by Caitlin Ricci
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-524-0 (Electronic)
ISBN-13: 978-1-61124-847-0 (Paperback)
AVAILABLE DECEMBER 01, 2013!
Detective Jamison Landry knew his job was never going to be easy. He’s dealt with the worst criminals imaginable and believes in his work and the community he serves. But he’s never met someone quite like Mal before.
The mysterious man, rescued from a basement in which he was chained by cultists, keeps Jamison guessing, both confuses and excites him, and Jamison isn’t sure how he feels about that. Plus, things turn from unusual to downright strange when people start insisting Mal isn’t quite human. And Jamison’s creepy dreams of crows and graveyards don’t make things any better for him.
Will Mal stay around long enough for Jamison to figure out his secrets, even learn his full name, or will this stranger leave him aching for more?
Genres: Gay / Dark Fantasy / Horror
Heat Level: 1
Length: Extended Novel (85k words / TBD paperback pages)
Read what the reviewers are saying... “...Starts off with a creepy and unsettling tone that does not let up through the entire novel...Recommended for readers who like a little twist in their paranormal books.”--Lasha's Paranormal M/M Reviews
“4 Stars!...Introduces intriguing characters which I hope to see more of in the future. Ricci has developed the relationship between the two major characters more from a psychological standpoint than an erotic one. I don't want to spoil it so I can't say too much more. If you like Ms. Ricci already, you will want to read this. If you are unfamiliar with her work, this will introduce you to her voice.”--Jordan Brewer, GoodReads
Read a short excerpt...
...Jamison wasn’t surprised when Stewart returned with a pair of flip-flops and a black tee.
“Thank you,” Mal said, his voice sounding almost gentle despite the edge Jamison heard laced behind it. If he wasn’t crazy then something seriously wrong was going on here. Everyone was acting nuts. Carter’s demon theory was starting to have some merit. Too bad Jamison didn’t believe in such nonsense. It would explain a lot, though. If only he thought demons were anything more than made up creatures in horror movies.
He sat, staring numbly as Mal got dressed. Stewart backed up, giving the smaller man room as he put on the T-shirt.
“You know,” Stewart said, his voice going soft, “you remind me of someone.”
Mal paused, his arms falling to his sides. “Oh really? Who?”
Stewart shook his head and moved back even farther. “Zachary,” he hissed, spinning around and stumbling over a nearby chair in his rush back to his office.
“Who?” Mal turned to Jamison.
He shook his head, giving up on trying to make sense of the day. “His son. He committed suicide in the eighties after he hit someone with his car while he was high. The woman died in the hospital the day before he hung himself.”
Mal grabbed his hand and pulled, bringing Jamison reluctantly to his feet. “Strange that I’d remind him of such a person. Well, come on. Let’s go. Where are you taking me?”
Jamison sighed and gathered his things. He locked up his desk drawers and put away his pens. “Sure, we’re going, Mal.”
“You aren’t going to argue anymore?” Mal asked, sounding surprised.
“Nothing about today is making any sense. So, yeah, we’re going to dinner. I’m tired of trying to understand what the hell is going on.”
Mal giggled and shot Jamison a playful grin. “You said ‘hell.’”
“Yeah, I did. And you getting excited over such a stupid figure of speech is equally weird. So come on, let’s get going. Maybe after a beer and some mindless TV this day will go away.” He picked up his keys and led Mal out of the station.
“You want everything about today to be gone?” Mal asked once they’d reached Jamison’s car.
He nodded. “Ever since we stepped into the house where you were being kept and came downstairs to find you hidden under a sheet, something has been really off about today.” He unlocked the doors and slid inside. “Maybe taking tonight off really will be for the best. At least my head should be clearer in the morning. I’ve got this headache that keeps coming in and out. Never had anything like it before. Hopefully some sleep will help.”
Mal put on his seat belt and bit his bottom lip.
Though Jamison was relieved he didn’t have to argue with the man over something as simple as buckling up again today, he still felt the need to tease him. “What? You’re not going to try to get out of it again?”
“Would it have worked this time?” he replied, sounding sullen.
Jamison shook his head. “Not in a million years. You ride with me, you wear your seat belt. I had the highest number of tickets written for that offense three months in a row when I was a traffic cop.”
Mal sighed. “I only have so much energy, Jamison. Fighting with you on something so petty would be meaningless.”
He frowned. “It’s not as meaningless as you may think, Mal. People die every day because they don’t wear theirs.”
“People die all the time regardless of what they do or don’t do, detective. You know this. The world could be perfectly calm and simple and people would still find ways to die and reasons to kill each other.”
Jamison turned and started the car. He was growing tired of dealing with Mal. Too bad the captain hadn’t let him hand the man off to victim’s services. “You’re far too young to be this jaded.”
Mal laughed, though there was no joy in the sound. “You know nothing about me, Jamison. You can’t even begin to understand who I am, and so there’s no point in you making such general assumptions like that because, believe me, you’re going to be wrong about me every damn time you try to figure me out.”
Jamison laughed. He couldn’t help it. “That’s some ego you’ve got on you there.”
With a snort, Mal turned toward the window and pressed his forehead against the glass...