Sex. Rebellion. Rock and roll.
Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.
Alexander’s future is all set—finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who’d be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He’s barely met the woman his father expects him to marry.
As Cheyenne’s musical career takes off, his carefully constructed life begins to unravel, exacerbated by an ex-lover who can’t let go, a crotchety barkeeper with a dirty mind and a pure heart, a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny, and Alexander—who’s not sure if he’s falling for the incubus or the rocker.
Cheyenne denies who he is, while Alexander hides what he wants. Together, they learn that getting what they truly want means being who they truly are.
Cheyenne reached the corner of 77th Street and looked up at Alexander’s building. He had a lobby and an elevator ride to figure out what to say. He didn’t let many people into his life, but the big guy had wandered in and taken a seat, and Cheyenne wasn’t going to let him go like this. He would find a way to help Alexander make sense of his life and be happy again.
When he let himself into the apartment, he found Alexander with a beer in hand, stretched out on the sofa, the darkness broken by the light of the television. Cheyenne retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and sat in a chair next to him.
“Your door was open.”
Alexander shrugged. “Pretty sure I could handle an intruder.” He pointed at his chest. “Were-tiger.”
“Good point.” He felt Alexander’s eyes on him. “Who’s winning? And please tell me that was the right question to ask. I’m not much of a sports guy.” And spectacularly bad at small talk.
“It wasn’t a wrong one. The Raiders. And it’s DVR’d. They won.”
Cheyenne nodded as if he had some idea what he was talking about. They sat in silence. When the game was over, Alexander turned on a lamp and powered off the TV. “Why are you here, Chey?”
“To make sure you’re all right. You didn’t seem to be when you left.”
Alexander swung his feet around to the floor. “No, I’m not all right. I just realized that my life is shit. Wait, no, I suspected it before. But at least getting married and being a lawyer, that life I understood. This life? I don’t have a clue.”
“Everybody’s life is shit, Zander. Okay, maybe not everybody’s. But everybody I know. Everybody who’s trying to live the life they want instead of what their parents, or society, or whoever, thinks it should be.”
“You’re telling me I’m in good company? Gee, thanks.”
Cheyenne scooted to the edge of the chair. “Look, if you’d been happy with your father’s plans, would you have been at the club night after night with me?”
Alexander looked away and raked his fingers through his hair.
“You knew there was something missing. You were out there searching for it.” At Alexander’s scowl, he continued, “Maybe you would have found it with a woman if you’d kept looking. But you didn’t, and your world shattered.”
“Think you’re all that? How I’m feeling, it isn’t about you.”
“The fuck it isn’t…”
Trevann Rogers writes urban fantasy and LGBT paranormal romances. Her stories incorporate an unquenchable addition to music and her love for vampires, Weres, incubi and rock stars. Like these elusive creatures, Trevann learned long ago that sometimes being yourself means Living After Midnight.