#trans protagonist

The three Hunters glanced to each other in confusion and concern. What they'd at first thought was going to be some form of threat, a major incursion as some form of revenge that Gwi-ma had mustered, they instead found a tall woman, European in descent from the look of her, apparently barely able to hold herself vertical before almost collapsing into a nearby bench.

Even Mira, who'd summoned her gokdo, stood down from a defensive stance. Could it have been a trick to get them to drop their guard? Sure, but it seemed more unlikely by the second as the woman started muttering, "...swear I'm not like this nerm...num...normally. Feels like my girlfren' gave me sum weed gummies without th'good parts." English wasn't Mira's first language, but she was reasonably proficient due to so many of their songs being at least in part in English, if not mostly. Even so, it was difficult to understand the words through the woman's slurring.

Zoey, naturally, was the one to fully drop any guard and step closer to the stranger, "...do you...need help?"

The woman giggled in the way someone in an altered mental state; slightly unhinged, a little too loud, and out of breath when she was finished. Once she'd recovered from her giggle-fit, she answered, "I'm prolly dead, so not much help'n me. Can't git struckt...stricken? ...hit by lightning without dyin', amirite?"

The three Hunters exchanged looks again, concern for the woman's mental state ratcheting by the moment. This wasn't helped when she looked up and her eyes didn't seem to be in sync, one almost drooping closed as the other managed to open properly...and the distinct brilliance of eyeshine reflected back at them. This almost distracted from the woman's jaw hanging a bit slack and a fang being visible through the parted lips. It wasn't like Rumi's fangs, which were starting to become more prominent since the Idol Awards, but sharper, longer, thinner from what was visible.

Zoey let out a little gasp, drawing the attention of the woman. This got the other eye open fully and a similar gleam of tapetum lucidum as the other eye opened enough. The maknae stepped right up to the woman and put her hands on either side of her face. Zoey carefully, gently pulled one of the woman's eyes fully open with the pad of her thumb. Mira stepped up next to her friend and murmured, "Careful, Zoey...we don't know what she is."

"Look at her eyes!" blurted Zoey with clear excitement, "They're vertically slitted! Like a..." she then put the back of her hand to the woman's forehead, then touched her fingertips to the pulse point on the woman's neck. She shifted from cautiously curious to concerned in a heartbeat, "We gotta get her someplace warm, now!"

The woman apparently agreed, as she was leaning into Zoey's touch, "...mmmm...yer warm. Kinda forward'v you, but does you touchin' me mean I c'n snuggle you? 'cause yer warm."

Rumi chimed in as a voice of reason, thankfully. "Where are we going to take her? The only place nearby we could take someone non-human is the tower."

"Then we take her to the tower," replied Zoey without looking away, "I think..." the maknae gently levered the mystery woman's jaw open and gently pressed against the gums holding one of the fangs, causing some sort of liquid slightly more viscous than saliva to drip down the sharpened tooth, "I think she's part snake."

Mira and Rumi exchanged glances with each other. Rumi's eyes told Mira that she was already leaning toward doing as Zoey said. For Mira, the sight of Rumi's patterns reminded the choreographer about her 'stab first ask questions later' policy had been hammered home by someone who expected her to kill one of her best friends in the world without question...and how close she'd come to doing just that. She sighed and nodded at Rumi, who nodded back in apparent agreement. "Yeah, okay," said Mira, dismissing her gokdo back to the Honmoon, "Let me help, she's tall."

Given that muscle cars were not designed with a nearly two meter tall woman in mind, they had to rearrange. Rumi and Zoey wound up in the back seat while their unexpected house guest was stretched out in the front passenger seat. Just a few minutes later they were pulling back into their private parking garage. Navigating the woman to the express elevator was rather similar to guiding a drunk person. She murmured mostly unintelligible phrases and leaned on them all quite a bit. Thankfully, as soon as the elevator doors closed, she seemed to start coming to her senses, like watching a drunk person sober in fast forward.

(Apologies to anyone who may have gotten hyped about its release back when it was supposed to be in September, it got pushed back a bit due to extenuating circumstances.)

My last book was certainly personal in its own way, but this one is truly close to my heart. It's an idea that popped into my mind almost two decades ago and never really let go. It's all about music, art, inspiration, ADHD, asexuality, and a lot more.

Penny Hartwell is an artist struggling just to pay the rent on her Boston apartment. The meager paycheck she gets working at a small gas station is barely supplemented by her nickel-and-dime commissions. It’s been years since she’s had a chance to work on something truly great, and longer still since she’s felt truly inspired.

Anthea Corey is an ancient muse, just returning to her duty after a decade sabbatical, recovering from a string of abusive artists. She’s looking to take it easy and start with a simple project that couldn’t possibly leave her heartbroken yet again.

When the two meet in the Boston Public Library on a cold winter afternoon, they feel a mutual spark that just might give them what they both need—something warm, soft, and inviting.

If you're able, preorders are always encouraged and adored! But if you can't (and believe me, I feel that) then just spread the word and you'll still make my day.

It's also available through pretty much any major retailer you might prefer to purchase from.

Amazon

B&N

Books-a-Million

Target