Daniel Rose should be having a good night. He’s a bestselling author; he’s had film adaptations of his books; he’s met movie stars. And there’s a storm outside tonight, electric and wild. Dan’s always liked storms. Tonight, though, he’s stuck staring at his computer and suffering from writer’s block, out of ideas and inspiration. But when an adorable young man knocks at his door, asks to borrow Dan’s kitchen spices, and announces witchcraft’s real and their apartment building needs an exorcism, Dan’s dark and stormy night takes a turn for the magical. Sterling Friday’s among the youngest qualified practicing members of the coven, and this haunted building’s only his third assignment. He’s a very good clairvoyant but less good at proper spellwork, and he could use some help with both ingredients and psychic anchors. He also happens to be a fan of those Daniel Rose novels, and he’s hoping Dan, as a writer, will believe his story and not turn him away. On a night drenched in magic and rain, as ghosts hover in the background, the attraction between them is immediate and elemental.

Elemental

The sight flew into his heart and stuck there, clinging in gold: power and fragility, witchcraft and humanity. Himself caring for that arm. Calling Sterling back. To him. “Mine—you said you want that, and you are, you can be, I’m here and you’re here and you can feel this, me making you mine—”


“Yours,” Sterling gasped, tightening around him, shuddering, “yours, please, yes, make me—”


Dan got the other hand between them, found his cock, did not so much stroke as simply grip him roughly and rub a thumb over the slit, and plunged into him hard. Sterling very nearly screamed, went rigid, clenched around him, and fell into a shaking openmouthed orgasm, release spilling over Dan’s hand and between their bodies, wave after wave of sticky heat. Dan groaned, buried to the hilt inside that euphoric slim body, and let the storm take him too, thunderclaps and dazzling eruptions and the flare of diamond-clear ecstasy.


Chapter 13