DSP Publications author Pearl Love has a new paranormal book out:
A malicious deception… An ancient curse… A timeless love…
Brian Macon is a worn-out homicide detective whose job and life hold no meaning until he meets a gorgeous German man who turns his world upside down. Alrick Ritter has a poet’s soul, a master cellist’s skill, and a sniper’s deadly accuracy, and though constrained by sinister forces to be a killer-for-hire, Alrick wants nothing more than to be with Brian. Helpless to resist the call of their hearts, Brian and Alrick begin a cautious affair, keeping secret the reality that places them on opposite sides of the law. But an ancient danger threatens to destroy their love.
Three thousand years ago in the burning sands of ancient Egypt, Prince Rahotep and his devoted slave, Tiye, were robbed of their lives, betrayed by a powerful woman’s mad hatred and the cruel humor of an evil god. Now destiny has reunited the lovers, joining them in an unquenchable passion even as a twist of fate casts them as potential enemies. Will Brian and Alrick be able to overcome the centuries-old curse to secure the love that should have always been theirs?
1st Edition published by Dreamspinner Press, November 2010.
WE ARE of one body and share one soul.” His tone was steady, belying his pain as his sword buried itself deeply within his lover’s belly. The beautiful boy collapsed against him, blood covering their white garments with a vivid, ghastly red. It was a long moment before he realized the pain spreading through him was not merely from grief.
Blood spread beneath their feet as the failing beats of their hearts added to the steaming pool. He looked into his lover’s eyes and saw only sorrow and devastating regret.
His heart heard the words the boy could not speak. He glanced down, but only the dagger’s hilt could be seen, the length of it buried deep in his chest. He looked up at his lover once more, his strength failing as he graced the boy with a gentle smile.
“Mery,” the boy gasped, his final breath cooling the blood that bubbled from his lips.
They both fell to the ground, their fall marked by a cry of horror. And somewhere out in the howling desert could be heard the malevolent laughter of a delighted god….
“GET YOUR shit together, Macon, or you’ll be spending the rest of your career finding lost pets, Detective.”
Mumbling an echo of the captain’s warning, Brian stared down moodily at his glass. Not that he could bring himself to care that his career was spiraling down the toilet. He was only thirty-three, but he was already feeling burned-out. All the shiny idealism that had carried him through the police academy at the top of his class was long buried in the dirt and muck of too many bodies and not enough justice.
Ice tinkled against the sides of the glass as Brian gently swirled his drink. He took a sip, wincing at the harsh burn that identified the whiskey as less than top-shelf. Sounds of quiet conversation and the slick swish of waiters decked out in a server’s semblance of black tie passed around him unnoticed.
As gay bars went, Blackjack’s was more upscale than most. It was a bar in the truest sense, where guys could go and enjoy a drink and a leisurely chat without the pheromone-laden noise of dance clubs. An unseen sound system was piping in classical music, and the lighting was just low enough to create an intimate atmosphere while still allowing a man to see a potential evening companion clearly. Blackjack’s was perfect for men who were fatigued by the club scene but still wanted to enjoy the openness of a sympathetic setting. Brian had occasionally gone there for more social reasons, but tonight he was there simply out of a desire to avoid anyone from work. He was pretty sure he was the only gay man working Homicide out of the 8th Precinct.
Feeling older than his years, Brian stared absently at nothing in particular. It wasn’t a good idea to drink on a work night, but the whiskey was a necessary medicinal—a cure for his recent lack of sleep. His dreams had been disturbing of late, as much for the content as for their repetitiveness. Images of thin, dark-skinned arms wrapping around the neck of an olive-toned man dressed in the rich apparel of some impossibly ancient time drifted across his mind. He quickly took a deeper drink to distract himself before the picture could fully take form, but it wasn’t easy to quell the feelings that lingered from the dream. Even now, hours after waking and after putting in a full shift at the station, the memory of the dream made him hard. The loving press of the taller man’s strong, toned body again his smaller companion, the caress of the boy’s seeking fingers against his lover’s skin….
Brian squirmed on his bar stool, helpless to prevent his arousal even as he fought against it. He glared down at the amber liquid as the condensation from the glass coated his long fingers with chilly wetness. He could have simply chalked the visions up to his recent spate of abstinence if it weren’t painfully clear there was far more between the dream couple than mere sex.
“Who gives a shit?”
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Pearl Love has been writing since she was a kid, but it was the pretty boys who frolic around in her head who finally convinced her to pursue it seriously. She’s a Midwest transplant who current thrives in the hustle and bustle of the nation’s capital. She especially enjoys stories with guns, swords, and massive explosions. Pearl is a Marvel fan girl and owns a ridiculous stash of knitting supplies.