Fire fighter Damion Tazzo lives life on the edge; running into burning buildings, saving lives and saving the day. He knows what it means to take risks but most of all, he knows how to be discreet. He doesn't do emotional entanglements, not when the life he has is fraught with so much danger and uncertainty, but a chance meeting with a sweet little sub at the first gay bar he's been to in years, has him throwing all caution to the wind, and taking the little guy home with him. He only wants sexual release, what he doesn't expect is the beautiful, trusting eyes, and the tenderness that washes over him when he wraps his new lover in his arms. Now he has to fight against emotions he'd rather do without, and thoughts of a life he has never wanted before. He's a man who knows how to do his job, but there are only two things he can't tame, and that's his beating heart, and the fire between the sheets.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.

Ajax Holdren didn't think his life could get much worse, until a pretty girl with a sword decided to fight a monster right outside his house. But it turns out the monster is after him, and she's what passes for a guardian angel. They call themselves Nightlights, and they use the remains of alien technology-- and magical swords-- to fight the living darkness that preys on sentient life. They live in a tower discovered by humanity a thousand years ago via portals controlled by the tower itself. And the very best Nightlights are young adults. Most of them begin the training as children... But once Ajax meets Natalie, he can't go back, can't pretend the monsters aren't there. The power awakened inside him-- and his own relentless need for a place-- drives him forward. But stepping through that portal takes him into a alien world, where the walls talk and the sun never shines, and humankind's worst enemy isn't the monsters who stalk the street but the people who make them. (Updated 3x a week)

Ashtyn Montgomery has been hailed a celebrity in her world. Blessed with a sensational voice and a body that can grace the dance floor, she had a very bright future as a performer. But, she wanted to leave that world to pursue a different career path. In order to do that, she hid her voice to work in one of the most prestigious event management companies in Perth, Hart Enterprises. Things get rather exciting, and uncomfortable, when she crosses paths with Rhys McLaughlin, the heir to the company. In an ideal scenario, this chance meeting would have been perfect for Ashtyn. Only problem was: Rhys does not want her in his world. Copyright © 2012 September by ThoughtsOnPaper™ / C.J.S.L.L. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this story or portions or ideas thereof in any form whatsoever. No part of this story, idea may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, reposting, or otherwise, without the written and signed permission of the author.