What lurks in the dark is not always a monster. Sometimes it’s your deepest desire.
A thousand years ago, Alex captained an alien ship that crashed on Earth. Stranded, he has tried to keep his men together while forging a new life. He’s locked into a never-ending war with mutinous crewmembers that makes unsuspecting humans collateral damage. That humans mistake them as vampires is all to the good. Humans are still not ready to learn aliens live among them. Alex has finally found some peace running a private club, but the memories of a human, loved and lost, keeps him alone.
Quinn Cooper was kicked out of his family when he came out as gay. Having travelled to Boston, he takes a job in Alex’s club. His boss and the men around him are large, scary and hard to ignore—as is his instant attraction to Alex. Becoming involved with the boss is always tricky. There’s something about Alex, however, that’s too sexy and compelling to ignore.
Knowing that seducing the vulnerable and virginal Quinn is a bad idea, Alex tries to keep his distance. He’s also trying to protect the boy and everyone else when the traitorous crew once more stirs up trouble. Alex’s and Quinn’s growing attraction leads Quinn closer to the frightening truth of whose bed he shares, while putting him in unfathomable harm’s way. Alex has to find a path forward to end the alien war for good or risk losing another love.
About the Author
Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.
She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don't understand why they can't read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Samantha Cayto 2018. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Pride Publishing.
Quinn blinked a few times to help adjust his vision to the dimness of the club. Compared to the bright, sunny day outside, the black walls, carpet and low-lit sconces gave the entryway a tunnel-like effect. The rapid eye movement caused his world to tilt a bit—or that might have been the gnawing hunger. He’d spent his last few dollars on a stale sandwich more than twenty-four hours ago and he was beginning to feel the drop in blood sugar. God, if I don’t get this job, I’m totally screwed. He’d have to implement Plan B, and given that it meant selling his body on the street, he prayed that wouldn’t happen.
The short hall led to a massive, two-story club room. For a second, Quinn stood and stared at the gorgeous opulence that was Lux, according to the sign on the door—a private gentlemen’s club. The open floor plan contained a sunken dance floor surrounded by plush circular booths all along the edges. A shiny, dark wooden bar ran the length of the back wall and high-tops of the same material dotted the railings of the interior. Everything here was black, too, trimmed with silver and red.
What caught his attention the most, however, were the small, round stages at the four corners of the dance floor. Each one had a stripper pole imbedded in the middle. That was where he’d be working—if he got the job and if he didn’t pass out from lack of food or an overload of adrenaline. Why did I think coming to Boston would be a good idea? He should have stayed in Michigan and found some low-paying work until he could afford to be bold. Right now, he felt like a lost kid in the big city. Thank God, he hadn’t stopped in New York. The Big Apple would have eaten him alive in five seconds.
Instead of the two days that Beantown is threatening to take.
“Hey, kid, what’s doing?”
Quinn jumped at the sudden question, issued in a booming voice to his left. Turning, he saw a huge man lounging at one of the plush tables against the wall. He had black hair in a Mohawk cut, pale skin and impressively large muscles bulging out of a tight, dark T-shirt. He had ‘bouncer’ written all over him, yet regarded Quinn with an appraising intelligence that made his empty belly quake even more.
The only thing breaking up the frightening façade was a red-headed twink curled in the guy’s lap like a cat. The boy sported a half-shaved hairstyle where one side was stubble and the other had thick, straight strands curved against his jaw. Silver hoops twinkled around the shell of his ear. Quinn envied the edgy look and wondered if he could pull it off. That was, if he started making money, which wouldn’t happen if he stood there with his mouth open.
Mustering the last of his courage, he answered, “An online ad said you were hiring go-go boys. I’m…ah, here to apply for the job.” The fact that the club was advertising for boys, not girls, told him it was for gay patrons. The sight of the bouncer-guy with the twink confirmed it.
The hulk and his boy toy stared some more at Quinn. He tried not to shrink under the attention. He knew he had a scuzzy appearance, having traveled by bus for a couple of days and catching what sleep he could on a park bench the previous night. He’d at least gone to the nearby train station and washed in the men’s room as best he could. He’d also put on the last of his clean jeans and a rumpled button-down that his grandmother had given him the previous Christmas—before he’d come out and turned into a wicked child undeserving of anything.
The man licked his lower lip. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen, sir.” He knew he appeared younger and hoped that would earn him both a job and more tips. God, it sucks counting on the world being populated by pervs in order to make a living.
The man shot him a skeptical look. “You got ID.?”
“Yes, sir.” Quinn walked to the table while he fished his wallet from his front pocket. He pulled out his driver’s license and offered it.
The man reached over without having to move—his arm being that long—and plucked the plastic card from Quinn’s trembling hand. He was so hungry and stressed that he felt like he was going to fly apart—or pass out. Face-planting on the thick carpet was a definite possibility.
“Relax, kid. I don’t bite…much,” the bouncer added with a flash of gleaming white teeth.
The redhead giggled and snuggled closer to the broad chest he curled against. Something predatory flashed in the boy’s one visible eye. Quinn ignored it. He wouldn’t mind putting up with some bitchiness if it meant earning a living without having to suck off strange men in alleys.