As a writer of m/m paranormal, I’m dead lucky. I’ve always lived in the
southern counties of England, which overload me with inspiration. Just fifteen minutes drive to the west, I can
be in the New Forest. Not only is the forest rich in legends of fair folk and
ghosts. Real medieval history twines with the mystical in bloody tales of murdered
kings and princes, on whom the poor folk of the forest—or the forest
itself?—have repeatedly sought revenge for strict hunting laws. The New Forest
inspired my Greenwood series, but
when seeking a contrasting setting for my new seasonal novella, Simon, Sex, and the Solstice Stone, I
didn’t have to look far.
Less than an hour’s drive to the north of me is Wiltshire, home to
Stonehenge and Avebury, just two of the many stone circles that haunt the misty
landscapes of the south of England. I’ve
been visiting Stonehenge and Avebury for as long as I can remember. Around the age of five, I was creeped out by
the tale of a medieval barber-surgeon whose grisly remains were found crushed
beneath one of the Avebury stones (though recent investigations suggest he
might have been placed there after his death—and he might not have been a
barber, despite the scissors he carried and which gave him his name!) Stone
circles have always stirred the imagination, and the mystical beliefs that
surround them are as old as they are, often lost in the fog of time. One of the earliest known theories about
Stonehenge, written down by Goeffrey of Monmouth around 1136, claims that
Merlin transported the circle wholesale from Ireland on the request of the King
of the Britons (I’m not up-to-date with the current Merlin TV series, but I
don’t think they’ve shown him do this yet!)
Given their obscure pre-Christian origins, it is unsurprising many stone
circle myths involve “immoral” activities, such as dancing, merrymaking, and
even al fresco sex (always a brave activity given the grim English
weather.) Indeed, many a medieval
morality tale implied that the stones themselves were the unfortunate
revellers. The Stanton Drew circle in
Somerset is known locally as “The Wedding,” and is said to be an unfortunate
happy couple and their guests. Having partied hard through Saturday night into
the Sabbath, the devil turned up disguised as a fiddler and wrought his eternal
punishment. A fallen stone is even said
to represent a tumbling, tipsy churchman.
To this late day, the true powers and meanings of places like Stonehenge
continue to fascinate millions, and provide an important focus for
practitioners of earth spirituality.
Given my lifelong interest, it’s unsurprising the stone circles found
their way into my books. Simon, Sex, and
the Solstice Stone is set between Thanksgiving and Christmas—with a major
pit stop at the winter solstice where an important ritual is to performed at a
circle, known simply as The Stones. And
yeah, despite the English weather, my MCs might just be brave or mad enough to
attempt a little al fresco sex.
Simon, Sex, and the Solstice Stone (published by
Loose Id, m/m paranormal/time travel, 45k).
Blurb: Simon’s holiday season is looking grim. His
boyfriend’s dumped him, and his self-esteem is rock bottom. Stuck in the UK
where nobody celebrates Thanksgiving, the shy, geeky student drowns his sorrows
at an ancient stone circle. When a gorgeous stranger, Aubrey, shows up and
attempts to seduce him, Simon is flattered but also freaked—especially when
Aubrey claims to be from an historic sex cult who’d uncovered the true powers
of the circle. It’s a time machine. Aubrey intended to travel back three
hundred and sixty-five days, but an error propelled him forward three hundred
and sixty-five years into a world alien to him.
Simon reluctantly takes the lost time traveler
under his wing, and Aubrey teaches Simon the ways of sex, love, and magic.
Simon’s never felt so alive, but as their bond grows, Aubrey remains determined
to perform a dangerous ritual and return home at the winter solstice. Fearing
he’s no more to Aubrey than a sexual sacrifice, Simon must discover the dark
secrets of Aubrey’s pagan past. Only then can Simon choose between risking all
for the man he loves or a lonely Christmas without him.
Excerpt:
Simon pointed. “So
what’s your theory on this one?”
“This image,” said
Aubrey, “symbolizes the relentless shift of time, the sun over the ring.” He
slid his hand over Simon’s wrist, and Simon inhaled sharply. He ought to pull
away, yet his skin tingled beneath Aubrey’s palm. The world beyond, even the
crispness of the rain, seemed to fade. He found himself scrambling closer so he
knelt on the Solstice Stone, letting the man manipulate him till Simon’s finger
pointed to a carving similar to the first. Here the sun and the stone were
bound together by what he took to be curling vines, but the sphere representing
the sun had been torn in two.
“This one,” continued
Aubrey, “shows us how the power of the Ancestors can tear the very fabric of
time and undo the injustices that rip loved ones apart. This is andaga.”
“Eh?” Simon had never
read anything about a ritual that tore the fabric of time. Then again, he
recalled the words of the naked guy looming over him on this very Solstice Stone
well enough. He’d said something about spinning back time, and that set Simon’s
nerves jangling. “What evidence supports this theory?”
Aubrey looked to the
misted horizon, clenching his jaw against a tremor that shook his body from
head to toe. “The power of the Ancients remains alive in this place.”
Simon opened his
mouth to snap that he needed a better answer than that, but his words jammed.
As Aubrey moved, the lacing that fastened his white shirt fell loose, revealing
a physique chiseled to lean perfection by either gym or hard labor, his carved
chest adorned with soggy golden curls.
Simon’s throat
tightened. So did his groin. Aubrey slid his gaze to Simon and lowered his
lashes. He seemed to be begging a silent question, but Simon could not even start
to comprehend.
“But let’s forget
time tearing,” murmured Aubrey.
He stroked Simon’s
sodden brown hair from where it had clumped across his eye, and Simon’s usually
sharp mind dissolved to mush. He could hardly remember how to breathe. The man
slid featherlight fingertips down Simon’s smoothly shaven cheek, setting his
skin aflame and doing nothing to dissipate his growing hard-on. Simon sent a
final, desperate message to his fingers to swipe the man away; he needed to say
something, anything.
Next thing he knew,
the man grabbed him and kissed him hard.
For a blissful moment
Simon surrendered, and his senses reeled under the onslaught. Aubrey plundered
deep into Simon’s mouth, and Simon slid his tongue against Aubrey’s, hot and
slick in contrast to the chill of their skin, willing him to intensify their
coupling. Aubrey worked the kiss like his life depended on it, scrubbing his
coarse stubble against Simon’s chin. Simon relished the sensation even as the
man’s hunger astounded him. Aubrey’s hands trembled as he splayed them across
Simon’s back. Then he balled fists in the fabric of Simon’s coat as if he were
a drowning mariner grasping a rope from the shore. Their bodies notched
together so naturally, and something Aubrey wore—a belt, maybe, concealed beneath
his clothes—dug into Simon’s stomach. Simon shifted, looping his arms about the
man’s neck, his knee nudging between Aubrey’s. He reveled in the hardness of
the man’s thighs, and—oh yes. The
length of Aubrey’s cock pressed against Simon’s leg, with only Simon’s tight,
wet jeans and Aubrey’s loose clothing between them.
What in heaven, hell,
or any realm in between could have possessed this cross between a god and a
soggy wolf pup to kiss him? And at a
time like this?
Aubrey’s frenzy
proved infectious; Simon grew needier by the second. Some awesome power bound
them together, as surely as the carved vines wound about that phallic stone.
His cock stiffened for this guy, his contact-starved body screaming for more,
so much more. Aubrey lowered Simon till he lay flat on the stone, and Simon
could not resist. He feared this strange man, but with fear came thrill—an
awakening of desires that, since his experience at this very spot, he’d dared
visit only in the dusky realm between nightmares and dreams.
When Aubrey broke
away, both of them panted. Aubrey cupped Simon’s face and whispered in his ear.
“That’s just the start of our offering, Simon. Shall we show the Ancestors how
much we adore them?”
Simon gazed up at
him, so turned on the man’s words were hard to comprehend. With Pete sex had
been so complicated. They’d spent more time arguing about who should do what
than they had actually doing it. With
Aubrey their conjoined desires grew so stark that Simon bit his tongue against
vocalizing his darkest cravings.
I
want you to fuck me here and now. To heaven and back on the Solstice Stone.
Aubrey pulled away a
moment, raking his hair—and Simon suddenly realized what had pressed into him
as they embraced. Aubrey indeed wore a belt. It had shifted around as they’d
kissed to reveal an old-fashioned dagger sheathed in black leather.
His common sense
became deafening.
He didn’t fuck
strangers, let alone ones who carried knives. Maybe he was finally starting to
understand what he’d seen last Christmas. It had been a premonition.
The Ancestors warning
him never to lie beneath another man on the Solstice Stone.
“Shit!” he yelped.
“Get away from me!”
(NOTE: Kay will be giving away an e-book copy of Simon, Sex and the Solstice Stone OR a single title from her backlist to one lucky commenter!)
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