“‘Yeah baby!’ said nobody, because this was not good.”
--The Austin Powers novelization
You’re laughing. Lord Byron is bros with a time-traveling heterochromatic sexy alien werecat, and you’re laughing.
Firstly, I am not a romance reader. I’ve read romances, but I am not a regular of the genre. I say this because maybe it’s why I’m the only one who wonders how deeply specific weird premises like this turn people on, as I’ve been told about by various con-goers who return with tales of shit not unlike this (but often gayer). Don’t get me wrong, I’m throwing stones in glass houses with my love of pulpy, bizarre horror, and the fact that I have a healthy amount of weird kinks myself. But when you read something like this, you gotta find it absurd, right? Or is there such a threshold of overexposure to the strangeness of individual niche tastes in the genre that there are folks who not only take it seriously, but get all hot and bothered for it? I do at least have an admiration for something that so utterly lacks self-consciousness and instead embraces its very, very specific taste with something almost like pride.
Secondly, this book was given to me by a friend who *is* a romance reader and thought its weirdness was funny enough for me to try. She knows me too well and should be executed before the knowledge spreads. I absolutely read this batshit pile of Regency-flavored horny from cover to cover as a personal challenge to my own waning sanity. Though frankly it’s “Regency-flavored” in the way that LaCroix is “fruit-flavored.”
I also didn’t know until now that it’s technically a sequel, and our titular Rejar the alien werecat had been introduced in another novel, which is also probably why a bunch of stuff about the world of time-travelling were-whatevers (“Familiars”) wound up dumped in my lap with little context. Male Familiars are more than just were-beings, warriors, and time-travelers, though: they’re sexy sex gods of sex who can feel women’s “energy” or some shit and “enhance” their sensuality through some sexy “enhancer.” From the moment Rejar in cat-mode pops unceremoniously into the world of early 1800s London and meets the heroine Lilac (of course her fucking name is Lilac) who adopts him as a pet, he’s zeroed in on her “pulse flow of female energy.”
Look, this is a smut book about a part-animal entity. I know just enough about this loose genre of fetish to have a working knowledge of its horny tropes. Just fucking say it. Just say he’s catching a whiff of her vag, because we all expect some reference to being “in heat” to appear soon anyways. Just like you should say the “enhancer” is probably a big dick that bends just right for maximum g-spot stimulation. Let’s not beat around the bush, pun intended. Queer men at least have the decency to admit frankly that they want to eat a used jock strap. Subtlety is not for books about horny werecats.
But Rejar isn’t a queer man. He loves women. The narrative tells us how much he loves women...lots. In an early scene, a Lord Creighton calls on Lilac’s home and within moments the chad Rejar is roasting his short hair as unmasculine. Real space-cat male beings have long manes. This virgin dandy sniffs disdainfully at unfashionable decor. Joy, in true 90s straight lady style, wants us to see what a limp wrist he is and cringe at his resultant unsexiness and inferiority. Rejar, already territorial over Lilac because he’s a throbbing man-cat-man-man with good hair, promptly trolls Creighton as a cat, and the fop goes fleeing into the streets from a smug domestic pet that meanwhile becomes offended when Lilac, currently unaware that he’s more than feline, pretty much calls him a chonky boi twice.
Little did I know that the attempts at comedy were also foreshadowing of what kind of romance plot archetype this novel would specifically take. Rejar is a sinuous, seething sex beast who worships women with a fixation like he should probably go to therapy for it. Rejar is also just the king of everything. Every manly, sexy thing you can think of, he’s done it and better. He’s a moving wall of muscle with telepathy, Jedi mind tricks, a deep purring baritone that exact sensual cadence you just thought of right now upon reading this sentence, and if you ask him whether he’s had sex in a gondola, he’ll not only have done it twice but also list off the other types of floating vessels he’s fucked on as well. Which is all of them. Probably ones not even invented yet, because time travel. If Rejar’s dick were any more bomb, women would have to take cover in a lead-lined fridge to survive it. His cock would be confiscated as a biological weapon. And I cannot imagine sleeping with a man so perfect because he must be goddamn insufferable. Dara Joy hasn’t created a heartthrob, she’s created a nightmare. No amount of “enhancer”-facilitated multiple orgasms can be worth dealing with him outside of his existence as a sentient vibrator. I appreciate an angle of this fetish being that he turns into a cat now.
Apparently I’m not the only one who shares this opinion to some degree, because Lilac is also unimpressed by his human-form seduction that he inflicts on her in the middle of the night and then finally in waking hours. She does throw him off his game by exclaiming about how big his junk is ad-nauseum the first time he shows himself off to her, which unsettles him a bit to be falgrantly and non-sexually gawked at. It almost made me like Lilac for a fraction of a second, which was a fraction too long. She’s not a good character, and even peeking at a few of the reviews here, I agree with most who admit she’s irritating when she’s not being a beige piece of paper. Lilac is pretty much designated the obsession of Rejar with little preamble aside from some throwaway comment that he senses they are particularly made for each other, and in due Twilight form, this seems verified by the fact that she’s the only one who seems immune to his sheer aura. Rejar initially blames this on too many shitty, non-enhanced dudes she’s boned in the past, making her disenfranchised to men as whole, but it’s never explained outside of artificial belligerent tension for the sake of some kind of arc. Oddly, people seem to dislike Lilac most for being mean to Rejar. Well Rejar fucking deserves it. He smirks around like she’s a silly earthling child who doesn’t know he already owns her, and said smirk is pretty much his response to 90% of the things she does while also ignoring all of her very clear insistences that she doesn’t fucking like him. He’s a beefcake with a perpetual shit-eating grin.
But I get it. People seem to like that, at least in fiction. In real life, Rejar would be the kind of guy who tries to send you a dick pic on Linkedin while prefacing it with flirtatious Ren Faire-speak. He’s the guy who calls you “kitten” and acts like you’re his sub from the first sentence of a PM you received because he creeped on your Instagram out of the blue. But clearly Joy’s fetish is a smug, stalkerish hot manly man who plays dom while she gets to sass him yet also be totally bought into him and his huge, throbbing “personality.” Though if I hear the word “sapskull” or “scapegrace” one more time, I’m going to drop an entire antique armoire on Lilac’s head.
Meanwhile there’s Lorgin and Deana. I’m distressed at how close phonetically Lorgin’s name is to my own. He’s the alien heartthrob and she’s the normie earthling beau from the first novel, it seems, though now wed and heavily pregnant. I have no idea if Lorgin is even all that different from Rejar, as they all try to haughtily command their love interests who seem to be the only women defiant of them, though Deana seems marginally more interesting than Lilac for at least being a nerd from the modern era. (History and scifi nerd from the 90s and the leading lady of the first novel? Probably an author self-insert.) Time travel gobbledigook happens as Lorgin goes to rescue Rejar, who is clearly doing just fucking fine being obsessed with Lilac and swapping actually not all that impressive sex stories with Byron, which I feel like is a form of shitting on the poor man’s grave. Don Juan is based off of Rejar now--don’t check Wikipedia, it’s completely true--and our Familiar has also hired a literal green-garbed Irish stereotype to Lucky Charm him around town in a coach; your brother is having the time of his goddamn life, Lorgin. But really Rejar’s bro is here so that Joy can have a comedic scene between him and Deana that isn’t actually funny. Then they leave and we barely see them again except for more jokes about impending alien fatherhood.
For most of the novel, though, the plot...ish...thing continues in Rejar stalking Lilac and just grinning like a jackass at her vehement rebuffs while also seducing her bit by bit in what she takes to be her “dreams.” Of course, Rejar finds himself completely taken by Lilac, her presence so “calming” he falls asleep on her during a carriage ride date she didn’t even want to go on. Other characters, such as Lilac’s aunt who is, according to the book, “a good judge of character,” ship her with this dude who doesn’t know the meaning of no and already has a reputation as a rake. He also has no personality outside of “male” and smug and “cat,” so I don’t know how this aunt picked up on anything to speak of. The icing on the cake is when halfway through the novel, Rejar reveals to Lilac and her aunt that they’ve been intimate together, and therefore he’s obliged to marry her because she’s “compromised.”. Lilac, learning that this guy has not only creeped on her enough to name an intimate birthmark, but has now finagled her into a marriage against her will, understandably faints. For a cat-man in love and enchanted with what a hold this girl has on him he sure, uh, seems more interested in getting what he wants than anything to do with her feelings. I also like how Rejar, just chapters ago baffled by mechanical objects as foreign technology and later established as unable to read English, knows plenty about the social mores of Regency England enough to trick Lilac into a forced marriage. Did Byron tell him that one?
Lilac nearly tries to escape, but this bit of intrigue is over before it begins and Rejar even tricks her with telepathy into saying “I do” at the altar. Then they have actual sex for the first time after chapters of hatred and (not a) dream-foreplay. Lilac is a virgin, is mostly saying no the entire time because she didn’t even want this fucking relationship, and Rejar still picks her up and pops her cherry against a mirror with his established-as-club-sized cock because something something Familiar “mating ritual.” It’s...disturbing, frankly. He also later forces her into sex for disobeying his order not to go out without his escort, and then again as a result of some conversation he took offense to that I honestly don’t remember well. But of course, despite her lack of consent in any of it, Lilac is soon in raptures every time. She still hates him, but he apparently does this thing where he jams his nose into the crook of her neck and intermittently licks her in his sleep that she finds...endearing.
I’m canceling straight people forever.
Rejar does, much much later, figure out that he mated/married a woman who doesn’t love him and has some sad and tragic manly feelings about that. I guess the insistent expressions of loathing during their courtship, her botched attempt to flee their wedding day, the fact that he had to trick her into marriage at all, and her continual disdain and defiance throughout their marital life (when he isn’t fucking her brains out whether she wanted it or not) he just took as the usual feminine coyness or whatever men with all the emotional intelligence of Mr Collins think women are doing when they clearly dislike them. Of course, by the time he realizes this, Lilac herself has climaxed her way into a fondness for him and doesn’t want her magic Hitachi hubby to fuck off as much anymore. There’s more that unfolds beyond this, and it’s goofy as hell. Just know at some point there’s an alien wizard involved.
The other Familiar brother, Traed, also shows up to hang out in England but not really for any reason other than to remind us that this is a series and he is a character in it who probably has his own book and his own beau at some point. Traed is kind of the Scary Spice of the siblings, and his life in this novel isn’t consumed with trying to fuck someone who doesn’t like him, so I automatically enjoy him and his scenes tooling around with Lilac’s spinster aunt much better. There’s some fight with a dude named Rotewick that happens later in the book, and mostly involves Traed, but by that point it’s another dose of plotishness that doesn’t matter very much and arrives too late anyway. There’s also the inevitable subplot with a woman who wants to seduce Rejar pretending to be Lilac’s friend, but she gets called out and fucked into oblivion by Traed instead.
The writing itself is Not Good. It’s at least edited somewhat, as opposed to certain fanfics, but of about the same caliber of writing as one. No one talks like a real person. Overwrought and overused words happen a lot, and the descriptions of smut content become cringy at times as a result--which is the most damnable problem with this book because its one real job here is to turn us on. This is especially evident in that Joy seems to run out of ways to describe how hot Rejar is, and so falls back on a kind of constant reminding us of how MAN and MALE he is. For example:
“Her bare chest. There, he observed her silently for several minutes, his knowing look very frank and very male.”
Friends, my brain cannot for the life of me register what is meant by ”male” in this context. Is there a specifically male way to look at breasts and what is it? Does this come with the manual that I didn’t get because I’m not AMAB? Is frank gawking at boobs in itself what is meant by male? What does his face even look like in this moment, outside of the vagueness of “knowing”--is it flatly scientific or practically slavering? Does he look like he’s appraising the finish on a car? Or does he just have a raging hard-on and that’s what this means? It’s not the only instance of this weird use of gender where an actual description should exist.
Also: note the “several minutes.” Not “a couple,” but “several.” So I guess Rejar was just giving her the Kubrick stare like Jack Torrence slowly going insane in the Overlook for at least four or five whole minutes while Lilac laid there, tits out, and said nothing. This sentence haunts me in ways indescribable.
And it’s only a sentence in 350 pages worth of them. I read another sentence of Rejar, I pause to stare at the copy of Titus Groan sitting closed beside me, and I sigh. But I must go on. I can't go on. I'll go on.