It’s with great honor and pride I can say that Of Gods and Monsters: Menoetius has been translated into Italian.

 

Available On Amazon.it

 

This is the book that put me on the map and gave me a cast of characters that loves to kidnap me and write their own story. And with each book, this cast of characters keep growing. Not all of them are nice guys. But how can you see the beauty without seeing the ugly?

 

In association with Francy e Alex Translation and, Francesca Giraudo and Alessandra Magagnato, two wonderful ladies, that made one of my dreams come true; having one of my books translated into another language. I mean what author doesn’t want their book/s translated into another language to reach more readers.

 

For those of you who have not read the story of Beo and Colt give them a try, The original book (English version) is free.

 

You might not like Colt, he sure ain’t lovable, but that’s the way he wanted to be written.

 

Of Gods and Monsters: Menoetius is a story of discovery, facing the monsters and the gods in our lives that overrule us and hopefully overcoming them.

 

It’s a gray love story of two men that happen to be part of the BDSM community.

 

It about a tyrant-bully that had everything, but could never understand love and didn’t need to, because he never wanted it in the first place.

 

About a boy that had so much love in his life, but didn’t want anyone to get too close because of the monster slumbering in his blood.

 

The thing is… when you aren’t looking for love she strikes the hardest.  

 

 

Blurb:

Go ahead…hate me.
Slaughter me against the wall.
I never introduced myself as the goddamn hero. Even labeling me a pussy bad boy.

I’m an imperious villain! A tyrant cut from the bone of the worst kind of monster.

This is my story and I won’t change it for anyone in the world, but…

For him? The one who calls me Master… This is no forever fairy tale romance. This is RAW. This is ripping your heart out and trampling it till there’s nothing left but an angry bloody mess RAW.
He was the one who saw through my cracks, who would suffer my pain, blood and tears, working to mend those still bleeding wounds on my soul.
He stood through my violent storm, hiding the battle raging inside him, one I was too stupid to see, that was tearing apart the only man I would ever love.
It took almost losing him to see that, to understand, to comprehend what he truly was to me.

Mine.

My precious boy.

My beautiful Beo.

 

 

Of Gods and Monsters: Menoetius excerpt:

(Caution: may contain an asshole spewing foul langue every sentence.)

 

He looked up at that moment, and our eyes met. As beautiful as those brown eyes were, there was also a tiredness to them, with dark rings underneath, and a defensiveness in his expression and tone.

“Evening,” he said, and climbed off the chair.

I nodded and stepped closer. Hell, I was nervous.

“You were, your voice is… really nice.” Dumb fuck! What the hell is this? I’m thirty-eight. I give one look at a sub and they’re all dripping and kissing my boots, and the best I can come up with is this?

“Listen, dude,” he said, picking up his guitar. “Whatever you’re hawking, I ain’t interested. Whether it be a record deal, or time in studio for an Extended Play. Thanks, but no thanks. I like my life the way it is. Uncomplicated.”

I shook my head, feeling like a fool.

“I’m not from a record label, though, if you ever reconsider, I can hook you up with the right people.”

“Okay, thanks bro, but I’m really not interested. I need to get packing and move on.” He turned, bent over and placed his guitar in its case. His jeans weren’t baggy, but they weren’t a tight fit either. He just had a fucking nice ass.

“Let’s try this again.” I stepped closer, and he stood, turning to me.

“Hi.” I extended my hand only for him to stare at it and bring his big brown eyes to mine. I’m not even going to deny it, my heart skipped a fucking beat. Might have been several.

“Hi,” he said and smirked, then smiled. God, he smiled and burst out laughing. I couldn’t believe the different person standing in front of me, the way his face glowed and his voice sounded. It sent a shudder through me to know I sparked that laugh.

He leaned against the countertop, shaking his head. “That is the most awkward come-on I’ve had in a long time.”

Normally, at this point, I would have lost my temper, but I was strangely calm. His whole presence seemed to soothe me, and it was fucking weird, freaky weird. No one had power over me, and I would never allow anyone to have power over me again. I mean, he wasn’t even all that. Attractive, yes. But not what I usually fucked. So it wasn’t a case where I kept calm to get the kid into bed. The hippie kid was thin, real motherfucking reed thin. Greasy hair sprouted from under the beanie, there were holes in his jeans and his cardigan, and I’m almost certain that black shirt was a couple of days ripe. For all I knew, he was a street whore.

Finally, his laughter died down.

“Listen big guy, you’re hot. You really are, and by the looks of it, you’re probably a rich son of a bitch too, but I’m tired. I want to go home, grab a beer and a smoke, and just forget the day ever happened.” His eyes reached mine, and he shrugged. “Besides, look at me. I’m a little punk. I’m sure with whatever you’re packing in your bank account, you can do a whole lot better than me. Might not even have to pay for it with the way you look all buff and scary handsome. Go fuck some whore, or pick up some pussy in the club. Go get your rocks off, then get back to the wife. But me, I’m really not interested.”

I wasn’t even considering doing the boy; I just wanted to talk and maybe ask him out. Yeah, definitely ask him out, which sat wrong with me. I never asked boys out. Hell, I almost never ate out for dinner unless it involved a very important client. Most of the time, I got Richard to do it.

“I’m not married,” I said, showing him my ring finger. This is so not how it should have gone down. I should be clasping him on the shirt, shoving him against a wall and forcing him to my will—taking whatever the hell I wanted and not bothering with this sweet, useless talking.

“How about I walk you to your car?”

He looked up and frowned.

“Come on, let a gentleman be a gentleman. It’d be my honor.” I gave him a rare sincere smile.

“Sorry, dude. Took the subway, so I’ll be walking home. It’s nice of you though.”

“You sure I can’t change your mind?” I stepped forward, picking up his guitar case and swinging the strap over my shoulder.

“Really, you don’t have to, Mr…?”

“Colt Maxus,” I stretched out my hand again, and this time he took it. Cold, thin fingers gently brushed against my bigger, warmer ones, and I clasped his hand with both of mine.

“Beo Moon,” he said, and pulled in a deep breath as I started rubbing his hand to fill it with warmth.

“Call me Colt, Beo, please. Let me call us a cab; it’s raining outside.” I pointed to the window with a nod.

“Aww, shit!” He shrugged, yet didn’t attempt to pull his hand free.

“No hidden agendas, okay. I promise. Just a rich motherfucker wanting to be a gentleman.”

“There’s no saying ‘no’ to you is there?” He grinned, and my heart nearly imploded.

God, if he only knew. “No, there’s not,” I said, a little breathless.

I reached for my phone and dialed a cab as he pulled on an old WWII coat. There was something mesmeric about Beo, but I couldn’t place my finger on it. I knew I had to have him, and not just for one night. I needed to have him welded to my side, and it scared me shitless. Actually terrified me. Even more so because I didn’t give a damn. I was escorting him home, feeling fucking goddamn euphoric, like a crack addict in a fucking coke storm. This was the start of something new, unfamiliar—Follow your heart, no matter how irrational or foolish your impulses may seem.

Yeah, I guess someone as fucked up as me did have a heart. Question was, could I keep this—whatever it was, whatever it was going to be—or would I fuck it up?

The address he gave the cab driver was in downtown Manhattan, while the charity event was in Tribeca. It took us thirty minutes to reach the dodgy part of Queens.

I glanced at him with his guitar resting on his lap. He was edgy, fidgety, with roaming fingers not finding a comfortable place to rest. I snatched his hand and placed it on my thigh. “Sit still,” I whispered, and the little shit gaped at me.

I gave him a brisk nod and gazed out of the window. My pants were beginning to pull tighter as the minutes ticked away. Even more so when those damn fucking fingers of his started making small strokes on my thigh.

The warning signs were all there: me being nervous, him being nervous, pulling his fucking hand onto my thigh like we were old lovers. Way too comfortable with each other despite the fact we had only met a couple of moments ago.

The driver stopped at our destination, and I peered through the rain-drenched window at the building, sneering at the sight of it.

Telling the driver to wait, I stepped out.

“It ain’t much, but it’s home for now,” he said when he caught my glower at the place. I didn’t like that statement one fucking bit.

The place was run down, had bad lighting, and just looked sickly and cold. Trash littered the front steps, along with beggars sleeping on top of cardboard boxes, covered in filthy blankets as they sought shelter from the downpour under the small roof over the entrance.

I could offer him a place to stay and a warm meal. Fuck, I’d buy him warmer fucking clothes if I could get another smile out of him. Beo didn’t strike me as the kind of person to accept such things. Not because he seemed the arrogant or stubborn type. He just appeared to be one of those people that got by on what he had, not wanting to be a bother to someone else.

Hell, I might have been wrong. Maybe he was a drug addict. I didn’t know shit. All the years spent being in the shipping line, container shipping and all the illegal jobs associated with it, you learn how to read people, and I am fucking good at it. Yet, I couldn’t read this kid. He was definitely hiding something—everyone hid something about themselves. I wanted to help him, and yet, this time I didn’t know how to approach it. I was scared it might push him away and cause me to lose whatever this was going to blossom into.

I fucking hated this feeling.

God alone knew where it came from. As I reached for my wallet, watching his soul-thieving eyes go wide ready to protest, I pulled out a business card and held it out to him.

“Beo, you need anything—” He started shaking his head.

“No, I’m fine. Really, I’m good. You did more than enough giving me a ride—”

“Boy!” I growled, my anger finally sparking forth, making me feel a little bit more like myself. “Take my fucking card!” I hissed.

With a shaking hand, he reached for it. I didn’t let go yet; I wasn’t done saying what I wanted to say.

“You need anything, anything at all, Beo, you call. Even if it’s just to talk.”

He gulped and bobbed his head.

“Good boy,” I said, releasing the card.

“Goodnight, beautiful Beo,” I smirked and turned, moving to the cab before I dug my own fucking grave.

There was a battle raging inside me, one side demanding I take him home, the other screaming, What the fuck? Where is Colt fucking Maxus? He wouldn’t give two fucks what happens to this boy. He’s nothing but shit-trash with a nice ass.

But that same Colt Maxus wanted that boy to be his. I reached for the cab door and froze.

“Colt,” he said behind me, and my breath actually took a fucking hitch at hearing him say my name.

I turned around, knowing I was damning myself. But I’d already done so by giving him my card.

Beo came up to me, so motherfucking close I could feel his breath on my neck. “Thank you,” he said, a single tear rolling down his face. He stood on his toes, placed his hands on my chest, leaned in closer, and whispered, “You just made this day worth the hell I’ve been through.” And he kissed my cheek.

God, fuck! Hold this shit up, right motherfucking now.

What was I doing, allowing this hippie to get this close? Why the hell did I give a fuck about him? Why the hell did I feel all giddy and shit in my gut because his lips kissed my cheek, and why was I grinning like I’d just had the best mind-blowing fuck of the century?

“Sleep tight, Colt.” He winked and turned around, walking up to the building and disappearing behind stained glass.

I stood there as a second wave of rain washed down on the city, my chest swelling, heaving for air. Those sweet fucking lips had kissed my cheek. It was one of the rarest, most beautiful, fucked-up experiences I had ever had. I knew I should leave. Instinct stung like fucking wasps in my gut, letting me know that this boy would be my downfall. But Colt Maxus wants what he wants—and I wanted Beo Moon.

The cab driver honked for the fourth time. I spun around and got in.