Why I Wrote The Price of the Hunt

Some stories come from imagination. Others come from fire.

The Price of the Hunt was born from both.

For me, writing has always been more than storytelling. It’s expression. It’s desire. It’s truth in its rawest, most arousing form. I wrote this book to share a piece of that truth with the world. A piece that has lived inside me for a long time.

This story is personal. It’s erotic. It’s Black. And it’s bold.

I don’t see many men, especially black men writing in the erotic space. And even fewer creating rich, immersive fantasy worlds where seduction is sacred, dominance is deliberate, and the characters look, love, and fight like we do. The Price of the Hunt is my answer to that absence. My way of putting power, passion, and pain back into the hands of the kinds of characters I grew up wanting to see.

Osiris, the Moonlight Hunter, is a reflection of that. He is strength and restraint. Violence and control. Black masculinity redefined through myth, magic, and heat. He is a reflection of me. And maybe, in some way, a reflection of what’s missing in the genre.

I want my readers to feel what I feel when I write him. That’s why every scene is so detailed, so immersive. I want you to feel the texture of the world, the tension in the air, the heat of each intimate exchange. I want you to crave the next chapter. To ache for it. To come back because it touched something deeper than just arousal.

But with that honesty comes fear.

This is the first time I’ve taken something this personal and made it public. I’ve written in private for years. Shared pieces with people I trust. But this is different. This is me laying myself bare to be judged; as a writer, as a man, as a creator of something unapologetically erotic. And that’s terrifying.

Still, I know this is only the beginning.

I want The Price of the Hunt to be the first door into a much bigger world. A universe built from everything I love; fantasy, seduction, power, and danger. With the right readers behind me, I know I can tell many stories, not just Osiris’s, but Zahara’s, Tabatha’s, and those still waiting to be born in the shadows.

If Zane Noir becomes anything, let it be a legacy; proof that men, black men, can not only exist in erotica, but excel in it. Let it be inspiration for other creators who look like me. Who love like me. Who burn like me.

This is just the beginning.

—Zane Noir