SIlent Knight: Blackhaven Manor, Book 7
Paranormal M/M Romance
32K+ Words
32K+ Words
Being part siren isn’t exactly a secret, but it’s not something Simon Russel likes to advertise, either. He’s not ashamed of who he is or anything so dramatic as that. But people tend to treat him differently once they realize he can manipulate their emotions. Just once, he wishes someone could see him and not the demon within.
Enter Archer Knight, a former Enforcer and the newest guard at Blackhaven Manor.
Forced into retirement after a poorly executed mission leaves him damaged and disfigured, Archer figures he has a right to be a little bitter. With his scarred face and surly attitude, he’s not going to win any popularity contests, which suits him just fine, or so he tells himself.
Until he meets Simon.
Mix one not-so-chance encounter, a heap of holiday cheer, and a dash of misguided but well-meaning intentions in this recipe for Christmas magic. Season with love and serve with a side of awkward family get-togethers. Don’t forget the marshmallows.
Enter Archer Knight, a former Enforcer and the newest guard at Blackhaven Manor.
Forced into retirement after a poorly executed mission leaves him damaged and disfigured, Archer figures he has a right to be a little bitter. With his scarred face and surly attitude, he’s not going to win any popularity contests, which suits him just fine, or so he tells himself.
Until he meets Simon.
Mix one not-so-chance encounter, a heap of holiday cheer, and a dash of misguided but well-meaning intentions in this recipe for Christmas magic. Season with love and serve with a side of awkward family get-togethers. Don’t forget the marshmallows.
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excerpt
Simon’s frown deepened. He didn’t think Archer looked frightening exactly. With the severe set of his mouth, and the tightening at the corners of his arctic blue eyes, he was projecting some serious fuck-off vibes, though.
Only, it wasn’t real. He might look harsh and unapproachable, but on the inside, he was kind of a mess.
Tilting his head, Simon studied him more closely. Wariness and unease seemed to be the driving emotions. There was anger there, too, but it didn’t really have a direction. It felt more like he was mad at the world.
Simon tensed as the weight of that statement settled over him.
While he could alter the emotional state of others to some degree, he wasn’t an empath. He couldn’t feel what those people felt. Instead, he had to rely on physical and verbal cues, the same as everyone else.
But this time, he didn’t have to guess. He could sense the storm of emotions raging inside the male as clearly as if they were his own, and the realization left him confused and unnerved. With every step Archer took toward him, those strange and unsettling feelings only intensified, and Simon balled his fists at his side to stop his hands from shaking.
His heart pounded inside his chest, making a valiant attempt to climb into his throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to force back where it belonged. When that did absolutely nothing, he hooked a finger into the collar of his dress shirt and tugged at the starched material.
“Are you okay?” Gigi whispered, her brown eyes filled with concern as she looked him up and down. “You’re flushed.”
“I’m fine.” He pulled more insistently at his collar. “Is it hot in here?”
Her brow creased, and she shook her head. “No, it’s not.”
The harder his heart beat, the more difficult it was to breathe. A low, steady hum started at the base of his skull, sending faint vibrations down his spine and making his ears ring.
“Are you sure?” Sweat beaded across his brow and trickled down the back of his neck. “It feels hot in here.” As he spoke, he ripped open the top button of his shirt and fanned the collar. “You’re really sure?”
Fuck, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore.
“I’m really sure.” Stepping in front of him, Gigi pressed her palm to the side of his face and frowned. “You feel clammy, hon. Maybe you should sit down. I’ll get you some water.”
Simon shook his head. He couldn’t explain why or how he knew, but he was exactly where he was supposed to be. “I’m fi—ahh!”
He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his groan as the gums around his canines exploded with pain. Then, he immediately gasped and jerked his hand away, licking his lip where a long, pointed fang had pierced the skin.
“Simon?” Gigi grabbed his elbow and shook him roughly. “Simon, what’s happening?”
But her words barely registered, and he couldn’t have answered her if he’d tried. Mostly because he didn’t know what the hell was happening to him. He wasn’t a werewolf or a shifter or a vampire. Hell, he was barely a demon. Never in his whole life had he casually sprouted fangs for no fucking reason.
Doing his best to hold himself together, he stood rigidly, his lips clamped together to hide his new hardware, and waited for Cyrus and Archer to reach the café. By the time the pair stopped a few feet from him, Simon could barely breathe.
Only, it wasn’t real. He might look harsh and unapproachable, but on the inside, he was kind of a mess.
Tilting his head, Simon studied him more closely. Wariness and unease seemed to be the driving emotions. There was anger there, too, but it didn’t really have a direction. It felt more like he was mad at the world.
Simon tensed as the weight of that statement settled over him.
While he could alter the emotional state of others to some degree, he wasn’t an empath. He couldn’t feel what those people felt. Instead, he had to rely on physical and verbal cues, the same as everyone else.
But this time, he didn’t have to guess. He could sense the storm of emotions raging inside the male as clearly as if they were his own, and the realization left him confused and unnerved. With every step Archer took toward him, those strange and unsettling feelings only intensified, and Simon balled his fists at his side to stop his hands from shaking.
His heart pounded inside his chest, making a valiant attempt to climb into his throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to force back where it belonged. When that did absolutely nothing, he hooked a finger into the collar of his dress shirt and tugged at the starched material.
“Are you okay?” Gigi whispered, her brown eyes filled with concern as she looked him up and down. “You’re flushed.”
“I’m fine.” He pulled more insistently at his collar. “Is it hot in here?”
Her brow creased, and she shook her head. “No, it’s not.”
The harder his heart beat, the more difficult it was to breathe. A low, steady hum started at the base of his skull, sending faint vibrations down his spine and making his ears ring.
“Are you sure?” Sweat beaded across his brow and trickled down the back of his neck. “It feels hot in here.” As he spoke, he ripped open the top button of his shirt and fanned the collar. “You’re really sure?”
Fuck, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore.
“I’m really sure.” Stepping in front of him, Gigi pressed her palm to the side of his face and frowned. “You feel clammy, hon. Maybe you should sit down. I’ll get you some water.”
Simon shook his head. He couldn’t explain why or how he knew, but he was exactly where he was supposed to be. “I’m fi—ahh!”
He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his groan as the gums around his canines exploded with pain. Then, he immediately gasped and jerked his hand away, licking his lip where a long, pointed fang had pierced the skin.
“Simon?” Gigi grabbed his elbow and shook him roughly. “Simon, what’s happening?”
But her words barely registered, and he couldn’t have answered her if he’d tried. Mostly because he didn’t know what the hell was happening to him. He wasn’t a werewolf or a shifter or a vampire. Hell, he was barely a demon. Never in his whole life had he casually sprouted fangs for no fucking reason.
Doing his best to hold himself together, he stood rigidly, his lips clamped together to hide his new hardware, and waited for Cyrus and Archer to reach the café. By the time the pair stopped a few feet from him, Simon could barely breathe.