What do you do if you're forced to go to college and share a dorm with someone? Doesn't sound bad? Well, try hiding wings on top of it!

Castiel hates Dean Winchester with a passion. Every word he said, every look he makes, ever movement he does makes the Novak hate him more and more each day. Yet, when he finally meets the mysterious member of the band, Devil's Angel, he finds himself falling in love with the unknown identity of the man. What could possibly go wrong?

He is lavish. Masterful. Intellectual, inexplicable, overt. Sexual. Sherlock Holmes defines extravagance. He isn't exactly the best thing for John's tireless, bland stability. John works the nine to five and tries not to lose sleep over the small things - like the labor of his fiancée's expectations, and the sirens that fill his head with noise after curfew. He finds comfort in art, and drinking. Besides the war making its presence known, slowly creeping its black tendrils into the heart of Bristol - John's life is quiet. Given that, he's not surprised when he is dragged into Sherlock Holmes's orbit. There is no manual to help him navigate the moment their eyes first meet; he presents himself as the perfect distraction, a beautiful incendiary miracle. John thinks that maybe he was hoping for this, because: Sherlock is potent, and inflammatory, and perfectly willing to make John's life hell for his own self-indulgent pleasure. With one touch, John's sense of self is corrupted. And what does it matter if the world implodes? It was never kind to them to begin with.

They're blood-thirsty. Every last one of them. Per the Agreement, however, all humans are assigned a vampire at birth. When they reach their age to serve, they must fill the role of a consort, feeding their vampire whenever needed. Unlike most humans, I was ready to be a consort. I was ready for my vampire, to serve him whenever he needed me. What I wasn't ready for? His kiss. A kiss that sparked into a flame. A kiss powerful enough to change the world. (**malexmale novel**)