Jake C. Wallace's Blog, page 15

Wednesday Briefs #22 Diventando: Becomming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014
Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and is posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the links at the end to visit other flashers. 
If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.
 
Copyright JC Wallace 2014
Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and is posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers. 
If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.
 
Owen squeezed his eyes tight, summoning the power to fortify the barrier between him and the Incubus. His body heated as the remaining medicine in his veins was absorbed with no supply to replenish it. The SUV rocked and threw Owen about in his seat belt as Turk tried to lose the vehicles chasing them. Owen thought he could still hear the bullets hitting their vehicle but mostly he had turned his focus inward. If he willed the demon to stay dormant, maybe he could save the men trapped in then SUV with a monster. Why couldn’t he control the demon? It was his body, his mind. That had to mean something, right? But as the pressure grew in his skull, he became sickly aware that nothing would halt its progress—ever.
“Turk, stop! Let me out,” Owen pleaded, turning and tightly grabbed Turk’s arm. “Just let them have me before everyone gets killed!”
Turk growled low but didn’t pull his attention away from the road. The lights of the oncoming traffic illuminated his face, his brows furrowed deep, his jaw clenched tight, his lips in a thin line.
“Let us all out, Daniel! They’re just going to kill you when they catch us. Throw us out with the demon and you can go hide,” Malcolm yelled. “Stop the—”
A loud smack and Malcolm was silent. Owen wondered if Wayne had knocked him out, however, looking back, Owen found Wayne grinning, his hand firmly over the man’s mouth.
“Thought he’d never shut up.”
Beside Malcolm, Wes had pushed himself up against the door, his fear no less than it had been at the hospital.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry about what happened back there. It wasn’t me though. You’re cute and all but I don’t go around...You know...” How did one apologize for a demon taking over his or her body and forcing itself on someone? Anything would sound lame.
Wes frowned as if he were truly contemplating what Owen had said. Owen hated to do it but he was going to use Wes again. ...
“Things are about to get a lot worse though.” Owen held up the busted IV bag. Wes’ eyes went wide again and he started to claw at the door. “No! No!”
“Calm down!” Wayne roared and grabbed hold of Wes to subdue him, but the man was wild.
“Daniel! Stop the fucking car!” Malcolm screamed as mayhem broke out in the back of the SUV.
Owen tugged on Turk’s arm. “Stop, Turk. Please. Don’t let me hurt anyone else. Baby?”
The endearment forced Turk to glance at Owen and the harsh realization of his words were plastered all over Turk’s face.
He shook his head, adamantly. “We’re almost there. Hold on.” He yanked the wheel hard and Owen slammed painfully against the door. Wes managed to get his door open, but Wayne was able to overpower him again. Another yank of the wheel and Turk’s gaze shot up to the rear view mirror. “I don’t see them.”
Owen wanted to rejoice however, heat had begun to suffused his skin. A low, rumble rolled and filled his ears as his muscles in his limbs seized.
“No,” he whispered, unheard over the cacophony of shouts from the back seat.
Yes. I am never far and each time I emerge, I become stronger. Soon nothing will keep me at bay. And the first thing I will do is kill the Hunter.
“No! Turk, he’s coming and I can’t stop him!” The rise and fall of Owen’s chest was the only movement of his body. Owen willed his muscles to remain under his control, fought the heated phantom limbs the demon was pushing out, prayed for some supernatural strength to aid his battle.
Human, you cannot stop me, though I am impressed with your fight. Sheer will alone is not enough to stop me. I have lived a millennium and will live another millennium after I’ve drained your tired, useless body. Give up and I promise you will go peacefully when your time comes.
Owen barked out a laugh at the ludicrous lies of the demon. Before he could respond, the SUV spun off the road and into a field, bouncing over ruts and logs. Around a bend of trees, a small house came into view and Turk slammed on the brakes as the vehicle slid to a stop. Turk threw the vehicle into park and jumped out. He had Owen’s door open and out of his seat belt before Owen could protest.
“In the house. Now!” Turk yelled to Wayne.
“Coming,” Wayne said behind them. Owen wondered how he was going to manage with Wes still freaking out.
Turk raced to the front door. The muscles in Owen’s arms, so recently flaccid, woke up to the control of the demon. Kicking the door open, Turk ran down a short hallway. The demon was encroaching on Owen, occupying space that should have only been for one. Owen was being crowded out again, despite his fight to remain.
“C-comin’ now....” he managed to say before he lost his voice as well.
“Hold on,” Turk begged, squeezing his hand.
Owen watched in horror as his arms and legs moved without his input.
Pushing through another door, Turk entered a room with a bed. Without warning, Owen’s arms shot up and his hands wrapped tight around Turk’s neck.
“Hunter!”
Leave him alone! Stop!
Turk stumbled and they fell onto the bed; however, the demon still managed to keep his hands on Turk’s neck. Turk clawed at the hands choking him. The demon effortlessly flipped Turk onto his back and straddled his thighs.
Turk’s eyes bulged and his skin colored red as he struggled in vain. Owen didn’t want to watch the demon kill Turk, but he had no choice but to watch...and feel. Oh, fuck he could feel his hands trying to crush Turk’s windpipe.
Where the hell was Wayne? Help him! Shit, Turk, fight back. Come on! Don’t give up!
“Fighting is useless,” the demon spat, his giddy tone sickening. “Although, I had hoped that taking out the hunter would prove more of a challenge. Perhaps I should drain you first. Mm-hmm, the power of a hunter is quite the delicacy. At least your father was.”
Turk’s father?
The words had a positive effect on Turk as he found the strength to buck up and partially shift the Incubus from his legs. Suddenly, Owen’s vision shifted to the ceiling as his body fell back, and Turk was on top of him because the demon still had his neck.
Owen heard Wayne shout and then Malcolm joined in as hands grabbed him by the wrist. They were able to wrench the hands from around Turk’s neck. Owen wanted to make sure he was all right but he was chucked onto the bed. Within a minute, Wayne and Malcolm had Owen restrained to the bed as the demon roared and continued to fight for freedom.
Despite his struggle, he was without the power to overcome three men. No, for that he needed to fuck someone and steal the energy. Not happening now.
The demon turned to Turk, who was currently holding down Owen’s arm with one hand and rubbing his neck with the other. A purple bruise was already forming. He watched as Malcolm worked a needle back into Owen’s arm. Owen let out a half-mad chuckle only he could hear. Of course, Turk would have planned for everything. Of course, he would take care of Owen...until the time came to ‘take care of him.’
“I will kill you hunter. I will suck every ounce of energy and leave you a dead and withered husk. Just as I did to your father and his father before him. You will pay with your life!”
Bright, hot anger twisted Turk’s face, and the fist that smashed into Owen stunned and silenced the demon. Owen was unaffected and continued to gaze at Turk through half-closed lids. All of this fuss for Owen when it would have been so much simpler to end his life and destroy the Incubus who had murdered Turk’s father, and his grandfather.
Turk ran a hand gently over Owen’s forehead. Owen could only ascertain one reason Turk had gone to the trouble of rescuing him and had refused to end his life. That reason was too painful and farfetched for even Owen to entertain. Even so, if the demon was allowed to come forth again, Owen knew that nothing they did would push him back again. Next time was for keeps.
 

## 

 Check out the other flashers this week at http://wedbriefsfic.com/  or click on their names below:
Rob ColtonJon Keys
Grace Duncan
Lily Sawyer
Shelly Schulz
MA Church
Chris T. Kat
Sarah Hayes
Cia Nordwell
Renee Stevens
Julie Lynn Hayes

Publications

 Waiting for Snow Originally published in  Love Lane Books' Christmas Anthology Christmas Delights, this story is now available through Smashwords. Dain is at the end of his proverbial rope. He lost his job, his boyfriend, and his church after one horrifying accident a few months ago. Now it's Christmas Eve, and he's reminded of each of those loses in a heart-breaking confrontation with his abusive father. As Dain is driving aimlessly, he meets Jake, the local sheriff. Despite the circumstances of their meeting, Jake is very interested in Dain, but can Dain let go of the past and learn to believe in love again? Available at Smashwords 
 

JC Wallace Books Presents....Men Kissing for Valentine's Day!!!

TWO exciting events today!
 Be My Prism Valentine Party - check out the fun on Facebook!and The Power of Love Blog Tour!....
http://powerofgaylove.blogspot.com/p/the-main-event-page.html
At the end of this blog check out the other bloggers participating in this blog hop!


Yes, it's VALENTINES DAY!! 

As part of The Power of Love Blog Hop, I have created a tribute to KISSING!
 Not just any old kiss...Men Kissing. So why men kissing, you may ask? Well, I write and love gay romance and I love kissing and I love men!
For me kissing is more intimate than any other sexual act between two people. The emotions shared, the love, can be better than even intercourse. I love kissing scenes in stories. I eat them up actually. Give me a hot kissing scene between two guys, where they connect on an emotional level, can't get enough of one another, hands roaming and bodies touching and hips grinding and...
Phew! Is it getting hot in here???? Someone open a window!!

Wait! Before we get to the men kissing you can enter for a chance to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card!

**At the top of the right hand column enter your email
to receive my blog updates 
(if you already receive updates leave a comment to enter)**

Remember to check your email and confirm your entry and that's it! Everyone who signs up between February 14th and February 16th (11:59 p.m. CST) will be entered in the drawing today AND the monthly drawing at the end of the month.



Well, enough dallying....On to the men kissing!! Enjoy and Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

Wednesday Briefs #21 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014 Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers.  If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.   Owen’s eyes widened as Turk took down Malcolm in three moves. The raw power and skill made him weak in the knees. If Owen hadn’t been scared shitless—and about to collapse onto the floor—he would have strolled over and planted a scorching kiss on those lips. Then he would reward Turk for his efforts. Unfortunately, the thing inside of Owen got off on sucking the power out of humans through his dick. The realization that he’d never have sex again was almost as disappointing as knowing that he was going to have to die to kill the Incubus. Why was he bothering even to escape? So he didn’t die in this shithole of a hospital, that was why. “What’s going on?” Drew asked, still on speakerphone. “You guys need to get going!” Wayne lifted the phone. “Hold on, Drew. We hit a snag.” He must have covered the speaker because the rest of Drew’s protests were muffled. Malcolm lay on his stomach in the floor while Turk pushed a knee into his back. Turk held both of Malcolm’s tattooed wrists in one of his large hands. Malcolm let out a few choice swear words, struggling to no avail. He wasn’t going anywhere. Turk raised his head and tossed a worried glance at Owen. Despite the tenuous situation, Owen ginned wide, eliciting a wink and grin back from Turk. In one swift motion, Turk snatched Malcolm from the floor. “Fuck, Daniel,” Malcolm snarled as Turk manhandled him. “Shut the fuck up, shithead,” Turk growled back. “What the hell are you doing? That thing is dangerous and you’re, what? Taking it out for a stroll? What hell is wrong with you? You’re the hunter! Your entire reason for being is to hunt demons and send their asses back to hell!” A guttural roar came from Turk as he shoved Malcolm into the wall. The man’s head thudded against the concrete and Turk pressed hard into his back. “I believe I told you to shut your mouth.” Your entire reason for being is to hunt demons... Just what was a demon hunter doing freeing a demon, anyway? This was all wrong. Owen should be tied down and... Sad, brown eyes locked with Owen’s and the intensity of the stare sent a jolt down his spine. No one had ever affected him with a single look like Turk did. Turk was risking his life for Owen. Refusing to leave now would only get them all killed. This was Owen’s last chance to tell Turk how he felt. Once they were safe—or even just had the illusion of safety—he’d make sure Turk knew what he meant to Owen, despite the lies, and the demon, and the betrayal. “Turk, while I’m all for roughing up the natives, we need to haul ass,” Wayne reminded him, holding up the phone and removing his thumb from the speaker. “Move it guys!” Drew shouted from the phone. At that moment, an ear-piercing alarm sounded, startling Owen and tripling his heart rate.   “Fuck! Wayne, grab the door. Now!” Turk yelled. Wayne darted up the stairs and yanked open the steel door before the bolt slid out to lock it. Shit, that was close. Turk scowled and pulled out a set of handcuffs from some hidden place on his body. He cuffed Malcolm’s hands behind his back. Turk pushed Malcolm up the three steps where he stumbled into Wayne. Wayne snagged him and held him in place. “What are you doing with me?” For the first time since they’d stumbled across the two men, Malcolm was letting his fear showing. “You’re coming with us,” Turk said, and started to move towards Owen, who held his breath, anxious to touch Turk again. Malcolm immediately started to struggle again. “Like hell I am!”  “Like you have a choice. Besides, I hadn’t planned on it, but we could use someone with medical expertise.” Did Turk expect Malcolm to help take care of Owen? Had he lost the last of his marbles? “I would never help that thing! Wes! Do something!” Malcolm screamed over the alarm however, Wes wasn’t hearing him. One glance at Wes confirmed that he was still cowering in the corner, his fear-laden eyes unwavering from Owen. His fear might have been amusing if the reason for it hadn’t been so gross. As it was, Owen couldn’t even look Wes in the eye without guilt twisting his gut. “You know what? You’re right. How about some insurance?” Turk stalked over and grabbed Wes. The man came without protest, as if the mere presence of Owen had drained him of his ability to react.  Turk stepped up to Owen and he stroked Owen’s cheek gently. If Owen had been a cat, he would have purred. Without a word, Turk scooped Owen into his arms and Owen fumbled to keep hold of the IV bag. They herded Wes in front of them as they followed Wayne and Malcolm out into the cold night air. Owen shivered and Turk pulled him closer to his broad chest. Owen soaked in every ounce of warmth he could get from the man. “Almost there,” Turk whispered as they approached a large, grey SUV parked next to the building. Owen was definitely disappointed that it wasn’t the Mustang. Wayne opened the back door and stuffed Malcolm—who hadn’t stop shouting—inside, followed by Wes, and then himself. Turk gently placed Owen into the front seat and buckled his seat belt. With a brush of his lips over Owen’s forehead Turk stepped back. A metal ping caused him to spin away from Owen. “Shit someone’s shooting at us!” Wayne yelled. Without thought, Owen reached out and yanked Turk back, causing him to fall on top of Owen. “Get in the car!” Owen yelled, trying with his weakened arms to pull Turk further in. More pings and then the passenger side window shattered. Owen screamed as glass showered him and Turk as Turk struggled to get into the SUV. A cold wetness spilled over Owen’s lap and when Turk had finally managed to get over into the driver’s seat, Owen gasped and stared down into the deflated remnants of the IV bag. “No,” he whispered. He looked up at Turk and knew he had to get away from them. Owen tried to unhook his seatbelt, but an iron grip on his wrist stopped his progress. “No! Let go!” Panic wrapped tight around Owen and his breath came out in shallow pants. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now. Owen wasn’t sure how Turk managed it while holding his wrist, but the SUV roared to life and they were moving. Owen’s door was still open and bullets continued to riddle the side of the SUV. As Turk took the corner and skidded out of the parking lot, the door slammed closed. However, the missing window let in a wave of cold air that crashed over Owen’s skin. He shuddered, and then his muscles started to shake, and his teeth chattered, but he could have cared less about the icy air. The demon was coming back. # #  Check out the other flashers this week at http://wedbriefsfic.com/http://wedbriefsfic.com/  

Wednesday Briefs #20 Diventando Becoming

 Copyright 2014 JC Wallace
Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers. 
If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.
 
Turk’s lips were soft and deliciously warm, and a shudder bulleted through Owen, curling his toes. When the lips against his remained rigid, though, Owen felt his dread return. He wondered, again, if he’d  just imagined Turk’s gentle touches and whispered promises. He was certain that Turk didn’t see Owen; he saw a monster, evil incarnate, something to be killed, destroyed. Even if Turk didn’t kill Owen, that blatant truth would.
Owen tried to pull away, shame raising hot patches on his cheeks, when fingertips suddenly caressed his neck. Time ceased as Turk’s lips slowly gained momentum, and then parted, allowing Owen’s tongue to thrust into his mouth. A groan vibrated the lips against Owen’s and he tried to lift up for more contact with Turk’s body, however, he was only able to lift his shoulders a few inches from the bed. Owen growled as he struggled. Turk’s arms snaked under Owen’s shoulders and pulled him to his chest. The kiss rendered Owen even more boneless than the drugs coursing through him. Shit. He couldn’t do this. Even though he didn’t feel the demon stirring, the danger was still there.
Owen slowly ended the kiss and then laid his cheek on Turk’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and whispered, “You came.” With those words, Turk’s arms banded tighter and Owen had never felt anything so wonderful and safe.
Owen opened his eyes to see Wayne hovering nearby, shifting nervously, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. The man was all kinds of tortured over what had happened to Owen, and that made Owen feel like crap. He reached a hand out, motioning Wayne to him.
Wayne stepped forward and forced a smirk. “You look like shit, cuz.” The tremor in his voice and the sorrow in his gaze, belied his humor. He’d suffered ever since Owen disappeared—the bags under his eyes and his pale skin were evidence of that.
Owen grasped Wayne’s shirt with a weak fist, and tugged him closer. Wayne bent down and rested his forehead against Owen’s, releasing a shaky breath. The man was as close as a brother to Owen.
“Fuck, Owen...” He closed his eyes.
“I’m okay,” Owen lied. “It’s going to be okay.”
Turk let out a choked sound, somewhere between a sob and a cough. Yeah, nothing was okay.
Wayne pecked Owen on the forehead and stepped back, his face a stoic mask. Turk nuzzled Owen’s neck and it was all Owen could do to stop the whimper caught in his throat.
“Hate to break up the love fest but we’re on a timeline here.” The vehemence in Wayne’s voice caught Owen by surprise.
With one last squeeze, Turk gently settled Owen back onto the mattress. Turk ducked his head but not quickly enough. Owen saw the tears rimming his eyes. And in a sadistic moment, those tears thrilled Owen. Turk gave a shit.
Turk turned away and Owen allowed him a moment to collect himself, which gave him time to doubt their rescue.
“I can’t leave here,” Owen said, pushing his voice out into the room. Wayne immediately tensed but this had to be said. “I have a demon inside of me and this...” Owen raised his arm with the IV attached. “This is the only thing keeping him quiet.”
Turk turned back, his face devoid of the emotions that previously wrought havoc on his face. “Like I said, we’ve got a plan.”
With that Turk bent and lifted a black duffle bag and dropped it onto the bed. Opening the bag, he pulled out black sweats, a T-shirt, fleece jacket, and socks and shoes. Owen recognized his clothes and had never been so grateful to have them.
“Let’s get you changed.”
Owen allowed Turk to help take off his gown. Owen’s pasty skin blushed a pale pink from his nudity and his partially hard cock. Turk focused hard on the task of dressing Owen, although Owen noticed his eyes wandered surreptitiously several times to over Owen’s body.
Wayne pulled out his texting someone. When he was done, he said, “We are a go in five minutes.”
Owen frowned as Turk finished tying his sneakers. He was helpless even to dress himself. And he was supposed to just walk out of there? What about the guards? The locked doors?
“Just how are we going to get out of here?” The entire operation seemed impossible.
Turk lowered the side rail and helped Owen swing his legs over the side of the bed.
“We’re walking out,” Turk said matter-of-factly.
Owen raised his brows and looked at Wayne who wasn’t looking back. He nodded and glared at Turk with the intensity of a man wanting beat the shit out of someone. Damn, he was totally pissed at Turk. Owen couldn’t blame him. Turk was a close friend who had no doubt lied to Wayne. Repeatedly.
“I can’t walk,” Owen reminded them.
Turk bent down and encouraged Owen to wrap his arms around his neck. With an arm supporting Owen’s back and another under his knees, Turk lifted Owen effortlessly from the bed, cradling him against his chest.
“I’m gonna carry you. Now reach up and unhook the IV bag and let’s get out of here.”
Owen stared at Turk for a moment then snapped out of his doubts and unhooked the bag.
Turning to Wayne, Turk gave him a nod. Wayne tapped at his phone screen and then Owen heard a dial tone through the speakerphone. “You ready Wayne?” a deep voice asked.
“We got him and we’re ready to move out when you are, buddy,” Wayne replied.
“Drew?” Owen asked.
Owen could hear Drew tapping on his keyboard. “Hey, Owen. Good to hear your voice. I’ll have you out of there in a minute...By the way, where’s my fucking line code?”
Owen smiled. “Up my ass, Crawford. Care to go in and get it?”
“Fuck, no,” Drew replied, and then there was a pause. “Okay, I’ve downloaded a continuous loop on the cameras covering the planned route. You probably have eight minutes before the system recognizes my meddling and sends out the alerts. Doors are now...unlocked. Get your asses moving. Keep me on the line and I’ll monitor the system.”
“Got it,” Wayne said and pulled open the door to the room. After peering around the hall, he signaled for them to move. In Turk’s arms, Owen struggled with the need to be carried like a weakling and feeling safer than he’d ever felt. Through Turk’s black jacket the heat penetrated Owen’s body, warming the bitter internal chill. The subdued light in the hall deepened the brown of Turk’s skin. With his head on Turk’s shoulder Owen could see the tight clench of his jaw and his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly as if he were swallowing down fear. Owen couldn’t believe that Turk feared anything.
“Where is everyone?” Owen asked only loud enough for Turk to hear.
“It’s around three a.m. Night crew is on. They’re monitoring in the control room.”
Three a.m. He’d gone so long without knowing the time of day had become so foreign to Owen. Then he asked the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “How long have I been here?”
Wayne looked back at Turk upon hearing those words. The scowl, the anger flaring in his eyes, told Owen that Wayne was only playing nice until they were out of danger.
Turk licked at his lips. “Fifteen days.”
Owen flinched at the number. Fifteen days.Hell, it hadn’t seemed that long, and somehow seemed longer all at once. His eyes met Wayne’s and his cousin’s apology to Owen was conveyed without words. None of this was Wayne’s fault, yet he was taking blame.
“We can talk later. We gotta go,” Turk said. His low voice rumbled in his chest and filled Owen’s body, soothing his frazzled nerves.
Wayne opened the door before him and Turk told Wayne to go right and then left and then another left and Owen wondered how Turk remembered the way since each hallway was nondescript.
“Two minutes,” Owen heard Drew’s disembodied voice announce.
“Just two more doors,” Turk said, tightening his grip on Owen.
Wayne pushed open the door and they were in a short hallway with cement stairs to the left, which ended at a white steel door. Owen tensed with the realization they were actually going to get out. As they neared the stairs, Wayne froze in front of them, his eyes trained to the right. Looking over, Owen gasped as he spied two men in an embrace, sucking face, hands roaming in desperation.
They both startled hearing Owen, and pulled apart. Malcom and Wes stared back at them, their lips red from the intensity of their kisses. Owen’s grip tightened around Turk’s neck but Turk practically dropped Owen who had to try and stand, grappling for the wall. Malcolm rushed toward a panel with several buttons on it next to the door and smacked his hand against a red button. An ear piercing alarm filled the air.
“Fuck!” Turk yelled and went after Malcolm, yanking him back. Malcom turned and rushed Turk with fists flying. Wes, who stared with terror-filled eyes at Owen, crouched in the corner while Wayne hovered over him. Owen clutched the IV bag to his chest watching his hope for freedom being crushed.
Check out the other flashers this week at httbp://wedbriefsfic.com/ or click on the flashers below:

Jon Keys
A.R. Von
Grace Duncan
Sarah Hayes
MA Church
Chris T. Kat
Tali Spencer
Victoria Adams
Cia Nordwell
Nephylim
Rob Colton
Elyzabeth VaLey 
Lily Velden
Raine O’Tierney
Michael Mandrake
Andrew Q. Gordon
Julie Lynn Hayes

Welcome Raine O'Tierney to the blog and her first published story: Under the Table and Into His Heart

A note from JC : First off, I want to say congrats to one of my best friends, Raine, on the release of her first published story! Raine is passionate about writing and pours her heart and soul into her stories. But she doesn't stop there. She wants other authors to feel their stories are awesome and she is the best cheerleader I've ever had. She has taught me so much about helping others and giving encouragement. For that, I am forever in her debt. So help in me in welcoming her to the blog on her release day! Take it away, Raine...                                                                     ~~*~~*~~*~~ The Best Day of My Life
Warning:this post contains more exclamation points than anyone should consume in a lifetime! (It exceeds the Marketing standard at least.) You’ll have to forgive me because…*~*~*Today is the best day of my life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*~*~*
(TWENTY exclamation points—one for each year spent dreaming!)
While I am prone to wild and outlandish exaggeration about EVERYTHING IN THE GALAXY (see what I did there?): NOT TODAY. *Today* is my release day. It’s my very first release day ever, actually. Twenty years I’ve spent dreaming about this moment: the day I’d become a published author. I want to go back in time and sit down next to my third-grade self who was writing a totally kick-ass story about best friend female PIs and their adventures and say, “‘Sup? You keep on pluggin’ away, Red. It’s going to happen.” (I probably won’t tell her that she’s going to ditch the PIs in favorite of delicious gentlemen touching each other inappropriately. Why ruin the surprise?)
The thing about today? It’s not actually unique—a million other amazing authors have already experienced it! Some are experiencing right now. Some will tomorrow! Or next week! Or ten years from now! But instead of feeling like my best day ever is somehow diminished because of it having been repeated many times for many people, I actually feel like it’s heightened! I’ve stepped into a community of AWESOME!! I’m surrounded by creativity and word-power and people who know what this feels like. Or people who want to know! I’m on my bestie’s blog today, guys, floating in a blissful cloud of wordgasm and twenty-year-old dreams that somehow didn’t go stale. Twinkie dreams? And JC gets it, because he’s had this day, and he will again! (You rock, dood.)
THANK YOU SO MUCH for being here, thank you for reading this, and thank you for fighting for your own dreams! I hope today is your best day ever, too!!!
(Thank you, JC, for having me on your blog! Love your face.)  
Under the Table and Into His Heart by Raine O'Tierney
Blurb

At the Under the Table host club, Valentine’s Day means one thing: cash. Neglected housewives, newly ex-girlfriends, and lovelorn thirtysomethings pay for the attention of handsome men. Shy bartender Jem has always wanted to be a host, and when the club’s owner, Miss Rye, accepts a contract from a MensLove Convention, Jem volunteers to flirt and make out with another host for the ladies’ entertainment. Bailey, an older man who’s had his eye on Jem, convinces Miss Rye to let him be Jem’s partner, and everyone gets more than they expected—especially Jem and Bailey. 
Excerpt
“Do you like the Kirkpatrick Connection?” Bailey asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time. Then, as  if he’d said something offensive, he changed tack. “Dumb “Doesn’t mean I don’t like them,” Jem said with a smile. “I prefer the songs Bobby South wrote to Scotty’s.”
 “Okay, you’re just turning me on now.”
 Jem flushed, pleased.
“If you’re just tuning in, kiddos, we’re in the last hour of our ‘So you forgot ladies probably need to be taken to dinner if you want to get laid on Valentine’s Day’ contest. We’ve been giving away dates all day to idiots who forgot to make any plan whatsoever.”
 Bailey chuckled. Eyes still on the road, he reached down and fiddled with the dials on his dash radio, turning the volume up and setting the needle so the station came in a bit more clearly.
 “If you’ve been trying all day and couldn’t get through, then you’ve already heard our rules three hundred times. If not, listen up: we run an hour of songs, and then you challenge Sunshine—that’s me if you don’t know (and if you don’t know, why are you listening?)—to a trivia-off about the band of the hour. This hour’s band, obviously, is the Kirkpatrick Connection. Think you know more than I do? Call in; we’ll go head-to-head with some randomized trivia my minions cooked up. Am I cheating? Have I already looked at the answers on Wikipedia? Well, that’s the risk you run when you step up to Sunshine Duncan. Why haven’t you started dialing yet?”
“You should call,” Bailey said as he merged onto the highway.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Bailey teased. “Hotshot kid thinks he’s a real fan. I think he’s just trying to impress the old man.”
 “You’re not that much older than I am, Bailey.”
 “Well, you’re a heck of a lot younger than I am, Jem.” After a heartbeat’s pause, Bailey continued. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you, though. So you going to prove yourself a fan or what?”










##

Buy linkhttp://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4673&cPath=55_1024




Raine O'Tierney



Bio:  Raine  is an always-writing, boundlessly enthusiastic, exclamation point addict! (!!!) She is known for declaring every day “the best day EVER!” and every thing her “all-time FAVORITE!” Despite this (obnoxious?) exuberance, she still somehow manages to have a wonderfully encouraging husband, Siôn, (who also writes M/M rom!) and an amazing group of friends and colleagues who continue to support (read: put up with) her. Raine spends her days working as a library lady, fighting the good fight for intellectual freedom.

   Website and social media links
Website: http://raineotierney.com/
E-mail: Raineotierney@gmail.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RaineOTierne...
Twitter: @RaineOTierney
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/RaineOTierney

Weds Briefs #19 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers.  If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think. Reality and fantasy melded; their frayed ends twisting and twining, joining their fabrics into one. Owen easily slipped along the sheen of their surfaces, falling in and out of the conjoined worlds seamlessly. The fluidity of the movement dulled his mind to that defining line, blurring the two worlds. He knew he was a prisoner in the room, however, was he also a captive in his own mind? He no longer wondered if he was in a morphine-induced haze, dying of cancer. He’d accepted the reality of the monster vying for control of his body. But had his fantasy become his reality? Had Turk shown him kindness and actually promised to help him escape? A sudden bark of laughter burst from Owen’s mouth. There was no fucking escape. Turk and Wayne could drag him from the cell, but he’d never escape the inevitability of fate. His internal captor would emerge.Voices drifted about the room as Owen shivered on his bed. Earlier someone, possibly Malcolm, had mentioned upping the dosage to continue to arrest the demon’s emergence. Owen’s core temp had risen, signaling the drug’s effects waning. Yeah, they certainly didn’t want that asshole out.  Owen shivered and his stomach roiled at the rancid memory of forcing himself on the guard. He needed to know if he was okay...But of course he wasn’t okay. The man had been taken against his will, fucking raped, and some mojo from the Incubus had forced the victim to ask for it...no beg for it.   Malcolm came into view, holding an IV bag to replace the near empty one hanging above Owen. The scowl on his face did little to hide the tension in his body or the glint of fear in his eyes as he neared Owen. Malcolm, the badass covered in tattoos and muscles, definitely from a gym, was afraid of Owen. Not you. The Incubus. As Malcolm quickly changed out the IV bag, Owen shifted on the mattress to face him. Owen’s hands were no longer cuffed behind his back. Thick leather cuffs now tethered each arm to the rails of the bed, which had eased the screaming pain in his shoulders. Not that they’d did it to make him more comfortable. “Is the guard okay? Was he hurt?” Owen asked in a strained voice, desperate to ease his mind even a little. The scowl deepened and Malcolm ignored Owen as usual. The muscles in his jaw popped as he clenched his teeth. “Please, I just...I need to know he’s okay. I didn’t want—” Malcolm turned on Owen, a raging fire in his eyes. “No, he’s not okay! You fucking raped him, demon.” As Malcolm leaned closer, fear flared in Owen’s chest, knowing the physical damage the man could render. Maybe... “I did rape him. I couldn’t stop...The demon...He’s strong and soon even this,” Owen motioned to the IV, “won’t stop him.” “They say Daniel had a gun trained on you while you fucked Thomas but then he hit you with the darts instead. Fucking idiot. I bet you did something to him, forcing him to spare your life.” Malcolm spit the words out, coating them in as much venom as he could. He hated Owen, hated the demon, and Owen couldn’t blame him. “Daniel should have fucking ended you and the evil inside.” Owen knew that Daniel was Turk’s first name since he’d heard Dr. Sealy use it but he wondered about the nickname. “Daniel?” “Daniel Turek. The hunter.”  Turek...Turk. Malcolm sneered and leaned closer, apparently forgetting his fear. “He’s going to kill you. He’s been hunting you for a long time.”  The memory of Turk struggling against the necessity of shooting someone he cared for—or Owen hoped cared for—was like a kick to the chest. How would Turk live with himself if he killed Owen? God, Owen had begged him for death. If Owen could spare Turk the deed of having to kill him then he’d could remove the guilt that would come from actually pulling the trigger.  “I bet you wish you could kill me.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Malcolm’s mouth and light brightened his eyes. “You disgust me. Attacking and stealing power with your faggot ways.” Shit, he was a demonphobe and a homophobe. Definitely in Owen’s favor. “Guess you would be doing the world a favor by ending me. I can feel him, you know. He’s really close to the surface. Every minute, every second, he lives and breathes, and becomes stronger than these drugs.” Malcolm’s bravado slipped and he took a step back, the fear returning with Owen’s words. Owen’s heart raced as he locked the consequences his actions would bring behind a door in his mind. He had no choice. He just wished Turk could somehow know he’d done this for him.  “I’ve tried to hold him back, but I’m tired. So fucking tired. The pressure in my head, in my chest, hurts, and he’s clawing his way out, and he’s thinking and planning. I can hear him in my mind. He’s gonna get out and he’s got one name on his lips, the name of the man who’s power he wants most, the one who warrants revenge.”  Malcom’s eyes widened and his head shook minutely.  Owen nodded, fighting the panic that was icier than the drugs in his veins.  For Turk. “You Malcolm. He wants you.” “I ain’t no faggot! Fuck you! You ain’t touching me! I’ll end you before you touch me.”  Malcolm growled and lunged for Owen, his hands wrapping tightly around Owen’s neck. As he squeezed, panic surged and Owen’s mind and body instinctively fought back. Luckily, the restraints made his fight futile. Malcolm, his face red from effort, had locked his arms and pushed the heels of his palms against Owen’s throat, cutting off oxygen and blood. Owen fought to take in a breath as his lungs burned and heaved. His primal need to survive had kicked in and he wanted to live, needed air, but as his vision blackened at the edges, he retreated into his mind.  Turk...Wayne...his mom and step-father...his aunt...relatives and friends, all would live on without him. All safe from the demon.  Beautiful Turk. The man who’d captured his heart at first sight. Owen’s body went slack as a distant roar sounded in his ears. If he gave in, let go, this would be easier. He’d be off to the afterlife and he could save the world from an evil so vile it would threaten the very light of day. Drifting in the deep waters of his mind, Owen listened to a sweet melody...a lullaby his mother had sung to him as a child and also when he’d been so sick and she thought he was near death. Beside the song was the deep rumbling of Turk’s voice, telling Owen he would be okay, that everythingwould be okay. And Wayne, begging Owen to open his eyes. Owen couldn’t open his eyes because he had to go. Keep them all safe.  Something struck Owen’s cheek, jarring his thoughts, clearing the haze. A deep gasp and sweet cool oxygen expanded his lungs. Another breath and Owen wondered how death could feel like life. “Shit, Owen, open your fucking eyes!” Another strike and Owen’s eyes popped open to see Wayne and Turk leaning over him. Tears ran down his cheeks.  “No! No! No! What the fuck did you do? He was going to save you by killing me!” Wayne’s eyebrows climbed his forehead, anger marring his features. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen turned to Turk with pleading eyes. “I didn’t want you to have to do it. I didn’t want you to feel that guilt. You shouldn’t have...” More fucking tears. Owen wanted off this damned rollercoaster. The constant ups and downs, the highs of hope and dips into despair, had all but crushed his will. Turk pursed his lips into a thin white line. He pushed sweaty locks of hair from Owen’s forehead, the gentleness like knife stabs into Owen’s soul. Soft, pain-filled eyes surveyed Owen’s face and fingers ran over the raw skin of his neck. Owen shuddered from the reverent touches.  Wayne quickly worked to remove the restraint from Owen’s left arm. Turk seeing the action quickly freed Owen’s other arm, then took the wrist between his palms, rubbing the chaffed skin tenderly.  When Turk looked up, Owen gasped at the intensity of the gaze. “I promised to get you out of here. I keep my promises. And we have a plan.”  While Owen wanted to rail against his rescue, beg Turk, beg Wayne, to let him die and rid him of the malevolent entity in his body, the naked affection in those eyes changed everything. Owen did the one thing he’d dreamed of, fantasized of, since he’d last seen Turk. He raised his shaking hands, took Turk’s face in his hands, and pulled him down for a kiss. # #  Check out the other flashers this week at httbp://wedbriefsfic.com/  or click on the links below: Cia NordwellJon KeysShelly SchulzGrace Duncan Rob ColtonLily Sawyer Michael MandrakeRaine O’Tierney Victoria AdamsMA Church Chris T. KatTali SpencerElyzabeth VaLey Renee StevensMC Houle Julie Lynn Hayes 

Weds Briefs #18 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers.  If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think. Reality and fantasy melded; their frayed ends twisting and twining, joining their fabrics into one. Owen easily slipped along the sheen of their surfaces, falling in and out of the conjoined worlds seamlessly. The fluidity of the movement dulled his mind to that defining line, blurring the two worlds. He knew he was a prisoner in the room, however, was he also a captive in his own mind? He no longer wondered if he was in a morphine-induced haze, dying of cancer. He’d accepted the reality of the monster vying for control of his body. But had his fantasy become his reality? Had Turk shown him kindness and actually promised to help him escape? A sudden bark of laughter burst from Owen’s mouth. There was no fucking escape. Turk and Wayne could drag him from the cell, but he’d never escape the inevitability of fate. His internal captor would emerge.Voices drifted about the room as Owen shivered on his bed. Earlier someone, possibly Malcolm, had mentioned upping the dosage to continue to arrest the demon’s emergence. Owen’s core temp had risen, signaling the drug’s effects waning. Yeah, they certainly didn’t want that asshole out.  Owen shivered and his stomach roiled at the rancid memory of forcing himself on the guard. He needed to know if he was okay...But of course he wasn’t okay. The man had been taken against his will, fucking raped, and some mojo from the Incubus had forced the victim to ask for it...no beg for it.   Malcolm came into view, holding an IV bag to replace the near empty one hanging above Owen. The scowl on his face did little to hide the tension in his body or the glint of fear in his eyes as he neared Owen. Malcolm, the badass covered in tattoos and muscles, definitely from a gym, was afraid of Owen. Not you. The Incubus. As Malcolm quickly changed out the IV bag, Owen shifted on the mattress to face him. Owen’s hands were no longer cuffed behind his back. Thick leather cuffs now tethered each arm to the rails of the bed, which had eased the screaming pain in his shoulders. Not that they’d did it to make him more comfortable. “Is the guard okay? Was he hurt?” Owen asked in a strained voice, desperate to ease his mind even a little. The scowl deepened and Malcolm ignored Owen as usual. The muscles in his jaw popped as he clenched his teeth. “Please, I just...I need to know he’s okay. I didn’t want—” Malcolm turned on Owen, a raging fire in his eyes. “No, he’s not okay! You fucking raped him, demon.” As Malcolm leaned closer, fear flared in Owen’s chest, knowing the physical damage the man could render. Maybe... “I did rape him. I couldn’t stop...The demon...He’s strong and soon even this,” Owen motioned to the IV, “won’t stop him.” “They say Daniel had a gun trained on you while you fucked Thomas but then he hit you with the darts instead. Fucking idiot. I bet you did something to him, forcing him to spare your life.” Malcolm spit the words out, coating them in as much venom as he could. He hated Owen, hated the demon, and Owen couldn’t blame him. “Daniel should have fucking ended you and the evil inside.” Owen knew that Daniel was Turk’s first name since he’d heard Dr. Sealy use it but he wondered about the nickname. “Daniel?” “Daniel Turek. The hunter.”  Turek...Turk. Malcolm sneered and leaned closer, apparently forgetting his fear. “He’s going to kill you. He’s been hunting you for a long time.”  The memory of Turk struggling against the necessity of shooting someone he cared for—or Owen hoped cared for—was like a kick to the chest. How would Turk live with himself if he killed Owen? God, Owen had begged him for death. If Owen could spare Turk the deed of having to kill him then he’d could remove the guilt that would come from actually pulling the trigger.  “I bet you wish you could kill me.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Malcolm’s mouth and light brightened his eyes. “You disgust me. Attacking and stealing power with your faggot ways.” Shit, he was a demonphobe and a homophobe. Definitely in Owen’s favor. “Guess you would be doing the world a favor by ending me. I can feel him, you know. He’s really close to the surface. Every minute, every second, he lives and breathes, and becomes stronger than these drugs.” Malcolm’s bravado slipped and he took a step back, the fear returning with Owen’s words. Owen’s heart raced as he locked the consequences his actions would bring behind a door in his mind. He had no choice. He just wished Turk could somehow know he’d done this for him.  “I’ve tried to hold him back, but I’m tired. So fucking tired. The pressure in my head, in my chest, hurts, and he’s clawing his way out, and he’s thinking and planning. I can hear him in my mind. He’s gonna get out and he’s got one name on his lips, the name of the man who’s power he wants most, the one who warrants revenge.”  Malcom’s eyes widened and his head shook minutely.  Owen nodded, fighting the panic that was icier than the drugs in his veins.  For Turk. “You Malcolm. He wants you.” “I ain’t no faggot! Fuck you! You ain’t touching me! I’ll end you before you touch me.”  Malcolm growled and lunged for Owen, his hands wrapping tightly around Owen’s neck. As he squeezed, panic surged and Owen’s mind and body instinctively fought back. Luckily, the restraints made his fight futile. Malcolm, his face red from effort, had locked his arms and pushed the heels of his palms against Owen’s throat, cutting off oxygen and blood. Owen fought to take in a breath as his lungs burned and heaved. His primal need to survive had kicked in and he wanted to live, needed air, but as his vision blackened at the edges, he retreated into his mind.  Turk...Wayne...his mom and step-father...his aunt...relatives and friends, all would live on without him. All safe from the demon.  Beautiful Turk. The man who’d captured his heart at first sight. Owen’s body went slack as a distant roar sounded in his ears. If he gave in, let go, this would be easier. He’d be off to the afterlife and he could save the world from an evil so vile it would threaten the very light of day. Drifting in the deep waters of his mind, Owen listened to a sweet melody...a lullaby his mother had sung to him as a child and also when he’d been so sick and she thought he was near death. Beside the song was the deep rumbling of Turk’s voice, telling Owen he would be okay, that everythingwould be okay. And Wayne, begging Owen to open his eyes. Owen couldn’t open his eyes because he had to go. Keep them all safe.  Something struck Owen’s cheek, jarring his thoughts, clearing the haze. A deep gasp and sweet cool oxygen expanded his lungs. Another breath and Owen wondered how death could feel like life. “Shit, Owen, open your fucking eyes!” Another strike and Owen’s eyes popped open to see Wayne and Turk leaning over him. Tears ran down his cheeks.  “No! No! No! What the fuck did you do? He was going to save you by killing me!” Wayne’s eyebrows climbed his forehead, anger marring his features. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen turned to Turk with pleading eyes. “I didn’t want you to have to do it. I didn’t want you to feel that guilt. You shouldn’t have...” More fucking tears. Owen wanted off this damned rollercoaster. The constant ups and downs, the highs of hope and dips into despair, had all but crushed his will. Turk pursed his lips into a thin white line. He pushed sweaty locks of hair from Owen’s forehead, the gentleness like knife stabs into Owen’s soul. Soft, pain-filled eyes surveyed Owen’s face and fingers ran over the raw skin of his neck. Owen shuddered from the reverent touches.  Wayne quickly worked to remove the restraint from Owen’s left arm. Turk seeing the action quickly freed Owen’s other arm, then took the wrist between his palms, rubbing the chaffed skin tenderly.  When Turk looked up, Owen gasped at the intensity of the gaze. “I promised to get you out of here. I keep my promises. And we have a plan.”  While Owen wanted to rail against his rescue, beg Turk, beg Wayne, to let him die and rid him of the malevolent entity in his body, the naked affection in those eyes changed everything. Owen did the one thing he’d dreamed of, fantasized of, since he’d last seen Turk. He raised his shaking hands, took Turk’s face in his hands, and pulled him down for a kiss. # #  Check out the other flashers this week at httbp://wedbriefsfic.com/  or click on the links below: Cia NordwellJon KeysShelly SchulzGrace Duncan Rob ColtonLily Sawyer Michael MandrakeRaine O’Tierney Victoria AdamsMA Church Chris T. KatTali SpencerElyzabeth VaLey Renee StevensMC Houle Julie Lynn Hayes 

Weds Briefs #17 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers.  If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think. Reality and fantasy melded; their frayed ends twisting and twining, joining their fabrics into one. Owen easily slipped along the sheen of their surfaces, falling in and out of the conjoined worlds seamlessly. The fluidity of the movement dulled his mind to that defining line, blurring the two worlds. He knew he was a prisoner in the room, however, was he also a captive in his own mind? He no longer wondered if he was in a morphine-induced haze, dying of cancer. He’d accepted the reality of the monster vying for control of his body. But had his fantasy become his reality? Had Turk shown him kindness and actually promised to help him escape? A sudden bark of laughter burst from Owen’s mouth. There was no fucking escape. Turk and Wayne could drag him from the cell, but he’d never escape the inevitability of fate. His internal captor would emerge.Voices drifted about the room as Owen shivered on his bed. Earlier someone, possibly Malcolm, had mentioned upping the dosage to continue to arrest the demon’s emergence. Owen’s core temp had risen, signaling the drug’s effects waning. Yeah, they certainly didn’t want that asshole out.  Owen shivered and his stomach roiled at the rancid memory of forcing himself on the guard. He needed to know if he was okay...But of course he wasn’t okay. The man had been taken against his will, fucking raped, and some mojo from the Incubus had forced the victim to ask for it...no beg for it.   Malcolm came into view, holding an IV bag to replace the near empty one hanging above Owen. The scowl on his face did little to hide the tension in his body or the glint of fear in his eyes as he neared Owen. Malcolm, the badass covered in tattoos and muscles, definitely from a gym, was afraid of Owen. Not you. The Incubus. As Malcolm quickly changed out the IV bag, Owen shifted on the mattress to face him. Owen’s hands were no longer cuffed behind his back. Thick leather cuffs now tethered each arm to the rails of the bed, which had eased the screaming pain in his shoulders. Not that they’d did it to make him more comfortable. “Is the guard okay? Was he hurt?” Owen asked in a strained voice, desperate to ease his mind even a little. The scowl deepened and Malcolm ignored Owen as usual. The muscles in his jaw popped as he clenched his teeth. “Please, I just...I need to know he’s okay. I didn’t want—” Malcolm turned on Owen, a raging fire in his eyes. “No, he’s not okay! You fucking raped him, demon.” As Malcolm leaned closer, fear flared in Owen’s chest, knowing the physical damage the man could render. Maybe... “I did rape him. I couldn’t stop...The demon...He’s strong and soon even this,” Owen motioned to the IV, “won’t stop him.” “They say Daniel had a gun trained on you while you fucked Thomas but then he hit you with the darts instead. Fucking idiot. I bet you did something to him, forcing him to spare your life.” Malcolm spit the words out, coating them in as much venom as he could. He hated Owen, hated the demon, and Owen couldn’t blame him. “Daniel should have fucking ended you and the evil inside.” Owen knew that Daniel was Turk’s first name since he’d heard Dr. Sealy use it but he wondered about the nickname. “Daniel?” “Daniel Turek. The hunter.”  Turek...Turk. Malcolm sneered and leaned closer, apparently forgetting his fear. “He’s going to kill you. He’s been hunting you for a long time.”  The memory of Turk struggling against the necessity of shooting someone he cared for—or Owen hoped cared for—was like a kick to the chest. How would Turk live with himself if he killed Owen? God, Owen had begged him for death. If Owen could spare Turk the deed of having to kill him then he’d could remove the guilt that would come from actually pulling the trigger.  “I bet you wish you could kill me.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Malcolm’s mouth and light brightened his eyes. “You disgust me. Attacking and stealing power with your faggot ways.” Shit, he was a demonphobe and a homophobe. Definitely in Owen’s favor. “Guess you would be doing the world a favor by ending me. I can feel him, you know. He’s really close to the surface. Every minute, every second, he lives and breathes, and becomes stronger than these drugs.” Malcolm’s bravado slipped and he took a step back, the fear returning with Owen’s words. Owen’s heart raced as he locked the consequences his actions would bring behind a door in his mind. He had no choice. He just wished Turk could somehow know he’d done this for him.  “I’ve tried to hold him back, but I’m tired. So fucking tired. The pressure in my head, in my chest, hurts, and he’s clawing his way out, and he’s thinking and planning. I can hear him in my mind. He’s gonna get out and he’s got one name on his lips, the name of the man who’s power he wants most, the one who warrants revenge.”  Malcom’s eyes widened and his head shook minutely.  Owen nodded, fighting the panic that was icier than the drugs in his veins.  For Turk. “You Malcolm. He wants you.” “I ain’t no faggot! Fuck you! You ain’t touching me! I’ll end you before you touch me.”  Malcolm growled and lunged for Owen, his hands wrapping tightly around Owen’s neck. As he squeezed, panic surged and Owen’s mind and body instinctively fought back. Luckily, the restraints made his fight futile. Malcolm, his face red from effort, had locked his arms and pushed the heels of his palms against Owen’s throat, cutting off oxygen and blood. Owen fought to take in a breath as his lungs burned and heaved. His primal need to survive had kicked in and he wanted to live, needed air, but as his vision blackened at the edges, he retreated into his mind.  Turk...Wayne...his mom and step-father...his aunt...relatives and friends, all would live on without him. All safe from the demon.  Beautiful Turk. The man who’d captured his heart at first sight. Owen’s body went slack as a distant roar sounded in his ears. If he gave in, let go, this would be easier. He’d be off to the afterlife and he could save the world from an evil so vile it would threaten the very light of day. Drifting in the deep waters of his mind, Owen listened to a sweet melody...a lullaby his mother had sung to him as a child and also when he’d been so sick and she thought he was near death. Beside the song was the deep rumbling of Turk’s voice, telling Owen he would be okay, that everythingwould be okay. And Wayne, begging Owen to open his eyes. Owen couldn’t open his eyes because he had to go. Keep them all safe.  Something struck Owen’s cheek, jarring his thoughts, clearing the haze. A deep gasp and sweet cool oxygen expanded his lungs. Another breath and Owen wondered how death could feel like life. “Shit, Owen, open your fucking eyes!” Another strike and Owen’s eyes popped open to see Wayne and Turk leaning over him. Tears ran down his cheeks.  “No! No! No! What the fuck did you do? He was going to save you by killing me!” Wayne’s eyebrows climbed his forehead, anger marring his features. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen turned to Turk with pleading eyes. “I didn’t want you to have to do it. I didn’t want you to feel that guilt. You shouldn’t have...” More fucking tears. Owen wanted off this damned rollercoaster. The constant ups and downs, the highs of hope and dips into despair, had all but crushed his will. Turk pursed his lips into a thin white line. He pushed sweaty locks of hair from Owen’s forehead, the gentleness like knife stabs into Owen’s soul. Soft, pain-filled eyes surveyed Owen’s face and fingers ran over the raw skin of his neck. Owen shuddered from the reverent touches.  Wayne quickly worked to remove the restraint from Owen’s left arm. Turk seeing the action quickly freed Owen’s other arm, then took the wrist between his palms, rubbing the chaffed skin tenderly.  When Turk looked up, Owen gasped at the intensity of the gaze. “I promised to get you out of here. I keep my promises. And we have a plan.”  While Owen wanted to rail against his rescue, beg Turk, beg Wayne, to let him die and rid him of the malevolent entity in his body, the naked affection in those eyes changed everything. Owen did the one thing he’d dreamed of, fantasized of, since he’d last seen Turk. He raised his shaking hands, took Turk’s face in his hands, and pulled him down for a kiss. # #  Check out the other flashers this week at httbp://wedbriefsfic.com/  or click on the links below:  Cia NordwellJon KeysShelly SchulzGrace Duncan Rob ColtonLily Sawyer Michael MandrakeRaine O’Tierney Victoria AdamsMA Church Chris T. KatTali SpencerElyzabeth VaLey Renee StevensMC Houle Julie Lynn Hayes 

Welcome to the blog Julie Lynn Hayes with her new release: When Will I See You Again

Moon Musings

“O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb...”       
         William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“Cold-hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colors from our sight
Red is grey and yellow white
But we decide which is right And which is an illusion?”
             Moody Blues, Nights in White Satin/Lament


The Moon is one of the most highly anthropomorphized heavenly bodies, in poetry, music, and film. The moon is both villain and hero, blamed for the madness of men on the one hand and praised for her encouragement of lovers on the other. The word lunatic derives the old French lunatique, lunage, or directly from Late Latin lunaticus “moon-struck”, from the Latin luna “moon.” And of course we all know there is a man in the moon, who lives off of the cheese the moon is made from!


In Greek mythology, Selene is the goddess of the moon. Her siblings are the sun-god Helios and Eos, goddess of the dawn. Her name most likely derives from selas, the Greek work for light. Her brother Helios is often identified with Apollo, and is referred to as Phoebus, while Selene, identified with Artemis, is also known as Phoebe.

The ancient Greeks used gods and goddesses to help explain the natural world around them, such as the rising and setting of the sun and moon. The moon must have been particularly mystifying with her seemingly constant changing—waxing and waning as each month progressed, completely disappearing during the time of the new moon, and then reappearing in all her glory during the full moon.

Even today, there are people who believe that the moon is an influence on their lives, besides the pull she exerts on the tides. One example is the monthly cycle of women, menses sharing a common root with the Greek words for moon and month. Some people believe that the moon affects their moods.

And then there are other creatures that are more directly affected: werewolves.



What is it about the full moon that causes this phenomemon?

An Australian study among emergency patients with violent, acute disturbances comparable to werewolves found that a quarter of those admitted to a small hospital north of Sydney occurred on the night of the full moon, double the number for other lunar phases. Some people were reported to rub themselves with a special ointment, to induce the transformation to becoming a werewolf, an ointment often containing belladonna and nightshade—well known for their hallucinogenic qualities. In modern times, these ointments have been replaced by alcohol and drugs.

Werewolves are not necessarily just the stuff of legends. There have been reported werewolf sightings in Wisconsin that go back to 1936. Cases of people who believe themselves to be werewolves have been reported in various scientific journals, including The Canadian Psychiatric Association Journal. In 16th century Germany, a farmer claiming to be a werewolf was dealt a very unpleasant death by frightened townspeople. As for literature, werewolf stories go back many years, including the epic Gilgamesh, written 4,000 years ago.

For a werewolf, the moon is a cruel mistress indeed, one he or she cannot evade. She must be obeyed on that night, for nothing short of death can stop the change. But what if there were a drug that could control the change, control the beast within? Would that make being a werewolf more palatable? More acceptable to society at large?


When Will I See You Again takes place in a time when the presence of werewolves and vampires among the general populace is known and accepted, largely because of drugs that control any baser animal instincts. SL57 is the werewolf wonder drug, short for SomnioLupus, otherwise known as Wolf Trank. In the small seaside town of Crescent Bay, people come to the famous nightclub Charisma, mostly because of the charismatic man who is one of the best-known supes in the area: Raoul Marchand. Raoul is a regular party animal, one who lives but to have a good time, and who cares for no one and nothing. But he hasn’t always been this way...


Blurb: Raoul Marchand is the crown prince of Charisma, the infamous night club in Crescent Bay, renowned for its supernatural clientele. He has the pick of any and all men, but he cares for none. He uses them and throws them away again, and has done so for some twenty years, in the aftermath of a tragedy that robbed him of what he loved most in the world.

Alexx Jameson is an idealistic young would-be reporter with the Crescent Bay Chronicle. Presented with an opportunity to write a story on the Marchands, he eagerly grasps the chance to be a real reporter. His friend, Chronicle receptionist Miller Fenwick, suggests they go to Charisma to do a little research. Alexx isn’t sure that’s such a great idea. After all, he’s still under age, being only twenty. No problem, Miller can fix that! Added bonus, there’s a full moon tonight.

When Alexx first encounters Raoul, it isn’t exactly in the way he dreamed of, and he’s sure he made a terrible first impression. But Fate throws them together under unforeseen circumstances, and the attraction between them can’t be denied. Can Raoul let go of the past long enough to find his future with Alexx, or is he doomed to repeat past mistakes?


Excerpt:

Alexx drew in his breath in dismay. This wasn’t going well. Even so, he could not stop staring at Raoul. His eyes met the other man’s. Raoul’s were very golden; he wasn’t aware such colors even existed in the spectrum of the human eye. But then again, he didn’t have any friends that were werewolves either. He wondered if this was a sign that perhaps this man was about to change, right here and now?

The thought was both exhilarating and frightening.

Alexx’s vision telescoped until he wasn’t aware of anything but this gorgeous man in front of him. Blood pounded in his ears and his mouth felt suddenly dry. Having lost all sense of the others in the room, he was surprised when he felt his chair yanked out from under him. Before he could fall, a hand grabbed the scruff of his neck, propelling him to his feet. He glanced at his companion; Miller was being subjected to the same surly treatment.

“You waste my time for this?” Raoul’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. Alexx found himself wildly attracted to him. “I have somewhere I need to be. Paolo, please show these gentlemen out.” Sarcastic much? He turned and reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it.

A shaggy blond with hazel eyes and a cheerful countenance stuck his head inside. “Hey Paolo—” He interrupted himself at the sight of the occupants of the room. Alexx heard Miller’s sigh of relief, even as he too recognized the newcomer. He’d seen him around the Chronicle often enough, although he’d never really spoken to him. Foster Levine, son of the Chronicle’s owner—heir apparent and future newspaper magnate.

Alexx’s relief quickly changed to anxiety. What if Foster knew how old he really was? He couldn’t be sure one way or the other, but for the sake of argument, he had to assume he did. Would he out him to Raoul Marchand and his burly minion? Had they simply jumped from the frying pan to be scorched by the fire?


  Buy: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/WhenWillISeeYouAgain.html

Author Bio:
Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she'd never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another's arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. She enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn't mind. Marching to the beat of one's own drummer is a good thing, after all. Her published works can be found at Amber Quill Press, Dreamspinner Press, MuseitUp Publishing, Torquere Press, and eXtasy Books. She is also an editor at MuseitUp.

My links:

Blog 
http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com

Twitter
@Shelley_runyon

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/julie.l.hayes.7?ref=tn_tnmn

My Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3442231.Julie_Lynn_Hayes

Email:
tothewolf.max@gmail.com