So,
like always it’s coming close to release day for me, and with that there’s
excerpts.
Let’s introduce you to the alpha.
Eamon has lost everything in
his life. It’s not until his family forces him to go and close out his partner’s
estate that he meets a group of men who change his life, and one in particular
who opens his heart to love again.
Only there’s something not
quite right here. Once Eamon realizes what it is, will he still be willing to
stay?
Eamon Collins was in free-fall. His life was over in
all ways that mattered. His lover had died and he had no one to look after him.
Eamon needed that, to function properly. He couldn’t seem to figure out what to
do without Patrick.
He couldn’t live in their house anymore. That was a given. His months of
solitude and depression had proven that point. His friends and family—the ones
who were still on speaking terms with him—had packed him up and pretty much
locked him in his car and forced him to go on this holiday.
It wasn’t that bad. A few weeks
out west. That was what they told him—fresh air, blue skies, dry weather
would be good to clear his head, wake him up, and get him back into the land of
the living.
So, off he was to the property Patrick had left to him. Eamon hadn’t
even known about it when they were together, but then he hadn’t known anything
about the man’s family. Not in the ten years they had been together. Not since
his family had disowned him for being gay. They had kicked him out and burnt
all his possession on their front lawn.
That had been when he and Patrick were eighteen. That had been the true
beginning of them.
With a sigh that helped settle him back down, he turned off the radio
and hit play for his CD. He had just gone down the Pass, and the reception was
shit, and nothing but blacktop roads that weren’t meant to be shared with
trucks driving at 100 k’s-an-hour. He’d been here before. Patrick was a weekend
driver, and Eamon was indulgent.
Eamon smiled at the memories. They’d had so many good years together, so
many memories that they ate at Eamon’s heart. He still didn’t know if they made
him happy or sad. Still, he wasn’t sure if the pain would ever go away. Wasn’t
sure if he ever wanted it to.
“Turn left in one hundred meters.”
Eamon startled out of memories that he’d nearly made true there in the
car. For a moment, Patrick had been sitting next to him, chatting away in the
silence.
Running his fingers over his eyes, Eamon took note of where he was, then
nodded and went down the road to Oberon.
Eamon’s chest hurt the closer he got to his destination. He couldn’t
believe Pat owned property. More so, that he had and hadn’t said a word of it to Eamon. He thought the man
trusted him. And he believed it. You didn’t get through a relationship like
theirs without deep trust. Still, it hurt, not knowing this simple fact, when
he had been there for Patrick as his whole life tumbled down around him just
because of his sexual orientation. Then, he’d helped build a life from the
rubble, and trust, so he was able to create the family he had today.
There wasn’t anything Patrick couldn’t tell Eamon—nothing. So why was
this a secret? It wasn’t that there wasn’t anything important about the place,
which was a stupid conclusion a few people had wanted Eamon to believe. He
hadn’t. He saw nothing simple about a piece of land and a house that sat there
doing nothing year after year when you could simply sell the place. Yet,
Patrick hadn’t, and that was important. The land had to hold something deep
within him, so much that he would rather it rot away than salvage it, or sell
it. But what?
That question had been running through Eamon’s head since he read that
he now owned it. That he wasn’t allowed to sell it without actually going to the
property. But why? Why for fuck’s sake did Patrick want to rub in the salt of
his own death by making Eamon do this? What was so important that he had to
come out himself?
He knew there was only one way to find out. It had just taken his family
shoving him to take it.
He was getting close. Eamon could tell, because his heart was beating so
fast, he could feel it in his neck, pacing away, not wanting to give him a
minute. The music became white noise as each kilometer passed under the wheels.
His thoughts got funny, filling his mind with images after images of the man he
had loved. The one he’d grown up with, had become who he was today with.
He thought of the smile in Patrick’s eyes when the anger tried to lift
itself off him, but he wanted to hold onto that losing argument that had gotten
him in trouble to begin with, the tilt of his head when he read and the way he
sighed in happiness over something romantic. The…
Tears ran down Eamon’s face. His vision wasn’t compromised yet and he
was so close, he didn’t want to stop, so he let it happen, let his face dampen
from grief and his lips twitch as he smiled at memories he couldn’t stop.
He pulled up in front of a massive set of metal gates, fenced off on
both sides by red stone and then, as far as he could see, a set of untamed
fenced hedges. He was able to take a breath. Half of him wanted to relax here,
to wait a few hours before he went any further. The other half wanted
more—wanted him to open those gates and see what adventure was to be had.
That part of him finally won and bubbled up, taking over his very soul.
That part scared the absolute shit out of him.
Taking the envelope with all the documents he needed for the house,
Eamon fished out the set of keys. There were six, and one of them was clearly
for the thick chain that wrapped around the poles in the fence. Another he knew
was for the fence itself, the side panel, since it was an automatic-opening
fence.
The metal was stiff under Eamon’s fingers and the lock required some
muscle just to get the key into place. In addition, when he tried to get the
automatic gates to swing open, they refused. It seemed there wasn’t any life in
the gate, though he knew electricity ran through the property because he’d rung
up and made sure on one of his many stops out this way.
With a sigh, Eamon hoped like hell the thing didn’t need electricity to
open or he wasn’t getting inside the gates any time today. At least they were
old school electric gates—swinging inward, instead of sliding into the
brickwork.
An hour later,
he was sitting in his car, sweat dripping down his face and back, his shirt
stuck to him, and he needed water. He was guzzling down the bottle as he drove
up the driveway to the large low-lying house with a turn point driveway,
over-grown with weeds.
The house itself was the same as the outside. Its cream walls were
offset by dirt-crusted windows and potted plants that had grown wild. Standing
on the front step, looking out the way he came, Eamon felt the neglect of this
once brilliant house like a knife, even as it set off the masterpiece of a view
into the dips and valleys of the property he now owned, and off into the
darkness of Pine trees that bordered three sides of the property.
Inside, he took his breath. Its stale air and dust- covered floors lay a
barren home of neglect. Broken light came from wall after wall of windows that
surrounded the main area. He sensed the beauty if it when it was clean and
lived in, so open and inviting. At least he was sure it had been.
The trip around the house revealed that there were two levels to the
house. A large veranda lay under the second level, sheltering most of it from
the rain. Its thick posts held up the second floor, which consisted of a large
entertainment area off the thick stairs surrounded by bedrooms. A bathroom
ended the tour.
Back downstairs, a long corridor hidden by the grandness of the stairs
took Eamon further into the house. He saw a master bedroom with an ensuite
grand enough to put any Five-Star hotel out of pocket. There was also a view
that had Eamon’s full attention, and his understanding of why this room was
here.
A few other bedrooms, and a large study, with built-in book selves on
all walls, and one with the full-length window completed the rooms of the
house.
He found himself standing in the kitchen. Its steel and granite
furnishing were a cooking man’s dream, though it was the view out the window
over the sink that held Eamon as he let his heart beat to the grief that filled
him, and the unfairness of this beauty of a house that had been pushed aside
and left for dead. It was a shame.
First, he had to leave. He had to get a few things to tide him over for
the night and morning.
Taking Control of my
Werewolf by Bronwyn Heeley
Release date 15th of April
2014
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