Fans, family, all are loved. All can get f*!ked if they stand between a demon and his mate.

I need discipline. I’m working on it though. Anyway, here’s another unedited snippet that picks up where my last blog leaves off. Let me know what you think! I’m still on track to publish this book this month. Thanks for waiting! And shout out to people like “Little Fears” who consistently like my stuff. I appreciate you.

XOXO,

SS

Foresight was common among his caste of demons, especially when it came time to secure one’s mate. Some had more, others just enough to provide better than average intuition on which direction to go in life. Now his was telling him to get on a plane. That on the other end of a large stretch of blue water he’d find the female haunting his mind and gently tormenting his body.

Having run and tramped and frolicked for hours with his brothers, he should have slept soundly. But that night he woke the house crying out. He wasn’t that loud, but Garhine demons have extra keen hearing. His brothers rushed into his room, his mum and dad on their heels, all of them concerned.

“What’s going on then?” Marshall asked.

He felt himself calm as they settled around him, his brothers on either side, his mom in front, his dad at his back.

“I keep dreaming of a woman. I don’t know her. But tonight I saw her for the first time. She’s dark, darker than me, I mean, with short black hair. She’s tall, with long slender legs. She was carrying a gun.”

“Go on,” said Mitch, interested.

“Only thing, I wasn’t me. I mean, I was, but I was a cub. Tiny. I was in my right skin. I crawled into her lap, wrapped my tail around her arm. She was stroking my back and the tips of my ears.” Those slightly pointed ears twitched now.

“Yeah?” Marshall again. His way of saying get to the good part.

“She kissed me and said, ‘such a pretty pink,’ and I puffed out my little chest, snuggled down on her lap and went to sleep.”

His brothers’ soft chuckles couldn’t compete with his mother’s loud happy laughter.

“What?” he asked, a hand rubbing absently over his heart.

“My son, I think you’ve found your mate,” Hebe informed him.

Well, he thought, relieved. From her accent, she was American.

 

Chapter two 

He left his family feeling physically and emotionally better, but knowing his mate was out there somewhere, he felt even more itchy. Everything in him urged him to run and find her immediately.

Of course, not even he could run across an ocean, and waiting for the plane to land was a trial. It took every scrap of patience he had to deal with autograph seekers in the airport. The second time it happened, he lied, telling them, no, he wasn’t Miles Standish. “Sorry, mate. I get that all the time. I’m not him, I’m afraid.”

He didn’t even feel guilty, and he usually liked talking to his fans. He didn’t spare these another thought, however. His only goal was to find his mate. But first, he had to find Tommy Daniels, Rich’s friend.

That was easy. She was right where Rich said she’d be – at work. She had the keys to his rental, and told him to go home, get settled, take a nap, and get ready to attend the party she was throwing that night.

“I’ll introduce you to the crew, get you plugged in while you’re here in town.”

His invisible tail twitched. A party. The chances weren’t great, but his mate might be there.

“Thanks, love. Can’t wait.”

That was true and a half. He unpacked, went to buy groceries, made a meal, ate it, went for a seven mile run and came back to his temporary home only marginally less antsy than when he left.

He sighed irritably. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? It was hours too early to dress for the party. He eyed his reflection in a nearby mirror. His hair was a bit long. He lifted a hank off his neck. A haircut. He wanted to look presentable when he met his mate.

He called Tommy for a barber recommendation. She set him up with a stylist, and he walked the two miles to the shop. It was a good idea. The female who tended him ran her fingers through his thick blonde hair repeatedly, hmmming her appreciation for its soft thickness and color. Like any demon/man, he enjoyed being stroked.

The shampoo girl was another marvel. He couldn’t help the soft rumble that came from his chest as she gently scratched his scalp and rubbed all over his head as she washed and dried his hair.

“Like that?” she smiled, pressing her fingers into the tops of his shoulders.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly, blinking at her with large, sleepy cerulean eyes.