(Psychic Soulmates 1)
A SearchLight Paranormal Romance
Date Published: May 1, 2026
Publisher: Changeling Press
A stillborn pup, precognition unfulfilled, and raging guilt plague a trans werewolf. Amaruq’s suspicion that there’s something wrong with him, and that the death of his and Nootaikok’s child is his fault, colors all that he does. Traumatized, he denies himself pleasure.
Nootaikok will have none of that. He takes Amaruq on a “working vacation” back to the scene of Nootaikok’s greatest mistake. As both of them struggle with feelings of inadequacy and undeservingness, their bodies and souls still demand release.
Will their fears pull them apart or can passion lead back to love and forgiveness?
They’d started their mentor/mentee relationship with letters. Amaruq didn’t know about Jeremy, but for him, the fear of being found out in this digital age inspired him to write physical correspondence. Amaruq had a feeling he should be sharing these concerns with his mate, but he couldn’t bear for Nootaikok to know how guilty he felt. So, he wrote to the Night Wanderer who had become his friend.
Dear Jeremy,
I hate what I have become. I’m a sneak who doesn’t know how to apologize to my lover for losing our child. I get it that a stillbirth isn’t exactly my fault. I did nothing to make it happen. The issue is that I don’t want to try again. Try for another baby. It wasn’t just losing our child, our pup, but the dysmorphia I endured being pregnant when I’ve worked so hard to be my authentic male werewolf self. I do not, no matter what, regret that Nootaikok and I were trying for a baby. I don’t. I just don’t want to try again. In spite of my precognitive vision. That future glimpse guarantees I’ll be pregnant again at some point, as I saw Nootaikok and I surrounded by werewolf pups of many ages. I just don’t want to be.
I also dread Nootaikok finding out.
Speaking of dread, I can easily believe Nootaikok is angry with me for making him leave his position in DC. I’m afraid of the argument we’ll eventually have. I just wanted to be near you, where I’ve always felt safe. That’s the wrong kind of emotion to have for someone who isn’t my mate. Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not sexually attracted to you in any way. It’s just that you rescued me from the hell of living under my parents’ roof and inspired me to become part of the Miscellaneous Magical Creatures Department. It’s just that, now that you’ve moved to DC, I want to return. I know Nootaikok wouldn’t get his job back, though, and I don’t want him to be humiliated by having to walk those same halls every day as just a tracker and not the head of the whole world’s Tracker Central.
He stopped his pen before he could disclose more about his fears. Surely this letter, which was basically a rambling jumble of all his terror, wouldn’t help anything.
He shredded the page and tossed it in the garbage can in the den. There would be no leaving it around for someone else to discover.
Today, Friday, was his last day of parental leave. On Monday, he’d be expected to resume his work at the MMCD. He needed to pull himself together.
With that in mind, Amaruq looked around the den and then down at himself. He still looked slightly pregnant. He’d been slowly exercising away the pounds he’d gained as he tried to make a hospitable home for their pup to grow. Since he was a werewolf, he wouldn’t look ready to deliver much longer. Maybe six weeks total, which would mean another week or two.
He headed for the doorway to the den, determined to go for a run and maybe, by doing so, make himself feel more grounded in his body and less like a spirit drifting over the earth, unattached to anything but pain.
* * *
They were arguing again. For crying out loud, Nootaikok thought, it’s like he’s my spouse instead of my tracker partner.
He glared at Luis, the psychic vampire with whom he’d been paired less than six months ago. Luis was, by all accounts, including his own, one of the best damn negotiators/spies/hunters/executioners in the United States. Luis’s prowess was matched only by the arrogance Nootaikok swore radiated off him in waves now. Funny, but the infernal psychic vampire hadn’t struck Nootaikok as full of himself when he’d accompanied Tilthos Charles to the international meeting of magical creatures that had happened over a year ago.
At first, when he and Luis initially began working together, Nootaikok had borne Luis’s grief and discontent. Luis’s former tracker partner had moved with his mate to the nation’s capital, and Luis had been understandably upset. He and his former partner had worked together for a decade or more, becoming one of the most formidable tracker teams in the world.
However, Nootaikok had been dealing with Luis’s grumpiness for close to half a year, and the frustration he felt was threatening to boil over.
He took in a breath, counting to five before releasing it soundlessly. “Luis,” he said, “I’m not injured. I heal as quickly as any werewolf, and I have earned the right to take the risks other trackers do. Please don’t hamper my working or your own. Going out without another tracker when I’m standing right here is foolish.” He paused, saw Luis was about to object, and added, “I don’t want to be the one to take your dead body back to Tilthos Charles.”
That last got through. Nootaikok could see it in the dropping of Luis’s shoulders and the way he pressed his lips together. Tilthos Charles, Charlie to those closest to him, was the alpha of their shared pack. He was also Luis’s mate and husband. Less than a year ago, Tilthos Charles had been the target of malicious intent from other werewolves and the former queen of the grand fae. He’d suffered what would have been called in humans of the 1900s a “nervous breakdown.” He’d been healed but, since it was less than twelve months since he’d recovered, Luis was understandably protective.
“Fine,” Luis muttered. “Are you ready to go?”
Nootaikok checked the gun in its holster at the small of his back. “Yes.”
“Come on then.” Luis strode out of his office, leading the way toward the back parking lot.
Nootaikok kept pace with him. “Tell me about this one.”
“Didn’t you read the briefing?” Luis demanded.
Sighing, Nootaikok answered, “She’s most likely a werewolf or half werewolf. It’s unlikely she’s from the United States as the humans she’s left alive say she spoke to them in a thick Russian accent. That doesn’t preclude her being from the US, though.”
“Or she’s been sent here.”
They settled into Luis’s car, which Nootaikok didn’t like, because it meant Luis got to drive. Luis was his alpha’s mate, and Nootaikok wasn’t a werewolf so dominance didn’t affect him as much. Still, he liked being in charge of his own transportation. Years of being the senior member of his own tracker team had spoiled him. Also, when he’d been the leader of Tracker Central in Washington, DC, he hadn’t been at anyone’s mercy.
“One of the sharpshooters managed to get a tag on her,” Luis said. “Let me check the GPS and see if she’s still where they left her.”
“She was in a village not too far from here,” Nootaikok said. He wanted to ask why the sharpshooter hadn’t taken her out since she’d been killing humans. Before he could formulate the question in a way that would possibly cause less offense, Luis cursed.
“She’s headed toward the pack house.”
Nootaikok pulled out his phone as Luis peeled out of the parking lot.
Luis commanded, “Call the house. Tell whoever’s there to get everyone inside.”
Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.
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