Mom, Dad, Help! - I'm Mated to the Alien Alpha! Ziggi Moondust Collins is a manic pixie dream girl that went on a bender and never recovered. At least, that's what her bandmates think. Pink-haired with a moonbow on her butt, Ziggi is your average punk barista searching for meaning in suburbia. Too bad her artistic roommate Cyrus. He's experimenting on her, manipulating Ziggi's genome in order to accelerate humanity's evolutionary conga line. Oh yeah, and he's been at it for centuries, meddling with human biology so long the Sumerians started a religion after him. At least he makes a mean fettucine alfredo? After a concert goes sour, Ziggi and Cyrus blast off into space in Cyrus' VW Beetle when Ziggi tries to turn off the radio. Stranded on a spaceship suited for amphibians, not punks, Ziggi learns that her new tenant Cyrus, real name Lahmu, isn't remotely human! Gone are Lahmu's good looks, replaced by beautiful tentacles - he looks like a sexy sewer mutant! Lahmu is the heir to the Milky Way's dysfunctional overlords, the Anunnaki: shapeshifters who feed off information. In order to sexually mature, Lahmu has to shepherd humanity into his parent's galactic dictatorship via good old genetic manipulation - and taking Ziggi to bed! Galactic pirates, space rock bands, and tons of hot and heavy tension between an Alien Alpha and his Chosen Mate abound!
"You're full of shit, Ziggi. My new tatt doesn't look like text from a crappy printer. It's based on Otzi the Iceman's ink. This stuff has history."
I looked at the black bars on the back of Carlos Rivera's neck. All I could think was lame. "This is like a step above tribal tatts, is all I'm saying, my dude."
Carlos adjusted the volume on his bass. "Whatever. You have pink hair and a rainbow on your ass."
"Hey," I said. "My rainbow isn't a rainbow, it's a moonbow. That's why it's in black and white. Moondust is my middle name. Ziggi Moondust Collins. It has meaning, it's not a badly inked bar code!"
"Would you two shut it? I'm trying to get in the zone," Spike said. He twirled his drumsticks in the air.
I plugged my guitar into its amp. "Right." I turned to Carlos "Hotsauce" Rivera. "Forget what I said. Your new tatt is cool." (It wasn't.) "We good?"
Carlos nodded, wary. "Whatever. I guess."
On that discordant note, the Iguana Knees jammed.
Cyrus wandered in halfway through our set, smoking pungent weed in his mushroom shaped bong. This one smelled like a dank skunk. He scoured the floor of Carlos and Spike's garage. Cyrus found a rusty nail and a dented bottle cap.
"Would you guys mind if I kept these?" Cyrus yelled over the blare of my riff, pocketing his newfound treasures.
Carlos eyed Cyrus' toned arms. I wasn't exactly immune to them either.
"Sure thing, man," Spike shouted over my solo, making a V with his drumsticks. "Mi casa is your casa."
"Stop speaking Spanglish Spike, you're rage-murdering my ears," Carlos muttered, plucking at his bass.
"Shut up, Hotsauce," Spike laughed.
"Whatever, dude," Carlos sighed.
Cyrus fiddled with the bottle cap. "Thanks, most gracious of hosts. I'm just here to enjoy the ambience." Cyrus smiled his lazy smile and settled into the threadbare couch near the entrance. He closed his eyes and took a drag from his joint. Exhaling, he picked at a thread in the couch. "Music is like a flower, y'know? Petals of it unfold to engulf us, and soon, we are drowning in its liquidus, seeping nectar. The Rosarium Philosophorum of old, nigredo burnt into rubedo gold!"
Spike and I shared a look. Enamored, Carlos nodded. "Yeah, that's something like Otzi the Iceman would say. You can't tell me a bog body frozen for thousands of years wouldn't be a wise man, like a bona fide Dalai Lama or something."
"Or freezer burned," I muttered.
Carlos gave me the evil eye. I gave him the middle finger. As usual, we were fighting.
Set over, we packed up and parted ways. I ferried my stoned roommate back to our apartment, wondering the whole time if the tattoo on my ass really was just a rainbow.
At home, I floated through a sea of Cyrus' junk to my room, determined to pen the final lyrics to our new set. I was just reaching the bridge, where the suburban dad from our concept album commits suicide with a George Foreman grill in Loudoun County, one of those starched collar and chino clad multimillionaire Washingtonians in ugly outdated 90's era McMansions, when Cyrus' drilling from his makeshift studio broke my concentration yet again.
"Ugh." I crumpled up the eleventh version of my lyrics and tossed them into the wastebasket.
The drilling continued. I banged my head against the desk, wondering how I would ever sleep tonight with Cyrus working in a stoned haze on his newest art project.
I looked into the mirror hanging from my inspiration board and spoke to my baggy-eyed reflection, my bright pink bangs askew: "Get it together. You're days away from performing your new set. You're a broke musician. Do the thing broke musicians do and write a killer song."
Despite my best efforts, no inspiration came.
The drilling grew louder. The girl in the mirror was on the verge of breaking, ready to kick her roommate out, wondering why she had ever let him move in in the first place.
It began innocently enough. I was short on rent for my small two-bedroom in Bent Tree Apartments, and my old roommate had just shaved his head and joined one of those totally not legit completely white Hindu monasteries in Annandale without any ethnic people, just a bunch of kombucha drinking Hare Krishna weirdos, so I put up an ad on Craigslist for another occupant.
Cyrus was the first to respond: a tall, quiet nineteen year old prodigy with long, loose ringlets of cornsilk hair like something from a romance novel and skin like ice in shadow. I had initially liked him because he said he was an artist. It also helped that Cyrus, as I said, looked like something from a romance novel, one with like a millionaire playboy on the cover or like maybe a hot Viking warlord. Maybe that was kinda dumb, but that's what I instinctively thought when I first saw him in all his glorious hotness. Harlequin had, after all, stolen my high school years, besides the Beatniks and Edgar Allen Poe.
Cyrus had proven soft-spoken and charming when we met up in the local library. His fingers had been stained with paint and he was dressed in all white, down to his Doc Marten's. I thought his paint-spattered clothes an endearing quirk.
Things were roses for the first weeks - he kept to himself and his studio - but then I made the mistake of taking him to one of the Iguana Knees' after-parties, where Carlos, ever the Hotsauce, introduced Cyrus to weed.
From the moment Cyrus toked his first joint, he was hooked. The weed had a weird-ass manic effect: he scavenged for trash and channeled bursts of creativity into his found art. Me, it mellowed me out, but it turned Cyrus into a shinies-hoarding magpie. He would collect cast-off shoes from the gutter and cardboard from recycling bins, then go dumpster-diving for more materials. Come morning, the haphazard objects would be forged and soldered and sewn together into new creations and displayed in his studio at the Torpedo Factory in Old Town Alexandria where they would be sold for hundreds of dollars, even thousands sometimes. Somehow, even now at 19, he could afford rent at the collective art gallery. I could barely afford a hoagie at Wawa.
Katya is in love with Azovka, the Mistress of Copper Mountain. Katya's fiancee Danilo dares carve Azovka an impossible flower of stone. They witness the ruthlessness of the Romanovs and clutches of corrupt Bailiffs in the Ural Mountains, where Azovka's Copper Men have ruled since they were first mined out of Mount Azov. But when Azovka begins to turns to stone, Katya fears the worst - and that Danilo will follow Azovka to a Hell of malachite shadow. With Baba Yaga's guidance, and the magick in her veins, Katya must save them all! retelling of pavel bazhov's "the stone flower"
Three fated lovers: a shieldmaiden, a Troll Queen, and a Valkyrie. One price: the fate of all Midgard. Turiel is crown princess, but from the outlawed Northern Holds, bloodbound to Troll Queen Jarngrimr, and best friends with the stablelass Yolanda, her first love - until her poison kiss turned Yola into a Valkyrie, and whisks Yolanda from Turiel's grasp. Now, Turiel has been stolen into wily Queen Jarngrimr's realm, with only the goddess Skadhi and Yola - back from the dead! - to guide her. Lussi, the Snow King, craves a bride - and it is Dia's troth alone. Dia, the last blood mage from the line of the Isa, is all that is left of Turiel's legacy. Dia has been raised as Lussi's Magdalene - his ritual Bride - and ritual Slayer - for the past three years. Every Winter Solstice, Lussi can die, and Dia must kill him. But as Dia falls deeper into Lussi's sexy web - and in love - her heart is on the line! Other works and Ko-Fi: linktr.ee/avnelson
Death has a mate - a teenage girl, the Grim Reaper's Bride. All Callie has known is that someone watches her in the woods - Samael, the Grim Reaper. Drawn into his intoxicating web of desires, secrets, and shadows, and hating him with a burning passion - can these two unlikely heroes stop the Apocalypse? Or will Samael start it for love?
The Frost Demon Morozko, Prince of Russia's immortal land of Buyan, has waited ages for a mate. And she is Stravinksy's fabled Firebird - incarnated as an orphaned witch! Cast out by the King of the Ice Kingdom, Morozko wanders Buyan, a Miyazaki haven for cherti, nechist, and witches - but a dark curse plagues the land - Koschei the Deathless. Can this bastard prince and the young human girl Anya that conniving Baba Yaga gave Morozko to raise with his found family of cutthroat spirits stand a chance against the immortal sorcerer King Kaschei, who has trapped Anya's soul in the Deathless realms, in gardens of dead wives? Anya is burgeoning with power, living a double life between Cold War Russia and D.C., and coming into her own as a witch to rival Baba Yaga. When her newfound love for Morozko is at stake, she will risk it all to follow the darkly tempting Kaschei to the Deathless lands, face the travails that put all Russia in peril - and save Morozko, as much as he saves her. With epic love, sorcery, adventure, treachery, a Slavic inn for spirits, and plenty of blini warm by the fire, come read this daring journey, and find out if an immortal love can withstand death Himself!
He tipped his baseball cap. The stranger's grin revealed bits of crumbs. "And you are...?" I noticed the checkered scarf around his neck. "Hermes." "The brand?" "The man." He sent dancing fingers through the air in a snazzy salute. "G'morning, sweetheart. Loved the sandwich." "Apparently," I mumbled. "So, how did you get in? The doors are locked, and I didn't hear any breaking glass." I looked him up and down. "Get lost on the way to a toga party?" Maybe he was a crazy frat bro. "My life's a party - I bring it with me, or steal Dionysus' thunder." He sipped from a chipped coffee mug, then ah'ed appreciatively. "By Jove's hairy derriere, what a drink. Wine pales in comparison. To the gods of old, and young days long since gone." He wandered into my dining room. "We don't love them til they're gone." My eyes convulsed. "Sorry, but who did you say you were?" I looked at his hands. They were tapered like the fingers of an artist who smuggled on the side. His eyes bespoke whimsy. Looking at this stranger was, in fact, like taking the first, dangerous bite of a melty grilled cheese. "Hermes: the man, not the scarf," ___ My George Foreman grilled cheese was so unholily good, it summoned the Greek God Hermes! Now, I'm on an epic quest to save my father Prometheus from the clutches of Zeus, and restore Hestia's temple flame to Olympus with the fabled Prometheion flower my beloved father Prometheus spent his life hiding. But with the Titans plotting, Cronus rising, and Zeus as dastardly and cunning as ever, all enemies to Hermes and I, can the sexy Messenger God and I make it through, or will I become the ultimate Human Sacrifice?
She was a world-renowned divine doctor, the CEO of a publicly traded company, the most formidable female mercenary, and a top-tier tech genius. Marissa, a titan with a plethora of secret identities, had hidden her true stature to marry a seemingly impoverished young man. However, on the eve of their wedding, her fiance, who was actually the lost heir to a wealthy dynasty, called off the engagement and subjected her to degradation and mockery. Upon the revelation of her concealed identities, her ex-fiance was left stunned and desperately pleaded for her forgiveness. Standing protectively before Marissa, an incredibly influential and fearsome magnate declared, "This is my wife. Who would dare try to claim her?"
The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."
Joelle thought she could change Adrian's heart after three years of marriage, but she realized too late that it already belonged to another woman. "Give me a baby, and I'll set you free." The day Joelle went into labor, Adrian was traveling with his mistress on his private jet. "I don't care whom you love. My debt is paid. From now on, we have nothing to do with each other." Not long after Joelle left, Adrian found himself begging on his knees. "Please come back to me."
Elena, once a pampered heiress, suddenly lost everything when the real daughter framed her, her fiancé ridiculed her, and her adoptive parents threw her out. They all wanted to see her fall. But Elena unveiled her true identity: the heiress of a massive fortune, famed hacker, top jewelry designer, secret author, and gifted doctor. Horrified by her glorious comeback, her adoptive parents demanded half her newfound wealth. Elena exposed their cruelty and refused. Her ex pleaded for a second chance, but she scoffed, “Do you think you deserve it?” Then a powerful magnate gently proposed, “Marry me?”
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
Caught in a web of betrayal, Nicole's life shatters in a single evening when her mother-in-law, Veronica, sets her up in an elaborate scheme. Blindsided, Nicole faces her husband Taylor's cold rage as he casts her out of his life and home, accusing her of infidelity and theft. As she tries to defend herself, her best friend, Sarah, adds another blow by denying their loyalty. "Please, Taylor, you have to believe me!" Nicole pleads, her voice breaking, but his icy response is a dagger to her heart. "I don't hate you, Nicole," he sneers. "I despise you." When Nicole reveals she's pregnant, she hopes for compassion, but it only fuels Veronica's determination to rid the family of her. After signing the divorce papers, a dejected Nicole wanders alone, where a brutal attack leaves her bleeding, helpless, and desperate to protect her unborn child. Six years later, Nicole returns from the ashes to inflict seven times the pains upon those who humiliated her and left her to die. "I'll make them pay so dearly that they'd regret ever been born!" She declares. This is a story of romance and revenge you don't want to miss!