Cover Reveal: "Bad Moon Rising" (m/m zombie apocalypse)

Check out the amazing new cover art for "Bad Moon Rising!"

Coming Soon From Less Than Three Press! 

ReRelease: "Alpha's Redemption" (m/m alien)

"Alpha's Redemption" is up for pre-order at Less Than Three Press!

CONTENT WARNING: CHILD DEATH

Blurb

Tondreau spent the last four years helping raise Cadajen's terminally ill daughter, Linea. Though not mates, they've carved out a happy life with each other. That life comes crashing down when Linea's health takes a turn for the worst, and they must face the hardest decision of their lives—a decision which threatens to tear them apart, if Tondreau can't face his own fears and be the Alpha that Cadajen needs.

Rerelease: "Devoted Alpha" (m/m alien/human infantilism)

"Devoted Alpha" is up for pre-order at Less Than Three Press! 

CONTENT WARNING: INFANTILISM KINK

Blurb

Sokel has long known Sebastion harbors certain hidden fantasies and desires, but he's not the kind of Alpha to demand anything of his omega. But when a whispered word slips out one night, Sokel sets out to help his mate understand his needs don't make him deviant. In wanting to help however, Sokel might just go a step too far.

Excerpt

“Daddy…"

The first time it happened, so much shame followed the whispered word, it forced a full-body blush from Sebastian, making his beautiful form faintly red from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. He pulled away, rolled over, and refused Sokel’s attempts to coax him back into lovemaking. He refused, in fact, any intimacy between them at all for a week. And then came a nasty mission and a brush with death, and Sebastian fairly attacked him when they returned to the North Star.

*~*~*

“Daddy!"

The second time it happened, they were living on Presidia, and the word forced its way from that elegant throat, through lips pressed thin and tight. Sokel tensed for a fraction of a second and then carried on, determined not to encourage his mate’s palpable self-consciousness. He caught a fleeting glimpse of something through their link—the hazy impression of Sebastian’s mouth suckling on a baby bottle. He’d always sensed certain hidden desires through their link. Were he a different sort of Alpha, he would’ve simply forced the issue and taken the knowledge from his mate’s mind. After all, Sebastian was Human, and as such, couldn’t actively shield his thoughts. If Sokel wanted in, he’d get in. But Sebastian’s lack of ability was the very reason Sokel refused to pry. The desires lived in black boxes in Sebastian’s mindscape, and though Sokel asked once, Sebastian wasn’t ready to let him see. He thought, though, he might have gotten a glimpse with that one breathlessly choked out word.

Daddy.

The next day, he rearranged his schedule of lectures so he had a break in the afternoon. He needed a few minutes to himself for research. A few minutes turned into ten, which turned into twenty, which hurled itself toward an hour. It took a few attempts to narrow and refine his search parameters, but once he did, he began to understand.

The photos were explicit, and there were dozens, but he got the gist: two Presidian men lay on a bed together, one feeding the other from a baby bottle. Another picture showed a Human male stroking his cock as he sat on a woman’s lap, sucking from her breast.

A little more investigation and he determined Sebastian had what Humans called an infantilism fetish or age play kink. It made sense, he supposed. Sebastian’s parents both died when he was four. Lacking any other family, he ended up at an orphanage. Though located on Earth, the place was owned and operated by the Service, which meant a mostly non-Human staff. There were very few other Human children, and Sebastian once told Sokel he’d had no real friends until he’d enrolled in the Academy in his teens and met Korden and Rennett.

Sokel sat back in his chair and looked over the images again. He could work with this. He went to his vid screen and called Korden, arranged for his friends to be out of the house for a couple hours tonight. He let his aide know he’d be out for a while and made a trip to a small baby shop in the market to purchase a bright blue baby bottle. He stowed it in his bag and returned to work.

The rest of his day passed in relative peace, and when it was over, he walked to Sebastian’s classroom, leaning on the doorjamb and waiting while his mate discussed something with a student. The student shuffled past Sokel, smiling and nodding a hello/goodbye, and Sokel nodded back. She was a pretty little Human, all fresh-faced, rosy cheeks, and soft, round hips.

Sokel made his way over to Sebastian’s desk and slid his arms around his mate from behind, resting his chin on Sebastian’s shoulder. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Sebastian leaned back, nuzzling his nose into the side of Sokel’s neck. “Is it a sexy surprise?”

“I can’t say.”

“Ya not even gonna gimmie a hint?”

“No.” Sokel chuckled when Sebastian stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “You’ll see when we get home.” He headed to the door, pulling Sebastian along with him.

“Wait! Gotta grab some papers to grade tonight.”

Sokel shook his head and tugged on Sebastian’s hand. “Not tonight. I have other ideas.”

“So it is a sexy surprise!”

“You are incorrigible.”

Though they normally walked the two miles from the Academy to their home in the Ka’let Provence, today Sokel hailed a podcar.

“Somebody’s eager.” Sebastian snickered.

Instead of just over a half hour, the trip took a little under four minutes with traffic.

Sokel led him inside. “Why don’t you change and go relax on the bed? I’ll bring your surprise to you.”

Rainbow Advent Calendar: "The Only Star" (NSFW)

Rainbow Advent Calendar Facebook Group

::waves:: Hi y'all! For those of you who don't know me, my name is DC Juris. I've been a published author of GLBTQ romance since 2009. You can find me on Facebook. 

For my part in the Rainbow Advent Calendar, I have a little offering featuring my two vampire characters, Serge and Bryan. Unfortunately, their first story, "Serge's Gift," is no longer available, but you don't really need to know anything other than Serge is an ancient vampire who turned his human friend Bryan, and they're together. This story is a snapshot of their first Christmas together. 

To sweeten the holiday pot, I've got an offer for you. Throughout the month of December, do a random act of kindness for someone. It can be anything - a small gesture, a large gesture, either one. Then leave a comment on this post, including your e-mail, and I'll send you a free copy of "Serge's Gift." 

"The Only Star"

I wasn't expecting this. When you're mated to a vampire, things like Christmas seem a little trivial. But here Serge stands, in the living room of our apartment, grinning from ear to ear in front of a fully decorated, must-be-over-seven-feet-tall-and-three-around twinkling tree. Beneath the tree is a veritable mound of presents of all shapes and sizes, wrapped in bright colored paper, complete with large gold bows on top of each one, all bearing tags with my name.

I cross the room to him, unable to suppress my own grin. "What's all this?"

"It's Christmas." He says it so simply, so dryly, belying to jovial look on his face. "Did you think I would let you miss Christmas?"

I shrug. Christmas is a thing I don't need anymore, I figure. A thing of my human past, not my vampire future.

Serge arches an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in that way of his. "So now you are a bloodsucker, tradition means nothing?" His eyebrows knit together, and I get the impression he's seriously upset that I haven't reacted the way he wanted me to.

And now I remember what he's told me of his past, his human family, and the vampire ones that followed, all of them connected to some historical event or place, all of them sticklers for rules and traditions. "Of course not." I shake my head. "Tradition is always important."

That eyebrow arches higher though, and he stares down his nose at me for a moment. "Hmm." Is all he says, and I wonder if I've just made a huge mistake.

Serge shrugs. "In any event." He looks back to the tree. "It has been a long time since I have had a Christmas tree. A very long time, indeed," he whispers.

Now I get it. The tree isn't so much for me, but him, yet Serge will never admit such. He's an old vampire—a powerful one—filthy rich; able to buy anything he'd ever want. What need does he have of human nonsense like Christmas trees and presents? Better to hide that desire behind a gesture meant supposedly for me.

He stands there mutely, gazing at the tree, clenching and unclenching his hands, like he's trying to keep himself from reaching out and touching it. I look closer at the tree. Most of these ornaments look very old; some of them must be as old as…Oh. I really, really get it now.

I move toward the tree. There are several stars, which appear to have been fashioned out of twigs. A child's project, perhaps? I imagine a smaller version of Serge winding twine around the wood and beaming with pride at his creation. Near the top of the tree hangs a ceramic horse, its chipped and faded paint telling its age. I reach out and run my finger over a delicate glass "old world" Santa. I hear Serge's sharp intake of breath as my flesh makes contact with the glass. He steps closer and reaches out just a little, almost nervously. "I'll be careful," I assure him.

"Of course you will. I know that." Serge drops his hand with a self-depreciating snort.

"Were these yours, as a child?"

He swallows hard and nods. "Most belonged to my mother, and hers before her."

I point to one of the stars. "And who made these?"

"I did. I was seven." He ducks his head, and I swear if a vampire could blush, Serge would be beet red at the moment.

"They're very nice."

He shrugs. "They are only stars. Nothing more."

"They're a lot more. Aren't they?" I step close to him and lay my hands on his hips. There's an unspoken rule between us—Serge makes the first move, Serge controls our intimacy—and he bristles a little at the fact I've taken such initiative. But he doesn't move away, doesn't push my hands aside. He leans in and teases my lips with his.

"They are only stars." Serge straightens and raises a hand to touch my hair reverently. "From a life that no longer exists."

"I'd like to hear about it." I lean into him, press my forehead to his chin.

The rumble of Serge's chuckle resonates deep in his chest. "You'd be bored out of your mind, I'm afraid."

"Nothing about you is boring, my love." I wrap my arms around his neck and smile sweetly. "Please?"

He glances past me to the tree and heaves a sigh. "I suppose I brought this on myself, didn't I?" The question seems snide but there's a light in his eyes—a glimmer of excitement despite his words. He wants me to ask, he wants to tell me.

I glance at the enormous tree. "Well, you are the one who cut down an ancient redwood and dragged it into our house."

"It's not a redwood," he corrects dryly. "It's a balsam fir. Abies balsamea, to be technical."

I shiver against him. "I love it when you speak Latin."

He laughs in earnest. "You love it when I speak anything." Serge steps back and spins me around toward the blood bar in the corner. "If you intend me to speak of such things, I will need sustenance."

I walk over to the bar, open the chiller and pull out the first bottle my hand finds. I uncork it, and start to pour the thick, scarlet liquid into two glasses. Serge appears behind me—I'm still not used to that speedy movement thing—and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Sie sind der einzige Stern, den ich jetzt benötige," he whispers against my ear, then slides from me and goes to the other side of the room. He flounces down on the couch, staring at the Christmas tree.

"That's not Latin," I murmur. German, if I recall my high school studies correctly.

"No." Serge gives no other answer.

I join him on the couch and he reaches for his glass but I pull it back and raise an eyebrow. "What'd you say?"

He surges forward, grabbing both the glasses from me before I can react. In the next moment he straddles me, has my wrists pinned above my head in one of his hands. Serge kisses me thoroughly, curling my toes with the passion of it.

"I said you are the only star I need now."

The wave of emotion that passes between us is something electric. I've always been attracted to Serge; have loved him for a while. But this… I've never felt the vampire bond between us quite so strongly. Suddenly a history lesson is at the absolute bottom of my wish list. I tilt my hips up, press against him. Offering. Demanding.

He takes the invitation, nips at my bottom lip with his teeth as he slides a hand down between us. "It's true, you know."

"What's that?" I gasp as his fingers wrap around my cock and begin to slowly stroke up and down.

"That you are a star. You shine brightly, my love. Even now, cursed as you are." Serge licks a stripe up my neck.

"Not…cursed…" I thrust up into his hand. His flesh is cool, like mine, but when he touches me like this, I'd swear I'm in the middle of an inferno. He tightens his grip, precum slicking the way.

"Oh, but you are cursed. And so am I." He nibbles at my throat, just over my jugular, draws a razor sharp fang along my skin.

The sensation goes all the way to my cock. I don't care if I'm cursed if it means being here with him like this, with the scent of him, the feel of him, the weight of him holding me down. I want him in every way possible. Forever. I buck up against him, wrap my hand around the back of his neck. "Drink."

He snarls and sinks his fangs in instantly. He's gentle, oh, so gentle, sucking delicately, slowly, in time with the movement of his hand on my cock. It's too much. It's not enough.

I pull him down against me hard, wrap my legs around him and hook my ankles. I can feel the blood leaving me, flowing past his lips in a steady stream—it's like a thousand little orgasms. It leaves me dizzy and breathless, desperate for more. The bond between us sings and expands, ricocheting Serge's own pleasure back to me.

He raises his head, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and captures my lips in a demanding, deep kiss. I surrender to it, to the plundering of his tongue, to taste of myself, to the knowledge that this act between us is perfect and precious.

I'm close, so close. I rut up into his hand and cling to him, lost in a sea of sensation. It's still too much. It's still not enough. I fear it will go on for eternity. I fear it will end too soon. My body tenses, reaching, reaching. I want to demand my release. I want to beg him for it. But I can't form words. All I can do is feel and trust that he knows the way.

Orgasm hits in a staggering moment of intensity, as always. When we share blood, we share everything. Serge moans into my mouth as my release spills over his hand. His body goes rigid and I'm hit with another wave of pleasure. I ride it out, tumbling and falling free into the abyss of our bond.

It's minutes or an hours before I come back to myself. Serge hasn't moved but to press his forehead against my shoulder. I lift a hand an thread my fingers through his hair. "You shine brightly too, you know," I whisper.

He chuckles and shifts to look down at me. "I am but a flicker of yellow against the brilliant white of your backdrop."

It's not true. I want to argue with him, tell him he's wrong. But something in his tone stops me. I kiss his lips and wrap my arms around his neck. "Will you tell me of your Christmases?"

"Perhaps later. I have other plans for the evening."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Do tell?"

He untangles us and stands, holds his hand out to me. "I plan to wine you and dine you tonight, such as I can."

"And then?" Because with Serge, there is always an and then.

"And then, my star, I plan to bring you home and make love to you on the rooftop, under the stars. If you are amenable, of course."

"I suppose I could be persuaded."

He chuckles and heads for the bedroom to change. I sit for a moment, simply staring at the tree. I may never know about the Christmases that came before, but I believe I can make the Christmases to come ones he hopes never to forget.  

Copyright © 2017 DC Juris

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Cover Reveal: "Alpha's Redemption"

Well, ain't that pretty!

Blurb:

Tondreau has spent the last four years helping raise Cadajen's terminally ill daughter, Linea. Though not mates, they've carved out a happy life with each other. It all comes crashing down when Linea's health takes a turn for the worst. Together, they must face the hardest decision of their lives. Will it tear them apart? And can Tondreau put aside his fears and be the Alpha Cadajen needs him to be?

Coming Soon from Torquere Press!

 

Cover Reveal!!! Bad Moon Rising (the re-release)

Whatcha think, y'all?

Cranberries and Spice Blog Hop

Please be aware: I write GLBTQ romance. This blog posting contains an excerpt from an m/m/m romance - that's male/male/male. As in male/male/male sex. As in a threesome. 

If that ain't your cuppa, please move along

 and make room for the next person. 

I don't have any Thanksgiving-themed stories, but I do have a hot little Christmas tale. So... I'mma be all rebellious and junk and share an excerpt from that one. It's called "Perfect Christmas." Like most things in my life, this snippet is Rated R!!

Leave a comment below and you'll be entered to win a free pdf copy. :-) 

Enjoy!!

Blurb: Depressed and lonely, Evan has nothing to look forward to on Christmas but his TV dinner and store-bought cookies, while his lover, Drake, spends the holiday traveling for business. But a special delivery changes everything, and Evan finds himself in the middle of a perfect Christmas. Worn out from his stocking stuffer, Evan's not sure how he's going to handle his present, but when Drake reveals that Evan's gift is a threesome with none other than their hunky friend Mike, Evan summons the energy!

Excerpt:

Drake straightened, stepped back, and stretched. He flashed Evan a dazzling smile. “Now we can head to the bedroom.”

“I was starting to like the bathroom,” Evan admitted.

“Well, if you want to open your present, you need to go to the bedroom.”

Curiosity piqued, Evan slid down off the sink. Drake took his hand and led him to the adjoining bedroom. In the middle of their big, black lacquer, four-poster bed, naked except for a pair of black leather underwear with a silver zipper, was their friend Mike. The soft glow of candles surrounded them but no heat radiated from them; Evan recognized them as the flameless battery operated ones he’d bought online last year but had never used.

“How?” Evan managed to whisper, just before his jaw dropped open.

“I called him on the way here and arranged it,” Drake explained, his tone full of pride.

“I snuck in the backdoor after Drake got home.” Mike grinned sheepishly. “No pun intended.”

“Remember when you said you wondered what he was like in bed?” Drake asked, pressing his lips to Evan’s ear.

Evan nodded, mouth too dry to talk. Not that he didn’t find Drake’s boyish good looks and curly blond hair attractive, and not that he didn’t feel content and fulfilled with their relationship, or their sex life—he did. But there was something about Mike—an animal magnetism in those large, dark eyes—that had always tempted Evan. Mike was the tallest man Evan knew, towering well over six feet, with a hunky build and chestnut skin that bespoke of exotic travels, action and adventure, and completely belied his ordinary, down home life as bartender at the local gay club. Evan would never have acted on his fantasy, of course, but with Drake giving permission and Mike willing, how could he say no?

“Aren’t you going to unwrap your package?” Mike wiggled his hips, flickering light glinting off the metal zipper.

Drake moved to stand behind Evan, pressing their bodies together, the proof of his excitement obvious as the long, hard ridge of his cock nudged Evan’s ass. “Go on,” he encouraged.

Evan took several slow, measured steps forward, reawakening cock swinging between his legs.

“He looks good enough to eat, doesn’t he, Mike?” Drake asked.

Mike nodded. “I’m eager for a taste.”

Evan shivered and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching a trembling hand for the zipper. His fingers fumbled, bumping Mike’s cock through the leather and Mike let out a long, low moan that went straight to Evan’s cock.

An InLinkz Link-up

The Power of Love Blog Hop

For my part in the hop, I'm giving you a snippet of my m/m romance set in the zombie apocalypse, "Bad Moon Rising." (Don't worry - nobody gets sexy with a zombie - it's not *that* kind of zombie romance!)

One lucky reader will win a free pdf copy - just leave a comment below, including your e-mail, to be entered. Good luck!!!

Blurb:

Bryce never expected to find himself smack in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and he certainly never expected to meet the man of his dreams along the way. But there's more than zombies in the way of his happily ever after. Richard comes with baggage, in the form of his on again, off again bipolar lover Cole, who is off his meds and descending into his own mental hell at an alarming rate. Will the three men be able to work out their romantic feelings? Oh yeah...and then there's that little issue of the zombies...
Excerpt:

Maybe I could try to talk some sense into Richard. Make him see Cole’s point of view. “Richard—”

He held up a hand. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Just c’mon and let’s shower.”

I followed him reluctantly. Even the luxurious draw of hot water after so long couldn’t make me feel any better.

Richard turned on the shower water and fumbled with his clothing. I stood in the corner, suddenly unsure what to do. Should I wait for him to get in and then undress? Did he expect me to undress now? What would he think of my body, when he saw it? I wasn’t fit like him—my love handles were more like love steering wheels. Would he even notice me?

He glanced at me. “You need help?”

“Huh?”

“With your clothes? Are they stuck to your wounds or anything?”

“Um...” I couldn’t think. Richard stood before me, naked and beautiful. His big, burly chest, covered with a thick mat of dark hair that made me want to run my fingers through it, his little paunch of a belly that made me want to make raspberries on it, his powerful trunk-like thighs that made me want to lay down between them and lick them, his thick, stubby cock that made me want to fall to my knees and wrap my lips around it.

“Bryce?”

“I...um...” What had he asked me? If I needed help? Jesus Christ, no. Help meant that delicious body of his being close to mine, and I didn’t think I could handle that at the moment. “No. No, I’m... you’re... I can do it.”

I felt like a child learning to tie his shoes, shouting I can do it and holding up his foot to show off his success as I unzipped my jeans and pushed them past my hips. I peeled my shirt off over my head and stood there with my arms in front of my body like an idiot.

“You trying to kill two birds with one stone?”

“Am I...what?”

Richard laughed and pointed at my boxers. “You going to wash those in the shower too?”

“Oh. Yeah. No.” But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. One, Richard would finally see me fully naked, and I was nowhere near as sublime as he. And two, the raging erection between my legs was a bit of a nightmare.

Richard walked over, tipped my face up to his, and grinned at me. “I can see your boner through your underwear, you know. You’re not hiding anything.”

I gazed up into his face—bright eyes, days’ worth of stubble, and that sweet, pouty bottom lip. Fuck my life.

He knelt down in front of me and tugged my boxers down. “Step out,” he instructed, the heat of his breath grazing my cock. He laid his hands on my hips to steady me as I stepped out of my boxers.

“There. Much better.” Richard ran his hands up my sides as he stood. “Shall we?” He stepped into the shower and reached a hand out for me. “Careful,” he warned as I stepped in. “It’s a little slippery.”

I gasped as the water hit my back. I couldn’t recall anything so luxurious in my whole life. I’d never travelled or spent any time at any fancy hotels or anything like that, but I had to believe they didn’t have anything on Doctor Austin’s shower.

“He thinks I want you.”

Richard’s voice brought me back to reality and I opened my eyes to look at him. He stood there casually, not close enough to make contact, but not so far away as to insinuate contact would be unwelcome. I gestured to our bodies and the shower. “How is this supposed to show him he’s wrong?”

“Who says he’s wrong?” He arched an eyebrow and held out a bar of soap.

The bluntness of the question startled me, and I just stood there staring at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed for a few sec- onds. I reached for the soap, palm open, so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him any more than was necessary. “You want me?”

Richard shrugged. “Of course I do. You’re handsome. You’re gay. I’m gay. We’re in a heinous situation. Emotions are high. Stress is high. I’m not getting it anywhere else. But wanting you and doing anything about it are two different things, and Cole ought to know that by now.”

“True.” And I supposed that, after being reduced to a situational convenience, I was just as happy he wasn’t doing anything about it after all.

We finished the shower, me trying hard to ignore Richard’s nakedness. Richard seemed so enthralled in the idea of hot water I didn’t think he even noticed me. He left the shower first while I was still busy picking dirt and dried blood off my legs and arms, and trying not to twist my ankle again in the slippery, soapy water. By the time I’d finished, toweled off and changed into a pair of pajamas I’d found, he was already ensconced in the living room couch, polishing off a glass of wine.

Richard poured another glass of wine and downed it in four gulps. He sniffed me as I walked by. “You smell good.”

“So do you.” I sat down next to him. “It’s the soap.”

“You look good, too.”

“Showers will do that. You’re half-drunk already.”

He turned and ran his fingers along my cheek, tipped my chin up and leaned in, his mouth just a wisp of air away from mine. “Do you care?”

I didn’t. God help me, I didn’t. “Cole might.”

He pulled his hand away, chuckled, and poured out more wine. “You know, it’s not polite to stare at a man when he’s trying to drink alone.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want to be alone?”

“Want?” Richard shook his head slowly and took another gulp of wine. “No.” He looked at me, and the sadness in his eyes made my heart hammer. “But it doesn’t matter what I want.” He drank more wine, pointed to the door. “You should find something else to do. Before it doesn’t matter what you want, either.”

He looked me up and down and licked his lips, and I took the words for the warning they were. Drunk Richard was apparently not someone I wanted to trifle with. I couldn’t help but tempt fate, though. “If all I am is a matter of convenience, then what difference does it make to you what I want?”

“Who said that’s all you were?”

“You did. In the shower.”

Richard laughed and tossed back another few gulps. “I like you, Bryce. I don’t love you. I don’t know you enough to love you. But I know you enough to like you.” He leaned forward again, brushed his lips against mine and it took all my will power not to wrap my arms around his neck and turn that brush into a real kiss.

“And I know you enough to want you.” He pulled back. “And I do care what you want. That—” he belched and wiped his mouth “—that should be obvious.” He pointed to the door. “Door’s still there.”

I stood and walked out into the kitchen, found Cole seated at the bar.

NEW RELEASE: "On God's Honor"

Blurb:

Ekenezer has no idea why Nathan Bradley is so important, or why God has sent him to guard the hapless klutz. But one look at Nathan, and Ekenezer soon finds that he has more than protective feelings for his ward. What’s an angel to do, though, when having the one person he’s ever wanted means giving up his wings for eternity?

Excerpt:

Still grieving the loss of his luscious locks, Ekenezer scratched at the back of his neck as he boarded the elevator. No more missions. He'd taken those words as a promise—a vow—when Gabriel had said them last year. And now…

"Hold the elevator!" Nathan Bradley came running toward him, one arm outstretched, the other clutching a pile of papers and folders. "Wait!"

Ekenezer stuck his foot in the door in time to keep it from closing.

"Thanks very much." He made a half attempt at straightening his bundle and gave up with a sigh.

Ekenezer bit his tongue to keep from grinning. "You're Nathan Bradley, aren't you?"

Nathan glanced at him, eyes wide. "I am."

"Barry Scott." Ekenezer held out his hand.

"Barry Scott." Nathan frowned. "Where have I heard your name before?"

"I'm the new vice president of accounting."

Nathan's face turned scarlet. "Of course! Pleased to meet you, Mr. Scott," he said, shaking Ekenezer's hand with enough enthusiasm to send his papers and folders teetering.

"Call me Barry. Mr. Scott's my father." Old joke. Lame joke. Nevertheless, Ekenezer couldn't think of anything else to say. Nathan was beautiful. Those average features that had stared blandly at him from the photo were now alive and animated, glowing with vigor and sexuality. Sexuality? Ekenezer shook himself. Not like him to think such unholy thoughts. Fortunately, he was distracted from them as Nathan's entire pile of folders tumbled to the floor.

"Goddamn it!" Nathan cursed.

Ekenezer winced. He had never been able to get used to the human habit of cursing. "Here, let me help you with those." He bent down to retrieve half of the stack.

"What a way to make an impression on the new boss, eh? Show up running late and dump a pile of crap on his feet."

"I've had worse on my feet, I assure you."

Nathan glanced up at him, no doubt wondering what a vice president could have had on his feet that had been all that bad.

Ekenezer chuckled to himself, remembering what some of those things had been. There had been the time in Brussels when that girl had vomited on him. There had been the time in Nevada when he had trudged through a cow pasture—and more than a little manure—to rescue the farmer's son. There had been the time… He shuddered violently and snatched his hand back from the unexpected glide of Nathan's skin against his own.

"Sorry. Wasn't trying to rip your hand off or anything."

"My fault. I was daydreaming." Ekenezer stood and smoothed his hands over his jacket, tried not to look at Nathan. You're an angel, he admonished himself, a representative of God on Earth! Act like it!

The elevator came to a blessed stop, and the doors slid open not a moment too soon for Ekenezer's frazzled nerves. He shuffled out the door and watched as Nathan went his own way down the opposite hall. Ekenezer's gaze swept up and down Nathan, taking in his small shoulders and falling to linger on his… Ekenezer blushed and turned away, scandalized by his own actions. He had certainly not been looking at a human's rear end, certainly not Nathan Bradley's. A man's!

Certainly not when his wings were the price to be paid.