Leon Alcantara is a real son of a witch.
The last in a proud line of witches, he’s come to test his small magic in the big city. Stealing enchanted artifacts pays the rent, but the competition is fierce. And handsome. And great at magic, too.
But Maximilian Drake and his dark, brooding glances are the least of Leon’s problems. A chain of anomalies surges through the city, strange distortions in reality that threaten both Dos Lunas and its people.
Suspected by the arcane authorities, Leon is forced to work with his nemesis to clear his name. But Max is so secretive over his shrouded past. Can he even be trusted? Leon must decide before the anomalies destroy the city — and his entire life.
Excerpt:
“You,” he growled, panting as he clutched the edge of the doorframe.
“Me,” I replied, fingers somehow tangled in a bra strap. “Hi. Don’t be mad.”
He roared as he charged toward me. I panicked, vaulted over the bed, the two of us separated by the exact width of a California king.
I held up my hands. “Whoa, now, tiger. It’s okay. We can work together on this, you and me.”
“Like hell we are,” he snarled, jabbing his finger at me. “I’m not teaming up with someone who plays cowardly tricks the way you do.”
I cocked my hip to the side and stroked my chin. “I mean, you were the one screaming your head off not two minutes ago. Technically, sir, you’re the coward, here.”
The man lunged toward the mattress, his teeth bared. I yelped, skirting around the edge of the bed, aiming for the exit. He swerved immediately, never committing to scrambling over the bed. It was just a feint. He bolted at me like a stampeding rhino, so much faster than I expected him to be.
Huge hands grabbed me by the ends of my jacket. I let out a squeak, rallied what was left of my audacity — plenty to spare, in truth — and gave him my brightest smile.
“Hey, handsome,” I purred, horrified and yet delighted to see him again. Maybe I was horrified about being so delighted in the first place. I couldn’t help myself, my impulse to tease severely overriding my drive for self-preservation.
“No more of your little party tricks,” he said, his gaze piercing and steely. “Whatever you did to my brain — no more of that nonsense.”
My cheeks hitched. I knew that my smile reached my eyes. I really couldn’t help it. Being flirtatious came so naturally to me.
Did I say flirtatious? I meant playful. Yeah. Playful worked, too.
“I have other, more pleasant spells I could use on you, you know,” I told him. “At least now we both know you’re a screamer.”
I winked. The man exhaled softly, but sharply, the tiniest snort of annoyance. It was so easy to get a rise out of him, and somehow, in a somewhat frustrating way, he looked even handsomer in his anger. If he asked gruffly enough, if he batted those grim yet sad eyes, I’d probably hand the goods over.
“Hand over the goods,” he growled. My eyes widened. Wow. He was totally on-script. Incredibly sexy, too, the way his voice rasped around that very respectable threat.
“So sorry,” I told him. “But I really, really need this gig. If I turn this in, I get to pay rent, put food on the table. Maybe save up for a nicer pair of shoes.”
He cocked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting slowly down to look at my sneakers. I grinned, then planted the sole of my shoe square in his chest, kicking with all my might.
The man grunted as he stumbled backward, too big and strong for me to topple over. I turned tail and ran like hell, nervous, terrified giggling bubbling up from my belly.
Not three feet out the doorway, a heavy weight slammed into my back, knocking the air out of my lungs and my scrawny ass onto the floor. Face first, too. Ouch. I groaned, totally winded, the carpet imprinting on my cheek. Gross. I chuckled, or at least I tried to.
“You going to cuff me, big boy?”
“I’m not one of the Masques, if that’s what you’re asking.” He rolled me onto my back, his face dark with fury, the full weight of him pinning me to the ground as he straddled me with his hips. No cuffs, but still kinky. “I’m a finder, like you,” he continued. “Except I’m not as sloppy.”
Something inside me twitched with defiance, even more so when his hands came down to pin my wrists to the floor. I couldn’t help myself. “Excuse me. Sloppy?”
“You left the door open and unlocked when you came into the house. Based on our conversation downstairs, you didn’t even know the Smiths were out of town.” He allowed himself a smug grin. “And possibly most embarrassing of all, you sneezed. That was how I found you.”
I glowered. “And exactly how was I supposed to hold that sneeze back?” I bucked against him, suddenly angry. “It’s a perfectly natural bodily function.”
He bent lower, powerful thighs pressing tightly around my hips. I gulped and stopped struggling, worried about my other perfectly natural bodily functions.
Nazri Noor is a California-based author of Filipino and Malaysian descent. He can curse fluently in three languages, but only writes in English. He also speaks just enough Sindarin and Valyrian to impress absolutely no one. Nazri loves writing urban fantasy heroes who use wits, style, and their wildly unpredictable magic to save the day. They often fall in love, too.
Gay Romance Reviews Tours 