Meg Amor, The Lady of Love
Meg Amor is her real name. Great for a gal who writes wonderful romances, yes? Not just typical romances, but troikas. Throw in some sexy black men, a redheaded New Zealander, and you’ve got yourself a great time. Not only in this life, but in the previous, and the next.
My beautiful, redheaded friend has made her first splash with Dark War, a short story from MuseItHot Publishing that introduces these wonderful characters from her world.
When I first met Meg, we were ogling men in L.A. Well, not exactly. She began reading my novel Trainwreck, which is set in L.A. Unfortunately, our meeting came just weeks after I’d been in California not far from where my friend resides, so having not met in person, doesn’t mean we can’t get into trouble together.
Her characters are so heart wrenchingly real. Charlie is by far my favorite. I can’t help myself. I like them troubled and brooding with amazing eyes. Uh…hem…anyway, her settings and intricacies of plot are compelling.
Charlie Laralde aches with pent-up sexual tension and love for his two best friends, Henry and Izzy. His desire for them is torn to shreds by a vicious woman convincing him, he’s unlovable trash. Like the inner Dark War struggle he’s fought his whole life, he gives in to the darkness. Frustrated and hell-bent on destruction, he disappears with an unsavory crowd on a depraved death wish booty-call.
Will Henry and Izzy rescue him in time? Can they convince Charlie of their deep passionate love and need for him?
I’ve known Charlie since the day he was born. He’s ten years younger, a Creole from a good Louisiana family like I am. Tall, charismatic, charming, oozes sex like the call of a siren going out into the night. He has a slight look of Smokey Robinson in his eyes, raw sexuality, and the women flock to him. They always have. Charlie’s sexy, light-skinned, what would have been called pardo in the old days, not like my darker skin. He keeps his hair slightly long and swept back. He still colors it, just vain enough to not want to age yet.
I’ve long let my short afro progress to salt and pepper. Izzy likes it. She thinks I look and sound a little like that popular, distinguished black actor, which I take as a compliment. He’s older than me and apparently comes under the “sex on a stick,” category. She says I do, too. I’m not sure what she sees, I’m sixty-eight to her thirty-eight years, but she loves me on a deep, soul level. I remind myself everyday how lucky I am.
“We have to find him,” Izzy’s plugged in energetically and this makes me more nervous.
After a lot of calls back and forth to Danny, I’m still none the wiser as to where Charlie went. Hell, I’m worried. It’s been an hour. We’ve achieved precisely nothing.
Izzy comes back from the office, her face taut with stress. “I know where he is.” She loves him as much as I do.
“Where?” I frown.
She shows me on the map. Oh thank God. Okay, I know where he is now. “How did you get this information?”
She grimaces. “I managed to get the stupid car-tracking software to activate.”
“Thank God, baby. I was going mad.”
In reality he’s not far. It’s an old property of his family’s, kind of Bayou, out on the river. An old plantation house, falling down now, the Spanish moss choking everything it touches.
“Let’s go,” says Izzy, grabbing her purse and sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops.
I want to leave her here but know she won’t let me go by myself. Her long, red curls and bright, tropical sundresses make her exotic and sexy, all that beauty dragged into something squalid.
“Not even,” she says.
“Iz, babe, let me deal with Charlie.”
“No, for fuck’s sake, I’m not letting you go there by yourself. Crikey, you don’t really think that’s going to happen, do you? He’s my friend too. We need to sort this out. He’s probably trolleyed out of his brain. You’re not going to deal with him by yourself.”
“Iz,” I say seriously.
“We’re bloody going. Charlie needs us.”
“Yes, he does, but I have a bad feeling about this. There’s probably going to be some sleazy people there. And who knows what else will be going on.”
“Fuck you, Charlie,” she hisses.
I don’t want her to see him like that. I know when he wakes up, sober and sick, he’ll be ashamed. I’ve been here with him. She hasn’t. Admittedly, even for me, a long time ago.
“We’ll take my truck.”
She nods, already helping me grab things we’ll need. Oh God, Charlie. Please be okay. I toss the big first-aid kit in the car, grab water and blankets. I run upstairs to his bathroom and pack shampoo, soap, toiletries, and towels. I throw spare clothes into a bag. Izzy’s eyes silently ask me why. She grimaces and shuts her eyes.
It’s hot, sultry, and steamy. A storm’s brewing out in the bay, picking up the wind. The big thunderheads rolling in earlier have been slow reaching us.
We’re sweating from fear as much as the velvety warmth. A sheen of sweat coats our skin. It’s the height of summer. The heat hasn’t dropped any at night. This heat flash has been brewing for a few days, increasing tensions each day. I’m not surprised something crazy is happening.
We hop into the truck. She grabs my hand. I pull her into me, wrapping my whole body around hers, breathing in her sweet plumeria scent. I wish I could go back inside, shut the door, take her to bed, and make love to her slowly. Deep heat, sensuous lingering arousal, until we’re both going mad with desire. The screaming need for each other has never diminished or abated.
It can’t be easy for Charlie at times, living with us. He wants what we have, I know that. I thought this was taking a different direction but unless I’m mistaken, something’s jumped the rails somewhere.
“I feel bad, I should have caught this sooner,” I say.
“I didn’t pick up on it either, babe. Maybe something happened at The Club and he got triggered.”
She’s as worried as I am.
“I love you, babe, more than life itself.”
“I know, baby. Back at you, always.” She kisses me slowly, her soft lips opening up, letting me slide my tongue into her mouth, all the heat in her eyes, despite the worry. Beautiful girl. How did I get this lucky?
I don’t even have to plug in the address. I know where he is.