Author: Rory Ni Coileain
Release Date: February 28, 2014
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance
Rian Sheridan is a foundling, a Northern Irish Catholic corner boy whose world was destroyed in fire, and reborn the same way, beside an Orangemen’s bonfire last July the Twelfth. A consuming, dimly-remembered pain in his past calls to him, taunting him, daring him to find it and lose himself to it in the S&M underground of Belfast.
Cuinn an Dearmad is the last surviving Fae Loremaster, and he’s just seen the beginning of the death of the Realm, the haven of the Fae race. The only hope of stopping it starts with him finding the Prince Royal of Fire he stole from the cradle, and lost in the human world, many years ago. He has a few guesses about where that hope ends, and he doesn’t like any of them.
Rian and Cuinn are an impossible pairing, two SoulShared Fae. Any two Fae will strike sparks, but these two Fae are a conflagration. Unable to stand one another, yet drawn into an escalating series of sexual collisions, their passion will either save a world or destroy it.
Shite. Apparently thinking of the male was enough to make him appear. Although, to be honest, if that were the case, Cuinn would have been here several hours and a dozen small fires ago. “I don’t suppose you’d feck off if I asked.”
The answering silence went on for so long that Rian finally hauled the pillow off and turned his head toward the voice.
Oh, Jaysus. Never had he seen a man so beautiful; the sight stopped his heart. Beauty had never been a concern of his, only what a man was willing to do to him, to bring him closer to what he needed. But there was little of desire in the way the Fae looked at him. Nothing like what he’d grown accustomed to, through the use of his gift, making men want him whether they willed it or no.
“I wouldn’t.” There was exhaustion in Cuinn’s voice, as if he’d spent the time since their coffeehouse tryst at some heavy labor. “Though I would, if I had any sense of self-preservation.”
There was a sobering, and unsettling, sense of finality to the other Fae’s words. “I’m not after destroying you.” Not that he hadn’t wanted to, a time or two. But the taste of joy he’d had in the coffeehouse had changed all that.
Cuinn shook his head. “It’s not your doing.” He seemed about to say something else, but stopped, and sniffed, brows arching as he glanced around the bedroom. “I realize everyone needs a hobby, but arson? Really?”
Rian pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, with a sense of deja vu. Had it only been the middle of last night, when Cuinn appeared to him, determined to resist him but doomed to fail? “It helps. A little.”
About the Author
I majored in creative writing, back when Respectable Colleges didn’t offer such a major, so I designed it myself – being careful to ensure that I never had to take a class before nine in the morning or take a Hemingway survey course. I was lucky enough to score the wonderful P.C. Hodgell as a major advisor, too, and to spend several years in a writer’s workshop with Eleanor Arnason. I graduated Phi Beta Kappa at the age of nineteen, sent off my first short story to an anthology being assembled by an author I idolized, got one of those rejection letters that you talk about with your therapist until you’re old and gray, and found other things to do, such as corporate law and nightclub singing, for the next thirty years or so, until I discovered, entirely by chance (except that I don’t believe in chance), the world of m/m erotic romance. Now I have a day job as a legal editor that I’m aching to quit, I’m the mother of a high school senior (when did THAT happen?) and a member of my church choir and the St. Mark’s Cathedral Choral Society, and I’m trying frantically to keep up with the adventures of a group of very randy Fae and tree spirits and the humans who can’t seem to help falling in love with them.
Purchase the Other Books in the Series
(2) ebook of Firestorm