Book Name: Elemental Love
Release
Date: March 29, 2016
Blurb:
An untrained warlock is a dangerous man
to love.
On his twenty-first birthday, Evrain
Brookes discovers he is an elemental warlock. The spell suppressing his talent
lifts and he has to get used to a whole new existence. The protection that kept
him safe during his childhood is gone, his skills are wild and uncontrolled and
there are those that seek to use him for their own gain.
Evrain’s grandmother is a witch, his
godfather another warlock. Between them they do their best to keep Evrain on
the right path. He learns that in order to gain control of his formidable
powers, he will need to ‘channel’ through a life partner, a process that
happens only with consent and through love. But how will he ever find a man
prepared to put up with a Dominant warlock for a boyfriend?
Dominic Castine has no idea that
Evrain’s grandmother sees him as a prospective partner for Evrain. He tends her
garden and she teaches him about herbs—a trade-off they both enjoy. He is drawn
to Evrain’s charismatic presence but doesn’t understand why he wants to drop to
his knees and submit to him.
When Agatha is murdered, Evrain and
Dominic are thrown together as she manipulates them from beyond the grave.
Dominic becomes the pawn in a terrifying game between warlocks whose powers he
barely comprehends.
In the end, lives will depend on his
courage, his willingness to grant Evrain control and the power of love.
Reader Advisory: This book contains
scenes of kidnap and a reference to attempted sexual assault.
Pages or Words: 59,472 words
Categories: BDSM, Contemporary, Gay
Fiction, M/M Romance, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy
Excerpt:
Twenty-one
years ago…
“Closed
doors, I hate closed doors. Why don’t I have the power to see through them?
That, at least, would be a useful ability.” Three-hundred-year-old floorboards
creaked as Gregory Thanet paced the galleried landing of Wenlock House. He
walked up and down past three doors, each fashioned from heavy oak and
furnished with black iron hinges and handles. Two stood ajar, revealing hints
of unoccupied bedrooms, but the third was firmly closed, a solid barrier to
unwanted intrusion and the cause of Gregory’s current frustration.
“For
goodness’ sake, Gregory, you’re wearing out the carpet. Be still.” Gregory’s
companion leaned against the gallery rail and gave him an exasperated look.
Gregory
paused his march briefly, shot a glare at the woman but then resumed his pacing
with a grunt. “Leave me be, woman, I’ll be still when we know that everything
is as it should be.”
“Nature
moves at her own pace, you know that. There’s no changing it—nor should we.
What will be will be.”
“Stop
trying to sound like some wise and ancient soothsayer, Agatha. You’re not helping
and it doesn’t suit you. The kid is a week late already—you’d think he would be
keen to greet the world by now. When he’s grown I’ll remember that he kept me
up half the night. I’m sure I’ll get plenty of opportunities for revenge when
he’s older.” Gregory stopped and folded his arms across his chest.
“I
might not be able to see the future, Gregory Thanet, but even a complete idiot
could have predicted that my grandson would arrive today.”
Gregory
examined his companion. Agatha looked tired. Her skin was quite smooth, marred
only by a few laughter lines around her hazel eyes, eyes that still sparkled
with warmth and intelligence. Her silver hair was swept smoothly back and
fastened with a comb, intricately fashioned from beaten copper. She remained an
attractive woman, who must have possessed great beauty in her youth, but she
looked paler than usual and she rested her weight against the banister rather
than standing in her usual ramrod-straight stance.
Gregory
experienced a rare pang of guilt that he might be adding to his friend’s
worries. “All Hallows’ Eve. There’s a lot of power in the air right now.”
Agatha
cocked her head to one side and closed her eyes as if listening to sounds that
only she could hear. “My grandson will be with us soon and there is little that
you or I can do to change the course of his destiny.” For a moment, a worried
frown creased her forehead. “It is not certain that he will inherit the gift.”
Gregory
sighed. “In this, you deceive yourself, Agatha. The calling has skipped a generation.
History dictates that the next born will be unusually powerful and that power
will be magnified even further in a male child.”
“There
has been no warlock in my family line for over five hundred years, only
witches. Why are you so convinced that it will change now? We know of only
three others living, Gregory. You, Symeon Malus and Constantine De Vries. It
would be a chance in a billion.”
Gregory
scratched the tip of his long nose. “I should have bought a lottery ticket
then. All the portents point to it, the date alone… It is time. Time the
triangle became a square.”
“I’m
not sure Symeon Malus will ever be part of that square,” Agatha said. “I don’t
see him as the cornerstone of anything with value or integrity.”
“True,
and if the child is born with the power, you and I will need to ensure that
Symeon’s gaze remains elsewhere.” Gregory shivered. “I swear to the goddess,
this country is the dampest place on earth. It’s all right for you, Agatha, you
live in the second dampest place on the planet. You’re used to groping through
fog. I want to get back to Florida. I need to—before I develop trench foot.”
“Pah.
What you really want is to get back to Coryn. You’re a ship without an anchor
when the two of you are apart. He could have come to see the child too, you
know.” Agatha grabbed a stray hair and pushed it back into a restraining grip.
“Coryn
hates airplanes, you know that. I would never ask him to fly across the pond
unless it was a life or death situation.”
“If
it were, you wouldn’t have to ask him.”
“He
reckons that if men were designed to fly through the air, then human cannonball
would be a much more popular career choice.”
Agatha
snorted. “I think his phobia is a myth. He just uses it as an excuse to get a
few days’ break from your—” She whistled and twiddled her fingers in the air.
Gregory
rolled his eyes. “Twiddling your fingers that way will get you turned into an
aardvark. It takes practice to bend your digits into shapes imbued with power.
After thirty-two years together, Coryn is more than capable of dealing with
my—” He whistled. “As you so delicately put it.”
Agatha
snorted. “Men with magic! Whoever the hell thought that would be a good idea
was seriously damaged.” She shook her head slowly.
Gregory
grinned and waggled a silver eyebrow.
The
mewling cry of a newborn sounded from behind the closed bedroom door, and
Agatha allowed her lips to curve into a smile.
“Well,
it seems the waiting is over. I have a grandchild—and, from the sound of that
bellowing, he’s a fine, healthy boy.”
“About
damned time.” Gregory grouched. He still smiled right along with Agatha.
Agatha
crossed the landing and knocked softly on the door, which soon swung open to
admit her. Gregory followed her inside, pushing down his excitement.
The
bedroom was bathed in the cool light of a new dawn. The soft green of the walls
seemed to shimmer and the wooden floor was burnished with gold. Gregory looked
around in wonder, then dragged his gaze back to the bed.
“Lyssa,
James—congratulations, my dears!” Agatha clapped her hands together in delight
as she walked over to the bed.
Gregory
hung back a little, giving her the privilege of first viewing.
Agatha’s
daughter, Lyssa, sat up in bed propped against a mound of pillows. She was
pale, her eyes shadowed in the purple of exhaustion, but still she glowed with
radiant happiness. A small bundle wrapped in a pale blue blanket rested in her
arms. Her husband, James, sat nervously on the edge of the mattress, looking
utterly shell-shocked but delighted as the midwife fussed around them.
Lyssa
held the baby out to her mother with a smile. “His name is Evrain. Evrain James
Brookes. Hold him, Mum, isn’t he beautiful?”
Gregory
held his breath as Agatha reached for the small bundle and cradled the child in
her arms. She pushed the blanket back from the baby’s head, and a mop of thick
black hair was revealed, sticking out in all directions.
“He
is absolutely gorgeous, darling. Didn’t you both do well!” Agatha stroked the
child’s hair.
Gregory
moved in closer. Tiny fists punched at the air, so Gregory offered the boy his
own hand. Immediately, the baby grabbed hold, wrapping his fingers around
Gregory’s offering with surprising strength. Gregory grinned at Agatha in
delight, then looked back to the baby. His eyes were the dark blue of every
newborn but, as Gregory focused his senses on the child, he could see that they
would become dark green. Just a shade deeper than his own.
Cooing
softly, Agatha muttered a lilting incantation and rocked the baby gently. To
Lyssa and James, the song probably sounded like a lullaby, but Gregory knew a
spell when he heard one. Tiny eyelids closed and the baby slept. Gregory’s
finger was released. After a few more minutes of cuddling, Agatha reluctantly
returned the baby to his parents.
Buy the book:
Meet the author:
L M lives in a small village in the English countryside,
surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time
between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She's fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.
Where to find the
author:
Goodreads
Link: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6623749.L_M_Somerton
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Cover
Artist: Emmy Ellis
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