Tag Archive: Soulshares


It’s funny — whatever I plot, for one of the Fae books, I almost always end up with at least one chapter set on the Acela — the express train between Washington, D.C. and New York City. My Fae can get from one to the other by Fading, but humans don’t take very well to being transported that way. And I hadn’t planned for this scene, but Josh and Garrett got up in my face tonight and told me I had to give them a scene on the train. So, without further ado…

 

GarrettDancing

 

“You’re still glowing.”
Garrett grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I feel like I am. Which is silly, really.”
“I’ve always believed life’s much easier if you have a low pleasure threshold, myself.” Josh grinned back from his vantage point opposite Garrett. “And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last year or so, it’s to stop feeling silly about being happy.”
“I get that.” Garrett glanced out the window, his grin turning into a more introspective smile. “Hard to believe that six months ago, I hadn’t met Lochlann.”
Garrett knew his fellow human SoulShare would follow his leap of logic. The tattoo artist and his ethereal Fae partner were still so obviously in love, it was hard to breathe when they were both around.
“So what exactly did you tell Terry?” Josh tossed aside the magazine he’d been trying to read and settled back in his seat. “I know the basics, but damn, I haven’t seen Terry look that happy in a long time. Since well before Bryce threw him out.”
Garrett frowned. “Remind me to ask you about that, because I really want to know, but right now that’s harshing my mellow.” He laughed softly, leaning forward so as not to have to raise his voice. They weren’t alone in the car by any means, and even if they weren’t talking about Fae at the moment, his life was nobody else’s damned business. “I told him that Lochlann and I had been to that pole-and-aerial dancer’s performance, at the Atlas Performing Arts Center–Davide Aubuchon–and that watching him lit a fire under my ass.” Truth. The Frenchman had combined pole dancing and aerial work and floor work in a way Garrett had never imagined possible. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, and I’m not giving up the pole any time soon, and by that I mean ever, but I told Terry that I really need to push myself. I think I can do that.”
“But you need formal dance training. Or so you think.” Josh raised a brow. “I beg to differ.”
Garrett could feel himself blushing. When he was working the pole, accepting the whistles and shouts and other forms of appreciation showered on him by other men was part of the job. Off the dance floor, though, he still had problems accepting praise. Especially now, when he’d seen what was possible and figured out how hard he was going to have to push himself to accomplish it. “Thanks. But if you’d seen this guy, you’d know what I’m talking about. And I’ve had pickup classes here and there, all different kinds of dance. But I’ve never really studied. And I would feel like a complete idiot walking into a beginners’ ballet class at my age.”
“Terry was obviously okay with you asking.” Josh nodded. “And that made me happy. He took losing his dance company in New York really hard. I don’t think he’s even been in a ballet studio since he moved down to D.C. It’s going to do him a world of good to work with you.”
Josh was happy. Truly happy. Terrence Miller had been Josh’s lover, partner in work as well as in life, until Bryce Newhouse had come along and decided to lure Terry away. Breaking Josh’s heart in the process, Garrett had no doubt, though the hunky tat artist never talked about it. Yet Josh hadn’t thought twice, back when Bryce dumped Terry and threw him out of their apartment. He’d opened his tattoo studio–and even his home, until Terry had been able to get back on his feet. And even now, all it apparently took to make Josh happy was to make Terry happy.
And all it took to seriously piss Josh off was… “What is Newhouse’s shit, anyway?” He was pretty sure his original impulsive desire to meet the investment banker cum dickhead had been a bad idea. He’d still be on this train regardless–Conall was going to need Lochlann, and Lochlann was going to need him–but what he knew of Newhouse reminded him entirely too much of the bullies he’d grown up with. The kind who made people’s lives hell because they could. So they could see they had an impact on the world. They had to hurt others, just to know they themselves existed.
“I’d say I wish I knew, but I don’t think I really want to know how that kind of mind works.” Josh tipped his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, the very top of the head of the black-headed hawk tattooed on his chest visible over the neckline of his t-shirt. “Though I’ll admit, he wasn’t much more than an ordinary run-of-the-mill dirtbag when he first went after Terry. I still think the Marfach had a hand in kicking him out of the house, though. Even Terry has never figured out why Bryce did that.”

BLOWING SMOKE is the fifth Fae book. And the first in its own series, the Broken Pattern. See, at the end of FIRESTORM, the fourth SoulShares book, in order to save Cuinn and Rian and coincidentally the Fae Realm and the human world, the SoulShares of Purgatory had to, well, blow a great big hole in the Pattern, the portal between the worlds. And strange things are beginning to happen. (Yes, even stranger than in the first four books…) This is an excerpt from Chapter 8 — Lasair Faol, formerly the Master of Fade-hounds for the Royal family of the Demesne of Fire, and his newborn Fade-hound puppy Culin haven’t yet been formally introduced to Bryce Newhouse, but Lasair’s already feeling the pull of the as-yet-unconsummated SoulShare bond.

 

lasairfaolodingrina1

 

Lasair stopped short. The human lay on his back on a richly-upholstered and beautifully carved divan, his head propped against one arm and his feet hanging over the other, sound asleep. Culin was curled up on his chest, half wrapped in a soft cloth, likewise peacefully asleep. A little table had been pulled over to the divan, near the human’s head, and a small cooking-pot sat on it. Even from where he stood, the enhanced senses of a Fae could smell milk. There were even traces of it on Culin’s short grey-brown mustache. Milk, and something else, something that smelled like salt.
A pang of pure jealousy went straight through Lasair, surprising him with its intensity. He wasn’t sure which was harder to swallow, the thought that the human had been able to get Culin to eat where he’d failed, or the visual proof that he and the pup hadn’t bonded. Most modern Fade-hound breeders considered the old stories about blind Fade-hounds no more than idle tales. And surely it was fantasy, to think that a blind dog could form such a close, exclusive bond with a Fae that each could see through the other’s eyes. Pure fantasy. Yet he’d hoped, when little blind Culin had looked up at him…
Lasair shook his head. The important thing for now was that the human had gotten the pup to eat. Filled his belly, too, from the look of him.
I am not jealous.
Not.
Not jealous at all. But Culin was his responsibility, not the human’s. He reached to pick up the puppy–froze as the human stirred, groped restlessly, mumbled under his breath. One slender, long-fingered hand found Culin and settled protectively over the furry body; the muttering stopped, replaced by a snore almost too faint to hear, even for a Fae.
Just that quickly, Lasair realized that he was indeed jealous. But not of the human. Of Culin.
I want that hand on me.
He backed up quickly, almost falling over a chair he’d forgotten was there, catching himself, turning and hastening back to the bedchamber. It wasn’t until he was leaning against the far side of the closed door, head tipped back, eyes closed, trying to slow his breathing, that he started to curse. Under his breath, so as not to wake the human.
In the Realm, the Master of the Royal Fade-hounds had been held in awe. The hounds were terrifying to most Fae, a story told to misbehaving children, used as a method of execution by some Royals. Forces of nature with five-inch fangs, relentless hunters with a taste for blood. But to him, they had been like family. He had been ready to lay down his life for them, and he knew they would have done the same for him. Even little Culin, following him trustingly through the terror of transition.
His rapport with the hounds had been legendary.
When it came to Fae, on the other hand, he was a disgrace. He definitely had all the reflexes and instincts and hungers of his race, but if seduction was an art form among the Fae–which it most certainly was–then he himself had never passed much beyond sketching childish stick figures on the hearthstones with charcoal. In a culture where desire always came wrapped in layers on layers of enticement and mystery, no one knew what to make of a Fae who refused to play the kinds of games they were all born to play. As clumsy as one of his pups, they’d said, laughing. But clumsy he was not. He only wanted to be open about what he wanted.
He hadn’t realized until just now how much he’d hoped things would be different with the human. Hadn’t Fae had their way with humans whenever they wished, back in the time before the Sundering when the two races shared a world? There would be no need for the dance, the game. For once, surely, he was free to take what he wanted, what his body needed. All he had to do was do what he wished, be what he was and had always been. All would be well.
Except it wouldn’t. It wasn’t. For the first time, he saw at least in part the point of the rin’gcatha gríobhan, the labyrinthine dance. He still didn’t want to play the game for the sake of playing, for the style and the beauty and the craft of it, but neither did he want to simply wake the human up, roll him over, and take the pleasure he both needed and wanted. He wanted to smooth away the frown line that seemed to live between the human’s brows. He wanted to see the smile he knew the human hid, and he wanted to know he’d been the cause of the smiling. He wanted to find out if the scent of salt had come from human tears, and to make them stop.
There were a great many things Lasair wanted. None of which he had ever wanted before, and none of which he had the slightest idea how to get.
No. There was one thing he knew how to get. Knew very well. One of the many words as’Faein for self-pleasure was dara-láiv. Literally, it meant ‘second-hand’–the implication being that your partner had grown bored and left after one orgasm, and you were thus forced to rely on your own devices for the second.

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Firestorm for Kindle, UK — http://www.amazon.co.uk/Firestorm-Soulshares-Rory-Ni-Coileain-ebook/dp/B00IOWB2BW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1393543044&sr=1-1&keywords=rory+ni+coileain

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Firestorm, All Romance eBooks — https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-firestorm-1436511-340.html

Firestorm, Bookstrand — http://www.bookstrand.com/firestorm-3

Heart of the Oak for Kindle — http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Oak-Boys-Will-ebook/dp/B00FBF4XIY/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1380206135&sr=1-4&keywords=Heart+of+the+Oak

 

Heart of the Oak for Nook — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heart-of-the-oak-rory-ni-coileain/1116996454?ean=9781419948145

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Deep Plunge for Kindle (US) — http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Plunge-SoulShares-ebook/dp/B00EV7OAYU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377825393&sr=1-1&keywords=Deep+Plunge+Rory+Ni+Coileain

Deep Plunge, trade paperback, Amazon — http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Plunge-SoulShares-Number-III/dp/1607779498/ref=la_B009M8XQP2_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394317628&sr=1-1

Deep Plunge, Ravenous Romance — http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/deep-plunge-soulshares-number-iii.php

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Gale Force for Kindle (US) — http://www.amazon.com/Gale-Force-Soulshares-ebook/dp/B00BSEDKB8/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1363476525&sr=8-3&keywords=Gale+Force

Gale Force for Kindle (UK) — http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gale-Force-Soulshares-ebook/dp/B00BSEDKB8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363112251&sr=8-1

Gale Force, trade paperback, Amazon — http://www.amazon.com/Gale-Force-Soulshares-Volume-2/dp/160777934X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1375935343&sr=8-1&keywords=Gale+Force+Rory+Ni+Coileain

Gale Force, Ravenous Romance — http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/gale-force.php

Gale Force, All Romance eBooks — https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hardasstone-977359-143.html

Gale Force, Barnes & Noble (Nook) — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gale-force-rory-ni-coileain/1114819137?ean=2940016296111

Gale Force, Kobo — http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Gale-Force/book-Lcg0U_igUUyXOsufiKIvPQ/page1.html?s=GakQctslHkqvHH3JsFY8JQ&r=3

Gale Force, Angus & Robertson (Australia!) — http://www.angusrobertson.com.au/ebook/gale-force/40329536/

Gale Force, Amazon (Kindle) Germany — http://www.amazon.de/Gale-Force-Soulshares-ebook/dp/B00BSEDKB8

 

Hard as Stone for Kindle — http://www.amazon.com/Hard-as-Stone-ebook/dp/B009SX91JQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1355285138&sr=8-1&keywords=hard+as+stone+rory+ni+coileain

Hard as Stone, trade paperback, Amazon — http://www.amazon.com/Hard-as-Stone-Rory-Coileain/dp/1607779293/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1363476804&sr=1-1&keywords=hard+as+stone+rory+ni+coileain

Hard as Stone for Nook — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hard-as-stone-rory-ni-coileain/1113526804?ean=2940015530766

Hard as Stone, Kobo — http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Hard-As-Stone/book-06D0J5iMoEOk2FwhYFWLnQ/page1.html?s=1sR8MxtCREeacsxkHGm4gQ&r=2

Hard as Stone at Ravenous Romance’s Web site — http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/hard-as-stone.php

Hard as Stone at Fictionwise — http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b135271/Hard-as-Stone/Rory-Ni-Coileain/?si=0

 

Dangerous Curves (anthology) for Kindle (writing as Susan Swann) — http://www.amazon.com/Dangerous-Curves-Stories-Voluptuous-ebook/dp/B007ZE2H2S/ref=sr_1_18?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1355285356&sr=1-18&keywords=Dangerous+Curves

Here’s an excerpt from Blowing Smoke, the first book in the Broken Pattern cycle of the SoulShares. (I’m sitting at my desk, looking out my back window at the sight of snow melting, hearing a chorus of angels singing “Hallelujah,” and I’m just so happy I need to spread a little joy around!) This bit is part of Chapter 7, and it doesn’t actually involve the main characters, Lasair Faol and Bryce Newhouse (ducks objects thrown by those who have read the first four books and think I’ve lost my mind). This chapter lets us catch up with Lochlann and Garrett, the Fae healer and the pole dancer from Deep Plunge. Enjoy!

Garrett slid a hand down Lochlann’s side, along the curve of his ass to his thigh where it rested over his own. At the same time, he leaned in, catching the dark Fae’s startled breath with a kiss, and a soft laugh.
Lochlann relaxed into him, deepening the kiss, and using his leg to draw him closer. Garrett’s hips tilted, without him telling them to, getting the most out of the sweet friction.
“My morning wood thanks you.” He didn’t feel like pulling back from the kiss, so his lips rasped against Lochlann’s heavy stubble. One more reason to regret all the years he hadn’t been waking up with his SoulShare. Or anyone. “Though it’s almost my afternoon wood.”
“Noon?” Lochlann worked his hand between the two of them and wrapped it around Garrett’s erection, his thumb immediately going to the heavy ring piercing the head. “You’re up early. In several senses of the word.”
“Noon isn’t early.” Garrett groaned as Lochlann toyed with his PA. “You realize, I’m supposed to be using that to drive you insane.”
“It is when you got in so late.” Lochlann’s smile was pure wickedness. “And life’s unfair, grafain. Get used to it.”
“That wasn’t a complaint, exactly.” Garrett bit his lip, closing his eyes to focus on Lochlann’s touch. It was still new, this thing of having someone else focused on his pleasure. Hell, someone else focused on blowing his mind with every touch, every kiss, every word out of his mouth.
After almost ten years of renting his ass out to pay the rent and keep the lights on, and almost nine of being HIV-positive, Garrett had become an expert at sex without intimacy. Expert even for a rent-boy. Whore. Fracun, the Marfach had called him. A thing, an object, only valued for how it was used, not for what it was. Lochlann had been furious, but Garrett had just shrugged. That was what he’d been, before Lochlann.
And to hear Lochlann tell it, Fae never got close either, and for some of the same reasons. The only way to be sure you couldn’t be broken was to be damn sure no one ever touched you.
The tip of Lochlann’s tongue traced over his closed eyelids, breaking off Garrett’s thoughts. He was glad. That train of thought never took him anywhere he wanted to go.
“I worried about you. Last night.” He could almost feel Lochlann’s voice, like silk on his skin. Rough silk.
“I’m sorry.” He flushed, opening his eyes. “I actually meant to tell you what happened, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.” He hadn’t made it back to the hotel until just after sunrise, and the decadently soft bed had been way more temptation than he could handle.
Lochlann laughed softly, rolled Garrett onto his back, and pinned the lower half of his naked body to the bed with his own hips. “So tell me now.”
“Vice showed up, about an hour before closing.” Garrett felt his erection softening, and sighed. What happened to Purgatory affected all the Fae, though, and all their human partners. Report first, afternoon delight later. “They sent an undercover cop in first, but Lucien spotted him right away. He always does, I don’t think  Vice has ever gotten anyone past him.”
“What did Tiernan do before he hired Lucien?” Lochlann propped himself up on his elbows, his black hair tumbling down around his face as he studied Garrett. Apparently his lover wasn’t giving up on afternoon delight entirely.
“Nearly got busted a couple of times, I think. Kevin’s a fast talker, though, and it didn’t hurt that he’s a partner at a big-name law firm with some real clout. Fabian, the guy who owned the club before Tiernan, just bought off the cops. Probably put a dozen of their kids through college, just in the years I worked there. But Tiernan refused to work that way.” The new owner had started putting the protection money into improvements in the club. And in the salaries of the dancers.
“So Lucien called in Conall.” Lochlann worked the fingers of one hand into Garrett’s curls and tipped his head back, eyeing his throat speculatively.
“Yeah.” Garrett sucked in a breath between clenched teeth as Lochlann’s hot, soft lips caressed his throat. He’d compared notes with Kevin and Josh, and the humans were all in agreement that Fae never let any business, other than the most serious, interrupt amorous play. They were also all in agreement that that tendency was one of their more attractive features, and one of their most frustrating. “He doesn’t know that’s who he’s calling when he trips the alarm, he thinks it only goes to Tiernan’s office. But Conall showed up right away, down in the cock pit where no one would pay any attention to one more naked guy, and glamoured the cop.” According to Conall, an undercover officer with a see-no-evil channeling on him could stand on the edge of the cock pit and look down, and be convinced he was seeing a dimly lit, semi-private lounging area, with tables set up for drinks and maybe a few guys getting hot and heavy outside the clothes. He could even walk down into the pit, but the channeling didn’t work against physical objects, and things could get interesting if a cop ever tripped over a twink giving a BJ or a writhing mass of leather boys spilling off a sofa. So far, that hadn’t happened.
“So then what happened?” Lochlann started nuzzling right below Garrett’s left ear, his breath warm, his tongue gentle and insistent.
Then I had to stop for a mind-blowing orgasm. Jesus Christ in a rickshaw. Garrett had to pause for a couple of deep breaths before he could go on. “About half an hour before closing, Detective Harding came in.” Purgatory was part of Russ Harding’s bailiwick, had been since just after Tiernan bought the place. and while the Man from V.I.C.E. gave Tiernan props for running what he’d been heard to call a ‘remarkably clean place, considering,’ he was convinced Purgatory was crossing a line somewhere, and that it was his mission to find the line.
Things would be slightly less awkward if he were wrong. Between the “official” goings-on in the cock pit, the occasional freelance ass-rental a few of the dancers still kept up in the dressing room, and the tendency of some of their wealthier and better-connected customers to tip the dancers in designer drugs, there was probably enough action on any given night to keep butch cop Russ Harding busy for a week.
“And Conall took care of him, too.” It wasn’t a question.
“Well… kind of.”
That, unfortunately, brought Lochlann’s head up. “What do you mean, ‘kind of’?”
“When Detective Harding strolled over to the cock pit, he saw Conall. And he saw all of Conall, if you take my meaning.”
“The illusion didn’t work?”
“Apparently not. Conall thinks he just got careless. As soon as Harding said something, Tiernan came up with a distraction, and held his attention long enough to let Conall conjure some clothes, but even that glimpse was enough to put a bug up the cop’s ass. “ Garrett grinned as one of Lochlann’s fingers slipped briefly past his tight entrance. “Brat. Anyway, he went on the prowl, and it became my job to get everyone in the cock pit disentangled, dressed, and on their way out the door before he started to look too closely. Not that he ever actually goes into the pit.”
“And that was your job why?” A frown line appeared between Lochlann’s dark brows.
Garrett nipped his Fae lover’s chin. “Because Tiernan was escorting Harding around and trying to distract him from what he wasn’t supposed to see without looking like he was distracting him, and Conall had his hands full keeping the channeling up given that Harding was acting especially snoopy. I could have used Mac’s help, at least with getting guys out the door without it looking like a scene from fucking Exodus, but his prosthesis was giving him grief early on and Tiernan sent him home.”

GarrettDancing

Firestorm3CoversAd

In which Rian Aodán, kidnapped as an infant out from under the nose of his mother the Queen of the Demesne of Fire in the Fae Realm, is introduced to Purgatory, Washington, D.C.’s hottest all-male club.

Chapter Six

            “You are so fucking lucky I’m forbidden to kill a Fae.” Cuinn could feel the magick thrumming in his hand as he brought it back down to his side, the magick he’d been about to use to stop the heart of whoever had interrupted him.

            Tiernan, the bastard, didn’t so much as twitch. “One of these days, I’m going to remember to ask you just who has the balls to forbid you to do anything. But not right now.” The blond wasn’t really paying attention to Cuinn, his eyes were all for the naked Fae who moments earlier had been daring Cuinn to take what he wanted.

            Daring him. Daring. Him.

            Fuck, yes, he wanted Rian Aodán. Or whatever the hell the Prince Royal had been calling himself for the last twenty-one years. Wanted him badly enough he’d been ready to take him, give him exactly what he wanted without caring who saw. Though he’d paused, just for a heartbeat, as a shiver that wasn’t cold, or even lust, ran through him. Delight. He shivered again, now, remembering it. Fucking addictive. He knew enough to know this was the scair-anam bond at work. Already. Shit. I’m not ready.

            “You can quit staring now, your Lordship.” Or I can sandpaper your eyeballs, he barely managed not to add. SoulShare jealousy. Which he needed right now like he needed a third testicle. In the middle of his forehead. “Lord Tiernan Guaire, of the Demesne of Earth, meet Rian Aodán, Prince Royal of the Demesne of Fire.”

Josh66Happy Valentine’s Day to all, from the Fae and humans of the Demesne of Purgatory. *winks* May your celebrations be as joyous as the boys’!

              Josh tugged at the door, making sure it was locked. No sense staying open late tonight—he’d decided that last night, watching the snow fall and listening to the wind. Which hadn’t a bad thing to do while wrapped up in Conall, but he’d realized that no one with any sense was going to be going anywhere for a while. He’d only had one client booked for tonight, anyway, and the guy was just as happy to cancel.

                He could see the dim light from the window of Big Boy Massage, next door. They were still open, and no doubt catering to the lonely hearts – and other parts – of those Washingtonians not lucky enough to have a date for Valentine’s Day. He was pretty sure, however, that the owner was already home, observing the holiday with Garrett.

                And soon he’d be home himself. He had to step over a pile of snow to get to the door leading up to the apartments over Purgatory, but it was still a damn short commute. He took the stairs two at a time, grinning. All thoughts of ice and snow were soon going to vanish.

                He knocked to deactivate the ward Conall had put on the door, and opened the door. A wave of incredible, amazing, mouth-watering scent instantly washed over him, leaving him dizzy and remembering he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

                What the hell? Conall didn’t cook, though he was a great one for ordering out. But this was no take-out smell.

                Conall appeared in the kitchen doorway, a pink ruffled apron over his usual jeans. “You’re a little early, dar’cion.” His smile, as always, left Josh feeling weak in the knees. “But that’s all right, dinner is too.”

                Bemused, Josh let Conall lead him to their tiny dining table and pull out a chair. A wave of the mage’s hand lit candles, and another dimmed the lights.

                “D’orant, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble!” He craned his neck, trying in vain to see into the kitchen. “How did you find a place that would deliver today? In all this snow?”

                “Bite your tongue. Or better yet, let me. But not until you’ve had dinner.”  Conall bent and brushed a kiss across Josh’s cheek, then disappeared into the kitchen before Josh could so much as take his hand to pull him in for more.

                Josh glanced around, as clanking sounds came from the kitchen. “There’s only one place set.”

                “Nothing gets by you.” Light Fae laughter floated in from the kitchen, followed by the laughing Fae, carrying a small plate. He set it down in front of Josh, with a flourish.

                Josh stared down at three scallops, seared golden on their tops, on a bed of saffron rice, drizzled with a rich golden sauce and garnished with what looked like mint leaves.  “You… made this?”

                “I did. And you might want to start eating, it’s much better hot.”

                Conall vanished back into the kitchen, and Josh did as he was told, groaning as the sweet scallop melted in his mouth. My mouth has died and gone to Heaven.

                He heard chopping sounds coming from the kitchen as he polished the plate with the last of the rice. This time when Conall emerged, he was carrying a salad plate, piled with arugula and green-skinned apples and fennel, sprinkled with walnuts and smelling something like… gin? Crushed juniper berries, good Lord. “Conall…”

                This time a hand rested on the back of his neck as Conall set the salad plate down, and Josh’s skin tingled at the touch. As always. His hand was unsteady as he picked up the second fork. “Where in God’s name did you get juniper berries in a blizzard?”

                Again the light laughter. “I cheated a little and made them myself. Took a few tries to get the flavor right.”

                Josh couldn’t keep back his own laughter, at the thought of the mightiest mage in two worlds, standing at the kitchen counter, creating strange-tasting juniper berries out of nothing. Obedient to Conall’s gesture, he forked a bite of the salad and fought to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head.

                Conall smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I can’t believe I forgot the wine.” Once again he hurried into the kitchen; the refrigerator door opened and closed, glass clinked, and he re-emerged with a bottle of white wine – and, Josh noted with relief, two glasses.

                “I have no idea if this even goes with seafood.” Conall set the glasses down and concentrated until the cork popped free. “I know nothing about wine. Human wine, anyway. I could tell you a thing or two about Fae vintages—“

                “Conall.”  Josh caught at his partner’s wrist, his hand making it look slight. “What else are you dishing up tonight?”

                The red-blond Fae colored slightly. “Lobster Newburg, when you’re done with the salad. Dessert’s not really fancy, it’s tiramisu—“

                “My favorite.” Josh set the fork down firmly and looked up into Conall’s bright green eyes. “D’orant, where did you learn… all this?”

                Conall worried his lip between his teeth for a second before answering. “In the Realm. Cooking, there, is something Fae usually do by hand only when there are a lot of mouths to be fed. A feast, or the dining room in a public house. It’s easier to do it with magick, and the results are limited only by a Fae’s imagination.”

                Josh detected a quiver in Conall’s voice. “Should I not have asked?”

                “No, no, it’s all right.” Conall’s slender fingers played with one of the ruffles on his apron. “I never dared to cook that way.”

                Of course not. Conall’s channeling ability was so strong, the slightest use of it in the realm had sucked the life from everything around him.

                “So…” Conall sighed. “I got very, very good at this kind of cooking. And I haven’t done it since I came here because…” He swallowed hard. “It reminds me of how alone I was, for so long.”

                “Oh, God.” Josh pushed back from the table just enough to let him draw Conall onto his lap. “Baby, you didn’t have to do this for me.” He placed a kiss in the shell of his partner’s ear. He’d felt funny calling Conall ‘baby’ at first. But the Fae enjoyed it, so Josh had gotten over it.

                “Yes, I did. Today, I had to.”

                “Why today? Just because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

                Conall took such a long time to answer that Josh started to wonder if he was going to.  And when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, unsteady. “Cuinn calls me a horndog, when he’s not calling me Twinklebritches. And he’s right. But you and I know why he’s right.”

                “So does Cuinn,” Josh growled. The other Fae knew perfectly well that before being exiled to the human world, Conall had never dared let another Fae touch him for pleasure, or for love, for fear of what his unleashed, unchecked magick might do. Not in three hundred years. It made Josh’s heart hurt, just thinking about it.

                Conall nodded. “I’m not apologizing for it. But it seems to me…” Another long pause. “It seems to me that every time I try to tell you, or show you, how much I love you, the horndog comes out, and it ends up more like’ ‘I lust you.’”

                The Fae turned, an effervescent tear making its way down his cheek before evaporating. “I thought maybe that if I tried to say it this way, it would come out the way I wanted it to for once.”

                Josh closed his arms around Conall, drawing his lover into a tight embrace. “Oh, baby, oh love.” He whispered, murmured, kissing Conall’s ear. “D’orant.” ‘Impossible’… hell yes, it was impossible that he held a male like this in his arms. “You say it every time you look at me. Every time you touch me. Every time you walk in my dreams and I wake up wrapped around you.”

                Conall pulled back a little, and looked into Josh’s eyes, as if trying to read his mind. “I want to say it this way, too.” Slowly, he smiled, the smile that never failed to make Josh’s heart race. “I love you. And I’m going to feed you until you can’t move, and then I’m going to have my way with you.”

                “It’ll be my way, too, baby. I promise you that.”

One-Stop Shopping

It occurs to me that I haven’t posted sales links to all my books for a while… so without further ado, here’s the list — including the two anthologies I’ve contributed to, Evernight 2 and Dangerous Curves!

Heart of the Oak for Kindle — http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Oak-Boys-Will-ebook/dp/B00FBF4XIY/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1380206135&sr=1-4&keywords=Heart+of+the+Oak

Heart of the Oak for Nook — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heart-of-the-oak-rory-ni-coileain/1116996454?ean=9781419948145

Heart of the Oak for Kobo — http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/heart-of-the-oak

Heart of the Oak, All Romance eBooks — https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-heartoftheoak-1374595-340.html

Deep Plunge for Kindle (US) — http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Plunge-SoulShares-ebook/dp/B00EV7OAYU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377825393&sr=1-1&keywords=Deep+Plunge+Rory+Ni+Coileain

Deep Plunge, Ravenous Romance — http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/deep-plunge-soulshares-number-iii.php

Deep Plunge, All Romance eBooks — https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-deepplunge-1271533-145.html

Deep Plunge, Barnes & Noble (Nook) — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deep-plunge-rory-ni-coileain/1116795221?ean=2940148572602

Deep Plunge, Kobo — http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/deep-plunge

Deep Plunge for Kindle (UK) — http://www.amazon.co.uk/Deep-Plunge-SoulShares-ebook/dp/B00EV7OAYU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1378063082&sr=1-1&keywords=Deep+Plunge+Rory+Ni+Coileain

Gale Force for Kindle (US) — http://www.amazon.com/Gale-Force-Soulshares-ebook/dp/B00BSEDKB8/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1363476525&sr=8-3&keywords=Gale+Force

Gale Force for Kindle (UK) — http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gale-Force-Soulshares-ebook/dp/B00BSEDKB8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363112251&sr=8-1

Gale Force, trade paperback, Amazon — http://www.amazon.com/Gale-Force-Soulshares-Volume-2/dp/160777934X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1375935343&sr=8-1&keywords=Gale+Force+Rory+Ni+Coileain

Gale Force, Ravenous Romance — http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/gale-force.php

Gale Force, All Romance eBooks — https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hardasstone-977359-143.html

Gale Force, Barnes & Noble (Nook) — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gale-force-rory-ni-coileain/1114819137?ean=2940016296111

Gale Force, Kobo — http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Gale-Force/book-Lcg0U_igUUyXOsufiKIvPQ/page1.html?s=GakQctslHkqvHH3JsFY8JQ&r=3

Gale Force, Angus & Robertson (Australia!) — http://www.angusrobertson.com.au/ebook/gale-force/40329536/

Gale Force, Amazon (Kindle) Germany — http://www.amazon.de/Gale-Force-Soulshares-ebook/dp/B00BSEDKB8

Hard as Stone for Kindle — http://www.amazon.com/Hard-as-Stone-ebook/dp/B009SX91JQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1355285138&sr=8-1&keywords=hard+as+stone+rory+ni+coileain

Hard as Stone, trade paperback, Amazon — http://www.amazon.com/Hard-as-Stone-Rory-Coileain/dp/1607779293/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1363476804&sr=1-1&keywords=hard+as+stone+rory+ni+coileain

Hard as Stone for Nook — http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hard-as-stone-rory-ni-coileain/1113526804?ean=2940015530766

Hard as Stone, Kobo — http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Hard-As-Stone/book-06D0J5iMoEOk2FwhYFWLnQ/page1.html?s=1sR8MxtCREeacsxkHGm4gQ&r=2

Hard as Stone at Ravenous Romance’s Web site — http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/hard-as-stone.php

Hard as Stone at Fictionwise — http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b135271/Hard-as-Stone/Rory-Ni-Coileain/?si=0

Evernight, Vol. 2 (anthology) for Kindle — http://www.amazon.com/Evernight-Vol-2-ebook/dp/B009LLZHX4/ref=pd_sim_kstore_2

Dangerous Curves (anthology) for Kindle (writing as Susan Swann) — http://www.amazon.com/Dangerous-Curves-Stories-Voluptuous-ebook/dp/B007ZE2H2S/ref=sr_1_18?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1355285356&sr=1-18&keywords=Dangerous+Curves

New year, new series — here’s a bit (unedited, of course!) from tonight’s work on Chapter 3 of Blowing Smoke. The Broken Pattern books pick up at the end of Firestorm (SoulShares #4), and I suppose the series title is a tiny bit of  a spoiler…

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Twinklebritches? And aren’t you up early?”
“Who says I’ve been to bed?” Conall was out of breath, and a little hoarse.
“Well, I suppose it could have been the kitchen table, or the sofa, or the middle of the dining room floor, but my money’s on the bed.”
Rian appeared in the bedroom doorway, grinning broadly and then pantomiming the insertion of a ball gag. Cuinn waved him off.
“Shows what you know, we were up on the roof.” The mage sounded not the least bit apologetic–he had three hundred years of involuntary celibacy to make up for, and he didn’t really care who knew it. “But we came down because I noticed something I thought you and the Prince might like to know, and I needed my phone. Didn’t want to give you an inferiority complex by Fading in unannounced.”
Rian’s smirk was almost too much for Cuinn to bear. You’re begging for a paddling. The thought was accompanied by narrowed eyes and pursed lips, though a true pout was more than he could manage at the moment.
Shite, I thought I was going to have to engrave you an invitation.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Cuinn’s comment to Conall was almost an afterthought.
He could almost hear the mage’s spring-green eyes rolling. “Look, I can always go back to what we were doing. Josh and I are learning yoga, and there are uses for a Sun Salutation undreamt of in your philosophy.” Low laughter sounded in the background; it always struck Cuinn as strange that the easy-going Josh took such delight in Conall’s randy nature. “But I just picked up on a disturbance in the Pattern, and you did say you wanted to know if that happened.”

A Tale from the Grove

In celebration of… oh, lots of things. The upcoming release of Heart of the Oak (the first of the Tales of the Grove), the fantastic reviews it’s been getting (which if I were a little more tech-savvy I could celebrate with a copy of the “Top Pick” icon on Susan Mac Nicol’s five-star review at The Romance Reviews), my sister’s incredible homemade cheesecake at Thanksgiving dinner. All that. So I thought I’d give you a peek at the (unedited) work in progress, Tempted from the Oak — the second of the Tales of the Grove. The POV is Tearlach’s — he’s a Gille Dubh, the animating spirit of a darag, an ancient oak tree in the Scottish Highlands. Enjoy!

  Gavin lies on the ground, his back against the darag, and against me, looking up at the Moon. I run my hand lightly over his head. I cannot get enough of the strange sensation of short hair under my palm; it tickles, it makes me want to laugh.
I have never seen hair this short. I bend to kiss the top of his head, and this time I do laugh, at the way it feels against my lips, kiss-tender for the first time in centuries. Is there a reason for it?
I can feel his shoulders stiffen where he leans against me. Should I not have asked?
He shakes his head, leaning a little into the hand that has dropped to lie along his cheek, as if to tell me not to worry. “Nothing wrong with asking.”
    His voice is so different from the ones I heard in my old life, if it were not for the fortunate accident of his blood against the root of the tree I think I would be completely lost in listening to him. Happily so. If you would rather not answer…
“It’s all right. It just seems out of place here.’ He turns, partly, to look up into my eyes, my face emerged from the darag, and I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips. “It was nearly to my shoulders until yesterday. But my roommate–the man I live with–likes it long.”
    Something, perhaps my heart, plummets. Pleasure and joy and delight are gifts meant to be given and received, but I will never knowingly interfere with a pair-bond. How can I, when such a bond is my life? You mean, he likes it short, yes? I pull my hand back within the darag.
“No. He likes it long. But he has the attention span of a mayfly on meth, and he decided to get back at me for needing to work the night of our five-month anniversary by bringing a new guy home with him. So I like it short. Juvenile of me, I suppose, but…” He shrugs, and his attention . “I’d rather not talk about him. Not here.”
    Some of his words are beyond my understanding, even with our shared blood. But the pain I hear in his voice, that I understand, even though he tries to pretend not to care. I reach for him again, stroking his cheek. Let us talk about something else, then.
His hand closes around mine, and even such a hesitant smile as he turns on me is enough to send a thrill racing down to the very tips of my darag’s roots. “I’d rather not talk at all. If you’re willing. A dream can only last so long.”
You are not dreaming, I whisper yet again, as he turns to me and takes my mouth. But I fear I may be.