QSFer Olivia Helling has a new MM Fantasy book out:
Embracing his inner darkness could be his only chance to save the man he loves…
Ilyas refuses to give up his power. Not in the negotiations with his kingdom’s old enemy, and not in his relationship with the man he loves. To keep the possibility of victory all to himself, Ilyas shuts Jem out of the talks and puts their love at incredible risk…
Jem can no longer trust his own mind. While Ilyas has helped keep his inner demons at bay, the vessel of the Dark God senses the void growing between them. When the shadowmancer arrives at the negotiations, Jem keeps a close eye on a foe who seems to have won over everyone but him…
As Jem uncovers the shadowmancer’s true purpose, nobody believes him, including Ilyas. Before a dormant, deadly menace is released, Jem’s only chance to save the peninsula and his soulmate is to embrace the monster he was made to be…
Shadowmancer is the riveting final installment in a trilogy of LGBT dark fantasy novels. If you like gay romance against all odds, action-packed adventures, and far-away fantasy worlds, then you’ll love Olivia Helling’s engaging tale.
Buy Shadowmancer to conclude the fantastical love story today!
Godsbane Prince Book 3
One year before, my tower room had been an austere, lonely nook. A single bed roll, a tiny fireplace with a tinier fire, and huge glass windows overlooking the ice floes. The perfect hiding place for me, far from the siblings I made cry, from the mother who refused to look at me, and from everyone else who suffered in my presence.
After returning from Nuriya as lovers instead of tawam rohi, the room had transformed. I’d transformed it. While Ilyas dealt with the townspeople’s fears, I had smuggled in his favourite items to surprise him.
Silk of every imaginable colour billowed over the stone walls. Overlapping rugs softened the cold flagstones. Lanterns hung from the ceiling.
I even scavenged a wider fender for my tiny fireplace. The fire stifled the room, but kept Ilyas warm and that was what mattered. Imagining what he would like, I even burned cinnamon sticks in the fire.
Ilyas loved it. He demonstrated his appreciation all night.
In the morning, we rolled up the bed to clear space for his movements. My movements as well, as Ilyas insisted on teaching me.
“Plane your arms as if two sheets of black iron pressed on either side of you,” Ilyas instructed.
I pulled my shoulder blades together to lift my arms, my front knee bent and my other straight.
He ran his hands on the undersides of my arms and lifted my back one. “Keep them in one line.”
His hands settled on my hips, his pelvis so close and so warm, even in this heat. My breath quickened, heat rising in places it had no business doing while we stretched. He adjusted my hips, explaining tucked pelvises, but I barely heard him over the rush in my ears, over the warmth in my body, the inferno in his.
His hand rose up my back, my muscles tightening under his touch. “Breathe deeply.”
Oh sure, I’d get right on that as soon as I could calm my pulse and relax my constricted lungs. He seemed as collected as if he faced a throne room of courtiers instead of manipulating my body.
I tried to slow my breathing, but his hand slid down to grasp my wrist. His heat disappeared as he moved in front of me. Like me, he wore no robe, only a pair of loose fitting trousers. My eyes raked over his muscled chest, remembering him pressed against my back as he—
“Move this arm towards your knee,” he said.
I did as instructed, only realising halfway down this put my eyes closer to his groin. Closer to… Well, Ilyas had spent many nights teaching and demonstrating the proper use of my mouth in such areas. I licked my lips.
His gratitude the night before couldn’t have satisfied a hot-blooded man like him. This was all a tease. He meant his tutelage to devolve into wrestling and lips and panting and…
Toes pressed into the crease at my hip as he pulled my wrist forwards and down. I fell forwards, Ilyas holding me up with his hand and foot.
“Your torso shouldn’t be curved,” he said. “You should fold forwards from here.” He wiggled his toes against my waist.
Right. He might be hot-blooded, but he chose when to indulge, as so many months of celibacy on the journey to Nuriya had taught me. He’d pleasured me all night. Now he wanted to focus on his stretches — on teaching me how to stretch. This meant more to him than any fornication ever could.
My own member didn’t agree.
I tensed, wishing my desire would jump off a cliff and die. I’d been celibate for years, master of my body. Not once had I indulged with my hand. I hadn’t wished to grow attached to this body. But still, I had the discipline. A few months otherwise hadn’t ruined me.
I could resist…
He guided my torso upright, then my back arm to slide down my leg. I reached my other arm high in an exultant pose. He pressed close behind me, his breath hot on my bare neck.
I shivered and arched away. Focus, I must focus. I swallowed the rising tide, but he warmed me better than any hearth.
Ilyas caught me around my middle, one hand pressed flat just above the heat in my loins. He pressed me back into position, with his warm breath sending electric spurts down my spine. His hand stilled.
Stop it, I ordered my pelvis. It wanted to buck into his hand, to force him to run his hand over me.
“No,” he whispered into my ear. The electric shoots multiplied. “Like this.”
He stepped in closer, his pelvis pressed against my arse. Memories of the previous night washed over me. My muscles strained, barely feeling his adjustments, only his member pressed against my arse—
I gasped. Ilyas was doing this on purpose. He meant to tease me until I begged, and I was so close. So very close. If I hadn’t thought him serious about the stretches, I would have begged a dozen times. “You—”
He placed kisses down my neck and between my shoulder, cutting my mind off. “You?”
I opened my mouth, but what I might have said was lost as he slipped his hand under my waistband. I bucked against him.
Yet he didn’t throw me to the bed roll. He held me still, utterly in his power.
“P-please.” My voice was hoarse.
“Mmm?” He raised his hand to my navel. His hand blazed like iron cast into a forge.
I tried to follow, but the stance held me prisoner.
“Yes, like that,” he murmured, breath tickling my ear. “Keep your pelvis tucked.”
How much discipline did he possess? “Please, Ilyas.”
Please take me or step away. I swallowed. Which one? “I…”
“Yes?” But he didn’t care to hear my answer. His hand slipped lower. I wore nothing beneath to keep him from wrapping his hand around my length.
Muffled chuckles erupted from the door. I jerked up my head as he wrenched his hand out of my trousers. Who would dare approach? Servants abhorred walking by the tower stairs.
Haori smothered his giggles in two hands. His eyes danced.
I jumped away from Ilyas feeling more uncomfortably warm than at midday in Nuriya. Haori, who could blush as he pleased, remained pale, as if he hadn’t walked in on us verging on intimacy.
“You’re adorable!” With a wide grin, Haori collapsed against the door frame.
“This had better be important.” Ilyas crossed his muscled arms.
I ripped my eyes away. I couldn’t look at him, not with my little brother standing there.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he said.
Ilyas narrowed his eyes.
“Mother needs you. A Sentei ambassador has arrived.”
Olivia Helling doesn’t believe in love at first sight… but maybe, just maybe, it blossoms along a few books. That is, after all, how she fell in love with her husband.
Olivia writes about the darkness and flaws from within, the struggle with self-confidence, self-perception and fear of failure, and fantasy and historical worlds that refuse to allow love between men. So be warned: happily ever after is not guaranteed.
The protagonist and love interest don’t always end up together by the end of one book. But when they finally come together, their love will be a thing of beauty.