Mis libros en español!

Estoy tan feliz de que algunos de mis libros estarán disponibles en español! Señora de Dos Lairds es el primero, ya disponible desde Ai Press y luego, en un futuro próximo, Su Hermosa Samurai (misterio, homoerótica). Sé que ha habido una falta de romances en lengua española y espero poder hacer tantos libros disponibles como sea posible en Ai Press. Aquí está la información sobre Señora de Dos Lairds. Muchas gracias! Sedonia
~~~~~
señoraLairdsLarge23Señora de Dos Lairds
Autor: Sedonia Guillone
Género: Menage a trois / histórico / Highlanders
Largo: Novela
eISBN: 978-1-937796-69-3
Precio: 5.49 USD

Calificación sensualidad: 4 llamas-Las historias tienen escenas de amor frecuentes que son explícitos y se describen utilizando el lenguaje gráfico y directo.

Compra e-book de: Ai Press|Amazon Kindle|AllRomance Ebooks

Arte de la cubierta: Les Byerley

Una mujer. Dos rudos y guapos highlanders. Ella los ama a los dos. Afortunadamente, ellos están dispuestos a compartirla…

Leda MacGregor ha albergado un amor secreto por el apuesto Laird Duncan desde que tenía dieciséis años. Cuando este la culpa de la muerte de su esposa, ella se vuelve hacia su hermano Ian para que este la consuele y encuentra que su corazón es capaz de amar a dos hombres.
Ian MacGregor sabe que su corazón pertenece a Leda, su amiga de la infancia. La desea con más fuerza que a cualquier otra mujer que ha conocido. Sin embargo, se debate entre el deseo de su corazón y el curso que su vida debe tomar. Cuando por fin es libre de amar a Leda, son separados por un cruel engaño.
Duncan MacGregor aprende cuan poderosa es fuerza del perdón de Leda y con el paso del tiempo, crece su amor y la desea de una manera que nunca creyó posible. Cuando su hermano le rompe el corazón, la toma para él. Entonces el destino trae a Ian de regreso, aún amando a Leda…
Una mujer. Dos rudos y guapos highlanders. Ella los ama a los dos. Afortunadamente, ellos están dispuestos a compartirla…

Excerpt:

La poderosa presencia de Duncan llenó la habitación. Lo sintió escabullirse tras de ella. Las manos fuertes del Laird se cerraron con suavidad pero con firmeza en sus caderas. El calor de sus manos quemaba por debajo del fino algodón de su camisa de dormir, presionando en su suave carne con fervor posesivo.

El momento había estado anhelando durante años había llegado.

“Phyllida.” El aliento de Duncan acarició un lado de su cuello, haciendo que sus párpados cerrados revolotearan. Se puso de espaldas contra él, deslizando sus manos por sus caderas, a través de la suave redondez, femenina de su vientre. Sus manos se posaron en su pecho, los dedos índices de cada mano rozaban peligrosamente cerca de la parte inferior de sus senos.
Leda se permitió descansar contra él. Se deleitó con la dura protección masculina de su cuerpo presionado su espalda. Duncan la hacía sentir tan segura y cálida. Sus ojos se abrieron cuando la dureza de su erección empujó en la hendidura entre sus nalgas. Su respiración profunda y poso sus manos sobre él, permitiendo que sus dedos exploraran el calor de piel, las venas, y su oscuro cabello rizado de sus fuertes manos. Su aliento, ahora ronco y desigual, latía en sus oídos, convirtiéndose en promesas eróticas. “Duncan, te he fallado. Lo siento mucho.” Ella comenzó a llorar.

“Calla ahora”, le dijo.

En silencio, miró por la ventana abierta a los árboles y al césped. A lo lejos, colinas verdes bajaban por el lago Garmond en los confines de la cañada.

“Mi hermosa Leda”, susurró Duncan. “Te perdono.” El tenor de su ronca voz, más potente que el mejor whisky, envió acaloradas emociones a través de sus pechos, y su corazón le dolía con la liberación de su culpabilidad. Su perdón fue más dulce, más curativo que un bálsamo. Poco a poco, tentativamente, deslizó su palma hacia arriba, por su pecho, a las suaves ondas de sus pechos…

Leda se sentó de golpe, su pecho jadeaba. Hundió la palma de su mano en la frente, recuperándose. Había tenido sueños similares sobre Duncan en los últimos cinco años, y siempre la sacudían. Pero ninguno tan intenso como este.

La húmeda brisa del verano, flotaba por la ventana abierta, levantando suavemente las cortinas de gasa blanca. El temprano rosa de la salida del sol se mostraba por encima de las distantes colinas.

Su sexo seguía pulsándole con la locura del sueño y sus pezones hormigueaban en contra de su camisón. Las sensaciones la llenaban de culpa. A causa de su incompetencia, Duncan había enterrado a su amada Caitlynn y a su hijo muerto el día de hoy, y ella, Phyllida, ni siquiera tenía la decencia de parar sus románticos deseos— no, su lujuria— para el miembro del clan que había amado en secreto durante años. Especialmente cuando fue por su culpa que Caitlynn murió.

Leda exhaló y volvió a caer sobre las almohadas, con el corazón encogido dolorosamente. Empuñó sus manos para que dejaran de temblar. Por enésima vez, repaso todas las posibilidades en su mente, viéndose a sí misma detener el flujo de sangre que había escurrido la vida de Caitlynn. Había empleado hasta la última gota de los conocimientos de partera y de enfermería que su madre le enseñó. Sin embargo, la horrible sensación que podía haber hecho más la atormentaba, como una piedra bajo su piel.

Acomodándose más profundamente en la cama, se quedó mirando la salida del sol. La finca ya se sentía más oscura y sombría, sin Caitlynn, la hermosa mujer que había traído la luz y la risa al sobrecargado laird, lleno de responsabilidades. Cait fue un fuerte contraste a su marido, quien llevaba el peso de sus responsabilidades con un aire pesado. Duncan sorprendió a todos los que conocía durante su corto matrimonio, porque él había pasado esos cinco años llenos de las risas que ahora había perdido.

Ahora Caitlynn se había ido, y Leda tendría que vivir el resto de sus días sabiendo que la había matado.

De repente, Leda recordó que Ian, el hermano menor de Duncan, estaría en casa esa mañana para el funeral. Ella e Ian tenían la misma edad y habían crecido casi toda su vida juntos. La idea de verlo, a su compañero de juegos infantiles y su mejor amigo, fue lo que la hizo sobreponerse y forzarse a sí misma a levantarse de las profundidades de su suave colchón. Calzó sus zapatillas y cruzó la habitación a su guardarropa. Abriendo bien las puertas, pensando en que ponerse. No era que tuviera mucha elección. Había preferido siempre el uniforme de todos los días que era una blusa, pantalón, suéter, y botas, a las faldas y vestidos.

A pesar de su tristeza, Leda sonrió espontáneamente ante los recuerdos que le vinieron a la mente. Caitlynn, que había sido la encarnación de la feminidad, había intentado una y mil veces, sin éxito, romper con su atuendo masculino. A pesar de que Leda se había sentido siempre como una boba junto a la esposa de Duncan, la ropa masculina la había protegido, manteniéndola invisibles a los ojos de los hombres, especialmente de Duncan. Si no la notaba, era mucho más fácil ignorar el hecho de que nunca podría devolver el cariño que guardaba a su tutor. Además, nadie podía montar a caballo, escalar montañas y árboles, y explorar las orillas de un lago en un vestido de té.

Audrey asomó la cabeza por la puerta. “¿Necesita una mano, Señorita Leda?”

Leda sonrió a la mujer, de mediana edad, y que si se preocupa de la condición social. Antes de que su padre se perdiera en el mar, en su barco de pesca, Leda había pasado los primeros años de su vida en una cabaña rústica en las Orkneys, y nunca había sido una criada. Nunca creció acostumbrada realmente a ser atendida. “No lo creo, Audrey. Gracias.”

Audrey frunció el ceño e irrumpió en el cuarto de todos modos. “Yo no le creo, Señorita.” En un soplo de faldas almidonadas, se dirigió a una cómoda y sacó un corsé y medias de color oscuro de un cajón.

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Sneak peek at the third in my samurai trilogy


(photo of an onnegata (male kabuki actor in female role) from weheartit.com)

As some of you know I have been working on A Samurai for Aoki the third in my samurai trilogy. (Previous books: Flying Fish and Blind Love. If you’ve read them, then you’ve met the beautiful kabuki actor Aoki who longs to find the samurai who will be his true love. Aoki is a wonderful character, kind and sweet and a good friend to those in his life. But he has not had good fortune in finding the man of his dreams, in spite of how lovable he is and how willing to love.

I realized it was time for Aoki to find his Happy Ever After. And it will come in what is, for him, a most unexpected place. He just has a lesson to learn first that he had no idea he needed to learn. But isn’t this the story of our own lives? Which is what, to me, makes this story universal even though it is set in feudal Japan between a young samurai, Toho, (whom we also first meet as a boy in Blind Love but who is now grown into a handsome young man,) and an onnegata (male kabuki actor who played female roles). I hope you enjoy the snippet I’m posting here. Please bear with me the long time it is taking me to finish the story. Since I also am a publisher, I don’t have as much time to write.) From my work in progress, A Samurai For Aoki (unedited. Final version may differ):

Toho dreamed again about Aoki. It was the same dream he always had. Aoki’s beautiful face with its delicate features smiling down at him. Warmth sparkled in Aoki’s eyes, a gaze full of love and sweetness, dark liquid pools in which Toho felt enveloped, wrapped in safety and unending compassion. Aoki’s long hair curled and flowed, tresses that gleamed like liquid ebony with sunlight glinting off of it. Toho smiled up at him, as Aoki himself were the warm sun, bathing him while he slept. He could feel the teasing brush of Aoki’s hair on his cheeks. Aoki held out his arms, inviting a protective embrace. Aoki’s embrace had always made him feel as if he’d be all right.

Only this time the dream changed. Aoki’s smile faded. Distress filled his pale complexion. Lines ringed his eyes and deepened across his smooth forehead. His reaching arms flailed and he began to fade, as if made of mist. Toho gasped and reached out to him, grasping desperately. He got handfuls of Aoki’s kimono but Aoki slipped from his grasp. The more Toho reached, the more Aoki faded. Until he was gone…

Toho fought for breath. His chest heaved. What he’d thought were Aoki’s sleeves in his tight fists was, in reality, his own bedding. He sat up. Sweat made his kimono cling to his torso and odd tingles coursed over his skin and through his thigh and calf muscles. While the ghostly whispers of the nightmare ebbed away, he raked a shaky hand through his hair. With a long breath he lay back and stared up at the ceiling. The faintest light of dawn stole through the window slats. The brazier had burnt out during the night, allowing hints of the crisp autumn air to cool his sweaty skin.

On the other side of the brazier, his fathers stirred on their futons. He listened, hoping he hadn’t woken them. They worked hard and needed their rest. He’d have been happy to stay in the one of the dojo’s sleeping rooms with his father’s students but neither Hirata nor Sho would allow that. They were fiercely protective.

Toho took another deep breath. Usually he awoke from his dream feeling refreshed, calm and happy. Not today. Something was wrong. Aoki was in trouble. Toho felt it in his bones. Guilt flashed through him as it did several times each. He’d not yet kept his promise to Aoki to return to him. Both his fathers had made him promise to wait until the first day of his eighteenth year. Well, that day was drawing close, but if his nightmare had any truth in it, then he couldn’t wait until then. Aoki might be in trouble…

A shadow loomed over Toho. In the next breath, Sho was kneeling beside him. His father could move as silently as a cat or a ninja.

“Toho, are you unwell?” Sho, who’d been trained in the arts of acupuncture and herbal healing as well as massage, picked up Toho’s wrist. Immediately, Sho’s fingertips pressed into his pulses.

“I’m fine, Father. Just a bad dream.”

Sho nodded and continued his careful listening. When Toho was a child whose parents had been brutally slain before his very eyes, Sho was the one person in whom he’d been able to take refuge. He couldn’t expect Sho simply to give up his protective ways and let go simply because Toho was now a grown man. And yet, he had never quite gotten used to Sho’s razor-sharp perception. There was no keeping any secrets from his father. He listened another moment to Toho’s pulses and then set his hand down. “You dreamed about Aoki-san again?”

Toho sighed. “Yes. But this one was different. It wasn’t good. Something was—“

“Toho, are you all right?” Hirata came over and knelt beside Sho. His dark gaze fell on Toho. Hirata too, fussed over him too much sometimes, but after what Hirata had recently revealed to Toho about his own past, Toho could easily forgive him his over-protectiveness.

“Toho had a nightmare. About Aoki-san.”

Toho sat up. “In my dream nothing really happened but Aoki-san looked so troubled, so frightened. That’s never happened before. Maybe he needs me to go to him. I did promise I would return to him. And…” Toho hesitated before finishing. “I’ve missed him so badly.” When he looked up, both his fathers brows were furrowed, as if Sho and Hirata knew at once what he would say next. “Please, let me go to him. Let me keep my promise.”
Sho and Hirata were both silent. Toho felt their tension in the very air and his heart sped up. “We’ll go with you,” Sho said.

Toho felt a wave of shame, something he hadn’t expected. For some reason, he’d always assumed that when he returned to Aoki, he would do so as a proud samurai, not the damaged peasant boy he’d been when he and Aoki had parted. How could he do that with his two father, both accomplished swordsmen, surrounding him? “But, Father, how can I ever prove myself to you if you are always protecting me?”

Finally Sho cleared his throat. “You expected to make this journey alone? If it’s about keeping your promise to Aoki then what does it matter if we’re with you?”

“And since when would you need to prove yourself to either of us, Toho?” Hirata said. “You’re our precious son.”

Toho bowed his head again. The cool air in the room had dried his sweat and he pulled his kimono tighter, squaring his shoulders. “I want Aoki to…be proud of me.”

“I have no doubt Aoki would be proud of you if you showed yourself with us beside you,” Sho said. “Just to set eyes on you again and see what a fine young man you’ve grown to be would fill him with joy.”

Toho felt his back muscles clench. Both his fathers had proven their strength and merit as swordsmen and as human beings. Why did they insist on depriving him of his chance? “But Aoki adores samurai. Even as a child I noticed his preference, we spent so much time together.” Toho even remembered the little alcove at the entrance of Aoki’s home, across from the tokonoma, the altar that held the statue of the Buddha, where a weapons rack provided storage for the weapons of samurai who came to call on Aoki. Samurai loved kabuki actors, especially Aoki, who was exceptionally beautiful and graceful.

“Aoki loved you before you were ever a samurai,” Sho said, his voice tight. “Before Hirata ever adopted you, you were Aoki’s special boy.”

“Sho-chan,” Hirata said, his hand on his partner’s shoulder, “In all fairness to Toho, I do understand what he’s saying. I can understand how Toho would wish to prove himself. After such a prolonged absence, he’s worried that Aoki will hold him to a new standard.”

The furrow in Sho’s brow deepened. “And what indications has Aoki given in his letters of such a change in attitude? Every time he’s corresponded with us he sends only love and well wishes and hope we’ll all see each other again before too long.”

Toho looked down. He had no answer. Sho was right, of course. Aoki had never expressed anything to him except complete love and acceptance. It was himself who’d changed. As he grew older and his body became a man’s body, he’d noticed the change in his thinking and feeling. He was no longer that little boy Aoki had loved and helped to heal. That’s the person Aoki loved. The beautiful graceful man he looked up to as a motherly big sister had never met Toho the samurai.

“Toho.” Sho broke the silence. “Please, understand my position. No matter how old you are, how skilled you are, you’re my little boy. I’m not a samurai. I don’t think as a samurai. You don’t prove your worth as a human being by living the laws of Bushido.” Sho sighed, his brow deeply furrowed. “You’re asking me to let go. To let you go…to let you…grow up.”

His father’s words moved Toho to rise and go over to him. He knelt down by Sho who immediately covered Toho’s hands with his. “I’m sorry, Father.”

Sho pulled him into an embrace. The bond between them had formed the moment Sho had first come to treat Toho. In the wake of Toho’s parents’ murders, Toho had lain on a mat in his uncle’s tiny hut, staring up at the ceiling, paralyzed by the trauma of what he’d witnessed. Sho had been the first person he’d looked at, spoken to, trusted when he’d come back to life. He knew that Sho would keep him by his side the rest of their days if he could. When Sho finally ended the embrace he sighed again. “All right. But I expect you to post a message to me every few days, to let me know what’s happening and that you’re all right. Promise me.”

“I promise, Father. Thank you.”

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My first fan art!

A couple of weeks ago, a reader posted on my Facebook that she was reading His Beautiful Samurai and really loving it. Of course, such praise is part of the lifeblood of an author – knowing that your heartfelt work is touching another life is really a blessing! But then she told me she wanted to draw the characters, Toshi and John. I was really flattered and excited that she felt so moved. My first fan art ever! So over the next few weeks, drawing emerged from under her pen.

I love them! They are sweet and inspired, from the heart.

My favorite is this one of Toshi with the everpresent cigarette dangling from his lips. I’ve only written a couple of characters who smoke cigarettes and Toshi is one of them. :)

I so wish I could draw because I would love to draw my characters and bring to life the people who are in my mind. I will have to settle for doing it in writing but I am so thrilled that there are people who have the talent and ability to visualize the characters and bring out their images on paper. Thank you, Miss Kelsey for taking the time and love to draw John and Toshi!

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D.L. Warner on Writing Great – Yaoi – Sex

We authors who write M/M know that writing love scenes takes time and care to craft, to make incorporate the emotions with the physical acts so that the developing eroticism between the two MCs doesn’t feel forced or just inserted into the story for the sake of adding sex. I’m very happy to have author D.L. Warner today with a tutorial on writing m/m erotic scenes, a juicy instructional excerpt and links to other yummy examples. Her main rule of thumb is to “keep it real.”

Post begins here:

A few weeks ago, I got into a discussion about writing sex scenes with a new author who found them difficult and embarrassing. She thought that readers would believe she had done the things her characters did. Every time she’d get into a groove, the thought of family or friends reading it would make her freeze, stifling her creativity. I’m not sure if I can help with that feeling. I am often mortified when I hear that my mother-in-law has been reading my erotica. I mean, who wouldn’t be shaken up? I can’t help an author with qualms over who may be reading his or her works. At some point, an author needs to own the work and be proud of all that effort and time and tears.

Keep It Real

As for writing sex scenes? I could say wing it. There seem to be no wrong ways in yaoi even if they defy the physical facts of male anatomy or physics and gravity, in some cases. It’s clear that even some of the best writers out there don’t know a lot about gay sex. One of the first mangaka we localized admitted that her agent had purchased gay porn for her to watch to improver her accuracy. She’s very well known, and this is still a problem. I think getting the sex right is worth the effort. Mechanics are easy to research. Without spending any money, you can find quality porn that will give you the basics. Do not look at anime or manga yaoi for instructions on actual sex. Too many of them get it wrong (I mean the physical mechanics are just plain wrong) to use as an example of how to write your own scenes. However, to really write how characters feel during sex, it really helps to have had great sex. I’m not saying that having had great sex is essential in writing great sex scenes, but it really, really helps.

For me, sex is a way to reveal a character – no pun intended. How they make love tells a lot about who they are. Sex between the characters is just another way of communicating. It’s really jarring to have a character take a 180 from his normal personality when he is in a sex scene. A playful Seme becoming a hyper-violent bully in bed rings false and can be a complete turn off. Likewise, the uber macho Seme who inexplicably gets lovey-dovey cutsy during sex is really off putting as well. Using the personalities seen outside of the bedroom actually makes writing the scenes in the bedroom easier. Creating a whole new persona for a character is not easy. I’ll give you some examples of how I write and then a few suggestions for films and anime to watch that have terrific character driven sex scenes.


The Dominant/submissive or Seme/uke Relationship

As I have said many times before, there is more to this relationship that physical restraints or violence. My biggest baddest dominant or Seme, Darius Galatea, begins seducing his gorgeous and willful uke, Andreas Hesper, the first time he touches him. Darius is the most powerful man in a planetary system. Aside from that he is extremely hot and sensually compelling. His regard can be so intense that he cannot work with anyone on his staff that is attracted to males. There have been too many misunderstandings and broken hearts and obsessive stalkers. The arrogance in Darius is fully justified. Yet he takes nothing for granted when he really wants something or someone. Andreas Hesper has relatively little power compared to Darius. However, he is powerful in his own world. He knows instinctively if someone means him physical harm and knows how to protect himself. Andreas is also incredibly beautiful and sensual and full of mischief. Those qualities catch Darius’ interest and complete attention. Just as he would in a complex business deal, Darius immediately began calculating the way he would pursue Andreas. He wants to addict Andreas to having sex with him. He wants him to willingly give himself completely for an indefinite amount of time. This entire plan begins with a dance in Ensnared Volume One .

The decision was made in a split second. Before Mykos could offer a course of action, Darius was on his feet. A second later, he was pulling Andreas into his arms. In one smooth movement, Darius entwined his long, elegant fingers with Andreas’ then pulled his left arm behind his back to bring him close. The other hand firmly held the right hand to guide the dance. Andreas was stunned for a few seconds, but soon he was moving in a sensual counter rhythm. Andreas relaxed in his grasp then met his gaze. Darius was impressed, and not just because of the way Andreas felt in his arms. They fit well and moved very well together – almost like they had danced that way before. What Darius admired was the attitude he was getting from Andreas. The challenge was there, but there was also curiosity in those incredible green-gold eyes. He met Darius’ eyes without fear, yet there was fascination and appreciation there as well.
Andreas Hesper was not fawning over Darius. He was subtly fighting, him all to the beat of the music. Every 8th beat, he tried to pull back and get some distance from the Cosi’s body. No one watching them knew just how hard Andreas fought against being overwhelmed. He was very graceful and very subtle in his movements. Darius was just as graceful and subtle pulling Andreas back pressing him close without grinding against him. Though he knew that his face remained impassive, Darius felt a spark of lust from holding Andreas that he hadn’t felt in some time – if ever. He had to fight a nearly overwhelming urge to grab him by his hair and kiss Andreas long and hard. He wanted to weaken him to the point where he’d be willing to give his body for thorough use until he could come no more. Yes, that was deeply appealing and completely impractical.
Instead, Darius dipped his head to one side to scent Andreas just behind his ear. He smelled of warm spices. With that honey colored skin, Darius was certain that he tasted delicious. The Crew Leader inhaled sharply then leaned into the hold Darius had on him. The Cosi looked Andreas in the eyes once more. What he saw almost ended his fragile resolve. The fight was still there but this time his eyes were dilated and a little dreamy. This time, when he tried to pull away, Darius was certain that Andreas was fighting himself. Darius wondered what he would try next to escape.
“I’m Andreas Hesper, Lord Galatea,” he said. Darius found he liked that deep, rich voice a little desperate.
“I know that now,” Darius replied mildly. “It’s unfortunate that I’ve never dealt with you personally. That may have to change.”
Andreas swallowed hard just as the song ended. Darius released him with clear reluctance.
“Thank you, Lord,” Andrea said softly.
Darius wasn’t sure if he was thanking him for the dance or for releasing him. He returned to his table heedless of the gaping eyes upon him.

When circumstances force Andreas to seek protection from Darius, words are used to seduce him into complete surrender.

Andreas leaned heavily on the wall and stared absently out the window. Though his mind was still racing, his body felt like it was made of lead. He didn’t even notice that Darius had returned until the Cosi was looming over him. In that weakened state, Andreas found the man’s presence overwhelming.
“Darius…what…what will you have of me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to be…naked for this whole time I am with you?”
“Ah, yes….always naked…always ready to receive me,” he murmured with a ghost of a smile playing on his face.
“Yeah,” Andreas managed with a hard swallow.
“Do you want to be always naked and ready for me?” He asked huskily.
Andreas felt his face flush. It was in his head to say hell no, but his brain couldn’t make his mouth say the words as he looked up into the Cosi’s hot blue gaze. What was happening to him?
Darius gently took Andreas by the chin once again and gently tilted his head up.
“We will share a great deal of pleasure, sweet Dami,” Darius said. “I know you have a profoundly sensual nature. I am not willing to share that nature or your beauty with anyone. You are not permitted to be unclothed for anyone save me. Nor is anyone else to touch you.”
Andreas was deeply relieved.
“The morning has caught up with you,” Darius observed. “You probably didn’t sleep well the night before.”
“No. Not really.”
“Go find the Master Suite, and lie down,” he said. His voice was gentle.
“But…don’t you want….aren’t I supposed to…”
“I will have you until you can’t come anymore,” Darius promised. His voice became sultry. “Have you ever been wrung dry, Andreas? Have you ever begged to stop coming?”
Andreas felt his knees weaken as his mouth went dry. He shook his head and waited for the kiss and the crush of that hard body against his.
“I want you awake enough to enjoy all the torment you’ve courted,” Darius murmured as he ran his thumb along Andreas’ lower lip. “Take your rest. You’ll wake when you’re hungry.”

Once in the bedroom, long before pinning Andreas down or shackling him to the headboard, there is the kiss. Darius uses kissing to weaken knees and drain resistance. By the time he gets around to using a restraint, Darius has taken the fight out of Andreas. That uke is willing to give Darius anything. He doesn’t even have to demand. Meanwhile, Andreas wants to caress Darius as he is being caressed, but he rarely has the presence of mind to do anything but moan and come really hard. Andreas doesn’t really mind any of this despite the power he possessed outside of his Seme’s penthouse. In fact, the more Andreas gives in to his Seme, the more he wants to yield. In the latest short story, Enthralled (available for free in YGG Magaizine Issue 1), Darius finds out just how far his uke is willing to go to submit to him. But beyond being dominant and arrogant, the same humor and tenderness that comes out in their conversations comes out in their lovemaking. Andreas is playful when he isn’t coming really hard. Darius is exasperating. They laugh often in bed.

In short, make sure that you get some good examples of actual sex. If possible, have great sex yourself. Finally, make sure the characters are the same inside the bedroom as outside. Also, don’t worry about people thinking bad things about you for writing erotica. Such critics will find a reason to be haters no matter what you write, so write what you enjoy!

For love scenes that fit the criteria described in the blog, I recommend Judas Kiss featuring hot man on man

action with some sci-fi elements.View free here:  http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi1876468505/ And for character sexiness on the run there is Desperado http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0112851/?ref_=nv_sr_1 I think that the best anime I’ve seen for in character sex that looks accurate (especially the last sex scene) is Ikoku Irokoi Romantan http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL47F1A8E36AF6C8F2.

Have fun writing, and please share your results on the Yaoi a GoGo Facebook page. We may put you in YGG Magazine!

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YGG Magazine cover time! Whee!

You can imagine my absolute ecstasy when Yaoi A GoGo (YGG) Magazine approached me to have Ai Press featured in their main article for the next issue! Moreover, our book covers would be pasted all over the front cover of this premier magazine for fans of the yaoi genre of M/M romance.

So I just wanted to share the excitement, which got even better. I didn’t know that Soy Sauce Face (one of the personal faves I’ve written, also got an incredibly beautiful review. The reviewr gave it basically a 5/5 stars and she said if she could, she would give the sex scene 8/5. I am floating, needless to say.

There are other cool things in this issue. It features Ai Press (of course that’s me), Ahn! Con, great fiction by upcoming authors and Gorgeous Cosplay Master, Alfred Xiaolay!

I have to admit I really didn’t know anything about cosplay until recently. I’d heard of it but I didn’t know that there are people who really can make themselves look exactly like the characters in our favorite mangas. Truly amazing!

Oh before I forget! To celebrate this wonderful happening, there is a 30% off sale ALL titles at Ai Press. Coupon code is YGG at checkout.

Anyway, thank you so much for letting me share. I hope you will check out the article and the magazine and maybe

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Guest super model Darell Ferhostan!

I’m so excited and honored to feature the elegantly beautiful Darell Ferhostan on my blog today! I first stumbled across some of Darell’s modeling photos on another blog and was immediately transfixed. As you know, we romance authors are always hoping to find real life people who fit the beauty, grace and intelligence of the characters we write and he absolutely does that! I recently worked up the courage to approach Darell and ask if he would be a guest on my blog. To my joy he said yes. :) Darell has appeared in Elle and Rolling Stone magazines and has recently graced the runways of Elle and Vogue fashion weeks in Bangkok. I know he is so busy so I only asked a few questions that would let us get to know him a little bit.
Some basic facts about Darell:
age: 21
where from: Indonesia
favorite foods : grilled tuna or salmon

Sedonia: Could you please share with us how the path of your life led you to modeling?
Darell: A stylist found me on Facebook and asked me to do a test shoot. After that he sent my photos to an agency and i got a contract with them.

Sedonia: If you were to write your autobiography, what would be the wisdom you would want to impart to anyone who read it about your experiences?
Darell: Everyone is different. Don’t try to be someone else because you are special. There is something that we can’t do like others can do, but there is something for sure we can do that others can’t do. Believe in yourself first, and others will believe in you.

Sedonia: What do you enjoy doing when you’re not modeling?
Darell: Traveling, making new friends, test new food, learning about new culture, and learning about different art from each country because i really love art.

Sedonia: Do you have a philosophy of life that you endeavor to live by and would you mind sharing it?
Darell: Don’t ever let anyone take your dream from your soul.

Thank you so much, Darell!

(All photos posted with permission from Darell Ferhostan)

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Speaking of twincest…

I have been honored with a review from an esteemed colleague, D.H. Starr, who became curious about Men of Tokyo: Forbidden Cravings when I publicly lamented having written it and broached a taboo subject, something I had never done before in any of my romances.

I wish to share the review with you, not only because we authors need to shamelessly plug our books in order to make a living but because Doug just “got it”. His thoughtful and beautifully written review showed me how much the book moved him and transcended any discomfort the taboo genre may have elicited. Although people do read these erotic romances for the element of titillation, they are still romances because the same readers love a good love story and plot with character depth and feeling. We authors endeavour to provide that and we are always so thrilled when the work is well received. Thank YOU all for reading this blog and I hope you will want to read the book, and maybe even the whole White Tigers series. Best, Sedonia

Review:

I have read several of Sedonia Guillone’s books and even collaborated on one anthology with her. She was the first to publish my work and has coached me as an author and as a friend. Recently, I read her book, part fo the White Tiger series.

As a spoiler, this book tackles a taboo subject of twincest. I know some people squirm at this subject matter and others have outright angry reactions. Beneath the subject matter, however, is a honest story about two men who struggle with their own insecurities which stand in the way of their love for one another. It’s a s simple as that. The fact the two main characters are bothers…twins…does not deter from the sense of longing, struggle, and joy in knowing who you love and finding your way to that person’s heart.

There were many qualities of this book which drew me in and kept me. The use of language and the natural flow of one moment to the next demonstrates the care and love Sedonia puts into her writing. Each scene, emotion, and event is purposeful and elegant, exploring both the inner and outer influences that motivate character behaviors.

The concept of the White Tiger, a hotel in Tokyo specializing in methods and practices for seeking inner truth and oneness with self, others, and the world, intrigued me. The owner is knowledgeable in the art of meditation and the teachings work their way into the story. Another character, Quan-Chan, is a specialist in the area of massage and bringing true awareness to one’s connection with another person. The whole crew working together are a family, not literally, but in every other sense of the best meanings of that word.

By the end, I longed to figure out who Mod and Tatou would overcome their obstacles and find their way to each other.

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Yay – My new release!

MenofTokyo23It’s been three years since I released a book in my White Tigers series but here it is. Those of you who are familiar with the series already know the twins, Mod and Tatou, but their story has never been told. Yes, this is a “twincest” story so I don’t recommend it unless that’s a genre that appeals to you. In case you do read it, though, I really hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading this. Warmly, Sedonia
Men of Tokyo: Forbidden Cravings
Author: Sedonia Guillone
Genre: M/M; Gay Romance; Twins
Series: White Tigers – Prequel
Series order: Men of Tokyo: Sudden Bliss|Men of Tokyo: Sudden Surrender|Yin Yang|Men of Phuket: Tongue-Thai’d|Men of Tokyo: Sudden Heat|Men of Phuket: Thai’ing the Knot (Visit here. www.the-white-tigers.com)
Length: Novel
eISBN: 978-1-937796-35-8
MSRP: 7.49
You pay: 4.49

Cover art: Les Byerley

**Content warning: If “twincest” makes you uncomfortable, don’t read this book.

PDFAdd to Cart|EPUBAdd to Cart|MOBIAdd to Cart
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Buy from: Amazon Kindle|BN Nook|AllRomance Ebooks

Some cravings will not be denied, no matter how taboo…

Due to popular demand, Mod and Tatou, the hot identical twins who are an integral part of the White Tigers series finally have their own story told. On the surface, they’re mischievous and funny, good friends and a comfort to their fellow White Tigers when they go through life’s trials and pains. But there is more to these two underneath their gorgeous exteriors. They had their own path to the White Tiger, a path fraught with difficulty, self- criticism, challenges and struggles. After all, they couldn’t be in love with each other, want no other in every way possible and not feel conflicted right? So when the opportunity arose to practice the spiritually erotic path of the White Tiger in Tokyo, a place where they hoped to “cure” themselves of their problem, they jumped on it.

However, as they both learned, the heart loves who it loves and they will be faced with the ultimate decision: give the heart what it wants or face the possibility of an unfulfilled yet “normal” life where they are acceptable? Now that they’ve had a taste of heaven, they might just not be able to give it up!

Excerpt:

Chapter One
London, England a few years back

“Mod, what the hell? You’ve got to be taking the piss!” The indecent proposal he’d just passed along could not be real. Not from Angie, who’d been their mate since third form and had followed them to Uni.

Mod laughed. “I swear, T, I’m not!”

Tatou stared at his brother. Like looking into a mirror really, except that their mother’s Thai features were more obvious on him. Mod’s dark eyes were a touch narrower. And the grin on his full, pouty lips was always slightly more mischievous. The way he always slicked his black hair up into a fauxhawk only emphasized his devilish appearance. At least Tatou thought so. “Then Angie’s taking the piss. These girls are mates.”

In the main room of the suite, the girls’ pajama party Angela had invited them to rang on. Some mates. Mild-mannered women by day, they’d transformed into ten horny college birds, giggling. An occasional cackle.

Mod took a swig of his beer and clapped him on the back. “Ask her yourself, T. She swears it wasn’t her idea. Someone who finds the two of us quite fit asked her to pass the offer along.” He hooked his arm so that Tatou’s neck rested in its crook, and pressed their cheeks together, giving Tatou a whiff of his cologne. Spicy. Too good. “Just think, T, a hundred quid for a few seconds’ snog.”

Tatou wrenched out of his brother’s loose hold, but not before a frisson went through parts of him it shouldn’t have, parts he’d worked bloody hard to keep under control for a long time. “There are so many reasons we shouldn’t do that.”

“Hey, guys!” Angie’s voice shot from the room followed by another shriek of laughter. The volume in the already incense and music-filled room rose. The natives were getting restless. And they wanted what a hundred quid would buy them.

That did nothing to wipe away Mod’s shit-eating grin. The barmy bugger. He was always up for anything. But this? Did he really mean to tempt fate this way? A terribly disturbing thought flashed into his mind and he prayed that Mod would be drunk enough not to play the one card that might get him to give in to Angie’s request.

“Name one reason, T.” Shit, Mod was determined to push him.

“Well, first of all, Moddie, taking money for sexual activity is prostitution.”

That pulled a throaty laugh from his heavily-buzzed brother. “The world’s oldest profession. Nothing to scoff at. Okay, T. And what are the other reasons?”

“Well, there’s one other, really.” Tatou stepped in closer. Gay they both were, but that didn’t mean you sucked face with your own brother. He had spent too much time and energy training himself to block that track in his thoughts since his mind tried ever so hard to go there and to bring his body with it. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re my brother? There’ve got to be a few injunctions in the Bible that tell us exactly where we’re going to end up if we snog. Especially for a room full of horny chicks.”

For the first time since Mod had pulled him out of the party room to tell him what Angie and her fellow suite mates wanted, his grin faded. “I don’t see the problem in that. We have our own forms of affection, or have you forgotten?” He leaned in and nuzzled Tatou’s cheek. His brother’s soft lips made his skin tingle. And other body parts that would remain nameless. He closed his eyes. They’d shared a room in their family’s tiny flat all their lives and often helped each other fall asleep by what they called “fitting.” It had only been here at Uni that they only occasionally practiced fitting which of course, required that one of them climb out of his own bed and get into the other’s. Truthfully, he missed the closeness. They were best friends. Didn’t go anywhere apart. Not even meals. Only once in a while they took a course for their majors that was different. Not even dating, limited though it had been so far in their twenty-two years. An occasional threesome in which the third guy was the focus, not each other. They really were two halves of one whole.

But now, it was time to be…normal. If he had anything to say about it, he and Mod would each find their own guy and settle down. In neighboring flats, perhaps, so they’d always be close by to each other, but not with each other. Being in school, so many people in the dorm all the time had kept them both…apart, you could say. Kissing was not going to help. Then Mod’s nuzzling lips feathered a trail toward his ear, toward the sensitive flesh of his earlobe…

With a hand on Mod’s chest, Tatou pushed him so that Mod was forced to take a step back. “Forget it.”

“There you guys are! What’s going on? The girls are going to come after you if you take any longer.” Angie, dressed in a pink silky nightgown and fuzzy slippers, danced her blonde-headed way over and put her arms around both their shoulders, swaying in time to the bass beat that made the floorboards vibrate. “I’ve got the collection going already. And…” She lifted her head up, a triumphant gleam in her hazel eyes, “There’s another fifty quid in it if you take your shirts off.”

Mod’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell!” He turned on Tatou. “T, if you don’t do this, you’re the bloodiest prat ever!” He narrowed his eyes. “Forget your stupid ideas of hell and damnation. We need this money for our trip!”

Dammit. Mod hadn’t been too drunk to play the trip card. Tatou exhaled. Their graduation present to themselves, partially funded by Mum and Dad after graduation. A whole summer in Japan. At that special place in Tokyo Mod had found on the Net. Honestly, they were headed for one of the most expensive cities in the world. They could use all the extra dosh they could get. That hundred and fifty quid would go right into their travel fund. He heaved a sigh. Mod wanted to go to this place more than he did but he never went anywhere without Mod. If he refused and made things more difficult, he’d hurt Mod’s dream and that was something he never wanted to do. Not to the person he loved and admired most in the whole world. Even if it meant…shattering what bit of self-control he’d been able to muster. Fuck’s sake. “All right. Let’s do it.”

Angie let out a girl squeal. “This is going to be so hot!” She hooked her arms through both of theirs and led them back into the crowded room.

Shite. The common room of Angie’s suite looked more like what Tatou imagined the inside of Chippendale’s looked like on a weekend night, except that the patrons were dressed in nightgowns, pajamas and slippers and were draped all over the sofas, chairs and floor of the suite’s common room, full of pillows and blankets. With a few stuffed animals thrown in. The shrieks of delight drowned out the music as Angie led them to the front of the room where there was a small space away from the heat generated by all those horny girls hungering to watch a guy kiss.

The sight made his heart pound and throat tighten. His mind fogged and his vision blurred. Up until this moment, he’d been as much the impish tease in their group of friends as Mod was, sometimes more so. Now, with all those pairs of female eyes on him and his brother, knowing what they wanted, were giving up fifteen quid apiece for, what was more nerve-racking? All this lustful attention and expectation, or the fact that he was about to break his personal taboo? Kissing…with their shirts off no less!

A hand clapped on his shoulder. He turned.

Mod was grinning at him, the corner of his full lips turned up. “C’mon, mate, let’s give ‘em their money’s worth, eh?” Before Tatou could answer, Mod released his shoulder. His hands went to the hem of his own T-shirt, lifted it off and flung it aside in one swoop. Eliciting, of course, another chorus of feminine catcalls.

Tatou glanced at his brother’s slim torso. Another shiver of electric heat travelled through him. Am I really so narcissistic that Mod turns me on?

Mod stepped up to him. “You’re taking too long,” he said and grasped two fistfuls of Tatou’s shirt. A sharp yank forced Tatou’s arms up and before he knew it, the air of the room hit his bare skin and another round of lusty girl cheers pounded through his head. These girls were mates but he swore he didn’t recognize them now, a feral lot of she-wolves in heat.

But then Mod’s hands closed around his upper arms and Mod’s dark eyes bore into his. The mischievous gleam he knew so well shone out of them, a direct reflection of his own, of course. But in private, they had their own world, a communication that didn’t need words. Whatever Mod really felt about what they were doing would surely come out later once they were back in their own room two floors below this one. Especially if he thought Tatou was mad at him for it. Cheeky as Mod was, his brother’s concerns were his and he cared. Always cared…

Tatou’s gaze fell on Mod’s lips. His consciousness registered that the room had grown quiet, except for the music, which had fallen to a slow dance kind of love ballad.

Wordlessly, Mod pulled him close. Their bare chests touched, then pressed. Warm skin grew warmer from their combined heat. The embrace forced Tatou’s arms out. At first he let them hang at his sides, but then the pressure was too much. This trip meant everything to Mod… The moment took over and he reached around…let his hands rest on the small of Mod’s back. The hard ridges of muscles along Mod’s spine met his fingertips. Tan-hued skin, smooth and perfect. Even though their dad was English, there were some Mediterranean ancestors mixed in so the golden hue and shiny, dark hair came from him as well as Mum.

Mod leaned in and pressed his lips on the side of Tatou’s neck. Tatou’s eyelids fluttered. That felt too good and he tilted his head. Mod feathered a small kiss there, right over the pulse, then licked. Tatou let out a breath and squeezed Mod’s back. Good thing their fronts were pressed together or all these women would get an eyeful of a hard-on growing in the front of his jeans. Their audience was getting well more than a hundred fifty quid’s worth as far as he was concerned.

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Shameless plug for Ai Press Erotic Romances :)

Bear with me while I put on my publisher’s hat. The catalogue of awesome gay and yaoi-inspired romances at Ai Press is growing. There is a collection of adult and YA gay romances I am proud to offer as well as a bunch more titles on the way in the next couple of months. Yay! So following is my little plug for Ai Press, still not widely known but harboring some really great stuff by authors you’ve probably heard of and may have read and enjoyed, not knowing they have more titles to be savored here, and some you have yet to discover.

HisBeautifulSamurai24Whether you love mystery, paranormal, contemporary, or YA, Ai Press offers heartfelt yet sizzling gay romances from some of today’s hottest authors. Sedonia Guillone, D.H. Starr, Mya to name a few.Embraced-Sun23

If you love YA gay romance, Ai Press offers a growing line of YA titles by popular authors Jeff Erno and John H. Ames.SurvivingEHSLJ23ForeverYoung23web

For fans of yaoi, we have something specialat Ai Press. Our Tokyo Beat line offers yaoi-inspired fiction, series with hot yaoi artwork as well as stories that will feed your craving for this style of gay romances.Big Deal Lesson in betrayal 23soysauceface Please come check out all Ai Press has to offer in gay romances – novels, novellas, series and short stories to feed your craving for the best in M/M erotic romance! www.ai-press.net

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Yay! New Release (well, re-release of an old classic, updated!)

HisBeautifulSamurai24His Beautiful Samurai
Author: Sedonia Guillone
Series: Genjin/Holmes Mysteries
Genre: M/M; Mystery; Romantic Suspense
Length: Novel
eISBN: 9781937796013
MSRP: 8.99
You pay: 4.99

Cover Art: Les Byerley

Buy from Ai Press
Buy from Amazon Kindle | All Romance Ebooks

Publisher’s note: His Beautiful Samurai has been extensively revised for release with Ai Press. It is a VASTLY different story from the 2006 edition from Torquere Press.

Sex and murder don’t mix but Detective Toshiro Genjin and psychic John Holmes do…

John Holmes comes to Tokyo to help stop a killer. Through the use of his psychic abilities, he can help find out things that no one else sees. Toshi is a policeman who reluctantly accepts John’s help, but from their first touch, John knows he wants more than that. He wants all Toshi can give him, and the heat between them surprises, and delights him.

The modern killer, a historical murder of two samurai, and Toshi’s need to honor other commitments combine to make the blooming love between John and Toshi difficult. And dangerous. The more deeply they delve into the past, the more unsure the future looks. Could the heat between them be the only thing that can solve the mystery, despite all of the difficulties that stand in their way? Can they find a way to keep what is most precious to them? Haunting and powerful, His Beautiful Samurai is a murder mystery, a romance, and a study in the supernatural. Get your hands on it today!

Excerpt:

Chapter One
Tokyo, Japan, Present day

Toshi stared down at the fresh corpses. Around him, the flashbulbs of the crime scene photographers went off like tiny fireworks. Shimatta! He’d failed again and now stood, helpless, staring at the victims’ grisly fate.

His hands already encased in latex gloves, he pressed his palms together, steepled in front of him, and bowed his respect to the dead. As did his partner, Natsuka Yamamoto, beside him.

The victims of this third killing in nearly six months, their naked, stiffening bodies still intertwined, had been skewered. The weapon, as with the other victims, a samurai’s katana, long sword.

His stomach churned, as it never failed to do when he found the Ronin Killer’s victims.
Natsuka delicately covered the victims with a white cloth then approached Toshi, shaking his head sadly. The katana tented the cloth in the most macabre way. “You ready for them to go?”

Toshi sighed. Forensics had already done the preliminary, time and cause of death. As if they didn’t already know the cause. His hand went into the inner pocket of his jacket, rummaging for the cigarettes he’d made the mistake of trying to quit the week before. Then stopped. No smoking on a crime scene. He’d have to wait. “Go ahead,” he murmured to his partner. Natsuka nodded and went to give the order.

With his mind ticking off the ways he’d failed to prevent yet another killing, Toshi surveyed the room while the Identification Division people finished up. He began to look around. Though he wasn’t sure why. Not one crime scene had turned up any useful leads. All they had so far in all this time was that the form of the murders was identical and that the victims were either married people having an illicit affair or a couple together whose relationship was rocky.

Natsuka had a theory that the killer’s motive was at least in part a sick desire to keep them together. As good a motive as any. But that still didn’t explain the fact that each time they got a trace on a suspect, that same suspect ended up dead two days later back in their own home, dead from a fatal coronary and the word “Naomasa” carved into the deceased’s forehead. Autopsies showed that the wounds were self-inflicted moments before death. Men and women, both in service jobs, both solitary types. Profiling had gotten them that far. And only that far. Where were they getting the damned swords?

The murder weapons turned out to be original swords smithed by one Koto Naomasa, one of the great sword smiths of nineteenth century Japan. However, they’d been unable to trace where the weapons were coming from, and the expert they’d questioned knew of only one other original Naomasa in a private collection in the United States. They seemed to be coming out of thin air. The case was nothing but dead ends, literally and figuratively. There had to be a cult of some kind they’d yet to find. Somewhere in the shadows, another Charles Manson was sending out his brainwashed minions to kill.
Natsuka went to round up the hotel staff and to have the manager contact off-duty employees to come in for questioning.

As always, the room yielded no clues. It seemed the killer did what he always did. Entered the room, unnoticed by the lovers engaged in the act, speared them together then turned around and left. There was nothing to do now except wait for forensic reports and to speak with the staff.

Toshi watched the sheet-covered stretcher being carried out of the room. He shook his head, fighting down a wave of nausea. The sick feeling was as much from frustration as from horror. How the hell was he supposed to prevent further murders if the killer continued to slip through their fingers like sand on the beach? If he and Natsuka had been the only ones working on this case, he might have understood the difficulty of turning up leads, but a team of twenty men and women working around the clock?
His cell phone rang. Toshi pulled off a glove and retrieved the phone from his pocket. One glance at the ID window showed the caller was his superior. He took a deep breath.

“Moshi moshi. Keishi-san.”

“Keibu Genjin. Same situation as always?” The superintendant spoke in his gravelly voice.

He exhaled. “Yes, Keishi-san. I’m sorry.”

The chief’s irritation radiated through the phone line. “Next Tuesday makes six months. We’re not doing anything to promote the citizens’ faith in Tokyo’s police force.”
Toshi gritted his teeth and raked a hand through his hair, badly in need of trimming. Hunting a serial killer did not allow one time for such trivialities as personal grooming. Or sleep. “This is not the first time a serial killer has eluded the police.” Jack the Ripper and the Zodiac Killer were famous instances, of course, but there were many others all over the world that often never made headlines for more than a few days, never mind history. Long ago back at Berkley, Michael, who was on the graduate track to profiling, had told him about many of them who’d managed never to get caught. It was a terrible response, but the only one he had in the moment. He, himself, lived in this area and had a vested interest in keeping it safe. He’d often wondered how long it would be before a victim would turn out to be one of his neighbors. “We won’t rest until we have results.”
Keishi Ito grunted. “You and Yamamoto-san finish up there. Leave the other teams to finish the inquiries and come in. I have something to tell you.”

Toshi sighed. “Yes, sir.” He flipped his phone shut, dropped it into his jacket pocket, then pulled off the other glove. With the crime scene now secured, he and Natsuka would have to come back in and search the place again in the morning. Which was really only a few hours away. Good thing there was a Starbucks right by the station. Green tea just didn’t cut it at times like these.

Natsuka was at the doorway of the room, looking at him. “Hayao and his partner are still speaking to everyone currently in the hotel. So far, no one here has seen or heard anything suspicious. I’m having a disc made of the security tapes now. They’ll send them over as soon as they’re ready. Management is still looking for all the off-duty employees.

They’ll have them here in a couple of hours, they said.”

Toshi thanked him and told him what the chief had said. Natsuka grumbled and clapped a friendly hand on Toshi’s shoulder. “Come, I’ll run interference for you with the press.” The press had been swarming around the entrance of each crime scene, ever since the Ronin Killer had begun his rampage through East Tokyo.

Toshi nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured and went again for his cigarettes. He followed the older man down the hall, into the elevator. His partner for the last four years had become a good friend, more like the father and well-meaning older brother he’d never had. His own father, a high-ranking diplomat, had always been stern and distant, demanding perfection. Mazao Genjin hated that his son was a policeman. Policing was a job for the son of blue collar men, as he had put it from his place across the table at dinner so many years ago. Not for the son of a diplomat and descendant of a samurai family. As if such social ranks still applied to modern day society.

Unfortunately, he’d still not shaken the effect of four years at Berkley in California. All that personal freedom and…well…Michael, had gotten into his blood. He’d tried to blame Michael for his complete inability to readjust all these years back in Japan, for having fed his inner drive. But honestly, it was his own doing. Or, rather his nature. Since he could remember, he’d suffered the soul-searing hunger to find answers, to get to the truth and get dangerous sickos off the street so they couldn’t hurt anyone else. In fact, were it not for his Uncle Musashi, the one person in his life who encouraged him, he wasn’t so sure he would ever have returned to Tokyo. He was beholden to his uncle, in spite of Musashi’s protests to the contrary. Musashi needed him in a way he couldn’t define, but which had had the power to drag him back from the States, and from Michael.

So, here he was.

Halfway down to the lobby, he realized his body had already begun to tense, bracing himself for what the chief would have to say. It couldn’t be good.
* * * * *
Boston, Massachusetts

“In other world news tonight, in Tokyo, Japan, a serial killer has been terrorizing the eastern portion of the city for the last six months.”

John reached out to switch off the set, but something held him back.

“The Ronin Killer, has been dubbed so by Tokyo Metropolitan Police because of the use of a samurai sword to spear his victims.”

John sat at full attention, uncertain whether it was the military man in him, or the empathic psychic. Old habits didn’t just die hard, they went kicking and screaming. He stared at the screen. Police were loading sheet-covered corpses, apparently two bodies together, into the medical van outside of what appeared to be a fancy hotel. The top of the sheet protruded upward, attesting to the sword. It was obvious the killer had skewered his victims together. Christ…

“The Ronin Killer, so named after the masterless samurai warriors of Japan,” the anchorwoman went on, “refers to the manner in which the killer chooses his victims, seemingly at random, and then murders them with a samurai weapon. Police have been frustrated in the efforts to capture the Ronin Killer before his next strike. Their only clue is the manner in which two victims are killed at once, either in an embrace or during sexual intercourse.”

“Damn,” John murmured, a sick feeling rising in his gut. He continued to watch the footage.

“Police Inspectors Natsuka Yamamoto and Toshiro Genjin of the Criminal Investigation Bureau have been on the case since the first victims appeared nearly six months ago. They refused to comment on the string of murders.”

The cameras zoomed in on the two men. They were leaving the building. A middle-aged, shorter man walked in front of the other detective, seeming to shield him, but the cameras managed to catch glimpses of the second detective. A few seconds sufficed for John to see that the younger man was slim and handsome. John’s heart sped up slightly. The detective’s ebony hair framed an angular face in sexy layers that curled over his collar.
John watched the screen, his gaze glued on the taller figure of the young detective until he was no longer visible. The segment ended and John switched off the set. He shook his head. There was a time when he would have immediately booked a flight to Tokyo and turned up at the police station, offering his services to catch the killer. Hell, that Japanese detective was almost good-looking enough to pull him from his rest cure. However, his nerves were still shot from the series of cases he’d worked on with police over the last few years. Four months hadn’t proved to be enough of a vacation. His hands had only stopped shaking in the last week.

He pushed the image of that guy from his mind, fighting back the nagging spirals of heat whispering about in his long-neglected groin area. John Holmes filled his days with walks in the park, counseling at the VA, and whatever leisure and athletic activities would keep him fit between reading trashy detective novels and staring into space. No antique stores for him, nor any other place where the lives of the dead could crash in on him. No touching other people so he could experience all their grief and anguish and learn their deepest secrets. He didn’t even take his reading material from the library or get it at used bookstores because he’d sense the lives of the people who’d touched the book before him. He was resting until his own soul told him he was ready again.

His cell phone rang. The private, unlisted number that only his agent, Dick Watson had, not even his own family. Even though he was pretty close with his folks and siblings, he’d needed to reduce the number of times the phone rang. It had also been worth his peace of mind to invest in an agent to run interference with police stations, press and general curiosity mongers and tire kickers.

John’s stomach fluttered with a touch of premonition. “Dick? Hey.”
“Sorry to make the phone ring, mate.” The Aussie’s cheerful voice gave John momentary relief. “How are you?”

John sighed and leaned back in his chair. He propped his bare feet up on the glass coffee table. “The same. How’s the wife?”

“Sandy’s fine. She wants you to come to dinner soon.”

Dick and his family were the only people John allowed himself to socialize with since Brett had left. The pressure of a post-traumatic stress disorder suffering psychic as a lover had been too much for the guy. Yet, physical contact with him hadn’t been a joy either. Brett had secrets that, when John touched him, were no longer secrets. This combination really didn’t do a relationship good.

“That would be great.” John stared up at the ceiling. He definitely appreciated when someone else did the cooking. Baked beans from a can got awfully tiresome after a while.

“Is that why you called?”

Pause. Dick cleared his throat. “Um…well…no.”

The flutter in John’s gut kicked up again. “Don’t tell me.”

Sigh. “John, I really debated hard on this one. It’s the first call I’ve contacted you about in four months.”

John could only imagine how many calls Dick had actually turned down for him, in spite of the intense guilt he suffered. How many cases could be solved if he just helped? He just had to trust that his agent wouldn’t allow something like that to happen. Dick was shrewd and prudent and John trusted him implicitly. “All right, shoot.”

“Good man. Have you started watching the news again?”

“A bit here and there.”

Dick cleared his throat again. This was going to be a doozy. “Maybe you’ve heard about the serial murders in Tokyo? They’re calling them the Ronin killings, after the samurai?”
John felt his pulse throb in his wrist. This was too damn weird. “I just saw the clip a second before you called.” I saw that hot detective who’s on the case.

“Yeah, well, the third murder just happened yesterday, taking into account the time difference. And about five minutes ago, I got a call from the superintendent of that district, asking, no pleading, for your services. They’re desperate to get this guy before he kills again.”

“Naturally.” John’s heartbeat quickened slightly.

“Of course the airfare, lodging, et cetera is all taken care of. I’ll take care of briefing the police on what you do and what to expect when you examine a crime scene, although the superintendent I spoke with says he’s read about you in their police journals.”

“How nice. I’m famous.”

Dick chuckled. “Better than infamous, I suppose, mate.”

John joined him in the laughter. “Yes, I suppose.”

The moment of humor passed and they were both silent. John sensed Dick’s hesitation on the other end.

“If you want to take some time to decide, mate…”

John sat up in his chair. He sighed. “No. I don’t need time on this one. I’m tired of refusing to help. I think I’ll be able to handle it.”

“You’re a good man, John. Are you sure?”

John nodded even though Dick couldn’t see him. “I’m sure.”

“Are you ready for the briefing?”

“Shoot.”

“Just the bare facts. The victims are found slain with the sword. Roughly twenty-four to forty-eight hours later, a man or woman is found, dead of a coronary after having carved the name ‘Naomasa’ on his or her own forehead. Their fingerprints match the fingerprints on the murder weapon each time.”

“Jesus.” The details of murder never failed to horrify.

“Tell me about it. So far the police have not been able to establish a connection. No cults or religious groups that would be engaged in such activities. Nothing.”
John sighed. “That’s where I come in.”

“That’s right. Anyway, I’ll have your ticket for you this evening when I pick you up for the airport.”

“Dick, you’re the best.” Seriously, John didn’t know how he’d cope without his agent’s help.

Dick chuckled. “So my wife is fond of telling me. See you tonight, mate.”

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