Because of the Fae, I am one lucky bastard.
When the Fae graced me with their blood, they centered my powers on being able to recover lost items. Of course, sometimes those lost items ran away on their own, but, none the less, they became lost.
The Fae's Personal Recovery Asset
So the Fae created me as their personal recovery asset. I don't even want to hazard a guess how they made that happen, but the power takes its form in two ways. The first is that my personal powers of luck are much greater than that of a non-Fae-blessed being. If I need help in finding something (especially if that something is wanted by the Fae), then circumstances simply magically align and the help I need comes to me. Of course, I still have to recognize it as such.
The Man of My Dreams
Which is a good thing. Because while I was searching for a missing person, at the request of the Fae, I happened upon the man of my dreams. Unfortunately, he was mostly naked, glistening with oil, and chained to the wall in an ultra-exclusive club ran by an underground sex slave business.
I’m going to need every ounce of luck the Fae gave me to get us both out of there alive, because there is no way in hell I’m leaving without him.
Note: This is an mm gay romance / LGBT urban fantasy story of 8,900 plus words containing hot and explicit man on man sex. If this offends you, then this book isn’t for you. This story is intended for mature readers only.
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