© Christie Gordon www.christiegordon.com
All rights reserved, eXtasy Books
Adam Ross doesn’t believe in demons. After a house fire killed his family at the tender age of twelve, he’s not even sure he believes in God. But that is about to change. Under the light of the full moon, in 1930, rum-runners wash ashore dead on the Northern California coast amidst carnage, slashed and drained of blood. Rumors and local Indian lore tell of the existence of creatures out at sea, demons. Among a second rash of dead bootleggers, Adam finds Necalli, a stunning young man with strange physical anomalies and amnesia, who arouses him beyond belief. Adam becomes determined to help Necalli and solve the mystery lurking in his broken memories. Will he fall under Necalli’s spell and save himself in the process?
Available from August 1, 2009 at www.extasybooks.com
Heat pressed against Adam’s cheek. His eyes fluttered open to an exotic set of light-brown eyes with flecks of gold gazing back at him. “Whoa.” Startling, he clamored to crawl up against the back of the couch, tilting his body up at an angle. The eyes, framed by long, black hair, followed him. “Ah, so you’re awake?”
Sitting on his legs on the floor, the young man continued to study him as if fascinated by everything about him. His hand came up to rest over Adam’s.
He flinched and yanked his hand away. His breath quickened from the contact and his morning erection felt hot.
As if on cue, the young man’s gaze roamed Adam’s chest and rested on his groin.
Feeling self-conscious, he draped his arm over his hips in an attempt to cover himself.
The young man leaned forward. Reaching up with a quizzical gaze, he ran a clawed finger down Adam’s cheek.
The touch tingled all the way down into his groin. Why is he touching me like this? And how was it his mere presence aroused him? He melted further into the couch. “Um, do you understand English? Do you speak?”
The young man focused his attention on the hand covering Adam’s groin. Reaching over, he took it, absently brushing Adam’s erection through his trousers.
He gasped, closing his eyes for a second. His hips moved forward ever so slightly with the contact.
The young man pulled Adam’s hand toward him and inspected it. His delicate thumb arced across the top, giving it a light caress. His fingers probed underneath. He held up his other hand, fingers splayed, and examined it as if comparing the two.
An abrupt tug on Adam’s hand made him jerk forward to mere inches in front of the young man’s face. He became mesmerized, lost, in the beautiful eyes. The shape was like the Chinamen he saw in San Francisco, but not as pronounced. Not quite Indian either.
Lifting himself up on his knees, the young man reached his free hand out and cupped Adam’s chin, pushing a thumb into his lower lip. He ran the thumb along the thick flesh of Adam’s lip, moving it gently to the side, before releasing it.
“Ah…” Adam whispered, despite himself.
“Your breath and pulse quicken when I touch you.”
The young man’s voice was soft and smooth, but much lower than Adam expected. It held a soft accent he couldn’t place. “What? No it doesn’t.” Snapping back to reality, he yanked his hand away from him.
The young man grinned, showing long eyeteeth. “I excite you.”
He scoffed, but his face flushed in embarrassment. “You don’t. It’s just normal, that’s all. All guys our age get a morning woody.”
Clear confusion swept over the young man’s face. “A morning woody? What is that?”
“Never mind.” He shoved himself up and climbed to the edge of the couch. That’s enough inspection. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned..
The young man watched his every move with wide eyes.
“So what’s your name anyway? And who are you?”
The young man looked down at the couch cushion for a moment. “My name is . . . I think it is.” He put a clawed hand to his forehead. “It’s, Necalli, I think.” Dropping his hand, he gazed back up at Adam. “Yes, Necalli.”
He leaned toward him. He may have been hurt more than he’d let on up to this point. “You okay? Do you remember anything from last night?”
Necalli gave a slow shake of his head. “Um, no.” He looked into his eyes. “Why are you so different? Why are your hands so strange?”
“My hands? You’re the one with strange hands.” He gestured to Necalli’s mouth. “And your teeth are a little funny, too.”
Reaching up, Necalli fingered his teeth.
He let out an easy chuckle. “What, did you come from another planet or something? What have they been feeding you over on the reservation?”
Hurt spread across the features of Necalli’s face and he sat back, lowering his head and hiding his hands under his thighs. He whispered, “You’re beautiful.”
His heart fluttered with Necalli’s comment, but he ignored it. This kid must have had a hard bump to the head.. Leaning forward, he reached his arm out and touched Necalli’s shoulder.
Necalli flinched and drew away.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean nothing by it. I like Indians, actually. I think your whole culture is sort of interesting.”
Necalli kept his head lowered, his voice soft. “I’m not an Indian.”
“Well, what are you then?”
“I, I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Necalli’s gaze drew slowly up to Adam’s face while he kept his hands hidden.
He smirked. “Well, if you don’t remember, how do you know you’re not Indian?” That was a stupid thing to say, Adam. Don’t need to rub it in.
“I know. I’m not.” Necalli furrowed his brow as if trying desperately to remember.
“Well, I’ll bet your parents will be looking for you.” He stood from the couch and looked down on the young man.
“No, I don’t have parents.” Necalli’s gaze ran from Adam’s feet up to his face.
Immediate compassion raced through him. This young man was like him, orphaned.. “No parents? You’re a little too young to be on your own. Who are you living with?” He raked a hand through his hair. Had the rum-runners taken advantage of his situation?
“No, I’m not young.. I’m very old actually.” His gaze slowly swept the room as if taking it all in.
He let out a soft chuckle. “What do you mean, you’re not young. You couldn’t be older than eighteen. Much too young to be hanging around with them rum-runners I found you with.”
In one quick and graceful movement, Necalli darted up to standing. “I’m not eighteen.”
He startled. “Jesus. How’d you do that?”
“What?” Necalli tilted his head to look up into his eyes.
“Stand so quickly. You must be pretty athletic. Too bad you’re so short. You’d never play basketball.” He let out a nervous laugh. Necalli must be around five-foot-three, since he was five-ten. This young man puzzled him. “Um, if you’re over eighteen, how old are you?”
“I don’t know. Just old, much older than eighteen.” Bewilderment filtered through his features. “I can’t remember.”
He sighed. Could he believe anything Necalli told him? “So you can’t remember anything, but you’re sure you’re not an Indian, you don’t have parents and you’re much older than eighteen.”
Necalli took a step closer to him, so close their chests almost touched. His inquisitive eyes roamed Adam’s face. “Yes.”
He flushed and stepped backward, not wanting to re-ignite his awkward feelings toward him. “Uh, d-do you remember what you were doing with the rum-runners?”
“Your heart beat has gotten faster.” Necalli stepped close to him again, maintaining eye contact.
Walking backward and turning around, he struggled to steady himself. “I’ll take that as a no.” This young man unnerved him, made him think about things he shouldn’t. He strode over to the kitchen area before facing him again. He looked over the white tiles on his kitchen counter for a moment and returned his attentions to Necalli. “Hey, you hungry?”
Necalli nodded his head.
He gestured to the table. “Well, have a seat and I’ll make some breakfast.” He busied himself with making a pot of coffee and pulling out eggs and bread. He thought for a minute about Necalli’s predicament. “Hey, I heard that sometimes people who’ve lost their memory can get it back if they go to the place where they lost it or something like that. So how about we head over to the beach after breakfast and we’ll see if you remember anything?” He turned around to gauge Necalli’s reply.
Necalli sat at the table, his arms underneath its surface in his lap, eyes still studying him. “All right.”
He let a wide grin spread over his lips. “Uh, I’m Adam, by the way.”
On Sale Now:
A Summer Without Rain
© Copyright Christie Gordon: www.christiegordon.com
All rights reserved, eXtasy Books
In 1920’s Ireland, Shannon understands all too well that the love and hunger he feels for his best friend, Ciaran, is forbidden. He’s already shunned by his town and emotionally damaged from enduring painful confessions after a male teacher’s molestation at age fourteen. But when he finds Ciaran in a barn, grieving over the sudden death of his mother, a hasty and desperate embrace shatters an unspoken boundary between them. Then, Shannon and Ciaran are sent on a journey to Dublin to bring a family heirloom to Ciaran’s aunt. Along the way, a drunken evening leads to an illicit act in a hotel room, confusing Ciaran and forcing them both down a treacherous path of deceit and desire. Can love overcome the obstacles of Irish society, the Catholic Church, and political unrest?
Available at: Amazon
A Summer Without Rain received 5 Angels and a Recommended Read from Fallen Angels Reviews, 4 Nymphs from Literary Nymphs and 4 Cups from Coffee Time Romance!