Saturday 12 April 2014

Let’s Get this Party Started

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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