Kris Starr used to be famous. Rock and roll. Sold-out shows. Literal magic. Empathic talents and screaming fans. But he has a problem or two. He's having a hard time writing new music. It’s Midwinter, which means he’s surrounded by depressing holiday cheer. And he's in love with Justin, his manager, who has a talent for rescuing almost- or once-famous bands ... and who’s hiding secrets of his own. Justin Moore, on the other hand, is very good at keeping those secrets -- he's had to be for years. One secret involves a demonic inheritance that would make him a target of suspicion. Another involves his past. And the third involves Justin’s feelings for Kris Starr, rock and roll icon and now his client ... and a powerful empath of his own.

A Demon for Midwinter

He said, “Can you feel it when I touch it?”


“Yeah.” Justin’s voice was hushed, like his own: saying more, without vowels and consonants and syllables. “Like being, um, well, touched. Not that it hurts or anything, it’s small, it’s like someone tapping your shoulder. It’s a piece of me. If you seriously wanted my attention—your demon’sattention, if you’d knowingly let someone claim you—you’d play with it, or poke it, or, I don’t know, stab it with a needle or something if you did want it to hurt—”


“Oh. You—you wouldn’t—right. Um. I think mostly it’ll just sit there until it fades. But I can feel…you don’t mind it, do you…”


“No,” Kris told him, reassured him, promised him, “I don’t mind,” and felt his nerves sing with gold. “I did say I’d be gentle, and if you—” His phone. Fourth time. “Who the bloody hell—”


Chapter 70