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Sunday, July 31, 2011

Sci Fi Sunday! - Reality Check

Greetings Loved Ones! Welcome to Sci Fi Sunday!
It's time for our weekly Sci Fi fix-- Reality Check -- I hope you are all enjoying it. This is the third episode and a good one it is too. Reality Check is a story that Julie Lynn Hayes and I are writing together. We hope you enjoy our efforts as we are having a blast writing it. Please feel free to check out Julie's blog at Full Moon Dreaming

Please remember this is a M/M SciFi Romance. If you do not like gay romance and are turned off by beautiful men loving other beautiful men, I would suggest you leave this site. But if you enjoy men kissing, loving and hot messy sex, well welcome to the party.

Reality Check - Chapter 2 : 07/31/11
I know that he’s coming over to welcome me home, this native person. Surely he doesn’t have a man servant with him? No, wouldn’t think so. Maybe a friend or relative. He’s rather attractive for being one of them. I find myself staring at the colors in his hair, smirking to myself, anticipating his words. He’ll be obsequious, of course. As befitting his station.  He’ll be awestruck, at coming face to face with me, his beautiful prince. And  he’ll be afraid to ask if I’d like to dance.

Damn, there is something very compelling about him. The closer he comes… I mean the closer he’s coming… I’m having a definite reaction to him, how strange. Why? I mean, I know he’s a male, and he’s very attractive. No, I didn’t say that. I mean that he’s good looking and sexy.  Wait, no, I’m confusing myself.

Why do I want to have sex with him so badly? I don’t even know him, but I’m drawn to him. This is… awkward.

There, he’s in front of my parents now. I try to calm myself down, especially my little prince, who is standing at attention. He’ll make his little speech, and ask his question, and then…

What the Nuverian fuck?  He wants to court who? I grit my teeth, count to ten, but I only get to two.

Who just yelled? Oh heavens and stars and everything I hold most holy, it was me.

My sister is elbowing me, my father has just turned those eyes on me. The ones that say you and I will talk about this later. And my mother has steamrolled over my objection like I never made it.

“Welcome to you both. Permission is granted.”


Oops, that’s me again.

They’re both looking at me. Him and his… his what?  Oh yeah, brother. I did hear that much. What’s his name? The brother or the hot one? How should I know? Oh  hell, yes, he did say. What is it? I can only remember Reno. That’s the sex god’s name.

What the smick is wrong with me? This is going all wrong. He has not asked me to dance. In fact, he’s looking at Luci. She’s looking at me. Or is she looking at the brother? I’m so confused.
Damn this, damn this all. I’m not sitting still for this! I stamp my foot to show my anger, just as the first dance number of the evening begins.

Without conscious thought, perhaps because at the moment I’m being led about by my cock, I grab Reno’s hand, and pull him with me to the dance floor.

“We’re dancing!” I announce. To whom? I have no idea and I don’t care.


Her father said no? Wait a minute, this was all pre-arranged. I stand up so abruptly, my head begins to swim.

“Welcome to you both. Our permission is granted,” Queen Kaerlighed says with a gracious smile for me and my brother, while King Liefde glares at the Princeling. Wonderful!  The Princeling is against the idea of a native courting his sister. Well, I have news for you, little spoiled man, this native is decidedly not too pleased about the situation either. So shove that up your ass sideways, you bigot.

“NOOOOOOOO!” the Princeling screams and stomps his feet, drawing my unwilling attention to him. And that of everyone else in the immediate vicinity. Damn if he isn’t just adorable when he throws his little temper tantrums. It’s too bad—“We’re dancing!”

NO… Wait! I want to scream out as my arm is being wrenched out of its socket and he’s dragging me—yes, literally dragging me— onto the dance floor.

“I’m sorry, your Highnesses. I swear this was not our intention. I—I truly—” Jaou stammers in shock.

I catch my brother’s eye and shrug my shoulders as well as I am able as I’m dragged through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Who am I to look badly on a gift from the gods? If the Princeling wants a dance, than so be it. The inevitable has been put off for at least a few minutes and, on the plus side, I get to hold this beauty in my arms. All of his anger seems to be evaporating as we take our places. I offer my hands to him, palm up. He’s the one dragging me to the dance floor, I’ll be damned if I’ll play the female role. He will be in my arms, not the other way around. I’m smirking at him, trying my hardest not to chuckle as I wait for him to decide if he will continue this joke—assuming that’s what it is— and dance with me, or go off in a fit of temper. I fear the latter. God, I hope he stays and lets me hold him, even if it’s just for a few moments. Before I have to retreat back to the reality and I am made to hold his sister. If I can hold him first, then maybe I can forever imagine him in my arms, instead of her, and just maybe I can do as my mother bids.

Although, it still won’t be willingly.


He’s holding his hands up as if he thinks I’m going to dance the female part? Is he kidding me? But I’ve decided I really want to dance with him, don’t ask me why. My mind isn’t working quite right at the moment. No comment. I scowl at him even as I place my hands daintily into his and our bodies begin to move together.

“You will not date my sister.” There, I’ve told him, and put my foot down at the same time. Oops, I didn’t just step on his toes, did I? No, I don’t think I did, anyway.

Funny, but he doesn’t really seem upset that I’ve just forbidden him to do what he came here to do. Why not? I’m confused.

“I wish that could be true,” he admits, pulling back from me long enough to demonstrate some fancy footwork, before resuming his place beside me once again. “Unfortunately, my mother and yours have different ideas. This wasn’t exactly what I’d planned to do with the rest of my life either, you know.” He takes my  hands, and we find that our steps are perfectly coordinated, as if we’ve practiced them. Of course, we haven’t. What do our bodies know that we don’t?

I must say that his hands feel very nice. And he smells good too. Wait just a minute here, why am I going along with this? Because for some reason my cock is telling me to? “Then the solution seems simple to me,” I reply, tossing my head in a light and airy movement. Too bad I didn’t wear long jangly earrings, that would have been a nice effect. “So simple, surely even one of you can see it. Just say no. N. O. No. See?”

He seems to find my words amusing, for some reason. His laughter seems almost mirthless. “Even one of us, as you so delicately put it, does not say no to our ruler. I could hardly go against not only my ruler’s wishes but yours as well, could I? Unfortunately , I’m not allowed to throw temper tantrums and stomp my pretty little feet to get my way.” He touches his finger to my arm, smiling at me. I think I may have just been insulted, so I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I am the prince.” Doesn’t he realize that I am allowed to act as I please?

“Yes, you are,” he replies in a voice that is going right through me and around me, but I don’t understand why that is. Only that I want him to keep touching me. “And quite a lovely prince at that. Unfortunately that still doesn’t give me the power to go against our parents, I’m here for your sister, even though I wish it would be otherwise.”

It’s time I regained some measure of control here, before I completely lose it to this… this… native person. With a damn sexy smile. “Do you know you have an unfortunate habit of saying unfortunate?” I riposte, before his words echo back in my ears and I really hear them. “Wait, what do you mean, you wish it could be otherwise? What are you suggesting?” He turns slightly, our thighs manage to bump together, and suddenly I feel as if I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Reno sighs, very prettily. I have to refrain from holding him against my breast and offering him comfort. We’re in public, after all. I’m still surprised that I’m actually dancing with one of the locals, here, in front of everyone. I follow his glance, seeking a clue to his sigh, and then I do a double take as I see his brother leading my sister out onto the dance floor. Wait, should she be doing that?

“What I’m saying is that your sister’s lovely and I would never wish to insult her, but the truth is I am not attracted to females. My mother is aware of this and yet here I am.”

I try to keep them in view, even as Reno rotates me, almost missing a step. I recover quickly, noticing that Luci and the brother are dancing far too closely for my liking. But maybe that can turn out to be a good thing, I’m not sure. “Damn straight she’s lovely,” I tell him “If you were ever to insult her, I’d be forced to kill you and that would be a waste of a fucking hot sexy man like yourself.” Did I really just say that? Where is my mind? Is it completely in my cock?

His jaw drops, as if I’ve just surprised him, but he quickly recovers. “You could try, but I wouldn’t really recommend it. My people may not care for violence, but it doesn’t mean we can’t defend ourselves. Besides, I like that pretty head right where it is, firmly attached to your shoulders.” He runs a finger down my neck and before I can react, he takes my hand and spins me out, like a top. My skirt floats about me prettily, and I feel a definite breeze against my hot nether regions, and then he draws me in again, and I feel myself being held tightly against him, my back to his chest, our arms crossed together. I could not wish to be in a better position at this moment.

My head is reeling, and all I can manage to say is, “Oh my.” It’s a weak statement, yeah, but I’m trying to make some sense out of what’s happening. My body reacts first, and I’m grinding backwards against this man who holds me. I suspect if I try, I might just find something back there which will be a big clue as to how this Reno is feeling about things. About me. Actually, I want to find it, very much.

I hear his groan, his breath is warm against my ear. So why is he spinning me out again? I want to feel him so badly.


I had to do it. I had to get him out of my embrace. I mean, the slightest step to the right and he’d have been grinding his ass right against my hard cock, and I’m barely controlling myself as it is. I’ve no wish to embarrass either one of us, before the guests, or his parents. I find I’m not willing to lose touch with him for long, however, as I reel him back into my arms, and we resume the steps of the dance. “Do we dare go somewhere private for this… conversation?” I whisper for his ears alone.

I can see that I’ve confused him. He’s probably used to being the one in charge, but he’s never been with me before, has he? I feel him virtually melting against me, and he’s not objecting, so I guess he doesn’t mind. Oh gods, I can feel my body throbbing and pulsing, and he’s trembling, sending my desires soaring. How long can I hold out, keep from expressing my desire for him? Oh yes, he’s speaking.

“The question is do we dare stay here and have this, um, conversation? I opt for moving our… words… to the terrace. Why don’t I show you my… blossoms?

Is that meant to be a euphemism? I certainly hope so.

 “You show me your blossoms and I’ll show you mine.” I make an executive decision; taking the lovely prince’s hand, I guide him off the dance floor and through a few scattered people out to the terrace. There’re a few other like-minded people, scattered about the garden, not close enough to be annoying. I glance about, choosing a tree with long droopy branches. I pull him into its shade, hiding us away from prying eyes. He certainly isn’t struggling. I get the feeling that he’s no innocent. Good.

As I kiss him, I hear his faint protest of, “I’m the prince,” but even as he speaks the feeble words, his body is quite hard against mine, and I’ve reason to believe that what he does, he does most willingly.

I bury my fingers into his hair and hold his head close. Our lips graze over each other, in askance, pleading for—needing more, then sealing as my moan disappears into the depths of his mouth. I can’t believe that I’m actually holding the Prince this way. I’m dominating him, my lips on his—forcing him to my will and he’s letting me, encouraging me to take the lead. The heir to the throne and everything. Despite some of the rather rude and ignorant comments he’s spouted from this lovely mouth, as he’s grinding against my thigh, I  forgive him with thoughts of spanking his naughty ass when we’re alone, to teach him proper manners of course. I cannot get enough of this princeling, this beautiful human man. What in the world am I going to do? Who cares? My concerns fly away on the wind, with the breeze that ruffles the leaves of the tree. I feel his tongue diving into my mouth; I let him take command of the kiss, and I lose myself in him.

“We have to go somewhere else,” he murmurs into my lips, “somewhere more… horizontal… and definitely more comfortable.  I’m not about to lower my dignity by lying on the ground like a common peasant, how vulgar is that?” His hands snake beneath my skirt, I feel them moving up and up until he grasps me in his warm fingers. He’ll be surprised, I think, when he actually sees what it looks like. “I’d say my place or yours, but yours is simply out of the question.

I let the obvious insult go in the name of international relations, and the painful ache in my cock. “Yes, my Prince,” I respond, “I’d say mine is quite out of the question. Besides, I don’t think I’d care to ride a horse with that under my skirt.” Meaning my erection, of course. I decide turn about is fair play, and I reach beneath his the white satin flounces to palm his own growing hardness. I lean in to nibble his lower lip as I stroke his length, allowing him to grind against my palm. “So, do you want to drop to your knees, your highness? Oh, but then you would get grass stains on those pretty knees.” Funny, it sounds sarcastic, but I really do mean it. He couldn’t return to the party with such undignified marks on his person. I would never embarrass him in such a manner.

Although he is writhing against me like he’s about to lose his princely mind, the Prince’s eyes snap open, and I hear the indignation in his voice at my suggestion. “Drop to my knees?” But the rest of my words mollify him and he proceeds to melt further into my embrace. “I would have you carry me to my room.” Well, if that doesn’t sound rather submissive, I don’t know what does. He’s gazing at me with lust-glazed eyes—I love it.

I hope you enjoyed this weeks Reality Check. Until next week... 
Wishing you Love and Butterflies, 
Sui Lynn~~

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Silver Flash - Foxe and Hund : 3

Greetings Loved Ones!
Welcome to this week's Silver Flash! I hope you are all enjoying TJ Foxe and Zane Hund. Hund is becoming a bit of a stalker, but I think we are beginning to get a feeling for the Detective. 

Just a reminder this is a M/M Romance, so if you aren't interested in beautiful men in love with each other, then this is not the site for you. If you enjoy a good gay romance with lots of love and hot men, then this is the place for you.  Please enjoy.

As always, wishing you Love and Butterflies,
Sui Lynn~~

 Foxe and Hund 3 07/27/11 – “The color of night” or “caveat emptor”

“Hey baby, wanna party?” TJ flaunted his goods; the two female officers alongside him were doing the same. Their game plan was to take their ‘johns’ to the room-by-the-hour hotel down the block where officers waited to arrest the eager Lotharios. The johns would then be taken downtown for questioning. TJ and the girls were already starting to get to know some of the other street workers they shared their corner with.

The part TJ found the most disturbing was the age of the workers, both male and female—if they were 18, he’d be amazed. Sure, some were obviously of age, but most of these streetwalkers were kids working to get their next fix.

“I got a little somethin’ special for you right here,” TJ called to a slowly passing car, putting a hand on his hip and arching his back, while wiggling his ass suggestively.  When the car rolled on, TJ rolled his eyes and acted put out; it was all part of the show. Part of TJ really hated the wanton behavior and innuendo he dished out, but it had become a shield for him. A way to protect himself from the ugly slurs and violence that surrounded him. The make up, the wild clothing, the painted nails—yes they were a part of him and he would sooner give up his right arm as give up this part of himself; he just wished he didn’t have to do this. But even that wasn’t quite right—he loved his job. He loved being an officer and making things better for others.

“Fucking faggot!” A man in a car screamed out the window and threw a beer bottle at him. TJ dodged, avoiding the shattered glass but not the spatter of beer.

“Asshole!” TJ yelled back. Poor comeback, but he’d been too preoccupied to come up with better. Ugh, he hated smelling like beer. His girls were at his side almost instantly.

“You okay, baby?” Penny asked. She was on one side, Josey on the other.

“I’m fine, beautiful.” He always addressed Penny as Beautiful and Josey as Gorgeous. They didn’t use their real names on the street.

“Doesn’t look like you were cut.” Josey had pulled out some tissues from somewhere and was trying to dry off some of the mess. TJ didn’t want to think about where it could’ve been hidden in her tight sequin outfit.

“Nope, just wet.”

“You want to call it a night?” Penny asked. They’d been out here for hours, it was well past two am and the bar crowd had been chased out nearly an hour ago, bartime. The traffic was light now and even the professional workers were starting to abandon the streets in order to crash for the night. Some disappeared down dark alleys, some into abandoned buildings; some of the higher priced whores were picked up by their pimps in cars, headed for other jobs.

“Hey, boy,” a voice called from a car that’d just pulled up in front of TJ and the girls.

TJ flashed a mischievous smile and strutted his way to the car, leaning in the passenger’s side window. “You lookin’ for a party, baby?”
Zane Hund sat in his car, watching the night’s arrests. He’d barely been able to maintain his covert position when that asshat had thrown a bottle at TJ. He hated what TJ did. He hated the fact TJ put himself on the line nightly, catching perverts, trying to get information from other workers about Macaroni. He knew all those kids being on the street really bothered TJ. The man practically made it a crusade to clear the streets of drugs and get the kids into shelters instead of being homeless and hooking. The problem was that Zane was attracted to the man—his fire, his determination, his values, his hot hot body.

At the office, TJ was looked down upon by practically everyone. He wore gold lamé and sequin like the knights of old wore plate armor. He was close with his partners; the two women were devoted to him in the way mother pitbulls were to their pups. Nobody dared to say two words against TJ in their presence and lived to tell about it, but behind their back, TJ seemed to be everyone’s favorite joke.

The problem was Zane put on a front himself; he was a hardass at work. He’d worked this job long enough to be cynical and distrustful of the entire human race. Cops were no better than anyone else. He’d seen good cops go bad and bad cops save lives. He wanted TJ. He’d no illusions regarding himself; although he didn’t flaunt it, he wasn’t exactly in the closet. But he’d never had a serious relationship, preferring the company of his right hand or an occasional one night stand. Even used a glory hole occasionally, to satisfy his baser needs.

What he wanted from TJ had little to do with his carnal desires. He wanted to protect the little man like he was spun glass, pack him in cotton like a treasure, and keep him safe from the horrors of the world. How fucking twisted was that? The man was definitely not made of glass, more like diamond. Nothing scratched his surface, even the most hateful slurs that were hollered at him ran like off like water off a duck’s back. Zane marveled at the man’s strength.

The street was empty, except for the officers closing in from the side street, TJ and his girls. Zane almost laughed when he heard TJ arrest the man who’d propositioned him.

“Sorry, man. You’re under arrest.”

“What the hell is this?”

“Caveat emptor, man… Buyer beware.” TJ laughed as the man was handcuffed and put into a squad car. TJ wrapped an arm around both his girls and walked towards the car ramp and their unmarked SUV.

Zane started his car, waiting until he saw the SUV pull out of the garage, before heading home.

Silver Flashers

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Sci Fi Sunday! - Reality Check

Greetings Loved Ones! Welcome to Sci Fi Sunday!

It's time for our weekly Sci Fi fix-- Reality Check -- I hope you are all enjoying it. This is the third episode and a good one it is too. Reality Check is a story that Julie Lynn Hayes and I are writing together. We hope you enjoy our efforts as we are having a blast writing it. 

Please remember this is a M/M SciFi Romance. If you do not like gay romance and are turned off by beautiful men loving other beautiful men, I would suggest you leave this site. But if you enjoy men kissing, loving and hot messy sex, well welcome to the party.

Reality Check - Chapter 2 : 07/24/11
The reception is an unqualified success. There is no doubt that I am the belle of the ball!

People have come from all over the planet just to welcome me home. And why not? I’ve been gone for four long years. I’m very pleased to see them all, even if some of them have come with what I consider to be dishonorable intentions—that is, the wooing of my baby sister. She’s too young to be thinking in terms of marriage yet. She’s barely gotten into long skirts, for crying out loud. Give her a chance to grow up first before you marry her off, Mother. What’s the rush? She has time. I’m the heir, after all. And even I am not ready to be wed.

Everyone’s very happy to see me, and I am showered with compliments and accolades and hugs. And compliments on my ensemble. I haven’t been hugged this much since I left home. I’m here to tell you this is one touchy feely planet. I’m not surprised, though. They all love me—I’m their darling crown prince. And I’m without question the most beautiful person here.

There is only one blemish that mars the beauty of my homecoming, and he’s here too, unfortunately. Orm Schlangeleben. My father’s vizier and personal adviser. I consider him no better than a wart upon my father’s hand—just about as attractive, and with a similar personality. A nastier man I never met. He has a nose large enough to bathe a small child in, and all of the charm of a sexually transmitted disease. Why my father cannot see that there is something wrong with him, I do not know. When I am king, I shall certainly dispense with the bastard’s services. Not that I am anxious for that to happen any time soon, but waiting for my father to see the truth about this man seems to be a losing proposition. I only wish he’d listen to me about him, but of course he doesn’t, for Father knows best.

The reception encompasses several of the public rooms of the palace, in order to accommodate the large number of guests that are attending. But it’s nothing that the staff can’t handle. They’re trained to do just this sort of thing—receptions, grand dinners, affairs of state. Sometimes at a moment’s notice.  Only the best for the Royal family, don’t you know? Off-world visitors may be scarcer now than they once were, but there are plenty of people that come from the other cities on-planet. Even on days when there is nothing particularly grand going on, people float in and out of the palace for other reasons—seeking to have boons granted, wishes fulfilled, quests blessed. The usual.

My parents hold court in their throne room, which doubles tonight as a ballroom. The dancing will begin here soon. I look forward to that greatly. I’ve managed to get in some dancing while away at university, but not near enough. And I miss the native dances of our people. There is something so very elegant in the movements, something so very majestic—the steps are ingrained in me from childhood, back to the days when my mother was my first dance partner. I know that I was an apt pupil. I can hear the royal orchestra playing even now. Some things never change, praise the stars.

The Blommervermogens have been the ruling family on Rhealliticzk since long before I was born. My father’s father was king, and his father before him, and so on for generations. The current reign of King Liefde and Queen Kærlighed has been an enlightened and popular one. My parents are a very loving and handsome couple. Luci and I have never lacked for anything, especially their love. I hope to be as blessed when it is my turn to rule, and that the people love me even half as well as them.

I feel a rumbling in my intestines, and it occurs to me that in the excitement of preparing for this event, I have neglected to eat. Well, that is easily remedied. I follow my nose in the direction of the heavenly aromas which emanate from the dining hall. Relief for my hunger is but a few steps away!

A magnificent buffet has been set up which contains some of the finest foods our world has to offer. And yes, many are my favorites, as I had anticipated.  I smile regally at everyone I meet along my path, my eyes affixed upon the feast before me. I still manage to offer them my usual blessing—the one reserved for the Royal Family. Two fingers, pointing toward my eyes, then toward the subject. This is to indicate that we are always watching out for our people. There is also a single blessing, involving but one finger, the middle one in fact, held alone and held high, to indicate the pride of the Blommervermogens. That one is my favorite.

Oh my.  I see some of the roast hens I’ve been dying for. I know these have been chosen with me in mind. The chef has prepared them just the way I like them, with the multi-colored feathers arranged like a luscious rainbow around the bird, for dipping purposes, presented with a small dish containing a piquant sauce for dipping. My mouth is already watering at the sight. I could command one of the servants to make a plate for me—all I need do is snap my fingers and say it and it will be done—but since I’m already standing here, and since I really don’t want to wait,  I think I’ll help myself, just this once, and….

Hel-lo! What the hell? Just as I reach for one of the delicate little birds, I find myself yanked unceremoniously away from the table, hand poised in mid-air.  I stumble after the interloper, one hand going automatically to my beret, which is in danger of falling from my head, the other to my skirt.   I think I’ve probably just given everyone in my immediate vicinity a quick peep at the royal jewels, as my skirt flips up for a second. Maybe two or three, even. I know, I can feel the sudden breeze upon my nether regions. There’s only me underneath, you know, in all my glory. Now I’m sure that the guests’ll be salivating for more than the food.
Damn, but Luci’s gotten strong. When did that happen? By the time I regain my balance, and manage to find some of my lost dignity, we’re already in the ballroom, and people are staring at us. What has she done to me? Is my hair out of place or what? Is my make-up gone awry? I’m torn between snapping at my sister or examining whatever damage she’s done to my appearance. I opt for the latter.

Swyddogh hastens to my side—apparently she took him by surprise as well—and I quickly take stock of my looks in the mirror he produces for my use.  I turn my head first one way, then the other, smoothing my hair back as I do so. At least my make-up isn’t smudged, as I’m not carrying my extra with me and I’d hate to return to my room to fix my face, but I will if I have to. Everything seems to be in place, luckily, and I smile at my reflection. I nod to Swyddogh and he returns the mirror to its place of concealment.

Now to find out the reason for this imposition.

“What was the meaning of that!” I expostulate, my stomach growling, lending its support to my righteous indignation. But I stop in mid-complaint as I take a good hard look at my sister. She’s wearing a long gold gown which flows all the way to the floor, and her red-gold hair is woven into delicate plaits which frame her heart-shaped face, and the pale rose hat she is wearing is incredibly cute, decorated with small blue stones which gleam as they catch the gaslight. My stomach does a back flip as I realize that I’m going to have to watch out for her, very carefully, lest she be stolen away from us. My little sister has truly grown up.

“Kay!” she whines, clutching at my arm, digging her nails into my wrist. “Stay with me, please! I don’t want to be courted. Not yet!”

“Very well,” I grumble, my dreams of food dissipating in view of the tears which threaten to mar my sister’s beauty. Some homecoming. I can’t even eat. But Luci needs me, so I can hardly complain, now can I?
At least not here and now.

“Just what is it you want me to do, Luci?” I sigh.

“Just stay with me and meet the suitors that are here to meet me. Hopefully there won’t be too many of them. You know men better than I do, brother. Look them over and help me determine which are worthy men and which are no better than Klytemnestrian saarbuckets!”

To say I am shocked by my sister’s language is an understatement, but before I get a chance to ask her where the doogle blazes she learned those words, Swyddogh is digging his elbow into my side, so I have to pause and glare at him instead.

“Your parents are beckoning, your royal highness,” he whispers discreetly, and I withdraw my anger quickly. This is one of the things that I have him around for, to keep me on my toes and to remind me of where I should be.

“Thanks, Swy.” I glance toward the thrones, where Father and Mother sit. Father does indeed have a finger crooked toward us.  “Come, Luci.” This time I’m leading her, as we hasten across the room.

And now we stand. And stand. And stand. While a parade of idiots present themselves in all their borrowed finery and ogle my sister. It’s all I can do to keep from punching each and every one in his stupid face. But I can say without hesitation that none of them are worthy of the honor of courting my beloved little sister.

It is closer to the time of the dance, now, I can feel it—the music is reverberating through my feet. We must at least find Luci a suitable partner. I have been aware for some time now that some of the locals have been included as guests for this occasion. Two of them are staring at us now, rather openly, from across the room.
There can only be one reason for that. I preen at the knowledge of my attractiveness. As they begin to move toward us, I know instinctively what their purpose is. Now the question remains, what will my answer be? Will I actually dance with one of the locals? Or shall I turn him down? I can’t help but smirk, as I debate my decision.
“Okay Reno, remember you are here to attract her. Keep your mind on her and I think everything will be fine,” Jaou whispers in my ear as we look over the throng of people from the balcony.

“I know why we are here, Jaou,” I snipe back at him. My scent must be drifting onto the crowd, heads are beginning to turn as I knew they would. After having spent the day basking in the light of the guardian there is no way I wouldn’t be attractive even to these animals. Yet dressed up in their finery, many of them are attractive—in their own way. I nod discreetly at a few people I work with in the castle as they realize who Jaou and I are. The office of Interspecies Cooperation may be a farce as far as most people on both sides are concerned, but at least we try to keep relations smooth and communications open.

“Let’s make our way towards the throne. The Princess is there and we can make her acquaintance and our respects to the Royal Family at the same time,” Jaou suggests. It’s a good idea and although I’m reluctant, we might as well get this over with right up front. I let Jaou lead me down the stairs and we venture towards the Royal family, who are greeting the line of their guests.

I hear the orchestra playing in the distance. Oh great, dancing. I’ll probably have to dance with her. It’s not that I can’t dance, I’ve been known to be rather light on my feet, but the only female I’ve ever danced with would be my mother. I suppose dancing with her won’t be much different than dancing with anyone else, as long as it isn’t a slow dance where I’m required to hold her close. Gods, what is my mother thinking. There’s no way I can be with a woman, the very idea repulses me.

It’s started of course, the murmuring and whispering of voices as Jaou and I make our way across the floor. The crowd parts before us like water before the prow of a boat. All eyes turn to us as we approach. Even guests waiting in line to pay their respects step back and allow us to proceed before them. Actually I wouldn’t have minded waiting at the back of the line for our turn, but my brother grabs my elbow and as the others step back, he propels me forward. I keep my eyes downcast. I don’t need to make eye contact with anyone other than the Royal family. I don’t want anyone to misinterpret my glance and think that the state I’m currently in is for them.

“Well, well. The little princeling is home and all dressed up. He sure makes a pretty picture, too bad he doesn’t have a brain behind all that plumage,” Jaou whispers for my ears only. At the foot of the dais, I take a deep breath and finally raise my eyes, locking them not on the Princess, but the Prince. Jaou wasn’t kidding, he is quite attractive and I can see that he’s completely aware of his beauty. Having chosen white, he stands out not only from the crowd but from every other guest in the hall. To my amazed eyes, none look more beautiful. Unfortunately I’m not for him. He—even though he is rather conceited—would’ve been far preferable to the young woman at his side.

She’s a beautiful young woman, to be sure. Her golden gown sets off her appearance quite regally, her long red tresses have been arranged beautifully. Were it not for her brother, and my predilections for men, she would be the belle of the ball.

“Isn’t she beautiful, brother?” Jaou whispers as we wait for the two men before us to speak their piece. My brother should have been mother’s choice for this pretty princess, as he does prefer females, unlike me. So why me, I can’t help but wonder again.

“I suppose so,” I whisper back, barely able to glance at her, after dragging my eyes away from the Princeling. Then it’s our turn. Jaou, being my second speaks for me. We bow in synch with one another and with all the grace our father has taught us.

“Greetings King Liefde and Queen Kaerlighed, from the court of the First Mother Fatinalalinalea Sameeleon. I am the first son, Jaouseptanetah Sameeleon and this is my brother and third son, Renophoatien Sameeleon. At your service.” Jaou formally greets them. “We are here to celebrate your son’s return and to request that my brother be given formal permission to pay court to your daughter.”

I hope you enjoyed this weeks Reality Check. Until next week... 
Wishing you Love and Butterflies, 
Sui Lynn~~

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Elements of Love 1 - Adel's Purr - Releases Today

Greetings Loved Ones,
Well today’s the day! The first book in my Elements of Love series, Adel’s Purr is available for purchase. It is a paranormal love story between Evan Halvard, a young stonemason and a gargoyle, Adel.

Of course nothing is that pure and simple, here is the promotional summary of the book.

Evan Halvard is a stone mason, like his father before him. In a world recovering from a war that swept humanity to the brink, Evan struggles to learn about and control a power he knows nothing about. He can create and awaken ‘living stone’, gargoyles. When he receives a message from his contacts that a large gargoyle is about to be destroyed by the Church, Evan rushes to save it.

Adel has been asleep for centuries; this century -- with its mechanical devices and human beings set on their own destruction -- holds no interest for him. Yet, through the haze of his hibernation, he hears a voice calling to him, needing him. When he awakens, he is restrained by those he is sworn to protect. Fighting does him no good, and he is about to close his eyes on a world that no longer wants him, when he hears that voice calling again. Calming, soothing, it draws him forth, softening his stone heart like no other ever has.   Between the evil that hunts Evan and the Church that wants Adel destroyed, will the two be able to find love, wrapped up in Adel's Purr?

I’ve been so excited about this release. Evan and Adel are one of my favorite pairs of lovers, that I’ve had the privilege of writing about. I know I talk about them as if they were true to life people, but to me sometimes characters actually take on a life of their own and Evan and Adel did that for me. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have enjoyed writing about them.

Here is an excerpt from the book:

Gargoyle Lore

As written by the scribes and entombed in the Church Archives:
1) Carved from a single piece of natural stone. Can not be made of stone composite, or molded. Their original form is carved. Their spirit is called to life by an Earth Elemental they call their Maker. They become living stone: stone by day and living, breathing flesh and blood by night.
May 14, 2215 - just before sunset...

The modern-day equivalent of a hermit, Evan Halvard lived by himself on a couple acres of forested land in the mountains, far enough away from civilization so people couldn't bother him. He liked to tell his friends he lived close enough to town to do business easily, yet far enough up in the mountains that people had to be determined in order to find him. The arrangement served him well, keeping most of the unwanted interruptions away and gave him a modicum of privacy.

Spring felt cool this year up in the mountains, but as Evan stood in his garden tilling the soil, nature spoke to him of green and growing things. Winter's last bite of the season had come and gone. The tender seeds he planted would flourish. Most people would find the soil cold and painful, but Evan loved the feeling of the earth beneath his feet and between his toes. He'd told his father many times how, if he stood barefoot in the soil the ground would speak to him, but no matter how many times Evan's father had humored him, Evan seemed to be the only one who heard the earth whispering.

Evan stood and rested an arm on his hoe, smiling to himself as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large leather hair tie. He pulled back his unruly dark brown dreadlocks and tied them out of the way at the back of his neck. He pulled off his T-shirt and wiped it across his face and the back of his neck, absorbing the sheen of sweat forming on his light mocha skin. Evan worked as a stonemason and was accustomed to physical labor--repairing walls, laying brick, and pretty much anything that dealt with rock. But standing in the last rays of the setting sun, bent over a hoe prepping the soil for seeds didn't count as work but was a labor of love.

Evan smiled as he thought of how his adoptive father, Peter Stein, would've scolded him for doing what he considered women's work. He'd been taken in by the Steins when he was very young, but they loved him as if he were their own. To his father, men were hunters and women were supposed to tend to the plants. Evan couldn't help his love of nature. He loved caring for green things almost as much as he loved his stonework. Spring, his favorite time of year, simply spoke of awakenings, beginnings, and plantings. Since he'd no intentions of ever marrying a woman--as he'd discovered long ago he was not attracted to females--he had to do his own planting, which he openly told all who asked. Truthfully, the green-things around him were connections to the earth and they gave him a sense of peace and security he felt from nothing else. The earth's awakening, as the frost of winter receded and things came back from that the death-like sleep, gave new life to Evan as well.

Evan watched the sun drop down below the tree covered horizon, and as the last rays of direct sunlight disappeared into dusk, he felt the familiar tingle at his throat as his closest friend awoke. He reached up and stroked the stone necklace, which put a smile on his face as the cool spring air washed over him. A tiny rumbling purr began against his collarbone.

"Evening, Cela." Evan felt the little dragon unwrap himself from around his neck, stretch, and coo merrily.

Evan stretched work stiffened muscles, his friends awakened, like Cela, and he could feel their approach as they made their way from their various daytime perches to venture out into the night. He always knew when there were gargoyles about, even during the daytime. He could easily distinguish between living stone and statues. He'd been fifteen and an apprentice to his father the first time it happened: he'd discovered Cela. Well, he hadn't really discovered Cela; Evan had awoken the dragon. He'd unknowingly called to the gargoyle's sleeping soul, bequeathed to the statue by the artist who'd sculpted the dragon. And so, Evan had given the statue life, awakening the gargoyle as living stone.

* * * *
Ten years before...

"Hey Dad, what's that?" Evan asked.

"What's what?" Peter replied, looking at his son, then following his gaze. "Oh, you mean the dragon statue. That's a gargoyle, a guardian, and a pretty small one at that. They used to adorn many structures. Our ancestors believed they'd guard our souls from the evil in the night. You don't see them much anymore. The hunters from the Abbey, under orders from the Bishop's Service and their deputies, smashed most of them. I guess it's so small, they must've overlooked that one." Peter looked at the little gargoyle.

"What a beautiful dragon."

"Yeah, and dangerous, just like their mythical counterparts. Just having statues like gargoyles on our property could bring the Inquisition to our door. They believe gargoyles depict mankind's violent nature and are proof of his inherent evil. They believe they represent evil, or in the worst cases, are personifications of the Devil."

"But Dad, how can anything so beautiful be evil?" Evan asked.

"Sorry, son, I never did understand their logic. I just know not to question the Church. Few survive the Inquisition, and those who do are never the same. Come on, let's get to work." Peter and Evan went back to working on the crumbling stonework walls, repairing the damage done by time and nature.



"What are gargoyles like?"

Peter smiled at his son. Evan was always inquisitive and a little thing like the Church disliking something was incentive for him to ask questions. "Well, let me see. My father used to tell tales of gargoyles, before the war. Before modernization, gargoyles were the nighttime protectors of the people. They kept people safe from evil."

"Really? Were they super strong and super fast?" Evan asked.

Peter chuckled. "Not that I remember him ever saying. They could fly, though. They could sleep for years in hibernation and then when called at night, would awaken and protect the people."

"Are they born?"

"No. Gargoyles are carved by artisans, like all statues. But there are special people in the world who have extraordinary powers. They are known as Elementals. Only a specific type of person can call the spirit to life and change a carved statue into living stone. Only Elementals can make the statue into a gargoyle."

"That's so cool! Do you know any Elementals?"

"Maybe... hand me the mortar." Peter held out his left hand so his son could pass him the bucket. "Get the supports ready."

"Okay. Can they be killed?"

"Can who be killed?" Peter asked, studying the rock wall before him as he plastered cracks in the mortar. Evan shored up the broken wall getting it ready for repair.


"They are immortal, but they can be killed. If the stone form is broken, then they can never awaken again. That's how the Church eliminated most of them, destroying them while they were vulnerable and unable to defend themselves. They can also be killed when they are flesh and blood, at night." Peter moved over to where Evan had finished bracing the wall and had begun to add new rocks, placing them and then mortaring them into position. "Good... good. Keep at it. I'm going around to work on the other side."

"So they don't run around as hard rock, but they move at night?"

"Not from what your grandfather said. They turn to regular flesh and blood at night. They hunt and eat, just like any other beast, although he did say that some of the older ones could talk. But I've never seen any larger than the little dragon you found earlier."

Peter stood and stretched. As father and son completed their work, the sun set over the horizon, leaving everything bathed in the half-shadow world of twilight.

"Come on, Evan. Let's get home before it gets too dark." Peter patted his son on the shoulder and grinned. "Your mom will have dinner ready and waiting for us."

"Okay, sounds good." Evan replied, a little distracted. "Dad, can I go check out the dragon statue? It'd be a real shame if something so small and fragile were damaged." Evan frowned, thinking in horror of someone intentionally smashing the little statue.

"Sure, go on. No one's around and I don't think anyone here'll report you for being interested in a gargoyle. Just keep the thing to yourself. I don't want to know what you do with it. I'm going to the truck. I know nothing." Peter smiled warmly at his son.

"Thanks, Dad." Evan took off at a run to find the little gargoyle statue before his father changed his mind. He found the mausoleum easily; there was only the one crypt in the small cemetery. He looked up to where the gargoyle should've been perched, but the spot was now empty. No dragon roosting over the door.

"I could've sworn--" Evan mumbled to himself, looking around to see if he'd somehow gotten the location wrong. No, the gargoyle had to be here. Evan walked around the perimeter of the crypt, looking for the little statue.

What could've happened to it? Evan thought. He and his dad were the only ones in the cemetery. Then he caught sight of a reddish glimmer, high up in a nearby tree. Evan frowned and looked a bit closer. The glimmer blinked and the red glow flashed.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you. Come on, you can't stay here, you're not safe." Evan spoke softly, trying to coax the little creature from the tree. "Come on, little one, dad's waiting for us." Evan extended his hands to the small gargoyle. "My name's Evan Halvard. Dad says my name means rock defender, in the old language. Come on now, I won't hurt you." Evan crooned and babbled, remembering being told animals didn't understand what you said but your tone of voice could either soothe or incite them. He'd no idea if the same applied to creatures of living stone.
Evan heard a couple of cheeps and whistles, which sounded vaguely bird-like, and the little gargoyle appeared, hanging on the central bark of the tree.

"There you are! Aren't you cute? Come on down. We have to go home. You can't stay here. There's no one to protect you."

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this piece of Adel’s Purr.
Wishing you Love and Butterflies,
Sui Lynn~~