The Permesis Magician
by B. Bentley Summers
Genre: Dark Fantasy, M/M Erotica
Pretty boy Devon has no idea his week of midterms at a Kansas university is about to go from arduous studying to meeting four magicians who call themselves Merlin's Rogues. He's about to be even more surprised to discover that he's a magician, too, and sought out by dark forces--for what, however, he does not know. But he will soon discover why.Devon's sexbuddy kidnaps him and, using powers bestowed on him by evil forces, curses Devon into becoming his sex slave. Devon is taken to a mysterious suite in London where he gratefully does his master's bidding. Devon's exertions, though pleasing, are grueling, and it's clear this sexual coupling is feeding a dark entity, resurrecting something wicked. Merlin's Rogues, including Devon's crush, Cedric, are in hot pursuit and must battle evil dark forces that stand in between them and Devon. Even if they save the enslaved magician, Cedric will need to use his passion for Devon to break the atrocious Master-Slave spell. Then, maybe they stand a chance against the new odious powers that have risen.
Note: This book contains forced seduction. || A Siren Erotic Romance
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At the end of one bookshelf section, a free-floating dark apparition clutched the throat of the young woman who’d just told him the library was closed. Its clawed fingers were wrapped tight over her throat, lifting her off her feet. The thing’s unhinged jaw showed off rows of fangs, and a misty white energy drifted from the woman’s mouth—into the creature’s fanged hole. The woman’s body convulsed, her jaw stretched far down in an open, silent scream. A retching sound escaped from her.
Devon stepped backwards. His back hit a shelf, knocking off books that thudded onto the coarse carpet. The black specter started at the noise, releasing the girl who fell to the floor like a rag doll, and it turned to him with crimson eyes. The thing sped towards him, and Devon wheeled around and fled between two aisles of books. A shelf on his side exploded, an acrid scent filled his nose, and debris peppered him. At the aisle’s end, he took a sharp left.
He peeked over his shoulder and the specter moved quickly around the corner, its body changing. Devon slowed. Dark gooey slime oozed off of it, and legs and arms solidified as it glided through the air. Its shoulder hit a shelf’s edge and the force toppled the massive piece of furniture over. A series of concussive bangs rang out in the room with shelves colliding into one after another.
He made a straightaway sprint to the nearby railing that overlooked the lobby. I just need to vault over to the open staircase. He jumped. His toe clipped the upper railing and he plunged straight down to the lobby’s tile floor. He shielded his face with his arms and closed his eyes in the moment before he’d smash headfirst into a mobile cart of books, but his body jerked to a stop in midair, a ruckus of noise erupting below him. His arms came away from his eyes. His suspended body hung a foot over the now overturned cart of books. He glanced up. A young man with black hair, a narrow handsome face, and a slender nose stepped through the foyer, his hand extended towards Devon.
Devon dropped onto the scattered books and rolled up on his butt.
Close to the check-out counter, an Asian woman and man stared at him with their mouths open in shock.
Something roared high above them. Devon and the couple brought their eyes up to the terror above them on the third floor. The Asian woman put her hands over her mouth and shrieked. The man bolted away and headed through a turnstile, towards the front doors. A brunette young woman with a beautiful, chiseled face came through the front door.
Devon stood up in a daze.
The slender nosed young man grabbed the shoulders of the still screaming Asian woman and ushered her towards the front door as the black haired woman stepped towards Devon, looking up. She said, “Tristan. It’s coming down.” Devon brought his head back. The black specter came down the stairs. Not a specter. Now it’s flesh.
Tristan said, “Sevil, watch him.” He pointed to Devon. “It almost got him.”
“Devon,” Sevil said with an English accent, and she reached out to him. “Get behind me.”
Devon clasped her hand and allowed himself to be shielded by the woman.
Tristan blocked his path, dryly remarking, “Jesus. A dorocha. It must have just transmuted and somehow got through our defenses.”
Sevil cracked her neck. “Well, I’ve been irking for a fight the last couple of days.”
Sevil squared her shoulders off to the bottom of the staircase. The dorocha reached the base of the stairs and sauntered forward. Over the space of a couple minutes, the thing’s face had shifted, and was now pitted with pockmarks and slime. A row of fangs extended from its smiling mouth. Its facial features rippled, forming brown skin, long eyelashes, and long black hair before returning to its hideous mask. Oh my God. It’s trying to transform into that Indian girl it just killed.
The creature regarded Tristan and Sevil and its clawed fists extended out. Coal black golf ball sized orbs launched out from the tips of its nails. Tristan tensed and held up his hand. The projectiles exploded in midair, one after the other, hitting a bluish force field. The thing brought its arms down, cocked its head and grinned. Devon recoiled from the smile, the back of his knees hitting the edge of a chair, and he plopped down in a seat.
The creature mewled, “Morgan and the dark wizard are back, and soon you’ll be ruins.”
Sevil stepped up and snarled, “Return to the putrid bowels from where you came.” White lightning bolts burst out from her fingertips and the creature flew off its clawed feet and crashed into a bank of computers.
The fallen creature lunged out from the smashed electronic equipment, tendrils of smoke rising from its body. Tristan held up his palm and a sphere of white energy streaked out towards it. At the same time, Sevil unleashed her white lightning bolts again. The creature blew up at the peak of its jump, pieces of fleshy debris showering over the entire lobby’s tile floor.
Tristan looked around to Devon. “Were there any others?”
Sevil took Devon’s arm, “Creatures like that.”
Sevil pulled on his arm. “Come on. Let’s go. Check upstairs, Tristan.”
“Wait,” Devon said, and pointed to the third floor. “There was a girl up there. It was doing something to her.”
Tristan said over his shoulder, “Go. Call Cedric and let him know we’re on the way. I’ll meet you at Merlin’s.”
Sevil led Devon out of the building. Police cars were racing over the lawns and they stopped up on the sidewalks, a few parking by the water fountain with artwork rising from the middle. A couple of officers came up to them and asked them if they were okay. Sevil told them, “There’s some crazy son-of-a-bitch inside.” The officers ran forward, speaking loud into their handheld radios. Sevil towed Devon around the building at a jog and only then released his hand. Devon stopped in place and held up his hands in front of him. “W-wait. Tell me what’s going on?”
Sevil pushed her dark bangs from her face and said, “I’ll answer your questions, Devon. Very soon. But we need to go.” She clutched both of his shoulders. “We were going to induct you later. You’re a Magician, Devon. Welcome to Merlin’s Rogues.”
About the Author
Bryce is a psychologist, author, and the founder of Queer Sense Theory.
Bryce writes popular fiction genres meant for all audiences under Bryce Bentley Summers, and pens gay fiction under B. Bentley Summers, although he'd argue that anyone would enjoy his gay fiction pieces.
Bryce's full time work is at the Veteran Affairs where he has been employed for five years. He has extensive history of working with people diagnosed with PTSD and he used these experiences when writing Fresh Meat.
The novel, Fresh Meat, recently won Dan Poynter's Global eBook Awards for best gay fiction. This piece is more than just a book, but embraces gay identity while deploring the hateful violence that happens in the U.S. prison system, and across the world. The book parallels the vicious Man-Punk prison system to the long ago abolished American Slavery System. However, Fresh Meat is not non-fiction, but fiction, and it's genre is best described as Supernatural Horror.
Rotville and The Zombie Squad, are two of Bryce's recent completions. The Zombie Squad is a teen Post-Apocalyptic Thriller that recently received Reader's Favorite 5-Stars. This novel has humor and is fast pace, that follows four teens in New Orleans who find themselves not only chased by psycho gangsters, but in the middle of zombocalypse. Rotville is a new adult/ adult Sci-Fi Post-Apocalyptic Horror that takes place in the near future, in a city called Rotville where people with a rot disease are quarantined. Inside this city is the mega prison Colleseo, where inhumane experiments are carried out on inmates. It's also the birthplace of Dylan, a super soldier who must fight his way out, save a couple of youths from the new deadly mutants, and keep from being re-caught by the greedy director.
Bryce is also the author of the fiction Young Adult Dark Fantasy/ Sci-Fi series AMEN TO ROT. The novel NYTE GOD is the conclusion to this series. The Amen to Rot series and Nyte God pit Ace and his friends against alien invaders who are turning humans into mutant creatures.
Bryce authors popular fiction with a style that entices readers of all backgrounds to consume, and makes every attempt to make his characters diverse.
As noted, Bryce does dabble in gay fiction, and pens it under B. Bentley Summers, though in truth, these works are meant for everyone to read. Bryce is the founder of Queer Sense, a theory that describes how people form attitudes. The theory provides insight into how specific components in cultural contexts shape our beliefs and values, which ultimately form our attitudes. The nonfiction book, QUEER SENSE: How Are Attitudes Formed? A Revolutionary Guide for Teens, Parents, Mental Health Professionals and Anyone Interested in Queer Theory, is due out by 2016.
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