It’s not all that I thought it would be. My fear back then were the usual: would anyone like it, would anyone hate it, would I be able to write another one. It turned out that a lot of people like it and still like it and I was able to come up with new stories. Not just new stories, I came up with two other new series while still developing the elves’ world. I introduced myself to a kind of romance that I hadn’t considered writing before (m/m) but I find that I’m rather enjoying. I finally cashed in on some of the many fantasies that I had back when I was a teenager dreaming about my favorite rock star. I got to finally write about elves, my favorite fantasy race. I got to write my take on witches and shifters. Fun stuff.

Now I have different fears. As is the case with so many things in life, it’s a ‘careful what you wish for’ scenario. I wanted to write for a living and now I have that chance. I’m not supporting myself and my family fully, but I’m halfway there. Now, of course, I actually have to write. I’ve got to keep it up. I not only feel the need to think up brand new characters, I’m still playing with the old ones. Heaven Sent ended up being nine books in the original arc, and I’m adding another now plus planning a sequel series. The elves’ sixth book is my next project. It’s the end of the arc that I have planned, but I don’t rule out the possibility of revisiting the world. The Leashed series has just reached a plateau but I’ve got more planned for Meg, Michael and Rudy. But I can’t just lose myself in these alternate worlds. I’ve still got to live in this world. I still get distracted. I get tired. The family wants me to check in with them now and again. Besides, if I don’t check into the real world once and awhile, I’ll lose touch with it completely and my stories do draw on the real stuff from time to time.

So, I’m finding my balance. Wish me luck.

**************************

Free stories by Jet Mykles

I’ve come back around to a story that involves building an entirely different world. It didn’t really hit me until recently, but before my latest project, I hadn’t built a full world since the Dark Elves. The Leashed world is pretty much modern day with a few changes so that doesn’t count. Heaven Sent is based on the real world, so that doesn’t count.

For the elves, I had to come up with an entirely different way that things worked. There was magic and a medieval sort of setting not to mention a race of elves that lived underground and never saw the sun. So that took some adjustment, to say the least. But it turned out okay.

Now I’m dealing in another fantasy world. This one’s closer to steampunk. I won’t claim to be a huge follower of steampunk so it’s certainly my own version of things. There is technology but it’s more circa the 1800s. Modes of transportation are mainly trains and horses, although I think there may be some rudimentary automobiles. There is magic. One of my main characters is a divinely blessed judge. When in his judgment trance, he can sense truth and lies. So he serves as judge and jury in one. Another key element to my story is a combination drug and spell called ‘hextasy’. When you take it, the sex is ramped up to amazing levels but you can only be satisfied by the one you most desire. Anyone else doesn’t qualify. It can kill you. Thus, one of the bases of my story.

It’s fun (thank god!) but it’s probably going to be long. I’m at 20K now and I might be a third of the way through it. I’m not sure. The story and the characters keep on changing on me. Not drastically–well, mostly–but enough to keep altering things. I got a whole new character in the mix who wasn’t supposed to be have but a bit part but… well… he reminds me of Luc from Heaven Sent. He all of a sudden presented himself and said “hey, didn’t you know that I…” <<sigh>> add to it that the cps have fallen for him and there you go.

So anyway, the new story is currently called Judgment but that’ll likely change pretty soon.  The cps pointed out that it was very reminiscent of a Heaven Sent title so it might get confusing. I might end up calling it “Sursein Judgment” or just “Sursein” after the god that blessed the judge character mentioned above. We’ll see.

I liked answering so much, I thought I’d share here too.

I don’t really think about it in terms of tricks or anything. I think of it in terms of characters. Each person is unique and each couple is unique. I figure out pretty quickly what turns my characters on and why they’re attracted to the other. Then I use that. For me, that manages to always keep it fresh. To use the Heaven Sent boys as examples, Darien looks at sex from a different angle than Johnnie, and not just because he ends up being a bottom. He’d far prefer being caught than doing the stalking and we all know Johnnie much prefers the hunt. But even Darien and Tyler are different and they both started off het and got convinced that gay was the way to go. They think differently, so they act differently, so the sex is different. At least, that’s how I’ve always looked at it.

Even when it’s kind of the “same scene”–eg sex in a bed or in an alley–the circumstances are invariably different. Where were they before this? Have they slept together yet? Is this one of their first time? Is it day or night? Are there other people in the “house”? Even little things like is the bed made or is the window open can make a scene that’s pretty much the same as another into a unique thing.

Even in the few times that I did come up with the scene first–as in, “oh man, I want to write a scene using that toy!” (yes, it’s happened)–I immediately think of what kind of person would want to use the thing. What happened to give them the kink? Or was it a new thing that just kind of landed in their lap? Is their chosen partner for or against? Expecting it or surprised? Again, it goes back to the characters where all I said above applies.

Buy it at Loose Id

For those who’ve been waiting for an m/m relationship in the elves’ world, your wait is over. It’s not ALL m/m, but Kinig, the main character, is gay. It’s not ALL m/m, but there’s a healthy portion of it.

BLURB:

Coming soon.

*******************************
©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Rhicard knocked, and the door was opened by a youth. Kinig caught his breath. Yes, all of the elves were stunning, but this one… He stood perhaps a hand shorter than Kinig, with a rounder face than any of the others Kinig had encountered. Not round by human standards, but a softness of curves that gave him a young, vaguely feminine look. Expressive silver eyes twinkled under finely arched white brows, assessing Kinig even as he was assessed. The frank look forced Kinig to reevaluate his initial impression of youth. The thick white silk of his hair was unbound, falling heavily down his bare back and over one shoulder, tucked behind delicately pointed ears, both of which were pierced with silver all along the edge to the tip. Short white trousers were gathered just below his knees and tied low at his hips. No footwear to hide at least three sparkling silver rings around delicate toes. Kinig had never beheld another male wearing so much jewelry.

“You would be Kinig,” he said in a marvelously musical tenor. He stepped back and drew his free arm back in a dramatic sweep. “Please, enter.”

Kinig glanced at Rhicard, who nodded. Kinig obeyed. The room was sparsely furnished, with everything from the narrow tables to the two couches and chairs hugging the walls. This left the bare floor of the center of the room completely empty. As the door was closed behind him, Kinig noted drums of various sizes sitting on the floor, a lute on the table, a strange-looking stringed instrument on one couch, and a number of wind instruments hanging within a cabinet fastened to the wall.

Rhicard spoke from just behind his left shoulder. “Kinig, this is Fallil. Fallil, as you may have guessed, is an entertainer.”

His gaze was drawn to the smaller man. “Entertainer?” Not bard?

The delightful burble of Fallil’s laughter settled over them as he waved them further into the room. “Bard, dancer, actor — I do it all. I’ve sought to fascinate and entertain most of my life.”

And succeeded marvelously, for all Kinig could see. Certainly his own attention was captivated by the slim man who busily rearranged the instruments lying about, clearing the couch. Although somewhat androgynous, there was no doubting he was male. His chest was slim, but the muscles were well defined, tapering in to a narrow waist and a sweet, round little bottom that seemed to defy gravity within his trousers.

Rhicard tapped Kinig’s shoulder, regaining his attention. “This is where I leave you.” Grinning, he nodded toward Fallil. “Fallil is your sponsor. Savous thought, since you are both musicians, you’d have some basis in common. Also, other than perhaps two or three others alive, Fallil knows more about our history than anyone. And his manner of relating what he knows is a lot more fun than most of the rest of us.”

Kinig laughed at the teasing note in Rhicard’s voice.

Fallil appeared beside them to smile up at Rhicard. “You flatter me.”

Rhicard brushed a fond, familiar hand down the other man’s bare shoulder. “Not a bit.”

Kinig blinked, wondering what, if anything, he should read into that touch. Most likely, nothing. He had to remember that the raedjour were very sensual, tactile beings. He’d seen this watching them during the talks with the baron, knowing they restrained themselves due to the situation. Here, there was no reason for restraint. He was in a different world.

Rhicard’s attention was on him again. “I’ll see you soon, Kinig.” Then to Fallil, “Send word if you need me.”

“Only then?” Fallil called after him as he closed the door, smiling. That same smile turned to Kinig. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? You’ve had a long trip.”

He knew that he should be, but he was far too excited to think of something like food. “I’m a little thirsty.”

“Of course you are.” Elegant black hands reached for Kinig’s lute. “May I?”

Enchanted by this gorgeous, very polite creature, Kinig handed over his prized possession.

Fallil handled it with appropriate care. “Set your bag down and, please, sit.”

Kinig did as he was told, settling on a couch as Fallil laid the lute case on the table and opened it. He drew out the instrument and studied it with a critical eye. Kinig watched closely. The lute had been his grandfather’s. It was old but had been lovingly taken care of both by him and his mother’s father. Fallil stroked the neck, inspected the belly and frets, and carefully plucked each string to hear its sound.

Finally, he nodded, laying the instrument down atop its case. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

He turned toward a side cabinet that held a tray with a pitcher and matching goblets. “Do you play anything else?”

“I play a little harp, but I’m not much practiced.”

Pouring a cup, Fallil glanced at a medium-sized harp in the corner. “Perhaps we can change that.” He tossed a blinding smile over his shoulder. “Eh?”

Was he blushing? Kinig wouldn’t have thought he was capable anymore, not since losing his innocence to a young guardsman many cycles ago. “I’d like that.”

Fallil crossed the room to hold out the small goblet to Kinig. “Now, what has Rhicard told you?”

“That you’re to be my sponsor.”

“Is that all?”

“He explained that it was necessary because not all of the raedjour agree with my presence.”

Fallil nodded, folding gracefully onto the couch beside Kinig. “Yes. But there’s more to it than that.” He rested his arm on the back of the couch, bent at the elbow to prop his temple on his palm. “How much do you know about our society, in relation to humans?”

Kinig sipped the light, fruity wine rather than drink in the shimmer of candlelight on bare onyx skin. “I know that you welcome human women to join you. That you have a spell you can cast to change them into one of you. I know you’re fertile with only one woman ever and that that match is called a truematch. In the past, you kidnapped human women and kept them against their will, but the rhaeja has banned this practice.”

“You know much.” A heavy cascade of smooth, snowy hair bisected Fallil’s chest, a few shining strands hooking around an erect nipple. “Please continue.”

Kinig swallowed a large gulp of wine. “It’s said that there are no other women among you but the humans you converted, but people don’t know whether to believe that or not.”

“No?”

“No.” Kinig shifted, all too aware of the bright silver eyes fastened on him.

“What about human men?”

Kinig shifted in his seat, the soft shirt underneath his jacket suddenly chafing the skin of his chest. “In your history, you killed human men for sport. You allowed very few to pass through the Dark Forest ever, and those only if they stayed on the known roads. Even now, it’s dangerous for a man to travel the forest, even with a sanctioned caravan.”

Through this, Fallil continued to study him, a small smile curving generous lips. Long black fingers toyed with a frayed seam on his trousers. “Yet you asked to come here.”

Kinig’s cock pulsed in time with his heart. He could rarely contain himself in the presence of handsome human men. Seated in private with this exotically beautiful creature, he had no prayer of controlling himself. “I did.”

“May I ask why?”

“I want to learn more about you.”

“So you can write songs about us and become famous?”

Kinig smiled, nervous. “Well, that too. But I am curious.”

“And you realized coming here might be dangerous.”

“I was willing to take that chance.”

Fallil lifted his head, freeing his arm to straighten across the back of the couch. His fingertips feathered over Kinig’s shoulder, barely felt through the thick wool. “And if we never let you go?”

Kinig blinked, then stared at the empty floor in the center of the room. “I…”

“You hadn’t thought of that possibility?”

“No.” He’d thought of death, he’d thought of denial, but it had not occurred to him that the elves would keep him. “I…why?”

Fallil leaned toward him slightly. A lock of white hair dislodged from behind his ear to spill over his smooth cheek. “Let me tell you a truth. We have kept human men in the past. Many, in fact. But only a few survive.” Fallil’s fingertips traced Kinig’s collar, so close to the bare skin of his neck. “Unlike for women, there is no spell to convert a human male. It’s been tried, and it has failed, killing the subject.”

Distracted by the almost touch, Kinig swallowed again. “What do you do with the men that you keep?” He’d heard of such things in other lands, but only in whispered tales of dubious origin.

Fallil edged a little closer to Kinig’s side. “We keep them. We toy with them.” A delicate stroke of warm fingers over his rapidly beating pulse. “We have enormous sexual appetites. Our goddess bred us that way.” One finger traced the hinge of Kinig’s jaw just below his ear. “Since there are so few women, there isn’t a man among us who doesn’t know the pleasures of another man.” Fingertips brushed along his neatly trimmed beard toward his chin, those silver eyes tracking the progress. “Some of us prefer it.”

Kinig shuddered, giving up resistance by leaning into the touch. Fallil closed the distance between them, nimbly catching the goblet about to fall from Kinig’s slack fingers. “Was Savous right about you, Kinig?” His fingers carded back into Kinig’s hair, taking hold and turning the bard’s head so they were face to face. Kinig’s lips sighed open as the other man’s obsidian lips came closer. “Kinig?”

“Yes?”

“Are you a lover of men?”

“Yes.”

Those gorgeous lips curled into a smile, revealing small teeth of a white to rival his hair, brows, and ridiculously long lashes.

Kinig moaned as the slightly smaller man used his grip on Kinig’s neck to brace himself as he gracefully swung one leg over Kinig’s thighs to straddle his lap. Keeping control of the bard’s head, he leaned to the side to place Kinig’s cup on the table beside the couch.

“This isn’t something most human men find pleasant,” Fallil continued as he settled his firm rump on Kinig’s thighs. “Or, rather, allow themselves to enjoy.” With his other hand, he parted the front of Kinig’s jacket, drawing on the string that kept his undershirt closed. Kinig glanced down, gratified to see a bulge that stood testament to Fallil’s arousal. At least they were both sporting erections. “In fact, it drives most men who prefer women to insanity. It bothers them when they feel the attraction toward us, when they can’t help but want to suck cock and feel another tunnel deep into their ass.”

Kinig couldn’t breathe. His heart raced. Unable to help himself, he slid his hands up the firm muscles of Fallil’s thighs until he could sink his fingertips into the meat of the other’s ass. Firm, tight, demanding to be worshipped.

Fallil smiled, sliding his hand within Kinig’s shirt to find the bare skin of his chest. “I can tell that this won’t be a problem for you.”

********************************

Click here to visit the Jet’s site for Dark Elves V: Discovery

However… some of it… well… goes awry

(what follows is actual clips from emails)

Jet: everyone knows what a standard motel room looks like, yes. but they don’t know that Randy’s tan looked amazing spread out on the rumpled white sheets. They don’t know that his hair was the same shades of brown in the confusing painting bolted to the wall above the bed. They don’t know that the bulk of him plus Randy couldn’t fit in the tub together. When you’re falling in love, the most mundane things lend to the magical. You know that!

JL: right but that would be in there. That is necessary stuff. I guess I’m thinking of prose as stuff not really needed like referring to a cock as a “purple headed warrior” LOL stuff like that. Unnecessary description, over flowery descriptions.

Luisa: *laugh* FSM!!! Purple headed warrior! I guess it’s going to ram its way into the fortress?

Willa: *coffeesnorts*

Jet: I feel the need to do a fantasy story where the hero’s armor is purple… with a helmet… O_O nah! too obvious

Luisa: I don’t think people would get it until he storms (head first) into the entrance of the bad guy’s lair (which should be located between two hills that just happen to be close together). The passage should be warm and snug. I don’t know what the bad guy is wearing when they meet, though.

Jet: hmmm, yes. and the hero will, of course, have to climb over/under two sizable boulders to get to said tight entrance. Hero needs a milky white sword too…

Luisa: And the bad guy needs to be a witch who enchanted the area, so he can sense that the hero is getting closer. The sword would, of course, be enchanted. No matter what happens, it will always remain rigid and powerful. Little does the hero know, but the bad guy has enchanted the passage. That sword will release some of its power when they finally
come together. It will probably regroup after they verbally spar for a bit, though.

JL: bushes! you need big green leafy bushes next to the entrance.

Jet: yes yes yes. Add Jen’s bushes, maybe a tall, proud tree growing up above the cave and the boulders.

Luisa: Yes! A mighty oak, under whose shade our hero studies the entrance to the cave. He leans against it, not knowing that the bad guy can feel his touch.

Willa: Oh god, my cheeks hurt from laughing! Gives “tree huggers” a whole new meaning O_O

Ally: **snorts wine** Stop it, y’all are killing me!!!!

Luisa: *pets* Everyone dies a little death when the Purple Warrior is around

Ally: Oh FSM help me! **dies*

Luisa: the bad guy would help you. He wants to put a stop to the Purple Warrior’s habit of assaulting people and then running off. Course, once the Purple Warrior has faced him, I think he’s going to get attached. He likes the tunnel and the man who controls it.

(well, it amused us LOL)

Did I make this secondary character’s eyes blue? Did I even mention eyes? Forget it, I’m cutting this character s/he doesn’t do anything really.

OMG, please tell me that you did not just go on for a whole page about some piece of history that has nothing to do with anything!

Um, you do realize that it’s been a few chapters since there’s been any sex whatsoever? You do recall that this is “erotic” romance, yes?

**points at a particular character** don’t you EVEN start with me!

You got it, folks, I’m heading into the home stretch on DE5. This is an accomplishment, surely, but now I have to put it in front of people. And you know what that means?

FRICKIN’ DETAILS!!

Hey Jet, did you know that he started out the scene sitting and then he sits down?

I don’t get why this guy is so bad/good. This is the first time I saw him (well, yeah, duh! I cut the scene that set that up **rolls eyes**)

You do realize it’d take longer to travel from point A to point B, right? And how did they do it?

Can’t we know more about this person?

But, that doesn’t make sense? How could he…? When this other guy…? And didn’t you say in some obscure passage back in book one that…?

O_O!

I mean, really, O_O!! And people tell me these books should be longer so I can include–you guessed it–more detail. ACK! That’d kill me!!

****Please ignore the above. Author is suffering from DIP and inferiority complex and brain overload. She’ll be fine once she writes those virtual words “the end”****

Available now from Loose Id

Pairing: m/f, m/f/m+

Buy it here

This one is a fun (I hope) romp, pure and simple. I had the idea and much of it written pre-Dark Elves I: Taken and thought it was a neat enough idea to resurrect.

Sorry, no m/m in this one. But… the cps saw a possible connection so maybe there’ll be a follow up story.

BLURB:

Alex dumped her and Jen’s not sure why. Okay, he’d been her first, but she thought she’d done rather well, sexually speaking. Why did he all of a sudden tell her that it wasn’t working out? What was wrong with her?

Ken, Bart, Davey and Jason—her best friends—all try to convince her there’s nothing wrong with her. In fact they seek to prove it to her… by first-hand example. That’s all well and good until Jen starts to freak about that. She’s sleeping with her best friends. What’s up with that?

****************************

© 2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

We were laughing when we got back to my place.

I wore a terribly feminine flowered dress with a full skirt and a low neckline. Strangely, I actually liked the damn thing. It was long enough that I didn’t have to wear pantyhose — ugh, I never did get those things! — and it set off my new sandals nicely.

“I’m telling you, we should have gone in,” said Bart again, carrying bags toward my room.

I laughed harder. The whole day, Bart had been intent on playing my doting boyfriend. He’d gone to extremes, insisting on feeling me up in every dress that I tried on, much to the amazement of the wide-eyed store clerks. When he’d first cupped my ass in his large hand, I’d almost decked him, but I let it go. What the hell? We were having fun, right? And besides, it felt good. When I’d played along, he’d only gone further until, at the last shop, he wanted to follow me into the dressing room to see me try on the garters and stockings he’d insisted that I needed.

“It would have been great. Think of their reaction.”

My laughter subsided, but I was still amused. It would have been funny, but I’d stopped him. Dresses were one thing. Garters were another thing entirely. I didn’t think I was ready to go that far. Besides, even if I’d been laughing, it had been kind of embarrassing to be watched like that. It was probably normal for Bart, but I wasn’t used to being the object of attention, as I’d been all afternoon. It was exhausting!

We took the bags into my room. Despite it all, half of the purchases were actually made by me. I hadn’t let him buy me that much, against his protests.

He set the paper and plastic down on the floor by the closet. “Y’know, Jen, that really does look good on you.”

I smiled, examining my reflection in the large mirror above my dresser, smoothing my hands over the red and white roses that twined with green vines, lingering just seconds on my breasts. The scoop neck did terrific things for my cleavage, and the new push-up bra didn’t hurt any. “Thanks. I guess there’s something for dresses after all. Sometimes. But not the makeup!” I shuddered dramatically, reaching up to toss my loose hair back.

“Why not?” He laughed. “I’m told it can do wonders for your self-esteem.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, well, it’s nasty. Besides, it’s too much work to learn to do it right.” A part of me envied women who could, but it just wasn’t for me.

He stepped into view in the mirror, right behind me. He put his hands on my hips. Then his eyes met mine in the mirror.

I froze.

He didn’t. “Care to let me show you how much a man can appreciate a figure like this?” Oh, man, had his voice ever sounded that sexy before? If so, I’d missed it.

Whoa, wait! “What are you offering?” I asked, grinning feebly, trying to make light of this. I started to twist away from him.

He didn’t let me, holding firm on my hips, reflected eyes locked on mine. “I’m not joking, Jen. You look incredible.”

My smile died. “Bart, stop,” I said, trying to sound cold. The tremor in my voice ruined the effect.

“Can’t.” His fingers gently kneaded the flesh at my waist, reminding me they were there. Yeah, like I needed a reminder. “I know you don’t think of me like a boyfriend. I know we’d be awful as a couple, but” — one hand slid up to spread flat just under my navel — “I’d dearly love to make love to you.”

Ah, shit, he’d said the words. He’d said them softly. He hadn’t been joking. He hadn’t cursed. He hadn’t done any of the things that I knew to be safe between a man and a woman who were just friends.
And, damn it, his eyes and hands were burning me. Squirming worms manifested in my belly as he looked for permission to go on.

“We’re friends,” I said, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The fabric of the dress was too sheer. I could feel the heat of his palm just inches above my sex. I should move that. Yeah. I’d do that in a second…

“Nothing needs to change, sweets,” he assured me softly, leaning in to brush the lightest of kisses on my shoulder, almost where it met my neck. Sweets. I recognized that. That’s what he called his girls. “We’ll still be friends.” Another kiss, a little more pressure. “But we could have a hell of a time this afternoon.”

The kiss felt too good. My head tipped to the side, giving him room to trail more of them up my neck. I’ll confess, I had sometimes wondered what it was like to sleep with the big man. Not seriously, but it had occurred to me in isolated moments. His bevy of girlfriends had seemed to enjoy him, after all.

“Fuck,” I muttered, closing my eyes.

Take a trip on over to Fiction with Friction to read my fireworks post “Glory Boy” for the Fiction with Friction fireworks week.

Pairing: m/m

Eric’s ready for a typical, boring town picnic for the 4th of July. He’s not prepared when the town’s glory boy starts to talk to him.