Carver of Hearts

Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Carver of Hearts Copyright 2023 by Lilo Quie Digital ISBN: 978-1-68361-833-1 Paperback ISBN: 978-1-68361-834-8 All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by Decadent Publishing LLC Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three About the Author By Lilo Quie at Decadent Publishing For Carver, being a mustang means a certain degree of freedom. Horses rarely mate, instead choosing a life of polyamory, where all the stallions care for the young and omegas, a society where love is free and open. They say it takes a village to raise a child, but every mustang knows it takes a band to raise a colt. When Carver shows up on their doorstep nursing off a single-souled mare, knock-kneed and weak. Their alpha, Bran Thornbriar knows just what to do, and Carver never knows a day without love, until the season of estrus comes. When spring ravages the Band, no alpha will touch Carver, so he seeks his love elsewhere. And elsewhere may have been right into the hands of the smexiest stallion he’s ever met, and of all the luck, he’s a unicorn. Helios Eventide Moondust, Hell for short, firstborn alpha son of Morningsong of the Moon’s clan hasn’t been welcome in a blessing since he was fifteen, his horn snapped because he wasn’t interested in females. And what’s worse, the only two things unicorns tolerate less than being gay are omegas and strange colors, the impure that are to be sacrificed to the fae upon sight. So when Carver Thornbriar saunters his way into Hell’s bar, a beautiful mare with the blackest coat he’s ever seen, it’s love at first sight, and fate has wonderful things in store for the Thornbriar Band. So, if you like your alphas with some flare, your omegas horny and more unicorns with silly names than you can shake a hoof at, then Carver of Hearts might be for you. Here we are again on another Forsaken adventure. While my stories previous have delt with omegas and their hard pasts, I thought I’d have an omega with murky beginnings, a wonderful life that only gets better and a troubled alpha that finds his place. “Finding Home” is less about healing than it is about belonging. And it’s not always where you think. Carver Forsaken Few Finding Home by Lilo Quie Chapter One Ambrose Ambrose, accustomed to waking of a morning at the brisk crack of noon, lazily stretched and sniffed about, laying over unfamiliar sheets. A pang of guilt settled into his gut that quickly faded away when the sting of the night before reminded him of the fantastic lovemaking that Saxon was capable of. “Morning.” Saxon’s caramel tones soothed Ambrose, as any alpha’s would when dripping with the affection that an omega so craved. “How long have you been up?” Ambrose sniffed indignantly and slid from bed, searching out Saxon’s shower to wash the scent of alpha from him, and maybe cry. He could use a good cry. He always did after a heat, after the seven long days of lust that left him barren as ever. But Saxon didn’t seem to mind. Saxon, in fact, told him he preferred to not have an heir, lamenting that passing on his father’s genes might be a crime. It’d been the fifth heat he’d spent with Saxon, five short years in the span of his long and hard life as a loveless one. The tears flowed so easily when the bathroom door closed and he slid against the cold shower wall, hand rested against his belly. “Ambrose. I’m not deaf. I can hear you sniffling in there.” Saxon barged his way in and wrapped Ambrose in his arms before turning on the luxurious shower. Roman tiles that, hell, may have actually been from Rome in its heyday, knowing Saxon, left patterns on Ambrose’s arm. Peeled away, Ambrose tucked his head and shuddered. “Hey. Take a deep breath and talk to me.” “I’m fine! Hormones. Emotional.” Ambrose made a weak attempt at pushing him away. “Well, there’s a cure for that, isn’t there?” Saxon nibbled the bare expanse of his neck and shoulder, a painful reminder that no male would ever bite him, claim him. Loveless one. “Stop,” Ambrose said flatly. “Stop what?” Saxon did, though, always so good about consent and boundaries, too good. Ambrose would have paid everything he had for Saxon to continue nibbling, to put that bite on him, to be a little less alone, alone with the voices in his head. The whispers that grew louder every year. Loveless one. Wherever the fae had gone so long ago, they still spoke to them. They sent messages like whispers in the wind to their pets, to the descendants of their lovers. He wondered every day why nobody else could hear them, not consciously anyway, while he, a loveless one, had to. “You know what.” Ambrose stiffened in his grasp, the voices louder. Destiny calls. The king of flames summons you. A sleeping sun rises, the mindless one weeps, and the loveless will