Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
This was…this was very unexpected.
He sighed at his thought and shook his head. This was so very Rafe.
As he stepped off the elevator and crossed to the living room, he found his beautiful mate waiting for him, his arms spread wide. “There’s mon ange! I have the most wonderful surprise for you.”
Philippe’s eyes darted around the living room and the other bits of the penthouse he could see from where he stood. So far, everything appeared the same. Apparently, Rafe was just redecorating their bedroom. Okay. That was good. He might make fun of Jullien, but he was the same. He needed his changes in small doses. Redecorating the bedroom alone was fine.
After pocketing his phone, Philippe stepped into Rafe’s waiting embrace. “I’m eager to see what you’ve been up to. Have you been feeling restless? Am I not keeping you entertained enough?”
Rafe huffed. “I thought it was time for something new. It’s not your job to entertain me. Simply love me.”
“And I love you with all of my heart and soul,” Philippe answered, tipping his face up toward Rafe.
His lover took the offering without question, losing them in a slow, deep kiss that wiped away Philippe’s trepidation and filled him with warm reassurance and a sense of safety that only Rafe could provide. Philippe loved this man so completely. Rafe was his everything, and he would happily follow him into whatever chaos, hell, or heaven he pursued.
Rafe lifted his mouth from Philippe’s and smiled. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Maybe give you a reason to try out that bed you showed me.”
Excitement lit Rafe’s eyes, and he grabbed Philippe’s hand, pulling him along to the bedroom.
Where Philippe was once again knocked speechless.
The black bed was even bigger in person, with its ornate headboard reaching almost to the ceiling. It dominated the room with its size and overwhelming grandeur. Through the delicate gothic lacework, he spied a soft pastel rainbow. The room smelled of fresh paint, and all the furniture and knickknacks that had been in the room were now gone. All the new furnishings matched the bed—black and dripping ornate gothic details.
“Mon Dieu,” he whispered a second time.
Rafe stepped up behind Philippe and wrapped his arms around his waist while placing his chin on his shoulder. “What do you think, mon ange?”
“Mon Dieu,” he repeated because he still didn’t have words.
“Tell me. Honestly. First thoughts.”
“I think you’ve erected a cathedral to worship at the feet of a great LGBT peacock god.” Philippe froze. He had not meant to say that out loud. The censor in his head remained locked in shock.
But relief surged through him as Rafe’s bright laughter filled the room.
“Yes! And our peacock god prefers to be honored with sex!” Rafe released Philippe so he could come to stand in front of him, his beautiful eyes alight with an inner fire that melted Philippe’s brain. “Sweaty, bone-melting sex. Only then will we please our rainbow god. Shall we worship, my love?”
“Yes, but I have one concern.”
Rafe became serious in a heartbeat. “What? How can I fix this?”
Philippe bent at the waist and pointed toward the visible legs of the bed. “Those are a bit…spindly. Are you sure they will hold during our more aggressive…worship?”
Rafe bent with him and narrowed his eyes on the legs in question. “That is an excellent point.” He turned his head toward Philippe and his smile became positively wicked. “But there is only one way to discover if our new bed can keep up with our desire.”
“Yes, my love. Let’s try it out.”
Siren Song
A long, lonely note cried out from a violin. The sound stretched and twisted across the empty park. Silvery mist slithered out from the trees and crawled along the ground. The sun had set hours ago, and the city lights alone kept the deep, velvety blackness at bay.
Rafe Varik lounged on a wooden bench, one foot propped on the space next to him. The bow lightly held between his fingers glided across the strings like a lover’s caress while the violin sang a hauntingly forlorn tune about a soul searching for its other half.
A few minutes ticked by before the soft crunch of dried leaves reached his ears. It was too late for trick-or-treaters. The only thing lurking about was prey.
The instrument still tucked under his chin, Rafe slid the tip of his tongue over a fang and grinned as he watched a figure draw closer, following the winding path through the park. The man passed under the dirty light of a lamp, and his hair shone like golden sunbeams against milky-white skin.
He kept his head down, his face half-hidden in the shadow of his lifted coat collar, but Rafe could pick out the hint of a smile on peach-blossom lips.
He continued to play, drawing the man closer. The notes sped up, tripping and chasing after one another the same way his heart was skipping and bounding in his chest.