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Friday Snippet: Lie to You (Part 2)

Edited to add Victor’s cover, in case you haven’t seen it yet.  Continuing the free read Lie to You, Victor’s prequel.  (Part 1)

Warning:  BDSM and sexual content.

After last night’s activities, his bad knee hurt worse than usual, compounded by an assortment of bruises and marks on both thighs.  Scowling, Victor straightened his legs out beneath his desk.  Tendons torn years ago pulled and burned almost as badly as the day he’d blown his knee.  The steady ache did little to improve his mood, which admittedly was always bad the morning after he indulged his sadist.

The intercom lit up and made an annoying chime.  He stabbed the button.  “Yes?”

His secretary had a hesitant squeak of a voice that made him think she was asking questions every time she spoke.  “Mr. Connagher?”

He was so not in the mood for timid creatures today.  If he wasn’t careful, his VCONN partner would yell at him for scaring off another worthy office manager, but good God, couldn’t he find someone with just a little backbone?  He fought for a gentler approach rather than throwing open his door and bellowing.  “What is it?”

“A new hire is here to see you?  Shiloh Holmes?  Ms. Kannes sent her to meet you?”

Rubbing his knee, he tried not to sigh like a martyr.  “Send her in.”  I’ll try not to scare her off on her first day at VCONN.

He stood to round his desk in welcome, but his damned knee was stiff and fragile, as though too much weight on it would make the whole joint shatter.  He settled for at least standing politely in front of his desk as the door opened and the new hire walked in.

She marched straight up to him and held out her hand.  “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Surprised by her bold manner, he shook her hand, taking in her wide smile and warm brown eyes.  She met his gaze unflinchingly, which he knew was no small feat.  He decided to push just a little and see how much it would take to make her drop her gaze.  He kept his fingers firm on hers, his gaze as steady and deep as though he sought her deepest secrets.

One brow quirked.  Then the other, her eyes widening with surprise.  The corners of her eyes crinkled and he suspected she might be laughing silently at him, but he didn’t look down at her mouth to find out.    Her eyes warmed to molten chocolate, sparkling like she had a dozen secrets all bottled up just waiting for him to yank them out one by one.

She made a soft little sound, barely more than an indrawn breath, but it made his inner demon perk up with interest.  It was all he could do not to step forward, bury his hand in her tawny hair, and jerk her mouth to his so he could punish her lips for that delicious little moan.

Too late, he remembered that this woman was supposed to be his new employee.  The CEO of the company had no business testing his female employees, and for what?  To see if he could break her?  He already knew he could.  He always did sooner or later.

Abruptly, he released her hand and whirled away.  “Welcome to VCONN, Ms…”

Damn it, he couldn’t remember her name and pain knifed through his knee at the sudden movement.  He was forced to limp the few steps back to his chair and sat down heavier than usual.

“Holmes, sir.”  She replied evenly, not upset in the least by his macho dramatics.  “Shiloh Holmes.  Are you hurt?”

He jerked his gaze up to her face, but saw only open and honest concern, not ridicule or speculative interest.  “Old college football injury.  I tweaked it last night and it’s hurting today.”

“Ah, that explains all the trophies I saw downstairs.”  She gave him a little chuckle of admiration and interest that tightened a fist in his chest where his heart used to reside.  Dressed in a velvety suit that matched her eyes, she sat in front of his desk, alert and eager as new employees usually were, but without any hint of nerves or shyness.  “Are they all yours?”

“From my glory days.  But that was a long time ago.”

“Where did you play?”

He settled back in his chair, amused at how easily she’d turned the tables on him.  Who’s interviewing who?  “Texas A&M for four years.  What position do you think I played?”

Her lips quirked.  “Definitely quarterback.  You’re the kind of man who’d lead the whole team down the field, refusing to settle for someone else calling the plays.”

“Oh, I always call the plays.” Damned if her eyes didn’t smolder.  Didn’t she have any idea what sort of man she was playing with?  “But I think you must have taken notice of the photographs, too.  Maybe you even had time to read one of the clippings in the case.”

Her left eyebrow arched.  “Not at all.”

She lied and she knew that he knew that she lied and she didn’t care, not by the widening smile she gave him.  “Really?”

“Would I lie to you, Mr. Connagher?” 

Polite flirting had turned much too serious.  He couldn’t do this.  Had he learned nothing all those months, pretending to be safe and normal for Kimberly?  Who’s lying now? 

Furious at himself and yes, at her for tempting him, he jerked his hair tighter in the ponytail.  The small pain sharpened his control, but not enough, not with this saucy morsel staring at him with those big chocolate eyes.  He gripped his right thigh and squeezed that bruised muscle until his cheek ticked.

“So what position have I given you here at VCONN?”  Deliberately, he chose rather insulting language to see if he could goad her.  Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d quit.  Today. 

“Associate Producer,” Shiloh answered, adjusting to his professional switch seamlessly without rising to his bait.

“It’s an entry level position.”  He tried to guess her age without asking for her file, and he put her mid to late twenties.  She wasn’t a young woman fresh out of college.

As though she knew his line of thought, she explained, “I worked my way through college, so it took longer than usual, and I’ve had other jobs.”

“Why are you starting over?”

“I wanted something new.”  For the first time, she lowered her eyes, but it was a deceptive move.  She still looked at him through her lashes.  “I like a challenge.”

Unfortunately, so did he, and she was giving off all kinds of submissive invitation vibes, whether she knew it or not.  Giving his leg another painful squeeze, he cautiously waded into more treacherous waters.  In a job interview, it wasn’t customary to ask about a person’s sexual preferences, even if the company was an erotic cable television channel.  “Are you aware of the kind of programming that has made VCONN famous?”

“Of course.  I did my research before applying.”

He wanted to ask if she’d researched him.  Maybe that would explain her familiarity and lack of fear…although if she knew more about him, surely she’d be afraid.  More, though, he wanted to ask if she was submissive or merely a damned good actress.  If she was as attracted as him.

But he didn’t dare.  It was too late.  From the first moment his secretary informed him of the new hire, Shiloh Holmes had been off limits.  The CEO could not dally with female employees without opening himself up for sexual harassment charges.  Especially when said CEO is a sadist.

 

Victor’s story HURT ME SO GOOD will be released Oct. 5th from Samhain Publishing.

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Oklahoma!

So my Beloved Sis has been rehearsing for weeks to be Aunt Eller in the musical Oklahoma! at her local community theatre, along with her friend I know as Pesh (Laurey).  It was a no-brainer that I’d go — but I wasn’t sure if the monsters would make it.  They *wanted* to go, but I had to be realistic. 

After all, Oklahoma is my least favorite musical of all time. 

It goes back to high school when Mr. Adams (music teacher) would let us watch a musical in class the week after regional contest.  It usually took several days for us to get all the way through a musical, and I remember that one whole day’s viewing ended up being that dream sequence where Laurey imagines the shoot out between Jud and Curly.  I hated finding out that whole day was a dream!  Argh!  I felt cheated.

However, that all changed watching Molly and the rest of the cast.  But I have to admit, the FUNNIEST aspect was watching the girls, especially Middle Monster.  I about died laughing at her when the lights came up for intermission.  Her eyes lit up and she said, “Is it over?!?”  Honestly, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be disappointed or glad when I told her no, it was only halfway.  She loved it — she was just getting tired of sitting.

All of them were terrified of Jud, despite Molly’s assurances after the show that he was really a big teddy bear.  My Dad was there too and we kept snickering at all the little lines that went right over the kids’ head.  Ado Annie and Ali Hakim had us rolling in the aisles.  Sooo funny — their personalities were perfect and they were able to ad-lib through the little mess ups that make live theatre so much fun.  (Like when Ali accidentally broke a bottle of bath salts as he was reviewing Will Parker’s bag of gifts he’d blown his $50 on.)

Plus we had a nice dinner and strawberry shortcake for dessert, followed by a nice visit at McDonald’s (the only place we could quickly find open at 11 PM) for ice cream, coffee, and dinner for Sis.  We didn’t make it home until after 1 AM but it was so worth it.

It was a night the kids will never forget.  Well done, Sis and Pesh!

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Friday Snippet: Lie to You (Part 1)

(I know it’s not Friday my time yet…but it is Friday somewhere.  Right?  I didn’t want to torment my Twitter buds until tomorrow!)

When the beta readers replied back after reading Victor’s story Hurt Me So Good, several people mentioned wanting to know more about how he and Shiloh first met.  There’s a reference in the opening chapter about how that interview “set his desk on fire.”  That sounds like a great free read, right?

Luckily, Victor agreed, so he’s here to tell you all about that first meeting in a short story “Lie to You.”   Over the next week or two, I’ll serialize it for you here, and then you’ll be able to download it in pdf or epub. 

Warning:  BDSM and sexual content.

 

Victor Connagher stared at the nearly nude woman squirming against her bonds and felt nothing but boredom.

Silken, Dallas’s exclusive bondage club, was packed with eager, fawning submissives and spectators alike.  A few Dominants mingled in the crowd, but only two that he knew, and they were both already involved.  Oh, there were posers who flapped around and crowed like roosters in the hen house, but if they obviously couldn’t control themselves, they wouldn’t be getting too serious with anyone. 

The owner would be desperate for an unattached Dominant to give a real show tonight.

Victor knew he ought to leave, no matter how much he needed to do something, anything, to ease this brutal need.  There was no way in hell he’d play it cool enough to pull off a demonstrative scene, not when he felt this raw and out of control. 

Once upon a time, he’d been able to put on a pretty good show.  He’d drawn out every sweet cry of his submissive, taunted the audience to a fevered pitch, and endured the torment of his own unanswered needs.  Even that denial had been a secret pain that he’d enjoyed. 

Nobody had known he’d been playing a game.  Lying.  To himself and everyone.

A pained gasp drew his gaze back to the bound woman.  Her lover—because if that moron fumbling with a velvet flail was a Dominant with a capital D, then Victor would eat his own crop—landed a blow to her buttocks that wouldn’t have killed a fly.  She squealed dramatically, and Victor clenched his jaws to keep from letting out a derisive laugh. 

So fake.  So scripted.  So boring.

He glanced at the sweating, eager faces watching so avidly and he wanted to scatter them with a few well-placed blows.  Bored out of his skull and pissed that he’d lied this game for years, he turned around to leave but jerked up short.

His ex-fiancée, Kimberly, stood in front of him, twisting her delicate hands together with anxiety, as beautiful and fragile as he remembered.  She’d never kindled any true passion in him, which is exactly why he’d chosen her.  Another lie, that he could pretend long and well enough that she’d never find out what he hid beneath the constant mask he wore. 

I can’t believe I was stupid enough to date her so long, let alone ask her to marry me.

The man she was with wrapped an arm around her waist.  Victor tracked that male arm up to his face and bit back a curse.  Ryan, the owner of the club, boomed a welcome.  “Victor!  It’s so great to see you again!  We’ve been wondering where you’d been lately.”

At least Victor’s boredom was gone, but his stomach churned with a multitude of emotions, shame and regret leading the charge.  He tried to think of something he could say that didn’t make him sound like a jealous asshole, because he really wasn’t jealous.  Not even when Kimberly turned more into the other man’s embrace, clutching him frantically like she thought the big bad wolf was going to eat her whole. 

Eyes bright with hope, Ryan asked, “Could you do a scene for us tonight?  You’d bring the house down!”

For the briefest moment, blinding terror flashed in her eyes, and Victor knew she must be remembering their last night together.  The illusion that he could be a loving, protective husband had been shattered that night, when he’d hurt her so badly that she’d fled, still babbling her safeword.

He felt his face freeze into a cold, empty, and terribly familiar mask.  “No.”

Ryan said something else in that jovial blustering way of his but Victor didn’t hear him.  Without another word, he turned away.  He strode to the exit, his pace measured but determined to get out of there as quickly as possible.  He didn’t let them see the terrifying need hammering away inside his body, or the disgusted shame burning like acid up his throat.  He didn’t let them see him run.  Another lie, because he fled into the night. 

Only when he made it to the privacy of his car did he let the rage bubble free.  He trembled with the force of it.  God, he’d been such a fool.  He’d deliberately hidden his true nature from the woman he professed to love and honor.  He’d lied to everyone, especially himself.  There was no way in hell he could ever step foot back in that club and pretend to be a normal, sane Dominant having a little fun with a willing submissive.

Not with this darkness clawing inside him.

He reached beneath his seat, fumbling a bit until he found what he was looking for.  In the shadowed parking lot, he couldn’t see the details of the crop, but the leather wrapped around the shaft bit into his palm.  He cast a furtive glance to make sure no one was around, and then he brought the crop down across his thighs.  The steering wheel and close quarters hampered his blow, but blissful pain still cut across his skin. 

The sharp crack dissolved some of the desperation shrieking inside him.  So sweet.  It’d been so long since he’d indulged.  Since Kimberly dumped me months ago.

He laid the crop in his lap, started his car, and drove home, fingering that leather with anticipation.  In record time, he stood in his bedroom.  He forced himself to methodically strip and put away his clothes.  He yanked out the band holding his shoulder-length hair back so tight from his face and he felt his control falter. 

Some days the only thing holding him back was that fiercely tightened hair, the constant dull ache on his scalp reminding him to keep the monster at bay.  Tonight, the beast refused to be denied.  Yet he still made himself wait, letting his need build in intensity. 

He tried to imagine a submissive waiting for him to begin.  A woman, bent over the side of his bed, every sweet curve of her body begging for the crop to fall. 

He brought the crop down on his right thigh in a whistling blow that made his entire body jolt, but it was her scream he heard.  She’d be loud, rewarding him with every cry, curse, and shout.  She would be afraid of him…but not terrified.  Not disgusted.  She would endure the pain because he willed it, because he needed it, and she needed and wanted to please him above anything else in this world. 

If he were incredibly lucky—and since this was a fantasy, he might as well enjoy it fully—she’d even get off on the pain, too.  No silly games, no bondage or role play to distract him, only the ecstasy of pain.

He brought the crop down again.  He didn’t need to slowly build intensity, because the need was always there, digging vicious claws into his spine.  He knew exactly how hard he could strike without cutting his skin wide open, but tonight, he did it anyway.  He bled.  He cursed.  And he came with such intensity that his bad knee gave out and he nearly planted his face on the carpet.

He’d punished himself because he had to have pain, and without a willing submissive, his own would have to do.  Most of all, he’d punished himself for the greatest lie of all.

There was no submissive out there somewhere, waiting for him, his pain, and his love.

 

Victor’s story HURT ME SO GOOD will be released Oct. 5th from Samhain Publishing.

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Free Reads Coming Soon

In the next six months, I plan to release 3 new free reads to help build your anticipation for various releases.  I planned to finish Shadowed for Return to Shanhasson first, but Victor had other ideas.  In the past 24 hours or so, he’s given me a really nice spicy but short prequel to share with you before his book Hurt Me So Good releases in Oct.   You’ll get a taste of him tomorrow.  *winks*

I’m still working on Shadowed, and I’m also planning a prequel to Lady Wyre’s story in March.  I know what the event is, I just have to figure out the details.  Faking one’s death and hiring a renowned assassin requires delicate precision!

All short stories will be posted as Friday Snippets and then collected into pdf and epub for easy download.  I plan to upload them to Scribd too.  If you have any other ideas of place to advertise free reads, let me know!

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A Jane Austen Space Opera

In a galaxy where Jane Austen reigns supreme…

Lady Doctor Wyre (we’re already talking about changing the title, too) has been contracted by Samhain and will be available March 2011!

Quite honestly, I’m not really sure what genre this new series falls into, but I’ve been calling it a Jane Austen Space Opera.  It’s not steampunk, exactly, because it’s based on the Regency not the Victorian Era.  It’s sort of Alternative History — except the countries and colonies of the early 1800s are instead planets, so space travel is involved instead of locomotives or dirigibles.  Instead of brass goggles and gears, the gadgets are based on nanotechnology.

Oh, and if you’re expecting the same old Regency tropes, you’re in for a big surprise, because the LADIES rule this galaxy.  Typical roles will be reversed, so expect Lady Rakes, Female Pirates, and Blushing Male Debutantes, where the gentlemen hope to land a titled lady and not the other way around.  These heroines are not wallflowers or spinsters.  They’re subversive and bold and outspoken.  For instance, Lady Wyre may just decide to keep both men who are interested in her.

Funny behind the story moment:  I printed out Mrs. Giggles’ Regency drinking game as inspiration for ways to warp and twist all those beloved Regency tropes!  So you can imagine, this series is going to be a total blast to write, while still having solid, rich worldbuilding and steamy romance.  Stay tuned for details!

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Back to School

Tomorrow’s the day — the monsters head back to a brand new year of school.  I’m not as prepared as I’d hoped, but with the delay in getting our A/C fixed, it’s the best I could do.  Plus we were out of town Sat. for my MIL’s birthday. 

So today was full with a massive grocery run to stock up on school lunch and snack items.  Laundry, of course (it never ends).  I also wanted to start them off with fresh bedding, which isn’t as easy as it sounds, because their beds are buried beneath stuffed animals.  Of course, cleaning off their beds meant we actually had to GET in the DOOR…

Yes, their room is a pig sty.  All three monsters share a bedroom (their choice) with overflow into That Man’s next door office.  We decided to clean his office first (which hasn’t been used all summer because our A/C was out).  That took as long as I’d planned to spend on their room, and we still had to unbury their beds, etc.   I threw away several bags of trash, packed up 3 large tubs of stuffed animals, and tried to organize at least a little.  I’ve still got a few good hours to spend on it yet to get it really well organized, but it’s definitely better than it was.  (You can see the carpet.)

All this work is worth it though because “back to school” means back to a dependable writing schedule for me.  Princess has to be up between 5:30 and 6 AM every morning, which means I’ll be up, too, with plenty of time to get a little writing done. 

In fact, Sept. 1st is always like a new year for me.  A time to rededicate and kick off new goals.  It’s my hope to finish a first draft of Vicki this month so I can move on to Maya#2 Sept, Oct.

Ah, fall!  I can’t wait for cooler, crisp mornings, pumpkins, colorful leaves…  Definitely gets my writing blood pumping!

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Friday Snippet

My apologies:  I don’t have a Shadowed snippet this week.  Honestly, I haven’t worked on it since last week — just too busy getting the kids registered for school, etc.  However, I hope that once you see what I *have* been working on this past week, that a few of you will forgive me.

First draft, subject to heavy revision.  Warning for language. 

What the hell is she up to?

Elias shifted on her bed, trying to figure out what was taking her so long in the bathroom. Last night, they’d been too frantic to even make it to the bed for the first three or four times…and now she wanted him to sit here and wait while she primped.

God, I need a drink. A couple of shots of whiskey would take the edge off, mellow him out so he didn’t fall on her like a raving lunatic. That’s the only way he’d survived three whole months without her. That, and of course driving by like a love-sick fool to make sure her place was okay. Sometimes he’d even sat outside in the wee hours of the morning in his truck for hours, just watching, remembering, trying to let go of his damned fool pride.

If he’d used his key and come to her one of those dark nights, would she have forgiven him? If he’d called, just once, instead of sitting in his empty apartment staring at the phone all fucking night?

Or did it take a half-starved homeless kid to bring us back together?

The bathroom door opened, and Elias damned near choked to death because his heart tried to crawl up his throat. He couldn’t breathe as Vicki came near her bed.

She wore a filmy white negligee that tied beneath her breasts and fluttered about her hips, oddly demure but so damned sexy he couldn’t remember his own name. Her dark hair fell loose and soft about her shoulders and her molten chocolate eyes shimmered in the candlelight. She picked up an opened bottle of wine on the bedside table and calmly poured two glasses of red. Still silent, she handed him glass and sipped hers, watching him with those dark, mysterious eyes.

He tipped his head back and drained the whole thing, even though he hated wine.

“What do you think?”

It had to be a trick question. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to make a joke. “Did we get married and I forgot about it?”

Her eyes caught fire and she slammed the fragile wineglass down so hard he feared it might shatter. “I told him this was a stupid idea.”

“Jesse?” Elias fought to keep an even voice. “What the hell does he have to do with…with…” he swept his hand at her negligee, fighting not to fist his fingers in that transparent material and rip it off her.

“He swore you’d like it.”

“So what, now you’re letting your cabana boy pick out sleazy underwear and babydolls? For me?”

“At least I’m not wearing it for him.” She whirled away. “Forget it, Reyes.”

Jumping up, he whipped out his arms and caught her, drawing her back toward the bed so he could sit back down. Snarling, she jerked and fought his grip, but he wrapped his arms around her, trapping her arms with his, and simply held her until her ire faded.

When he saw the tears on her cheeks, he cursed beneath his breath and held her tighter. He’d forgotten that sometimes anger from her hid her true emotion: hurt.

“I never should have worn this thing. I hate it.” She sniffed, a tiny little sigh of her breath, which in another woman would have been full-blown wailing and sobs. He tucked his head close to hers, even if she skull-slammed him. “I told him it was a stupid idea. Just forget it.”

“How could you hate this gown when I’d like nothing better than to rip it off you and ravish you senseless?” She shook her head, so he drew her harder into the cradle of his thighs, making sure she felt his erection.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I bet you had a hard on as soon as you walked into my bedroom.”

“It wasn’t this big, babe, this hard, this painful.” He lowered his voice and nuzzled her neck. “I’d like to think that you might say ‘I do’ to me someday.”

“You’d have to ask me first,” she retorted.

She had him there. He’d thought about it, sure, even when she was still an attorney. Even if she had to stand between the law and the very criminals he was putting away. But then his bigger head started working again and he remembered how quickly a marriage could go down the shitter when he worked his kind of hours. “I can’t stop being a cop.”

“And I can’t give up Jesse.” She whispered, but her voice rang like steel. “If you love me at all, don’t ask me.”

Not even for me? The words thundered in Elias’s head, but he refused to voice them. He did love her, and he’d had his chance. He’d fucked it up and walked out three months ago. That she’d let him back in this far was more than he deserved. He had no right to demand her whole heart for himself.

God forgive him, she’d already given up her career. Maybe not for him, not in so many words, but he couldn’t ask for anything else. It was his turn to sacrifice to be with her, and the only damned thing he had was his own fool pride.

His stomach churned like he’d swallowed a fist-full of razor blades, but he said nothing.

Nothing at all.

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Terrible

This past week, I’ve read Stacia Kane’s Downside Ghosts trilogy Unholy Ghosts, Unholy Magic, and City of Ghosts.  I read the last two back to back, even staying up half the night last night in order to finish the series.   (3 AM and I had to work today!)

It’s been on my mind all day.  I obviously enjoyed the books to gobble them so quickly, but I’m not left satisfied and happy.  No, the more I think about it, the more terrible I feel.

Terrible.  If you’ve read these books, you know what a great character he is.  He’s one of the main characters introduced in the first book and becomes Chess’s love interest later in a bit of a love triangle with Lex.  Terrible isn’t an everyday sort of hero — and these books aren’t everyday sort of books, either.  Downside is a very grim place.  People live on the streets or barely have a home over their heads.  They’re drug addicts, whores, drug dealers, thieves.  The protagonist, Chess, did not have a happy childhood.  In fact, it was horrible.  Any abuse or neglect you can imagine, she suffered. 

I went into the books knowing that she’s a drug addict, and honestly, at first, that didn’t bother me.   It was a great character flaw and gave lots of interesting traits to explore.  I figured it would give her a great character arc throughout the series.  But in that regard, I was disappointed.  She didn’t overcome her addiction.  In fact, it worsens.  In book 2, she’s getting drugs from two different dealers. Instead of popping a pill here and there, she’s downing 3 or 4 at a time, or mixing kinds.  Uppers to stay awake, downers to sleep, Cepts to keep her on her feet.

It became frustrating because I knew it was affecting her state of mind and her ability to do her job as a Debunker.  Plot clues that she couldn’t figure out because of the drugs.  She kept forgetting things.  Her addiction gave her enemies numerous opportunities to manipulate and blackmail her.  Even her lover is using her and she’s using him.  All she really cares about until the last book is the drugs.

Worse, though, are her lies to the one character who really cares about her.  It’s a testament to how great Stacia crafted Terrible — because I got so angry at Chess for lying to him.  Hurting him over and over.  He’s not squeaky clean either.  He’s an enforcer for Chess’s drug dealer and he busts people when they owe money.  Yes, he’s killed people.  But there’s a raw sense of honor in everything he does, while Chess lies and lies and sleeps with everyone but him.  Anyone but him, because she might, maybe, care for him.

I don’t want to spoil the last book for anyone still reading it — I don’t think it’s been out long.  Just let me say that I’m not convinced Chess can be happy, and I think that’s why I’m so…depressed, I guess.  I gobbled the entire series but felt down and sad when it was over.  It’s such a grim world.  Nobody’s happy.  Nobody succeeds, not really.  There’s all this terrible darkness and filth and misery and what hope is there?  How can Chess hope to succeed when she’s more addicted than ever?  She’s already broken laws that would get her killed or kicked out of the Church entirely — for drugs.  Now that she cares about Terrible, I can only imagine the foul deeds she’ll get trapped into to keep him safe.  Or for him.  Or for his boss, the drug dealer.

This is my favorite part of Unholy Magic and THE moment for me.  When Terrible became the most important person in the series for me (although I was already loving him, especially when he braved the blizzard to help Chess out of her withdrawal nightmare):

“I want you, Chess.  Make no mistake on that one, dig? Want you so bad. So bad I ain’t even can think of any else sometimes, ‘cept gettin you under me.  Ain’t give a f*ck what pills you swallow get you through the day or what happens you ain’t got em, aye.  Still want you. … But I ain’t…ain’t think I can take it, wakin up next to you on the morn, have you fake like nothin happened.  Or tell me you made yourself a mistake. Or say, aye, thanks, maybe try that again on the sometime.  I know how you run it, keepin it cool and no repeats, and I git it, aye? Got your reasons. … I figure you really wanted me you’d say.  Like now, maybe, if you dig.  I’ll f*ckin carry you down your place on a run, you tell me aye, get you on your back afore the next word comes out your mouth. But you oughta have yourself certain, causen I ain’t lookin for charity, an I ain’t lettin you go after.  Once … once ain’t enough for me, dig?”

Terrible, yes he is.  But she’s worse, because right after this incredible speech, she runs off to bang another guy.  I know why.  I understand the motivations and she does grow emotionally into book 3.  But Lord have mercy, such a speech, such a man, and I just don’t think Chess can stand up under scrutiny.  Not to him.

So I finished book 3 sad and discouraged.  Will they make it?  I don’t know.  And how can it be possible that the Church has no idea (Chess’s words — maybe they do but she doesn’t know they know) about her addiction, when all her “friends” and enemies can so easily figure it out and use it against her to blackmail her into some new treachery?

So much darkness.  I was hoping for a light after three books, something to shine against that darkness, but I just don’t know if they’ll make it, and that leaves me sadder than I can say.

Well done, Stacia, for driving me insane and keeping me up all night.  Terrible is a character I won’t soon forget.

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Fun in the Country

The monsters called with tales of all the fun things they’re doing in the country.  They went fishing last night and today, supposedly catching a TON of bass and perch.  They’ve ridden Papa’s poor horses to death, learning how to trot and even riding outside of the corral.

Today, they went to an Amish farm and got to milk a cow, pet a goat, and ride in a buggy.  How cool is that?  I want to go!

Seriously, every time we go to Papa’s I get the country yearning.  I want a garden and animals of my own.  It’s all the fence fixing and snakes and ticks and no high-speed internet that worries me.  (I have to have high-speed for the Evil Day Job.)  I could get Hughes Net but I’ve heard bad things about them.  Plus the kids are in excellent schools right now and have a ton of friends here.  Moving to a much smaller country school is quite a change, and I want them to have the best possible chances for scholarships.  I can testify to how difficult it can be to win college scholarships when you come from a small school.  There’s just not as many opportunities.  Is it worth the trade off?

We haven’t decided yet but we’re talking about it every time we go to the country.

Meanwhile, the kids don’t want to come home.  Might have something to do with school starting next week….or just that they’re having that much fun.

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Friday Snippet: Shadowed

Continuing from last week, this is Gregar’s story.  Note:  first draft, subject to change and heavy revision later before I compile the complete short story.

With Kae’Shaman’s instruction, I parted the mark’s dream as easily as a tent flap and stepped within. I had no need of the man’s name or Camp to know he was my target, because Vulkar’s Call pounded fiercely in my head, thundering hooves to split my skull wide open.

Kae’Shaman had assured me that a mark eliminated in his own dream would also die in the waking world unless he was an extremely strong dreamer, but I had to be certain of the blow. I had no guilt to weigh my heart, but I did have my pride and my kae’valda, the honor I wore in my hair and colors I wore about my hips. I was the best Death Rider and I would kill appropriately, cleanly, while awarding the most blood sacrifice to Vulkar.

Wrapped in Shadow to hide myself, I crouched in a corner of the man’s dream and paused to gain my bearings.

Despite being Sha’Kae al’Dan, the man dreamed of an outlander place, not the tents of our Plains. Cold stone pressed against my back and the rank odor of fear, blood, and urine burned in my nostrils. Distant screams and wails echoed eerily so I could not tell the source. This was no pleasant dream I had stepped into.

My mark dreamed of the Endless Night, confirming the necessity of his death.

I tasted something foul in my mouth as though I had been sick. My stomach churned. Inside my own gift of Shadow, my skin felt cold and clammy. No one could see me. No mortal eyes would pierce my invisibility.

But if I had stepped into a shadowed nightmare, a place ruled by the Endless Night…

Vulkar, let me strike quickly and leave this dream unnoticed.

Straightening, I glided silently after my mark. Creeping down a tunnel, he hunted someone, unaware that Death was already on his trail. Shadows cloaked the narrow way, thick and suffocating. They felt hungry, alive, and all-too knowing. My dark gift from Vulkar shivered on my skin, slinking and winding about me like snakes.

Shadows flock to me. As though they recognize me.

Furious, I sliced my left palm with the rahke. Pain cleared away the terror worming into my brain. I gave every drop of my blood to the Great Wind Stallion and His fire burns away the Endless Night!

Immediately, the tainted shadows flinched away from me. My mark was not so lucky. Shadows encircled his throat and winded about his limbs, pinning him against the wall. His eyes bulged and he opened his mouth to scream. A wrist-thick vine of shadow eagerly slithered around his throat, tightening like a noose.

I moved forward to put an end to the man’s suffering, but a voice echoed in the tunnel.

“COME, RIDER OF DEATH, AND SEE THE MARK I HAVE SELECTED FOR YOUR RAHKE.”

I scanned the tunnel, but no one was there, just the voice that made my teeth and bones ache. The man I’d come to kill struggled against the shadows binding him. “Never! I kill for Vulkar, not for you!”

Another Death Rider? Startled, I searched the mark’s hair, but in the darkness of the tunnel, I couldn’t tell if he wore red beads. However, his rahke shone in the darkness, pure bone against the black.

Exactly like my ivory rahke.

Chilled with foreboding, I drew my gift tighter about me, making myself as small and invisible as possible. If this mark was a Death Rider, lured specifically for some dire purpose, then I had to know the Endless Night’s schemes, not just to protect myself but all Death Riders who roamed the Plains in Vulkar’s name.

“HER DREAM AWAITS. STEP INSIDE AND MEET YOUR DESTINY. I GIVE HER TO YOU.”

Released from the shadow bonds, the man staggered backwards and instinctively brought his rahke up. “Death Riders never kill women.”

“SHE YEARNS FOR THE EMBRACE OF SHADOW, EVEN WHILE SHE RAILS AGAINST MY MIGHT.”

The voice crooned, still vile but sleek and soft and slick with oiled promises. The opposite wall swirled with shadows, opening to reveal a woman, asleep in a high bed. Her black hair gleamed against the sheets like a raven’s wing, and her skin was as luminous as though she’d swallowed the moon.

“ALREADY, SHE DREAMS OF YOU.”