A hilarious and heart-warming romp filled with magic and true romance.
After the Lady sends Nox to rescue a female destined to be his mate from the forbidden realm of Anina, Nox wonders if the creature is a baby Swamp Troll. The unusual being, covered in slime and hurling obscenities at him and Allure the Fair turns out to be NYC Detective Sky Barrymore.
Faced with the challenge to romance the angry spitfire, Nox and Allure must forget magyck and rely on their charm to win her love or lose the chance of having a life mate forever.
Reader Advisory: This Paranormal Romance contains a feisty New York Detective trapped in a strange world with two deliciously wicked Fae, intent on luring her into their bed.
PUBLISHER NOTE: M/M, Ménage, M/F/M. 36,834 words
Sitting in the forest to trap a Troll or a Time Nymph was not Nox’s idea of a perfect way to find a mate. In fact, this female could be a diversion. Rules of magyck did not apply in a forbidden realm, where the gods placed all the strange beings incapable of following rules. Never mind, he had faith the Lady would guide his hand soon enough. He had waited four hundred summers, so what was another few hours or weeks. At home in Other World, he had much to occupy his days and nights. He smiled thinking of the males he planned to invite for a weekend of unbridled lust.
“Get your mind on the job at hand.” Allure’s voice stirred in his head. “And, remember. Do not use magyck in her presence. I fear she will go quite mad again.”
Nox chuckled. I am dressed as a Nomag to soothe her mind. I am hardly going to spread my wings and fly away now, am I?
Leaves rustled and branches cracked. Nox lifted his attention to the edge of the clearing. His muscles tensed in anticipation. One hand went to the knife in his belt. Without magyck, he would at least have to act like a Nomag in her presence. His eyes widened in disbelief. The creature staggering out of the forest was no female. He flared his nostrils then sucked in air to catch a whiff of the beast’s scent. Gods, she had come from the bowels of hell. Rank, putrid odors accosted his nose, and his stomach rolled. He sniffed again recognizing the smell of the creature crashing toward him. Allure, is that what attacked you? That is not a Time Nymph, that my friend is an infant Bog Troll.
“Hmm, she does look much smaller than I recall. She is female by the size of her breasts but very small for a Troll. Mayhap she was abandoned by her tribe?”
Nox examined the Troll with interest. Adorned with a liberal smearing of mud, its hair stood out from a pink and red spotted face. Green eyes flashed, and the angry little thing barred its teeth at him. His gaze traveled down the filthy slime covered body to shapely legs with the most amazing irregular shaped pale spots. He could not remember seeing a Troll with such dainty feet or red toenails. Allure, you did not mention she was one of the spotted variety. I believe they are quite rare.
“I did not notice her spots. I was too busy ducking her attack. She is the ugliest creature I have ever seen, even for a Bog Troll.”
She carries a foul odor and getting close is going to be difficult, I can feel her agitation. Nox chanced a glance up at Allure. What do you suggest?
“Feed her but not the hot chicken. Trolls are very partial to ham.”
Nox reached into the saddlebags and cast a spell to produce a small leg of ham. He waved the meat at the female and spoke in Trollonese. “Come here, little one. I will not hurt you. Have you lost your mother?”
A croaky voice came from the creature in a gasp. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying. Do you speak English?”
Nox blinked. English? The words he recognized as Nomag speech although somewhat different. He dropped the ham into his saddlebag and inclined his head. “Aye. It would seem I do.”
The Troll remained some distance away, her gaze darting from one place to the next as if assessing a suitable escape route. The smell of stagnant water wafted toward him and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He caught a glimpse of annoyance in her eyes and forced a smile. “Have you lost your mother?”
“My mother? Have you lost your frickin’ mind?” She stomped toward him. “Cut the crap and tell me where I am. I’m a police officer.” She poked one finger on a metal brooch on her belt as if it should impress him of her status. “Detective Barrymore NYPD.”