Character’s Perspective with Derek and Tyler from A Weekend Unbound

 How much can a Dom ask of his submissive? And how much of himself?


If you could have changed one of your actions – just one – what would it be, and why?

Tyler: I would have talked to Derek about our names. We talked a little bit about the meaning of Master in the scene, but I wish we had at least talked about it before we’d been playing for a day. It was the right decision, and I wouldn’t take it back, but I wish we had talked about it more.

Derek: Just one? Don’t get me wrong, I have no big regrets about anything, but there always small details that I might have done slightly different.

What event in your life would make a wonderful short-story addition to your story?

Tyler: The first time I got on my knees for Derek. It took us so long to get to that point, I wish that others could see it. We knew our dynamic by our third date, but it took a while to actually play.

Derek: That’s funny, but it’s exactly what I had in mind, but of course from another perspective. Asking another man I had fallen in love with so fast and do deep, to get on his knees for me wasn’t as easy as some might think. That would make for an interesting story.

Were you reluctant to have your story told?

Tyler: I was hesitant. This weekend was intense and private and so personal. What made up my mind was the opportunity to share how loving Derek is. I know our kinks are extreme, but it only deepens our love for one another, and I want the world to know.

Derek: What do you think? I know how judgmental people can be. Don’t you think I have my own doubts from time to time, about what I’m asking of Tyler? But then, I would be really worried if that voice in my head would stop talking to me.

Did your storyteller take any artistic liberties? If so, please set the story straight.

Tyler: I think they may have swept over the minutiae. I wasn’t in sub space the entire weekend, but it did get much more intense toward the end of the weekend.

Derek: I would be a strange if they hadn’t. Unaltered reality isn’t as exciting as some believe. They even understand that at so-called reality shows.

What surprises you most about your love interest?

Tyler: He loves Korean horror movies, but he can’t stand horror movies made in the US or England.

Derek: How dominant he is when we play rugby. Without him the Turing Machine’s wouldn’t have won as many games as we did the last couple of months. And he’s big and strong too, but that’s easy to see for anyone.

What is one moment in your love interest’s life – before you met – you wish you could have experienced?

Tyler: I wish I could have been with him during his first experience as a Dom. It wouldn’t have been clean or neat, but one of the things I love about Derek is how he adapts to meet my needs. I want to know who taught him that, and thank him.

Derek: His first kiss. Yeah, you can point and laugh at the hopeless romantic.

Want to learn more? Check out the blurb for A Weekend Unbound:

How much can a Dom ask of his submissive? And how much of himself?

For Derek and Tyler, Dominance and submission have been part of their love right from the first hello. But now Derek wants his submissive to go as deep as he is physically and emotionally able to. During two days and two nights, there are no safety words and very few limits. This is their chance to demonstrate their love for one another through the most extreme scenes they’ve ever played.

There is, however, one rule to trump all others for Tyler—to protect Sir’s most loved possession, even if it means disobedience or going against his own need to submit to his Master without question or complaint.

This weekend will open up levels of their relationship they’ve never dreamed of before.

Reader Advisory: This book contains intense BDSM scenes, strong pain-play, mild humiliation, fisting, pet-play and mild sensual torment. Please be aware of the twenty-four-seven Total Power Exchange dynamic between those two men.  

Like the sound of A Weekend Unbound? Buy it here: 

About S. Dora:

  1. Dora is the me writing m/m erotica, though I can imagine a m/f or f/f story might suddenly decide they want to get written too, somewhere in the future. The real me is also writing: novels and stories that don’t revolve around the down and dirty. And the non-writing me? Is it interesting to know I’m a woman, born in 1961? That my wife and I celebrate our 33th anniversary in October 2015? That we have two sons and five cats and live near Rotterdam? That I had a novel published in Dutch? And one in English? That Dora is because of the little mechanical typewriter I bought with money earned with my very first summer job? That I studied social history and done all kinds of jobs? I guess it actually is, if only because every story ever told is important to at least one reader.

About A. Moore:

I have been reading gay erotica for over 15 years now and I’ve been writing it for a little under ten years. I’ve always had an interest in Dominance and submission, and my writing reflects how my thinking about the scene has evolved. I live in the southern United States, an area not incredibly open to alternative lifestyles, and the internet has been my salvation. I spent about six months working on a website, designing tease and denial games, and it is still one of my biggest kinks.

COMPETITION TIME: S. Dora and A. Moore are also running a competition for the chance to win a $50 gift card of choice. If you are interested please comment below with your reaction to this blog along with your email! If you feel more comfortable not commenting here, please email S. directly at The winner will be generated by  at the end of the tour.

Character’s Perspective with Rosalie Stanton’s Dante from Lost Wages of Sin

Working for Lucifer is the best job in the universe, until the day it’s not. Then you’re on your own, with Hell at your heels.
What do you hope reader’s take away from this retelling of your story? 
 Honesty. Best fucking policy there is. Things woulda gone a lot different for me if I’d been upfront from the start. ’Course on the flip side, and there’s always a flip side, I think of how things are now between us. Me and Ava, I mean. I wouldn’t change a thing about where we are now. That I could’ve had it all along smarts like a bitch, but if it wasn’t like this all along, I dunno if I’d change it.

But I’ll stick with it and say honesty. ’Cause even if I wasn’t completely honest with her until recent, being anything but that won’t do me any favors going forward…and I am not going to lose this.

What is one thing your storyteller misrepresented?

I seem to remember kicking more ass than she gave me credit for. Sure, my lady packs a harder punch than I do, but I’m not the type to go down in a life-or-death battle without taking three or four assholes with me, you know?

If you could have changed one of your actions – just one – what would it be, and why?

If I could be guaranteed nothing would change? After Ava left, the first time, I mean…I wouldn’t have let my other head do the thinking. Don’t much like to think about it, but there it is. ’Course, I don’t know what woulda come of it. She came back. I should’ve known she’d come back. Ava never walks off forever. If I’d waited, we might’ve been together a lot longer.

But she’d been dancing around me for so long, you know? Lots of flirting, sure, and she knew I was hers if she just…but she was scared. I should’ve seen it. I know her better than anyone, but I thought she was running from me rather than herself. Couldn’t help but take it personally. Knowing what I know now, I would’ve waited for her. She’s worth waiting for till the end of the world. What was a few more weeks? I was a moron.

 Who would you want to play you in a movie-retelling of your story? Who would play your love interest?

Well, I know what my storyteller would say. Colin what’s-his-face who plays Hook in that fairy show. And Ava would be played by that girl on American Horror Story. The redhead? The one who played the sexed up housekeeper? The young one, of course. Ava might be two thousand years old, but she doesn’t look a day over twenty-five. Personally, though, we should just play ourselves. No one knows our story better than us.

Were you reluctant to have your story told?

Only that the author wouldn’t capture me in all my glory. She coulda done a better job, but considering what a task that was, I suppose I can live with it.

 Your storyteller told some pretty embarrassing tales about you. Is there any secrets you’d like to share about them?

Well, it took her two versions and four years to get the story right. Mighty embarrassing for her, don’t you think? Shouldn’t have been in such a hurry the first time. We deserve nothing but perfection.

 Your story is being made into a musical. What’s the name of your song?

Demons Do It Better. Take that as you will.

 What first attracted you to your love interest?

If you knew Ava, you wouldn’t have to ask…but here, I’ll give it a go. Umm…Everything. She’s the strongest person I know, and I mean that every way you can take it. She doesn’t take shit, least of all from me. She didn’t need rescuing. Never has. When I first met Ava, she was saving my ass from being a holy man’s campfire. She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t bat an eye. Didn’t ask for a fucking thank you. Just went on saving the lot of us—there were a few demons there who were seconds from being thrown on the pyre, and she had no reason to get involved. The second I saw her, I knew she was special. Just took a few hundred years to figure out just how much.

What surprises you most about your love interest?

That she actually loves me. Fuck knows what I did to deserve it. But I’ll fight for it every day for the rest of forever.

At what moment did you know you were in love?

For me, it was the beginning. Right from the beginning. Every moment after that just showed me why.

Thank you so much for sitting with me today, Dante. I’m sure my readers are going to love your story.

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Character’s Perspective Duncan and Kenzi from the Baobhan Sith Trilogy

His thirst for vengeance. Her desire for his touch. Their chase through eternity.

“Kenzi” Katherine MacKenzie is being hunted by Duncan Munroe. For four hundred years he has searched for her, their immortal baobhan sith bodies immune to age, her crime against him driving his thirst for vengeance. His need to be free of the sith curse.

But what he discovers when he captures her—what they both discover in each other—upends their centuries-long chase into something far greater. Something frightening.

Something eternal.


Duncan: Kenzi, whose office is this? I thought we were meeting Charles and—

Kenzi: Oh, I know that scowly-face, big man. Now don’t be mad—

Duncan: Little one, what did you do?

Kenzi: —but I thought it was time we told our story a little more. You know your face might freeze that way if you keep frowning at me like that.

Duncan: Tell our story? To a human?

Kenzi: Tori isn’t just a human—

Duncan: She’s sith?

Kenzi: Oh goodness! Put the gun away, silly man! Of course she’s not sith. She’s— Ah, here she is now. Tori Carson, meet Duncan Munroe.

Tori: Whoa! You weren’t kidding when you said he was big, Kenzi!

Kenzi: Down, girl. Duncan, my love, met Tori Carson, our host for today. Now please stop frowning, darling man—this will be painless. Tori is a well-known author, and a good friend—she and I have been chatting on Facebook for awhile now. You can trust her.

Tori: Pleased to meet you, Duncan.

Duncan: Ms. Carson. Kenzi, are you sure—?

K: Of course.

T: Please have a seat, both of you. Though I’m not sure my couch will hold Duncan. Just how tall is he?

K: Six-four, two hundred fifty seven pounds. All of it rock-hard muscle. Yum!

T: You sound very proud of— Ah, you’re just going to sit in his lap, then, I see.

K: Whenever I get the chance—it’s a nice lap.

T: But do you need to wiggle?

K: Kinda.

T: Er, perhaps we should get started.

D: Ms. Carson—

T: Tori, please.

D: Very well. Tori. What is it you hope to gain from this today?

T: My readers are curious about the two of you, and want to know more about you. For example, what would you like them to take away from the story of your adventures?

K: That first of all, it was how Duncan and I met and fell in love. The pesky adventure part kept interrupting our fuc—

D: Little one!

K: Oops! Sorry! You know how we sith are, Tori—if it’s not blood-drinking, it’s sex. But Duncan gets a little uptight when I swear. For someone who’s done all the deliciously naughty things to me that he’s done—


K: Uh-oh, I’m in trouble now. I’m guessing I’m getting a spanking when we get home, my love?

D: At least one.

K: Don’t let his grumping fool you, Tori. Duncan is the sweetest, kindest, most loving man on the face of the earth. When he isn’t tearing the heads off of murderous sith to save humanity, of course.

T: Um, okay. Speaking of that, is there any one action that either of you would have changed if you could have?

K: Killing Demetrios, my love?

D: Killing Demetrios, sweetheart. Much, much sooner.

T: Who is Demetrios?

K: The most vile, most evil, oldest sith in existence. Our mortal enemy.

D: And your old Master.

K: Now you know I don’t think of him like that, Duncan Green-eyed Munroe. Vile, that’s how I think of him. Ick.

T: Speaking of green eyes—

D: Yes, Kenzi’s eyes are beautiful, aren’t they?

K: Stop, big man! You’ll make me blush.

T: But what color are yours, Duncan? They kind of give me the chills—

K: Azure. A shade you’ve never seen, I bet, Tori. Spooky, huh?

T: I’ll be seeing them in my dreams tonight, I think.

K: You should see them when they turn black. Usually right before he throws me on the bed and—

D: Kenzi.

K: Oh. Oops again. Now don’t growl at me, sweet man. Though you know what that does to me—

T: Moving on, quickly. How did you feel about having your story told?

D: Do you mean the archival record for the hunter Council? Kenzi, how does she know about that?

K: I told her. Oh, there goes that frown again. Duncan, my darling, I swore her to secrecy. You should hear some of her secrets.

T & D: Kenzi!

K: Uh-oh. I’m really going to get it tonight, aren’t I?

D: I may not wait that long.

T: Well, speaking of that archival record, did the archivist take any liberties with your story? Anything you’d like to correct?

D: I’m not quite as noble as I was made out to be—

K: You most certainly are, Duncan Munroe! If anything, the archivist underplayed your decency. Tori, did you know that he took a bullet for me? I mean that literally. He actually stepped in front of a bullet for me.

T: Wow. He seems okay now.

K: But it was close. I almost lost him.

D: Little one, please don’t cry. It’s over now.

T: Do you regret doing that, Duncan?

D: Of course not. I will protect Kenzi to my last breath, in whatever way she needs my protection.

K: I do wish I had been braver sooner, though.

D: My love, you were amazing all the way through. And especially when the time came—

T: What did you do, Kenzi?

K: Um, it’s kinda hard to explain. The archivist covered it pretty well at the end of the third archive record, though. Don’t you think so, big man?

D: That was where I thought I’d lost you.

T: What surprises you most about Kenzi, Duncan?

D: Her capacity for love.

K: Mmm-hmm. I’m blushing again. Tori, Duncan lived in a very dark world for more than four centuries. Every day he fought the sith, he and his men standing between them and the end of humankind. If anything, it’s his capacity for love that astonishes me. How he was able to find a place in his heart for me, when he had hunted for me for four hundred years for what I did to him, what I Made him into—

D: No tears, darling. You know I took one look at you, and could not behead you.

K: Yes, sweet man. Thanks again for not killing me that day.

T: Was that the moment you knew you were in love?

K: I knew it four hundred years ago.

D: The moment I looked at Kenzi— That was the moment my dark existence ended, and my true life began. She is my life. And she has my love and protection for as long as she wants it.

K: Which is forever. Ooh, I love it when you talk like that, big man.

D: You bring it out in me, little one.

T: The wiggling again. Okay, thank you two for coming in. I’m sure my readers enjoyed your— Now seriously, if you’re going to do that, at least give me a moment to leave the room. Sith! I mean, really.

Want to learn more?   I knew you did.   Check this out!

Here’s an excerpt from “Born of Desire and Blood: Book One of the Baobhan Sith Trilogy”, an erotic paranormal D/s romance with a variety of delightfully naughty perversions that Duncan and Kenzi–my hero and heroine–get up to.

In the following snippet, Duncan is giving chase across the Northern California hillsides on a moonlit night, and is about to capture an impish and naughty Kenzi.

And by the way, Duncan and Kenzi are special, in an immortal, nearly-invulnerable sort of way: they are baobhan sith.

Copyright © 2014 Corey Harper
Corey Harper Books

Kenzi rocketed up a hill in front of him, and the incline did not slow her at all. Duncan followed, again closing the gap. She wasn’t going to escape this time!

His erection strained at his jeans, and he longed to remove them and allow his brute complete freedom. But first, he would capture his prey and strip the remaining shreds of cloth from her glorious body.

He wanted to devour her. He wanted to slide his tongue across her throat, stopping at her pulsating vein, just long enough to make her wonder, Will he?, and then glide wet and hot across her graceful collarbone, down her chest, to her swollen breasts…

He was almost upon her.

“Hi, Kenzi,” he said from three feet behind her.

He heard her gasp, and she tossed a look over her shoulder. “No, you don’t!” she laughed. Like before, she darted to the side, but he was there.

And there.

And there!

Kenzi stumbled in confusion, but stayed on her feet, still running. He knew what she was wondering—how could he be in three places at the same time?

He would teach her the trick later, but now—

He waited, and she flitted to her right, away from one of the many Duncans that seemed to surround her. And right into his waiting arms.

“Hello, my darling,” he said, scooping her up into his arms and running towards the top of the hill, where a giant boulder lay half–buried in the soil.

Kenzi gasped a huge breath, her eyes locked on his in amazement as he carried her. Her heart, so relaxed during her run, now threatened to pound from her milky chest.

“How—?” she panted, not from exertion, but the excitement that he had captured her. She put her palms against his chest, pushing a little, but they both knew the chase was over. Her eyes shone in the moonlight.

“I have you, my darling,” he said, kissing her forehead as he slowed at the top of the hill. “You are mine.”

She shivered in his arms, and put hers around his neck, her hands fisting in his hair. “You don’t play fair,” she protested, resting her head on his broad chest.

“And I never will,” he said. “Not when it comes to capturing the girl of my dreams.”

She trembled again. “Promise?”


He reached the boulder at the top, sought the flattened part he knew was there, sat on it, nestling her into his lap. His land surrounded them; no one around for miles. No one to hear.

“Now what am I to do with my naughty little girl?” he wondered, looking sternly at her.

“Oooh,” she sighed, going limp under his darkening gaze. “Anything you want.”

Without warning, he flipped her over and threw her across his knees, her naked bottom upwards, her belly lying against his left leg, her heavy breasts hanging.

“What… what are you doing?” She half–giggled, half–trembled. But he could hear her heart race as he stroked his hand across the smooth skin of her buttocks, so he knew her fear was the kind she had sought from him.

“What happens to all naughty girls,” he said, deepening his voice, and she rewarded him with another shiver. He caressed her bottom more firmly.

“Will it hurt?”

“Do you want it to?”

She was silent a moment, then said in a small voice, “Yes.”


“Does that make me a slut?”

He bent forward and kissed her left ass cheek, then the right. He slid his tongue across both, then down the cleft between. He paused a moment at the tight rosette, gave it a flick with his tongue, and she jumped, then quivered like a trapped fawn.

“It makes you my slut,” he growled.

Buy Links:
Hooked yet?   Check out the cover of book two which just happens to be available today!
Author’s Bio

Corey Harper writes erotic romance fiction, mostly paranormal, all with M/f D/s spice. (Spanking may be included.) And always with a HEA (Happily Ever After).
He writes characters that lead with their hearts, think with their brains, and explore their passions with everything else.
And yes, he is a Dom.

To learn more about him, and why a man like him writes erotic romance stories, read his Smashwords interview at:

Character’s Perspective with Clare from C.A. Szarek’s Tartan

Hi! I’m Claire. I’m a normal chick. Texan by birth, I’m a romance novel addict who’s always been obsessed with Scotland. I finally saved up enough dough to visit the Highlands and ended up getting sent back in time.

Bad thing, right?

Not so much, since I met the man of my dreams and decided to stay! Now I’m a MacLeod.


What do you hope reader’s take away from this retelling of your story?

Claire looks thoughtful. That love is never wrong, no matter the obstacles that might be in the way.

What is one thing your storyteller got right?

Claire wears a cheeky grin.Um. That Duncan is, well, hawt.

What is one thing your storyteller misrepresented?

Misrepresented? Nah. C.A. is awesome, of course! Claire looks smug.

Excluding your own, what is your favorite book?

Hmmm, Ransom, by Julie Garwood. Pretty sure C.A. loves this one, too.

What would you have named your story?

Claire throws her head back and laughs. The same thing C.A. did. I told her that title, after all.

Were you reluctant to have your story told?

Nope. It’s not like anyone will believe it. Who things time travel is real, let alone Faery Princesses?

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

Claire tilts her head to one side.To not be so impulsive, even though Duncan loves that about me.

In what setting would you have preferred your story to have taken place?

I don’t see how it could’ve been told elsewhere. C.A. told my story as I told it to her. It was an accurate retelling of what happened.

Your storyteller told some pretty embarrassing tales about you. Is there any secrets you’d like to share about them?

She’s a huge geek. A Trekkie even. Claire winks.

What is your favorite chapter of your story?

I have two. Chapters 9 and 10. When you read it, you’ll know why.

If price was no consequence, what gift would you buy your love interest?

Well, it’s different here. Living in the past I mean. If I could bring the 21st century here I would love to buy him a laptop. Or a movie projector with an endless supply of movies. I think Duncan would be fascinated about our technology. When I talk about it, he says he can’t fathom it, and I wish I could show him.

Other than that, he has everything he wants and needs. One thing about this time, and the people I have grown to love. They’re content.

They work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, and I adore them.

What first attracted you to your love interest?

Claire laughs.Um. He’s hot. Gorgeous eyes. And his chest. Muscles.

What surprises you most about your love interest?

He’s gentle. Sweet and caring. Claire has a brilliant smile on her face.

 At what moment did you know you were in love?

Claire sighs dreamily.Honestly I’m not sure I can pinpoint it. He’s just…so Duncan. Perfect. It happened faster than I ever could have fathomed. Maybe when he looked at me the day we got married.

If you could watch your love interest’s childhood as a film, would you?

Absolutely. I would love to have seen him as what he’d call “a little lad.” But then again, Angus looks so much like Duncan, and his dad, Alex, I might be seeing him through Alex.Image


About The Author:

C.A. is originally from Ohio, but got to Texas as soon as she could. She is married and has a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice.

She works with kids when she’s not writing.

She’s always wanted to be a writer and is overjoyed to share her stories with the world.

To learn more, visit C.A. Szarek on her blog, on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreadsand website.

C.A. Szarek is also author of Collision Force, Chance Collision, and Sword’s Calland Love’s Call.

Excerpt 1:

“Who goes there?” A deep, accented voice made her jump.

Her MP3 player crashed to the sand, the wires from her headphones ripping over her shoulders as they flew away from her body, but she didn’t go after the devices.

Claire’s heart kicked into overdrive, and she shot her arm across her naked breasts. Plastered her palm over her bare sex.

“Okay, don’t like this dream anymore.” Her voice jumped up an octave.

Why can’t I wake up?

Maybe a touch of fright would make her wake the hell up.

“Ummm….hello?” Claire ventured even though her pulse pounded in her temples. She didn’t see the voice’s owner, but she was stuck now.

Not like I can run and hide.

She wasn’t fond of a stranger seeing her nude, even if gym time had given her a rockin’ body.

Claire smirked. Her sister would’ve declared her egotistical right then and there.

Three figures came into view, standing atop a grassy overhang and staring down at her. Two men and a boy.

“Lass?” One asked.


Okay, no more Scottish Highlander romance novels before bed for you, Claire McGowan. But at least she’d placed the accent.

All three were dressed in period clothing. Like—seventeen hundreds or something. The tallest one had a tartan kilt on.

The man who’d spoken was older, wearing a thick grey beard he was currently scratching, as if he was trying to figure her out.

Well, duh. Naked girl on the beach at the ass crack of dawn should do it every time.

The boy looked about ten. He scrambled down the incline, stopping about three feet from her and staring. Wide blue eyes. Dark, messy hair that needed a good cut.

Claire backed up, squeezing her eyes shut. “Seriously, wake up.” Though she should pat herself on the back for the vivid imagination—if she didn’t have to cover her tender parts—she would’ve so been on that.

This place looked and felt real.

“Are ye Fae?” The kid’s brogue was thick, but his voice was high, making him sound younger than she’d guessed.

“Wh-what?” Claire asked, taking another step back.

“Angus, hush.” The last man admonished. His voice was familiar; he’d been the one who’d called out first.

He jumped down to the beach with little effort.

Claire almost forgot to cover herself as she gazed up at him.

Had to be about six-five or six-six.

Definitely had a foot on her, for sure.

Blue eyes, like the kid. Long black hair that flowed in the wind. He was wearing a kilt, and had the same tartan pattern strewn across his body, shoulder to waist and held down with a belt, but no shirt beneath. A huge, defined pec peeked out and her stomach fluttered.

Good job, Claire. At least you dreamt up someone yummy.

The model on the cover of the book she’d been reading before bed had nothing on this guy.

“Lass? Are ye all right?” His voice was concerned, as was his expression. He spoke gently.


Way to go on the stutter, Clair-bear. Her sister’s nickname popped into her head with ease. It should’ve grounded her, but she still didn’t wake up.

“She talks funny, uncle!”

How can he tell?

She’d said two words, literally.

“Where am I?” Claire whispered. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach made her shift on her feet.

“Isle of Skye.” The boy jumped up and down. “We were supposed to go fishing. But I found ye, instead.”

“Hush, Angus MacLeod,” the man said, but there was amusement in his tone. However, he didn’t take his eyes off Claire.

A tremor slid down her spine when his gaze travelled her frame.

Still. Naked.

She wanted to sink into the sand, her earlier confidence about her body gone. Claire shivered, her teeth chattered.

“Jesu, lass. Yer freezin’.” The huge man unbelted the plaid from his waist and whipped it off his torso. It was a separate piece from his kilt, and now he stood before her bare chested. His accent was as thick as the boy’s, but she could make his words out clearer.

Sexy as hell.

“Yeah, kinda naked over here.” A nervous titter fell from her lips and made Claire wince.

“Is she Fae, uncle?” Angus asked.

“Ye’ve been spending too much time with my father. Da, stop clouding the lad’s head with faery tales,” the man called.

The old guy on the hill chuckled. “Och, then ye shouldna leave the lad with me when you go off.”

“Like I have a choice.”


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