by
The monsters are winning. Tentacled, brain-eating gyle have unleashed a full-scale invasion, and humanity is helpless against their mind-control powers.
When novice elf mage, Ambrose, is commissioned by the King to halt the invasion, he thinks there must be a mistake—he’s wildly underqualified. Fortunately, he’s paired up with Kilgore the Conqueror, a brooding orcish war hero Ambrose has secretly been thirsting over for years.
Unfortunately, their mission is headed by Grist—a sociopathic gyle traitor who’s as cruel as he is clever. The manipulative gyle can read his companions’ every thought, and enjoys torturing Ambrose and Kilgore with their darkest secrets and forbidden attraction to each other. The trio has only seven days to save the world, but they must learn to trust each other first.
Monsters & Mind Games is an exciting MM fantasy adventure with complex characters, plot twists, and a wickedly funny villain that will keep you guessing right up to the happily ever after.
(Note: This standalone novel contains extra-spicy spice, and is intended for mature readers.)
- Orc/Elf MM Fantasy
- Size Difference
- Protective Top, Horny Bottom
- Enemies to Lovers
- Hurt/Comfort
- Alien Invasion in a Fantasy World
- HEA guaranteed
Ambrose woke to the screeching of scrub jays. It was barely light, and the dawn mist blanketed the clearing with a blueish haze. The previous night’s fire was reduced to dregs of ash with a few wisps of smoke trailing away.
Ambrose’s hip and shoulder ached from lying on the hard ground. He sat up, and more blankets fell off than he’d had the night before. Kilgore must have thrown his own bedroll and rabbit fur blanket over him in the night. Ambrose flushed, touched by the gesture. It was more kindness than he expected from his own mother, and certainly more than he deserved after his foolishness with the wisps. He rubbed the luxurious fur between his fingers. He’d always pictured Kilgore as brave and determined, but never pictured him tender-hearted as well.
READ MOREHe crawled out from under the blanket and got to his feet, the morning chill quickly invigorating him. The tips of his long ears were numb with cold and he cupped a hand over his nose and mouth to warm himself with his breath.
Kilgore saddled their horses with a chunk of pork jerky dangling from his mouth. He chomped on the meat while he attached their packs. His breath puffed visibly from his nostrils, but he seemed unaffected by the cold.
“G’morning,” Ambrose said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Kilgore smirked at him. “Nice hair.”
Ambrose reached up to touch his head. His shoulder-length hair had become a tangled bird’s nest in the night. He started combing his fingers through, and Kilgore threw him a chunk of jerky. The adage “hunger is the best spice” proved true. The meat was hard as leather and took forever to chew, but his mouth watered for it.
Kilgore began buckling himself into his breastplate. “Let me help,” Ambrose said, eager to make himself useful. He’d learned how to do this for his father when he was still alive.
Ambrose cinched the straps and worked the buckles with practiced fingers. His breath caught in awe as Kilgore’s massive shadow fell over him. The top of Ambrose’s head didn’t quite reach the orc’s shoulder and he stood close enough for Ambrose to savor his warm masculine scent…
Ambrose counseled himself to be professional. He shouldn’t take advantage of the moment and touch Kilgore unnecessarily. But the idea proved too much temptation. He stroked a finger down the orc’s thick lateral muscles and shivered pleasantly at the feel of hard ridges hidden beneath Kilgore’s linen shirt. Ambrose thought he could get away with the caress unnoticed, hoping it would be mistaken for a slip of the finger, but Kilgore looked down as soon as he did it.
Ambrose flushed and kept his eyes focused on his task. “S-sorry.”
“For what?” Kilgore asked.
Ambrose shook his head to dismiss the topic. Maybe it was just a coincidence the orc looked down when he did. “Thank you for the blanket.”
Kilgore cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “No problem,” he mumbled.
Ambrose stepped back to admire his work. The orc looked powerful in his armor, like a real hero.
“We’re a few hours’ ride from the falls,” Kilgore said. “The gyle will be there.”
Ambrose’s stomach clenched in fear, but he kept a straight face. “I’m ready.”
Kilgore caught Ambrose’s eye with an intense gaze. His eyes were a lovely, rich brown. “You can run. I won’t blame you. I’ll say you disappeared in the night.”
Ambrose’s heart fell. “You have so little faith in me?”
Kilgore shook his head. “You don’t have to die. You’ve got something to live for.”
Ambrose drew his brows together. “And you don’t?”
Kilgore held his gaze, steady and unflinching. Ambrose realized that was his answer.
“Stop trying to get rid of me,” Ambrose said. “It’s the King’s orders.”
Kilgore rolled his eyes a little at the mention of the King. Perhaps he really thought the King wanted him dead. Or he respected Irial’s authority more than her father’s.
“I’m going with you,” Ambrose insisted. He drew himself up to full height, but the effect felt lost when the orc towered well over a foot taller.
COLLAPSE