All the Originals, beings that created all the supernaturals, have vanished a long time ago.
Or did they now? Killa is one of them and he doesn’t feel dead at all. Though that could happen any day now. He is hunted by one of his brothers and has nowhere to go. Unless he happens to find some of his old friends…
He finds more than he bargains for.
Keen had barely survived his family’s torture and his spirit is almost broken. Finding his mate lying wounded in the bed next to him is a dream come true. Until it transforms into a nightmare. The small wolf has enough experience with those to last him several lifetimes.
Will Keen get his perfect ending or is his mate as imperfect as his life had been until now? Did he want Killa any other way than how he is? After all, they seem to be perfectly imperfect for each other.
He was weak. He didn’t want to admit that maybe he wasn’t strong enough to get out of this. He and the one he protected. They were fleeing in the night like criminals. Not what Killa was used to. He was a drasher, the meanest and toughest of them all. He was also the first drasher, the Original one. And he felt like he was dying. Fucking silver, it hurt like a motherfucker! He had forgotten just how much. Maybe his brother was right. Maybe they were becoming soft with age—not that he looked his age. Nobody gave him more than thirty years. Well, thirty-five at most. He was vain enough to know that he looked good, and he also knew how to use it to his advantage, even if that advantage meant he got to fuck whoever he wanted whenever. Killa doubted that the one that hunted them would be softened with a fuck for old time’s sake.
He swallowed down the growl that wanted to escape him, stopped, and turned to his companion. Mallick was trying to be brave, he knew that. He was probably more scared of him now than of the one that hunted them. He didn’t know what Killa suspected, didn’t know that even a drasher couldn’t win this fight.
“I’m sorry. You needed something?”
He so wanted to dump Mallick’s queeny ass somewhere and just flee toward their destination on his own. He could have been there already if not for…No. Those were not his thoughts, not what he felt. A drasher never compromised his honor, never failed, never let people get killed when they were under his protection. Shit. He was nearer! Killa could almost feel the push on his mind, the thoughts and suggestions, knew what he wanted in return for letting Killa escape his clutches—this time. And then Mallick’s worried gaze flickered around them and on him, his frown cleared and he got paler than a ghost.
“We need to get out of here. Now.”
“That’s what I was trying to do, sugar. That is, before you wanted to stop for a tea break.”
He made a move to turn, and it was probably what saved his ass from getting turned to ash.
He dropped like a rock, holding his side and hissing like the snakes he could transform into. Mallick jumped like a fool right on top of him and Killa started to swear louder and dirtier. Oh, hell no. They were not doing this. This was not the time for him to die, and he won’t let his death be on his friend’s conscience. If the drakon Original could still think under all those compulsions controlling him. Because by now he was dead certain the drakon Original was the one sent to hunt them. No other flames could burn his tough hide like this. He rolled over Mallick and took the next hit squarely in the middle of his back. Mallick’s hair caught on fire and the guy squirmed and yelled like a struck pig. My gods, his head was hurting.
“Fuck! Kraken! Stop!”
Another hit, too close for his peace of mind, and Killa gave up on talking altogether. There was no reasoning with their attacker when he was so completely mind controlled.
The little guy’s dilated pupils almost made him cringe. Killa didn’t like scaring people, and the things he could transform into usually did. No way around it now. Friend or no friend, Kraken would roast them if they stayed put for much longer. He could do no other than what he was ordered to, after all.
“Wrap your legs and arms around my waist.”
His charge did as ordered, and no sooner had he finished than Killa took to running—and running, and flying, and swimming…
I’m twenty-eight going on fifty and swearing I’ll never reach it. I am a nomad living a gypsy life, searching for new places and new adventures as soon as summer is back in. Thank God for Internet as I have the unhealthy addiction for reading all that I can get my hands on (with an unhealthy predilection toward more perky genres like erotic literature and seductive m/m stories). As for writing, I started doodling at the age of seven. At eleven I shocked my lit teacher with a sci-fi short love story (by then I was well acquainted with my mom’s hidden stash of Sandra Brown and Sidney Sheldon) and…lol.
Finally, after like fifteen years of avid reading, I said what the heck, I should try putting those dirty thoughts on paper. Now I’m hoping my readers will be harder to shock. My purpose is not a lit award (not that I’ll ever get that!) but to entertain my readers. Hope I succeed!
You can visit me at my blog site http://aerynjadenauthor.weebly.com/. Or better yet, as it’s the Facebook era, just Google “Aeryn Jaden Facebook” and you’ll find me and news about my other new releases on my Facebook page. I love to hear from my readers! Cheers!