QSFer Baron Frosti has a new MM paranormal story out:
Peter can’t remember. Like stars twinkling out of existence at dawn, his memories fade. Only in his dreams can he see the dark, violent events that have imprisoned him for centuries. A chance encounter with a stranger named Ian leads him down a path of no return, an escape, and a chance to be free. Peter risks everything he knows – and so much he cannot recall – to quench his thirst for love and break the chains which bind him to the creature who holds the keys to his past.
Blood Dreams Book One
Blood Dreams are serial paranormal MM romance short stories released in episodic format. Each installment in the series picks up after the previous. The first is now available for pre-order.
The dream began with shoes. More precisely, the ribbons which held the shoes on his feet had come loose during the struggle. He had to make haste. And stealth. He stopped for a moment in the dark hall and kicked the shoes off his feet. He picked them up. They were beautiful shoes. Dark blue with an embroidered gold floral pattern. Metallic copper paint adorned the heels. They glinted in the low light. There were no scuffs. Scuffed shoes would not be allowed here.
He plodded along the edge of the hallway in his stockinged feet. He ran one hand along the wall to keep himself steady, grounded. The wall was cold and smooth.
His mind flashed back to earlier in the evening. The glittering chandeliers, the dancing crowds, and the loud orchestra. There was much strong liquor and fake laughter. He and Hector were strangers here. They were on the run again. Escaping something terrible. A war? A town mob? A crafty enemy? Hector hadn’t shared the details. They’d arrived here only a few days before. Hector had used his glamor powers to secure them a place to stay. He’d found fast money and a fancy wardrobe which helped them blend. It hadn’t taken him long to secure an invitation to an elegant evening soirée.
They hadn’t come to this party to hunt. Hector was strategizing, making connections. He had been busy with the men in the heavy wigs and brocade overcoats. Peter had wandered around the crowd, like a lost child. He smiled, chatted, played his part.
Peter had too much to drink and found a quiet corner to rest. To lean. A small man in a tight white wig approached.
“Sir? Might I be of service?” It was a servant. “Might I help you to your room?”
“Yes, that would be kind,” Peter said.
The man put his arm around Peter’s torso. The servant’s touch jolted him. His halfling senses awoke and began to read the man. The guests’ rooms were on the fourth floor. The man pulled and supported Peter up, up, up the never ending stairs to a dim room. Only one candle burned here. The darkness was refreshing. A contrast to the gilt and blazing light of the revelry below.
“Shall I stay a moment, Sir? Make sure you are steady on your feet?”
“Yes. I’d like that.” Peter turned toward the man and made eye contact. The man’s face relaxed. Peter reached and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. He needed to remake the connection. He was quite handsome. Young. He couldn’t have been much more than twenty years old.
Baron Frosti writes on a variety of technical, personal, and fictional topics. He spends most of his time living in imaginary places filled with wonder, mystery, and many stories. He hosts an eponymous podcast interviewing LGBT and allied creatives.