Gay Contemporary and Paranormal Romance

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Soul Seekers #1


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Copyright JC Wallace 2014

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. 

Welcome to the first installment of Soul Seekers (working title). My previous story Diventando: Becoming has been pulled so I can prep it for publication. I will let you know in the future a date of publication. 



#1
Levi Reed paced his bedroom, frantically shaking his hands. Like a caged animal yearning for escape, he wore the same tread across the blue shag rug repeatedly. Waves of fear lashed out, tearing into his mind, forcing his attention. He paused pacing, stopping momentarily to jump up and down, as if the action were enough to shake the icy grip of panic. No such luck and he resumed pacing. The terror threatened to drown him beneath suffocating waves. Since that morning, the menace had been growing from a deep crevice within his mind. At first, it was just a small grain, barely detectable. By midday, that small grain had coalesced into the familiar companion that had accompanied him for his nineteen years of life, which rarely resting.

“Think,” he commanded, the sound of his voice doing little to settle his nerves. The time for tricks of distraction and deception had past. He was well into the throws of this nightmare. Fear, greater than any human should ever know, threatened his sanity. He cursed his ingrained weakness. Too weak for a man.

“You’re safe,” he said aloud, repeating the mantra several times, but the words were a hollow attempt at self-reassurance. “Come on Levi. Cut this shit out.”

Grasping his icy hands together and rubbing, he fought to to formulate a plan. Yes, a plan, he thought, but the adrenalin pumping through his veins forced thoughts to whirl about quickly. Clamping his eyes shut, he bent at the waist until his eyes were level with his knees. The action accentuated the racing beats of his heart, clamped beneath the ever-tightening muscles of his chest. The tighter they squeezed, the faster and harder his heart muscle pumped. Any minute, he imagined his heart would win and shatter his ribs into a million sharp, bony pieces.

Will-power was the only weapon he had against this enemy—sheer determination to keep up his defenses. Achingly, his mind continued to battle the ever-surging breakwaters threatening to overcome their dam. A dam he’d built in mind just to contain the fear, which, if allowed to overcome him, would shred his sanity into tiny reflective bits that would echo who he once was. His psyche had yet to smash but did bore endless, jagged cracks that had weakened its structure. Just a matter of time.

Not now. Not this time! His mind screamed at the unseen adversary.

“Focus! Breathe!”

Steadying himself, Levi gripped his knees with his hands, digging his nails into his skin through his sweatpants, the pain faint and distance. Crushing pain seared his chest as he forced a deep breath into his lungs and held it. “One…two…,” he muttered, fighting to keep the air from escaping prematurely, “three.” With strained control, he steadily allowed the air to escape. Quickly, he drew in another breath and repeated the pattern several times. His attention focused solely on this one last act to stop the panic, but he was interrupted by a noise.

A closing door. Footsteps in the hallway. The thin hollow core door to his room was the only barrier. Levi bolted upright. The walls of the room slanted and tipped. A surge of dizziness threatened to topple him. The footsteps pausing at his door brought reality crashing down. Everyone should be asleep. The distraction was 
the only pause his panic needed.

With unnerving ferocity, the fear breached his mental dam, forcing itself through fractures within the blockade. Panic pushed the release of adrenalin higher. His heart froze momentarily in his chest as the hormone invaded. Levi gasped and slapped his palm against his sternum. “No!” he cried.  The absence of the familiar thud pushed his fear past the edge of reason. Just as he thought his heart would never beat again, it exploded into beats faster than he could count. Numbness crept into the nerves of his right arm and leg. The sound of rushing blood roared in his ears.

Levi spun around as the door to his room opened. “Please, no,” he managed to utter.

Levi’s brother entered casually, looking down to kick something blocking the door. A blue NY Giants ball cap shielded his eyes from the overhead light. “I saw the light on and knocked but you didn’t…” As Logan raised his head, the last word caught in his throat. “Levi?”  Alarm replaced the relaxed smile on his face. 

Quickly, quietly, he closed the door behind him, his eyes never wavering from Levi. “It’s bad this time?” Part question but mostly a statement.

The twist of fear and panic on Levi’s face was a dead giveaway.

The sight of his brother rushing around the bed towards him, the determination of his stride, the familiar mask of worry on his older brother’s face took any fight Levi had left. Surrender was his only option now. Clawing at his throat, Levi could barely manage to whisper, “I…can’t…breathe!”

The tightening in Levi's chest rose to envelop his windpipe. Air was everywhere but none of the oxygen seemed to reach his screaming lungs.


I’m dying, he rationalized, or worse.

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Check out the other flashers below!





Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Tease Me Thursday!

Welcome to another week of Tease Me Thursday! Here we show you 7 - seven words, seven sentences, or seven paragraphs. Read my snippet and then check out the other authors on the hop!

This is from my short story Pink Lace and Stolen Hearts, which is the story I wrote for the Goodreads’ Love’s Landscape event. First, read the beautiful prompt I chose and see the picture that came with it.


Prompt and Picture

Dear Author,

This is my roommate and best friend, Greg. He’s been depressed, and maybe even suicidal, ever since his boyfriend found out that he likes to wear feminine underwear, especially the sheer styles like the one in the picture above. He was so in love with that loser. He even told me that he was holding off from having sex until they got to know one another, because he wanted it to be perfect. He’s old-fashioned that way— a history major who’s enthralled with the history of dating and romantic relationships throughout the centuries. He believed he could find his own Prince Charming and have a Happily Ever After romance. Because he’s a bit embarrassed and unsure of himself about his underwear fetish, he’d always wear “tighty whities” when he was with Simon, or Simple Simon as I like to call him in my mind. Why Simon never questioned that a flamboyant gay man like Greg would wear simple white briefs, I’ll never know. 

When Greg started to feel comfortable in their relationship, and was ready to go all the way, he finally got up the nerve to wear his favorite pair of undies—a silky smooth, sheer lace, pink bikini with tiny embroidered roses. He was hoping to please Simon, but when he saw them, Simon became enraged, smacking Greg in the face, calling him sick, and storming out the door.

Now, there’s Greg standing at the railing, looking at nothing in particular, lost, forlorn, sad, all the things that I don’t want him to be. I love him— as a friend, and maybe even more, though I’ve never told him. I’m straight, at least I think I am, but when I first saw him in a pair of pretty powder blue panties, I swear my heart skipped a beat, and I think I even drooled a little. My reaction made me question my own sexuality, but I haven’t explored anything further with him. I’m happy that he trusted me enough to reveal his secret to me, but now my heart is broken for him due to Simon’s rejection.

Greg is so special, so wonderful, please dear author, give him a love story, even if it can’t be with me. He deserves to find happiness with someone who loves him unconditionally and appreciates all the facets of his personality.

Sincerely,

Barb ~rede-2-read~



Excerpt from Pink Lace and Stolen Hearts


My gaze was plastered on that black sheer fabric encasing a perfectly round ass. This was so unfair. For months, I’d struggled, wishing away those thoughts and feelings, trying to ignore how my body reacted to memories of Greg in those fucking panties, yet here he was sporting another pair—another mouthwatering pair. My hands itched to touch that sheer material, longed to run my hands over his warm skin, and that wasn’t right. I didn’t think being gay was wrong. To me love was love, but I wasn’t gay. I just wasn’t.

Suddenly, Greg turned, as if he’d sensed I was there, and I caught a glimpse of the pink pouch of the thong cradling his package. The only thing that came to mind seeing his hard, lean body was “beautiful.” I thought a man was beautiful. No, I thought Greg was beautiful.

When I caught sight of Greg’s face, tears readily rolling down his cheeks, all thoughts of him in those sheer underwear fled. A red mark covered his cheek, bright and highly visible despite the hazy, grey light of the room. Instead of feeling discomfort over seeing those tears, I felt enraged.

“What the fuck?” I growled and rushed to him, unable to avoid scowling. As I neared, he ducked his head, his shoulders quaking, the muscles of his stomach contracting with each jagged inhale and exhale.

Putting my hand under his chin, I gently raised his head. His eyes, desperate for something—I wasn't sure exactly what—searched my face.

“What happened?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea what with Simon missing.

With those words, he crumbled before me, sobbing gasps, his anguish so palpable I felt it in my very cells. He looked so lost, arms wrapped tight around his chest, shaking and so ready to fragment.

Check back for an update of when this story will be available!




Wednesday Briefs #27 Diventando: Becoming


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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 lowered his head, remembering that day in the hospital hallway when Turk had aimed the gun at his head. Turk could have had his revenge and ended the demon responsible for killing his father. Instead, he’d chosen to save Owen, had chosen to find a way to rid him of the demon. Turk had turned his back on hundreds of years of tradition, on duty and honor and on his family’s vengeance and chosen Owen, at least for now. That was a decision Owen couldn’t ever let Turk regret. Owen could either continue to believe he was better off dead or accept the monumental sacrifice Turk had made in saving him. When Owen decided to honor Turk’s efforts, something foreign bloomed in his chest closely resembling hope.

“If there’s any chance to change this, to get this demon out of me and keep me whole and alive, I’ll take it. I’ve had a death sentence over my head for so long that I have no clue what it’s like to actually live without it.” What would a life be like without the daily fear of a disease that was slowly destroying his body or the threat of that disease fighting its way out of remission? Was that even possible?

“Wayne said they thought you had leukemia.”

Owen snorted. “I thought I had leukemia. I was told I had some form of leukemia that kept coming back. I’m not sure what the rest of my family thought.” But that wasn’t totally true. The Incubus had shown him the past where his mother had spoken with Dr. Celo about the Incubus and...

“Exorcism,” Owen said his tone of excitement raising Turk’s brow.

“Yes. Like I’ve said it’s rumored to be possible—”

“No, I heard about the exorcism from my mother.”

Turk dropped his arms, his face showing his confusion. “Your mother?”

Owen nodded surprised by his enthusiasm. Turk had “heard” of the possibility of exorcism, a rumor, something that had never added up, but Owen didn’t have the luxuries for maybes or possibilities. However, Dr. Celo had mentioned the exorcism in that memory which Owen had thought the demon conjured. Apparently, that had been an actual memory. Hearing the same information twice from more than one person increased the likelihood of its truth, right?

“I don’t know how but the Incubus showed me something from my past. I was in the clinic. I have no clue which time since I’ve been there many times when my illness...” Fuck, not illness. Dr. Celo knew about the Incubus, his mother knew, and while they were working to help him they could have told him the truth, should have fucking told him. “...whenever I needed medication. Anyway, my mother and Dr. Celo were talking in my room. I don’t remember this happening but, then again, generally by the time I needed to go to the clinic I was really sick.”

Turk rested his hand on Owen’s shoulder and Owen smiled, grateful that Turk saw that he was still there despite a demon that’d killed his father living inside of him.

“They were whispering and Dr. Celo said that they needed to do something more or he feared my body eventually would shut down. My mother asked him about someone in South America who might be able to an exorcism.”

“Dr. Celo’s records indicate he was continually working on more effective ways to stop the Incubus from emerging. Each time you were ill, those were times when the formula he’d come up with would start to have negative side effects on your body, making you really sick.”

“This was all in the records I had sent to the hospital?”

Turk nodded.

“I guess I should have read them.” Owen chuckled. “My friend Drew hacked Dr. Celo’s computer and downloaded the files. He printed them for me and sent them to Dr. Noel for my appointment. Guess Drew didn’t read them either.”

“Dr. Noel knew of the secret research happening at the hospital into non-human entities and shared the information with the director. Apparently, you’d used your mother’s address. They had people staking out your house since those records arrived but you were nowhere to be found apparently. When you send idiots to do a job...” He shook his head. “Anyway I think we need to talk with your mother and Dr. Celo.”

My gut clenched at the thought of seeing my mother, confronting her. I nodded slowly, as a wave of fatigue washed over my body, my mind ready to shut down from overload. Despite that, one thought, though sent my heart racing.

“How long is this medication going to work?”

Turk looked away, and Owen saw him swallow several times before he looked back. “Each time the Incubus has come forth, he’s gained strength. Each time he will need less energy to take over and...”

“How long Turk?” Owen asked forcefully. He needed the truth no matter how crappy that truth was.

“From the tests they ran, they estimated about a month.”

Owen chewed on his bottom lip. “A month from now or a month from when I started getting the drug?”

“When you first got it.”

Fuck that meant he only had about two weeks left — maybe. Two weeks to find some rumored priestess who may or may not be somewhere in South America. Suddenly, his odds had dropped drastically.

When Turk wrapped his arms around Owen and pulled him close, Owen laid his head on Turk’s chest, reveling in the warmth soaking into his body. He couldn’t explain how right being in Turk’s arms felt, how safe.

“I’ve called in some favors from some powerful people. Let’s just say they aren’t the most upstanding of humans beings however, they owe me, and I believe they can help us to locate this priestess. I can tell you that she does exist and one of my sources has possibly pinpointed her location but she is not in South America. She’s in Jamaica. But as to the claim she can exorcise the demon? That truth has yet to be proven.”

More hope welled in Owen’s gut, pooling and rising and this time he allowed the expansion.

Turk touched Owen’s chin and prompted him to look up. What Owen saw at that moment, in that beautiful face, caught his breath. No one in his twenty-seven years had ever looked at him with such caring or longing...or love?  “I promise with everything that I have and everything that I am, I will find this person and get that asshole out of you.”

Turk leaned down and kissed Owen, slowly and gently, the kiss sealing his vow.

 

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Check out the other flashers this week.

Nephylim
MA Church
Chris T. Kat
Grace Duncan
Lily Sawyer
Cia Nordwell
Shelly Schulz
Sarah Hayes
Elyzabeth VaLey
Andrew Q. Gordon
Tali Spencer

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Mia Kerick is here today with the Us Three Blog Tour!

Description:
A Harmony Ink Press Young Adult Title
In his junior year at a public high school, sweet, bright Casey Minton’s biggest worry isn’t being gay. Keeping from being too badly bullied by his so-called friends, a group of girls called the Queen Bees, is more pressing. Nate De Marco has no friends, his tough home life having taken its toll on his reputation, but he’s determined to get through high school. Zander Zane’s story is different: he’s popular, a jock. Zander knows he’s gay, but fellow students don’t, and he’d like to keep it that way.
 No one expects much when these three are grouped together for a class project, yet in the process the boys discover each other’s talents and traits, and a new bond forms. But what if Nate, Zander, and Casey fall in love—each with the other and all three together? Not only gay but also a threesome, for them high school becomes infinitely more complicated and maybe even dangerous. To survive and keep their love alive, they must find their individual strengths and courage and stand together, honest and united. If they can do that, they might prevail against the Queen Bees and a student body frightened into silence—and even against their own crippling fears.

Book Links:
 

Excerpt
 
zanderZ@catchme.com

Danny-

Two e-mails, two nights in a row—this is a fucking record for me, huh? Well, I’ve got some shit weighing on my mind. Need an objective viewpoint. Seriously, I can’t go to my buds at school. They only see things one way. And it’s not necessarily my way.

Remember Mrs. Phelps from the French department? Well, she teaches Survey of French, and overall, she’s pretty cool, but she doesn’t take any crap from her students. So today she put us into groups for our French project, which makes up like a full third of our grades so it’s nothing to sneeze at, you know? Somehow I got stuck with this giant oaf of a kid named Nate DeMarco, who basically never says “boo” but just glares at everybody, so I have no idea if he’s going to contribute at all or just shove us up against a wall and tell us to get the job done for him, or else. And you know how I told you about that superbrain, Casey Minton, the kid who all the girls rag on? I got stuck in a group with him, too, which is good for the letter grade but sucks for… for about every other reason.

Those girls, Liz Trainer, Elly Warren, and Marcy Lewis (yeah, from the “Fighting Lewis Brothers”—she’s their baby sister) wanted Casey in their group because he’d carry their weight in the project so they could goof off for the next few weeks, but Mrs. Phelps had her own ideas. She stuck each of the girls into separate groups, and put Casey with Nate and me. So the girls were pissed; they could see that their big Survey of French class party was over before it had even begun. And shit, they tore the kid a new one, never stopping for the next thirty minutes, as if he’d been the one to divide the class into groups. They loud-whispered stuff like, “You better cover your ass, Zander, if you want to keep it dry, because Casey’s gonna be drooling all over it,” and “If Casey suggests a sleepover to work on the project, you better wear your ass-chastity belt,” and “Since it is a French project, if you sit too close to him, the little homo might try to French kiss you and call it part of the project.” You get the picture. It was ugly. And yours truly got caught in the cross fire.

Yeah, wah, wah, poor me.

I’m pretty sure the kid wanted to keel over and die. After about half the class was over, he turned kinda red, raised his hand, and then asked if he could go to the nurse. Which left Nate DeMarco and me sitting there, gawking at each other, with absolutely nada to say about our topic, French cooking. And we need to have a proposal all laid out for Mrs. Phelps by Friday. Just shit, right?

Casey Minton had better get his ass to school tomorrow or I’m up Shit creek, no paddle in sight.

>>>NEED ADVICE NOW>>>

ZZ




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About the Author:
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
My themes I always write about:
Sweetness. Unconventional love, tortured/damaged heroes- only love can save them.
 
Author Links:
 
 Enter the tour giveaway!
 Prizes


(50 by 60 inch) Us Three Book Cover Blanket
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