QSFer Susan Mac Nicol has a new MM paranormal fantasy book out: Unveiled.
Picture the Scottish Highlands, mist thick enough to swallow a road whole, and a storm that doesn’t just rattle windows — it wakes something ancient. Somewhere in that storm, a town appears. Not rebuilt. Not rediscovered. Appears, as though it’s stepped straight out of a fable and decided the modern world could do with a bit more enchantment.
That’s Glengàill: a village steeped in secrets, older than memory, and entirely unwilling to give up its magic without a fight.
At the heart of it all are two wolf shifters who couldn’t be more different, and yet somehow, entirely alike where it counts.
Connor leads his clan with the kind of primal strength and fierce loyalty that makes people follow him into anything — storms, battles, the lot. Adrian rules differently: compassion and humour where Connor gives strength, keeping his own clans balanced with warmth as much as authority.
Kings in their own right, bound to packs who need them — and yet from the moment Glengàill draws them together, something else stirs alongside duty. Not rivalry. Not resistance to each other. A pull neither of them asked for and neither can quite shake — the unmistakable, unsettling call of fated mates.
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Excerpt
Inside the Inn’s back room, the hearth burned low and restless. Adrian had joined them ten minutes ago, entering the room with confidence and flair, Max close behind him.
After the Innkeeper had poured warm glasses of mead and set out baskets of freshly baked bread and honey cakes, the meeting was ready to start.
Cariah paced. Salis watched. Melanus stood still as a rock, waiting. And Connor’s patience frayed like rope in a storm. “Speak plainly,” he growled at last, arms folded, boots planted wide. “No riddles. No poetic shite. Just tell us why the hell Glengáill was dropped on my land. And who the fuck is this Council we’ve been hearing about?”
Cariah stopped pacing. The hewn-stone floor creaked under his weight.
Xiathen sighed heavily. “The Council of Veils is not a government, not a species, and not a pantheon. It is a self-constructed regulatory force formed within the Veiled Path, the realm between worlds.”
“They exist for one purpose,” Cariah continued. “To maintain equilibrium between worlds by any means necessary. They consider worlds, people, and magic as variables. Not lives.”
“Not rulers,” Xiathen said carefully. “Not gods. Not demons. They are Adjudicators. Wardens of what lies between worlds.”
“We believe,” Melanus began, “the Council did not send the storm without purpose, for they do nothing without an end goal.” She paused. “They sent it to bring us here.”
Adrian froze. “To Scotland? Why would they—”
“Because of you,” Xiathen said softly.
Adrian went still. His breath hitched. Connor stepped closer automatically, his body angled like a shield. Susan Mac Nicol Xiathen approached the table, long fingers gliding over the worn surface.
“Your mark, Adrian. The Seal of Pursuit.” They gestured to Adrian’s collarbone. “You have felt it, yes?”
Connor saw Adrian go pale, his gaze wary. “I have a small infection, nothing too serious.”
Connor knew it was a lie.
Before he could say anything, Melanus stepped forward. “It is no infection. It is a powerful sigil. It ties you to the Council’s will. Their desire to reclaim you is absolute. But the way they chose to pursue you, that is what troubles us, Adrian. Somewhere in your past you have a strong tie to our world. It may be eons ago, beyond recall, or a product of birth we simply don’t understand yet, but—”
Adrian stood up, his expressive hands telling his story. “That’s ridiculous. I have no secret background. I knew my parents, my grandparents, and I can assure you I have no ties to your world. I’m not Clark fucking Kent sent to Earth from another world to fulfil a destiny I don’t even know about.” His chest heaved as he paced the room. “They have no claim on me.”
Melanus sighed heavily. “All I can tell you is that the Triarc have been dreaming. Badly. Painfully. Our dreams echo with symbols we recognise. Anchors, fault lines, and two Valours walking through a sea of shadow.” Her voice thinned. “And a spark. A very specific spark.”
Adrian’s pulse jumped. Connor felt it, even from where he stood.
“No,” Adrian denied. “That can’t be. That spark was ours. It came from—”
“The bond,” Xiathen finished. “A resonance.”
Connor’s wolf bristled. “Our bond isn’t their damned business.”
“But it is,” Melanus said, stepping closer. “Because they needed it.”
Adrian’s throat tightened. “Needed our connection?”
Xiathen nodded once, slow, heavy. “The Triarc believe the Council moved Glengáill to ignite what lay dormant between you. That the displacement, the fear, the rifts, everything was designed to bring you two into alignment sooner. Faster. Harder.”
Melanus spoke again, her voice rough. “The Council didn’t know how to force the Valour spark to manifest on their own plane. Too much resistance. Too 82 Unveiled much balance. So they cast us out of Utharia entirely, dropped us between realms, into the Mortal Plane, because that instability would shake the Valours awake.”
“You’re saying,” Connor clarified, his voice low and thunder-dark, “they tore a whole village out of its world to what? Make us look at each other?”
Melanus gave a humourless laugh. “Not look. Resonate. They needed the spark. They needed the Valours bound. Because once bound—” Xiathen finished quietly, miserably, “You are easier to pull.”
Author Bio
Susan Mac Nicol is a British novelist dedicated to the power of LGBTQ+ romance, fantasy, and paranormal fiction. With over forty published titles spanning contemporary emotion and dark fantasy, her stories centre on complex characters who discover strength in connection.
From the gritty streets of the Men of London series to the sensual underground of Fetish Alley and the enchanted realms of Monarchs of Magic, Susan weaves high-stakes drama with emotional intimacy.
When she’s not lost in fictional worlds, Susan actively connects with fellow romance enthusiasts, mentoring upcoming writers and celebrating diverse queer voices across global literature.
| Author Website | www.susanmacnicol.co.uk |
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