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The lovely ali_wilde and I have a short story in the upcoming anthology Silver Presents... Love is Love due out February 9th.
Our story is called Solitude Disrupted.
Never mind what the cat dragged in, look at what the storm washed up.
Who would have thought one day would make such a difference to a solitary life? Heath, a holidaymaker in Fiji, loses his fishing boat in a storm one evening and washes up at hermit Quinn's water villa just off a private island. Quinn's peaceful existence ends when he discovers Heath asleep on his bed. As much as Quinn tries to ignore Heath, Heath invades his privacy at every point. What's a hermit, with previously only a cat for company, to do?
"Let's see what damage the storm did to our home, huh, Griff?"
Griffin padded over and jumped onto Quinn's shoulder with the skill of a Cirque du Soleil acrobat. Quinn waded with ease through the waist high water while Griffin purred in his ear. "You should be swimming, you lazy creature."
A quick meow in Quinn's ear told him exactly what Griffin thought of that idea. Quinn laughed. "I thought you guys loved to swim."
Griffin gave a funny sort of half meow. Obviously, just because he was a Bengal cat and loved to swim, he wasn't going to. Too early? Too lazy? Too full from a delicious breakfast? Whatever the reason, he was content on Quinn's shoulder, his snow leopard coat shining in the early morning sun.
Quinn loved the cat. They gave each other the space they needed, didn't ask anything of the other they weren't willing to give in return, and trusted each other not to spill secrets. It was a shame, and typical of society, the same couldn't be said for many of the people Quinn knew.
As soon as they were in range, Griffin jumped onto the deck of the villa and strutted away to ensure his territory was safe.
"Don't worry; I'll unload the boat myself." Quinn tied the boat to one of the posts. He climbed the few steps, his lounge pants clinging to his legs and dripping onto the deck. Thumbs hooked under the waistband, he started to push the wet fabric over his hips and froze. There was blood on the wooden steps leading to the bedroom. Quinn knew it hadn't been there when he'd left. Someone had invaded his space, his sanctuary.
Reaching up into the rafters, he pulled a speargun from its hiding place. Quinn didn't want any trouble, but he sure as hell would be armed and ready for it. With a deep breath, he stepped into the villa, braced for anything.
Griffin was sitting on the bed looking at the interloper. Whatever Quinn was bracing for, it was not finding a man naked on his bed. He took a moment to drink in the sight—and what a sight it was! A young man with black hair, perfectly tanned body, and sporting an impressive case of morning wood. The sight made Quinn's cock twitch in longing; it'd been awhile since he'd seen a naked man in the flesh. Internet porn just wasn't the same.
Quinn shook his head, snapping out of the hypnotic draw of the hot naked guy. The guy had invaded his house and… by the looks of the open can of Coke and Ritz Crackers, made himself at home. The first aid kit was also out and in disarray. He picked his favorite sarong off the floor. The rusty color of dried blood marred it.
Speargun trained on the stranger, Quinn threw the ruined garment at the man's head.
"Get up! And get up slowly!"
Wishing everyone all the best for the new year!