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Announcement: Kestrel’s Talon, by Bey Deckard

Kestrel's TalonQSFer Bey Deckard has a new MMM Fantasy book out:

Following the Prentish/Nemarri war, Kes is rejected by his homeland under the guise of religious purity laws. Though he’s spared execution, the proud Nemarri’s fate is only marginally more merciful than death when he is sold into sexual slavery at a prosperous pleasure house.

Despite his stoic endurance, Kes knows he’s reaching his breaking point, but there is nothing he can do—there is no path to freedom in the Holy Prentish Empire, only a lifetime of humiliating servitude.

That is, until a beautiful young slave and his formidable master approach Kes in the marketplace and make an astonishing offer to take him home with them. The only problem: “home” is the accursed Horthmont Castle from the scare-stories of Kes’s childhood.

Thrown into a world of living myth, powerful magic, and ancient gods, Kes learns the secrets kept hidden by Horthmont’s thick blackstone walls. There he discovers something he thought he’d never know again: hope for the future.

The Stonewatchers, Book One


Excerpt

Kes tensed as the man with the soiled shirt approached. Though it might mean respite from the provocative pose that he was forced to keep for long stretches, the thought of coupling with someone so unabashedly filthy turned his stomach. If the customer was that dirty on the outside, Kes could only guess what horrors awaited him beneath the begrimed tunic and muddied trousers. However, like the good little slave that he was, he only smiled brightly when the man came to a stop in front of him and turned around obediently when he was asked to. Kes shifted his hips slightly so that the fringes of sparkling paste diamonds circling his waist swished and slid becomingly over his bare skin, a few of the cold strands coming to rest in the cleft between the rounded, muscular cheeks of his best asset. When he faced forward again, the diamond strands tinkled quietly against the wrought-silver cage that kept his second-best asset bound tight.

“Kestrel here is very clean,” said Banto, tapping Kes lightly on his backside. “And he has a very talented tongue… speaking from experience.” This last was delivered with a grin and an exaggerated wink.

It was a complete fabrication, of course. None of the slave handlers could use what they sold for their own pleasure. It just wasn’t done. Surely the merchant ship captain—for that was what his grimy cap proclaimed—knew this. However, Banto’s line was met with a grunt and a nod of interest.

When the man was given permission to touch Kes, he immediately jammed a thick, dirty finger into Kes’s mouth to stroke his tongue, as if to somehow test Banto’s high claims for himself. It was all that Kes could do not to gag in horror and disgust at the foul taste and the stink, redolent of rotten fish, which assailed him. He blinked rapidly a few times to dry his watering eyes as the merchant captain nodded to himself, seeming satisfied. However, when Banto held firm on Kes’s rate, the man just shrugged and wandered away, seeking out a cheaper diversion.

Kes wiped his mouth quickly on his wrist and shot a baleful look at Banto.

“At least get a guarantee of some money before you let a filthy bastard like that touch me,” he whispered with a scowl.

“Shut your goddamn mouth and get that look off your face,” growled Banto. “You haven’t brung in any business yet today. If some bastard wanted you to clean his shit-covered backside with your tongue, I’d let him. So’s long he paid.”

Kes bit back an angry retort and schooled his features. Banto was in fact one of the better handlers; he always tried to keep Kes from the more demeaning work, and it was in Kes’s best interest to mollify him.

“I’m sorry, Banto. Please forgive me.”

In response, Banto just nodded and went back to watching the crowd.

Kes shook his hips to straighten out the diamond strands before he resumed his pose, but when he lifted his gaze, he froze with a sharp intake of breath. Across the small square was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. Staring at Kes with obvious interest was a young man with creamy pale skin and hair like burnished copper. The stranger smiled, and without looking away, he casually but deliberately turned to the side, as if wanting to show Kes his body in profile.

Startled, Kes jerked out of his trance, face aflame, and quickly averted his eyes. However, the image of the young man was seared into his brain. The long lithe legs, rounded backside… the graceful curve of his back. Kes could almost feel the way his hands would span the narrow, supple waist. The jewel-like eyes with dark lashes. Freckles across the bridge of his nose. Lips that were a dusky blush against his pale skin… the same colour as the head of the cock hanging unfettered between his thighs.

Naked.

That meant the boy was a slave, just like he was. Kes had no business looking at someone else’s property.

It’s not as if you could ever have him, you imbecile.


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Author Bio

Born and raised in a small coastal town in northern Québec, Bey spent his early summers on his uncle’s boat and running wild on the beaches of the surrounding islands, lighting fires, and building huts out of driftwood and fishermen’s nets. As an adult, he eventually made his way to university and earned a degree in Art History with a strong focus on Anthropology. Primarily a portrait painter and graphic artist, Bey sat down one day and decided to write about the two things that he felt most passionate about: sex and the sea. Bey currently lives in the wilds of Montréal with his best buddy, a spotty pit bull named Murphy.

You can find out more about Bey on his WebsiteFacebook or Goodreads.

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