Nightingale – an excerpt

From the Journals of the Viadine…

They Walk the Earth Among Mortal Men…

The Fallen, having descended to earth, vulnerable to all manner of earthly pleasure and sin, were barred forevermore from Heaven. Easily seduced by the beauty of humankind, henceforth they divided, light and dark, order and chaos, lovers and destroyers of mankind. Being now branded as the Phratry, or Brotherhood, of the Fallen—henceforth eternally earthbound, divided and marked as Viadine and Diadune. Thus fashioned from the ashes of desolation a choir of men, offering a measure of serenity and renewal for those who seek order and light—henceforth known as the Gios of the Nightingale—men gifted with the voices of angels, poignant reminder of an existence now lost forever to the Phratry of the Fallen…
— Rahuael, First Chronicler, Viadine Secretorum


An earthly balance is at stake. Nothing happens by chance. And fate, here on Earth, will demand its bloody tribute no matter how high the cost…

The thirst for deliverance and absolution are transformed into explosive flames of forbidden passion when a mysteriously charismatic masked man encounters a brilliant and handsome composer. Their lives are intertwined with those of two others, and only the ultimate sacrifice will satisfy the greedy appetite of fate…

Retribution is his only desire…Fabienne Brunetto, a 17th-Century castrato of amazing vocal talent, is brutally attacked by a twisted enemy. But agonizing death is not his destiny. He is saved by Annatoly Constantine, the immortal hand of a brotherhood of fallen angels devoted to protection, balance, and order on Earth. But Fabienne bears the scars of his terrible encounter, and his song has been extinguished forever—at least until a rite of redemption can come to culmination. He must wait two hundred years before his hunger for deliverance can fully be sated.

Wounded and shamed…Annatoly Constantine, whom centuries before was also a man, is the protector of the Gios of Nightingales, a choir of immortal voices created to soothe and heal the world. Annatoly has always been destined to lose what he loves, never able to fully offer himself to a lover. Until Carne Giraint, a gifted composer, appears in his life, making him yearn for something more, something exquisitely forbidden.

A composer marked by the cursed blood of his ancestors…Carne Giraint is a mortal of extraordinary talent, tapped by the brotherhood of angels to accept his destiny as composer to the gios. Carne’s greatest passion has never been ignited until he encounters a masked man known to him only as Maître. One night of fiery desire leaves him ravenous for the touch of Maître, a man he cannot forget.

A greedy man willing to give his soul for power and money…Dandrae, a slave to the dark beings who seek to alter the course of Fabienne’s and Carne’s destinies, is tasked with quashing Carne’s mystical gift for composition.

An earthly balance is at stake. Nothing happens by chance. And fate, here on Earth, will demand its bloody tribute no matter how high the cost…


Carne removed the mask and tossed it toward Maître, who deftly caught it, caressed it, and then gently set it aside. Carne stood poised in the firelight, completely vulnerable, his cock thick with arousal, the sheen of pre-come glazing the tip, his balls heavy.

Maître walked to Carne. He circled slowly, minutely inspecting Carne. Carne’s nerves stretched taut as his desire mounted. Would he find Carne lacking? Maître completed his inspection and returned to face Carne. With his gloved hand he cupped Carne’s testicles, weighing them, stroking them.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

He slid his hand up Carne’s erect shaft, brushed over the engorged knob of his prick. “Precious. A set of manly jewels to be prized by any lover. I wonder, have you the fortitude of a well-hung young stallion as well?” The hue of Carne’s cock deepened, the flesh stretched and hardened, his balls already drawing up close to his body at Maître’s handling and obvious appreciation. With his fingers curled around Carne’s erection, Maître drew him forward. Carne could feel the unyielding presence of the mask against his cheek.

“You like being ordered, don’t you? You like men.” His voice was a steamy intimate whisper against Carne’s ear. “My touching you is arousing. How many men have you been with, Geraint? And women? Have you a patron among them?”

There would be no prevarication. This man, in some supernatural way, would peel Carne’s secrets from his soul. And Carne couldn’t stop it from happening, he could do none other than yield himself. “I-I think you know my preference, Maître. I think you know it well enough.”

His mother had thought it was the music tutor who had ruined him. She blamed herself for Carne’s eccentricities. But Carne had known from an early age, when he’d secretly watched the actors changing backstage, when it had been the men who he fantasized about, not the women. He had understood his predilection for men before his mother’s latest lover had seduced him. But he never told her the truth before she died of consumptionNightingale_sm in the poor house. He never absolved her of her false guilt.

“But the women give you fine jewels, don’t they? Little gifts because you please them so very much. They yearn for you to spend time in their bed, they are eager for you to sleep with them, to show them even more of your secret magic. To ply your command of… instrument in a much more personal and intimate fashion.”

“Yes, but I don’t give them what they want. I’ll sire no bastards. Ever.” He was never going to subject a child to what he had suffered. And since he had no plans to marry, nor a desire to lie with women, he offered them no encouragement to pursue him.

“So maybe they want me more because of it. But the men. They can be even more generous than the women.” Perhaps so generous because they sought to assuage their guilt for wanting him instead of the beautiful actresses for whom he composed his arias to make their voices shine.

“They can also be more brutal. Is that what you like about them?”

Carne didn’t respond right away. It was that, but there was more as well. “Not all of them are brutal,” Carne finally responded.

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Haevyn – an excerpt

In a city controlled by men, her choices will destroy her or empower her. There is no middle ground. And the love of two very different men may yet define her triumph…



Duty and honor demand the ultimate sacrifice.

Everyone has their poison. For Haevyn Breina, it’s her inability to resist a dare. This time it’s a challenge from her friend and lover, Grisha, to sneak into the popular, illegal cage fights that always end in all-male orgies. Eagerly she snaps up the gauntlet, unaware that she will end the night forever changed.

When expatriate humanotic warrior Entreus locks eyes with Haevyn at the sex-fueled event, he is instantly captivated. Despite a duty that binds him to an exiled malevolent sorcerer, he seeks her out in a shattering, illuminating encounter.

Grisha’s plan is in motion—to bring both his warrior lovers together and heal their scarred souls with a combined passion that he alone cannot provide. But Haevyn’s tormented past refuses to die. And Entreus will not rest until the Core (the ELLC) that ruined his life is destroyed.

Amid ever-tangling emotions and a brutal plot to take over the city, the three lovers walk a tightrope that could be cut at any moment. Fighting for justice, bound by duty…and a love that could alter the foundations of their world.


“You shouldn’t be out walking these docks alone.”

She whirled around, a hand going to the weapon in the deep pocket of her cloak. Instinct kicked in.

It was him, the humanotic champion from the Cockrage. Her fingers curled around the unyielding handle of the revolver. Just that act alone offered some security. She should have scented him, known he was near. Facing him, though he stood some distance away in deeper shadows untouched by the bright moonlight, she took a cautious step back. He reeked still of game-savage intensity. And the scent of that barbarian earthiness appealed to her in a way it shouldn’t. But now, at least, he was partially clothed, though the trousers fit him all too snugly.

“Are you following me?” she asked in a deceptively deep tone, still trying to mask her sex. He stepped forward, lamplight spilling over him, glinting on his bare, skinmetal chest. Gods help her, why was she drawn to this stranger so peculiarly? She fought the attraction with everything she had, but it was almost more than she could withstand. Something seemed…different about him. Or maybe it was just the energy of the night still drenching her from the games. Aberrant attraction. She would be the cause of her own destruction if she wasn’t careful.

He shrugged. “I saw you at the fights. I knew you weren’t one of them. Perhaps you intrigue me. There’s little in this dimension that…arouses me of late.”

The tenseness of his half-guarded expression seemed familiar—a resonance in the intensity that shot through her, sporiti-deep. She connected with that emotion. Understood it. The cowl of her coat still shrouded her face; the bulkiness of the outer garment engulfed her form. “I’m not what you think I am.”

Her nipples drew tight and hard as an unexpected desire took root. She saw a glint in his eyes and knew that probably, with his altered senses, he could smell her arousal.

He took another step toward her. “You belong to Grisha. I saw you with him. Why are you out here alone?”

“What’s it to you?” Her heart pounded. They were alone here in the dead of night. He might do anything to her.

Anything at all.

Her nipples scraped against the rough fabric of the binding beneath her shirt, the contact shooting a jolt of blistering desire through her body down to her cunt. She fought for control; her fingers trembled against the grip of the gun, but it wasn’t because she was chilled, nor was it from fear. What would it be like to fuck him? She already knew every inch of his man-flesh from the cockfight. She’d seen him aroused. Had watched him dominate and claim sexual victory over his opponent. She had even imagined herself in the place of that vanquished warrior, feeling that cock penetrating deeply into her pussy.

Haevyn tightened her fingers around the revolver. With her other hand, she reached up and yanked back the hood of her coat so the champion could see exactly what she was. She waited for his reaction. His expression didn’t alter in the way she expected. Somewhere in their depths, she saw…recognition that went deeper. A foreshadowing. A connection.

He had known she was female. She saw it in the deepening of his expression. No surprise. No shock. More an acknowledgment of what he’d expected.

“Yes, Grisha’s,” he said, stepping closer. “I doubt he would want you to be alone on the docks at this time of night. It’s not safe.”

She loosened the grip on her weapon. Every sensation sharpened. Another, alien emotion melded with arousal. Outside of Grisha, she had never lain with a man purely for pleasure. Even her relationship with Grisha didn’t leave her feeling as though a raging ball of fire burned inside her gut. Her response to this man took her by surprise, and she wasn’t necessarily ready for the…elemental lust that consumed her. She didn’t want to know this humanotic’s true identity. She didn’t want to give him hers. But, by the gods, she wanted to fuck him. She wanted him so badly it hurt—hurt so damned good.

Fear tinged that sensation, deepened it. And in this moment, she had no thought about what came before or after. These were the moments she lived for, her senses firing on every level, gut-deep, primal. This was what she craved.

Haevyn eased her hand away from the gun and waited for him to make the first move. He stepped forward, apparently understanding the silent invitation. He drew close, so close she could feel his heat.

“I want you,” he said without preamble.

“So have me.” Neither was she in the mood for coyness or flirtation.

He unfastened her cloak, and it dropped to the boards. He studied her a long, heart-pounding moment. She reached out, slipped a hand inside the waistband of his simple linen trousers. Found him hard and ready for her. She remembered the look of that cock, oiled slick in the cage. She recalled watching, unable to look away, as he reigned triumphant o

ver his vanquished opponent.

“I know what you want,” he said. He yanked the tail of her shirt from the confinement of her britches, even as her fingers curled around that thick, hot cock imprisoned inside his pants.

“Unfasten my trousers,” he said. He unbuttoned her shirt, unwound the binding and tossed it away. Her breasts popped free, nipples erect, exposed and vulnerable. Cool air mated with hot flesh, causing her to shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.” She definiHaevyn_smtely wasn’t cold. Her hands shaking from the need to have him buried inside her, Haevyn released the fastening on his pants, and his big prick burst free of the confinement. His was a human prick, not made of humanotic material. That this part of him was human pleased her.

“Here, on the dock? Or some place more private?” He cupped her breast with his humanotic hand.

She noticed a slight difference in texture and warmth, but only marginally different from human hands. The touch sent a current of electricity zinging through her body, arrowing down to her vagina. He could easily crush her. Breathlessly, she leaned into him. He kneaded her breast, a touch of skinmetal to human flesh, and she barely caught the moan before it escaped her throat. “Here. Now.”


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