About Opposite Ends of the Spectrum
Written by Reno MacLeod and Jaye Valentine
55 pages / 23500 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-609-4, 1-60370-609-7
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Incubus Dekin Swain finds himself plucked from his monochrome, sex-feeding lifestyle and thrown into the harsh, chilling world of a traveling carnival freak show. His life gains a vibrant splash of color when he is caged beside a fellow 'freak' who should be his mortal enemy.
A prisoner of the carnival long before the demon arrived, Kelly, the 'Scarlet Angel', has almost given up hope of ever escaping his captors. His extraordinary hair and wings quickly catch Dekin's interest and lustful stares.
Thrust together by the cold fingers of fate, Dekin and Kelly are forced to put aside their differences and work together. The appearance of an artist with an unusual talent puts the fragile bond between angel and demon to the test. Dekin and Kelly quickly discover that although life together will never be easy, life apart would be unbearable.
Review
Mel Spenser, author of Miss Me?, writes: Incubus Dekin Swain awakens to find that he has been taken captive by a traveling carnival freak show.
Already a prisoner of the carnival, Kelly, the “Scarlet Angel,” had almost given up hope of escape before Dekin arrived. The demon and angel find that they must rely on each other if there is any hope for escape. The bond created between the two is ultimately put to the test. Jace Barton, from StarCrossed 1, Demon Tailz, is an artist with an unusual talent. When he comes into their lives, things will never be the same.
I found this to be a fascinating read. From the beginning, the story grabbed my attention and didn’t let up. One element that made this story work for me was that it didn’t follow a set formula. With surprises throughout, there was an originality in ideas and the storytelling that I found refreshing. The scenes with Kelly and Jace were particularly well done. Especially those involving paint…
Another thing that I really enjoyed about this story was the imagery. These authors’ forte was their ability to vividly describe their demons and angel. Through finely crafted descriptions, Kelly was brought to life. They were also successful at demonstrating Dekin as a menacing demon, while at the same time making him a sympathetic character.
This story is the second installment in the StarCrossed Series. And because I thoroughly enjoyed it I am anxiously looking forward to the future installments in this series.
Sample
The jarring change from pavement to dirt under the old Ford truck's tires woke the incubus demon. He was immediately sick, the drugs used to knock him out wreaking havoc with his unique physiology. He did his best to keep the vomit outside the cage. After the last of his stomach's contents was purged, Dekin Swain rocked back on his heels, shaking, and looked around.
Dekin was in a metal-barred cage, the top and sides covered with thick canvas. He couldn't tell where he was going, except that they were on a dirt road. Pebbles crunched raucously beneath churning tires. This disturbed Dekin. When he'd last been conscious he'd been living, working, and hunting in the windy city of Chicago. He was quite sure he'd never come across dirt roads in Chicago before.
The old truck hit something that felt like a moon crater, and Dekin's head smacked the top of the cage. He cursed and kicked at the cold, hard iron in frustration. Someone had figured out what he was. After twenty-eight years of successfully avoiding detection in the mortal world, surviving quite easily among the human population and feeding off their promiscuous ways, he'd finally been caught. The last thing he remembered was following the graying film agent into an alley, the promise of money greasing the air despite the fact that coin wasn't the draw for Dekin -- sex was. Even old, tired, forty-something sex.
Things had started much as they always did, with the guy feeling up Dekin's willowy body, grabbing his ass, kissing his neck, running fingers through his waist-length, sandy-blond hair. Telling him how fucking beautiful he was. Dekin had smirked. He knew he was beautiful. He knew he could be working as a high-class, highly paid model, posing for artsy fashion spreads in GQ and Esquire. But those jobs were far too high profile. Under lights and constant scrutiny, Dekin knew that somewhere, somehow, his true self would eventually be exposed. The dirty, gritty world of the porn industry was far more private, far less questioning, and allowed Dekin to feed without raising eyebrows.
Where had I made a mistake? he wondered. Dekin couldn't recall anything after having knelt down in front of the guy. By the grinding in his gut he knew he'd been knocked out cold before getting a single sip of erotic essence. Dekin liked to play a dangerous game of self-starvation, fending off hunger until it was so keen that once he did feed it was euphoric far beyond the normal high. He was a junkie for it, stretching the time between feedings longer and longer, waiting for that perfect rush.
It had all backfired on him.
The truck engine cut off and died with a sputter. The vehicle rocked as the driver climbed down from the cab and slammed the door. Someone else was there to meet them. A discussion ensued. Dekin strained to hear their words, hoping for a clue as to his whereabouts.
"Put him near cage six."
"Are you sure? Kind of close to Red, ain't it?"
"Hey, am I payin' you to ask dumb questions? No. Put him near cage six. Leave the tarp over him. I'll deal with it in the morning. Him and Red are gonna be shown together, so they might as well get used to being close."
A smaller engine gunned. Dekin's cage shifted and bounced as he was unloaded from the truck bed to be forklifted to his final destination. He flattened against the bottom of the rattling cage, sweat beading his neck and spine. Fear stung his eyes.