Today I have a couple pics for you, and the pith and blather in my head about them. ^_^
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A Halloween Masquerade Ball. Fun, right? Not so much. Dancing, drama, death.
Blood cascaded from the hem of my black gown as I strode away from the cops still talking to witnesses. Anger, hot and prickly chewed through me, from core to crinkled silk. I couldn’t believe how lax things were at Fulsom Alternative Academy. They just let human’s get bitten by vampires? So.Not.Right. He should’ve had a long, long life--human life, that is, not an immortal bloodsucking one. Thorn, my totally gorgeous werewolf boyfriend, shouted something at me, but his voice hardly pierced the crackling haze of anger chattering in my skull.
My best friend Kelsey, her pumpkin orange skirt whipping behind her, ran to catch up. “Avery, the police still want to talk to you. Where are you going?”
Heat rolled off my skin, drying the blood to a tacky, crusty mess over my furled fists. My jaws hurt so bad from holding back sobs I could hardly answer. “Let the police deal with Biter Bitch Barbie. I’m getting some answers.”
She stopped dead, her beaded strappy heels skidding in the grass. “Are you going to Aspen?”
I sucked in a hot breath, glared daggers at the lit window on the bottom floor of the Nightbreeds’ high school. “Damn right I am.”
That's right. I've recouped, pulled up my big girl panties, got my Fierce on and dove back into the deep end of the query pool. I'm praying silently, but chugging on, I've got too many stories to drown in query angst. So, for the fun and fierceness, I'm posting the poem I wrote from my heroine's POV:
I Would Cease…
I would that this renegade heart
Cease within my breast
That I might be free of its permanent pain.
I would that this severed soul
Cease its tattered bleeding
That I might be free of this venom not my own.
I would that I not be this beast,
Cease to be that, which I most despise,
That I might not suffer such sanguine savagery.
I would that I had died when he left me,
Cease in my quest for life,
For in the blessed death of sleep I would be free.
I would live this life no more,
Cease the slaughter I embraced,
For alive, alone, my heart howls in silence.
I would cease...
Werewolf packs have a hierarchy: lap dogs, guard dogs, top dogs. I’m nothing like them, a werewolf hybrid and hell-bent on taking out Xander, the pack alpha and sadistic son of a bitch who made me. Regardless of my werecat distraction, or Xander’s guard dog, I will rip out his throat and spit it back in his face because revenge is a bitch, and so am I.
Sariah DuShayne (Jessica Biel) She foolishly thought she could share herself with two men, two breeds of Were and not pay a price. When a full moon threesome goes awry, Sariah's lover is killed and she becomes a hybrid. Decades later, when her tolerance for Xander has grown thin and a friend is attacked and left for dead, the time for revenge has finally come. Sariah will risk last life and limb to punish the male Weres for their crimes, to her and the other girls left behind in Xander's quest for gratification.
Some dogs should be put down. Xander Waithorn is one of them. In Victorian England, he killed my lover and turned me Were. Little did he know, when he bit me, he gave me the power to one day get revenge.
For decades I struggled to harness the gift of my new moon hybrid powers. I regret most of the blood I shed over those years--it is illegal to kill humans, after all. A century later, in a
Only Stephan Colinford, a sexy as hell MMA fighter with a hidden secret has distracted me from my growing vendetta. After Xander attacked a close friend, I waged war on the monster, stealing his territory block by block. And, one night, after I’ve taken his friends, and undermined his authority as Alpha male, I’ll rip his throat out and spit it back in his face, because... Revenge is a bitch, and so am I.
It's time to unveil the Goody Basket contest for Slade and Kally!! I've been holding this one back until the ARe interview, so I could announce it on air. ^_^
Some dogs should be put down. Xander Waithorn is one of them. In Victorian England, he killed my lover and turned me Were. Little did he know, when he bit me, he gave me the power to one day get revenge.
For decades I struggled to harness the gift of my new moon hybrid powers. I regret most of the blood I shed over those years--it is illegal to kill humans, after all. A century later, in a
Only Stephan Colinford, a sexy as hell MMA fighter with a hidden secret has distracted me from my growing vendetta. After Xander attacked a close friend, I waged war on the monster, stealing his territory block by block. And, one night, after I’ve taken his friends, and undermined his authority as Alpha male, I’ll rip his throat out and spit it back in his face, because... Revenge is a bitch, and so am I.
Well, I've read it twice now. Read ALL of Stephenie's books twice, and for what it's worth, I like The Host far and above the Twilight saga. Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely a Fanpire, I love the angst, wolves and vampires in the Twilight saga--hell, I went out and bought Alice's choker with my royalty money--but there is something bewitching about The Host.
The Ohio arena smelled a lot like the nightclub in Michigan. The major difference? This place smelled like cheap beer and ball sweat...
This is a little snippet from Beau and Laney, the sequel to Slade and Kally:
Her sweet perfume curled in his sinuses, but it was the sun on her skin, the way it lit her curves and set her brown eyes on fire that set his blood to surging south away from his thinking brain. Damn, Laney. Why’d you have to fill out so well?
Delaney’s butt was a perfect ornament on the hood of his Mustang when she shimmied closer. She wrapped her fingers in his, and pulled him close, dust motes and pollen dancing a ballet behind her when she spoke. “Remember the last time we were in this field?”
“How could I forget?” His body certainly hadn’t, and that was ten years ago. “You were skinny and skittish as a colt.”
“And you still kissed me anyway.”
His gaze wandered her body, then returned to her face, where he tried to gauge her reactions. Stephan offered her a hand. Her gaze left his eyes, moved to his hand and then seemed to shift internal before her eyelids dropped into a sexy come-hither look.
Stephan wasn’t going anywhere, but he damn sure meant to pull her in. Her fingers were delicate in his when he curled them to his palm and yanked her close, striking her body soft body against his. A strange tingle danced through him. His breathing quickened, his heart raced.
“Oh?” Her breath was intoxicating, an enticing caress on his face. “Don’t you mean the lack of distance between us?”
He released her hand, wrapping his arm around her, spinning them both until her back was pinned to the vinyl coated chain link cage. He curled his fingers into the fencing to either side of her shoulders, leaning close, feeling the heat rise from her before running his nose along the exposed skin of her throat. Goddammn she smelled good--like a lioness but wilder. He growled in her ear. “Do you have a problem with this?”
“Not at all. In fact...” It was her turn to ogle his body. He could almost feel the weight of her gaze straying over his pelvis and loins. He knew she was thinking thoughts as erotic as he was. Stephan caught the color of her imaginings through his untapped werecat senses. “I whole-heartedly encourage it.”
“...bring me to my knees, Saint...” Her thoughts solidified into words for him. Stephan liked the path her mind was on. Seemed Sariah could be a match in bedroom sports.
A soft smile, spread across his lips. He released the cage with his right hand, fingers braiding into her hair on the way to her cheek. “But what if there was distance... if I wasn’t here for a while? We are heading out of town, traveling to another fight venue.”
She pouted. “Bummer. I was just beginning to enjoy this.” Her thoughts weren’t so acquiescent. “...tackle him, ride his hips down to the mat...”
He stiffened just at the images he glimpsed in her mind. Oh yes please. Wait. No, not now. Maybe not ever.
He couldn’t let her know how badly he wanted the same thing. He’d have to tell her everything, then, and he couldn’t admit to what he couldn’t control. Stephan stroked the fine skin of her cheek. “It’ll be a couple weeks. We’re hoping to actually meet a representative of Couture’s gym, maybe Randy himself...”
“Can’t stand in the way of that, can I?” Her bottom lip was full and his mouth watered to taste it. His thumb strayed from her cheek to trace the bottom edge of her lip.
“You could try...” He wanted her to; the lust surging in him demanded it. Her gaze fell, and he stepped back. “By the way, I never properly introduced myself. I’m Stephan Colinford.”
“It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance.” A purr rolled through her words. She made no attempts to hide the cat within. “I’m Sariah DuShayne and I’m dying to know just one thing about you...”
