Something Else
By Nia Farrell
Synopsis
Grace Murphy is the
local psychic medium who dreams of her soulmates –Nico White, a bisexual
American Indian musician, and J.T. Santiago, an ex-Navy SEAL and former cage
fighter with PTSD on top of the guilt that he’s still carrying from other
lifetimes that they’ve shared. J.T. is a
dominant, but he’s never had a male submissive and Grace and Nico are a package
deal. It’s a learning curve for all of
them, with J.T.’s initiation into MMF and MM relations and Grace’s introduction
to BDSM. With Grace’s yin, J.T’s yang,
and Nico’s center balance, the three of them come together as far as J.T.’s
PTSD will allow, but forging a future means healing the past, however painful
it might be, in an interracial paranormal MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance.
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Excerpt
With the appearance of him,
I feel the shift in my own energy, like he’s a generator crystal that’s
amplified every sense, common or otherwise. My zipped perceptions are razor
sharp, dead on accurate, and delivered with lightning speed. When half hour
readings go to twenty minutes, I start giving discounts and the line never
ends, not until the ten minute warning that the fair doors will be closing
soon.
At five p.m., one of
the New Age shop assistants starts walking the aisles, clearing the crowd and
the room’s energy with a ringing pair of Tibetan tingshas. I smile my thanks
when she manages to herd the last hopeful from my queue. Smile bigger yet when
I see that my Latino angel has returned.
“Hi,” I say, sounding
rather shy for someone who’s had no problem all day, delving deep into other
people’s lives and issues.
His lips tuck upward,
and he nods his head toward the back of the room. “I promised my cousin I’d
help her. Lena says it’ll take an hour.”
Lena. Pretty face,
rocking body, bedroom hair, tats. Amazing silver jewelry and unique leather
goods. “I like her.” Actually, I envy her. I have gifts, but Lena has the
skills to make her visions a reality. It’s what sets her stuff apart.
“She’s got to get home.
Sick kid,” he explains. “Daddy’s challenged enough when Ariana’s a healthy
two-year-old. I’ll be free once Lena’s on the road. Will you be around? I can
meet you somewhere. We could grab a bite to eat. Talk. If not tonight, then
later.”
Déjà vu. Six months
ago, I’d said nearly the same things to Nico.
I suggest O’Toole’s,
two blocks east. “Do you know it?”
He nods grudgingly,
clearly not a fan of the Irish pub. Sensitive to his inner turmoil, I offer an
alternative. “Or Jerry’s?” It’s a local bar and grill, edgier than sports and
just shy of biker bar.
God, his smile. I feel
like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
“Jerry’s,” he says. “In
an hour or so.”
I’m still processing
when Nico comes to check on me. He’s moved our vending van and already has his
stuff loaded, and I’ve done almost squat.
“Hey.” He touches me,
sliding his darker fingers up my ivory arms until they reach my elbows. When
his thumbs start rubbing circles in the bend of each arm, my root chakra kicks
into overdrive, and my fucking knees grow weak.
“He’s here,” I whisper,
damn close to trembling. “He’s meeting us at Jerry’s after six. Help me pack so
we can go get a table.”
That time of night, on
a Saturday, there’s usually a line out the door one or two blocks long. I know
I have spiritual helping hands at work when we get there and are seated at a
booth in the quieter back with only a fifteen minute wait.
I’ve said nothing more
to Nico about Lena’s cousin. It occurs to me that I never asked and he never
offered his name. We’ll all know each other soon enough, and way beyond a
first-name basis.
Just thinking about
what’s coming makes my panties wet enough to stick my dress to the worn wooden
bench beneath me.
Our waitress, Cherry,
slides coasters on the table and sets down our drinks, a bottle of pseudo beer
for Nico and a glass of orange juice for me. I don’t want anything, either
brewed from nature or crafted in a chemistry lab, to dull my senses tonight. No
alcohol. No soda. Juice and water it is.
A menu sits to my
right, waiting for him to show. Across from me, Nico scans both sides of the
laminated page and sets it down, his decision already made. I take longer,
wrestling with my baser meat-loving self when I know I should shun it, but
really, where’s the fun in that? I turned vegan once in high school. It lasted
all of two weeks, but I stayed quasi-vegetarian for three years. Dairy, eggs,
and seafood gave me the protein I craved, but it took cutting out the warm
blooded meat to raise my vibration and get it to where I needed it to be.
Because that’s when the dreams started. Visions of the past lives we’ve shared.
Memories of the three of us.
Poised on the brink of
our next go-round, I have to wonder why we keep coming back like this, like
frigging musketeers. Is it because we’re stronger together, or dysfunctional
apart? Jesus, I’d like to think I don’t need them, but I know how much more,
how much stronger I am since meeting Nico. My body thrums to think of what it
will be like to have both of them with me.
In me.
Fuck.
Meet the Author
Nia Farrell has been
writing for pleasure since junior high.
Now that she writes about pleasure, she can share the fantasy worlds she
visits and introduce readers to characters who remain with her long after their
tales are told.
When crafting a story,
Nia draws upon a rich diversity of life experiences, which include
singer/songwriter, prize winning needle artist, private pilot, Reiki
Master/Teacher, crystal healer, psychic fair reader, jewelry maker, physician’s
assistant, factory worker, waitress, genealogist, period reenactor, and
children’s author. If this life isn’t
enough, there are plenty of others to choose from. Otherwise, she devotes hours of research to
subjects outside her realm, determined that her stories ring true.
Nia lives on a farm in
Southern Illinois (far, far from Chicago, in the heart of “Little Egypt”). A seventh generation Illinoisan, she is descended
from Mayflower Pilgrims, American soldiers from the Revolutionary War to World
War II, and Scottish nobility. She
enjoys playing in the past and visits Ren fairs and historical reenactments in
period attire, sharing her love of history and her passion for music. While her husband and two grown daughters may
only read her nonfiction work, she appreciates their support in pursuing her
dreams, one of which is being published in erotic romance.
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