Archive - Ashavan Doyon

Published on: March 27, 2017

Chapter 19 -- The One That Feels

And we're back on schedule! Huzzah!

Thommas has found and joined with his mate, Nem, the Prince of Zaharoth, but he still has oaths that bind him with the power of the Realm. Oaths to find Jordan. Oaths to see Jordan and Brian reunited in the Real. The only problem? Jordan is beginning to fray and decay—a mad and tormented, beautiful young man who is being gifted to the scheming Rakibak, the Lady's chamberlain and first adviser.

Can Thommas keep his promise? Will the legacy of Guardian win out over the Lady's hatred for the Traitor of Garuth? Find out in Chapter 19 of The One That Feels.

Missing out? The story is all here, try it from the beginning!

Chapter 19
I stood before the gates of the palace. There were no guards. They’d not been needed since the Guardian... since I placed the protections on this realm. I closed my eyes and pressed a hand against the gates. The natives of Garuth watched. Everyone knew the palace was impenetrable. And yet there I was, my hand upon the gates. Futile. Goblins pointed at me and laughed; pixies flitted about. A grim ogre called me a name best not repeated. But I stood, my hand upon the gate and I spoke to it.

They gasped as the troll I’d bound into the gate to protect the palace stepped out of the stone. This one was a creature not of water but of stone and air and a life beat that was the fire of molten rock. It towered above me, its step shaking the realm, looked down upon me and roared.

The crowd fled in terror. Some, no doubt, remembered the legend that towered above them. But this one, this troll of the true blood of that race, he stared down at me and nodded once. Then he retreated back into the wall, sliding into the stone as if it was the very air itself. The gates creaked, a line that was not there before ran down the wall from top to bottom, and the massive portal swung open, just wide enough, just long enough, to admit me. And then the gates slammed closed with an ominous clang.

Two men worth fighting for

A lonely Aidan, a confused Steven, and against all hope, a jealous Sammy. Torn between romance and an impossible dream.

Today I’m celebrating the rerelease of Loving Aidan. For an author to have their first novel go out of print is a really hard thing, and I’m so pleased that I’m able to bring back not just story, but also the ones that follow it.

As the little snippet suggests, the story places an out an proud Aidan in a conundrum between Steven, a blue-eyed Adonis who is figuring his life out, and Sammy, the roommate he’s been pining for since they met.

When the story was first released, I shared a short extra with readers—the first meeting between Aidan and Sammy. I think that scene is an important one, but it didn’t fit into the story until over halfway in, and by then it gets resolved with a sentence or two. I’d like to share that with readers again, and hope that it can frame the story, from the abuse that Aidan has received for all his years at school to his attachment to Sammy from the start.

Roommates—a Loving Aidan short
Aidan turned onto the narrow service road that led to the dorm. He pulled up near the building and onto the grass. This early there weren’t many students about yet. Aidan stepped out of the car, wincing a little at the sudden heat. He was dressed as he always did in a long sleeve shirt and a buttoned waistcoat. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and lightly dabbed at the sweat that had immediately broken out on his forehead.

“Oooh. Hey, guys, here he is. Our resident piss-ant fag.”

Aidan turned and gave the line of lounging young men a glance. He conceded only a single raised eyebrow as he passed them by, ignoring the ongoing catcalls. He should report them. But nothing was ever done about it. Instead, he entered the small residential office at the side of the building. A student asked his room number, and more numbly than really warranted at this early hour offered him his key. He took it and looked at the label. Samuel Riley.

“This isn’t mine,” he said to one of the students handing out keys.

The perky young woman glanced at it quickly. “Oh, sorry. That’s your roommate’s key.” She ruffled through the box. “Ah, here it is. Sorry about that,” she said, taking the key back from him and handing him another.

“Thanks,” he muttered, and turned to leave, barreling into a very tall young man. He looked up and all he could think of was dark. The man’s skin was charcoal black, and slick from the heat. Aidan stammered a quick apology automatically.

“Ain’t no skin off my teeth,” said the man with a smile, his cheeks showing deep dimples.

Aidan was sure his heart was going to stop, and he quickly looked at the ground to hide the red in his even as he hastened his way to the door. He was hit immediately with another catcall. A row of young men stood idly by cars still stuffed with boxes. The staff would help people later on as more keys were picked up, and they were waiting, as they always did. Most of them wouldn’t carry a single box of their own.

Aidan did not glare, though he wanted to. Instead he went to his car and pulled out the first box.

“Showing off that ass? You maybe want som—” the young man yelped suddenly.

Aidan turned to see the man he’d run into in the office staring down the row of young men.

“Have a problem with him?” asked the man.

“Come on, Sammy, kid’s a fag. Look at him!”

And Sammy looked. Aidan was being given a thorough once over. Sammy chuckled, showing his dimples again and slapped the other man on the shoulder. “Don’t know what you’re worried about. His eyes are on me.” Sammy stripped off his shirt, stuffing it into a back pocket where it hung loosely against his leg. “See?”

“Sammy, he’s looking at you!”

And Aidan was. His eyes were locked on Sammy, on perfectly chiseled abs, gazing across the broad, smooth chest.
“Has taste,” said Sammy with a grin, showing dimples again. “Clearly you lot of cowards got nothin’ to worry about.”
Sammy walked away from the row of young men and stepped up to Aidan. “Need some help?” he asked.

Numbly, Aidan nodded.

Sammy smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and took the box from his hands. “Let’s get these boxes upstairs.”

Aidan gulped and softly murmured a thank you.

“Ain’t no problem, roommie.”

Aidan’s eyes widened. Sammy. Samuel Riley. Dear God, this was his roommate.

Aidan lives in his books and his writing. I think that’s something that a lot of us can relate to. Just for a moment, join him, step away from the books. Live with him. Love with him. Maybe you’ll fall in love yourself, just a little. It's not everyday you have two men worth fighting for. (Steven’s a bit of a heartbreaker, everyone loves him).

Loving Aidan is published by Purple Horn Press. It was originally released in 2013 by Torquere Press. You can find it here:

Purple Horn Press
Amazon

Published on: March 13, 2017

Chapter 18 -- The One That Feels

At long last, Chapter 18 of The One That Feels is here!

A blissful wedding night has led to Nem becoming more adventurous, more seductive and, importantly, more comfortable in his relationship with Thommas. But the specter of the mission remains. When Iptak returns with information, will it spell disaster for their newfound happiness?

Find out, in Chapter 18 of The One That Feels!

Missed out? Start the story at the beginning. (don't forget to click the read more link!)

Chapter 18
I woke, exhausted, head buried in a pillow. My arm searched the bed for my mate, but Nem had gone. It was this realization more than anything that woke me. Waking and finding him gone. I groaned as my eyes adjusted to the light that filtered in through the windows. I shifted in the bed, pushing and pulling and shifting pillows until I was upright and seated. Our clothes were still there, mine in a pile on the floor, Nem’s neatly arranged on the back of a chair.

I took a long deep breath and called out. “Nem?”

The door to the living area where we’d had our ceremony opened, and Nem stepped into the door frame, leaning casually against it. My breath caught as I looked at him, wearing only a narrow bit of silk that covered his privates and hugged tightly to his ass. His hair had been pulled free from the braids, and it hung loose around his face. He smiled at me and mouthed the words “I love you” before moving to the bed and sitting on the edge. He stroked my face gently and then leaned over to kiss me on the forehead.

February ARDOR and Misc Stuff

So I have this lovely cover ready for the February issue of ARDOR.

That's all that's ready. A multitude of craziness has overtaken me, and while I had dim hopes of cranking everything out at the last minute, I just couldn't do it.

Among the other victims? My serial fiction, which shall have to wait until next week for posting (sorry guys) unless I manage to crank THAT out tomorrow before I leave for the Dreamspinner Author Workshop.

I'm going to send an issue of ARDOR briefs instead, and the February issue will just come out a bit late. Here's the positive... are you listening? If you are, you're going to luck out. If you've signed up for ARDOR by the end of the day today, February 28, you'll get info about receiving my new short, American Pride, as a special thank you for keeping up with my craziness.

It's a great story, and my subscribers have been waiting for it for a while. I can't wait for them to get to meet Dusty!

I'll be back after the Dreamspinner Workshop to talk more about my news and the events there, and hopefully by the end of next week February's issue will finally be up on the website.

Published on: February 12, 2017

Chapter 17 - The One That Feels

I've been buried by politics. Yuck. Trying to unbury myself and proud to present Chapter 17 of The One That Feels. If you've been reading, you've probably waited anxiously for this chapter. Nem and Thommas have just made good on the promise spoken at the bridge to enter Garuth... which means there are steamy times in their future. Like immediately in their future. Like if you want to read the hot sexy steamy stuff, it's in this chapter. This one, right here.

If you haven't been reading, as tempting as it may be to skip to the steamy stuff, I'd suggest starting with Chapter 1. For real. Sure you may not need the early chapters to make sense of them having sex. But when you get to Chapter 18, you're going to be really confused if you don't start at the beginning.

February's ARDOR (my newsletter) will be coming out soon. Be sure not to miss it! To make sure, I suggest signing up for the newsletter, which gets you access to ARDOR Briefs, which show up in the alternate months and aren't available at all to non-subscribers. As always, the full newsletter is posted in beautiful pdf format on the ARDOR page.

And now... the steamy stuff:

Chapter 17
The glow of the circle faded and I had to fight to recognize anything beyond the slim body that I held so carefully against my own. Nem’s head rested gently against my chest, his arms around me, his hands on my back. He was trembling.

“Nem?”

“I’m ready,” he choked out softly.

“Nem, it’s not like that.”

“You said… it wouldn’t be soft or gentle, that you would…”

“That’s had you afraid?”

Nem nodded against my chest.

“Shh,” I said, kissing his forehead, mindful of the great antlers rising from them. “It’s not what I meant, not the way you mean it.”

“It’s not?” he asked, the words coming out in a nervous sputter.

“No.” I pulled back just enough to look down at him, even as he nervously glanced away. “Look at me.”

He looked up, that silver fire subdued as his eyes swirled with dusky grays.

“I love you.”

He trembled and there was a flash of that gorgeous light behind the gray.

“Let me show you?” I asked, stroking the hairline at his forehead, past the elegant rising crown of his antlers, and lifting loose strands of liquid silver hair to tuck them back behind the curved point of his ear. He whimpered softly, and I carefully squatted and then lifted him into my arms, carrying him through the threshold to the bedroom. I set him down and stripped off my tailed jacket, letting it fall to the floor.

Waking Up in a Dystopia

I was struck today by how much I feel like I’m living in a short story I read as a child. The Children’s Story, by James Clavell.

Written in response to his daughter coming home from school as a child so proud to have learned the Pledge of Allegiance, but without any understanding of what the words meant, the story illustrates with devastating clarity how quickly cherished ideals can be broken down.

It takes place in what seems to be an elementary school classroom. America has been taken over. The teacher is replaced by someone who is to instruct the youth, and in the course of about twenty-five minutes, this new teacher manages to deconstruct the students’ beliefs to an extent that they end the story cutting the American flag into pieces, because it belongs to all of them, so they should be able to share it.

This story cut me to my core as a child, because the words and tools used by the teacher to change the minds and hearts of the children would work. I see them working. I feel like America is that classroom, and we’re being taught that America means something else.

And just like those children, many of us are believing it. Enough to cut the flag into pieces. Enough to slice up our country into a mockery of what I was taught it was supposed to mean.

In many ways The Children’s Story shook me more than the dystopias of my college days: Brave New World, The Handmaids Tale, We, 1984. More troubling because all of those seemed unlikely and far away. Too implausible. The Children’s Story shook me because I felt like it could happen.

Right now, I’m forced to wonder—is it already?

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