by SJ Himes
The Necromancer’s Dilemma
The Beacon Hill Sorcerer
Book Two
By SJ Himes
The Necromancer’s Dilemma
Book Two of The Beacon Hill Sorcerer
Copyright © 2016 by SJ Himes
All rights reserved.
Edited by: Miranda Vescio
Cover design by Garrett Leigh
http://www.blackjazzdesign.com
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If you are reading a pirated version or a copy of this ebook that you did not purchase yourself, or was not gifted/loaned to you through allowable and legal means, please keep in mind you have effectively stolen this ebook. That means you have taken money directly from the author, making it harder for the author to continue to write.
Please purchase your own copy, and remember to review.
SJ Himes
http://www.sjhimes.com
WARNING: The supernatural beings in this book don’t need to worry about STDs or pregnancy, so they don’t use condoms. Please don’t take the sex scenes in this book as my endorsement of unprotected sex. Please be smart and use protection, get tested, and be honest with those you’re involved with, and ask for the same courtesy. Not using protection is a personal choice best made fully informed and consenting from all parties. Be safe, and have fun.Book contains gore, violence, scary monsters, scary as fuck humans, and an extreme amount of snark. Male/male sexual content.
Contents
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Sneak Preview
Bonus Story
Necromancer’s Birthday Surprise
Dedication
A huge thank you to my fans and readers. This series means a lot to me, and the fact that so many people love it too makes me beyond happy. I took a chance, and entered the realm of urban fantasy. I love the urban fantasy genre, and when combined with m/m, it becomes the pinnacle of awesome (for me.)
Thank you to my betas:
Morningstar
Miranda
Michelle
Luna
Heather
Vicki
Ladies, you are the best support system an author can have. Thank you for wisdom, perspectives, and your honest, sincere love for my boys. This book is nothing without you all.
Thank you to my editor:
Miranda Vescio—you dropped everything for me. Thank you.
Thank you to Garret Leigh for the cover art. You captured Simeon in all his redheaded glory.
And thanks again to Miranda, you helped me find the core of this book, and the best tagline EVER.
NOTE: Some of the places in this book are real. I kept the geography of Boston as intact as I could, though some places are either wholly fictitious or changed for the story. Cobblestone streets exist in Beacon Hill, though they are precious few these days.
Author’s Note
As I was finishing this book, the mass shooting at the nightclub Pulse occurred in Orlando, FL, on 6/12/16. Like many members of the LBGT+ community, I was left horrified, grief-stricken, and shattered.
A hate crime and terrorist act in one horrible, sickening display of bigotry and violence, and it destroyed lives. Is still destroying lives, as dead men and women are outed, survivors face discrimination, and useless “reflections and prayers” are offered by the same people who seek to discriminate against the LGBT+ community.
I am still shattered. A part of me broke. I feel broken.
I knew no one there. None of my loved ones were involved. Pulse was a place I’d seen from a distance from my few visits to Orlando, and the thought was always there to go one day. That distance doesn’t matter to my soul or my heart or the pain I’m feeling, and I cannot fathom the misery, the agony, or the never-ending grief felt by the survivors and the loved ones of the fallen. The pain I feel is inconsequential in the towering shadow of their grief.
There are gaping holes now in lives. Spaces in the world once held by people, real and actual. Gay, lesbian, every shade of the rainbow in between, even family members there to support loved ones.
My previous dedication stands, but the ending of this book is dedicated to everyone who had their Happy Ever After stolen from them by hatred and homophobia.
Love is always stronger than hate.
Chapter One
Morning Mishaps
The tattoo was smooth under his tongue, Simeon’s skin cool but warming the longer Angel played. Shadows and the quiet of pre-dawn covered their bed, but Angel could see the glow of emeralds from his lover’s eyes, and hear Simeon growl, his chest reverberating when Angel got to one peaked nipple, laving at it before sucking the bud into his mouth. Angel bit, gentle, and Simeon bucked his hips, his thick cock slapping against his stone-hard abs. Angel grinned, and moved on to the next tattoo, a design that made no sense to Angel at all. It was haphazard, made of faded lines in a dark, mysterious blue-ish green. Made from woad, and applied to Simeon’s skin over four hundred years prior.
Angel slid over Simeon, dragging his cock over the chiseled marble that passed as his lover’s upper thighs, until he hovered chest to chest, groin to groin, Simeon’s hands gripping his waist. Angel leaned down, Simeon lifting to meet him, and their lips barely touched, smooth and soft. Taking his time, Angel kissed Simeon with patient intent, content to explore the lips of the man he loved, his heart beating hard and fast for the both of them. Simeon caressed his back, his powerful hands bringing Angel closer, holding him safe and inciting his desire all at once.
Simeon moved, and Angel found himself on his back, Simeon between his thighs. He lifted his hips in silent invitation, grabbing his knees. A lubed finger entered him with care, opening him. Angel sighed into Simeon’s mouth, their tongues entwining for a languid, delicious moment. Angel floated in a haze of pleasure and want, a pleasure that pained him as deeply as it set him free, and he keened a low whine when Simeon slid his thick cock deep inside of his ass, seating himself with a cool and smooth glide. Simeon broke their kiss, faces centimeters apart, gazes locked. Hips lifting in a controlled and devastating undulation, Simeon set the pace, each withdrawal heartbreaking, every stroke back in destructive. Angel was destroyed, mind and body broken down into tiny pieces that Simeon rearranged into a vibrating masterpiece of pleasure.
“I love you,” Simeon breathed out, so quiet Angel felt more than heard the words. Angel wrapped his arms around Simeon’s neck, and he clung, sobbing at each perfec
tly aimed stroke of hard flesh over his prostate and the sting of stretched muscles.
“I…,” Angel gasped, sweat and tears running down his temples, “I love …you too.”
It was too much. The devotion and desire in those ageless eyes, the way Simeon took him apart and left him a ruin of agonized pleasure. His back arched, an orgasm slamming down his spine and erupting in his groin, cum wetting the hairsbreadth of space between their bodies. Angel yelled out his release, and Simeon gripped him tighter, hips pumping in a punishing tempo. A strong hand grabbed the back of his head, and Angel’s face was pressed to Simeon’s shoulder, and he bit, hard. There was no thought, no process or plan—Simeon’s blood filled his mouth as Simeon’s release filled his ass.
Spicy, cool, with overtones of rich chocolate, his lover’s blood filled his senses and electrified his taste buds. Angel took a mouthful as another peak was reached, and he jerked and shuddered beneath Simeon. He came again, his body over-sensitized, and Simeon held him so tight that he lost what breath he had left.
He lost time. His arms and legs buzzed in the far reaches of his nervous system, his skin sizzled and the air that seeped into his shocked lungs snapped and chilled. He felt hot and cold and hovered on the edge of unconsciousness, eyes blurry. He was able to see the vague outline of Simeon moving beside him, and he twitched at the wet pass of a washcloth over his stomach and chest. He tried to move away from the damp cold between his legs and under his ass, but his body gave up.
A deep rumble that sounded like a chuckle met his ears, and Angel managed a smile at his lover’s satisfaction. He was gathered close, Simeon’s body still warm from their lovemaking, and Angel burrowed into his arms. A blanket was pulled over his shoulders, and Angel fell back asleep to Simeon’s whispered endearments.
The cell alarm shrieked at him, and Angel slapped it into silence where it skittered across his nightstand. Groaning, Angel lifted his head and came face to face with the demon warming his chest.
Eroch chirped at him, emerald green wings flapping in surprise, and Angel dropped his head back to his pillow. Eroch, the former demon that once tried to kill him, gave him a glare from daffodil-hued eyes before crawling off his chest and snuggling down onto Simeon’s side of the bed. Which was empty, again.
“How hard is it for him to stay in bed until I wake up? Just once I’d like a morning snuggle,” Angel grumbled, and Eroch chirruped back in a commiserating tone. The little dragon let a puff of smoke out of his nose, and smacked one of his leathery wings at Simeon’s pillow. Angel chuckled, and leaned over to pet his familiar. “Aw, c’mon now. He isn’t that bad. I was just complaining. He stopped stealing the blankets from you, yeah?”
Angel scratched the top of Eroch’s head, enjoying the hard, pebbly sensation of the dragon’s scaled hide. Eroch had a line of ridges over each eye, and he stretched out his long neck, pushing up against Angel’s hand. Eroch purred, sounding much like a cat. Eroch slept with them most nights, curled up at Angel’s back or warming Simeon’s feet under the blankets. Simeon tended to steal the blankets, yanking it up away from the bottom of the bed, exposing Eroch to the chill during the night. Eroch hated it, and Simeon had awakened several times to a cranky dragon chewing on his toes.
Simeon was a vampire, and while his sleeping patterns varied, his lover had adapted to Angel’s sleeping habits. Which meant erratic and unreliable, especially if he was working a case with BPD or a private consultation. Technically, Simeon didn’t need to sleep. Angel had learned that the older a vampire got, the more resistant he became to the lethargy that came over younger, less powerful vampires during the daytime. Simeon said he still felt the urge to rest during the day, but it was no hardship for him to adapt, to be awake during daylight hours.
Angel sat up, and slid from the king-size bed, fishing around for his bathrobe. He found it hanging off the end of the bed, tangled up in one of Simeon’s shirts. They hadn’t taken the time to put away their clothes after they got in last night, and their bedroom activities had gone on for hours.
A crash sounded through the apartment, and Angel jumped before throwing his robe over his naked ass and running out his bedroom door. A scream destroyed the relative quiet, and Angel’s heart jumped to his throat. Daniel was screaming, his cries full of pain. Bare feet slapping the hardwood floors, he ran the short distance between his bedroom and the living room, and turned to look into the kitchen through the brick arch that separated the two rooms.
Daniel was swearing and shrieking, his right hand a ruin of flesh and steam. The old kettle that used to belong to Grandma Salvatore was spilling its steaming contents across the hardwood floor, the metal container scorching the floor as it rolled and spun. Magic stunk up the room, sulfur and ozone making Angel gasp and cough. Isaac perched on the island counter, inching away from the boiling hot puddle, his bare feet inches from the disaster. Angel pushed out his will, and swept the residual magic from the room, stifling whatever caused the kettle to erupt. Isaac staggered in his attempt to escape the water, and Angel spared his brother a glance to make sure he was unharmed.
“Ahh!” Daniel screamed, falling back on the counter, holding his right wrist in his left hand. Angel’s stomach roiled at the sight of his apprentice’s hand. “Angel!”
“Fuck, don’t move,” Angel swore. The puddle was still boiling even as it spread, and steam rose to cloud the air. Isaac was in the way, and Angel couldn’t get down on that side of the island without landing in the hot water that spread under the island and across the room. Isaac was going to get burned if he didn’t move. “Isaac, get out of the way. Crawl over the island if you have to.”
Isaac for once didn’t argue, his concerned expression and the way he grimaced at Daniel’s screams making it clear his brother was more worried about how badly injured Daniel was than sniping back at his big brother. Isaac slid his ass over the island, and jumped down the other side. Angel jumped over the puddle, and grabbed Daniel, dragging him to the sink and away from the danger ruining his floor.
Daniel’s hand was destroyed. Daniel shrieked again when Angel took his wrist, and the agony in his apprentice’s voice decided Angel’s mind—he reached up and using their bond as apprentice and master, knocked Daniel unconscious.
Using the cold water was out—a burn this severe would lead to more damage if he held it under the icy water in the building pipes. Winter in Boston meant city water was artic temperatures.
Daniel slumped, and Angel pushed on him, using his weight to keep Daniel braced upright between him and the counter. “Isaac! Is Simeon here?”
“Yeah, he’s…”
“I’m here, a ghra,” Simeon said, and Angel was beyond relieved. He looked over his shoulder, and Simeon was entering the kitchen. Simeon grabbed Isaac and yanked his little brother away from the water into the living room, then Simeon leapt the ten feet over the spill to join Angel at the sink. “Let me help you. Tell me what needs doing.”
“I was going to cool his hand in the water, but it’s too severe,” Angel said, holding the unconscious boy’s hand away from his body. “We need to get him to the couch. I have to see how bad this is. We may be going to the hospital.”
Simeon nodded, and with a graceful swoop, took Daniel in his arms and leapt back across the length of the kitchen to land next to Isaac in the living room. Angel grimaced, took one look at the curdling puddle that was hot enough to lift the varnish off the floor, and jumped up on the island. He walked over it, jumping down the far side, barely missing the leading edge of the mess.
“Isaac, I need you to contain that mess. Strip the causal magic from it, and cool it down.”
“What?” Isaac stuttered, unable to take his eyes from Daniel’s destroyed hand. Simeon set the boy gently on the couch, and Angel knelt on the floor next to him. Simeon moved away, giving him room to work.
“You’re a fire mage, dammit! Absorb the heat and the magic keeping it that damn hot,
and clean it up! No arguments!” Angel had no patience for Isaac’s hesitancy to use magic—something careless happened in the kitchen, and Daniel paid the price.
The entire back of the boy’s hand was split open by the intense heat, the skin white and thick, the flesh beneath cooked by the magic spike that turned the kettle and its contents into a kitchen supernova. The heat curled in his fingers, and the flesh was weeping fluids. Blisters distorted the edges of the worst of it, the flesh red and warped all the way up the back of his hand to his wrist. The curling of the hand was so severe he couldn’t see how badly Daniel’s palm was injured.
“Isaac, never mind, I need you here.” A burn this bad was not life threatening—not yet—Daniel was going into shock, but he wasn’t hovering on the edge of death, so Angel was unable to heal him. This injury was caused by intense and powerful heat—and so was under the purview of any practitioner with fire affinity. “You need to heal this.”
“I’m not a healer!” Isaac gasped out, but he came anyway. Angel grabbed his brother and yanked him down so they were both kneeling by Daniel’s hand. Angel held Daniel’s arm aloft, and put his other on Isaac’s shoulder.
“Isaac, all you need to do is settle into your inner sight, look at Daniel’s hand, and call to the heat in the injuries. The actual temperature has nothing to do with healing—this is a mental exercise that relies on how your brain interprets and processes the injury in his hand. It was caused by heat, and you can reverse the damage,” Angel instructed. He squeezed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder when a wave of uncertainty crossed his features. “No room for doubt. I taught you how to heal fire and heat based injuries before you even got your driver’s license, so don’t lie to yourself and think you can’t do this.”
“How… his hand…how can I fix that?” Isaac whispered, looking sick.
