Category: Ethan White

A Hero Ensnared: The Complete Series

Castor, a semi-retired superhero with shapeshifting abilities who goes by the name of Phantom, is called back to duty.

A younger super-colleague of his, Corey, A.K.A. Tempest, has been rescued from a month-long imprisonment. While Corey swears he's fine and he's ready to go back to his job of protecting Selene City from the ever-present threat of supervillains, the ruling council isn't sure if they can take Corey at his word. Thus, they send Castor after him, to tail him, to watch him, and to ensure the younger superhero is safe.

But it seems Corey was never the one at risk...it's Castor. He's seductively drawn deep into submission, to ignore his charge and duty, to give everything he is...to Marcus, A.K.A. the archvillain Imperious. The final side of himself that he has to give up? His sexual freedom.

Tempest, once one of the leading superheroes in Selene City, is about to become a sexual servant to the biggest threat to Selene City.

A Hero Ensnared: The Complete Series is a 28,000-word collection of all four stories in the A Hero Ensnared series.

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Excerpt

Castor flashed the broadest grin he could at Corey. “Now, now, Corey. Let’s not pretend you’re all pure and innocent either. You probably have some sort of fantasy about fucking yourself,” he said.

Corey leaned up, propping his torso up with his elbows against the mattress. “What if I did?” he said, voice dropping to a lower, huskier register. “You going to do anything about it? I bet you love to transform into me and jerk off in front of a mirror so you can watch me beating my meat.”

“Oh yeah. I love to edge your big cock while standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Did you know that you blush from your neck when you get turned on?” Castor purred.

Castor leaned forward, looking up to meet Corey’s gaze. He licked his lips. With a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips, he cast his gaze down.

Corey’s eyes followed Castor’s.

Hook, line, and sinker, Castor thought to himself and chuckled. Now that he had Corey’s attention where he wanted it, he rubbed the erection growing between his own legs.

Gods,” Corey groaned. “I’m so fucking pent up.”

It was a little bit filthy, and maybe a lot crazy, but Castor had been banking on it. “Then maybe you could use a hand?” he said, feigning innocence. “Or a mouth?”

Corey sucked in a breath. He flicked his gaze out past Castor’s shoulder, at the door. “I shouldn’t—” Corey said, glancing back down between Castor’s legs. “I can’t possibly ask—”

Castor smiled. He grabbed Corey’s hand and raised it to his lips. He caught a finger in his lips and popped it in, swirling his tongue once around the tip. “You’re not asking,” he murmured, in a low and husky voice. “I’m offering.

A bright pink flush bloomed on Corey’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. It was easy to forget that Corey was a little bit on the meeker side when his heroic alter ego, Tempest, was such a fucking badass. It was really nice to see this more vulnerable, more bashful side. It awakened something inside him that he rarely got to indulge since he was more on the submissive side himself.

“A-at least a-activate the privacy screen,” Corey muttered.

Castor stood from his seat, a glint in his eye. He lowered Corey’s hand from his lips to his crotch, bumping the outline of his hard cock against the knuckles. “SIBYL, would you be able to activate the privacy screen for us?” said Castor.

I would be able to do so, yes,” chimed SIBYL in response, though she didn’t actually activate the privacy screen. “While Corey’s physical condition has experienced remarkable improvement ever since Fatima started treating him, I must advise that he refrain from any strenuous activity.”

“That’s alright, SIBYL,” said Castor, as Corey’s wrist twisted in his grip. He bit his lower lip to stifle the groan that nearly escaped him as Corey’s fingers traced at the outline of his cock. “You don’t think a blowjob would be too strenuous, would you?”

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Withdrawal (A Hero Ensnared #4)

Marcus, A.K.A. the archvillain Imperious, is not a man that takes “no,” for an answer. When Castor refuses to surrender himself mind, body, and soul to Marcus’ service, he ends up locked in an enchanted filigree chastity cage.

While he is able to resist the temptation for a while, his body’s needs eventually drive him up the wall, and only one man can give him what he needs. Despite his better judgment he approaches Marcus, principles and morals discarded for the need that’s eating him up from the inside.

Withdrawal is an 8,000-word short story and part four of a four-part series.

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Excerpt

Again, Marcus shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want you to give yourself to me. Body, mind, and soul. Serve me at and for my pleasure.”

Castor gulped. His cock twitched. “What? Like a sex slave?”

Marcus smirked. “Like a sex slave.”

For once, Castor was able to shut down the arousal. The shock was too much. He gawped at Marcus for a moment, his mind spinning at the thought. “W-what the hell?!” he said. “N-no way!”

Despite how far he’d fallen, he still had some scruples. Just because he’d let his penis corrupt him into a filthy pervert didn’t mean he wanted to serve as a villain’s fucktoy.

Not that the prospect wasn’t tempting. His cock certainly made no secret of that. Despite having come only minutes before, he was starting to chub up again, and all because of Marcus’ offer.

Castor shook his head. No. He had to focus. This was a step too far and he couldn’t believe part of him was seriously considering it.

He hadn’t fallen that far, had he? Just because he didn’t consider himself a hero anymore didn’t mean he didn’t give a shit about the cause anymore.

But the idea was just so hot. He and the tiny voice in the back of his head agreed on that. He had to at least admit that.

But just because it was hot didn’t mean he had to do it. No. No. No matter how hard the prospect made him, that was a step he couldn’t take.

Marcus chuckled. It was almost predictable that he’d enjoy the conflict raging inside Castor. A villain through and through, no matter how handsome he looked.

“Do you mean to tell me you are happy with the way things are?” said Marcus.

Castor’s cheeks took on a faint pink tinge. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered.

“Oh, you must be feeling it now,” said Marcus. “Guilt. Remorse. A sinking feeling in your gut. Not because you are a cock-obsessed pervert—I know you accept that and part of you, indeed, is actually quite proud of the fact—but because of what you have failed to do.”

Castor gulped audibly. Marcus’ insight proved once again to be unerringly accurate.

He did feel bad. Not because he’d played with himself and gooned out on his penis on the job, but because he’d ruined things for Corey as a result.

The only reason he wasn’t beating himself up over it was that Marcus had talked about rescheduling the date being a net benefit. Otherwise, he might well have hated himself into the next week.

Marcus grabbed Castor by the face, placing his thumb on his chin and hooking his index finger underneath. He forced him to look into his enchanting blue eyes as he said, “Are you satisfied with being a cock-addicted, porn-addicted loser that lets his friends down because he is too much of a reprobate to know even the slightest hint of restraint?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Marcus’ mouth as he continued. “You and I both know this will only get worse. Degenerates like you only ever do. There will come the occasion when you goon on your batestick at the wrong time and hurt someone you love.”

Marcus’ blue eyes felt like they were boring into the very depths of Castor’s soul, where all his fears and insecurities lay. “Is that the life you want to live, pervert?” Marcus whispered, his voice like ice water pouring down the curve of Castor’s spine.

“N-no,” Castor gasped, tears brimming in his eyes, “No! Never! B-but I can’t join you.”

Marcus laughed as Castor felt something cold and hard cinch around the base of his cock. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Caldwell, I am not a man who is used to hearing the word ‘No.’ You will come around. One way or another.”

Castor looked down as Marcus released his chin. Just in time to watch the man’s hand fasten a tight filigree cage around his cock.

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Addiction (A Hero Ensnared #3)

The encounter in the forest haunts Castor. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get those blue eyes out of his mind. He’d heard the stories but he’d never imagined the archvillain Imperious could leave such an indelible first impression.

He’s almost helpless to resist his body’s wants. Even when he has a mission of utmost importance, he can’t help but indulge his carnal nature—a nature that Imperious had exposed not too long ago.

Addiction is a 6,800-word short story and part three of a four-part series.

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Excerpt

This was bad.

He needed to stop.

He needed to resist. Just this once.

He had to pull his hand out of his pants, fix his clothes, and look presentable. Corey’s date was due to arrive any minute now to pick him up. But his hard, swollen cock just felt too good to ignore.

And if there was anything he’d come to understand over the last month, it was that he was powerless to resist the insistent, needy throbbing of his arousal. Fuck.

There was no use fighting. He couldn’t win. He didn’t have the strength, the discipline, or the willpower.

Once upon a time—back when he’d been a real hero—he might have managed to put duty before self-pleasure. Not anymore. That was abundantly clear.

There was only one option now: surrender. He could struggle vainly for the next few minutes only to fail or he could just…let his cock take control.

That way, at least, there was the faint hope he’d finish in the few minutes he had left to spare. If he was lucky, he’d finish with enough time to spare to get all presentable again.

Reluctantly, Castor pulled his hand out of his pants. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped, sighing with relief as the tightness eased on his erection.

He looked down between his legs and licked his lips as he fished his cock out of his underwear. It twitched in the cool air, pre-cum dripping down the underside. It was a wonder he hadn’t yet made a wet spot in his pants.

Fuck.

Castor was so godsdamned horny. His cock was so godsdamned hard. He needed this so bad the first stroke alone produced a thrill of pleasure so powerful his mind went momentarily blank.

His breathing became shallower. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes fluttering. He moaned as he worked his hand up and down the length of his shaft.

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Voyeurism (A Hero Ensnared #2)

Castor Caldwell, A.K.A. Phantom, retired from active superhero duty years ago for good reason. He’s just not suited to that life anymore. He much prefers the relative luxury of using his shapeshifting powers to stand in for the front-liners, making sure their secret identities stay secret.

When Tempest is called back to duty, however, Castor is called up from retirement to keep an eye on him just in case there are some lingering effects from the younger super’s month-long capture. Unfortunately for him, things only get worse from there as an encounter with a fallen hero reveals that things are not quite as they seem with Tempest.

Voyeurism is a 7,000-word short story and part two of a four-part series.

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Excerpt

Castor squirmed in his restraints. His cock throbbed. There was now a sizable lump in the front of his suit and thanks to the way Luxus had tied him up, he had no way to hide it.

He felt like he was watching a cheap B-reel superhero porno, complete with the awful acting and hammy dialogue. It was so bad it went right back around to being hot and his obvious arousal made that fact readily apparent.

Imperious turned away from the action and faced Castor. “Do you understand now?” he said. “Why you are nothing like him?”

Castor gulped. He could guess what Imperious was getting at. And considering where those bright blue eyes were currently pointed, he was all but certain.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” said Imperious, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That is perfectly acceptable. Allow me to elucidate.”

Imperious walked up to Castor. Uncomfortably close.

Despite Castor being tied to the tree as to essentially be at eye level with Imperious, the latter seemed to nevertheless loom over him. There was just something so undeniably imposing in the sheer weight of presence Imperious threw around.

Castor’s inner thigh trembled as Imperious’ fingers drifted feather-light along the curve of his leg. He could feel the nails tracing thin lines on his skin as if the suit wasn’t there at all.

His breath caught in his throat as Imperious’ fingers drifted to his crotch. The archvillain cupped his balls with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re not a real hero, are you, Castor?” Imperious murmured.

Castor’s heart skipped a beat. “W-what kind of nonsense is that? F-fuck you! I am a real hero!”

Imperious smirked. He slipped his hand forward, letting Castor’s balls rest in his palm as he massaged them with his thumb. Castor had to suck in a breath to suppress the moan that threatened to spill from his lips at the sensation.

The corner of Imperious’ mouth twitched. “You cannot mean to say you really think so. You know, deep down, you are a sorry excuse for a hero.”

Castor’s cheeks burned. Just because he’d chosen to retire didn’t mean he was any less of a hero than Tempest was.

He’d shed blood, sweat, and tears in the name of justice. He’d done his time. He was just done with the tragedy of all of it.

He was a hero, still. He wouldn’t have stayed on with the Hall, otherwise. There were Supers all over the place that led normal lives, perfectly aware of their powers and in control of their own destinies. Castor was with the Hall because he wanted to help, still, just not by being on the front lines of the war against villainy.

Imperious traced a single finger up along the underside of Castor’s cock. “Right about now, I imagine you are trying to rationalize to yourself that you are still a hero. That I am wrong…”

Heat bloomed across Castor’s cheeks. It seemed Imperious had him dead to rights.

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Indulgence (A Hero Ensnared #1)

Corey Cooper, A.K.A. Tempest, vigilant protector and pride of Selene City, has been found and rescued from a cabal of powerful villains after a month and a half of no contact.

Castor, who has been using his shapeshifter powers to stand in for Corey in his absence pays him a visit at the hospital where he is convalescing and gives him some much-needed relief and some not-as-necessary self-indulgence.

Indulgence is a 7,000-word short story and part one of a four-part series.

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Excerpt

Castor flashed the broadest grin he could at Corey. “Now, now, Corey. Let’s not pretend you’re all pure and innocent either. You probably have some sort of fantasy about fucking yourself,” he said.

Corey leaned up, propping his torso up with his elbows against the mattress. “What if I did?” he said, voice dropping to a lower, huskier register. “You going to do anything about it? I bet you love to transform into me and jerk off in front of a mirror so you can watch me beating my meat.”

“Oh yeah. I love to edge your big cock while standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Did you know that you blush from your neck when you get turned on?” Castor purred.

Castor leaned forward, looking up to meet Corey’s gaze. He licked his lips. With a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips, he cast his gaze down.

Corey’s eyes followed Castor’s.

Hook, line, and sinker, Castor thought to himself and chuckled. Now that he had Corey’s attention where he wanted it, he rubbed the erection growing between his own legs.

Gods,” Corey groaned. “I’m so fucking pent up.”

It was a little bit filthy, and maybe a lot crazy, but Castor had been banking on it. “Then maybe you could use a hand?” he said, feigning innocence. “Or a mouth?”

Corey sucked in a breath. He flicked his gaze out past Castor’s shoulder, at the door. “I shouldn’t—” Corey said, glancing back down between Castor’s legs. “I can’t possibly ask—”

Castor smiled. He grabbed Corey’s hand and raised it to his lips. He caught a finger in his lips and popped it in, swirling his tongue once around the tip. “You’re not asking,” he murmured, in a low and husky voice. “I’m offering.

A bright pink flush bloomed on Corey’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. It was easy to forget that Corey was a little bit on the meeker side when his heroic alter ego, Tempest, was such a fucking badass. It was really nice to see this more vulnerable, more bashful side. It awakened something inside him that he rarely got to indulge since he was more on the submissive side himself.

“A-at least a-activate the privacy screen,” Corey muttered.

Castor stood from his seat, a glint in his eye. He lowered Corey’s hand from his lips to his crotch, bumping the outline of his hard cock against the knuckles. “SIBYL, would you be able to activate the privacy screen for us?” said Castor.

I would be able to do so, yes,” chimed SIBYL in response, though she didn’t actually activate the privacy screen. “While Corey’s physical condition has experienced remarkable improvement ever since Fatima started treating him, I must advise that he refrain from any strenuous activity.”

“That’s alright, SIBYL,” said Castor, as Corey’s wrist twisted in his grip. He bit his lower lip to stifle the groan that nearly escaped him as Corey’s fingers traced at the outline of his cock. “You don’t think a blowjob would be too strenuous, would you?”

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Building a Pack: The Complete Series 4-Pack Bundle

This thrilling and sexy bundle collects all four parts of Ethan White’s Building a Pack series!

Included in this book are:

THE BITE: When his boyfriend of four years leaves him for a woman, Isaac is despondent. At his moment of greatest need, a stranger shows up with an offer: the power to make sure he never has to suffer like this again.

RESCUE: After receiving the bite from Gabriel, Isaac is awakening to the werewolf powers that are now a part of him. His first order of business is rescuing his boyfriend Kevin from the clutches of an enemy that has been forcefully converting gay men straight against their will.

PUNISHMENT: Even though Isaac has already forgiven him for their acrimonious break-up, Kevin still harbors guilt for the things he said and did. He insists that Isaac punish him for his actions. It’s the only way he can think of to atone for the pain he put Isaac through.

REDEMPTION: Henry is an ex-gay priest who takes pride in his work turning gay men away from a life of sin. He also happens to be the perpetrator Isaac, Kevin, and Gabriel have been tracking. When they collide, and it’s discovered that Henry is as much of a victim as the men he converted, Isaac saves him from the life of lies that he’d been forced to live.

Building a Pack: The Complete Series 4-Pack Bundle is a 28,800-word collection of previously published stories.

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Excerpt

I just don’t know where else to turn to…

The earnest words of the prayer, spoken in words slurred with drink, were like a whisper in the breeze that wound through the halls of the temple to the Étrad Sídhthe. The attendants laboriously polishing the gilded statues of men in all types of ecstasy looked about as if perturbed by the sound. “Is that what I think it is?” said one, hanging from the ceiling in a sling of ropes whilst absentmindedly rubbing a statue’s gleaming bicep with a cloth and his crotch.

None of this makes any sense! I just want him back…

“I think it is,” said another of the attendants, cleaning the toes of a golden Adonis with his tongue. He turned his eyes to the vaulted ceiling, to the glimmering silks crossing from one side of the hall to the other, suspended from the tops of the marble columns that paraded down the length of the corridor.

I’ll pay any price! I’ll give you anything you want! I just want him back…

Gaining in strength and bolstered by the benediction of the temple’s attendants, the prayer thundered down the central aisle of the main chamber. The words were steeped in the kind of desperation known only to the most sincere of loves. Disciples of the Étrad Sídhthe in their leathers and sheer cloths looked up from their coupling. Even the Cáel Sídhe took notice.

Perched upon a dais where an altar should have been were two tall thrones. Atop one, Cáel draped his slight, effete body over one of the armrests. In that position, the bright pink veils he wore, that left very little to the imagination to begin with, revealed even more of his lithe form.

With the twitch of an eyebrow, the Cáel looked across to the man seated on the other throne. His eyes glowed with the light of divination as he sought the source of the prayer’s pain. When he found it, he gave the Brogda Sídhe a meaningful look and said, “Well…that’s not good. I’m tempted, but do we even want to touch this right now?”

“It’s definitely not good,” said Brogda. His deep, sensual baritone voice sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room whose heart held even the slightest dreg of submissiveness. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed with thought.

The dignified purple toga edged in gold stretched across Brogda’s broad chest and bulging muscles as he considered the situation, and the prayer. “But I don’t think that we want to touch it. Not directly, at least. He’s declared war, but you know what it took last time. We need time to get ready.”

“But we are going to do something, right?” said Cáel, emphasizing his words with exaggerated gestures with his right hand. He would have used both hands, but his left was busy stroking the massive cock of the disciple perched on the other armrest of his throne. “This isn’t something we can just let go.

Brogda leaned back with a small, wicked smirk. “Correct. Which means that we’ll have to use someone who is, on the surface at least, not directly affiliated with us.” He rested his palms on the ends of the armrests of his throne. The disciple that had been worshipping his feet doubled his efforts as Brogda’s mighty cock stirred to life. The front of Brogda’s toga tented upward, parting around the rock-hard pillar that was his erection.

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Redemption (Building a Pack #4)

Henry takes pride in the work that he does, helping young, misguided gay men find God and their inner heterosexual. During one such conversion session, proceedings are interrupted by uninvited guests.

Isaac, Kevin, and Gabriel have been on the trail of the man responsible for the conversions in the community and just so happen to catch the perpetrator red-handed, only to find out that Henry’s just another victim.

Everyone deserves a second chance, though, and with his newfound power, Isaac rescues Henry from the false life that had been forced onto him.

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Excerpt

The creak of leather upholstery drew Henry’s attention. His driver, Manuel, was looking at him through the rear-view mirror. Manuel scratched the back of his head, glancing briefly outside the window. “Are you sure about this, padre?” said Manuel. “I don’t like how this place looks. I can drive you back to the church, no problem.”

“Thank you, Manuel,” said Henry, as they pulled up to the front building. The sidewalk was desolate. A plastic bag scraped across the pavement, caught in the wind. “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I must do. God wills it.”

Henry slid his fingers down the seatbelt and unbuckled it. He smoothed down the front of his cassock with one hand as he reached for his briefcase with the other. He stepped out of the car, briefly shivering in the cold.

Taking a breath to center himself, Henry walked over to the driver’s side of the car. He stooped down to the window as Manuel lowered it. “Are you really sure you can’t put this off, padre? Or do this somewhere else?” said Manuel. “Just say the word and I’ll drive you back, no charge.”

Henry laughed. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Enrique,” he said. He held out a hand. Manuel shook it, grip firm. “It was nice meeting you. You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll send you a message when I need a ride back to the parish. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us, Mr. Enrique.”

Manuel stared at the hundred-dollar bill that Henry had left in his hand. He looked up at the priest. “No, padre, I can’t accept this,” he said. “It’s too much!”

“Mr. Enrique,” said Henry, saying the words deliberately, “I would very much appreciate your discretion.”

Manuel gulped. He glanced at the bill and then back at Henry one more time before pocketing the money. “O-of course, padre,” he stammered. “Do you have any idea how long you’ll be? I might, uh, take a few fares after this.”

Henry shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know for sure. I’ll message you when I’m done. And don’t worry. I know you need to make a living. I won’t mind waiting.” He patted the chassis of the car twice before taking a step back from the curb and gave Manuel a little wave as the cab drove away.

Once Manuel drove out of sight, Henry turned to face the building. He remembered what had been, once. A house of debauchery and sin in one of the city’s most active districts. A nightclub that not only encouraged fornication out of wedlock, but a kind most contemptible in the eyes of the Lord. Now here it stood, empty and condemned, as was proper.

The corners of Henry’s lips twitched into a little smile, knowing that he’d had a hand in shutting not just this awful establishment down, but the entire district of degeneracy that had once surrounded it. He liked to think that he had saved at least a few souls from damnation for his part. Today, Henry hoped, he’d be able to save yet another soul, just as he’d been saved fifteen years ago, when he’d been young, misguided, and lost.

Henry entered the building. The poorly-maintained hinges creaked as he pushed the wooden door open. It wasn’t his first time inside, but it never failed to amaze him how much the place had changed. He still remembered where the dance floor was, and how much time he’d used to spend there. He shook his head. What a distasteful memory.

Quickly, and with purpose, Henry crossed the floor to the back of the building. He entered the stairwell and climbed up to the now-empty offices at the top. From the landing, he went to the right-hand corridor and knocked on the third door on the left.

The door swung open. “You’re late,” said a voice. It belonged to a uniformed police officer about Henry’s age, with blond hair framing a handsome, youthful face, and vivid blue eyes. “We’ve been doing this every month for the last three years and you’re still late.”

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Punishment (Building a Pack #3)

Isaac has his boyfriend back, and he couldn’t be happier. None of it changes what has happened between them, though, and the guilt of the things that Kevin said and did weighs heavily on Kevin’s shoulders.

Isaac doesn’t think there’s anything to forgive. He’s just happy to have Kevin back, but Kevin insists that he needs to make up for it somehow. Left with no other choice, Isaac gives in and he delivers the punishment that Kevin has asked for.

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Excerpt

Crack.

Chains jangled and Isaac flinched. A quiet sob echoed in the spacious room, and leather rasped against bare concrete as the whip dragged on the floor behind Isaac. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the snap of the whip, much less the sound of it hitting bare skin, but Gabriel had insisted he learn.

In all honesty, Isaac never once imagined he would be in a place like this. It wasn’t his first time here, but it was still strange how the rich burgundy walls and the variety of equipment hung up on their racks, called out to him. The coarseness of the bare concrete floor under his feet felt right, too, somehow. Even the way that the leather straps, of the harness he wore across his chest, dug in felt proper.

The tail of the whip trailed behind Isaac as he walked around the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room. Kevin was strung up against it with heavy chains fastened to the thick stainless steel manacles locked around his wrists and ankles. His back was exposed to the air and already had four thin welts marking where the whip had struck.

A cold knot settled into the pit of Isaac’s stomach as he came around to look Kevin in the face. Streaks of tears stained his mate’s cheeks, but Kevin’s jaw was set, and his eyes burned with determination. The instinct to protect was difficult to quell, but Isaac did so, anyway. He resisted the urge to ask if Kevin needed a break—as they’d barely even just begun.

Clenching his hands around the handle of the whip, Isaac walked around to the side of the cross. He took a moment to examine the landscape of Kevin’s back, to choose a good spot to hit that wasn’t too close to the previous lashes.

Two weeks had passed since Isaac and Gabriel rescued Kevin. Isaac didn’t often think about her anymore, but there was still a part of him that wanted to run down the bitch that stole Kevin and tear out her throat. Isaac shook his head. Thinking those thoughts were what had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

Isaac had been stupid enough to tell Gabriel about the anger he felt, about the bloodlust thrumming through his veins, the day after he got Kevin back. That was the first time he ever set foot in the dungeon, only he hadn’t been the punisher, then.

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Rescue (Building a Pack #2)

There are three facts that have turned Isaac’s life upside down. One: magic is real. Two: werewolves are real and he is turning into one. Three: someone out there is turning gay guys straight.

Now that he has received the bite from the werewolf Alpha Gabriel, Isaac has the power to protect the people he loves. The first order of business is rescuing his boyfriend from the clutches of the unscrupulous people turning gay people straight.

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Excerpt

The golden rays of early morning’s light streamed through the blinds drawn over the windows. The plastic slats cast long shadows across the alarm clock on the nightstand, which read 7:30 AM, while the streaks of light illuminated the sparse motes of dust drifting lazily through the air.

With a quiet sigh, Isaac cracked open an eye and smiled. The events of the auspicious day that had changed everything were still fresh in his mind. He never would have thought that weeks of agony and misery starting when his boyfriend “saw the light” and turned straight could culminate in something so beautiful, so pleasurable, and so empowering.

Isaac still felt a pang of hurt in his chest thinking about Kevin. He imagined he would continue to feel that way for a while. Hearing his boyfriend call him a faggot and mean every syllable, watching him walk away into the arms of a woman, had left a wound that would take a while to heal.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac stretched his arms over his head and yawned. The air was thick with the musk of men, the scent of sweat, and the distinct, intoxicating aroma of sex. Between his legs, his cock throbbed with insistent need at the memory of Gabriel holding him, taking him from behind.

Isaac shivered. He ran his fingers over his pecs. The thick slabs of firm muscle had truly matured over the last three weeks. As a bit of a twig his whole life, Isaac had basically given up on the idea of putting on much muscle, if any at all.

Now, three weeks after he was introduced to a world that he’d always thought was nothing but myth and folklore, Isaac had not just grown broader, he’d grown taller, too. He didn’t really understand it, but the magic had somehow turned him into the best physical version of himself.

Isaac felt amazing, though to tell the truth, he felt a not-inconsiderable amount of guilt for feeling that way. Now that he understood the situation a little better thanks to Gabriel, he felt as if his happiness were somehow a betrayal of Kevin.

Isaac knew it was stupid for him to think that just because Kevin, the real Kevin, was suffering, he had to suffer too. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel that way sometimes. Being around Gabriel helped him forget about the strange, complicated way that the human heart felt things, but at his core, he was still just a guy, whatever the magic had done to him.

Fortunately, most of the time, Isaac was more than happy to just bask in the wonderful sensation of being a werewolf. While he wasn’t sure how true the impression he got was, Gabriel had somewhat implied that the full transformation would come about faster if he just let himself enjoy it. Whatever the case, that was just the kind of excuse that Isaac could use to justify the way he felt to himself.

Because Isaac felt satisfied in a way that he had never been before. He felt happy. He felt secure. He felt full. And not in the least because there was a thick cock lodged in his hole, and a pair of furry muscular arms wrapped around his waist.

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The Bite (Building a Pack #1)

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d lost his boyfriend of four years, Isaac discovered that Kevin had left him for a woman. The universe was laughing at him. He was sure of it. He didn’t think he’d ever been more miserable in his life.

Isaac would have happily drowned in his anguish, but when a handsome stranger shows up at his doorstep, he feels the slightest flicker of hope. When the stranger offers him the power to ensure that he would never have to feel so miserable again, the temptation is too great to refuse.

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Excerpt

I just don’t know where else to turn to…

The earnest words of the prayer, spoken in words slurred with drink, were like a whisper in the breeze that wound through the halls of the temple to the Étrad Sídhthe. The attendants laboriously polishing the gilded statues of men in all types of ecstasy looked about as if perturbed by the sound. “Is that what I think it is?” said one, hanging from the ceiling in a sling of ropes whilst absentmindedly rubbing a statue’s gleaming bicep with a cloth and his crotch.

None of this makes any sense! I just want him back…

“I think it is,” said another of the attendants, cleaning the toes of a golden Adonis with his tongue. He turned his eyes to the vaulted ceiling, to the glimmering silks crossing from one side of the hall to the other, suspended from the tops of the marble columns that paraded down the length of the corridor.

I’ll pay any price! I’ll give you anything you want! I just want him back…

Gaining in strength and bolstered by the benediction of the temple’s attendants, the prayer thundered down the central aisle of the main chamber. The words were steeped in the kind of desperation known only to the most sincere of loves. Disciples of the Étrad Sídhthe in their leathers and sheer cloths looked up from their coupling. Even the Cáel Sídhe took notice.

Perched upon a dais where an altar should have been were two tall thrones. Atop one, Cáel draped his slight, effete body over one of the armrests. In that position, the bright pink veils he wore, that left very little to the imagination to begin with, revealed even more of his lithe form.

With the twitch of an eyebrow, the Cáel looked across to the man seated on the other throne. His eyes glowed with the light of divination as he sought the source of the prayer’s pain. When he found it, he gave the Brogda Sídhe a meaningful look and said, “Well…that’s not good. I’m tempted, but do we even want to touch this right now?”

“It’s definitely not good,” said Brogda. His deep, sensual baritone voice sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room whose heart held even the slightest dreg of submissiveness. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed with thought.

The dignified purple toga edged in gold stretched across Brogda’s broad chest and bulging muscles as he considered the situation, and the prayer. “But I don’t think that we want to touch it. Not directly, at least. He’s declared war, but you know what it took last time. We need time to get ready.”

“But we are going to do something, right?” said Cáel, emphasizing his words with exaggerated gestures with his right hand. He would have used both hands, but his left was busy stroking the massive cock of the disciple perched on the other armrest of his throne. “This isn’t something we can just let go.

Brogda leaned back with a small, wicked smirk. “Correct. Which means that we’ll have to use someone who is, on the surface at least, not directly affiliated with us.” He rested his palms on the ends of the armrests of his throne. The disciple that had been worshipping his feet doubled his efforts as Brogda’s mighty cock stirred to life. The front of Brogda’s toga tented upward, parting around the rock-hard pillar that was his erection.

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