NEW RELEASE
Book Title: Inescapable Fate (D’Vaire, Book 46)
Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley
Cover Artist: LJ Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
Release Date: June 18, 2026
Tense/POV: third person/alternating POV
Genres: M/M Urban Fantasy/PNR
Tropes: Friends to lovers
Themes: Forgiveness
Length: 81 575 words
Heat Rating: 3 flames
It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited
After six years without a word, a once tight friendship is in tatters. But they are mates. They cannot avoid each other forever.
Blurb
Pyxlevir Valzadari is a lucky elf. Loving family, wealth, and beauty are among his advantages. Although young, he is determined to have a successful career working for his father’s company. The other thing Pyxlevir wants is a mate. But he dares not dream about his best friend, Gramlithyn, in that role.
As a hybrid, Gramlithyn Verdanyth stands out in his tribe despite his mother’s insistence that he follow every elven tradition to the letter. Gramlithyn adores his parents and does what he’s told. All his energy goes into telling anyone who’ll listen that he doesn’t want a mate. It’s a lie. Gramlithyn wants Pyxlevir, but his closet pal is too busy fantasizing about a future with anyone but an elf-zebra like him.
Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir met at six years old, and it was an instant connection. For twelve years, they had an incredible friendship. Then Fate intervened and connected their souls. Pyxlevir is shocked, and Gramlithyn is crushed. So, Gramlithyn does the only thing he can think of. He runs from everything and everyone.
Now they’re twenty-four and their worlds have collided again, but is it too late to salvage their matebond?
Excerpt
The soft, earthy scent of carrots wafted toward Pyxlevir, but the man who walked up behind his friend was a stranger.
This wasn’t a hybrid who adhered to elven traditions; Gramlithyn had hacked off his long hair. The longest portion of his fringe didn’t even hit his eyebrows. Tiny silver hoops glittered in his earlobes. A black button-down shirt suited his pale green complexion, and the sleeves were rolled up to expose tattoos on both forearms.
His right arm sported a serpentine dragon, and on the left was a winding vine with leaves and dainty flowers. Whoever had inked him was incredibly skilled, and the black-and-gray images were gorgeous, but tattoos were taboo to every elf. Faded jeans covered his legs, and a pair of worn combat-style boots in the same raven as his top completed the look.
For some inexplicable reason, a sensuous wave of arousal nearly as intense as—or was it perhaps better than—the moment Pyxlevir had discovered Gramlithyn was his mate flowed through him, and he shivered. He dearly hoped the length of his tunic covered his dick’s interest in his other half.
As Pyxlevir stood mute, drinking in the luscious sight of a twenty-four-year-old Gramlithyn and quickly updating his mental image of the teenager who’d abandoned him, the hybrid shooed his best friend out of the doorway.
“Do you want to come in so we can talk?” Gramlithyn asked. Again, he didn’t greet Pyxlevir, nor did he allow any emotion to cross his face. Too much time had passed for Pyxlevir to guess any of the feelings in his dark brown gaze.
Thankfully, the flatness of his question helped Pyxlevir quell his visceral reaction to Gramlithyn. Determined to be aloof, Pyxlevir lifted his chin.
“Of course,” Pyxlevir responded. Gramlithyn turned, and Pyxlevir curled his fingers into fists. The way the light denim clung to Gramlithyn’s ass was a sight now seared into Pyxlevir’s mind. But he dug his nails into his flesh to ensure that he wasn’t distracted by hormones.
It was weird to have sexuality again. As the years passed, Pyxlevir thought less often about the few seconds of arousal he’d experienced on his eighteenth birthday. It turned out that as an elf with an absent mate, the desire to stroke himself to completion had quickly faded.
“Would you like to have a seat?” Gramlithyn asked.
Without a word, Pyxlevir chose the only chair in the room so his reckless body would focus on something besides getting off. He didn’t want to be mired in his emotions, but he also refused to lose himself in some sexual fantasy either.
Gramlithyn settled on the edge of the bed farthest from where Pyxlevir sat. For a heartbeat, they stared at each other without a word. The scent of carrots faded thanks to the distance between them, which helped Pyxlevir drag his mind fully from the gutter. Now all he could feel was sadness that he had no clue what Gramlithyn was thinking.
The last time they’d been in the same room, Pyxlevir would’ve been able to assess Gramlithyn’s emotions with a glance and probably been able to guess exactly what was happening in his head.
Those days were long gone.
“I have a proposal that I hope you’ll take into consideration despite the elven traditions it breaks,” Gramlithyn stated. “Some things are forever…others, not so much. I’d like to suggest that you, me, and our closest friends move in together for a year. They can act as witnesses so that at the end of those twelve months, we can request separation papers and start the process of having our matebond dissolved with a demonic spell.”
Pyxlevir swallowed thickly and wished he’d shown more caution when he received Gramlithyn’s text. But he supposed nothing could have prepared him for six years of silence broken by Gramlithyn’s request that they allow someone of demonic blood to permanently destroy the bond Fate had granted them.
A deep, festering pain started in Pyxlevir’s soul and clutched at his heart. Somehow, it was worse being rejected again. Gramlithyn wasn’t reacting like a scared teenager. The stranger staring at him was a grown man with plenty of time to think about his future. One he preferred Pyxlevir not to have a role in.
He’d already recast someone else as his best friend. It appeared Gramlithyn wanted Pyxlevir firmly in the column of buried history, and it stung. Despite the warm temperature of the hotel, a frigid chill froze Pyxlevir in place, but he refused to allow anything to show outwardly.
The one thing Pyxlevir would not do was let Gramlithyn see or understand how much his words hurt. Tears were already desperate to fall, but Gramlithyn wasn’t privy to that. Not anymore.
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley has published over forty titles and refuses to pick a favorite among them. With an extraordinary passion for her characters, Jessamyn eagerly crafts new tales and avidly re-reads them whenever her schedule allows. Jessamyn shares a home in Nevada with her husband and their three spoiled cats. When she is not writing or adding new ideas to her thick stack of beloved notebooks, she is gaming with family and friends.
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