GENRE: Gay Steampunk Paranormal Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 21,381 words
RATING:

Marcus runs a modest bookshop and is delighted when his boyfriend Jonathon proposes. But then the nightmares begin -- the image of an angel in a vast, darkened cellar, or of him, unable to move, with Jonathon in danger. There also seems to be someone following him.

When Jonathon has to return to his family home to take possession of his grandmother’s inheritance, Marcus insists on going with him. While staying in the nearby inn, Marcus meets a woman who cautions him, offering him a medallion for protection.

To Marcus’s surprise, he receives a summons to his guardian’s home on All Hallow’s Eve for Lord Kyrin to discuss his own inheritance. But this is the start of the real nightmare for Marcus. He and Jonathon will need to fight for their lives and break a curse that’s taken the lives of many before.

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

For the next couple of days, Marcus felt as if he were walking on air. Everything was going so well. Then the dreams, or rather nightmares began. The timing of them coinciding with a letter Jonathon received from his father ordering, albeit very politely, him to visit the country home.

Currently Jonathon was away with a senior partner in the law firm, attending a client, learning more of the business, and so Marcus was even unable to take comfort in the arms of his fiancé. It was Jonathon’s intention to take a train to the country at the weekend.

Marcus tried to focus on his beloved books. But even they failed to entrance him as they normally would. He decided to rearrange a display, and in moving one book, revealed the cover of another, and froze in place. The image was that of an angel without stretched arms.

The room around him faded into dim light.

He was looking up, unable to move as though pinned in place like a butterfly. But he knew Jonathon was there, close to him. As was something else. Something very dark and terrible. Jonathon was in danger. Marcus wanted to yell and scream for Jonathon to run, but words dried in his throat.

He had to warn Jonathon, simply had to. He opened his mouth to scream ...

And he was back in his shop. Marcus glanced around frantically, but the dream or vision was gone. Nothing of it remained, and not even closing his eyes brought it back.

Marcus sagged heavily against the bookshelves. Whether it had been a waking dream or a vision, or something else entirely, it had frightened him, and meant that there was a threat to Jonathon.

I will not let anything harm him. I will not.

He doubted Jonathon would take him to see his father. Not because he was ashamed of Marcus or their relationship. But he wanted nothing to interfere with him gaining his grandmother’s inheritance.

It was one thing for Jonathon’s father to hear rumours, however reliable the source, about Jonathon and him. It was another entirely to show up with Marcus on his arm, so to speak. Discretion was preferred by both of them over being explicit.

At least for now. But there was nothing to say he couldn’t stay in the nearby village. He’d discuss it with Jonathon on his return.

Marcus inhaled deeply. He couldn’t allow dreams to dominate his life. He would organise a surprise for Jonathon.

I’ll get a picnic hamper together. We can eat at Jonathon’s apartment. I’m sure he’ll be tired, so better we stay in. And better the chance that he and I can make love if we do.

Marcus made sure to put his books away before doing anything else. Then, his decision made Marcus closed his shop and went to purchase the hamper.

* * * *

By the time he’d exited the shop, it was already getting dark, and a mist swirled around him as he headed to Jonathon’s apartments. He glanced at the hamper, smiling. Its contents were the reason he walked rather than get a cab.

They were a little extravagant, but he’d felt well worth it. Sandwiches, pork pie, pickles, cheese, bread, and butter for savoury. Trifle, strawberries, and a bottle of champagne to dip them in, for dessert.

There were few other people around, just the occasional passerby or carriage as he walked. But the hairs at the nape of his neck rose as he became convinced there was someone dogging his steps.