Hey there! It’s the first Wednesday of the month, which is when I share an excerpt of a work in progress and invite you to do the same. It’s usually stuff that’s too raw for critique, so we don’t do that in the comments, but a friendly word is always welcome.
Last month I told you that I’d been in a dry spell because of things going on at work. I work full-time, and while I never want that to be an excuse as a writer, it can be a challenge. I’m happy to say that in March and added about 9,000 words to book two of my paranormal romance trilogy. I also wrote another intense scene for book three that I really obsessed over.
This is a scene from book two, The Equinox Stone! Tristan is suffering from amnesia and psychic damage, and Val is an empath and mage who helped repair his psyche when it was fracturing. She’s been ordered to stick close to him in case it happens again, and Tristan convinced her to share the same bed with him — platonically. By the way, the stock photo I chose for this post isn’t quite right, because Val is much plumper than that lady. But I figured it would have to do.
This has somewhat adult content, but nothing really happens!
[AdSense-B]
Val woke up very warm. Someone was holding her. What in the world—
It all flooded back to her. Tristan. One of his strong arms wrapped around her, hugging her close, her back against his broad chest. The stubble on his cheek grazed the back of her neck, and his even, deep breaths stirred and tickled her hair.
She’d been sleeping in her usual half-curled position, with her bare legs bent at the knees. His legs, in sweat pants, nestled against them, his thighs against the back of her thighs, his hips fitted against hers.
Oh, Goddess. The bulge of his unconscious arousal pressed against her backside.
This was nothing. It was normal. It happened to guys in their sleep—didn’t it?
Her mind veered back to his memory at Caverns of Sonora. He’d glimpsed down at his tattoo, and she’s seen his naked body, just for an instant. She imagined taking a longer look, running her hands over his bare skin…
She was reverting back to a hormonal teenager again. That couldn’t be good. She should get up. But that would wake him, and he probably needed more rest. His emotional signature hummed in faint, steady contentment: a sleep without dreams.
“Vega.”
Capitán Renaud’s loud voice jolted her out of her comfort. She extricated herself from Tristan’s embrace and sat up, touching the heel of her hand to her chest in an automatic salute. Behind her, Tristan stirred with a grunt.
Capitán clasped his hands behind his back. “Any more disturbances?”
“No.” Heat rushed into her cheeks.
Tristan gave an easy laugh, threw off the covers, and got up. “Morning. Be right back.” She hazarded a glance at him as he sauntered to the adjoining bathroom. His erection showed plainly through the gray sweat pants. He didn’t appear to care, which was exactly what she would have expected from him.
Capitán lifted an eyebrow as the door closed behind Tristan. “Vega, your job is to make sure his psyche doesn’t fracture again. You’re not required to be his stuffed animal.”
It wasn’t the most flattering description of her, but maybe it was apt. Anyway, it made things simple. Capitán disapproved of any involvement, and she would keep her distance. “Yes, sir.”
“It’s your choice.” Well, that wasn’t so simple, after all.
*
Okay, it’s your turn! Share a paragraph or a page in the comments below (nothing hotter than my excerpt, though, please.) Or if you like, tell us what you’re working on and how it’s going, or just say hi. And if you want to make sure you don’t miss future WIP Wednesdays, follow the blog, if you aren’t already — you can sign up below. Thanks for stopping by!
An attempted start –
The final chords of The Moldau reverberated through the empty seats of the Kennedy Center Concert Hall, trying to find their way back to their source, hitting wall after wall until they decayed into silence. Ellen always found The Moldau’s closing cadence wistful. A special kind of loneliness was imagined in their powerful yet solitary declaration.
Her personal reverie was interrupted by the players’ representative’s mundane announcement of call time and dress. She only half-listened as she packed her flute in its case. She stood up and stretched. Her unusually hard morning workout still left her stiff. She really needed to slow down.
“Fancy lunch?” Mildred said, looking up from her chair. Mildred and Ellen had been sitting side-by-side for the past two years. Their relationship was cordial. The routine was simple: one would ask the other about lunch, the other would decline, the offerer would then say, “Rain check, then.” And they would go their separate ways.
“No, thank you, I have to teach lessons at GW today. Some other time, maybe.”
“Rain check, then.” Mildred smiled and left the stage.
As Ellen was walking out, her phone signaled a text. She checked the screen, and froze. Kevin was texting her. But why? They haven’t talked in three years. She slipped into her SLC Roadster and read the text. “Ellen, this is kevin. We need to talk. Tonight. 1349 Good Hope Rd SE. 9pm”
Ellen stared in disbelief. Three years of silence and then a summons to one of the worst parts of town at night? She quickly typed in, “confirmation code k627”
“Never happened”
“Cy”
“Dz”
Ellen sighed. It really was him. But why now? Why there? She started her car and drove off into the gray day, pregnant with snow, to teach.
Hi, Mark! I looked up the Moldau because I never heard of it before. .. this is such a good description! “Ellen always found The Moldau’s closing cadence wistful. A special kind of loneliness was imagined in their powerful yet solitary declaration.”
I am really curious about what’s going on here! Thanks so much for posting!
And thank YOU for replying! So glad I piqued your curiosity. Let us hope the rest of the book fares as well!
Write On!
Come back next month and show us more!
Wow, so descriptive. But that ending has me wanting to know more.
YAY! I’m so glad to hear that. Thanks for commenting. 🙂
Very Interesting. I want to know more.
Thanks for reading and commenting!
“You’re not required to be his stuffed animal.” That’s hilarious!
I’ve finished my first edit of the 1st book in my trilogy and am now working on the 2nd. I don’t want to release the 1st one until I have the other 2 finished or close to finished because I am finding that as I work on book 2, there’s things that happened in book 1 that just don’t fit with book 2, so I am having to change things. Simple things like times lines, etc., but still, it want the 3 books to be seamless.
Anyway, here’s a snippet of book 2.
Ricky was more than a keen observer, he had an unnatural ability to synthesize all details, nuances, and subtleties and be able to reconstruct accurately all aspects of a situation. He had learned of this ability early when he had tried to convince himself that Laura had lied to him regarding their relationship as teenagers. He spent 10 years trying to hold on to imagined anger in order to keep from getting hurt again. When she walked back into his life in August, all his walls came crumbling down. He didn’t have her ability to feel emotions, but, he knew she loved him, and always had.
Ricky looked up towards the cliff, he saw a woman standing looking down at him. Although she was very far away, he could see her wave at him before she moved out of his view. He knew he was expected. Ricky ran his right hand through his thick dark hair and made his way up the narrow, rocky path.
About 30 minutes later, Ricky stood at the top of the trail. The woman he had seen before was seated on a bench near the trail. She stood when she saw him. She was wearing a long red gown with her dark black hair flowing behind her. She smiled.
“Ricardo,” she said softly. “It is so good to see you.” She spoke Galician, a language Ricky’s father had made him learn as a child. “I realize that you have many questions, please, come in,” She motioned to a nearby house.
Ricky didn’t move. He knew this woman, he had seen many pictures of her when she was younger. Time had aged her, but her beauty still shone brightly. He held back tears. He knew this woman to be his mother, but he had been told she had died giving birth to him. He knew now that there were so many secrets.
She smiled again, and held out her hand to him. “Please, my son, you must understand that we did what we did to protect you.”
He took her hand, then hugged her. He no longer held back the tears.
Thanks, Sara! Okay, I’m in the exact same situation with my trilogy! Writing book two and thinking ahead to book three is leading to little tweaks on book one.
This is such a funny thing – I only learned the other day that Galician was a language! I found it out when doing research for my WIP.
Oh man, I am sucker for tearful reunions. You don’t even know. This whole situation is so lovely and dreamlike. I hope I get to see more 🙂
Thanks, it gets better. He then goes on to find out that his mentor from college, who is also his girlfriend’s boss, is actually his father, and the man who got murdered, the one he thought was his father, was actually his uncle, his mother’s brother. It’s quite the twist, you get some hints that there is relation there in the first book, but then you get this in the 2nd.
You better put tissues needed warning when you publish this so I’m forewarned lol. Nice read.
This is a scene from my current WiP, the ‘Book of Nine.’ It is a dream sequence in which the mMC has some questions answered. Musette is a High Priestess of sorts, and she is a friend of the mMC. Sorry if it’s a little long.
***
He drifted off into a deep rest, laying to his side and allowing the slumber to take him. As the dreams became lucid, Tommy felt awake but knew he was within the realm of dreams. Standing on a hillside overlooking the waters, a dark bearded man in a long white robe walked near him. The man moved with the aid of a walking stick, and he appeared to be holding the Book of Nine.
The man stepped to Tommy. “Do you know; the ships that anchor in this harbor brings men that seek treasures? Treasures that can only be a gift, but the men come trying to possess the treasures to themselves?”
Tommy looked down at the harbor. “What is the treasure?”
The man smiled and moved close to the edge of the cliff. “You already know the answer.”
Tommy sat down. “The answers I seek may be a treasure, but I can’t find them here. I’m seeking answers, not things.”
“If you find your answer, what will you do with it?”
Tommy thought for a moment. “I’ll use it to create.”
The man walked back to Tommy and sat. “And your creation? What will you do with it?”
“I’m only a collaborator, not the creator of the work.”
“No… You are both… You are the collaborator and the creator. One and the same.” The old man snickered. “Sausage…”
Tommy turned and saw his Grandfather sitting next to him. “Sausage? What does that mean?”
His Grandfather grinned. “The process is not always pretty, but the final creation is a flavor that becomes an essence to its own.”
Tommy’s brows narrowed. “What does that…?” He turned and saw a man in a black robe sitting next to him.
“Your creation… is it a possession or a gift?” The man’s voice was deep and soft.
Tommy shook his head. “Nothing can ever truly be possessed; all we have may only be given away, or it will become lost… It would be given away.”
The man stood. “What is it you seek?”
“To understand.”
The man transformed his appearance. Musette formed then reached her hand to Tommy. “Stand with me.”
He stood and looked into her eyes. They burned like a fire, but not of a flame; rather, the burning of a star.
“What you’ve been seeking is more than you are aware and is for all whom you love.” Her voice was strong and kind.
“Can you explain this?”
She smiled. “For me to explain how to travel the stars, you must first understand that it is like your mother explaining the world you will be born while you are still within her womb. You would hear the sounds, but you would not understand what is being said.” Walking to the edge of the cliff, Musette turned to Tommy. “Words are limited to thought and thought is limited by the very words. To learn higher communication, you must go beyond thought. There is the great intelligence of which thought is only a very small fraction, and you are part of the greater intelligence. It is within you now. When you know this… you will travel the stars.” She had a hand up pointing to the sky and the other pointing to her chest, to her heart.
“Can you tell me in a way I might understand?”
She giggled and put her hands down. “I thought you would never ask!” She reached out her hands.
He walked to her.
Her voice was gentle. “When we know of energies, we can then let the thought structures that build concepts go. When we go beyond thoughts, we allow a higher awareness of not only energies, but that energy is in waves, and as all waves are, we may realize the side-bands. Quantum!”
He sat down suddenly and looked up to Musette. “Are you talking about dimensional travel or star travel?”
Musette giggled. “There is a difference?”
“So… You are saying they are the same?”
She moved to the edge and turned back. “Yes.”
“How many dimensions are there?”
“Now that is a question I cannot answer, but… an Ancient once said—There are more dimensions unknown than those that are known—He placed the number at sixty-seven.”
“Only sixty-seven?”
She laughed. “Sixty-seven to the twelve-hundredth power.”
“Oh, man…” He felt his awareness expand. “That is a lot!”
“Let’s put it this way… if you counted from one for each aforementioned dimensions the moment the physical dimensional universe formed, you would still count long after the physical dimension had dissolved. And that is only the known dimensions!”
Tommy moved to Musette. “Can I ask one more question?”
She lifted her head and closed her eyes. “Ask me, and if I can answer the question, I will.”
“You’ve explained what to travel… but how do we travel?” His face washed with anticipation.
“Silly. I told you… it is all about energies… not only waves and side bands… but what other characteristic does energy have?”
Tommy looked up into the sky, and a smile appeared on his face. “Densities! It is all about densities!”
“Go… reconcile with your flame.” Musette glowed and then she was gone.
Hi, Lee! I was hoping you would post. I love how everything sounds so mystical and then the guy says, “Sausage…” Hahaha. This is really nice, too: “For me to explain how to travel the stars, you must first understand that it is like your mother explaining the world you will be born while you are still within her womb. You would hear the sounds, but you would not understand what is being said.” I really enjoyed reading it! I hope you do it again (no pressure, though!)
Thanks, Bryn! I’ll post more next time, but I might post on your blog – Why So Many People Like the “Chosen One” Story -. The prologue to Book of Nine has a prophecy. Peace
What an interesting read. Thank you for sharing.
Nice excerpt, Bryn. The stuffed animal line is fun and unique. I’ll share a link on my blog today. Here’s an excerpt from my short story “First Contact: Decimus and Jaal”:
Decimus was only half dreaming. His sister stood over him, shotgun in hand, shielding him with a biotic bubble. His limbs were too heavy to lift. His lips wouldn’t move. Had he been shot? He couldn’t remember getting on the shuttle, much less landing planetside. What was Habitat Seven supposed to look like anyway?
If he could just wake up enough to ask her.
A shadow rose behind her. He tried to shout a warning, but his lips were too heavy to move. Darkness enveloped him again.
Three times it happened: She shielded him, and he struggled to speak. Each time the shadow was a different size, a different shape. And each time he reached for consciousness, his sister drifted away.
“I miss you,” she whispered in the distance.
Read the rest of this story here
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Thank you for reading! I’m DAfan7711 on Tumblr, Pinterest, and Archive of Our Own (AO3), where guests and registered users alike can read my stories.
DAfan you have such a great imagination. I read the rest of the story at AO3. And you don’t have to know the game at all to enjoy it! Wow, I love your description of the alien’s voice especially 🙂
I always enjoy what you share, thank you.
Thanks, KC!
This is an excerpt from my Camp novel I’m trying to work on. I seem to be always JUST behind on my word count. It’s the beginning.
—–
The sway of the cart remained the only constant as Jovan drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes, she heard people talking, but the words never amounted to coherence, the only thing she knew from the sounds of them: she was amongst strangers. And not kind ones either. The pounding in her head kept up, intensifying in the bits of true wakefulness when they fed her food and water, the latter cut with drugs. She could taste the bitter tang in each mouthful.
They went for a few days, she counted nearly a week, and then they threw her over their shoulder like a sack of flour. With a shoulder in her stomach, and a none-too-gentle hand around her thigh, she pried her eyes open and tried to mark a path. Unfortunately, the world shifted and seized around little details, forming trails of color that popped before her eyes and sprang like fireworks.
There were several jarrings twists and one especially nauseating turn as her carrier slid along the ground. They laughed and slapped her thigh in amusement, chatting with whoever walked beside him. The other’s boots would slip occasionally into her view, red leather with silver cords wrapped and threaded carefully through eyelets.
By the time they finished, the only thing Jovan knew was that she was going to throw up. The feeling settled in her gut and stayed there. So, when she was placed on an uncomfortable mattress on the ground, she did just that. All over the red leather boots. She got a kick in the face for it, her sick mixing with new blood and an obviously broken nose.
Hey, good for you for doing NaNo Camp! This actually made me feel queasy, and I wasn’t expecting the extra brutality at the end. It’s a great place to open… from page one you’re rooting for Jovan. Thanks for sharing!
Wow, poor Jovan. I second with Bryn about it making me feel queasy as well. An interesting read.
Well, first of all it’s impressive (and a little intimidating) that you can write 9,000 words in a month while maintaining a full-time job. I barely work and struggle getting 9,000 words in three times as long. More importantly, what you’ve let us see here is great so far. I look forward to reading more.
OK, so I’m working on a story about a randy Cat-man detective. He’s the offspring of Bastet the Egyptian Cat Goddess and a museum guard she recruited to help recover a stolen Egyptian artifact. The origin won’t be explored in too much detail in the first book, but it will come up later in the series. This first story is a murder mystery. Here’s the segment I happen to be working on today. FYI, Mousy is what he calls his chew toy…
Art is giving me quite a deal on rent. In addition, he’s agreed to look the other way regarding me running a business out of a residence without the proper permits or insurance or whatever. Honestly, I’m not exactly sure what kind of bureaucratic bullshit I’m supposed to have, but people have told me there are rules about this sort of thing. I don’t think Art would be liable anyway, but it probably wouldn’t look good for him if I were to get cited. Every once in awhile, he calls to tell me some inspector from the city or state or wherever the fuck is planning on dropping by and I’ll take the “Snowball—Cat Detective” sign off my door. For my part, I’ve agreed to provide certain pest control services to the residence of the building.
After dropping off my camera equipment and Mousy at the office, I head up to see Janet Fields. I knock and the door instantly opens. She stands in the doorway looking like Ginger from Gilligan’s Island, leaning with one hand on the wall and the other on her hip. She’s wearing a low-cut glittery dress that shows off a cheetah pattern of freckles on her chest, and almost a nipple. Her hair is artificially curled and stiff from some unpleasant-smelling product. I’m not all that picky when it comes to the human figure. I recognize when a body is the type generally approved of by other humans, as Samantha Healy’s is. She’s not quite in Samantha Healy’s league, but at almost fifty years old, Janet Fields is as shapely a human as I’ve ever seen. Maybe it’s the lack of stress from never having kittens—or, I guess in her case—children.
“Hello, Snowball, it’s great to see you.” She smiles, flashing lipstick-smeared teeth.
“Hi Janet. Art says you have a mouse.”
She laughs. “I do, indeed. Come on in.”
Hi Ryan! You’re too kind. This is one of the most original characters I’ve heard about in a while… and I love the backstory with Bastet and the museum guard. That’s amazing! I really liked this especially: “I recognize when a body is the type generally approved of by other humans, as Samantha Healy’s is.” So glad you posted!
Thanks, Bryn. I often think about your “Someone’s Already Written A Story Like Yours” post from a few months back. Originality may be the single most difficult thing to pull off these days. Thanks to the internet, and everyone’s ability to know every idea anyone has ever had about anything.
Don’t stop writing this one; I wanna buy it. I love the snippet.
I’m having some fun participating in the 2017 A to Z Blog Challenge. (Some letters are proving to be more than a challenge!) Actually, today all I’ve done is work on my income tax return. What fun! LOL!
I hadn’t heard about that challenge, Janet… I should look into it! I love that kind of thing. And haha, yeah, we just got done with our taxes… it is always such a relief to get them finished!
This is the beginning of a YA fiction, I have been toying with for over a decade. It is finally coming together and I have the first 26 pages done so far. I have been an aspiring writer for the majority of my life and am finally making a go of it.
Flynn laid another warm blanket over the two princesses. The younger one had already fallen back to sleep, snuggled against her sister.
“Where are we Flynn?” the older girl yawned and snuggled deeper under the blanket.
“Somewhere safe princess. Somewhere you will be found.” Flynn replied softly tucking the girls in one last time. That was as comfortable as he would be able to make the bench for them.
“But, where are Mama and Papa?”
“Hush Princess. You are both safe. They call this a school. Tomorrow, people will find you and, until then, I will watch from the trees. You are safe.” Flynn smiled at the girl and reached for the pouch on his belt.
“But Mama and…” Her soft voice trailed off as she settled into a deep sleep. The cobalt colored powder settled among her chestnut curls as Flynn sprinkled it over the girls. Tomorrow they would wake and they would be safe. He had watched these schools for weeks and knew that people here cared for children. Tomorrow, they would wake and remember nothing.
And tonight, he would watch.
This is wonderful, Megan! You’ve made every character intriguing in a short scene from one pov.
Oooo, instant mystery. Wishing you the best with your story.
A bit late as I’m down with the flu and I have to fight it off in the next 10 to 14 days because I have surgery at the end of this month. Such suckful timing lol. I always enjoy reading your wips. Thank you for sharing ? Here’s one of mine; it’s only part of the prologue…
~*~*~
Prologue
19 Years Ago…
What a crappy way to spend my birthday.
The day was lovely but freezing and I had the day planned to spend with my high school friend. She and I were going to go to the movies then have lunch, see another movie and then dinner out with maybe some dancing at a club included. But noooo! I had to receive a phone call from BHA telling me there’s a rogue attack at Regents Park not far from where I was.
So, instead of watching a good comedy, I’m now sweating like a horse while I’m chasing the cretin through the streets south of Browns Plains. Goodness knows what happened to the hunter who was supposed to be patrolling the area. Maybe if the chase ended soon and well maybe the evening wouldn’t be wasted. Yeah right!
Ugh! If the therian – therian is short for therianthropy which is the generic name for all were-creatures – keeps this up we’re going to end up in Greenbank shortly. I’m currently chasing him down Hunter Road. The chase began on the corner of Coronation and Middle Roads – a busy intersection of course – then he turned down Middle Road till, turning right, we’re both pelting down Hunter.
Where does Hunter lead? I wracked my brain as I tried to remember. It was a few moments before I did and I almost stumbled with realisation and put on a burst of speed instead; ignoring the pain in my side. Hunter Road joins onto Moody Road which runs along side the Greenbank Military Camp with a train line between the two. If he goes in there I could easily lose him and get myself shot for trespassing. That would not be a great ending to the day.
At least he’ll survive if he gets shot. I didn’t bother wasting my breath, or what little brain power I had left, on cursing as I watched him jump the fence into military grounds where both the train line and the military grounds are at their closest to Moody Road. I had no choice but to follow him. I am so going to kill the bugger for ruining my day every which way possible; not just for the robbery he committed. Thank goodness I was carrying all my licenses with me. Let’s hope I don’t get shot before showing them.
In less than two minutes after jumping the fence I caught up with him. It was like he thought he was safe from me so he’d slowed down after entering the bush. Greenbank Military Camp is a large natural reserve where the military does training which includes live ammunition. And, like all military places, they’re allowed to shoot on sight no questions asked. I’m so in trouble.
Suddenly, he turned and launched himself at me. He’s shorter and skinnier than me and he started swinging punches at me. I sighed and started recalling my boxing lessons from that phase I was in almost a decade ago. He and I traded blows. We blocked most of the time but he did manage to split my lip and break a tooth. Well, there goes my night out. I am so going to charge BHA for the expense since it was officially my day off.
Then I landed a good solid punch to the middle of his face. I heard a satisfying crunching sound with the impact and he staggered backwards and fell to the ground with a yell of pain and blood flowing. As soon as he landed hard he started to change as bunch of negative emotions tore through him.
I didn’t bother wasting any time. I pulled out my non-compact version of the 9mm SigSauer P250 and shot him twice in the heart. I slowly moved towards him just in case the hollow points filled with silver nitrate hadn’t finished him off. I nudged him with my booted foot and he didn’t move.
Suddenly, I heard a bunch of rifles click and guessed they were aimed at me. I went very still.
“Alright lady, drop your weapon and don’t move.” An amazing voice ordered.
I complied and turned only my head to look towards the voice. I just had to see if the face suited it. Oh for heaven’s sake! I couldn’t believe I was risking my life over a sexy voice. I mentally sighed as that was exactly what I was doing.
A half Aboriginal and, maybe, half Caucasian man as tall as me dressed in standard greens was in the centre of a semi-circle of ten soldiers around me. His skin was a light chocolate brown and he had close cropped black hair. Set in his slightly oval face was the most amazing golden brown eyes I had ever seen. With his lips pressed into a thin line of no-nonsense those brown eyes appeared rather cold and calculating at that moment.
I bet they could be warm and melting too. I mentally groaned at my silly thoughts. Unfortunately his uniform wasn’t a tight fit so I couldn’t see what his physique was like. Not only that but he had his shirt untucked so not even an indication regarding his waist. Actually, with a quick glance at the rest of his group, they all had their shirts untucked. Either they were all untidy or they’re allowed to wear them like that.
Come to think of it, I think I’ve seen soldiers around the shopping centres on special military remembrance days with their shirts untucked. Not untidy then. I mentally berated myself for my mental babblings when I could easily die right then. One point I hadn’t missed was how I hadn’t heard any of them come up behind me until they’d aimed their rifles at me.
“Uh, hi. I’m a bounty hunter. I have my licenses if you want to check.” Even though I was winded from the fight, my voice came out breathy due to being attracted to him which I thought was more obvious. It also slurred because of my broken tooth and fat lip. Such a great first impression I was making. Maybe he should just shoot me to put me out of my misery and embarrassment.
“Remove them slowly and hand them to me.” He instructed me as he turned sideways and held his hand out. Not that turning side on would help him much in such close quarters. Good thing I’m not about to shoot him. No, never that. Instead, I did as I was told and handed him a small blue credit card folder which holds all of my licenses.
“You’re only nineteen?!” He asked me incredulously after doing a double take at my driver’s license.
I heard a murmur from the guys around me. I didn’t dare look at any of them again since the one before me seemed to be in charge and I was trespassing after all. My life was literally in his hands. I wondered if he’d take all of me in his hands?
Then he looked at the card again. “Happy birthday by the way.” And a small smile played at his lips.
I think I was blushing but I was still overheated from the running and the fight that I couldn’t tell. “Uh, thanks.”
“Hey, how did you manage to get your hair so white?” A full Aboriginal asked me.
I glanced at him in surprise over such a question. “Um, it’s natural.” I muttered a little self-consciously.
I caught a few of the surprised expressions as I turned back to the leader. “Listen, I need to call in a clean-up crew. I would like permission for them to enter the grounds to take him away.”
“We can take care of it if you like.” He offered as he checked out the rest of my licenses. It made me think better of him for the thorough checking.
“Hell no. They ruined my birthday by calling me in on my day off so they can get their backsides out here, go through your security and do their job. Thanks for the offer though.” I would have grinned but my mouth hurt too much so I grimaced instead.
There were a few chuckles from the guys around me. I guess they appreciated my line of thinking. Maybe I wouldn’t get shot today after all. Things were starting to look up.
“Sure not a problem. Get them to go to the front gate to check in and I’ll let the front gate know exactly where to send them.” He handed me back my credit card folder.
Once the folder was tucked away I retrieved my mobile phone and sent a text for a clean-up crew with the relevant details and instructions. After I sent it off I then requested a taxi. Damned if I’m going to walk all that distance back to my car. I was just too stuffed to even think about it. While I was doing that, he was speaking into his phone letting security know what had happened and was about to happen.
As I put my mobile away I wiped away some of the trickling blood from my mouth and winced in pain slightly. This had definitely become the birthday from hell. The only bright moment was the leader of this group of soldiers before me. Nice eye candy. Admittedly all of them were but especially the leader.
“Would you like our medic to look at that for you?” He indicated at my mouth with a frown.
“Thanks but nah. I’ll go to one of BHA’s doctors and bill them for this.” I would have smiled but it hurt too much.
My response earned me a few more chuckles.
“In that case we’ll escort you to the front gate.” He smiled at me as he looked me up and down and it’s a very nice smile. A smile which had my hormones racing with delight; along with the perusal he gave me.
“Well, gee whiz. You’re making all these nice offers and I have to say no yet again. BHA regs say I have to stay until clean-up crew arrive. But once they do then you can escort me to the gate.” I stated with slight exasperation and my hands on my hips.
He grinned big time at me. Seemed something I said pleased him. “Deal. So, how long have you been a bounty hunter?”
“If I take my training into account two years.” I spoke slowly so the slurring from my injury wasn’t too noticeable.
“How long does the training take?” asked a blonde Caucasian man shorter than the one I liked.
These men train longer and harder than bounty hunters do but then their playground is more involved than the one I’ve chosen to play in. Their training covers more dangerous weapons and more involved technologies than what we hunters are allowed to use. I knew what I was about to say wouldn’t impress them. Not that I was trying to. Honest.
“Standard training takes six weeks. If one adds any of the advanced classes then it’s another one to four weeks on top of that. I wanted the best chance I could get so I did the full ten weeks. I also take refresher courses when technology and information are up-dated.” I’m not normally a shy person, nor do I embarrass easily but I did feel a little embarrassed this time. I didn’t understand why and wasn’t given a chance to work out why.
“What? Only six to ten weeks of training?” a third man asked scornfully.
I just grinned at him. “Don’t forget, we hunters don’t get to play with a lot of the bigger and more sophisticated weapons and technologies you guys do. As a result our training takes less time. If we want to learn how to use new toys like… explosives or more specific – but allowable – weapons and electronics, for example, then we have to take separate courses altogether. In regards to law enforcement, hunters are closer to the police than the military.”
“Well, since you put it that way.” He laughed.
The other men joined him.
We then talked about weapons of all kinds – some I could use and some I couldn’t but appropriately drooled and that seemed to please them – until the clean-up crew arrived. Once they did, the soldiers showed me to the front gate and to where my taxi was waiting. I gave him one last look then got in the taxi and left after I gave the driver my destination.
Damn it! I didn’t think to get his name. Ah shoot. That’s just so not fair. I laid my head back in frustration and stared up at the roof as the taxi headed back to Regents Park.
Sorry I’m late but been fighting pneumonia.
This is in the middle, wasn’t sure what to post, so here it goes.
Desperately trying to reign in his rage that was currently short-circuiting his thoughts and reactions. He raked his fingers through his long black hair debating, to leave or hit the fool. Why was he hesitating? What was keeping him seated here like some good little boy? He needed a moment to close his eyes and breathe. Steady!
Sensing Lucien moving closer to him, almost engulfing him, Gabriel eyelids fluttered open as he focused his glare at Lucien. The guy’s presence was like a physical assault on his senses. Battering his mind and body like rough ocean waters, his own skin felt tight, uncomfortable. He needed an out.
“Go ahead, show me how you are going to respond to me, invading your personal space?” Lucien teased with a growly tone. Moving closer, taunting, relishing in the another’s man’s anger and confusion.
Glaring back at him with storming indecision, Lucien was mesmerized by those heavy lashed light hazel eyes, dark forest green draping over pastel shades of brown, oak and bronzed covered leaves, swirling in seductive hues of autumn colors. Reminding him of walking in newly soften mud, watching the riot of colors of the woodland change from vivid green, to muted yellow, and walnut brown. Signaling winters embrace. Home.
Tapping his glass, Gabriel turned his massive frame to face Lucien. Body to body. He didn’t have time for word games and impatiently asked, “What the fuck do you want?”
“You,” Lucien stated, with an assurance that shook Gabriel to the core.
Head spinning, at the unexpected reply. Dam! Maybe Gabriel had drunk too much already, that’s why he wasn’t hearing straight anymore. Spinning, spinning he could feel his world drifting away from him. Lucien was telling, no he was demanding something from Gabriel, that he could and would not give.
Wobbling in his seat, he rolled his shoulders back and narrowed his vision, “Look bud, I don’t swing your creepy way. I will pay you for the drink, fair an all, and then you can fuck off.”
Gabriel’s lips, were curved like an archers bow, firm, rough. Lucien liked their pomegranate color, moist and dewy. He smiled and took a slow casual sip of his own drink. No hurry. He planned on tearing Gabriel’s walls down to sand by the end of this night. With an arched brow, Lucien drew himself up and cocked his head sideways.
He regarded Gabriel’s strong dimpled chin, outlining a chiseled square masculine face. His eyes raked over a powerful muscular body and broad shoulders. The man’s wide lats flared wide and drew focus down to a narrow waist, emphasizing rock like thighs and a high tight bubble ass. His pecs were full and well defined as they stretched the black tee he was wearing to its cotton limit.
Demanding Lucien’s appreciation, Gabriel’s wide back muscles rippled with undemonstrative power, highlighting robust traps, that defined thick granite like arms. Lucien imagined sinking his teeth into that ass, marking it. Possessing it. Claiming every delicious curvature of roped and striated muscles. He detected no wasted flesh on him. The man was built like a God. He leaned over, closing in on his prey.
Smelling the slight edge of vanilla and honey as Lucien’s lips ghosted over his. Gabriel jerked away from the feathery kiss, his gaze flew from Lucien’s parted mouth to his glinting eyes. Sweet honeyed lips. So close, too close as he breathed in Lucien’s intoxicating odor, a swirling mix of earth and musk on the man’s golden skin. Golden skin? When had he began to notice Lucien’s golden skin? What was wrong with him? Golden skin or whatever, Gabriel wasn’t going to back down, he didn’t care if Lucien viewed him as threat or not, he was not going too pussy out.
Brain frazzled and scattered, Gabriel felt boxed in about this situation. He wanted to concave Lucien’s wolfish face. Do something…he kept screaming to himself. Gabriel couldn’t understand why Lucien kept invading his personal space and most puzzling of all, why was Gabriel allowing this to happen? Why did this man make Gabriel feel so unsure about himself?
“Look jerk off, if you don’t back off I will hurt you, do you understand me?” Gabriel growled as he rose to move off his chair. Getting ready to dispense some pain, but instead he was the one gasping, as he fell back to his stool. Lucien had placed an iron grip on his left thigh, squeezing, tightening, subduing him easily. Suddenly he couldn’t move from his seat and he was sure that there would be some nasty bruises on his left thigh.
“Shhh…Gabriel…You’re not going to hurt me. I won’t let you.” Lucien whispered.