Please join us in welcoming author Evelyn Elliott today, on the tour for her new novel, Bad Magic. Have a look at the exclusive (and sexy) excerpt she’s sharing with us today, and then be sure to click on the Rafflecopter widget below to enter for a chance to win an e-copy of the book.
About the Book
Title: Bad Magic
Series: Spell Slave: Book One
Categories: Bisexual, Fantasy, M/M Romance
Cover Artist: Christine Griffin
Blurb: Morality is relative. At least that’s what young sorcerer Regis Teller convinces himself. He’s done what he must to survive: working for a witch since he was nine, helping her throw the kingdom into anarchy, and taking his only comfort in her mysterious son, Crow. And soon, Regis is going to commit his first murder.
A do-gooder named Jonathan White has information the witch needs, and it’s Regis’s job to get that information and slit Jonathan’s throat. But then Regis actually meets Jonathan. And Jonathan is perfect—a hero with a passion for justice and little regard for civility.
Lucky for Regis, Jonathan has a weakness for attractive men. Lucky for Jonathan, Regis is fast developing a conscience and a heart. But for Regis, keeping both of them alive at their adventure’s end means breaking a magical oath and surviving his ruthless boss—all without telling Jonathan the truth. Falling in love is never easy, especially when everyone involved is lying through their teeth.
In the middle of the night, Regis awoke with a hand clamped over his mouth.
His entire body jerked out of reflex. A strong limb wrapped around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides. He blinked foggily, only half-awake. He could not, for the life of him, imagine why someone had woken him up or bothered to quiet him.
The palm was big. The body pressed against him was male. Whoever-it-was shifted. A mouth touched his neck. The arm around his waist drifted lower.
The inside of the barn was dim, lit only by scattered shafts of moonbeam. Jonathan had gone to sleep not far away, but if he remained there, Regis couldn’t see him through the darkness. It kicked his pulse up a few notches when he realized who his attacker might be.
It had been stupid to believe that Jonathan’s services would come for free.
Regis shifted, preparing to deliver a swift kick to the man’s shin, but the bastard followed the movement, tangling his legs around Regis’s. The unmistakable feeling of a man’s arousal pressed against him. Fury—so overwhelming he could barely breathe around it—filled his chest. He reached for his magic and prepared to throw his attacker off. Through the barn wall, if necessary.
Then the gagging hand moved away, and a voice spoke quietly in his ear. “I know you’re awake, sweet.”
A beat of silence.
“Crow,” Regis snarled, “I’m going to castrate you.”
Crow chuckled. “I just thought I’d pick up where we left off.”
The hand that had been gagging him tip-toed down his chest. Regis didn’t move, not an inch. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Good. I was looking for a different reaction.” Teasing fingers cupped him, then squeezed lightly. “Looks like I got it.”
Regis swallowed, eyes darting to where Jonathan might lie. Now that he was fully awake, he could catch glimpses of dark clothes among the hay, slits in the barn wall providing enough light to catch off of Jonathan’s belt buckle, the hilt of his sword. He didn’t seem to be moving. “This really isn’t—”
Jonathan mumbled in his sleep, rolling over. Regis stopped talking, barely daring to breathe. Crow drew teasing circles over Regis’s cock. Even through two layers of cloth, the touch felt good. Achingly good.
Once Jonathan quieted, Crow snickered. “I wonder if he’s a light sleeper.”
Regis tensed, not daring to speak. His breathing turned ragged, but he kept his mouth closed, jaw clenched tight. Crow stroked Regis’s navel with his thumb before easing his hand down into Regis’s pants, slipping inside. He ran one finger down Regis’s cock, and Regis bit back a moan. “Shall we find out?” Crow asked. He didn’t even bother to whisper this time. Regis let out a ragged noise, then clapped a hand over his own mouth. Shit.
He jerked silently, pushing against Crow’s grip—both the grip around his waist and the one lower down. It was fruitless; the constriction was as unyielding as iron. Crow rocked his hips against Regis’s ass, and Regis had to fight hard not to whine and whimper like a whore, caught between Crow’s deft hand and the hardness pressed against him. “I hate you,” Regis hissed between his fingers.
“Tell me to go away,” Crow whispered, “and I will.”
Fuck. Not far from them, Jonathan lay asleep, unaware of what was going on nearby. What if he woke? Or what if Chartreuse heard from outside?
And, hell, that shouldn’t have perked Regis’s interest, shouldn’t have made him rock back against Crow’s lap. He pressed the heel of his hand to his traitorous dick and reminded himself how easy it would be to wake Jonathan up. And then it hit him, a rush of dizziness, fear, and arousal. “All right, fine,” he muttered. “Fine, if you’re so intent on it.”
Crow laughed. “You’re getting off on this.”
“I’m getting off on this?” There was no disguising how hard Crow was.
“Mhm.” Clever fingers loosened Regis’s belt. Was it just him, or was the clink abnormally loud? “Let’s see how quiet you can keep,” Crow breathed in his ear. Regis shuddered, head rolling back on Crow’s shoulder.
Crow, the bastard, toyed with him, taking time to dance his fingertips across sensitive spots between strokes. The strokes themselves were inconsistent. It would be a slow crawl to the finish like this, though Regis had no doubt he would get there… eventually. He cursed. “Ah, ah, ah,” Crow said. “We’re being quiet. Remember?” He trailed his mouth from Regis’s ear to his shoulder, tongue and teeth teasing each spot that sent tingles down Regis’s spine. There were benefits to having a lover who knew him so well. Or, in this case, dangers.
Regis bit the inside of his cheek, determined not to lose this game. But it was difficult, especially when Crow began rocking against him, tiny unconscious movements that Crow himself didn’t seem aware of. It put ideas in his head. Ideas that, tempting as they were, couldn’t happen here.
Somehow his eyes found Jonathan. Sleeping, the man had an unguarded look, just like he’d had at the keep. A week ago, his mouth had been soft and warm, and for the smallest moment, he’d kissed back.
Crow relaxed his grip around Regis’s torso. He tugged Regis’s unlaced pants lower, to his knees, then pressed one spit-slicked finger inside. Regis stiffened. The idea of being fucked in this situation sent shivers down his spine. In his mind’s eye he could see himself splayed on the ground, Crow’s length easing inside, Crow’s wide hand muffling moans, Jonathan oblivious only a few feet away. He could see the look on Crow’s face, raw and hungry, lips pursed tight as he came undone.
But there were limits to the risks Regis was willing to take. He gripped Crow’s wrist. “Absolutely not,” he whispered fiercely.
Crow huffed. “You’re the pushiest man I’ve ever met.”
Regis had a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it disappeared when Crow rolled his fingertip against that sweet spot inside. Prostate, he thought inanely, visualizing one of Belcane’s anatomical books. He curled into himself, hissing a curse as quietly as he could. He shook his head vehemently. Sighing, Crow pulled his finger out.
Regis rolled over to face him. Crow blinked at him, and Regis reached between them, fumbling Crow’s belt open. “Oh,” Crow said, breathless. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Regis smiled, pleased. There was nothing quite so pleasing as getting Crow to stammer and shut up. He could talk and joke as he pleased, but to see his jaw flex as he bit down on a moan, his mouth fall open and then half close, eyes screwing shut…. Yeah, his expressions were the best. No noise, no, Crow was too good for that. Regis spat on his hand, then squeezed the base of Crow’s cock, slick heat traveling up halfway. Crow jerked, a half-stifled movement like he couldn’t stop it, desperate for more friction. With his other hand, Regis rubbed the head with his palm, and Crow moaned. Actually moaned this time.
“Hush, we’re being quiet,” Regis mocked.
Crow rolled his eyes. He began to touch Regis, long, slow strokes from base to tip. He rolled Regis’s balls in his hand. Regis buried a groan in Crow’s shoulder, and Crow’s hair tickled his face. He wasn’t going to last. Crow’s scent—clean skin and the spicy fragrance he wore behind his ears—elicited a conditioned response from him, rolled shudders down his spine and lit sparks low in his abdomen. This was what sex smelled like.
Somewhere behind Regis, Jonathan shifted. Suddenly, Crow tensed, his gaze flickering over Regis’s shoulder. Regis noticed but couldn’t bring himself to stop. He was so close to the edge he could taste it, the pleasure building, his body tightening. “What?” Regis said desperately. So close! He twisted his wrist, and Crow let out a loud and deliberate moan.
“I think—oh, oh yes—I think he’s awake,” Crow panted.
About the Author
At first glance, Evelyn Elliott seems like a perfectly normal person. Do not be deceived.
Her hobbies include watching grisly horror movies, torturing her characters, and tending to her flower garden. She enjoys long walks on the beach and collecting the souls of small children. Whenever she reads a book, she always roots for the villain.
Avoid her at all costs. Certainly do not find her on facebook or befriend her online. You have better things to do.
Follow the Tour
8-Apr: Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, BFD Book Blog
11-Apr: Nephy Hart, MM Good Book Reviews
12-Apr: Havan Fellows
13-Apr: Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, The Novel Approach
14-Apr: V’s Reads, Sinfully Addicted to All Male Romance
15-Apr: A.M. Leibowitz
18-Apr: Bayou Book Junkie, Alpha Book Club
19-Apr: Kirsty Loves Books
20-Apr: Prism Book Alliance, My Fiction Nook
21-Apr: Oh My Shelves