to me I don’t know to whom I should address this letter. I have written few letters in my life – and by letter, I mean actual letters, the kind where one puts ink and thoughts onto paper to share with another person – and every one of those actual letters went to someone I knew beforehand, someone whose face I could picture, someone who I was sure would be able to hear my voice when they read my words, who would know when I was trying to be humorous or understand references to a shared past. And so, I find it difficult to write to you today without knowing your name or age or even whether you like long missives or will already be bored by the time you reach this point.

All I know about you, really, is that you are serving on the front line of the demon invasion. You protect me, along with everyone inside our city, and for this, for the danger you choose to face night after night, for the wounds you may have suffered, for the grief you may have experienced upon losing comrades, you have my sincere and heartfelt thanks.

It seems far from enough; I can only give you words on a page and not even a handshake to remind you that those you fight for are living beings made of flesh and bones rather than the abstract concept you might have in mind. That is, unless you fight for someone specific, for members of your family or friends, and it’s their image you keep in mind every time you raise your weapon on the battlefield. Either way, please believe that there is at least one person who, tonight, will send their best wishes toward the battlefield in the hope that you will remain safe.

Warm regards,

Dr. W. S. Sherridan

*

Dear Dr. Sherridan,

First, let me thank you your letter. While we (soldiers on the front line) do not fight every single night as civilians often believe, it certainly feels like we do. Even when there is no attack underway, we’re always aware that every moment of calm is only a brief respite in the storm. And while we don’t need or expect thanks, it’s great to know we are appreciated for what we do by those we try so hard to keep safe. Myself as well as all the soldiers in my unit who were lucky enough to be handed a letter were quite happy to receive them.

Receiving letters was even more special because they came in the day after the end of a long, bloody fight against demons. I’m not sure how much people in the city are told about the siege, I’m not even sure whether this letter will be read and possibly censored before it reaches you, but let’s just say that this was one of the most brutal demon attacks that I’ve seen. I escaped my turn outside the walls unscathed, but many others were less lucky. It was a sad day in the camp, but the letters and the reminder they gave us that we’re not fighting in vain made it easier to continue. As you pointed out in your letter, we’re fighting for very real people, made of flesh and blood like we are. People who sometimes pick up a pen to write a few words for us.

But I have the same strange feeling you had when you first wrote to me: I don’t know who I am writing to either. Your words and handwriting alone tell me that your letter is different from those my men were sharing with each other, in which misspellings, cute questions and unsteady handwriting give away that the writers are children. I knew you were an adult right away, and your signature only confirmed it. But that same signature told me very little. No first name, two initials, a last name… and those two small letters, a badge of pride to all those who earn them. Here I am, writing a letter to a doctor, wondering why he (she?) participated in a letters program involving elementary school children. That is a puzzle, and while I have a couple of theories, I would be pleased if you would reply and tell me.

Until then, I will continue making up lists of what those initials might mean. My first thought for W was William, for reasons that will become clear when you read my signature. Am I anywhere close?

Regards from the front line,

Lieutenant Angel Williams

*

Dear Lieutenant Williams,

I was pleasantly surprised to receive your reply. I penned my first letter while my students were writing their own missives; they encouraged me to, if I am completely honest. I have run a ‘letters to soldiers’ program ever since I started teaching at Lincoln Elementary two years ago, but it had never occurred to me before that I, too, might express my gratitude. In retrospect, and given the tone of your reply, it seems like an unforgivable lapse.

We received the box of replies from the fighting camp while we were in class, and it was obvious right away that the students wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until they’d read their letters. For most of them, it was the first letter they’d ever received. So I interrupted the lesson, gave each child their envelope, and that was when I realized there was one for me, too. It had been a while since I’d received a handwritten letter. I’ll admit I found myself quite as excited as my students.

Some volunteers read your fellow soldiers’ replies to the rest of the class, and then, if you’ll forgive the term, they ambushed me, demanding that I read my letter as well. I hope you won’t be cross when I tell you I had to yield and share your words with them. They all send their love to the one they decided to call their ‘guardian Angel.’ You’ve probably been called that often enough to be sick of the pun, but they’re children, and they mean it without a trace of irony.

Yes, I am indeed proud to call myself a doctor, perhaps inordinately so, I now realize. In my defense, it took quite a bit of hard work to earn that right, and it is the only accomplishment to which I have any claim. In the troubled times we live in, studying and working toward a degree can sometimes feel a little foolish, and more than once I questioned my path and wished I could have been more useful to my fellow men by joining in the ranks of fighters, like you did. Unfortunately, health issues would have disqualified me without a doubt had I tried to enlist. It sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it? And a feeble one at that. It is nonetheless the truth. My body is at fault here, not my mind or courage.

As for my name, no, it is not William, though I’d have much preferred it if it was, as I hold no affection for my first name. I usually go by my middle name, Samuel, and if you cared to write to me again, please do feel free to call me so.

Yours in friendship,

Wynn Samuel Sherridan

*

Dear Lieutenant Williams,

A month has passed since I last wrote to you. As I didn’t receive an answer, I just wanted to send this short note of apology. I feel my last letter might have taken a wrong turn. In my defense, I wrote it while my students were at recess and finished it more quickly than I should have, without rereading it since I wanted it to be sent along with my students’ replies.

In that letter, I dared to talk about courage, and I now realize it was quite a misstep on my part. It’s one thing to claim I would have fought demons if I could have. Actually doing so, I imagine, is different. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to someone hiding behind the walls of the city and a line of soldiers wax lyrical about imagined heroic acts.

Again, you have my apologies, and my continued wishes for your well-being and safety.

Samuel Sherridan

*

Dear Samuel,

If an apology is needed, then it should come from me.

I was not offended or put off by your letter, not at all. You tell me you would have liked to serve if you’d been able to, and I can only praise you for it, and be glad you understand how important it is for us to be standing here on the front line. Too often, people think they’re not suited for the task because they’re not strong, or skilled, or because they don’t feel they’re ‘bloodthirsty’ enough to combat demons. Or they think it’s too dangerous, and they don’t want to risk their lives.

I should know. My own family tried to discourage me from joining the ranks of the Defending Forces. They repeatedly told me I was too young, too soft, too precious to go waste my life on the battlefield. Even now that I’ve fought for five years, advanced in rank and gone through almost a thousand battles with only scratches and bruises, they still try to convince me I should quit and find a ‘normal’ job. Have a ‘normal’ life. Find a spouse, have children. And never worry about worse things than using my ration tickets or allotment of electricity wisely. As if living under siege and never knowing whether demons might push into the city and how I’d protect my family if they did was normal.

As you can imagine, those family discussions turn more often than not into full-blown arguments, and sometimes even shouting matches. Just thinking about it now makes my blood boil again.

That’s the reason I didn’t write to you any sooner. I received your last letter shortly before going on a week-long leave. I meant to write back to you upon my return, but my family complaining about my life choices left a bad taste in my mouth, and little desire to talk to insiders, as we soldiers sometimes call those we protect. And that is something my family just doesn’t want to understand. We protect them, along with everyone else inside the city. If I hadn’t joined the DF, if every other soldier who has a mother, a father, grandparents, or siblings who worry for them hadn’t joined, then who would be left to keep all of us safe?

They don’t understand this, but I feel that you do. So again, thank you for your letters. It’s odd how words from a stranger can mean so much more than words from my own family.

There was a question I wanted to ask you, if I can be nosy. You’re a doctor, but you teach elementary students. How come? With the city under siege, I thought anyone with medical knowledge would be working in the city’s hospitals. Unless it is your health troubles that keep you from it?

Please say hello to your students from me, and let them know that this Angel, along with every soldier on the front line, do their very best to keep them safe, with or without the support of their families.

And please, do call me Angel. Only my men call me Lieutenant, and only when they get themselves in trouble.

Angel

*

Dear Angel,

Thank you for trusting me enough to share something as personal as the difficulties you encounter with your family. I am sorry that you have to go through such arguments, especially since they sound unending. For you to have to defend your choices repeatedly when you’re supposed to be on leave and renewing your spirit seems to add insult to injury. I am more glad than ever that my students convinced me to pick up a pen, almost two months ago now, and write to you. If I may bring a little bit of peace to your mind, then surely every word and letter is worth being written.

Your letter made me wonder what my parents would have thought of me joining the Defense Forces, had the choice been open to me. I like to think they’d have been proud of me, although I was too young when they passed to have well-defined memories of their characters, and I don’t feel like I ever got to really know them. Still, I can’t help but think that your family, whatever their arguments, must be proud, too, deep down, even if they won’t admit it to you, maybe for fear of encouraging you.

To answer your question, I must again offer an apology. I should have made it clear from the start that, while I am a doctor, I am not a medical doctor. My field is a much less useful one in the fight, which is why, as I mentioned before, I questioned devoting so much energy to my education. I earned my doctorate studying and comparing the ancient myths and fiction and non-fiction written since the beginning of the demon invasion. It’s still not the preferred path to becoming an elementary-school teacher, and I envisioned myself teaching university students rather than children who are still learning to read and write. These days, however, there aren’t quite enough students in universities interested in comparative literature, while there are always openings to teach young learners. That’s how I ended up at Lincoln Elementary.

If I am completely honest, I thought I would hate it. I have never had much patience, and I occasionally suffer from a very short temper when my health is poor. To my very great surprise, I do not, in fact, hate it. Not by a long shot. Patience isn’t such a difficult thing to find with children who are, as a whole, eager to learn, and my temper, when it rises, tends to be soothed by their worry for my well-being. Also, being around children has shown me just how jaded we adults have become. Even when we avoid talking about demons, the reality of the siege and unceasing attacks colors everything we do, everything we plan. Children still dream of being pirates or explorers or astronauts, and if I can only help them dream a little longer before they have to grow up, then my life has meaning. One day, the attacks will stop and the demons will leave. If by then, as a species, we have lost the ability to dream, then we’ll have lost the war, too.

I just reread that last paragraph. I hope I don’t sound too pompous. It is just something I strongly believe in, and it’s one of our regular classroom activities for the children to write or draw about their dreams and hopes for the future. And now that I think about it, it’s been too long since they talked about their dreams. I think in the morning I’ll change my lesson plans and set a bit of time aside.

On that note, let me offer you, as always, my warmest regards.

Samuel

The post Excerpt from No Crayons On The Frontline appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.

Audiobook – Walking The Edge

Vampires don’t grow old; it doesn’t stop Leo from dreading his birthday and the yearly disappointments it brings back.

This year, though, with two lovers in his life, the day might just take a better turn. Lisa knows him well enough to guess what he doesn’t even realize he needs, while Brett is ready to give – and ask for – the greatest gifts.

All Leo needs to do is hang on and ride the wave when it comes.

LENGTH – 1 hour 21 minutes

NARRATOR – Todd Waites

NOTE – This book is also available as ebook. The rest of the series will be recorded as well.

AUDIOBOOK

>> Buy soon from Amazon

>> Buy soon from Audible.com [If you’re not a member yet, you can get this free with a 30-day free trial]

>> Buy from iTunes

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Coming soon – Bloodchild (QuickSilver Codex #3)

Five days. That’s how long Vivien has to prepare for the first of three magic duels against Rhuinn, the usurper king of Foh’Ran. She challenged him to the duels not because she wants the throne, although it is her birthright, but because she blames him for the death of Brad – one of her bodyguards, and the man she loves.

Except that Brad is alive again… or the next best thing. His brother Aedan, rather than losing him, broke all customs and made him a vampire like himself, a decision that might cost him dearly when his own Maker confronts him.

Vivien’s joy over not losing Brad, however, might have to be hampered when Aedan’s disapproval of their relationship takes a new turn. Brad’s new vampire instincts are strong, and his hunger for blood is hard – if not impossible – to control. The two brothers swore an oath to protect Vivien, but one of them might be the greatest threat to her safety… at least for the next five days…

LENGTH – 66.000 words

RELEASE EXPECTED March 2015

PAIRING – M/F

RATING – Sexy

NOTE

Part 3 of the QuickSilver Codex series, which is best read in order.

PREORDER – $2.99 instead of regular $3.99 price once the book is released

>> Preorder from Barnes & Noble

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Audiobook – Over The Edge

One heated night brings together two men and a woman, one of them human and the other two vampires, but when morning comes there are more questions than answers.

Brett, the human owner of the new club “On The Edge”, hires Leo as a bartender, but unexpected security issues threaten their burgeoning trust. For his part, Leo is caught in the same pattern that once caused him to lose Lisa, and he struggles to adapt and allow his new sleeping arrangements to last as long as possible. And Lisa, who brought her two lovers to the same bed, now realizes that she also invited back in her life a past she thought forgotten.

Will they be able to make it work, or will this ménage collapse after a few nights of lust?

LENGTH – 4 hours 32 minutes

NARRATOR – Todd Waites

NOTE – This book is also available as ebook. The rest of the series will be recorded as well.

AUDIOBOOK

>> Buy from Amazon

>> Buy from Audible.com [If you’re not a member yet, you can get this free with a 30-day free trial]

>> Buy from iTunes

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His Sire’s New Rules

The first night Dom Alan shared with Tyler and Jeremy was all about punishments for the two submissives. It was also the first time in years that Alan, a Master vampire, had played with two men, each one so different from the other: human and vampire, novice sub in the world of BDSM and experienced switch, one who enjoys pain and one who’d rather avoid it…

The second night quickly became a first step toward establishing new boundaries between the three of them. And while Tyler can’t stay the night, Alan has just the toy to keep his new pet’s mind on what happened so far… and what will happen when they meet next.

In a world where otherworldly demons attack every night, there’s a time for games and a time to fight, and as it turns out the three men work just as well together on the battlefield as they do in the bedroom. At work or at play, though, it all comes down to the same thing for the three of them: following the rules, and trusting the men standing—or kneeling—next to each of them.

LENGTH – 23.000 words

EXCERPT

PAIRING – M/M ~ M/M/M

RATING – Sizzling

EBOOK

>> Buy from the author

>> Buy from Amazon Kindle

>> Buy from Amazon UK – CA – AU – DE – FR – ES – IT – JP – BR – MX – IN

>> Buy from All Romance Ebooks

>> Buy from Barnes & Noble

>> Buy from iBooks

>> Buy from Kobo

>> Buy from Smashwords

The post His Sire’s New Rules appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.

NEW – His Sire’s New Rules

The first night Dom Alan shared with Tyler and Jeremy was all about punishments for the two submissives. It was also the first time in years that Alan, a Master vampire, had played with two men, each one so different from the other: human and vampire, novice sub in the world of BDSM and experienced switch, one who enjoys pain and one who’d rather avoid it…

The second night quickly became a first step toward establishing new boundaries between the three of them. And while Tyler can’t stay the night, Alan has just the toy to keep his new pet’s mind on what happened so far… and what will happen when they meet next.

In a world where otherworldly demons attack every night, there’s a time for games and a time to fight, and as it turns out the three men work just as well together on the battlefield as they do in the bedroom. At work or at play, though, it all comes down to the same thing for the three of them: following the rules, and trusting the men standing—or kneeling—next to each of them.

LENGTH – 23.000 words

EXCERPT

PAIRING – M/M ~ M/M/M

RATING – Sizzling

EBOOK

>> Buy from the author

>> Buy from Amazon Kindle

>> Buy from Amazon UK – CA – AU – DE – FR – ES – IT – JP – BR – MX – IN

>> Buy from All Romance Ebooks

>> Buy from Barnes & Noble

>> Buy from iBooks

>> Buy from Kobo

>> Buy from Smashwords

The post NEW – His Sire’s New Rules appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.

Excerpt from His Sire’s New Rules

Many things had changed in Tyler’s life in the past couple of days, things he’d never imagined before he first entered Alan and Jeremy’s apartment.

He was still wrapping his mind around some of those changes, like the fact that he’d just fucked Jeremy. He’d never done that before, not on the giving end of the equation, and to have done it not with anyone but with Jeremy… He’d had Jeremy’s cock inside him many times, but he’d been sure the reverse would never be true. He’d made his peace with that. Now, he could only wonder whether he’d be allowed to do it again—and whether Jeremy would be permitted to come with him then.

Other things were a lot easier to get used to, like the guest bathroom and its shower, which dispensed apparently infinite amounts of hot water. Considering the house where Tyler lived with his squadron had water restrictions and a rotation schedule for showers, standing under the hot spray of water without worrying it might soon turn ice-cold was a luxury he quite enjoyed.

A luxury compounded when, after Tyler had let the water hit the back of his neck for mere moments, Jeremy joined him. As surprises went, it was a very pleasant one.

Welcoming Jeremy with a smile and open arms, Tyler started to ask, “Did Alan—” but he couldn’t finish his question, not with Jeremy’s mouth pressing against his own, claiming it and commanding his entire attention.

Before they’d ever acted a BDSM scene as Dom and sub, before Tyler had even managed to articulate what it was he wanted exactly—not that Jeremy hadn’t known before that but he hadn’t done anything until Tyler asked for it—they’d kissed every time they met, concealed in a corner of their usual bar, Jeremy pressing Tyler against the wall and making him lightheaded and weak in the knees with nothing more than kisses, nothing more than his tongue sliding sensuously along Tyler’s lips then inside his mouth, sometimes caressing his palate and tongue in slow, gentle movements, sometimes deliberately fucking his mouth with his tongue like nothing else but them existed until Tyler was moaning and begging for more.

They were back to those end-of-the-world kisses today, Jeremy’s hands cradling Tyler’s face as he pushed him against the cold tiles behind him. Tyler’s eyes fluttered closed, and he couldn’t think of anything but Jeremy’s mouth; couldn’t even think of touching Jeremy, his body bare and warm from the water cascading over them both.

When Jeremy’s right hand slipped down to curl around Tyler’s reawakening cock, Tyler gasped, ending the kiss. Breathing hard, he blinked several times until his vision cleared and he could see Jeremy’s dark, hungry gaze.

“I’ve got to—” Tyler started to protest, but Jeremy shushed him with a cluck of his tongue, and Tyler fell silent.

It was always too easy to respond to Jeremy’s orders, even when Tyler knew he’d get in trouble if he was late for patrol. How much time did he even have before he had to report for duty? What if—

Jeremy clucked his tongue again, this time adding a warning in the form of a tight squeeze to Tyler’s balls.

“Stop,” he demanded in a low voice. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop. You’ll be out of here in time. Trust me.”

Tyler took in a deep breath. As he released it, he let go of his questions and worries and slipped into a familiar state of mind, even more easily achieved for the fact that he’d spent the evening on his knees. Trust Jeremy. He could do that. He already did.

“There you go,” Jeremy said quietly.

He gave two light tugs to Tyler’s cock before letting go and taking hold of his hips with both hands. He maneuvered Tyler around until he faced the wall, his hands flat on the tiles, the shower head directly above him. A thrill ran through Tyler as he realized Jeremy was about to fuck him when Tyler was still slick from Alan coming inside him a little while earlier.

A thought tried to intrude on his excitement: did they have permission to do this? Was Jeremy finally permitted to achieve an orgasm after being denied for so long?

He pushed the questions away. It wasn’t his place to wonder about that. Jeremy was in charge, and Tyler obeyed. It was that simple. And he liked that things were that simple.

A gentle hand sliding down his back ended with a sharp slap to his ass. Tyler hummed as a flash of heat coursed through him and dropped his head.

“Spread your legs,” Jeremy demanded.

Tyler obeyed before Jeremy had even finished voicing the command and was rewarded with another slap for his alacrity. Heaving a contented sigh at the jolt of sensations, he pushed his ass out a little further into Jeremy’s petting hand.

“Greedy,” Jeremy accused good-naturedly. “You had Alan’s cock up your ass not half an hour ago and you already want more?”

“I want whatever you want to give me,” Tyler said. “I always do.”

Jeremy let out a brief chuckle. “I know you do. Have this, then.”

On his last words, he slipped a finger down the crack of Tyler’s ass, teasing his opening with a fingertip.

“How much do you enjoy Alan’s cock?” he asked.

With the distraction of that elusive finger, brushing against him without quite entering him, Tyler needed a few seconds to make sense of the question.

“A lot?” he finally said, unable to keep the hesitation from his voice. “He has a nice dick. And so do you.”

Without thinking, he bucked back against Jeremy’s hand, trying—and failing—to draw his finger inside him. Jeremy’s dark laugh sent a shiver down his spine.

“Nice, huh? That’s one word for it. But the look on your face while he was fucking you?” Two fingers finally pressed in. “Oh, that was a lot more than nice, let me tell you. You always wear what you feel on your face, like an open book. So very pretty.”

Tyler would have protested at the word; he wasn’t pretty; handsome, maybe, but definitely not pretty. It proved difficult to form a coherent sentence, however, when Jeremy’s fingers retreated, and were soon replaced by—

He jerked in surprise at the new unexpected touch, soft yet unyielding, wet but a different kind of wet from the water cascading over them. He tried to turn around to see, to check that he wasn’t imagining things, that it was indeed Jeremy’s tongue flicking over his opening, teasing it the same way his finger had a moment ago. That soft touch retreated, however, and Jeremy clucked his tongue.

“Face the wall,” he demanded in a quiet but strong voice. “Don’t move or I’ll stop.”

Jerkily, Tyler shifted back into position, his entire body tensing as he waited for Jeremy’s tongue to return. He screwed his eyes tightly shut and tried to picture what was happening. Was Jeremy kneeling down behind him? Or was he bending over? Tyler simply couldn’t figure it out, not when Jeremy’s tongue was back on him and short-circuiting his brain. His world was narrowing down to sensations, to the firm hands holding his ass cheeks apart and the wet pressure against his opening.

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Excerpt from Anterograde

“You are a complete asshole,” Eli said as he stormed into Calden’s house. “Do you even realize that? Is that something you can comprehend?”

It took him no time to find Calden, sprawled on the sofa in his boxers and dressing gown, an arm curled over his face like a swooning regency heroine, his dark hair untamed and wild.

“I don’t know if I comprehend,” Calden said, his voice muffled by his elbow, “but I’ve been told often enough. What did I do this time?”

“What did—”

Eli bit back a curse and stood by the sofa. His glaring was completely lost on Calden, who still hid behind his arm.

“You know damn well what you did!” he exploded. “You’ve been hounding me to meet at the café for lunch for a week instead of just eating in the hospital cafeteria. I took time off especially for that—”

Got in an argument with my husband about it when I told him, but that part he only said in his mind.

“—I waited for you for an hour before ordering, with Lola giving me the stink eye the entire time because she’s still convinced I dumped you and you can’t be bothered to tell her we’ve never been more than friends. And the entire time you’re just here, lounging in your robe like…”

An awful suspicion rose inside Eli. Taking hold of Calden’s wrist, he pushed the sleeve up, exposing the inside of his arm. Nothing there, he was relieved to see.

“Let go,” Calden protested, trying to tug his arm free, but Eli wasn’t done.

Leaning in close, he sniffed Calden’s breath. No alcohol. Unless…

“Hungover?” he asked, too annoyed to even make it a proper question.

Calden gave another weak tug on his arm, and Eli finally let go, watching him cover his face again.

“I wish,” Calden muttered. “It’d mean there was at least something pleasant before this. To the risk of being boring, I’m sober in every sense of the word. I just have the most horrible headache.”

Eli was trying to hold on to his annoyance—if Calden wasn’t feeling well, he could at least have called him!—but Calden surprised him by peeking from under his arm and mumbling, “Sorry about lunch. If I’d realized it was so late, I’d have told you I wasn’t up for it.”

His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils contracted. Headache severe enough that not only he wasn’t whining but he was also apologizing. What else? Was that a cold sore at the corner of his mouth?

“Do you have a fever?” Eli asked, slipping into doctor mode. He reached past Calden’s arm to press a hand to his forehead. “Pain anywhere else? Did you take anything for it?”

“Fever, yes. No other pain. Out of aspirin.”

He shifted his head into Eli’s hand, maximizing contact. He definitely felt too warm, and not just because Eli’s hand was cool. And of course he was out. Medical supplies, even something as basic as aspirin, were hard to come by. The city was, after all, officially under siege.

“Right,” Eli said wryly, pulling his hand free. “I’m going to downgrade you from complete asshole to big baby who can’t take care of a little headache. And you owe me lunch when you’re better.”

Calden mumbled something, but Eli, on his way to the kitchen, did not understand.

“What did you say?” he called out as he ran a towel under cold water before wringing out the excess.

“Said it’s a big headache,” Calden said, slurring the words a little.

“Of course it is. Drop your arm. There you go. Does that feel nice?”

His forehead and eyes covered by the cool towel, Calden hummed something that might have been a thank you.

“I’ve got aspirin at my apartment,” Eli said, squeezing Calden’s shoulder once. “I won’t be long, all right?”

Calden made a vaguely affirmative noise.

As Eli left the house and climbed into his car, a little voice that sounded awfully like Bryce’s whispered in his ear.

He’s taking advantage of you. Like he always does.

But Calden hadn’t asked for anything, Eli replied to the little voice. In fact, he hadn’t asked Eli for his usual favors since Bryce had confronted him about taking advantage of Eli three weeks ago. Calden had stormed off then, and he hadn’t said a word to Eli at the hospital for days, until he’d asked to meet over lunch. He’d said he had something to tell Eli.

Eli knew better than to expect an apology. In all the years they’d known each other, Calden couldn’t possibly have uttered the word ‘sorry’ more than a couple of times, despite having cause far more often than that. Still, Eli had vaguely hoped for an acknowledgment from Calden that, yes, he’d been overly needy in the past months, both at the hospital and out of it. Something was up with him, but Eli couldn’t figure out what it was.

Needy was Eli’s word. Bryce called Calden’s behavior obnoxious. He couldn’t understand why Eli tolerated it from Calden when he’d have called anyone else on it. Eli had tried to explain that he’d been Calden’s best friend before they started working together at the hospital, and that he was used to his antics. Calden couldn’t be bothered to keep to his schedule, and he always tried to trade patients he considered uninteresting for more challenging cases, but the truth of it all was that he was the best surgeon the town had. Eli knew that firsthand and owed him, if not his life, at least his right arm. Whether Calden was needy and obnoxious or not, they needed him. Bryce had glared daggers at Eli when he’d said that.

As familiar as Calden’s behavior was, Bryce’s response had taken Eli by surprise. Others complained about Calden, doctors and nurses alike, but after seeing what he could do with a scalpel or needle, they grew more tolerant. Bryce, on the other hand, simply couldn’t stand him, and he didn’t even work with them directly, instead driving one of the ambulances that ran back and forth from the hospital to the walls that had been built to protect the city every time the demons attacked.

Calden had told Eli to ask Bryce about his ex-husband, that it’d explain why he was so suspicious. Eli had managed to hide from Calden that he hadn’t known Bryce had been married before. He had yet to ask Bryce if it was true. It probably was; Calden had a knack for discovering things about people.

His apartment wasn’t far. In ten minutes, Eli was there and back. Coming back into Calden’s house, Eli hung his jacket and stepped into the kitchen. He popped a pill from the bottle, filled a glass with cold water, and took both to Calden, who apparently hadn’t moved since Eli had left.

“Hey. I’m back. Sit up for a bit.”

He had to shake Calden’s shoulder before his body jerked, the towel sliding off his face. He blinked repeatedly, frowning up at Eli.

“Eli?” he said drowsily. “What are you doing here?”

“Got you aspirin like I said. Sit up.”

Calden did sit up, and he took the glass and pill Eli was handing him, but he sounded—and looked—downright confused. “Like you said? What? When?”

Eli frowned. “When I was here earlier. Don’t you remember? I called you an asshole and a big baby?”

Calden was beyond confused now and well into mystified territory. “You called me what?” he swallowed the pill, chasing it down with the glass of water. “God, but my—”

His body froze, his mouth becoming slack, the empty glass sliding from his grasp and onto the cushion next to him.

“Calden?”

Eli’s eyes widened. He had to fight his instinct to shake Calden by the shoulders and grabbed his wrist instead. He took his pulse while leaning in close enough to watch his pupils; they weren’t dilated to the same degree, one a small dot in an ocean, the other wide enough to swallow most of the blue.

“Calden! Can you hear me?”

“—head hurts,” Calden said, blinking once, then again when he realized how close Eli was. “What… Eli?”

“You just had an absence seizure,” Eli said, releasing his wrist. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Don’t even think about arguing with me.”

The fact that Calden did not try to argue only added to Eli’s worry. Calden hated being in a hospital as a patient and would do or say anything to avoid that situation. His passivity now was disturbing, and he barely said a word when Eli went to find some clothes up in his bedroom and helped him into them.

When Calden had another absence seizure in the car, Eli drove a little faster, beginning to regret not having called an ambulance. The city wasn’t under attack at the moment, which meant that the streets were busy, small electric cars like Eli’s weaving around each other in near silence and making the ride to the hospital that much longer. There were talks of restricting traffic to preserve resources now that the demon attacks were becoming more frequent and making the supply roads unsafe.

Finally parking his car by the emergency entrance, Eli told Calden to wait in the car while he went to get a wheelchair. The fact that Calden actually listened to him didn’t bode well. As he wheeled Calden inside, Eli mentally reviewed the staff schedule. Being in charge of it, he knew who was on duty at the moment.

Doctor Bonneville was their neurologist, but she only had a few years of experience. Doctor Samford, an emergency doctor and surgeon, had been practicing longer than anyone else and still had the steadiest hands in the hospital, except for Calden. There was also the fact that she was one of the few people Calden didn’t try to antagonize on sight.

The nurse at the admission desk tried to insist they fill in the obligatory paperwork, but Eli gave her an icy look and found a room for Calden himself.

Within minutes, Samford was coming down to the ER from her office upstairs. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Calden was her patient, but she recovered quickly and listened to Eli’s description of Calden’s symptoms.

“He was complaining about a headache yesterday,” she said thoughtfully as she took Calden’s vitals. “I thought he was trying to get out of a routine appendectomy. You know how he is. But maybe it was more than that.”

Calden’s eyes were open, and he appeared to be listening, but he didn’t react in the slightest to Samford’s quiet words; Eli’s worry climbed higher.

“What do you think?” Eli asked, although he knew it was much too early for her to have a definite diagnosis.

Samford refused to say what she had in mind. Instead, with a gentle smile, she took Eli’s good arm and guided him out of the room, relegating him to the waiting room. She’d have let a colleague stay if he hadn’t known their patient, but he was there as Calden’s friend, so she kicked him out with a reminder that he’d need family permission to get access to records. Still, she couldn’t hide from him what kind of tests she was performing. MRI. CT scan. Lumbar puncture. She suspected encephalitis, Eli realized with a pang.

She was only following protocol—Eli knew that and he would have done the same in her place—but he still felt absolutely no remorse in giving a call to the one person who could cut through the red tape with a wave of her hand.

“This is Eli Wright. Calden’s in the hospital,” he said when Lana picked up the call. He hadn’t called Calden’s mother in a couple of years, not since his overdose, but he’d kept her number. It could always be useful to have a direct line to the person basically in charge of running the city. “I’m guessing encephalitis, but I’m not his doctor and don’t technically have a right to see his records because I’m not family.” He spit the word as though it tasted foul. After all this time, he and Calden were as good as family.

“Encephalitis,” she said after a brief silence. “That’s… serious, isn’t it?”

“It can be when it’s not treated quickly enough. I’m not sure how long he sat on his sofa with that headache. He might still be there if I hadn’t come by.”

He didn’t add the last of it, the part that made the acid in his stomach roil and burn his throat. He might have been in the hospital faster if I hadn’t been too annoyed to think like a proper doctor.

“Are you coming in?” he said instead.

“I can’t right now. I’m in the middle of a strategy meeting. But I’ll send someone to sort things out.”

Seventeen minutes later, a soldier breezed in, clad in his full parade uniform. Eli heard him demand to talk to the person in charge of Calden Hayes. When Samford asked him how she could help, he demanded that she accompany him to Eli’s direct supervisor. Eli had long since given up on being surprised at the way Lana and her people operated.

Whatever the soldier had to say didn’t take long. Five minutes later, he was marching back through the same corridor again. He paused briefly by Eli and recited, “You’re in charge of medical decisions regarding Doctor Hayes until General Hayes is able to come here herself. That should be tomorrow morning, unless the demon attack anticipated for tonight extends beyond sunrise. She wants you to call and leave a message with her secretary if anything changes. Not her private line, but her secretary.”

He handed Eli a card with a number and left without another word.

Moments later, Samford returned and gave directions for Calden to be transferred to a different room. He was asleep, or more probably sedated, and much too pale against the starched sheets. When Eli followed, no one stopped him, and when he asked for an update, he actually received answers. Samford was still waiting for final results to come back, although Calden had been given a first dose of medication. Waiting too long could prove critical. It was as Eli had supposed, but it felt different to know rather than guess.

He sat in Calden’s room, rewinding the afternoon in his mind, playing the ‘what if’ game. It wouldn’t help anything, of course, but he had to wonder. What if he hadn’t waited so long at the café? What if he had simply left when it had become clear Calden wouldn’t show up, rather than actually having lunch by himself in spite of Lola’s pointed glares every time she passed by his table? What if he hadn’t let his annoyance blind him and had realized sooner that this might be more serious than a simple headache?

Logically, he knew he’d acted as fast as he could in the circumstances. But this wasn’t a logical situation, this wasn’t a patient he could look at neutrally. This was Calden.

When his phone rang, he felt a stab of guilt that he’d forgotten to turn it off, despite the policy he was in charge of enforcing. At first he thought it had to be Lana, but when he saw it was Bryce, he slipped out to the waiting room to take the call.

“Where are you?” Bryce asked as soon as he picked up. “Our appointment is in ten minutes.”

Shit.

Covering his face with one hand, Eli braced himself for the fight he knew was coming.

“Love, I’m sorry, I won’t be able to make it. I’m at the hospital.” He paused, and his voice was a little quieter when he said, “Calden is ill.”

Absolute silence answered him.

“We’re still waiting for the tests to come back,” he said, “but we’re pretty sure it’s encephalitis.”

“We?” Bryce said coolly. “Who’s we? Surely you’re not his doctor.”

“No, but—”

“Then let his doctors do their job. I’m already there. I’ll tell her you’ll only be a little late for the appointment.”

Eli couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less at that moment than go talk about the state of his seven-month-old marriage to a soft-spoken therapist at least ten years younger than he was and who, he suspected, had never been in a long-term relationship herself.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice firming up as he clenched his fist at his side. “We’ll have to reschedule.”

“Eli—”

“He could die, okay? Or he could get brain damage.” He knew which of these two outcomes Calden would think was worse.

“You watched him die once,” Bryce snapped. “Wasn’t that enough?”

Eli sucked in a breath and resolutely kept his eyes open. He didn’t need to watch Calden flatline on a hospital bed behind his eyelids yet again, not when Calden was in a hospital bed right now.

“I’m sorry,” Bryce said after a few seconds and even sounded like he meant it. “But honestly, why does it have to be you? It’s always you, Eli. That’s well beyond the call of duty of a friend or hospital coordinator.”

Eli knew he’d always gone above and beyond for Calden. It had never bothered him. Not even after Bryce had started pointing it out.

“His mother’s busy, and there’s no one else. I’ll give you a call in the morning. Love you.”

“Love you,” Bryce repeated. The words felt empty, recited by rote. He ended the call.

Eli turned off the phone completely before returning to Calden’s room. He was surprised to find him awake, not so surprised that he was drowsy and disorientated.

“Eli. I wanna go home. I don’t like hospitals.”

“I know,” Eli said with a slight smile, helping the nurse to get him to lie down again. “We’ll get you home as soon as you’re better, I promise. But for now you need to stay here. All right?”

“But what if there’s a demon attack?” Calden’s eyes burned, feverish. “What if I’m needed in surgery?”

“Well, you’re already in the hospital, aren’t you?” Eli played along in a soothing voice, patting his hand. “If need be, we’ll get you to the OR in no time. Until then…”

But Calden’s eyes were closed again. Eli sat down and got ready for what promised to be a long night.

 

Continued in Anterograde

The post Excerpt from Anterograde appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.

Anterograde – Coming on June 30th

When Calden wakes up – every time he wakes up – the last thing he can recall is a debilitating headache that even his medical background failed to identify as anything more serious than a regular headache. He also remembers his decision to ignore the fact that his best friend Eli is married and to […]

The post Anterograde – Coming on June 30th appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.

Anterograde

When Calden wakes up – every time he wakes up – the last thing he can recall is a debilitating headache that even his medical background failed to identify as anything more serious than a regular headache. He also remembers his decision to ignore the fact that his best friend Eli is married and to […]

The post Anterograde appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.