LivChanin

Rowan sees beauty in death. The Order he has sworn to obey only sees defilement.

As the reviled Caretaker of the Order, Rowan has accepted his role as a dutiful outcast because he believes it is the only way to prove his worth to the man who holds his sisters’ souls as collateral.

With his magic and his voice, Rowan can absorb death and transform it, but only in ways the Order deems acceptable to maintain the stability of the reality it claims to protect

Order must subdue Disorder. Reality must triumph over illusion. He is tainted and always will be.

Rowan has never questioned those lessons, but that changes the night he harvests a crimson soul that is more than human and chooses to keep it a secret.

When Rowan’s song transforms that soul into a beautiful and mysterious man he names Wren, he is forced to accept that sometimes duty is a lie and illusion is the only thing you can trust.

As the fabric of the Order begins to unwind and a new kind of Disorder takes hold, Rowan will need to choose again, stand with the Order that held him down, or forge a new path with Wren at his side.

He may be the only one who can restore balance to the worlds, but only if he can find balance within himself first.

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Updates 3-4 times per week.

Note: This story focuses on relationships. I promise an epic romance, lots of swoon-worthy moments, and a healthy amount of fluff.

When it does get steamy…you might get burned. Fair warning for explicit content. I don’t shy away from my spice.

There are lots of side characters and couples to fall in love with, in addition to the main couple. If you love the idea of found family, you will be happy.

This book is set in a non-heteronormative world, so you will see various gender identities/expressions and types of love. 

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Excerpt (if you want the full steamy version, you will have to read the book!):

Still reeling from the new magic that coursed under his skin and unsure of how to react to the desire that threatened to take control of him, Rowan froze.

Wren's hot breath against his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, and he choked back a groan.

A different kind of panic flared in Rowan's chest, burning him as if he were the one on fire. This was what he wanted, what he'd thought about every night since Wren left.

But wanting more was one thing. Acting on it was another.

He'd spent so much of his life hiding, he didn't know how to do anything else.

One corner of Wren's mouth twitched as Rowan pulled away. When he attempted to free himself from Wren's grasp, Wren just hauled him closer.

Rowan liked that he didn't have to think about what to do next. His bare chest thudded against Wren's torso, and the heat from Wren's body merged with Rowan's skin, melting him from the inside out.

"What did you just do to me?" Wren's deep voice vibrated against Rowan's chest.

"The Disorder of your illusion was holding you captive. I…I absorbed it."

"Oh? Where did you learn to do that? Have I been gone that long?" Wren's grip loosened slightly on Rowan's wrists as if he was satisfied now that Rowan was practically sitting on top him.

Rowan stared at Wren's lips. He opened his mouth to protest, but immediately closed it again.

"I know you aren't going to say that I shouldn't touch you." Wren's free hand splayed over the small of Rowan's back. "Not when you started it."

Rowan's breath hitched. "No. I'm not going to say that anymore. Not to you."

"I thought you were afraid to be touched." Wren's fingers traced a circle over the curve of Rowan's spine as if testing for a reaction.

"I know that I'm not afraid of you." Rowan waited for the panic to set in, but all he felt was desire. "With you, I want…"

"You want what?"

"I want more."

Triumph flared in Wren's gaze before he narrowed his eyes. "Really? Then why are you still trying to get away from me?"

Song of the Gardener of Souls [BL]

Immediately Rowan could feel that this version of the shrine was different than the one where Wren went to torture himself.

On the surface, everything was identical, from the drab stone of the walls and bare altar to the forgotten candle on the floor in the corner. The same grey drizzle fell outside, and the same damp chill filled the air.

But the poison from the creature Wren had destroyed and pain of the memories that wove through the fabric of his private illusion space were absent here. This was merely a replica of that place, one that was less personal, yet no less oppressive in its emptiness and neglect.

Wren had cast his illusion around them so Yamm stood alone in the center of the room, while Rowan stood almost flush against Wren's side.

He was certain the god could have resisted being brought here if he really wanted to, but Yamm wore an uncharacteristic air of patience as his son's magic settled around them.

Words That Matter (3/3)