Under My Bed
Click on image to enlarge.
by T. A. Chase
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: Tabor Augustus has been haunted by ghosts living in a box under his bed. He's tried everything he can think of to get rid of them, even leaving the box behind when he left for college, yet somehow, it always returns to him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the ghosts just floated around and moved things, but they don't. Tabor's ghosts drain him of energy any time they want, and they're possessive of him.
On All Hallows' Eve, Gautier Molyneux, a former priest, arrives on Tabor's doorstep, tells him he knows what's happening, and offers assistance. Tabor's not inclined to trust Gautier, no matter how gorgeous he is. Yet after spending the night in Gautier's arms, Tabor's willing to take any help he can get. He's ready to live his life instead of merely being an energy supply to the ghosts.
Who knew love could give Tabor courage?
Genres: Gay / Paranormal / Ghosts / Hauntings
eBook Publisher: Amber Quill Press, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: January 2012
6 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [119 KB]
Reading time: 78-110 min.
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
I stop writing and pop another handful of candy corn in my mouth. It's a dark and stormy evening. No, really it is. A cold front roared in from the north and it's been raining for most of the day. Just as I notice the lack of wind, a knock on my front door nearly sends me off my bed and into the closet. I haven't been in the closet since I graduated high school. I've no interest in going back in.
"Who'd be out in a night like this?" I mutter as I shove my feet into my Bugs Bunny slippers and trudge down the hall to the front door.
Probably some trick-or-treaters totally ignoring the fact I don't have my porch light on. There is no way I'm sharing my candy with the bratty neighborhood kids. My hand pauses at the light switch. Christ! Twenty-five and I'm already a curmudgeon. I flip the light on and yank open the door. Whatever I mean to say disappears from my mind as I catch sight of the man standing on my front porch.
Holy honeysuckle, Batman! An angel stands there, soaked and shivering, but trust me when I tell you he is beautiful. Though with my luck, he isn't one of the heavenly angels. He looks like I've always imagined one of the fallen types does. With blue-tinged lips and dripping blond hair, he looks like a five-mile stretch of bad road covered in mud and potholes, yet his underlying hotness shines through.
"Can I come in?" His teeth chatter, and I blink.
It's the nice thing to do and I know for a fact my neighbors aren't home, so I can't even send him to them. With barely disguised annoyance, I step back and gesture for him to step in.
He flows into the front entryway like he owns the place, and somehow his confidence puts me more on edge. I never liked men who ooze arrogance and belonging from every pore. How could he manage it looking like a drowned rat?