I had meant for Soul Eater to be a short story, yeah I know. When I got the idea, I figured I’d write 10k or so.
I had this image of a guy standing on a cliff one cold autumn night, the wind tearing at his hair, and in his hand, he held a skull. I pictured flickering candles and a ghost emerging with a roar.
And once I had that, I realised 10k wouldn’t get me far. I couldn’t leave Thaddeus standing on the cliff, and what about the ghost? Did he know he was a ghost? What was his relationship to Thad? Did he want to be there?
So I ended up with a failure of a wizard who accidentally called a ghost, and ghost who hates wizards. Then there is the whole story about how Sandy, the ghost, died in the first place, and soon we had a mystery on our hands.
Sandy might dislike wizards, but what is he to do when his mate is one? And once he realises Thaddeus is a cop working a serial killer case, his interest is piqued.
Sandulf Hunter howled. Indescribable pain had stolen his mind and a terrible realization of no longer being sane haunted his heart. Fire licked at every part of the body he no longer had. Fear mixed with hope of this being the end made him scream.
Little by little, a world formed around him. He didn’t know how long he’d been trapped in the darkness, fighting to get out, but now he could see.
It was night, and there were candles…
Memories threatened to drown him, and he snarled. Standing, he shifted into his human form. The wizard had forced him into his wolf form and had kept him there no matter how much he’d struggled to shift back.
A whimper had him whirling around. There, by one of the candles, was a man. He had his back to Sandy, swaying where he stood. Sandy didn’t recognize him, but it didn’t matter. All wizards needed to die.
His teeth grew, claws formed at his fingertips, and he relished having the power to change at will again. He leaped, ready to snap the man’s slender neck.
Right as he was about to make contact, the man turned. His chestnut hair falling into his eyes, his face contorted in pain.
Sandy didn’t care. He opened his mouth to tear out the man’s larynx and placed his clawed hands on his shoulders, only to fall through. The impact never came, and one confusing second later, he was sinking his teeth into thin air.
The man fell to his knees, screaming.
Had he bitten him? There was no taste of blood. He pulled in a breath, trying to scent blood—there was no blood, no fresh blood at least. Those candles smelled disgusting.
He scented the man again—divine. No!
The world spun around him. Clouds twirled on the night sky. His blood was on fire, but not in a painful way anymore. Instead, he was pulsating with need. He needed the wizard; the wizard was his.
But all wizards must die.
It didn’t matter what he smelled like. It didn’t matter who he was. Sandy pulled in another breath and groaned. His. The murderous little wizard was his. His cock grew hard and his teeth ached with the need to mark him.
The man cradled his head and sobbed.
What the fuck?
The wizard flew to his feet, his mouth agape as he stared at Sandy. He shook his head. “No.” The shaking increased. “No. It’s not true. It’s all a dream.” He looked around as if he hoped he was elsewhere. It had Sandy’s brain short circuiting.
He wanted the wizard dead; he wanted the wizard to never leave his side. He wanted the wizard gone, but he didn’t like it when it looked like he wanted to be elsewhere.
How had they gotten here?
Sandy could have sworn he’d been underground the last time he’d been conscious. Had this wizard stolen him from the other wizard while he’d been out cold? But could he have carried him all the way outdoors?
Sandy must outweigh the man by quite a lot, and while looks could be deceiving, he didn’t look very strong.
Memories of a narrow stair and dark tunnels flashed before his eyes. The wizard was on the small side, Sandy was not. He was big for a shifter. Maybe he’d used some spell to make him lighter…or smaller. He glanced down at himself and frowned at the black T-shirt. Hadn’t he been wearing a shirt, a charcoal dress shirt?
Studying the wizard with narrowed eyes, he tried to remember. He’d been on a date, hadn’t he? But not with the wizard. No, he’d have known if he’d met his mate on a blind date—right, it had been a blind date. Ric had set it up. He couldn’t remember who he was supposed to meet, though.
“Who are you?” Sandy crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the wizard. His mate couldn’t be a wizard.
A quick look around told him they were alone. He couldn’t see anyone and there were no scents other than the repulsive candles. Hadn’t there been another man?
“Thaddeus Ezax.” Thaddeus followed his gaze and looked around the circle too, then he waved his hand and extinguished the candles.
Detective Thaddeus Ezax is in over his head. He’s the only wizard in Rockshade’s Paranormal Investigations Department, and it was his name that got him the job. The Ezaxs are known as some of the most powerful wizards in the world, but Thaddeus isn’t your average Ezaxs. Is it any wonder his family shuns him?
When a kidnapping case is dropped into his lap, Thaddeus must act fast. While most five-year-olds can cast a location spell, Thaddeus can’t and is forced to get creative. When he finds himself in possession of a black market werewolf skull with a ghost trapped inside, accidentally releases the spirit, and somehow forms a connection with it, things get even crazier.
Sandulf Hunter doesn’t remember dying, but he remembers the last thing he saw before everything went black—a wizard. All wizards must die! The only problem is, the wizard standing next to him smells too damned good, so good Sandy thinks he might have to keep him.
And since wherever Thaddeus goes, Sandulf finds himself yanked along, he might not have a choice in the matter anyway.