new release/excerpt: What I Need by Theda Black

WHAT I NEED

available at Amazon

Jacob’s a damaged young man, trying to climb out of the pit and find what he needs to be happy. He meets a beautiful boy, Elijah, and falls hard for him. The problem is, Elijah’s a hooker.

Does Jacob have a prayer in a relationship with someone even more lost than he is?

******************************

Excerpt

I reached the alley and stopped at the end of it, uncertain. I knew it was stupid but I wanted to see him. I wanted to see him again from the first moment I saw him. I wanted to know his name.

There were puddles at the edge of the alleyway where it intersected with the road. Men were paired up further in. I heard a muffled groan, saw moving shadows. The blond boy came out from the darkness as if I'd conjured him, walking toward me. His hair was mussed. He wore a tight, plain black shirt, partly unbuttoned, and a leather cord necklace. His arms were pebbled from the air, the button to his jeans undone. I caught a glimpse of golden skin.

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “Are you looking for someone?”

“What’s your name?” I asked past the knot in my chest and the derisive voice in my head telling me to go home.

He cocked his head a little, like I was some kind of strange specimen he’d found under a rock. “Elijah,” he said.

I nodded, feeling awkward.

He looked at me interestedly. “So where have you been? I haven’t seen you lately.”

I hadn’t realized he might notice. I floundered. “I’ve been taking another route.”

He smiled at me as if he understood my unease. I didn’t know why it was so hard to keep looking him in the eyes when that's all I wanted to do.

He stepped closer. “Why would you do that? I like seeing you.”

My common sense threw in the towel at the question. “I think, uh … trying not to think.”

He nodded as if I’d made perfect sense. “About what?”

I didn’t answer, and then I did. “About you.” I couldn’t believe I was such an idiot as to actually admit it out loud. I could blame it on the drinks … maybe. Not really. Jesus. Now he’d know what a weirdo I was, spying on the alley boys.

Elijah laughed, an incredulous, hard edge to it. He took another step toward me, shadows under his cheekbones, eyes wide and dark. He leaned in slow enough to give me time to move away, and then his mouth brushed over mine, light as falling snow. I didn’t move, I couldn’t, and he pushed closer in and kissed me for real, lips pressing, sliding over mine, warm and wet.

After a minute I felt his breath on my ear. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Jacob,” I said, trying not to pant.

“I like that you think about me,” he whispered. “I watch out for when you walk by.”

I turned into him, searching for his lips, and we kissed again. His tongue pushed inside my mouth, and I moaned, opening up and letting him in. I felt exposed standing in the street but I ignored it, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him close as if I could block the rest of the world that way. Finally we broke apart, breathing hard. Elijah’s mouth was flushed and full, his eyes gleaming and half-open.

I didn’t know what to do or say next. “Didn’t know you’d like—” I gestured, feeling stupid again. “—this. Kissing.”

He grinned at me as if I’d said something really funny. “What makes you think that?”

I shrugged, feeling my face flush. “Something stupid I heard.”

“About hookers, you mean.”

My face felt like it was on fire.

He reached for me and quickly kissed me again. “Not that stupid. I don’t kiss most people, but you’re different.” He turned away from me into the alleyway. His ass was small and tight, gorgeous like the rest of him. His hair was gold in the light. He looked back. “Are you coming?”

I wanted to, more than anything, but I didn’t move. Was I going to pay for sex, was I really at that point?

“No.” I didn’t know I was going to say it until I did, and immediately I wanted to take it back.

He turned around again and looked at me, his eyes already shuttering. “You're sure?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

For a moment he looked tired and even younger, his face too solemn. “Okay then. Maybe I'll see you sometime.”

It felt so wrong, watching him leave. I almost started after him. But I didn't think I could afford the piece of me it would cost to get him to stay.

WHAT I NEED

Excerpt: Beneath the Neon Moon by Theda Black

Beneath the Neon Moon

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EXCERPT

“Talk to me.” Mal’s fingers were dead white, digging into the dirt.

Zach rubbed his forehead. “I’m fine.”

“I hate people who say they’re fine whenever you ask how they’re doing.”

“You don’t hate me,” Zach said softly. “And I am—” he huffed, exasperated, then slumped a little. “I’ll be all right.”

“It’s just a way to shut people out,” Mal said, jaw stubborn as if he hadn’t heard the partial concession.

“Why so friendly with this guy, Mal?” Aaron asked, standing up as he did.

Mal jerked his head up to look at Aaron. “Unless you intend to tell us what we’re doing here and what you’re planning, fuck off.”

Aaron smiled. “Wouldn’t want you to get too attached, that’s all.”

Mal looked Aaron over, contempt clear in his face, then rose and took a swift step toward him, heedless of the chain.

Zach pushed himself up with his hands and scrambled after Mal. “Shit. Will you stop?”

“You better hope I don’t figure my way out of this, because if I do, I’ll tear you apart.” Mal’s voice was low and uninflected.

The smile vanished off Aaron’s face. “I know. There’s a reason why your chain’s so thick. You’ll feel differently later.”

“You think so?” Mal snarled, face etched in hard lines and taut fury. He ducked his head and took another step forward, then another. The chain yanked tight between him and Zach.

“Jesus. Stop it!” Zach tried to close the gap between them again.

Kane stopped him, clamping a hand over Zach’s shoulder. “Let’s see how far he takes it.” Aaron stepped back hastily as Mal advanced. Kane grinned, then glanced down at Mal’s ankle. He winced. “Man, I know that’s got to hurt.”

Mal’s head lifted and his nostrils flared. He breathed in deep, his eyes going dark as he stared at Aaron. “I smell him on you. What you did to him.” He stepped back as if to turn away, then suddenly lunged forward. The wall chain extended to its limit, but Aaron didn’t realize it. He stumbled back, fear flitting over his face.

Kane whistled, looking down at Mal’s feet. “Damn, brother.” Blood rolled over the dirty white of Mal’s sneaker into the dirt.

“Shut up,” Aaron snapped, and Kane laughed outright.

“This is nothing compared to what you’re going to feel for hurting him.” Mal’s gaze flicked over Aaron. He turned to look at Kane. “Both of you.”

Kane took his hand from Zach’s shoulder and pushed him forward. He stumbled to Mal’s side. Kane nodded at Mal, eyes narrowing. “You’re already feeling it. Like you want to climb the walls. Hit something. Run. Tear something up.” He flashed a glance over Mal’s body, then back up to his face, giving him a lopsided grin. “Or someone. Like me and Aaron, currently.”

“You’ll understand after tomorrow night,” Aaron said.

Mal’s upper lip cocked, showing his teeth. “By tomorrow night you’ll understand me.”

Aaron studied him a moment. “We’ll see. Fun’s over—for now.” He glanced at Kane, who nodded, and they headed for the stairs. At the top they looked back, two featureless shadows backlit by the light from the doorway. The light narrowed and disappeared as the door closed.

Mal grabbed Zach’s arm and backed up a few steps, then sank to his knees, panting, head falling forward. Zach went to his knees beside him. He grabbed him by the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing, Mal?”

“How bad did they hurt you up there?” Mal’s voice was low. Zach felt him trembling beneath his hands.

“I’m not the one bleeding, dammit.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No!”

Mal looked up into Zach’s eyes. “You’re lying.” His voice was deep, ragged. His dark hair was damp with sweat.

“Answer me, Mal. What do you think you’re accomplishing besides tearing yourself up? There’s nothing you can do.”

“I told you to go with them. Just go with them, Zach, they’re taking you to the bathroom. Fuck.” Mal looked sick.

Astonished, Zach said, “This isn’t your fault, idiot.”

Mal made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh, short, unhappy explosion of sound. “I told you it’d be okay. I told you that.”

Zach shook Mal’s shoulder, a quick, hard shake. He leaned closer, making sure Mal made eye contact with him again. “I am okay. Back with you now.”

Mal’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, just where you want to be.” He rubbed his face and leaned back, his upper body curving into itself.

Zach took a deep breath. The brutality of what he’d just seen Mal inflict on himself on top of everything else had sucker-punched him. He breathed out and leaned in, touching his forehead to Mal’s. “Hey. You don’t know what I want.” His heart raced, fear and something more.

Mal’s hand came up hesitantly, touched Zach’s forearm, then wrapped around it finger at a time, taking it slow. He closed his eyes. “I wish you weren’t here,” he breathed. “You’re in trouble because of me, aren’t you?”

Horror wrapped in some sort of macabre humor squeezed its way up into Zach’s throat. He swallowed it back, trying his best not to open his mouth and blow everything.

“Why do you do that? Take the blame for what’s happening? They kidnapped us. You didn’t do anything. You don’t even know them. I’m the one who went with them last night.”

Mal pulled back, eyes narrowing, studying him. “Did they tell you anything?”

“I’d have told you. Now stop staring at me and let me look at your ankle. You know I’m not thrilled with this nursemaid duty shit, so stop doing this crap to yourself.”

“No, I don’t know that. That’s all you’ve been doing, clucking over me.”

“Fuck you, I don’t fucking cluck,” Zach grumbled, hiding a smile when Mal snorted. “Grab the water jug. Ordinarily I wouldn’t think this needs saying, but after what I just saw—stay close, okay? No more pulling. I don’t ever want to see shit like that again.”

“I didn’t think you talked a lot. Guess I was wrong.”

“You aren’t wrong. I just talk to you more.”

“Why? You just talk more when you’re nervous?”

“Is there something to be nervous about?” Zach said wryly. “Stop with the twenty questions. I know you’re hurting like hell. Shut up and let me see the damned leg.”

Mal threw him an irritated look and muttered something under his breath. Zach ignored him. They both settled on the packed dirt, side by side. Zach pushed Mal’s jean leg up and examined his ankle.

It was hard to make anything out because the white light from the window made the shadows black. Even after his vision adjusted, he couldn’t tell anything because of all the blood. He poured water over Mal’s ankle and saw multiple gouges shredding the flesh, skin swelling grotesquely tight around the chain. Blood welled in the cuts again as Zach watched. But for some reason it was the blood, dark and thick against Mal’s dingy white sneaker, that affected him the most.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening to Mal. Zach understood the shit that happened to guys like him, but Mal had family. He was going to college. He was smart and funny, sarcastic and goofy and generous. He was supposed to lead the good life.

Zach finally gathered the courage to look at Mal’s arm. Stared at it. Didn’t touch it. The wound there had shrunk, the area in the center rough and reddened but no longer raw.

Mal had been bitten less than twenty-four hours ago on campus. Not by a dog. By a wolf.

Zach’s fingers shook. His fingers rubbed compulsively at the blood on the sneaker, smearing it. Thinking. They’d told him the truth upstairs. Even some details.

The first change always came with the waning moon. Chaining the whelps was a ritual that the pack followed whenever possible. The chains provoked their anger and accelerated the change, with the first prey there for the taking.

It all sounded crazy, easy to deny, but a part of him had believed from the minute they’d told him. And here was proof, or something near enough. Mal’s arm would be completely healed in another twenty-four hours.

He didn’t know what to do. People wore their humanity like a coat of armor as if it guaranteed rationality, civility, but he’d seen plenty of monsters beneath the facade. Even his father. Especially his father. Zach barely knew Mal, but he trusted himself, his instincts. He believed with everything in him that Mal wasn’t a monster, that it would kill him to become one.

“Damn.” Mal frowned, held up his uninjured arm. A small brown spider huddled just inside the crook of his elbow. He squashed it between the fingers of his left hand and held them up, absorbed by the blood spot. “It bit me. I barely felt it.” He looked at Zach, tried to smile. “Think it was radioactive?” He stared down at his hands, thinking. “I smell them on you,” he said softy. “God, I wish I didn’t. It makes me crazy. I’m—something’s happening to me.”

Zach poured more water over Mal’s ankle. Blood threaded and twisted in the water trickling to the earthen floor. He pulled the leg of Mal’s jeans back over his leg, then sat back on his haunches and look at him. “Tell me. What is it, Mal?”

Mal ran a restless hand through his hair. “I’m—I’m wired. Like I took a hit of speed or something. My skin’s crawling, too. Jumping, like there’s something in under it. Makes me want to scratch it out. And my senses have gone haywire. Even the air tastes, fuck, I don’t know how to describe it—fresher since they opened the cellar door. Lighter. More life to it when it moves over my tongue. And I’m thinking crazy things.” He swiped a forearm over his face. “Shit, this isn’t making any sense.”

“What crazy things?”

Mal faced him, eyes wide. He looked torn and guilty and very young. “Doesn’t matter.” He hesitated. “I heard you upstairs. You and them.”

“Well, yeah. I hear them moving around sometimes.”

“I heard more. I heard you with them. Mostly like ... a murmur, low and indistinct, so that I couldn’t make it out. And movement. Like I could hear the energy of it, or sense it. But there was this big hole, this silence from you. You weren’t making noises like they were. Like you were gone, or dead, but I knew you weren’t. That’s when I knew they hurt you. I wanted to kill them.” He clenched his fists. “Want.”

Zach looked away. “They didn’t hurt me. It doesn’t matter, okay.”

“It does. I would have stopped them if I could.”

“Listen to me. Don’t let whatever this is take you over, Mal. Don’t let it make you do things you don’t want. Look at me.” Zach put a hand on Mal’s arm. His skin was scorching. “So okay, something’s changing in you, but you need to remember what’s important. This crazy stuff in your head isn’t you.”

Mal climbed to his knees again and put some distance between himself and Zach. The chain lifted off the floor and hung in a curve between them.

“Cut it out.” Zach moved closer again.

“Don’t. Move back.” Mal’s voice was rough.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to—just move back.”

“You know I didn’t want to be with them,” Zach said softly. He raised himself on his knees at an angle in front of Mal.

“I know.” Mal looked down miserably, hair hiding his face.

Zach leaned forward, raised a hand to Mal’s shoulder and rubbed, firm muscle beneath his hand, then touched his face and felt the hard, high curve of cheekbone beneath skin. “C’mon, Mal. Look at me.”

Mal raised his head slowly. His skin was so hot. Zach rubbed it, felt stubble beneath his hand. This close, he could see a freckle by Mal’s nose, saw the dark pinpricks of stubble, the dryness of his lips. Zach leaned closer and brushed his mouth over Mal’s. It was electric.

Mal leaned back, breaking contact, chest heaving. “Stop.”

“I didn’t want them, Mal. I want—”

Mal stared at him. “If you say it, if you tell me that, I don’t know if I can stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“Aren’t you listening? Something’s wrong with me. It’s getting worse. I might—fuck, I might do something.”

“Do what? Can you fight it?”

Mal didn’t answer.

“Don’t you want—”

Mal’s gaze settled on Zach’s mouth, his eyes heated and dark. “You fucking know I do. It’s burning me up but I can’t. I can’t.”

“Didn’t want them. Want you.”

“Fuck—” Mal cursed, deep and jagged. “No.”

“I don’t want you to say no to me. I’m not afraid of you,” Zach breathed, leaning in, touching his mouth to Mal’s again. Mal made a sound, something wretched and wanting, and his body pushed closer, heat and want pulsing from him so strongly it felt like something physical.

Mal pulled away. “I might hurt you, okay? I might hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t, Mal. Not me.” Zach’s body curved into Mal’s as he leaned close and whispered in Mal’s ear. “I want you to get their smell off me.” He kissed him again, pressure light. Asking. Mal opened his mouth against him, slowly, as if he were still trying not to, and Zach pushed a little closer, the kiss deepening. His hand cupped Mal’s arm, moving down, feeling the swell of muscle beneath skin, soft hairs brushing over his palm.

Mal put a hand to the small of Zach’s back and pushed his thumb against his spine, rubbing back and forth, moving slowly upwards. Zach shivered. Mal gripped the back of his neck, forcing him to look Mal in the eye. “You don’t know. It’s bad, it’s fucking insane. I’m losing my mind.” His voice broke.

Zach couldn’t move away from the vise around his neck if he tried. “No you’re not,” he whispered. “Being with me, that’s what you want, that’s nothing but you.”

Mal’s grip loosened. Zach moved so that his body touched Mal’s from shoulder to knee, long line of heat. He breathed against Mal’s exposed neck, mouth lowering. Felt the tension there in bone and muscle. Flicked the skin with his tongue and tasted salt. He sucked a bruise there, then bit down.

Mal stopped breathing. Everything seemed to stand still when he turned and looked at Zach, eyes too slanted, pupils too wide, black, something savage in his face, the bones gone sharper, leaner. He gripped Zach’s head in his hands and slammed his mouth onto Zach’s, pushing inside with his tongue. Zach’s breath damned up somewhere in his windpipe, felt only the need and heat beating into him from Mal’s mouth. He pushed back and their teeth clicked together. His lip stung.

Blood.

Beneath the Neon Moon

Available at Amazon’s Kindle Store

Excerpt from AFTER ANNA

After Anna by Theda Black

When Will’s girlfriend dies, Tyler supports him in every way he can, even when Will’s increasingly self-destructive behavior endangers them both on the job. And as Will withdraws further, a desperate Tyler can’t keep his feelings hidden anymore.

But Will doesn’t turn his back on him. In fact, Will might have some feelings of his own he’s kept hidden. The trouble is, Tyler’s kept more than one secret. He knows something about Anna’s death—something that could end their relationship for good.


“Actually, I think I've heard of this before.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really. Copulatia fuckititus, pal. I remember it from college, now you mention it.”

“I'd hate to waste good whiskey, but I'm about to throw it at you.” Tyler stood and followed Will, swaying, still trying to use a napkin to pat at Will's blue shirt. He managed to slop some more on Will from his glass in the process.

Will glared at him. “If you don't mind, I'm trying to pontificate, here.”

“So poontang all you want. I'm trying to wipe the booze off you.”

Will laughed. “Shit. You said that on purpose.” He bent over, holding his stomach, and laughed some more. “Poontang.”

Tyler grinned hugely and gestured at Will's bent-over posture. “You have to take a piss or you getting friendly on me?”

Will laughed again and collapsed on the couch and then, just like that, the laughter was gone because all the fucking in the world, all the drinking and all the jokes weren't going to fix this. It hit him like a bag of sand right between the eyes.

“Will?” Tyler finally asked, a little thickly. Will sat there, head lying at a steep angle, resting it on the back of the couch. His throat moved as he swallowed. “Hey. Hey, Will. Talk to me.”

“I had no idea about Anna. None.”

“She didn't want you to know.” Tyler slouched down beside him.

“There was this whole other part of her that I didn't know. Some detective, huh." Will shook his head in disgust. "Shit, I've been on the streets enough to recognize the signs. I didn't. That bastard fed her all the drugs she wanted and had himself an easy piece of ass for his troubles, didn't he? And I was oblivious, walking around with my head in the goddamn clouds. What an idiot.”

“You weren't an idiot. I never saw her high, either. So you trusted her. Something you do with people you love,” Tyler said with a gentle sarcasm.

“Love is blind, huh? Only if you're a fucking idiot.”

Tyler tapped the back of Will's hand. “Do not do this.”

Will raised his head up and blinked, trying to meet Tyler's eyes. “Do what?”

“Make me stare at you. I'm too drunk to hold my head steady.” Will smiled a little. “C'mon, don't blame yourself. You know better.”

“You have this idea of me, Ty, and I don't know who you're seeing, but it isn't anybody who knows better.”

“The hell with that. I know what I see. It's you who's too busy blaming yourself to see how things are.”

“Oh, really?” Will asked listlessly.

“You don't have any fucking idea how I see you, Will, so shut up.”

“Just where the hell is this coming from?”

“Maybe you're right. Maybe you don't see things sometimes.”

Will raised his voice. “I fucking know I don't, that's what I said. Why the fuck are you on my case?” Tyler didn't reply, his lips set in a tight line.

Will sat back again slowly and shrugged. Forcing his body to relax, he leaned back and dropped his head against the top of the couch again. The sofa creaked and the seat cushion next to him rocked downwards. Will's eyes flew open and Tyler's face hung over his, angry and determined and almost scared. His mouth lowered, touched Will's, soft, then harder, something unleashing from inside him, and he drove Will down into the cushion, pushing his weight into him.

*****

Flash Fiction by Theda Black

Not Five Fucking Years
By Theda Black

I miss Dean. I’m not a guy who normally admits to stuff like that, tries not to think it, either, but he’s been gone for a week.

Okay, nearly a week. Five days. Feels longer. Anyway.

He had a family reunion back in New Hampshire. Mom, Dad, cousins, the whole bunch. And Dean’s got a big family. Okay, so I’m not one for crowds to begin with. When he asked me to come with him, I begged off. Not because of the crowd thing. It’s just that I’m not ready, especially not when I know how his family reacted to his coming out last year.

I’ve seen those looks on other faces—remember all too well how it sat on my brother’s face. My father’s. Uneasy because they didn’t know what to do with the fact of me being gay, and tense because they tried so hard to cover up the unease.

It’s not that they didn't try, but the truth of the matter is that it made my entire family uncomfortable. Which made me uncomfortable.

Now that might be funny if…

No. No it wouldn’t. It wasn’t.

Shit. Dean’s been gone five days and I’m acting like the dog someone left at the kennel to go on vacation, for God’s sake.

So, we have a house. It’s small, one-story. And we have a dog (speaking of). I love Chewie. I love him even more at the moment. He keeps me company. The house may be small but it feels damn big at the moment. Empty.

I turn off the TV, hear Chewie lapping up water down the hall in the kitchen, and go to let him out. It’s dark out and there’s a cool breeze. Chewie stands at the fence and barks at the neighbor’s dog. Seems like he’s in no hurry to come in, so I head inside for a quick shower.

Even with the dog barking outside, it feels quiet.

****

I felt like a fucking idiot getting on that plane. I’ve only been gone five days, not five fucking years, but by the time I landed I didn’t even bother feeling stupid anymore. And by the time the cabbie let me out in front of the house I just wanted to see him.

Okay, and maybe other things.

Chewie runs from behind the house and jumps me, hitting me with both paws square in the middle of my chest. I laugh and ruffle his ears and head, talking nonsense to him, then go inside. I don’t hear David until I head for the bedroom. Then I hear the shower and stop outside the bathroom door. Push it open.

His body’s all slick-wet, hair plastered to his skull. Strong legs bracing himself against the shower wall, stroking himself hard, cock jutting, gleaming in the cascade of water, making those grunting noises in the back of his throat. His hand moves faster, jacking himself, open-mouthed, eyes closed, gasping, his dick going a dusky color in his fist.

I drop my bags and step in the shower. Fully clothed. At this moment I could care less if the President himself got on the boob tube and announced that I am a spineless, miserable wuss who can’t stay away from my boyfriend for five days without folding like a bad hand of cards.

His eyes fly open and for a second he looks scared shitless. After all, it’s not like I told him I was coming home early. I wanted to surprise him. I smile and cover his mouth with mine, and when we finally break away, he looks down at my soaking clothes and laughs his ass off. But only until I sink down on my knees. I catch the head of his cock between my lips, feeling it jump, feeling the heat, the pulse of him inside my mouth, and then I suck him hard, hot and close. His green eyes burn and he pants, mouth open, holding my head and pushing me harder down on him. I grab his ass in both hands, feeling him heavy in my mouth, sucking him hard and fast, and I run a hand between his legs, behind his balls, and push just a little inside. He's so tight- I feel him spasm around the tip of my finger. Then he opens his legs wide, pressing down, asking for more. I push another finger just inside, rotating them both, pushing my mouth over his cock as far as I can go. He arches his spine, eyes gone dark and wild, desperate, looking into mine. His mouth is open and wet, panting, and then he’s writhing against the wall, shooting off, jerking against my lips. I take everything he’s got and swallow it, asking for more. God I want more.

And I tell you, even if it's only been five days and I’m an idiot for missing this guy so damned much—this big, lanky, moody guy with the green eyes and wide smile made just for me—then so be it.

So fucking be it.