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Monster Erotica, Capture, Gay

Date Published: October 6, 2023

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Monster Erotica Story. Expect limited

plot and character development, and lots of paranormal heat. If you’re

looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

Cove Deville knows he can’t touch alcohol without facing dire

consequences. One drink thrown in his face from a hook-up gone

embarrassingly wrong and he’s trapped in a large cooler and tossed

into a lake. Fresh water will have to do — better than nothing. Wrong.

Discovered on the lake’s sandy shore, he’s captured by a

bewildering man. Cove’s life, or what’s left of it if he

doesn’t find salt water fast, is about to drastically change.

Kilson Arestes can not recall the last time he was held by another. The

pain of loneliness has been so great he felt as if his heart was being

shredded. Those thoughts are quickly replaced with another kind of sadness

when he finds an ocean dweller who should never be in fresh water crawling

from his manmade lake. Little does Kils know saving the animal will alter

his undead life forever.

Will these fantastic creatures’ existence be changed for better or

worse?

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 J. Hali Steele

Everything eventually dies.

Death was coming for Cove Deville today. And it was his own damn

fault.

The evening had started with promise. From a table in the corner of a

restaurant he often frequented, Cove had watched a small but athletic

stranger climb out of his pickup truck and enter the eatery. A treat for me.

Taking a seat at the bar, the man looked around and their eyes met. There

was an immediate connection. Not a mentalist by a long shot, Cove gathered

they both desired a sexual escapade — a hard, fast fuck to end their

evening. Looked as if the man’s day had been spent fishing, while

Cove’s had been filled with… Shit, he never did anything other

than walk the beach and kick up seashells he’d probably emptied

himself before they drifted on shore and got smushed into the sand by

beachgoers and volleyball players.

Cove was a real man-whore who preferred men who were up in age. That day,

though, he’d craved companionship. He decided he could forego a

handsome older gentleman for a young one with a nice ass just this once. He

shamelessly flirted with the bastard until both decided to leave together.

Cove never took men home, and he’d learned not to be finicky about

where his hookups took place. After driving uphill along a winding dirt road

that appeared not to be used much, they’d ended up in the back of his

hookup’s pickup parked in a wooded area a mile or more from a steep,

craggy shoreline.

Physical release would usually be followed by Cove’s return to the

beach where, after dark, he’d undress and hide his clothing behind a

boulder. Wading into the warm ocean water, Cove would dive out of sight. An

hour or two later, rejuvenated, he’d surface, redress, and return to

his apartment in Malibu.

Alone.

That evening, though, Cove had gotten stupid. He allowed an argument to

develop over the fact that Cove did not want to be screwed. He yearned to

take the younger guy. Who knew his pretty little ass was a top? While it was

not his favorite way of fucking, Cove had bottomed a handful of times in his

life. But, damn, the man he’d picked up had such a pleasing round ass

and Cove had spent nearly an hour imagining plundering said ass. Taking what

he wanted. His selfishness had bitten Cove in the behind by way of a beer

being tossed in his face.

Unfortunately, alcohol in any form or potency was deadly.

Not. A. Single. Drop.

When the fucker left to take a piss, Cove had attempted to ease the

discomfort caused by the beer. He sucked the ice from around the fish in the

cooler stretching the width of the truck bed. Eventually losing control, he

shifted and fell all the way in. Thanked God he was able to regulate his

size.

The son of a bitch hadn’t even looked for Cove when he got back.

Cursing like a sailor when he looked in the cooler, he slammed the lid,

jumped in the cab of the pickup and drove like a bat out of hell for what

felt like miles down a bumpy dirt road. Skidding to a stop, the bastard

removed the cooler and dumped the contents, including his day’s catch,

into a small lake.

Fresh water! It would help flush the alcohol from Cove’s skin, but

remaining in this pond for too long was still a death sentence. Robbed of

the strength needed to shift, Cove knew his situation grew more dire as the

sun rose, its deadly light blazing into the sky. He heard someone approach

from the wooded area and cross the small strip of beach surrounding the

lake. The figure looked like a man. When necessary, Cove could borrow from

his octopod’s elevated sense of smell, but not this time. His animal

was as stymied as Cove. Snuffling the air from his position, Cove grappled

with discerning what stood glaring at him. He only knew the vision before

him smelled fabulous. Fresh, clean, and… not human. Definitely not

the young man from last night.

About the Author

Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out. — J. Hali Steele

J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay

warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t

do those things but she wishes she could!

J. Hali’s a multi-published Amazon bestselling author of Romance in

Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and

LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide —

and they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can

be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of

coffee.

Author on Instagram/Facebook: @jhalisteele

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:

@changelingpress

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