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Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Fantasy
Description: He of the earth and water; she of the light and sky above; he of the night and feral underland. Three united through destiny, throughout eternity. Should their line perish, all shall be lost...

Abigail Pembroke, a freelance photographer, ran from Rapture Bay because she loved too much. Now she's come home to bury her dead, and perhaps finally accept her destiny. Will it be love or simply duty that forces her to stay?

Lash MacKenzie, mayor of Rapture Bay, and so much more, attuned and bred to duty, needs Abby more than she could ever imagine. He's waited patiently these last two years for his beautiful lover to find her way home.

Taggart Este, sheriff of Rapture Bay, coyote shifter, trickster and rebel, and Lash's eager male lover is trying to solve a string of murders that someone, or something, wants to look like accidents. One of those dead is Abby's grandmother, an elder, a Harmonic Euphonical--a protector of Rapture Bay. Abby's return home will change everything, including Tag's exclusive relationship with Lash.

Three lovers born to inherit a time-honored power that stems from the roots of the elemental founders of Rapture Bay--it's a heritage of service that weighs heavily upon their shoulders, and it could destroy them. To serve and protect, to honor and heal, to love with a passion and commitment, may demand their very lives unless they learn to trust not only each other, but themselves, and embrace their destiny...

Genres: Fantasy / Shapeshifter / Witchcraft / Magic / Mystery / BDSM (Light) / Ménage (M/M/F & M/F/M) / Group Sex / Bisexual (M/M) Content / Voyeurism / Exhibitionism / Public Places
eBook Publisher: Amber Quill Press, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: February 2011

1 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [106 KB]
Words: 22553
Reading time: 64-90 min.

"...Combines many elements including magic and mystery into a story that is a true erotic page-turner."--Jo, Joyfully Reviewed

CHAPTER 1

"She's the third one," Sheriff Taggart Este said as he squatted down to catch an identifiable scent, his coyote shifter instincts fully engaged. It was there, just like with the others, but subtle and slightly elusive.

He straightened and looked down at Myra Fontaine. Fontaine was her family name, an old well-respected name in this town, carried down from the generations of Rapture Bay founders. Her married name was Jensen, married to Colby, deceased these last five years.

Tag tried to focus on the job at hand--discovering exactly what had happened. But it was hard not to get personal. Myra had been his harmonium coach, teaching him the undulating vibrations necessary in order to take his place as one of the ancient and respected Rapture Bay Harmonies who protected the district. It saddened him to see her like this.

Myra lay sprawled on her bed in her faded yellow-flowered nightdress, blood spattered, her lifeless fingers wrapped around the barrel of a pistol. It didn't make sense. He looked around the room seeking something out of place; something that didn't quite fit. Beyond the gun, of course. Then he turned back to his fresh-faced human deputy, Jack Cooper, who looked like he was about to give it up.

"You call Joe Bodene?" Taggart asked.

Jack nodded and then gulped. His complexion pale as the blood-spattered white sheet that covered Myra. "Yes, sir. He's on his way. He had to close up shop first."

Multi-tasking again. Joe was the county coroner cum local semi-retired general practitioner, cum co-owner of the local hardware store. Small towns like Rapture Bay meant elected officials who wore more than one hat. Patience was a necessary asset. Tag wasn't certain if he'd call it a virtue exactly.

Taggart had lived in Rapture Bay all his life--his florid family history went back a ways--mostly from the other side of the proverbial railroad tracks. Not quite as far back as the Pembrokes and MacKenzies and the Fontaines, but far enough and with even a darker heritage than many. It's one of the reasons Myra had approached him when she'd borne no children of her own to carry on in her place. Rumor had it that Myra's father, Lourd Fontaine, liked to play around and that Mae Johnson, Tag's own maternal grandmother had been his lover. That was back in the twenties when flappers were all the rage, moonshine the drink of choice, and Mae Johnson was one of the prettiest girls in town albeit not one with the best reputation. Some said Grandma Mae's husband had been a cuckold and that Tag's mother was actually Lourd Fontaine's daughter. But nobody pushed to ascertain the actuality. Tag having a coyote shape-shifter father was bad enough. Gossip sure was a fine thing in a small town.

"All right then." He looked back at Myra's inert corpse, her blank, staring eyes, the daisy patterned flannel nightdress stained with her blood. Then he studied the full bottle of sleeping pills on her nightstand. He turned to the gun clutched in her lifeless hand. It was a Browning 9mm--old--might have been her husband's. But the action on that particular pistol was known for being rough. Myra was in her eighties. It didn't feel right for her to choose that way of going out over the much easier method of sleeping pills sitting right next to her. Nope, didn't make sense at all.

But then stuff had been wrong with the last two deaths. They'd been made to look like accidents. First there was Lash's grandfather, Gordon MacKenzie, who fell off that scaffolding when he was inspecting the renovations to the main building at the college. Then just last week, Lucinda Pembroke died when the brakes on her car gave out and it went over a cliff into the bay. And now Myra Lawson. All three of the elder triad harmonies now dead. He could already feel the fragile euphenicum barrier that protected Rapture Bay from disaster begin to tear, leaking in some dangerous vibrations that even he could feel.