Don't Shoot Me Santa

Only he decides who’s a good boy. “I’m building you a place where you don’t have to choose between being strong or safe. You can be both. Or neither. You can just…be.” Two years after escaping the legacy of his infamous serial killer parents, Aaron Jones has finally built something close to peace. A quiet cottage on the windswept Isle of Wight, a rescue dog named Chaos, a job using his behavioural skills, and, of course, a lover, Dr Kenneth Lyons, criminal psychologist, protector, and the only man who’s ever known exactly how to unravel him. Their love is laced...

Only he decides who’s a good boy. “I’m building you a place where you don’t have to choose between being strong or safe. You can be both. Or neither. You can just…be.” Two years after escaping the legacy of his infamous serial killer parents, Aaron Jones has finally built something close to peace. A quiet cottage on the windswept Isle of Wight, a rescue dog named Chaos, a job using his behavioural skills, and, of course, a lover, Dr Kenneth Lyons, criminal psychologist, protector, and the only man who’s ever known exactly how to unravel him. Their love is laced with rules. Trust. And surrender. It’s fragile, hard-won, and impossibly addictive. But peace was never built to last. Not for them. When a teenage boy is found murdered beneath the town’s Christmas lights, Kenny is called in to consult. As more bodies appear, each one draped in seasonal ritual and tied with blood-red ribbons, Aaron is dragged back into the darkness they both swore they’d left behind. To protect the life they’ve built, Aaron agrees to every request Kenny makes. Even if it means offering more of himself and leaning deeper into the darker side of their love, where obedience is devotion, and surrender is the safest place he’s ever known. But as the killer’s ritual unfolds, Kenny’s profile starts to mirror their own past too closely. And Aaron must face what he’s become under Kenny’s hands… and what he’s willing to do to keep him. Because in the season of giving, some obsessions come wrapped in blood-red ribbons. And only Santa decides who’s a good boy.

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