John Fear was born into a religious sect known as the Exclusive Brethren. This sheltered him from the outside world as he grew up, but could not hide him from its influences. A struggle began in his mind that led him to leave the Brethren, along with his young family.
This is a story that was always meant to be told. During his later life John Fear had prepared a lot of the book, along with notes for chapters that he knew would not be completed. It is only now, over twenty years later, that the book is finally being published. It contains original content written by John, along with diary notes, letters and magazine articles. The final chapters are written by his second eldest son, Alastair. The memoir is introduced and edited by his eldest son, Robert, as a tribute to his father’s amazing life.
Recommendation “Great intro, so much is said in just a few words. The author has put lots of feeling into it too. A quality presentation. Excellent cover, excellent photos, chapter titles and accuracy. Lovely evocative writing. Well, thank heaven that Robert Fear decided to publish his father's gem of a book! This is not to be missed - I simply couldn't put it down! John Fear certainly had an entertaining command of the English language and tells a wonderful tale of his life. There is great variety from cosy family memories to horrific scenes in a coup. A variety of techniques are used to portray this memoir - diary entries, a telegram, and letters. I like the travel aspect to this memoir too - I wasn't expecting it. A fantastic book. A wonderful and powerful tribute."
Born in Leicester in 1955, Robert's family moved to Surrey when he was 11. He was educated at Reigate Grammar School. After this he worked in a bank in the city for several years before getting the travel bug. Fred, a nickname he got at school, stuck throughout his travels and has remained with him to this day. His travels took him to Ibitha for the summer of 1977, hitch-hiking around Europe in 1978 and the USA and Canada in 1979. During this time he also settled and worked in Germany. Fred's Diary 1981 was written during the 158 days he spent travelling around Asia.
These days Robert is happily settled in Eastbourne, East Sussex where he lives with his wife and three cats. He works as a software consultant and has been able to combine work with some travel during the past fifteen years, having visited countries as far apart as Australia, Singapore, Ghana and Suriname.
Turpitude is the fourth book to A Harem Boy’s Saga, a provocative story about a young man who was initiated into a clandestine sexual society through his UK boarding school. From there, he was spirited to the Middle East to attend the Bahriji (Oasis) School in The United Arab Emirates in preparation for Harem services for the wealthy elite.
It is also a love story between the young man, his ‘Big Brother,’ and his ‘Valet,’ who served as his chaperones and mentors.
This book follows the teenagers’ erotic and exotic adventures and experiences at their fourth Arabian Household, the Assalamu Alaikum (Peace Be with You) Harem. There, they became confidants to a sheik, assistants to his numerous international ventures, especially that of a film production: “Kāmasūtra - Lover’s Tale.” The teenagers continue to apprentice and model in a controversial photography project, “Sacred Sex in Sacred Places.”
This story is an account of the author’s experiences. Through these truths, often demonized by contemporary societies that deem such behaviors inappropriate, the author hopes to dispel condemnation and negativity related to sexuality, love, and personal freedom.
A Harem Boy’s Saga series - Film Contract has been secured with an independent UK Producer, operating in Hollywood.
Young alias Bernard Foong is, first and foremost, a sensitivist. He finds nuance in everything. To experience the world he inhabits is an adventure which is mystical, childlike and refreshing. He has a rare ability to create beauty in a unique fashion. His palettes have been material, paint, words and human experiences.
Watch Life on Maui with Steven Freid ~ Guest: Bernard Foong, Author
“Norway of Arabia”
“Sex is emotion in motion.”
Mae West
Our helicopter flew towards the picturesque Musandam Dibba Al Hisn, a hidden pene exclave that belonged to Sharjah but was located within the Sultanate of Oman (and which the Omanis referred to as the ‘Norway of Arabia’). I was awed by the imposing mountains and the rugged coastline that surrounded the fertile Gulf of Oman, where colorful marine life swam placidly within this aquamarine sanctuary.
It was of little wonder that Fahrib chose this haven to dock his competitive vessel in readiness for his upcoming Acapulco race. His luxury sailboat was primed and ready for us when we arrived at the marina.
In normal circumstances, Fahrib’s crew would be at the ready to set sail as soon as their commander-in-chief gave them a thumb up. In this instance, the crew members consisted of Jabril, Victor, Andy, me, and a handsome Arabian compadre of the sheik whom I had not met before. When our host introduced him as Tad, he said, “My sailing buddy here is a ‘gift from Allah.’”
The man riposted jestingly. “Are you referring to yourself, Fahrib?” before he gave our captain a fraternal hug. The Arabs laughed at their insider’s joke while we looked on with befuddlement, though I would soon discover that this man was indeed a gift to any who had the opportunity to experience his sexual prowess.
As I stood watching our attractive crew get the boat in motion, a sense of freedom overcame me. Suddenly, it dawned on me why my Master kept coming to the “Norway of Arabia” – not only to get away from his nagging wives, but most importantly, to disappear from the madding crowd and from his public identity.
This narrow entryway that protrudes into the Strait of Hormuz and into the Persian Gulf from the Arabian Peninsula had given rise to a hidden paradise, a place for the unsolicitous to rediscover equilibrium within their harrowed souls. It was a safe haven for the next in line to the throne to set aside what was expected of him and to simply be a man whose carnal desire happens to be for his own sex. In us he’d found valiant camaraderie, a roborant masculinity as old as ancient Hellenism and as new as contemporary bromance.
As soon as we were out of sight of dry land, Tad advocated we strip bare to enhance our seafaring experience. Jabril seconded his motion, followed by our commander-in-chief. We E.R.O.S. recruits had no qualms being naked, and neither did Victor, who was an ex Enlightened Royal Oracle Society member.
As each of us revealed our nakedness, Sharjah’s cover-ups and pretexts seemed to tumble away. I felt liberated from society’s constraints as my last item of clothing was discarded.
The sheik’s playful bon mot with his pal certainly proved true when he revealed all of himself. Tad’s and Fahrib’s imposing looks, combined with their formidable endowments, were impressive to behold. I couldn’t help but steal secret glances at their ‘Allah’s gifts to mankind.’ They were not just majestic in girth but resplendent in length, even when flaccid. Any hot-blooded male or female to witness such plumpness would undoubtedly deem my perception accurate. It was of little wonder our captain’s wives craved their husband’s attention.
Comfortable in our skins, we cruised along the majestic mountains, the sweltering sun beating upon the fjords of Oman. The steamy crew had fuelled my heightened libido as my erection bobbed to the rhythmic motion of the rocking boat. We made no effort to hide our arousal as we worked tirelessly at our assigned chores.
Captain Fahrib had assigned me as an assistant steerage to Tad, the red-hot Arabian helmsman. My job was to help him keep the boat’s wheel in check so wind wouldn’t steer the vessel off course. He said jokingly while studying a map, “Ready about… hard-a-lee?”
I stared at him, befuddled. He laughed at my nautical ignorance.
“What? What did you say?” I queried in all seriousness.
He smiled wryly at my erection before answering, “Don’t be embarrassed by your excitement. We sailors are in tune with nature’s wonders.” He made no effort not to look at my length. He resumed, “Even though we take japes at nautical idioms when sailing in the buff.” He gave me a cursory look.
Up until this juncture, I’d had no idea that the helmsman was an accomplished member of the sheik’s sailing team, bound for the 1968 Summer Olympics, not to mention being a champion polo player and a titlist camel racer.
I gave the man a comely smile before inquiring, “What’s hard-a-lee?”
Instead of responding, he tapped my erection, which bounced uncontrollably. His hardness had grown during our flirtatious intercourse, its bulbaceous size stirring my concupiscence to flutter as his sturdy hand stroked me into a dizzying spell. He pulled me to him, French kissing me passionately.
Spellbound by his erotic expertise, I lost all sense of propriety. The feel of his bearded chin and hairy chest spawned my stiffness to drum incessantly against his furry torso.
I had desired this sinewy helmsman from the moment we met. When he gave me the traditional nose-to-nose greeting, he’d stared at me unflinchingly. He had claimed my person with his assertive eyes then; now, thrills of chilling excitement coursed through my body as he cupped and squeezed my buttocks, teasing my tenderness with his manly hands. He inserted his fingers into my opening, claiming my cloven his.
As we continued our alluring foreplay, the boat had drifted into an aquiline cove. It was then that I noticed my beloved Andy observing us by the doorway. My Valet gave me his approval to continue appeasing the beguiling athlete as he stared, mesmerized, at our erotic performance. He, like me, was entranced by Tad’s virility. He was witnessing a reflective manifestation of our intimate moments together in which I had surrendered myself fully to his maleness, as I did now to the helmsman.
My chaperone needed no invitation. He knelt to suckle our thumping palpitations simultaneously as we jabbed into his craving throat. This hallowed ecstasy intensified my hunger for both men. Just then, I felt a pair of hairy arms pinching my bristled nipples from behind. The sheik’s sultry lips caressed my tender neck, seducing me into his web of libidinous captivity. While his jouncing member knocked at my doorway to paradise, I couldn’t help but succumb to this jubilant exultation, when another stimulation seized my searing soul, propelling me into an inferno of pleasurable jouissance.
Jabril’s epicurean tongue rimmed at my anal receptacle before jabbing into my tunnel of love with abandon. His commanding lividity drove my tilting pelvis to receive slivers of his dripping saliva. He was preparing me for the feast of the gods. And I was delighted to suffice.
Much like my Valet relishing the helmsman’s mightiness, Victor devoured the captain’s prowess with avid ferocity. Spittle of beaming wetness coated their organs.
Tad led me above deck while the men followed suit. Pulling me atop a comfortable mattress, I straddled the athlete with aplomb, kissing his succulent mouth with wanton fervency. Quivers of euphoric rhapsody surged through my body when his tumid avidity eased into my passageway of forbidden love. His bouncing gyrations commingled with my lustful kisses brought our hankering spirits into a unified entity. Just as this newfound vivacity took hold, I felt another force in my core. This elevated double entry catapulted me into an uncharted and blissful realm.
The captain and the champion tantalized my tightness with symmetrical cadences as we tangoed to the rhythm of the lapping waves. Tad’s provocative expertise, coalescing with Fahrib’s rousing mastery, hurled my frenzied soul to an intensified crescendo of erotic gratification.
Rainbows of aesthetic enthusiasm flashed before me as Andy and Victor mirrored one another as the Levantine lowered himself onto their throbbing hardness simultaneously. He was at once in agony and ecstasy before his misshapen expression transformed into gleeful entrancement. Heaving sighs of euphoric relief, he accommodated both obelisks with pride.
It was within this circle of debauchery, we effectuated our erotic dance, answering only to the call of the wild. When our prurient desires took hold, we exchanged partners until we had our fill of proliferated succor.
As I rode their ferocities with tumultuous savagery, fanatical flashes of electrifying potencies crashed within me, launching my deliverance over and above my partner’s head. The smashing waves of their burgeoning cogency coated my inner walls, stuffing my core to overflowing capacity.
Before I could attain equilibrium, their relinquishing appetites had triggered another round of firing deposits - Tad’s unrelenting kisses brought on my second cumming while their stiffness continued to rock me into oblivion. Squirts of their molten love burst into the hub of my fervent mortality as I surrendered to this heavenly joyance with blissful contentment.
While the helmsman and the captain took turns lapping up the brimming remnants they had lodged within my willing burrow, I swathed their leaking appendages with ardent gusto before sharing our fill in a three-way kiss.
When I finally looked over at our adjoining trio, they too were apportioning their feed, as we had a moment ago.
At last, we plunged into the cooling aqua, cleansing all traces of our man-to-man love before heading back whence we came.
A Harem Boy’s Saga: A Memoir by Young.
A Harem Boy’s Saga series is published by Solstice Publishing and is available in print, audio and E-books internationally.
A Harem Boy’s Saga series Film Contract has been secured with an independent UK Producer, operating in Hollywood.
A Family's Story of Faith, Love, Adventure, and Turmoil
(East Africa Series Book 1)
No. 1 Bestseller in Travel in Africa.
When Cinda decides to visit her identical twin, Linda, and family in Northern Uganda, little does she know they will soon be running for their lives. How did a relaxing vacation result in a terrifying escape from artillery and automatic gunfire? The answer begins four decades earlier when their parents and family of five children leave everything familiar in America to start life as medical missionaries in rural East Africa.
Three generations of a family’s love, forged by shared faith, struggles, and triumphs, serve them now as they fight for survival.
Cinda grew up with her identical twin, Linda, and three brothers in East Africa where their parents served as medical missionaries. Her nursing, health education, and law enforcement careers combined for a rich twenty-year career teaching fitness, wellness, defensive tactics, and survival at the Texas Game Warden Training Academy. She currently pursues her mission — to unleash the champion in people — through her volunteer work in the Discovery Program and her connections with people that cross her path.
Cinda lives near Austin, Texas, with her husband, Stanley, and Rhodesian ridgeback puppy, Buddy. Among her interests are travel and competitive sports. She is a gold medalist in the World Police and Fire Games in biathlon (running and pistol shooting), rowing, cross country, and cycling.
“Brilliant writing, a heart-stopping adventure, and unforgettable characters make Heartprints of Africa a keeper!”
~Catherine Palmer, Christy Award-winning author of 'A Touch of Betrayal' and 57 other novels.
"Sizzles with the sights, sounds, and smells of her African childhood in the 1960s juxtaposed with a perilous return to that world as an adult. Reading "Heartprints of Africa" is an immersive experience, one that will not be easily forgotten."
~Rita Gardner, author of 'The Coconut Latitudes'.
The first chapter begins when the author’s family is forced to evacuate by foot, in the midst of battle, from home in Northern Uganda. Heartprints of Africa shifts between two time periods: 2004 in the midst of battle and the 1960’s when growing up in rural Tanzania lessons learned from medical missionary parents serve now in a fight for survival.
Book Excerpt—First Paragraph
Chapter 1 Trouble Brews Shida Inakaribia
Uganda 2004
A bullet strikes the tree overhead, solidly emphasizing that the battle approaches. Questions whirl through my mind. Will bolting ourselves behind the storage room door make us safe or corral us in the middle of battle and at the mercy of others? Or do we run into the bush, under the relentless equatorial sun, losing vital contact with possible rescuers? The room is ready and our essential possessions packed. The kids look up, poised to move; their eyes full of trust, courage, and a thread of fear. The decisions and consequences whirl through my heart. My answer chokes on the lump in my throat.
Gwen Knight's top 5 favorite things, in no specific order lol!:
1. Candy
2. Crocheting
3. Reading
4. Her Puppy
5. Her HusbandShe speaks with the dead. He was cursed by them.
Four hundred years ago, a coven of dead witches stripped Caleb Jensen of his soul. Now, his only hope is to convince local necromancer, Autumn Kane, to track down and restore it before his eternal hunger consumes him. Beautiful, powerful, and confident, Autumn is more than Caleb bargained for.
Except, Autumn has problems of her own. The dead are crying for help. A serial killer has begun targeting the young brides of Salem, and she is the only one who can save them. She has no time to break the curse on this rakish man who steals her breath. Everything about him unsettles her, from his dark nature to his wicked allure. He’s no knight in shining armor.
But maybe it's time for a little evil in her life.
Just breathe.
Autumn stood outside the Hawthorne Hotel and shivered when a brisk, fall wind chased up her bare back. This certainly wasn’t how she’d imagined the beginning of her night. She’d barely stepped foot out of her car and people were already staring. For a moment, she debated her decision to attend stag. After she’d hung up the phone, she’d dressed and left for the party, too angry to wait for Riley and Lexi. Unfortunately, that meant there was no buffer between her and the gawkers.
A delicate chime came from the clutch she held under her arm. The third message her sister had sent her in the past fifteen minutes, not that she cared. If she intended to work tonight, she needed a clear mind, sans Riley. With a deep breath, Autumn smoothed down the front of her dress, ignoring that her fingers brushed flesh where a plunging neckline artfully draped down to her navel. Certainly not the impression she’d intended to make. At least now she knew never to trust her sister with her wardrobe again.
Now or never, she assured herself.
The doors opened, and from within came the heavy beat of music. Seemed as though the party was already well under way.
Autumn slipped into the ballroom and paused to take it in. Every year the Festival of the Dead put on a ball. This year’s theme was a masquerade, and they’d decorated accordingly. The center of the room had been cleared for the dance floor, and the tables were adorned with black fabric and grotesque centerpieces, all in the name of Halloween. Ochre lights hung from the ceiling and glimmered against the painted walls. They always outdid themselves.
She perused the crowd, watching as they moved in sync to the music, their faces hidden by a series of beautiful masks. Wonderment filled her stomach when she realized she didn’t recognize anyone. The knowledge filled her with courage. They’d know her eventually when they sought her out to summon the dead. But for now, it seemed she could enjoy the anonymity.
A few turned to watch as she entered, but she brushed their attentiveness aside and instead started toward the hors d’œuvres. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of the Halloween-themed snacks from pumpkin cheese balls to monster cookies.
“Quite the selection,” a voice murmured next to her.
Autumn glanced up with a polite smile. Her gaze tracked up a lean length, taking note of the pristine suit that boasted a muscular physique, but it wasn’t until she caught sight of his startling green gaze shining out from behind a golden mask that she gasped.
Him.
Hell, she’d dreamed of those eyes all night, watching her from amidst the shadows. She took a closer look, her heart sputtering against her chest when she recognized Sadie’s soul. Her hip slammed into the table when she staggered backward.
“Shh, easy now,” he murmured, his hand gripping her elbow and steadying her.
Autumn flicked a glance around the room, noting Dawson and her ex-husband patrolling the far side of the room.
His fingers tensed around her elbow. “Don’t be frightened.”
“You.”
“Me,” he said, nodding.
“I thought you were detained.”
“Funny how the law works. Turns out they can’t detain you when you’re innocent.”
She blinked up at him, startled by the handsome sight. Who the hell was this man? Then his words clicked. “What?”
“I said, I’m innocent. They can’t detain me if I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You ate Sadie!” she exclaimed, wincing when her voice rose above the music.
His face twisted into a grimace. “Wow. That sounded…”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“For the record, I am not a serial killer.”
“No, just a soul-eater.”
He paused, shock widening his eyes as though he hadn’t expected her to put two and two together.
“Necromancer, remember? Did you think I wouldn’t know what you are?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought, truthfully.” He regarded her, his gaze unflinching. “I assure you, though, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”
Autumn’s attention dropped to his mouth, mesmerized by the enticing curve of his lips and his strong jawline. He shot her a smile, as though he knew the direction her thoughts had taken. Clearing her throat, she returned to the conversation. “I doubt that. I have a feeling you cause trouble wherever you go.”
“Ah, guilty,” he teased. “Life is too short to play by the rules.” He canted his head with a wide grin. “Well, too short for most.”
“But not you,” she said.
Autumn knew a little about his kind. Her father had come across one many years ago. She’d been thirteen at the time, so he hadn’t been willing to offer many details. The man had massacred multiple families before her father had managed to contain and destroy him. A soul-eater, her father had said, a creature so evil it fed off the souls of the living as a means of living an eternal life.
Her brow furrowed as she studied the man in front of him. Was he the same as the other? “Did you not notice all the police here tonight?”
That sinful mouth crooked. “Of course I did. Did you not notice my mask?”
Oh, she had. How could she have missed it? As though he wasn’t enigmatic enough, the ebony threads woven up into a beautiful leaf added a mysterious appeal. He’d darkened his skin beneath the mask, highlighting his emerald gaze.
He braved a step closer, and Autumn’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to believe it was the primal rush of fear that had her pulse going, but if it were, she would have made for the nearest police officer. Instead, she tipped her head back and watched as he closed the distance between them.
“Dance with me.” Not a question, but a demand.
Autumn blinked. “What? You’re insane.”
“Possibly. But insane would be not asking you to dance.” He leaned in toward her. “You look so beautiful tonight.”
His words warmed her stomach, but still, she narrowed her eyes. “As opposed to every other night?”
Most men might have balked at such a response, but this one merely tilted his head as the corners of his mouth pulled up in amusement. “I don’t know, yet. Ask me again tomorrow.”
Autumn couldn’t help but chuckle. “A smooth talker, I see.”
“The original smooth talker,” he assured her. “Now, about that dance?”
Before she could protest, his hand ghosted up the length of her back, and he led her out onto the dance floor. Autumn’s breath caught as they moved, the rich scent of his cologne teasing her nose. She should have been afraid, especially after last night, but for some reason, she was more nervous than anything else. She was safe here with half the city’s police force on patrol. Not that she was looking at them. She could barely tear her eyes away from her dance partner.
“Shall we?” He turned toward her and offered his other hand, brow arched as though daring her to resist.
“On one condition.”
His other brow rose.
“Your name.”
A smooth chuckle rose to her ears. “Ah. Forgive me. Here I thought your police friend would have told you everything about me.”
She shook her head.
“Caleb Jensen,” he said after inclining his head in an old gesture she’d only seen in the movies. He stepped up flush against her and wound an arm around her waist. “And you, my dear, are Autumn Kane, necromancer extraordinaire.”
Her breath caught the moment his fingers grazed the small of her back, as though his touch awakened her entire body. She cast a demure smile, then slid her hand in his and gazed up at him from under her lashes. “Am I supposed to be impressed that you know about me?”
“Hardly.” On the next beat, they started to dance.
He moved with singular purpose, and their bodies harmonized as he led them around the room.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
He eased her out into a gentle spin before guiding her back into his chest. His head bent low, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “Amazing the things one can learn from the Internet.”
Autumn’s eyes fluttered shut, her heart hammering in her chest as she inhaled his scent. “You realize you’re stalking me, right?”
“I like to think of it more as studying an investment.” He leaned back and draped her body against his side, bracing her weight without breaking stride. “As I tried to tell you last night, I require your help.”
“With what?”
He tsked her, then spun her once more before leading her through the room. “Can’t we finish our dance before discussing business?”
Yes, please. The man certainly knew his way around the dance floor, and though surprising, she was enjoying herself. The feel of his body shifting against her, of his hand warm against her skin as he led her in circles. The logical part of her brain scolded her, told her she shouldn’t be enjoying this. The man had practically abducted her the night before. But the darker half of her soul yearned for this, to come alive beneath someone’s touch again.
A frightening notion that almost had her running home.
This was not the one to come alive for. He’d snatched her off the streets and dragged her into an empty house. He’d devoured Sadie’s soul. He’s the villain, her head screamed at her.
He brushed a hand through her hair and down her jaw. “Keep dancing with me, Autumn.”
Holding his gaze, she nodded.
She’d done the whole white knight in shining armor thing. Hell, once upon a time, she’d married a police officer, and it had been disastrous. Maybe it was time for a little evil in her life. Gwen Knight is a Canadian girl currently living in Edmonton, AB. She graduated from the University of Lethbridge with a degree in Archaeology and Geography. Her interests consist of playing in the dirt, designing elaborate snow forts, boating, and archery.
Gwen Knight's top 5 favorite things, in no specific order lol!:
1. Candy
2. Crocheting
3. Reading
4. Her Puppy
5. Her HusbandShe speaks with the dead. He was cursed by them.
Four hundred years ago, a coven of dead witches stripped Caleb Jensen of his soul. Now, his only hope is to convince local necromancer, Autumn Kane, to track down and restore it before his eternal hunger consumes him. Beautiful, powerful, and confident, Autumn is more than Caleb bargained for.
Except, Autumn has problems of her own. The dead are crying for help. A serial killer has begun targeting the young brides of Salem, and she is the only one who can save them. She has no time to break the curse on this rakish man who steals her breath. Everything about him unsettles her, from his dark nature to his wicked allure. He’s no knight in shining armor.
But maybe it's time for a little evil in her life.
Just breathe.
Autumn stood outside the Hawthorne Hotel and shivered when a brisk, fall wind chased up her bare back. This certainly wasn’t how she’d imagined the beginning of her night. She’d barely stepped foot out of her car and people were already staring. For a moment, she debated her decision to attend stag. After she’d hung up the phone, she’d dressed and left for the party, too angry to wait for Riley and Lexi. Unfortunately, that meant there was no buffer between her and the gawkers.
A delicate chime came from the clutch she held under her arm. The third message her sister had sent her in the past fifteen minutes, not that she cared. If she intended to work tonight, she needed a clear mind, sans Riley. With a deep breath, Autumn smoothed down the front of her dress, ignoring that her fingers brushed flesh where a plunging neckline artfully draped down to her navel. Certainly not the impression she’d intended to make. At least now she knew never to trust her sister with her wardrobe again.
Now or never, she assured herself.
The doors opened, and from within came the heavy beat of music. Seemed as though the party was already well under way.
Autumn slipped into the ballroom and paused to take it in. Every year the Festival of the Dead put on a ball. This year’s theme was a masquerade, and they’d decorated accordingly. The center of the room had been cleared for the dance floor, and the tables were adorned with black fabric and grotesque centerpieces, all in the name of Halloween. Ochre lights hung from the ceiling and glimmered against the painted walls. They always outdid themselves.
She perused the crowd, watching as they moved in sync to the music, their faces hidden by a series of beautiful masks. Wonderment filled her stomach when she realized she didn’t recognize anyone. The knowledge filled her with courage. They’d know her eventually when they sought her out to summon the dead. But for now, it seemed she could enjoy the anonymity.
A few turned to watch as she entered, but she brushed their attentiveness aside and instead started toward the hors d’œuvres. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of the Halloween-themed snacks from pumpkin cheese balls to monster cookies.
“Quite the selection,” a voice murmured next to her.
Autumn glanced up with a polite smile. Her gaze tracked up a lean length, taking note of the pristine suit that boasted a muscular physique, but it wasn’t until she caught sight of his startling green gaze shining out from behind a golden mask that she gasped.
Him.
Hell, she’d dreamed of those eyes all night, watching her from amidst the shadows. She took a closer look, her heart sputtering against her chest when she recognized Sadie’s soul. Her hip slammed into the table when she staggered backward.
“Shh, easy now,” he murmured, his hand gripping her elbow and steadying her.
Autumn flicked a glance around the room, noting Dawson and her ex-husband patrolling the far side of the room.
His fingers tensed around her elbow. “Don’t be frightened.”
“You.”
“Me,” he said, nodding.
“I thought you were detained.”
“Funny how the law works. Turns out they can’t detain you when you’re innocent.”
She blinked up at him, startled by the handsome sight. Who the hell was this man? Then his words clicked. “What?”
“I said, I’m innocent. They can’t detain me if I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You ate Sadie!” she exclaimed, wincing when her voice rose above the music.
His face twisted into a grimace. “Wow. That sounded…”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“For the record, I am not a serial killer.”
“No, just a soul-eater.”
He paused, shock widening his eyes as though he hadn’t expected her to put two and two together.
“Necromancer, remember? Did you think I wouldn’t know what you are?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought, truthfully.” He regarded her, his gaze unflinching. “I assure you, though, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”
Autumn’s attention dropped to his mouth, mesmerized by the enticing curve of his lips and his strong jawline. He shot her a smile, as though he knew the direction her thoughts had taken. Clearing her throat, she returned to the conversation. “I doubt that. I have a feeling you cause trouble wherever you go.”
“Ah, guilty,” he teased. “Life is too short to play by the rules.” He canted his head with a wide grin. “Well, too short for most.”
“But not you,” she said.
Autumn knew a little about his kind. Her father had come across one many years ago. She’d been thirteen at the time, so he hadn’t been willing to offer many details. The man had massacred multiple families before her father had managed to contain and destroy him. A soul-eater, her father had said, a creature so evil it fed off the souls of the living as a means of living an eternal life.
Her brow furrowed as she studied the man in front of him. Was he the same as the other? “Did you not notice all the police here tonight?”
That sinful mouth crooked. “Of course I did. Did you not notice my mask?”
Oh, she had. How could she have missed it? As though he wasn’t enigmatic enough, the ebony threads woven up into a beautiful leaf added a mysterious appeal. He’d darkened his skin beneath the mask, highlighting his emerald gaze.
He braved a step closer, and Autumn’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to believe it was the primal rush of fear that had her pulse going, but if it were, she would have made for the nearest police officer. Instead, she tipped her head back and watched as he closed the distance between them.
“Dance with me.” Not a question, but a demand.
Autumn blinked. “What? You’re insane.”
“Possibly. But insane would be not asking you to dance.” He leaned in toward her. “You look so beautiful tonight.”
His words warmed her stomach, but still, she narrowed her eyes. “As opposed to every other night?”
Most men might have balked at such a response, but this one merely tilted his head as the corners of his mouth pulled up in amusement. “I don’t know, yet. Ask me again tomorrow.”
Autumn couldn’t help but chuckle. “A smooth talker, I see.”
“The original smooth talker,” he assured her. “Now, about that dance?”
Before she could protest, his hand ghosted up the length of her back, and he led her out onto the dance floor. Autumn’s breath caught as they moved, the rich scent of his cologne teasing her nose. She should have been afraid, especially after last night, but for some reason, she was more nervous than anything else. She was safe here with half the city’s police force on patrol. Not that she was looking at them. She could barely tear her eyes away from her dance partner.
“Shall we?” He turned toward her and offered his other hand, brow arched as though daring her to resist.
“On one condition.”
His other brow rose.
“Your name.”
A smooth chuckle rose to her ears. “Ah. Forgive me. Here I thought your police friend would have told you everything about me.”
She shook her head.
“Caleb Jensen,” he said after inclining his head in an old gesture she’d only seen in the movies. He stepped up flush against her and wound an arm around her waist. “And you, my dear, are Autumn Kane, necromancer extraordinaire.”
Her breath caught the moment his fingers grazed the small of her back, as though his touch awakened her entire body. She cast a demure smile, then slid her hand in his and gazed up at him from under her lashes. “Am I supposed to be impressed that you know about me?”
“Hardly.” On the next beat, they started to dance.
He moved with singular purpose, and their bodies harmonized as he led them around the room.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
He eased her out into a gentle spin before guiding her back into his chest. His head bent low, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “Amazing the things one can learn from the Internet.”
Autumn’s eyes fluttered shut, her heart hammering in her chest as she inhaled his scent. “You realize you’re stalking me, right?”
“I like to think of it more as studying an investment.” He leaned back and draped her body against his side, bracing her weight without breaking stride. “As I tried to tell you last night, I require your help.”
“With what?”
He tsked her, then spun her once more before leading her through the room. “Can’t we finish our dance before discussing business?”
Yes, please. The man certainly knew his way around the dance floor, and though surprising, she was enjoying herself. The feel of his body shifting against her, of his hand warm against her skin as he led her in circles. The logical part of her brain scolded her, told her she shouldn’t be enjoying this. The man had practically abducted her the night before. But the darker half of her soul yearned for this, to come alive beneath someone’s touch again.
A frightening notion that almost had her running home.
This was not the one to come alive for. He’d snatched her off the streets and dragged her into an empty house. He’d devoured Sadie’s soul. He’s the villain, her head screamed at her.
He brushed a hand through her hair and down her jaw. “Keep dancing with me, Autumn.”
Holding his gaze, she nodded.
She’d done the whole white knight in shining armor thing. Hell, once upon a time, she’d married a police officer, and it had been disastrous. Maybe it was time for a little evil in her life. Gwen Knight is a Canadian girl currently living in Edmonton, AB. She graduated from the University of Lethbridge with a degree in Archaeology and Geography. Her interests consist of playing in the dirt, designing elaborate snow forts, boating, and archery.
