At Heaven's Gate [Spirit of Sage 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove)

  Spirit of Sage 5

  At Heaven’s Gate

  Aston has spent 25 years in prison after a vicious cult attacked his parents, Herb and Kim. He was arrested for defending them and sent to a hell thousands of miles away from his home. Returning to Sage, Wyoming, he finds his parents are now dead, murdered after a deadly explosion, the town is being rebuilt…and twin sex kitten shifters who turn out to be his mates.

  Kieran and Kevin, having had their own dealings with the cult, are ready to settle down with their sexy mate and begin the seduction of their wary stud.

  After years of misery, Aston finds himself at Heaven's gate, but is he ready to take the plunge and accept his gorgeous blond bombshells? Kevin and his twin certainly think so, and soon have their badass beau just where they want him. But will their love and affection be enough to help chase the demons away and heal the lingering pain?

  Genre: Alternative (M/M/, Gay), Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 40,403 words

  AT HEAVEN'S GATE

  Spirit of Sage 5

  Jools Louise

  MENAGE AMOUR

  MANLOVE

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour ManLove

  AT HEAVEN'S GATE

  Copyright © 2017 by Jools Louise

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-68295-828-5

  First E-book Publication: January 2017

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of At Heaven's Gate by Jools Louise from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Jools Louise’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Jools Louise’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To all my fans, once again, for letting me know how much you’re enjoying this series. It means a lot to hear that the books I love writing are enjoyed by people. There are lots of new storylines to explore with this series, so keep the faith, and have fun with all the twists and turns that Spirit of Sage has to offer.

  Xx,

  JL

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Landmarks

  Cover

  AT HEAVEN'S GATE

  Spirit of Sage 5

  JOOLS LOUISE

  Copyright © 2017

  Prologue

  Aston James Halston stepped through the reinforced steel door, out into a world he’d had no contact with for over two decades. The door clanged abruptly shut after him, and he jumped at the finality of the sound. He lifted his nose, smelling the sweetness of the fresh air, the saltiness of the ocean, and something he hadn’t sensed for over twenty-five years—freedom. He rolled his shoulders wearily, smelling the stench of prison on his skin…he imagined it would linger for some time.

  His emotions were confused. There was relief at being free finally, and a somewhat ridiculous fear of leaving the prison regime. He’d dreamt of leaving his daily routines for so long, and yet now that he was out, he felt uncomfortable at not having them. He was stepping into an unknown world that must have changed so much, and he was scared of how he would support himself—he was an ex-con after all. Over it all was an eagerness to return home finally. Sage, Wyoming, was a place he’d imagined in his dreams, a place that recently had been all over the news. He yearned to return there. His cat yowled impatiently, eager to get going. Twenty-five years behind bars had cramped its style, and it needed to run.

  Aston began to walk, crossing the parking lot and following the long road leading away from San Quentin, one of America’s most notorious institutions. He made it to the highway beyond, negotiating the sparse traffic easily, then eased his way into the dense trees on the far side. Within seconds he’d shifted, clothing ripping and fur sprouting as his body transformed. Instantly warmer, his thick, spotted coat felt blissful in the chill morning air. The sun was only just breaching the eastern horizon, dew lying on the ground, damp under Aston’s big, furry paws. He marked his presence, peeing against a tree that stank of coyote and some kind of feline. Then he stalked like a ghost, slowly and with purpose, his brain mapping out the route he needed to take to the town he had been born in…and left at gunpoint, accused of murder.

  An intriguing scent reached his nostrils and a rabbit bounded onto the trail ahead. Crouching low, Aston paused for a moment before pouncing, decapitating his prey easily and savoring the hot, metallic taste of fresh blood against his tongue. Making short work of his snack, he gave a chuffing, triumphant roar, then he melted away into the forest, heading northeast for Wyoming…home.

  Chapter One

  Kieran’s jaw dropped to his toes as he eyed the gorgeous hunk of manhood that stepped inside Café Anglais. The guy oozed bad boy vibes, his walk confident, lithe, and so sexy Kieran spilled hot milk all over the counter before he realized it. He was supposed to be making cappuccinos and had to refocus quickly.

  Kieran glanced over his shoulder at his brother and grinned as he saw Kevin’s identical expression of awe and lusty admiration. The pair were twins, cougar shifters, and shared just about everything…and they’d just agreed on yet another potential bedmate. Sure enough, Kevin glanced at Kieran, winked salaciously, and then began finger combing his long blond hair. He did a quick, discreet breath-check, then stuck his hip out in a sultry pose that was sure to snare their sexy prey.

  Kieran shook his head at his brother’s antics. He heard John, the café’s owner, speaking to the newcomer and saw a few customers glance curiously at the black-haired, broad-shouldered, golden-eyed walking wet dream. The guy was tall, at least six-foot-three, a good four inches taller than Kieran and his twin. And the man’s ass was simply delectable. Rock solid, like a bowling ball, filling the man’s dusty jeans magnificently. Kieran had yet to glimpse the man’s package in front, but if everything was in proportion, Kieran was thinking tall, dark, and dangerous was going to be perfect.

  Words began to filter into Kieran’s ears, penetrating the naughty fantasies playing out in his mind, and he began to pay attention to the conversation the stranger was having with John, the café’s owner.

  “I’m too late,” the guy said, sounding devastated. His golden eyes were clouded with grief and regret.

  “I’m sorry,” John replied sincerely. “Losing family is never easy. Your parents were much loved in this town—I’m sorry you never got to say good-bye. Herb and Kim were good people.”

  The stranger’s shoulders were straight and proud, as though he was refusing to show too much em
otion, but Kieran had put two and two together and was coming to a conclusion. Herb and Kim, who had died in the explosions that had destroyed Sage, had been the sex god’s parents…and he’d been away, unable to get here in time to say good-bye.

  “Kieran, get this man a coffee, would you? On the house. He’s had a shock.” John glanced at Kieran, arching one dark brown eyebrow when the young shifter simply stared at the newcomer.

  “Kieran, dude!” Kevin said, clouting his brother across the ear. “Get the man a coffee, would you? Geez! You look like you want to jump his bones. Get your head out of the gutter.”

  Kieran snapped his gaze to Kevin, glaring furiously at his unrepentant twin’s wide grin. “The only thing that’s in the gutter is you in about a minute if you say shit like that again.” Kevin looked unimpressed by the threat, his pale green eyes glinting mischievously.

  “If you pair have quite finished acting like delinquents, would it be too much trouble for you to get our friend here a coffee?” John drawled sardonically, fixing Kieran with a level gaze that had Kieran flushing, then turning to the gleaming black and silver coffee maker to complete the order.

  “No milk, thanks,” a deep voice said, sending shivers down Kieran’s spine. He immediately turned and met deep golden eyes the color of ripe wheat flecked with deep amber and a hint of jade green. The man’s face was deeply tanned, his body thick with muscle, his shoulders wide, his torso arrowing into a perfect “v” shape to a slim waist clad in simple blue denim.

  Kieran gave a yelp of pain as hot steam burned his hand and he yanked his hand away from the steamer quickly, shaking it to relieve the sting.

  “Dude, take a seat. I’ll handle the hardware,” Kevin scolded, shoving Kieran out of the way. Kieran pouted at his brother, then flounced off to run his hand under a cold tap, ignoring John’s look of knowing amusement.

  “Careful there, Kieran,” John said in a sotto voce. “Aston is not someone to play games with.”

  Kieran blinked at John curiously, eyes wide. “I heard you mention Herb and Kim; I didn’t know they had a son. I thought their son died in the tunnels,” Kieran whispered, then froze when the deep voice replied, the tone cold as ice.

  “I was in the tunnels, but I didn’t die there,” the man said. “I’ve been in prison—San Quentin, actually, for the last twenty-five years. Does that satisfy your curiosity or would you like to see my ID, too?”

  Kieran gulped, turning his head slowly. He met the man’s golden eyes again and flinched at the perfect blankness there—no emotion whatsoever showed now. It cut Kieran to the core. Despite the grim caste to the guy’s face, the young shifter sensed the man’s grief churning just below the surface. He hid it well, but it was there in every taut line of his big body.

  “I’m sorry,” Kieran replied sincerely. “We were imprisoned, too. We’ve all lost family along the way because of the Will and the Word. The cult made its mark on this country. I’m sorry for your loss.” Then he turned back to the sink, back straight as a rod, before walking past John into the back kitchen, feeling tears prickle his eyelids.

  * * * *

  Aston sighed heavily, watching as the tall blond walked off. He’d seen the glitter of tears and found enough compassion to feel sorry for him—not something he was used to.

  “There was no need to be an ass,” the sassy blond manning the coffee machine said with a bite to his voice. “My brother was just curious, that’s all. We liked your mom and dad, so it’s natural we’d wonder about their son, who we thought long dead.” A cup of steaming black coffee was plonked in front of Aston, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “It’s on the house,” Kevin said, then strode off without a backward glance to find his brother.

  “Crap,” Aston said, rubbing a weary hand along the nape of his neck.

  “Well, now. That’s something I don’t see every day,” the big Brit behind the counter said cheerfully. Aston looked at him warily, sensing a punchline.

  “What don’t you see every day?”

  “Both of my two exemplary employees beaten in an exchange of words,” the guy said, locking glances with Aston’s. There was a hint of warning there that confused Aston. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, behind bars for most of your life, but take it easy in this town,” the Brit said. “Those two have been through just as much pain and heartache. If you give them any trouble I won’t have any problem escorting you back out of town again.” The warning was more pronounced now, the man’s green eyes dark with lethal promise.

  Aston glanced at the kitchen, sighed again, then turned away and went to sit down, finding a table abutting the rear wall that was facing the room. Years of prison life had taught him a few things—always keep your back to the wall was one he’d learned early.

  Sitting wearily, he inhaled the delicious aroma of pastries, hot coffee, and cinnamon. The dark brew on the table beckoned and his nostrils quivered as he smelled freshly ground Arabica beans. Practically drooling, his lips met the rim of the cup and he sipped slowly, savoring the smooth taste. This might be the last such beverage he had for a while, so he would take his time. He had exactly eleven dollars in his pocket and his clothes were stolen merchandise obtained from a washing line somewhere during his travels eastward. He’d need to find work somehow, or live off the land for a while…he didn’t think Sage would have many opportunities, since he wasn’t dealing too well with the residents so far. He’d been here five minutes and already upset three people.

  A plate containing a piping hot pile of bacon, eggs, sausage, and hash browns landed on the table. Aston jumped, his hand jerking toward his stolen belt where he kept a homemade knife, and met the café owner’s steady gaze. The man sat down without being invited and gestured to the food.

  “That’s on the house, too,” the guy said, appearing to hold no grudges, his tone easy and calm. “You’re the son of a couple I happened to like immensely…that counts for something. The kiddies over there will know in future to be less nosy,” he continued, jerking his chin toward the counter. “I’m John Hastings. I own this place. The two young scallywags are Kieran and Kevin.”

  “Aston,” the jaguar shifter replied and took John’s proffered hand.

  “What happened to get you put away?” John asked, almost casually.

  Aston paused for a moment, then decided to come clean. “I killed a guy, a drug dealer who we ran drugs for. He worked the tunnels beneath here and used to hurt people. He took pleasure in his job. I snapped one day, when he went for my mom, and beat him up—he died. I was twelve. Unfortunately, it was done in front of some cult members, one a sheriff’s deputy, and I was arrested. The rest is history,” Aston concluded bitterly.

  John sat back comfortably in his chair, swiping a hash brown from Aston’s plate with a quick grin. Aston growled territorially, then tucked into the meal with relish, ignoring John’s chuckle.

  “You’ll be needing work, I imagine,” John said, crunching on the crispy potato. “Is there anything you’re good at, besides hitting scum?”

  Aston swallowed the last bite of sausage, his belly feeling full for the first time in weeks. He looked down and saw he’d torn his way through the entire mound of food.

  “I imagine I will,” Aston replied, casting a wary eye on John’s face. The guy was someone to be feared. A man with as much confidence in himself as John had was a man who had hidden depths. A true alpha, he would have no need to posture and preen to show strength, but when needed, he could be lethal. “I’m pretty good at fixing things. Mechanical things.” Aston had learned a few skills in the prison workshops and he enjoyed getting his hands dirty. Tearing apart a stubborn piece of machinery and then putting it back together so it purred was great therapy.