Prompt: “Every child has a monster that lives under their bed. Society’s coming-of-age ceremony is to kill that monster. The time has come for you to be an adult.”
Toolbox: Allegory
Fan Fiction: Ezra from The Year of the Witching
I wrung my hands, spreading sweat and fear across my palms. Fifteen was old for the ceremony, but I’d put it off for so long. My excuses were growing thin, but I did not want to do this.
It had nothing to do with becoming an adult. That was long overdue. Yeah, I get the irony.
But the ceremony was to kill the monster under my bed. I couldn’t do it.
I knew my monster─Ezra─and I liked him. A lot.
Tomorrow, I had to venture under my bed or lure him out and slaughter him. Murder him.
Tonight, though, I could still find a way to save his life.
Strapping the sword on my back and packed on my supplies before I pulled up the bed skirt and slid under the frame into the darkness.
Musty, wet rock hit me immediately, but slowly, a warm, sweet scent bloomed in the space as I stepped forward. I cracked the pink glow stick, the color Ezra preferred, and I waited. Although I’d been down here more times than I could count, I never ventured too deeply into the darkness alone.
Warm wind brushed my skin, and Ezra’s brilliant blue eyes appeared in the soft pink haze.
I smiled up at him.
“You’ve returned.” He took the pink glow stick and my hand and led me through the dark.
I followed because I trusted him. And he led because he trusted me.
The soft quiet of home disintegrated into an absence of sound that made my skin crawl. My grip squeezed him, and Ezra squeezed back.
You’re okay. This is my place, and you’re with me.
It was the magic that kept others from finding him. Others like me who hunted and killed him and his kind because of what they were and where they lived.
We slowly made it to his home, which was homemade furniture and soft places to sit or lie down. Ezra collected books, but I couldn’t see much else. His soft lamps provided a circle of light, and the rest bled to black.
He offered me the chair by the table with a smile. “I’ve got your favorite.”
I sat, grinning in a knowing way.
Pulling a bowl from the dark, Ezra presented the gleaming treat to me. “An ice cream sundae with walnuts and marshmallow sauce.”
It was my favorite when I was six. “How did you get that?”
He shrugged and set it on the table before me. A spoon appeared for me, and I dug in.
Mom didn’t make me many of these treats anymore.
Ezra sat beside me. His attention tightened the fear in my chest.
My spoon faltered, and I looked him in the eyes. “They want me to kill you tomorrow.”
“I know.” He urged me to finish eating.
With a huff, I took another bite. It wasn’t the first time I’d told him. Wasn’t the first time he’d brushed me off about it. “Why won’t you let me save you?”
“You’re not supposed to.” His even tones belied the sadness in his blue eyes.
“Why does that matter?” I threw the spoon, but he caught it. Anger billowed out of me. “Why must I do everything I’m supposed to? Everything I’m told? Everything everyone else has ever done and decided that everyone must do? Why can’t I make my own decisions?”
“Because you are not an adult yet.” Ezra placed the spoon by my bowl again.
“And that means what I want doesn’t matter?” I stood abruptly, unable to soothe the injustice of it. To reconcile myself with Ezra’s acceptance of it. “That means your life doesn’t matter?”
He took my hands, his warmth smothering the fire threatening to burn me alive. “Becoming an adult means doing things that you do not wish to because you need to. It is an obstacle you must conquer, or you will forever be a child.”
“But why does it have to be this?” Why couldn’t it be something else?
“Because you don’t want it to be.”
Internal thunderstorms threatened me with tears.
“Everyone knows their monster before they must slay us. In some way. None wants to complete the ceremony. Out of fear. Out of pride. Out of rebellion.” A tug made me acknowledge the pointed look he gave me.
“I am afraid. I don’t want me to be the reason you’re gone.”
With a sad smile, he sat me down. The ice cream hadn’t melted. It never melted down here. Why was that?
“I won’t be gone,” he whispered in my hair before he planted a kiss atop my head.
“Slay means kill. Dead. No longer living. How can you not be gone after that?”
Ezra patted my hand.
“How old are you?” Something beyond the fear of his death knocked my heart around.
“Old.”
“And how many times have you been slain?” My hand squeezed around the spoon.
“Many times.”
A renegade tear plopped down my cheek.
Ezra wiped it away. “Few get to see me as you do.”
I sniffed back the rest of my grief. “But I won’t get to see you anymore, will I?”
“No.” He sat again beside me to watch me eat my sundae. “But at least you can know that I’m not gone. Not really.”
My spoon found the half-eaten mound of ice cream, and I did my best to eat it slowly. To savor every bite and every moment in between. This was the last of my childhood.
#SoCS Prompt: “movie title.” Take the title of the last movie you watched (just the title, not the premise of the movie), and base your post on that title.
“The Hunger Games”
I’m cheating this week, but this reminded me of vampire politics, and well, I have the perfect excerpt for that, so here it is—Chapter Thirty-Five:
“Secrets. As exciting as yours are, I grow tired of how much effort it takes to unearth them and how loyal my people are to keeping yours from me.”
I blinked at Phea, too tired to generate the energy needed to sass her. Probably for the better.
My dry throat cracked my first words. I cleared away the rocks. “What did you learn this time?”
“Your question implies that you have more than one sizeable secret.”
“Depends on what you mean by sizeable.” Okay, maybe I maintained a little bit of sass.
Phea’s jaw worked, dark eyes narrowing like the barrel of a gun. “I suggest care and tact, renegade. Or what I decide to do with you and your baby will be affected by your attitude.”
Gaze unfocused, white blurred in an attempt to consume her dark shape. I’d been waiting for this. I knew Christopher would tell them. He needed to. I didn’t have the strength to offer it up myself.
“We tested your blood to confirm. I’m surprised by you. That you would put your child in such extreme peril to keep him to yourself. How long has it been since you’ve fed?”
Although they’d been keeping me in a room deprived of the sun or sky, Christopher had come to see me at least ten times already.
“Well, we cannot have that, so you will be receiving rations again. Of blood and food because I’m promised we can understand how this happened far better with a healthy baby than without him.” Her chilly hand found my forehead, smoothing away my bangs. “You must know, however, that this means new and improved forms of punishment. Feel free to save yourself the harshest of them by telling me everything right now.”
I wanted to tell her that she’d never get her hands on my baby.
I wanted it to be true.
But I could handle anything that didn’t harm him. Besides, I doubt she’d keep that promise if she knew one of them meant I’d killed her demented little knight. I’d held onto everything else for as long as possible. The extra powers were piddly to this.
Her hand waved beside the bed, not to me, and shuffling and scraping entered the room.
Feet slid around, and the acute scent of a human filled the space.
A middle-aged, black woman struggled to stand under Vincent’s grip. Sweat poured over her forehead and gathered under her cheeks.
“Your meal.” Phea presented her with a small flourish.
Vincent dumped the woman against the wall, bowed to Phea, and left.
The queen took the chair Christopher normally sat in, crossed a leg over the other and waited for me to feed—a stubborn mother watching over her insolent child.
“Who is she?”
“Does it matter?”
Of course it does. I’d said the same to James when he brought me my first meal. And it hadn’t mattered then. I was too hungry, too new to regulating myself that I drained him dry in seconds.
The woman smelled of cocoa butter, and she was half aware like this might all be some silly nightmare. How easily I could have lured her to me, but I went to her. Cold prickled into my toes.
She balanced against the wall on her own, and she nearly fell over when I touched her shoulder.
Calm. I pushed the idea into her. Her wobbling ceased, hands splayed against the white paint behind her.
This won’t hurt. Fingers braced against her neck, I tilted her throat to my throbbing fangs.
Her blood tasted of sweet cream, spreading through my cells the moment it touched my tongue. My body didn’t rage over it like when the Assetato kept me captive, but my throat and stomach rejoiced as I took my first swallow.
The dull, dead hum in the back of my brain faded, and my wits returned.
Nowhere near sated, I released the woman and let her slide to the concrete floor with a gentle euphoria. I’d heard my bite drugged my prey—worse than a normal vampire’s because of my imprint and tendency to glamour others with it.
“Saving the rest for later? I’ve given my word that you will receive regular feedings, you can finish your meal without fear that I will withhold more from you.” Phea gestured toward the woman, offering a freedom that she knew I didn’t want.
I crawled into bed and curled myself back where I’d started.
“I am far too aware of your high-road morality, as skewed and misguided as it is, but you cannot have another until you’ve finished your first. I suggest you not prolong it.” Phea stood, straightening her business skirt with a sly shimmy and left me to my newest torture.
Once the door closed, the woman on the floor slept with small, soft snores. I took the chance to get some genuine sleep, too, before none was offered to me.
I love getting together with other authors to offer our readers something big. Welp, this time, it’s a Kindle. Yup. Go get your hands on it.
Plus, so many of these books look like good reads.
Here’s an excerpt from mine, currently half price:
Chapter Nine
Kaia sat on the side of a bed as a small, dark-featured female sat in a chair across from her, her knees held together, reminding Kaia of Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Her round eyes condescending yet patient as she looked Kaia over. She took her time, carefully picking every bit of Kaia apart in silence. Fidgeting against her cuffs, adrenaline fought the post-anxiety-attack exhaustion.
The room glowed a gentle yellow, and the springs of the cheap bed creaked under her minute shifting. Finally, their gazes met.
“Two years ago, I watched my mate get his head torn off by a bear. His teeth…” Suppressed rage hastened her breath, “sliced right into his throat…and snapped his body in two. I didn’t believe it possible until that beast spat my lover’s head out and it rolled towards me.”
Unfettered lust for revenge brightened her eyes, making them grow impossibly wider.
Kaia couldn’t create the image this woman painted. “I’m sorry. Who are you? If you want my family’s money, they’ll give it, but we’re not excessively rich.”
“I do not want your silly money. The male who killed my lover is what I want.” Rigid, gloved fingers squeezed together in her lap, shaking as if she held a snarling beast on a chain. She took a breath and layered on composure. “And you may call me Scarlet.”
Quite fitting. But not her real name. Dev called Kaia, Little Red, from the moment they’d met, charming her with his flirtatious humor—the same humor the man captured with her had. They both seemed like such good men, in their presence and actions. Kaia had been wrong enough about the bear, and certainly, she needed no more proof that she was wrong about Sev.
“I can’t give you what you want.” Just the same, Dev didn’t deserve to die because he couldn’t love her enough. Not that she had much information for them, other than broken bits she kept sweeping away, left over from their relationship.
“You can and will by the time we’re through with you. Hopefully, before I lose my patience. I’d hate to mar that perfect skin of yours.” Scarlet straightened her gloves, up around her elbows like the thought of dirtying them with violence set her further on edge. “Why don’t I tell you the whole story? It might give you a smidgen of perspective.
“Two-and-a-half years ago, the bear made contact with Travelers, a mix of Irish and Asian decent, roaming the European and Asian landmass since long before they were called such, as they made their first pass through the Midwest. They’d formed a traveling circus when bartering fell out of favor. The bear weaseled his way into the group, coercing younger members to reform, like those Jehovah’s Witnesses.
“Half of the Travelers pledged to work with humans, to mean them no harm, to hide themselves in passivity. Unrest nestled its way into the pack, splitting families apart and breaking traditions.”
Scarlet pressed her hands into her knees, thumbing away invisible dirt. An ache started in Kaia’s shoulders, making her stretch in the break. This woman had real issues with change it seemed, something raised in Kaia that she had embraced whole-heartedly.
“When trust breaks down, peace becomes a scarce commodity and violence takes its place. Six months after that bear befriended the Travelers, the first death to their people occurred. A young feline murdered his father. Both sides were at each other’s throats, screaming and reaching for blood.
“Daniel, my lover, was called to come placate both sides, but we were not the only ones summoned. And neither side could compromise, especially not with that bear preaching about ethical treatment and ultimate elimination. He killed so many of us. And so many children died.” Scarlet shook her head, bringing her gloved finger to catch a tear before it smeared her mascara. Blinking it away, she took a breath and settled her gaze to her lap. After a few silent moments, she worked at peeling her right glove down her arm, pulling it from her fingertips to reveal dipped and discolored flesh, red and raw looking, mangled like a horse’s leg after a cougar attack. Although her arm healed, it didn’t match the rest of her dark, creamy skin. “When he was done with my Daniel, he tried to take my arm, too. Your bear did this to me.”
The glove wrinkled in her hand, and she slammed her fist into her thigh, her voice soft and scary, whispering a curse. Her outburst subdued, and Scarlet slid the glove back in place. “So, tell me, Little Red, when is the last time you talked to your sweet Devere?”
“I haven’t talked to him since he broke my heart. Why would I want to?” Did they expect her to merely give up the man she loved? This woman needed to do more than tell her a story skewed by the hatred of equality and cooperation with humans. Dev didn’t tell her a lot about what he was and what he did, but Kaia learned enough by observation. And this Scarlet, as the bear would put it, wouldn’t be alive if he wanted her dead. He had a strict no women or children rule unless he had no other choice.
“Andre.” Scarlet rose a hand, signaling Ponytail forward to grab Kaia by the arm and pull her off the small bed to a corner of the room where a tub sat, filled with water.
Andre grabbed the mass of her hair and forced her to her knees in front of it. “We don’t take kindly to lies, Little Red.”
Fear grabbed Kaia’s heart as he forced her face into the water, making her struggle to hold her breath, her body jerking against the side of the tub, unable to lift herself. Burning lungs threatened to pull in the water as she came free to breathe. Andre dropped his sour face beside hers. She ate the air.
“You called him after I chased you. Predictable.” He gave her a deviant grin before pushing her face back into the cold water.
I have been on journey with my new novel, drafting it faster than I’ve ever completed one before—five months from start to finish. A totally mind-blowing feat for me.
Add to this, the culmination of rebranding over the last few years has sent me to a cover artist to create new covers for the series. We started with book four, this book—BLOOD PHOENIX: INFERNO—and I am so SO happy to share it.
Big thanks to Christian from Covers by Christian. Not only was he patient with my pickiness, he churned out a cover that fits the book so well.
The angst.
The magick.
The wear from breaking my main character, Ria.
Okay, let me reign myself in. If I get myself too excited, I’m going to reveal too much, but I do want backdrop the cover a little bit with one small detail.
Those marks on her back are the catalyst to her next stage in the paranormal evolution, shoving her into a transformation that will take hold before the end of book five (the final chapter of Ria’s story).
All right, no more belaboring the point of this post. Here’s the book’s official blurb and the cover!
Drawing the Scarlet Queen to central New York’s training grounds, Ria’s remarkable blood triggers negotiations between two kingdoms.
Ria questions her own humanity when she finds herself aligned with Phea, the vampire queen—a woman who’s tortured her and her friends for months.
As all of her secrets unravel around her, Ria is forced to conform or sacrifice the people she loves.
If she doesn’t find a way to break their alliance, the balance of the universe will plunge deeper into chaos, and no one will be safe.
With a sprinkling of Twilight, a bite of Anita Blake, and a smattering of satirical Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you won’t want to miss this dark and witty vampire series.
Now, I can’t help myself! Here’s the first two chapters of the new installment, coming this November. And I’ll be linking the official book trailer below.
Chapter One
Gene burst into my room and jarred me upright in my bed. Nausea burrowed into my gut, finding its old nesting hole to roll around in. Oh god. I was going to be sick again.
“Get dressed. We’re expected in the clearing.” He pulled the sheets back to hurry me along.
“What’s going on?”
The shift to get out of bed set off warning bells, and my head sank between my knees.
“Another renegade.”
My esophagus shrank.
I bolted to the bathroom, kicking the door closed as I bent over the toilet and puked. This has been my routine for the last few weeks. Gene was unhappy to admit that it might contribute to my lack of faerie blood, but he gladly filled in the gaps in my needs as he could.
“We do not have time—”
I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. “Pull out something for me to wear. I won’t be long.”
Another wave trampled me.
My stomach churned out more bile.
I rinsed and waited.
Twice was my pattern, but some days…so I lingered.
Five deep breaths, and I opened the door to a dress.
“Come on. Are you kidding me?”
“We do not have time.”
Ugh. I snatched it and threw it over my head, snagging the heels that would sink into the grass in the clearing. Gene both ushered and supported me as I slipped into the shoes on our way out of the apartment door.
“I didn’t know James was looking for anyone.” Fidgeting with the dress top, the line didn’t match the sports bra I wore beneath it.
“He’s not the only one with the job.”
We stood around the semi-circle as Phea strode across the lawn, waiting in her usual spot across from the pathway onto the grounds, dressed like the true queen she was. Powerful. Elegant. Elevated.
She took up the entire clearing with her presence.
Not that long ago, I tramped through that foliage to face the queen of the vampires and ended the evening with a stake beside my heart, dying, and claimed by a man I didn’t know—the one I’d grown reliant on, connected to, comfortable with. I suppressed the urge to reach for his hand now.
The brush rustled, and Vincent stepped through—all doom and danger—then Julia appeared.
That couldn’t be.
Julia was dead.
Dead-dead.
Set-herself-on-fire dead.
The blonde hair shimmered, and Julia vanished. In her place stood the small blonde woman I’d seen in Vincent’s memories. A patch of hair buzzed around her ear, a gold piece holding her hair in place to expose it, and her rainbow eyes glowed with the kind of power that seemed regal.
Not what I expected out of a renegade.
Nor was the corset covering her abundant dress.
Phea’s surprise shifted her unnaturally, like when a cat tilted its head on its side but not nearly as dramatic. Scarlet stood from her dais on the porch behind our queen—a queen of her own. Bloody, they said. The Scarlet Queen.
“May I present Nani, Maka Nani, noble faerie of the underwater mound.” Vincent presented her in the same way James, my maker, presented me to Phea. An offering.
And that’s exactly what she was.
“Oh, Commander, how naughty you’ve been.”
His bow held an intimacy that came from a reformed renegade. One that made her third in command so loyal to her. Nani, the new vampire, fell into a graceful and practiced curtsy without buckling under fear.
Certainly not a normal renegade.
Scarlet’s obvious interest countered her usual demeanor, wicked and cold—colder than Phea, and it seemed to spark a challenge between the two, given the recent trend of sacrifices they paraded through the grounds.
“She is my claim, Your Majesty.”
“General.” Phea’s demand hung in the air, and James dragged a bent over T that once chained him in place to punish him for my vampirism. Now, he thrust the sharpened end into the ground as Vincent stepped forward to take it. “We have a punishment to dole out, and if your fae wants to be tested as yours, she will have to watch and wait through it before she undergoes her own trials.”
“She’s strong enough.”
Nani shifted behind him, but Vincent kept his gaze on our queen as he efficiently disrobed and braced himself within the metal cuffs at the ends of the T-top.
It was more than I wanted to see of him, looking over James instead in his suit and newly shortened hair. He stood as her soldier with a large, wooden box in hand.
Phea flicked her wrist, and the shackles snapped around Vincent’s.
James presented her whip.
She touched the scar on his chin before taking the weapon and slashing it across the grass, a snake promising to strike.
Feet jarred from under him, Vincent took the weight in his shoulders, but instead of the devoted bliss he often aimed at our queen, he seemed to find solace in his new claim.
Nani’s hands clenched the puffy fabric of her skirt, but she maintained her decorum. Like a princess.
Man, I really didn’t want to witness this again. I barely endured it when she’d done this to James. Well, if you could call it that. Felix taunted me right in the middle of this group while she split James’s skin open. Vincent held me as Felix and Gene fought. I hadn’t seen so much of the act.
Felix, our queen’s pet, was gone now, too.
Did Phea think he was out on a renegade hunt? That the new vampires I’d killed and sent off with the Assetatomerely ran off or got themselves killed? She had to suspect me.
I’d stabbed him in the heart after all. Like they’d forced me to do to Harris.
Too many deaths under my belt in too few weeks.
Witchet-crack.
The whip struck flesh, breaking the sound barrier and bringing me back from the neurotic melancholy I’d grown too used to sulking in.
The musky scent of his blood tapped my heartbeat in my fangs and curdled my insides.
Each strike uncovered the madness in Phea’s eyes—one I didn’t see when she’d done this to James—then, I hadn’t exactly been watching her.
Her whip slid around her, leaving traces of blood across her dark clothes.
And they referred to Scarlet the bloody queen?
I traced the lines of Gene’s jacket with my gaze, the way his hands folded together in front of him, the clean press along the creases, the swoop of his dark hair styled in almond oil. The scent calmed me from here. My attention must have burned his skin because his shoulders rolled, and he tipped his face my way to spare a glance.
I forced a smile to say I was okay. Just trying to not really pay attention over here.
Witchet-crack.
I flinched, working on my breath. It didn’t help, funneling more of Vincent’s musky blood into my sinuses. I could practically taste him.
James shifted on the other side of the circle, far enough to keep clear of the gore. With his expensive taste, I understood why.
The new persona he’d taken on after he changed me and brought me here didn’t fit him like his suit did. Standing at ease, clasped arms behind him exaggerated his shoulders’ width.
He met my gaze between the full-fledged vampires I stood behind. The planes of his face were blank, but amusement twinkled in the blackness of his eyes; beyond the gruesome display he found humor in my rushed attire. At least, that’s what the trajectory of his examination suggested.
I tugged at the clingy fabric, the static twisting it between my thighs.
Did a corner of his mouth quirk?
Witchet-crack.
I jerked and shifted again, aware of someone else watching me.
Torture consumed Phea, Nani, and most of those gathered, but not Scarlet. No, I seemed to fascinate her. As much as the thought wormed its way down my spine and made me squirm, it had been this way since Tahe and I returned from the attack at the mall. For a while, I assumed she sensed Boden on me in some way, but I didn’t know if fae possessed that kind of discernment.
Wishful thinking kept me from examining this too closely.
Maybe she got wind of my more-than-inflated reputation.
It’s not like I held a candle to either queen.
But those too-round eyes, that demeanor, those gloved hands…all unsettled me.
Might be the stories and gossip Tahe whispered in my ear when we went into town to feed.
Scarlet smiled at me, manipulative and sweet.
Had this been a few weeks ago, I might have reached for Gene’s hand to stabilize my emotions and my abilities, but my mentor has put in the work with me, gotten me to put in the work, too, and I had control. At least in times like this.
Put me against her directly, however, and I’d likely be singing a different story.
Scarlet paced on the dais behind the performance, giving her an excellent view of the gory bits—something she enjoyed—but her head tilted, remaining privy to my every move.
Witchet-crack.
Shaking my head, I tuned her out and rubbed the scar on my chest. It didn’t dull the burning reminder of how the wood felt as it slammed between my ribs.
Witchet-crack.
Damned glad this wasn’t my problem.
Chapter Two
Gene escorted me to his apartment in the Victorian house. I sank into his comfy, leather couch, holding my middle and urging my body to settle while he swept the living room, partial kitchen, and bedroom before settling in front of me.
“Coffee or blood?”
“What?” Queasiness curdled deeper.
“For your stomach, which would you prefer, coffee or blood?”
My choices warred with each other, simultaneously appetizing and revolting. I couldn’t decide, so I leaned into his shoulder instead.
Warmth engulfed my sides and back as his hand generated circles.
One of our cycles. Me queasy or puking. Him unsure what to do for me. We’d already discussed the possibilities of needing fae blood, and as sick as I was of being ill, I didn’t want to bring up that discussion again. There was no point to it.
The vanilla, honey, and almond scent of him took the edge off, so we spent a lot of time in close proximity, especially in the mornings when it was worst.
That meant a lot of sleepovers and cuddling.
Intimacy bloomed between us, and I struggled with it.
It sent us in another routine of warm, cold, hot, too hot, cold, and around again.
Demanding and pronounced taps struck his front door, pulling us apart.
Visitors made a habit of separating us. Unannounced and dangerous.
Gene paused to brush my bangs from my face and drop a kiss on my mouth before he helped me upright. Whoever showed up probably meant to gain something from me—an upper hand, information, fear. Being tired and aware of it didn’t keep it from happening.
I braced myself behind him, peeking from behind his shoulders.
He opened the door to Scarlet.
That prickling I used to get when Felix’s power crawled over my skin returned, but the threat was far more perilous.
A tug at her gloves and a brief touch to her pearls, Scarlet nodded to acknowledge us both. “Do I get the offer of coffee or blood? I almost always take blood, whether offered or not. Almost.”
The quirk of her mouth disturbed me.
Gene’s shoulders tightened under his suit jacket.
“I find it strange. You two have retired here five of seven nights this week.”
“I do not see how our nightly routine or where we retire is of interest to you or how it is any of your business.”
A shift in her stance read offense. “I heard you were one to follow rules and protocol, and here I am still standing in the hallway like some kind of beggar.”
Scarlet didn’t force her way in the way Felix or Vincent might. Instead, she smoothed down the fabric of her bodice and sighed. “You think just because I lost the ability to flay someone with my bare hands keeps me from enjoying the use of a blade? That I don’t have any other abilities? It was easy enough to gain power with it, but keeping influence and position brought new challenges. Different attention. More subtly. I have a new way of dealing with obstacles now.”
“How’s that?” Gene moved to block me once more.
“Why, I deal in secrets. And you’re teeming in them.” Her gaze found me anyways. “The both of you are.”
Gene and I exchanged a look, clearly dismissing me from the room. I didn’t want to leave him there alone with her, but I’d learned to trust him.
“I didn’t say she could leave.”
“You’re not our queen, and etiquette says you’ll deal with me as our hierarchy dictates.”
“It may be in your best interests not to send me after her when you’re not present, especially since she enjoys spending so much time with that pack of humans. Hierarchy would not serve her well then.”
I met her gaze fully. A challenge to her authority.
Even though I am not the highest amongst them, depending on who was present, they were powerless against her, and she’d force me to break protocol anyways.
My hand braced Gene’s elbow. He broke his protective barrier between us.
“So, what do you want from me? The more specific you can be, the better,” I said.
Her lips and brows quirked. “I see why you tend to conduct the meetings, but I am not surprised. Her attitude proceeds her. Generating a mythos of her own, spreading wide, and once it’s penetrated too far, you’ll not be able to contain or control it.”
I fought not to roll my eyes. Didn’t I say to be specific?
“And?”
“Ria.” Gene gave me a shot of magick to chide me.
I crossed my arms and waited.
Scarlet met my challenge with a practiced ease. “Your secrets, renegade. I want your secrets.”
A deep breath jangled her pearls, and she wiped her hands down her bodice once more.
My fingers tightened around my biceps. She’d have to wait in line.
“Not right this moment, mind you, my reputation doesn’t include my sense of patience, but I know when to utilize it if I must.” A few curious blinks, and she acknowledged us both individually before turning from the door. “Not forever, though.”
Adrenaline shook my hands and shoulders, so I gripped myself harder as Gene closed the door.
“You shouldn’t goad her. She might not be our queen, but she has enough power to slaughter scores of her own people and ours.”
“I know.”
“It’s like you have a death wish.”
“I don’t.”
“Why do you challenge her then?”
“Because she’s the epitome of authority, and you know how I am with that.”
Gene mimicked my stance, arms folding across his chest. “Quite intimately, but I do not find that to be an adequate answer.”
A tilt of my head shifted his weight in response. His tendency to lecture me came from a good place, so I sighed.
“How about because I’m sick of every other creature looking at me like an anomaly, like my secrets are the answer to whatever power struggle they’re entangled in, like I’m some prize to cash in on. I am a person. Not property—”
Gene cleared his throat, reminding me that I wasn’t quite right. He didn’t need to, but that didn’t mean I agreed with how this society pinned me as such.
“—to be used as some type of magickal talisman. I just want to be left alone.”
“I do not disagree with you, but you will have to give up the pipedream. Reality is ruthless, and the sooner you understand that, the safer I can keep you.”
Another dose of adrenaline sucker punched me right where I was sensitive. My arms unfolded, and I cradled myself for the jog to the bathroom.
I cursed life as an immortal the entire time. How could I be this sick as a vampire?
I missed how easily Boden’s touch tended to soothe this pain.
Gene came in after, a glass of water at the ready.
Thanking him, I swished and spat before I flushed.
“Coffee or blood?”
Exasperated, I couldn’t refrain from the eye roll. “Coffee.”
And the trailer! I’m so excited for this book, y’all.
I love, love, love, LOVE these characters. Devere and Kaia have been romping around in my head for more than a decade, and they have such a fun creation, stemmed from roleplaying in a Dark Hunters’ group on facebook.
And now, I’ve finally rendered the budding of their love story.
Their story spans further than this, the first, or the LOVING RED saga as a whole. You can’t see me, but I’m rubbing my hands together here, excited about how these guys are going to pop back up in the end of INFERNO and throughout RESSURECTION, the fifth and final book in the BLOOD PHOENIX saga.
I don’t want to belabor the point. These guys have chemistry.
So, here’s a look at the first chapter of LITTLE RED AND THE SURLY BEAR. Be sure to join me over the next twenty-four hours for some book-related giveaways with my launch party, starting at 2PM Central. Come chat and nab some free stuff!
But now, let’s get into story:
Home sweet home. The iron and wood of the bar were a welcome sight. Glass bottles stacked behind the bartenders, and Maddy rang the bell at the pick-up window connecting to the kitchen, her famous stew billowing steam from the ceramic bowl.
I hefted my duffle bag around my shoulder, squeezing through the filled tables and nodding at the staff—most of them weary bosex in need of asylum and a few new humans that seemed to shrink under the breadth of my chest and towering height. I acknowledged them, foregoing the smile.
My mission weighed too heavily on me to drum up the pretense, mask already cracking under the pressure of earning the Travelers’ trust. Even the females were leery of me, although less so than the men, who didn’t like my toeing their territory, especially the vampires. A misled assumption that I wanted one their women.
I shook it off, compartmentalizing, and swung into the kitchen to show Maddy my face before I disappeared upstairs. She’d mount my head on the wall if I snuck off without saying hello.
“You’re back.” Maddy’s smile lit up the stark kitchen, my nephew banging around the metal bowls to coat the fried chicken. “Have they been feeding you? Theo, make your uncle a bowl of stew to take with him.”
“I can feed myself just fine.” Although, I struggled to find the time away from the crew to find safer options as I wormed into their cliques. The taste of human flesh wasn’t my favorite, but I’d scavenged it a few times as a cub when I was desperate.
A few of the younger bosex gravitated my way as I ate grilled animals and human snacks. The older crew called me a hipster or herbivore or hippie, but the plan wasn’t to convert them all, just their young, and the boys saw in me a lot of what they wanted as a man. Mostly, I was good with the ladies, and their hormones controlled much of their thoughts, but that was why the Assetato sent me to infiltrate the group.
My nephew handed me a box with stew and enough bread to last me the evening, and I nodded him my approval.
“Don’t hide away all night. We have a surprise performance from some locals that you wouldn’t want to miss, and I could use you at the door.” Maddy pinned me with her expert mothering look, one she practiced on me throughout our childhood before she ever became a mother. It didn’t matter how many times I told her that she was a scant few minutes older than me; she claimed older sibling status and waved it in my face like a dude with a big dick.
I might have gone through a phase. Sue me.
“I’ll be back down by eight.”
“Good.” She shooed me away to my apartment above the bar.
It was small, but I didn’t need much, and I wanted to leave the townhouse apartments to the strays that came in need of shelter. They were big enough for full families, which swung through from time to time, but we’d only filled one room at the moment—Javier, who quickly became a cornerstone of our staff after he’d been chased out of his last pack for challenging the alpha and losing. It happened more often than most thought.
The stew settled the undercurrent of nerves left over from touring, and I fell into my old routine without much thought: shaving, showering, and cleaning up before strapping on jeans and a tight tee to flex my arms at the ladies. My smile was the secret weapon, and I worked it to pay the bills.
Javier uncapped a local brew and slid the bottle to me as I stepped behind the bar.
“Things been quiet the last few weeks?”
“Nothing more than a few drunks who didn’t want to pay their tabs. Your sister’s stew made for a few sloths. Pretty normal, I’d say.”
Dinner patrons shifted to late night drinks and pool hounds.
But the boys moved the tables around the stage where bands set up on weekends, and the scent of patchouli, orange, and baby powder mixed with the fog from our machine. I leaned against the frame by the front door, arms across my chest as I waited for whatever performance Maddy seemed excited about.
A few pretty little things showed me their IDs, wiggling their curves and batting lashes at me. I gave them a wink as they leaned against the long, sleek bar, giggling with each other and ogling the other shifters in the place. Maddy did a good job of maintaining a strong male presence for the vacationers and girls in bikinis, and as the lone female working, I was glad she stayed behind the order window, so I wouldn’t have to crack more skulls than necessary.
Smoke billowed out from the sides of the stage as the main room’s lights dimmed, narrowing into a spotlight. Drums beat low and steady, a tribal rhythm that had a few girls rocking with it.
Four women stepped onto the stage, swaying and shimmying with the beat. Their sparkling bangles swung over their bare mid-drifts and hips, arms raising above their heads to elongate their movements.
A fifth stepped out behind them as the rest moved off the stage to circle the floor.
Her scent warped the space, narrowing it as her pale skin glowed in the stage lights, a light shimmer to her skin barely noticeable with her hips moving in slow, controlled spirals. Her stomach rolled as her body moved in full undulations. The veil over half of her face made her green eyes brighter, like the moss-covered Scottish Highlands.
Fingers perfectly posed, this woman’s movements were more elegant, and she took up the entire stage, the four on the floor mimicking her—none of them poor dancers, but none of them outshone their companion.
As they bowed forward, she released her hair, and red swept down to her shoulders. Her body arced, her chest circled, and the jiggle of her legs bloomed the taste of her on the air. How I smelled her over everything else, orange and patchouli, almost stepped me from my post. Hands brought me to her hips as she gyrated, and I wanted them against me.
Stepping down with her fellow dancers, they swirled in unison, and her veil disappeared to reveal her red-painted mouth. Those mossy eyes performing their own dance through the crowd. When her gaze landed on me, a vacuum sucked the air from the room, and she spun my direction.
Releasing another veil from her hip, her steps whirled her toward me. Thin fabric circled my neck as her bangles pressed into my stomach, and she winked wickedly before fluttering back to her group.
The fun I could have with her evident in the way she smiled, in the vibrations of her limbs, in the control of her rapid movements.
Skirts twirled, jingling matching the drums as the last strains of music died.
The little redhead peered over her shoulder, and I rubbed her token between my fingers.
She vanished behind the curtains on the side of the stage, another song starting and a new group spinning out to perform.
I hit up Javier for another beer, his grin matching the rumbling deep inside me—one that I’d ignored in the field, that needed soothed. The brew did nothing to dim it or the scent of her on the fabric as I tucked it into my pocket, but it sprouted again as the real thing sauntered back into the room in jeans and a dark tee, the shimmer still glued to her skin.
Another patron waited for me at the entrance, her fingers lingering on my arm as I returned her ID.
The redhead saddled up to the bar, poised at the end a few feet from the door where her scent overpowered me. Decidedly human but intoxicating, I appreciated the way her back arched as she ordered a drink, and I flagged the bartender to put it on my tab.
She turned to admire me. Yeah, I know I’m full of it, but that’s the best way to describe the look in her eyes. “Thanks.”
I sent her a deadly wink and enjoyed the pink brushing her cheeks.
“You must be Maddy’s younger brother.”
I snorted. “Yeah, by two-and-a-half minutes.”
“Twins. Makes sense. She worries about you.”
I draped an arm over the back of the empty hostess stand. “Does she? I didn’t realize she talked about me so much.”
A slender shoulder shrug, bouncing her hair as she drew a swig from her own beer. “Maybe it’s just me. We’re nearing friendship territory. Girls night and all.”
“It’s likely just you, little red. My sister isn’t a frilly type.”
The quirk of her mouth sweetened her scent. “Neither am I.”
“Must be why she confides in you then.”
“Oh, you don’t think she talks about you every chance she gets?”
“Not unless she wants me locked in a cell.”
“Are you telling me you’re as dangerous as you look?” She swiveled on the stool, crossing her legs and swinging her beer between her fingers. Her lips puckered around the tip of the bottle, her thumb running along the moisture on the neck.
A fire rumbled in my gut as I thought of a few things I’d like her to do with her mouth.
“Depends on how dangerous you think I look, little red.”
Her smile said she appreciated the name. “You make it sound like you’re the big bad wolf.”
“More of a surly bear.”
Her gaze danced along the front of me. “Big enough, but aren’t bears supposed to be hairy?”
I grinned for her. “Not when we live in the age of clippers and razors.”
“Are you trying to put images in my mind, bear?”
“None that aren’t already in there.” A new group of patrons pulled me from the naughty gaze she gave me.
Another performance started, dimming the lights and misting more fog across the floor. The redhead’s skin sparkled again, calling for my touch as she leaned in and reached her hand out to me.
“Kaia, by the way, bear.”
Her hand was soft but cold as I laid a kiss on it. “Dev.”
“Dev? That must be a nickname.”
“Short for Devere. It’s French.”
“Mmm, a French bear here in Florida. Now, I’ve heard it all.” Her hand lingered in mine, slowly slipping away like she wanted to pull me closer. How easily I could give into it, to take her upstairs and smear that glitter across both of our bodies, but if she was truly a friend of Maddy’s, the short-lived pleasure would cause more trouble than it was worth.
“I’m sure I have a few more surprises to throw at you, but Maddy would kill me if I scared you off.”
“What makes you think you could?” The challenge in her voice dug nails into my back, pushing at the itch I needed to scratch. Sweet and earthy plumes laced around me as she dropped from her stool to step nearer.
“Experience.” Breathing her in tapped the darker recesses of my nature. “In our line of work, it’s difficult to maintain relationships of any sort outside of family.”
Green moss glimmered with a challenge, her finger poking the center of my chest twice. “Well, do you provide a safe walk service?”
The corners of my mouth twitched with humor. “We certainly do.”
“Hmm. Let me grab my things, then. I’m parked around back.”
This wasn’t a good idea, but I didn’t care. I followed the curve of her walk as she weaved through tables and people, waving and smiling before she disappeared behind the curtains. At the back door, I caught her bending over to lift a chartreuse duffle bag. Some of the other women hugged her, making plans for later or wishing her a good night. A few of them glanced my way, and my muscles tightened as she strode toward me.
I had the door open, waiting for her without pause, and her finger found my arm on her way by. Close behind, the door shut, and we were alone. The moon swaying with her hair as she bounced to her car and threw the bag in her trunk.
“Did you need me to check the backseat?”
“You mean that bear nose can’t smell it from here?” The slow blink teased me, but it didn’t persuade me that she might know more than she let on. It breathed danger into the tension between us, the one yanking me forward as her hand tugged a piece of my long hair.
“Can’t help but play with fire, can you?” I barred her in with my arms, and she shifted seductively, fingers patting the corner of her mouth.
“It was only a little tug. Don’t be so sensitive.” Red-stained lips parted, she lifted them to mine. Atmosphere bloomed between us, and my hand found her back, pulling her into me as her grip wrenched more hair. Heat drove deep as a peek of her flesh bared under my touch.
I grabbed her roughly, lifting her against the trunk, and her soft moan cracked my restraint. She clung to me as I pressed into her.
My mouth dropped to her ear, grasping for scraps of sanity. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, little red?”
Everything about her screamed for me to take her.
“I don’t think you understand how dangerous this is.”
“Oh, you don’t think I’ll hurt you. Do you, bear?”
I snorted, breath draping across her neck. It made her back arch, and I wanted to bite her. A nibble. Maybe more.
“I have a reputation.”
Her thumb fell to my lips. “A ladies’ man. I have eyes.”
“It’s not likely to stop anytime soon.”
“If your rep is so bad, why are you telling me about it instead of taking advantage of the opening I’m offering you?”
Her touch, her scent, the heat in her eyes, they all needled my resolve. Why was I?
Because of my sister. That was why. We allotted ourselves so few friends in the human world. I’d easily ruin this for her if I didn’t stop now.
“Because my sister needs a friend more than I need to get laid.”
Kaia slumped back, fingers tracing the stubble on my cheek, a pursed smile beguiling me further. “You’re a good brother.”
“Only when it counts.”
Her laughter lightened the weight of my desire for her, and I set her feet back on the ground.
“I bet.” Another little tug, and she slipped away.
The moon taunted me; traces of her essence played partner.
I cursed her for being exactly what I needed right then and went inside to the flirt-filled gazes of the ladies sitting at the bar.
With a wink on my way by, I returned to my station up front.
Remember to celebrate with me on facebook, Instagram, or twitter to take part in the giveaways. I’ll be taking entries from 2PM Saturday, June 15th until 2PM on Sunday, June 16th before I pick the winners, but if you want to win some of the extra grab bags or freebie stories, be sure to check in on the official event page.
In celebration of my upcoming novella, Little Red and the Surly Bear, I thought I’d explore a scene from the story from one of my supporting character’s point of view.
Enjoy!
Maddy pinched her son, swatting him out of the way as he pulled a fresh onion ring from the top of a patron’s plate. “You quit that before I serve you up to our customers instead.”
Theo grumbled and rolled his eyes, so she swatted him again.
A deep smoke-laced coffee scent inched through the kitchen window, narrowing Maddy’s eyes on the curls as Kalib walked to the table where Kaia sat. And neither of them told her they were coming? Oh no, sweets. That is not how she ran her social life or safehouses, and that vampire knew as much.
When she finished the fried catfish plate and served it to her customer at the bar, she detoured and slipped into the empty seat at their table. “Two of my favorite people show up at my place, and nobody warns me first. You’d better be planning me a surprise party, or I’m going to be offended.”
“Surprise.” Kalib smiled without fang, warmth and intimacy bled into it like a promise to make it up to her.
He’d better.
Maddy turned to Kaia, knowing her humanity and newness to paranormal persuasiveness, she didn’t hold it against her. Much.
“I sent you a message before I left.” Kaia’s green eyes blinked at her as is if to amplify her innocence.
A short shuffle with her phone, and there it was, just as her friend said, a heads-up text. Maybe Kaia was more of a match for this group than she thought. “Well, apparently you did. So, I’ll forgive you. You, on the other hand, are in the dog house.”
Maddy pointed at him to accentuate her point.
He played his part, dramatic in shock. “If this is what I get for surprising a friend, I will have to choose better friends, maus.”
Maybe he played that part too well, anxiety fluttered under her ribs for a heartbeat before she pushed it away. They’d been friends a long time. More than on a few occasions.
It carried her back to the kitchen.
Dev slipped in through the back—the real reason Kalib was at their establishment. Should have figured.
Her brother leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek before tagging Javier for a brief chat.
Maddy shook it off, digging into her work: tasting, seasoning, stirring, scooping. Managing the pub’s kitchen and trying to ignore the guilt of having pushed Kalib away those centuries ago. Before she knew the kind of man he was. Before she’d had Theo.
She needed a fresh air break. Or maybe a cigarette and a glass of bourbon.
Hitting a lull in the line, Maddy did just that, sneaking off as Kalib grabbed her brother’s attention. As much as she brush him off, the concrete feeling of his attention caressed her spine.
The backdoor sealed the noise and stew of scents inside, and Maddy finally found some relief. She fished out the pack of cigarettes she kept for times like this from behind the dumpster and pulled the acrid smoke into her lungs with relish before the backdoor opened again, and Kalib stepped out.
“Tsk, tsk, maus. Do you not know how quickly those death sticks will kill you?” Unceremoniously close, he slipped the cigarette from her fingers and took his own drag, the smoke pluming thicker and darker on his exhale.
Sweeter.
Kalib leaned her back against the brick via proxy as he returned her nicotine. His proximity stirring old feelings with the new ones.
The temptation to draw him closer strangled her. Too close to mating season.
She glanced at the door between heartbeats.
“Afraid of being caught by your pious brother?”
That pulled a snort out of her. “My brother? Pious? I think you’ve had something a little heavier than tobacco.”
Those elegant fingers stopped her short, drawing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.
Sanity said to push him away, but his smoke slipped into her mouth before he kissed her—intense like the first time but not fueled by the same childish neediness.
Still she could not control her ragged breath when he pulled back.
“Consider this my apology for showing up unannounced and playing matchmaker. The romantic in me can’t seem to help myself.”
Outside, the buzzing cicadas and chirping crickets, the occasional bleat from an oversized frog and the general whispering of the trees reached him. Besides his ache to be wrapped up with Kaia, peace fell over him. The dryad chose and secured a wonderful piece of land.
The Scarlet Queen bothered him, increasingly so as the sun lightened the blue of the sky and his mind grew crisp and fully awake. She didn’t use her powers on the two of them while she had opportunity to, unless she’d gone complacent through her power over others. And Severins himself was too low in the ranks for her to do the dirty work. Still, what he’d just learned about the pixie nagged him.
Scarlet had been rigid with her hands, placing them oddly on her thighs and at her sides, twitching ever so slightly, but she could have simply been eccentric. He’d met his share of odd fae over his lifetime. Without being aware of her normal behavior, Severins merely had assumptions—nothing concrete enough to plan around. The side of his head pounded in time with his heartbeat, and heat warmed the sky like his early mornings in Afghanistan with steel beach soaking up the sun and reflecting a steaming ninety degrees by breakfast.
Somehow, Afghanistan seemed easier than this. The routines, knowing the enemy, knowing the men he worked with. Severins sighed and stepped off the porch, pacing the brisk lawn as he searched for a signal on his cell. He found a spot by Kalib’s car where he maintained two bars and view of the trailer.
He dialed home.
His mother answered. “Who is this?”
“Maman.”
“Where have you been? Your leave started a week ago.” The worry in her voice weighed on his shoulders.
“I’ve fallen into something. I won’t make it unless it’s safe. Right now, it isn’t. And before you ask, I can’t tell you like this…I’m supposed to pick up Shawna, and since I can’t, I want you to. Be ready for anything.”
“Severins, you’re worrying me.”
He needed her worried, because a worried maman meant a protected pup.
“Just keep her safe for me until I get there, okay?”
“Yes, my son, I will protect her with my life.” She sounded resolved and very much like the warrior wolf she’d always been. “Give me some clue as to what I might prepare for.”
“The Scarlet Queen.” Bodies moved inside at both ends of the house. “I need to go. Je t’aime, Maman.”
She told him that she loved him, too, before he walked around the house. No signs of anyone on or near the property. But he clearly felt Kaia moving through the house.
She met him on the porch with a sleepy smile. “Hey there, Big Bad Wolf. You weren’t marking your territory on any of Eilon’s precious plants, were you?”
Severins eased her against him, running his fingers through her hair to release her scent into the air. Everything inside burned for her with such intensity that his senses sharpened. But the general cool touch of her fingertips blazed against his biceps. Bending to kiss her forehead, the same unnerving heat greeted him. “Are you feeling all right, beautiful? You’re burning up.”
“Hmm?” The strength of her surprised him as she squeezed him closer, pushing his torn shirt up his torso. “I feel fine.”
Rubbing her body against his sent a jolt of need through him. But when she lifted her face to him, the green of her eyes took on a reddish-brown ring as though the fields burned under the relentless, Oklahoma sun. She pulled at him again, but apprehension hit him instead of arousal. “Why don’t we find a soft bed of flowers to desecrate?”
Framing her face with his palms, he bent for a better look. The colors of her irises darkened along the rim, spreading like vines toward her pupils. Pliable magick wove between them, and sirens rang in Severins’ head. “Shit.”
Yanking her into his arms, he carried her inside, restraining her thrashes. “Oi,” he called in the doorway. “Little help.”
Kaia’s elbow connected with his nose, and the crunch of cartilage shot pain straight into his brain. But he held onto her until Kalib took her. Blood dripped onto his fingers as he tipped his head back until the dryad offered him a fresh towel with some ice.
The vampire struggled with Kaia in attempts of subduing her without harm. He succeeded in pinning her to the chair in which he’d slept. Bending to get a good look at her, he swore. Profanity cut short, Kaia pressed her mouth to his before she floated into the leather with a grin unbefitting of her gentle persona.
“Chai would never do that. You’re not her.”
The laugh that bellowed from her made the ivy quiver and retreat, pressing against its support in fear. She writhed in her seat, and the vampire used his hips to pin her knees together. Kaia purred at him.
Eilon sniffed at the southeast corner of his house, reaching behind him with a distracted gesture. “Bosex. Hawk. Resting in an oak a kilometer from here.”
Grown rigid, Eilon stomped his foot, his skin marbled, and ivy sprouted in place of his hair. “No. No! Nobody marks my trees. My trees!”
“Hey, oak boy.”
Eilon whipped his head around, black eyes wide and terrifying. The knobs at his knuckles sprouted thick, sharp thorns.
“Got anything to keep her from hurting herself or us?”
Black gaze swung to Kaia and back, before he shifted, ordering Kalib to bring her closer. Eilon coaxed the vines on his wall, and as the vampire set her against them, ivy wrapped around her limbs, torso, and throat. Long stem-like fingers flicked at the last vine. “She needs to breathe.”
The vine unraveled from her throat and tangled itself around her waist. Kaia jerked forward after Eilon, laughing as more vines held her.
“You’ll never win. Just let them take me.” Her body rolled against her restraints. “We’ll all dance in blood as your bodies are butchered, your bones gnawed on, and we add you to the fire like kindling.”
The bleeding in Severins’ nose stopped, and he felt it for the break, shifting it into place as he shouted his rage. Those bastards infiltrated her mind. This wasn’t a power present during their capture, and he’d never heard of a bosex that could pull this stunt off, nor a vampire without eye contact.
“Can fae perform a trick like that?” Kalib asked Eilon; he must have come to the same conclusion.
Kaia began a low, eerie song in a language he didn’t understand—her voice sounded unlike her own. Eilon stood transfixed by it until Severins skirted him toward the door.
“I know of one. The Scarlet Queen’s apprentice—a babe stolen from a very powerful family. She can do more the closer she comes.” The dramatics seemed to lessen the more danger seeped into the little house and the louder Kaia’s voice became.
Each of them stood at the ready, so Severins took his role. He pointed at the vampire. “Keep the front door in sight. Stand between anything that wants to get inside to Kaia. And you,” he pointed at the dryad, “Head southeast. Distract them if you can’t take them. I’m searching for whoever’s causing this.”
Haunting giggles cascaded out of Kaia, twisting a knot in Severins’ gut. He took a long whiff of the magick as his nose cleared and healed. “I’ll go first.”
They each moved in the precise movements of trained men. Severins followed the faint traces of magick through the trees, but it turned him around and had him retracing his steps until his wolf senses overlapped and became his downfall. Fewer animals rustled around than he expected. The magick was stronger; he could taste it, but he’d gotten lost in the woods for the first time in over six hundred years.
Stopping, Severins listened.
The trees grew silent.
The air went still.
He braced himself for attack and waited.
And waited.
The whoosh came from his right.
Severins turned to meet it.
Sharp jabs greeted the muscles as his back met the tree behind him.
A familiar fist met his ribs, and he returned the favor, finding the hawk’s flesh. Sharp streams of light reflected off the golden hue of him.
Grabbing a hold of him, Severins gained ground, twisting Eric to the left.
The swift pressure in his side made him grunt, and he knew he’d been stabbed. He held back no restraint as he shoved the hawk back into the tree, aim intact; a sharp, broken branch pierced Eric’s middle. The wood produced a wound less threatening than his own, but it rewarded Severins the time to retreat.
At the porch, he pulled the blade out and fell to his knees. The vampire stood behind him in seconds. “Silver-plated. Cheap but enough.”
Plated silver meant serious damage to his internal organs, but it didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t heal, but he didn’t have the time for this kind of wound. They wanted him down, that’s for sure. And they got him there.
Kalib pulled Severins up, maneuvered him inside, and gave him the shirt off his back. “Press this to it. I’ll find the nymph.”
And the vampire disappeared.
Tall, blonde, and charming, a new adventure has blown into Miami.
When Sergeant Severins Bouvier’s wolf senses bring him to a tiny accountants’ office, he unknowingly steps in the middle of a manhunt.
Kaia doesn’t trust Sev, but she’ll have to rely on him once a rogue group of creatures catches her scent.
Now, they’re on the run together, and chasing after her ex is the only way of ending this nightmare.
If you like the dark and sexy plots of the Dark Hunters and paranormal twists of the Anita Blake Series, you’ll love the Loving Red saga.
Buy Loving Red to start this sweetly sadistic affair today.
I dug into the earth behind my crumbling abode, cramming soil under my short fingernails as the weeds threatening to choke my garden came loose. The pile would be turned into mulch, chopped and left to rot with other scraps. Not that we had many of those.
All of my digging created two trips to the composting pile and a scant two carrots, two potatoes, and smattering of tomatoes that were mildly chewed up by bugs. I gathered them in my apron pockets and lugged my tools back to the house.
Sweat and grime swathed my face, neck, and chest, but most would have to stay until tonight’s scheduled bath, but I wiped some away from my eyes and mouth with a damp cloth and wished I’d done more when the exotic scents of vanilla and honey permeated the back entrance.
Patting loose strands of hair, I turned to find the young gentleman who liked to come read to me and my three little brats. The twinkle in his midnight eyes made my stomach flip-flop.
I curtsied a little at his entrance. “Mr. Sotir, what a pleasant surprise. Would you like some tea? I can set you up in the drawing room.”
“I would, but I am in no need of such special treatment. I can take it here with you.”
Why did his eyes sparkle that way when he looked at me? I shuffled around the kitchen, putting my haul beside the sink, filling the kettle for the stove, and pulling cups and tea leaves and a strainer.
“Did you bring a book to read to us today?”
“I did. If that pleases you. I brought ‘The Tale of Tsaritsa Dinara.’ It’s a Russian tale about a Christian queen who struggles against a Persian king due to her refusal to comply with his demands for a tribute. She galloped into battle against him armored on a white steed. I think you would like it very much.”
“A female hero?” I smiled to myself. “I think I would like that, but the kids are about their chores and lessons right now, and I’m afraid that they will be for the next few hours.”
The water whistled on the stove, and I poured the tea to serve, leaning against the counter to enjoy my own.
“Perhaps until they are finished, I can regale you with stories in the oral tradition as we walk.”
A blush burned my cheeks, hopefully hidden under the smeared soil. “What stories do you know so well to recite to me? Is it a means to parade your position over me for some kind of perversion of your own?”
He laughed silently and shook his head. “Nothing of the kind. I assure you.”
I nodded, and he extended his elbow to me as an escort.
Flutters exaggerated the flopping of my stomach, and I had a hard time following the obscure tale he wove.
When we circled back under the bridge to the muddied creek, he pulled me to a stop.
Thudding in my chest made my breath go wild as this man leaned in closer. Perhaps a perversion wouldn’t be quite so bad.
The pad of his thumb brushed dirt from my cheek.
“You are an awfully forward man, Mr. Sotir.”
“Eugene. I believe we are familiar enough for you to call me Eugene.”
The touch of his mouth replaced the sun with stars, and my fingers found his suit before he retreated.
“Forgive me,” he said against my lips. “I couldn’t seem to help myself. Perhaps, we should return to the house to keep me from overstepping my bounds again.”
It’s the year of rebranding for me. I’ve begun re-working my website since I purchased my own logo last year, but it’s still only half complete. So, in 2019, I plan to finish that website, streamline my press website, and to rebrand my books.
And that’s my mission today. Book rebrand number one.
This is Loving Red, the first book in my Loving Red Saga, and since it’s a paranormal romance/urban fantasy, I figured Valentine’s Day was a great time to re-launch and put it on sale. I’m closing in on the end of the second installment, Little Red and the Surly Bear, which is the prequel to the first novel in preparation for the third and last in the saga, Loving Them Both.
I have all three covers for the series, so what better time to share them all with you.
The Official Back Blurb:
Tall, blonde, and charming, a new adventure has blown into Miami.
When Sergeant Severins Bouvier’s wolf senses bring him to a tiny accountants’ office, he unknowingly steps in the middle of a manhunt.
Kaia doesn’t trust Sev, but she’ll have to rely on him once a rogue group of creatures catches her scent.
Now, they’re on the run together, and chasing after her ex is the only way of ending this nightmare.
If you like the dark and sexy plots of the Dark Hunters and paranormal twists of the Anita Blake Series, you’ll love the Loving Red Saga.
Buy Loving Redto start this sweetly sadistic affair today.
If you follow the rest of my Broken Worldseries—which will be aptly renamed The Blood Phoenix Saga, you’ll see these storylines intersect with Ria’s world, as they’ll both come together at the end of each series.
Her books are getting new covers this year, too, when the fourth of five books will be released.
If you haven’t already gotten your hands on Loving Red, get it now for 99 cents. It includes a free ten-chapter short featuring Ria’s best friend, Ari, and a two-chapter sneak peek of the new prequel.
Let me know what you think of the new covers in the comments below.
In the meantime, here’s a new excerpt from Loving Red—Chapter Twenty-Four:
Following Kaia strained Severins’ calm, but her scent clearly marked his way along side the vampire’s Jag. After five hours on the go, they stopped at the North Carolina state border. The Jag seemed out of place in front of the doublewide trailer and monstrous trees.
Severins met Kaia at her car door in his camouflaged pants, offering her assistance out of the car, and she meowed playfully at him before taking in the space.
“Something feels different about this place,” she said, voice soft but spreading across the grounds like an earthquake.
“It’s protected. That’s what you feel.”
A short, frail-looking male swung open his front door and appeared on the square wooden porch. His skin marbled like the bark of an old oak with tints of green. Long and wide eyes assessed Severins and Kaia before his gaze slashed to Kaia’s vampire friend, Kalib. The performance was rather dramatic.
“You said one—a single, human female. Human. That is not human.” The dryad’s twig-finger pointed to Severins with further flair.
“We were lacking in our information. The wolf is no harm to you.”
“No harm. No harm!” His hair sprouted green and miniature ivy fell around his ears. “At best, he’ll piss on my plants. At worst.” The small man’s voice squabbled high and fluttered through the leaves above. “At worst!”
Kalib rolled his eyes, and Severins shook his head. Kaia, however, seem entranced with the dryad’s tirade.
“Eilon. Fucking wood nymphs. Eilon.”
“Oh no, sir. You can stay in your pretty little metal box for that.” Eilon slammed his door again in a giant huff.
Kaia jerked and came back to the small clearing. Her eyes took on a darker green in these woods. “He did not like either of you very much.”
“Tree-folk aren’t group friendly unless there’s a ceremony or an orgy, although they’re practically the same thing to them.” Kalib pulled two long swords from behind his seat—long enough they shouldn’t have fit back there. He strapped them into holsters hidden beneath his loose cotton shirt. “I’ll take first watch.”
“Dryad’s don’t like wolves too much—territorial and all that. Piss in the wrong part of the woods once, and it’s like you killed their elder.”
“Did you tinkle on one of his plants?”
Severins snorted in delight at hearing the word tinkle come out of her mouth. “No, I’m house-trained, beautiful.”
Her giggle lightened up the small dark place, dancing along the trees as though they responded to her presence. She certainly possessed some tie to the magickal world. It explained why she attracted so much paranormal attention—his included.
Kalib hollered through the door at the little man, and Severins leaned Kaia against the side of the sports car.
“Before we go in there with that dry, old lump, give me a kiss.” He leaned into her, moving in seventy-percent of the way and leaving her the other thirty to come to him, but her hands dipped across his chest and stomach as she examined his different tattoos. Her touch stirred his raw need for her.
After a few seconds, she lifted and closed the gap between them.
Opening to him, her responses changed, shifting since their kiss in Wayne’s truck. He took advantage, pressing her closer and stealing her breath.
She drew back with a smile. “I think I’m beginning to like this lifestyle.”
Her nails scraped down his flanks, and he fought his own arousal. Severins pressed into her before backing away, slinging a shirt on to cover himself before following her inside.
The dryad jumped into the room from the kitchen, waving at them. “No, no, no. Shoes off!” Eilon skidded to a stop with his hands out.
“You. Before you enter here, you will make my pledge.”
The ends of Eilon’s knobby fingers grew sharp, and Severins surrendered. “What kind of pledge are we talking about?”
“You repeat after me. I pledge not to piss on any of Eilon Broaddock’s indoor plants.” The little man paused and snapped at him. “Repeat it.”
“I pledge not to piss on any of Eilon Broaddock’s indoor plants.”
“I pledge not to scratch, bite, or chew on any of Elion Broaddock’s precious house items.”
“I promise not to destroy your home. I may be a wolf, but I am also a gentleman.”
“Repeat as I said.” Eilon’s sharp fingers extended further.
Severins sighed. Threatening a wolf with wood wasn’t the fae’s smartest move, but he repeated the pledge instead of provoking his host further. The restraint took enormous effort because the little drama queen was asking for it.
Eilon stepped back and nodded, handing him a towel and returning to his kitchen. “And wolf will not sully Miss Red.”
“You’re venturing outside your jurisdiction, there, Oak Broad Oak.”
The vines of his hair tangled and retreated to a brilliant golden brown. “My stuffed radish. You have your own red, and you’re not to touch Miss Red if yours turns you down. She’s my bed guest, and I will not have her sullied.”
Eilon disappeared into the kitchen, and Severins’ spine whipped straight. Kaia’s face reddened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I like him.”
Around the corner again carrying an oversized serving tray filled with a tiny tea set, Eilon resembled a normal guy who smiled like an ornery adolescent. “You, on the other hand, Miss Red and I could share our bed with.”
Severins’ muscles convulsed as he reached for her, but she smiled at him and shook her head. “Sorry, Eilon. It’s going to be a no.”
His slender shoulders shrugged before he walked into the living room, where he set the serving tray on a peculiar and thorny coffee table. In fact, the house defined eccentric. Knick-knacks filled the shelves and displays—many of them were ceramic gnomes and girls in red hoods. At first glance, the rooms seemed to be covered in retro ivy wallpaper, but the place erupted with chirping after Eilon set the drinks. Ivy grew across the walls and vaulted ceilings.
Severins cleaned his feet with the towel the dryad supplied, and Kaia tip-toed to a small white flower, which opened to her from within the leaves. She could have been one of the Swedish fae her grandmother told her stories about. The joy in her stirred the rest of the ivy, presenting her with small, white and yellow flowers, furthering her elation. Turning her brilliance on him, the magick of his world grew more beautiful.
***
Each of those flowers fluttered open, and an elegant fragrance greeted her. Eilon’s place filled her with wonder. She’d met a few strong and strange creatures, but he was something else—the magick in him derived from more than the mere strength to persevere, it connected to the earth in a way she’d always wanted to be. And yet, the way Sev looked at her, maybe he felt it, too, as a wolf.
Venturing into the room as Sev wiped his feet, she found the seat opposite of Eilon on a wide, leather couch, which seemed at odds with the rest of the decor. Eilon, however, fit the place perfectly. The sharp corners of his smile reminded Kaia of the young men who whistled at her at the university when she visited her cousin or friends for coffee. His beauty had more symmetry than was natural, eyes still wider in this form than the average human’s.
He crossed his ankles and watched Sev sit beside her. “Let’s get through with these hostly duties of mine. Hot beverage? I made hot-lemon tea and local honey.”
“Yes, please.”
The young man poured three cups, taking honey in his own before receding in a wide-armed leather chair. “Well, the bathroom is beyond the kitchen. And since Red doesn’t want to share my bed, you both will share what’s here. Questions? Reconsiderations?”
The deep fantasies in Eilon’s gaze as he posed the question tickled her. “Don’t make me put on my mean-face.”
The tea was sour like hot lemon water, and it desperately needed honey. Sev grimaced as he sipped his own and returned the cup to its saucer. “So, are you a part of the Assetato or a contractor?”
“I have many connections.” Drinking his tea with flair made Eilon seem far more delicate than she believed him to be. “This connection is the repayment of a favor.”
“Do any of your connections hinder you from educating a human about our world?”
Kaia sat straighter, setting the cup and saucer down to keep from spilling it. Grown used to the deeply seated secrecy that came with the other, she wanted to prove herself worthy of the knowledge.
Eilon regarded them both for so agonizingly long that Kaia gave up hope of his saying anything positive when he said, “Not so strictly that I cannot provide her with an introductory lesson. How’s your memory?”
“Sharp but not perfect.”
“Mmm.” He nodded and reached into the small, brightly colored glass and brass tree beside him and pulled a vial hidden away as a flower. Uncorking it, he tapped a drop of pink liquid into her tea. It puffed and bubbled and returned to normal. “That will help you.”
Lifting the cup and saucer in apprehension, Kaia could detect no difference in her drink, and Sev leaned in to smell it before nodding his go ahead. The tea had a nice balance of sweet and sour, but bitterness tainted the aftertaste.
“Be sure to finish that before we’re through or it won’t be so effective.” Eilon stood with his own tea and sipped as he paced along side the curio-cabinets encasing a diverse ceramic gnome collection. He tutted. “Where to begin?”
After another sip of his tea, an idea struck him. “Ah. Let’s begin with this. Zombies do not exist. We have thirteen main species: fae, vampires, dragons, mers, angels, gods, bears, canines, felines, humans, elementals, birds, and equines. Variations happen as a matter of time and preference. But I suppose what’s most important is knowing the majority of mythological creatures that have stories are real. Yes! We are all real but not precisely in the way we are written.”
His hand shot into the air with exclamation. Kaia sipped her tea again, and his stories began. All creatures took on a human form after puberty—although some fae were human-sized to start with—like Eilon himself, they did not always look the same. The more abnormal or larger creatures have grown endangered as the human populace expands because they had fewer places to hide, like the centaurs and dragons. But many of the creatures’ numbers remain small because of the wars between the bosex and the vampires. For thousands of years, they battled each other almost naturally—a family feud, but the first war ended and a second began when the Assetato took hold of a large number of allies and struck against the vampires in the late twelfth century. But the Celampresians had traitors allied against their own, and old ties broke down. The wars have been consistent since—too many battles won and lost on both sides.
Both camps were stationed somewhere in New York, but smaller checkpoints scattered the country and the world. Eilon waved his hand as though he cleared the air. “I know not the infrastructure, but many check points for us are family-owned and ran, or for favors like this.
“But I digress, the camps are only the backdrop for the reality of this world. Yet, still, I must start from the beginning or closer to it. For made creatures—or those that can be both born and made, they hold misplaced magick, spread by the sole remaining god from the Atlantean pantheon, the god of beasts.” Eilon paused with dramatic flair, making himself akin to the pouty bout of supernatural creatures flooding cinematic media.
With a swift transition, Eilon persuaded Kaia of the dangers vampires and bosex had alike—speed, agility, power, and at times, extra abilities, which she’d already seen with the twins and Kalib. Scarlet didn’t show any of her powers, which didn’t bode well for Kaia and Sev in the end. Both races shared a fondness for biting—in affection and in the way they transformed humans. However, vampires were sterile, and bosex were not—who generally had litters at a time, like their full-animal counterparts.
But Eilon did something interesting. He didn’t say they were dangerous, but they had dangerous attributes, and she appreciated that. Kaia had complete faith that none of her men would hurt her. In fact, bosex were more thoroughly integrated in the human world, protecting them and themselves by blending in. And technology has helped the vampires in the recent decades.
Sev flipped her hair through his fingers. The first time she looked to him and smiled, Eilon snapped for her focus again, so she sat forward like a good student and gave him her full attention, although Sev didn’t let up his playful touch.
Beyond the basics, the cultures of each group varied as widely as humans did, yet he knew few of their species were distinctly matriarchal across the board, like dragons. The idea of dragons hiding somewhere in the real world nudged at her every childhood fantasy. Many groups of fae also had female leaders, although not predominately.
Sev leaned up, the front of his body searing along her side, and he draped her hair behind her ear. “You can take control of me any time you want.”
This earned him a sharp swat from their host, and Kaia’s cheeks flared with heat.
Kaia raised her hand, earning a dubious look from Eilon, but he gestured for her to speak. “Can you tell me anything about a pixie named Scarlet?”
“Scarlet, what, my dear?”
Shoot, she didn’t know. “Just Scarlet. She reminds me of Audrey Hepburn—the bun, the pearls, the conservative dress, and the gloves. Her features were more exotic, darker, almond eyes. Can you change physical appearance in your human forms? Or do you get what you get?”
“You get what you get—same as human genetics. Some can change their appearance, but that is rare.”
“That’s probably why she wears the gloves. She can’t change the scars on her arm.”
Eilon straightened, reminding her of an old, Catholic-school nun by the way he looked down at her. “Marusya! You’re speaking of Marusya Negreev—one of Celampresian’s best weapons during her strike against the fae. She single-handedly infiltrated the faerie mound in the Soviet Union just before the Russian Revolution and the fall of Tsar Nicholas the second. Many believe that the fall of the mound influenced the fall of the tsar’s regime, but no one knows for certain. Many fae died without their home to hide within.”
Kaia’s heart broke at the sound of loss in his voice. “Was that your home?”
The barest of nods sent Eilon across the room. He pulled a spray bottle from under the side table and gently sprayed the ivy growing over his walls. Sev sat up again, arm braced around Kaia, soothing her in a way only he seemed able to do.
“You were able to live in a nearby oak, weren’t you?”
Eilon focused on his work for a long time before he peeked at them. “I was a child then.”
With a few more pats and strokes and sprays, the fae spun with a new flourish. “Enough about old times. Enough! I will tell you of The Scarlet Queen, we will have dessert, and then off to bed. Miss Red does not like me to stay up all night without her.”
Kaia giggled and covered her mouth, picturing this small man wrapped around a plush radish. The way Eilon smiled at her made it harder to stop. “Do you actually call her The Scarlet Queen? Like the evil red queen or the queen of hearts? Alice in Wonderland?”
“Yes, like her. She was a bloody queen. Her death toll will remain the highest for all fair folk unless we are eliminated. Extinct. It may come to that some day.
“She is ruthless and dispassionate and has been this way since before she allied with the vampire queen. Her name should have been a sign of what she’d been burdened with, and her family was blamed for much of her bitterness. Names can prove powerful. So powerful to taint the soul. When Marusya gained power in the Soviet mound, she flayed her own parents for her merciless upbringing and proved to the people that she would defeat all who came against her, earning her title as the Scarlet Queen.”
And Scarlet wanted the bear—wanted her and Sev as casualties of war, a means to prove her lack of mercy.
“Did you say flayed?” Sev features drew closed.
“Like butchered? With the big, long knife?” Fear pumped through her, and her fingers dug into Sev’s knee.
“She uses no knife. The power is in her hands. The Scarlet Queen is a powerful spell caster. Flaying is not her only ability. She can perform many gruesome acts with them. I have articles. I will get them for you and bring dessert.” Eilon stood abruptly and left the room.
Kaia gripped Sev harder. “If she has the power to flay us, how do we stand a chance?”
Life’s endless promises seemed severed, the end coming closer and closer with each breath.
I started writing my story, “The Glittering Pearls,” for TRANSCENDENT four years ago after a conversation my husband and I had about eating sins. Like he often does, Jason triggered the necessary magnetic pull of random scraps from my mind to create Jace, an Eater, entering a depository after a long day of absorbing others’ sins.
Here are the original six hundred words:
Gravel crunched beneath Jace’s sneakers as he marched his way to the Depository. The predominately iron structure made the unbearable weight from his last purge dissipate enough for Jace to stand two inches taller. It was the only place he found any resemblance of peace.
The high and open arches of the building let in too much light during the day, but at twilight, the black metal stood as a shadow amongst small, glittering pearls. It looked dangerous, which meant no one else would be there—other than his fellow Eaters.
Upon entrance, Jace palmed the iron and held on, releasing a single moment from the day’s purges.
Echoes from a shrill scream reverberated within him as his arm jolted forward, slicing a blade through soft flesh and muscle, a set of nails digging ragged circles into his left shoulder. Hot blood spilled over his hand and the handle of the black iron knife used for official Guard business.
The sparse and open foyer of the Depository returned to him, and the hunch of his shoulders eased. He couldn’t rid himself of many at a time, but most of the elder Eaters made frequent ritual of it. Why they wanted to prolong their misery, Jace couldn’t figure. He rid himself of just enough to stave off a little of the pain, just enough to allow him a few precious hours of sleep. Tonight, his hand would meet the iron more than normal.
Two purges in one day demanded a lot.
Jace wound his way up a spiral staircase to the top level, a relatively small section of the building that housed donated cots and old furniture. Several Eaters took up the beds and couches, leaving smaller spaces for others. As he passed a few, he could see the twitches in their muscles and knew they did not sleep.
A corner sat empty of younger Eaters, like himself, as an elder lay propped against a slew of old cushions. None could truly bear to be near an elder, weighed down with more than a decade of sins on his soul that the evil radiating into his immediate surroundings.
Jace took a circular chair, with a short round back that curved into arms. It cupped his body as he pulled his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes to debilitating guilt and flashes of torture. Iron arched over him, and he touched it once more.
His hand closed around Ms. Wendy, the young librarian’s, throat, opening her mouth in a gasp of air. Leather and molding paper scented her clothes, but her hair hinted at herbs and romance. Ms. Wendy’s skirt crept up her thigh and hip above his hand as he grabbed her. A fire burned low in his belly and extremities. Adrenaline and lust filtering out of control as pain clawed at his arms—the first bit of her fight.
Peeling away from the iron; the withering pain curled him further in on himself.
Two guards in one day were too much for a pentam. But Jace turned sixteen in two days. The purges would grow worse as his duties moved him closer to the pristine parts of the city and its capitol.
After this, I left it for three years without much outlining or serious drive to figure this story out, although on tired days, I would think about it and what it stemmed from.
In 2016, a new layer bloomed, and I’d had a rough outline for the majority of the story. Then, I imagined this as a serial of stories from different Eaters’ points of view. Now, I can’t imagine trying to sustain the delicate balance of details and suggestion to create violent sins without showing too much for another story.
It’s no secret that I write a lot of violent and deadly and gruesome things. I have a tendency for killing kids in my stories and novels, but this one…was hard.
Maybe, I’m being jaded. I lost a quarter of this story after a bout of elated creation.
Now, let me be clear, most of my writing does not happen this way. Most of it comes in spurts and bits and me forcing myself to try words and phrases and sentences until I make some progress—even if it’s only a hundred words.
When I have these pure moments, they’re usually the best bits of the story in its final form. Afterwards, I chattered on excitedly to my husband and step-son about how proud I was of figuring out my characters and giving them strength.
Then, I came back, and those five pages were gone.
I checked every saved file and back up and messenger and email I could to find those five pages. I couldn’t.
So, I wrote them again. And with far less enthusiasm. Because I knew it wouldn’t be the same. The re-write missed something from the original that I couldn’t get back.
This tainted the rest of the story for me, but I had to get it out. It still needed finished, and I can’t say I’m not proud of the results. It’s a good story. It does exactly what I want it to.
But I’m disappointed.
This has never happened to me. I mean, I’ve lost a lot of pages before, and ones that I was proud of, but those were always in novels, and the impact seemed far less.
And I’ve been cursed with creative honesty. So, there you go.
I do hate to be bittersweet on a day like today because, on a whole, I am so, so proud and excited about this collection of stories.
We have seventy-one different tales and fourteen original pieces of artwork inside.
A parallel dimension exists below the surface of reality.
Its doors swing open every time we sleep, allowing us passage into the land of DREAMS, a plane rich with exotic fantasy and limitless bliss. Within this wonder world, however, lurk dark corridors and terrible creatures—some unfortunate travelers never escape the NIGHTMARES waiting in the shadows.
Many have tried bridging our worlds. Seekers and wise men have meditated for VISIONS and ingested intoxicants for HALLUCINATIONS in hopes that the veil between our realms will thin, allowing access to all the thrills, joys, and horrors beyond our senses.
TRANSCENDENT is an open gate, a gangway linking our realm to the shimmering sphere where nothing is certain and anything is possible.
