Tequila Angel

By L.F. Blake

Dave isn't the type to spill out secret confessions, especially when his biggest secret is that fact that he's in love with a man he can never have. His bandmate Corey might be gorgeous, sexually ambiguous, and occasionally sweet... but more often he's shallow, petty, immature, and incapable of faithfulness.

Corey is the one destructive habit Dave has sworn never to take up. But when a drunken confrontation leads to all hell breaking loose, nothing between them will ever be the same.

Tequila Angel is an erotic short about obsession, dysfunctional love, and finding the light in dark places.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.F. Blake
• Release date: Mar 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310195112

L.F. Blake

L.F. Blake is a jewelry metalsmith, an amateur artist, a student of the tarot, and a lover of nature. She lives with too many houseplants, six furry children, and a large number of fish. Her first novel, The Far Away Years, was published when she was twenty-two. Her current work is set in the fictional city of New Berlin, where paranormal citizens outnumber humans, and darkness is always brewing.

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Tequila Angel

L.F. Blake

The following is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, events, or organizations, is coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Tequila Angel

Copyright 2009 © by L.F. Blake

All rights reserved

First edition: April 2009

Second edition: December 2013

Smashwords Edition: March 2015

- Tequila Angel -

In the deep night darkness, stone gargoyles stand silent guard over the yard. I watch them for a minute, waiting to see if they'll move, but they remain stoically oblivious to the voice calling from inside the house.

Hey, Corey says again. Hey, Dave.

I shut the front door and turn to face him. He's crouched in the shadows at the bottom of the staircase, his knees drawn into his chest and one hand gripping a bottle of tequila. His nails gleam satiny black against the bottleneck. He looks like an angel, an exotic angel made entirely of golden skin and bright crimson hair.

Where have you been?

Out. I lean back against the door and study him. Corey can be many things—cocky, flaky, and sometimes downright stupid—but never sullen. Even when Kerri threw him out last month, he was all shrugs and bravado. So what's he playing at now?

Out, he slurs, and lifts the tequila with a roll of his eyes. You're always out. You've been out every night since I got here. Nice of you not to invite me. Not like I need cheering up or anything.

Right, exactly. I hang my jacket on the rack beside the stairs, trying not to think about how easy it would be to lean down and put an arm around him, tell him to forget about his girlfriend, that he can stay here as long as he needs.

But touching Corey is always a test of willpower. Once I start, will I be able to stop? Just standing this close to him in the