Novels by PixelDave

The sky was a raging gray, clouds boiling darkly overhead as the first plump drops of rain began to fall.Asher yanked his hood up over his sweatshirt and kept walking, acting like he didn't feel the cold creeping into his bones.The city was always on edge before a storm — electric with tension waiting to be released.Just like Asher himself.It had been three weeks since he'd last seen Damien.Three weeks of pretending to be okay, of building a new life brick by painful brick.He had a part-time job at a local bookstore now — nothing exciting, but it was enough to cover expenses.He had a studio apartment just large enough for a bed and a wobbly kitchen table.He even had friends — real ones — like Kade, who came to see him more often than Asher was willing to let on.On the surface, he was managing.Beneath, he was unravelling.Because no matter how many times he tried telling himself he was a better man without Damien, his heart wouldn't receive the memo.It hurt him — like a phan

City lights melted into a rainbow of rain and neon as Asher stumbled through the streets, his bony jacket no protection against the cold drizzle that soaked him to the bone.He had no idea where he was going.He only knew he had to get out — out of Damien, out of the lies, out of the pain his heart seemed to contort with every breath.Asher stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and kept walking, head hung low, wiping away the tears that insisted on falling.He revolted himself for it — for being so weak, for loving someone so much whom clearly did not love him just as much in return.Around him, the world passed on — laughing couples ducking under umbrellas, taxis honking furiously, the far-off smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor — oblivious to the way Asher's world was falling apart quietly.He stopped when his legs would no longer carry him.Panting, he looked up and stood before a tiny, cozy-appearing pub tucked between skyscraper-sized office buildings.Warm yellow

The air between them was a living thing.Damien was rigid, fists clenched at his sides, chest heaving as if he'd run a marathon.Asher, against the wall, could still taste the outline of Damien's mouth on his own — hot, desparate, real.It ought to have been satisfying.It should have given him the closure that he had longed for after weeks of cold stares and tense smiles.But all Asher felt was fear.Because if one kiss could destroy the armour that they had worked so hard to build.What would they do if they surrendered completely?Damien's head snapped away first, cursing at himself."This was a mistake," he spat harshly.He turned away, raking a trembling hand through his black hair.Asher glared at him, throat tightened, heart pounding so loudly it obliterated everything else.He could stay quiet. Act like it never happened.Go back to the charade they'd been acting.Safe. Controlled.Alone.Or."Damien," Asher whispered.The older man froze, back to Asher."I don't want to play

The chapel was cold.Cold that worked its way under your skin and into your bones, no matter how many clothes you wore.Asher Collins trembled as he loosened the tight collar of his white dress shirt, his shaking hands.Not from cold, but from panic pounding against his ribcage.Today was the best day of his life, it ought to have been — weddings were a celebration of love, weren't they?Instead, he was standing at the altar with Damien Thorne — the man who detested him, the man he had vowed he would never even kiss, let alone marry.He couldn't even glance in Damien's direction, not the way the older man stood frozen, chipped from marble, black with anger.Damien's black business suit was fitting, his broad shoulders wrapped as if molded from a mold, his entire body tense with wrath. His expression was as frosty as the air outside, his jaw set so tightly that it appeared to be about to shatter.The only sound in the cavernous room was the muffled whisper of the priest clearing his th