NaNoWriMo Day 4

Still going along but I have to work in chunks.  I’ve had a lot of distractions with real life and work, but I keep giving myself small chunks.  Write 500 words and take a break.

Write another 500 words.

It’s slow but it is progress and the words are adding up.

I managed to write a little in the car yesterday on the way to the funeral, and then slowly worked my way toward the last 700 words last night.  I’m sitting at 7664 words this morning, my last day of vacation.  But I keep getting distracted.

I love watching cheesy horror movies and I’m on my second today.   But I am writing at the same time, just nothing major in word count.  I’m also going to vote today, so I’m not sure how much time I’ll lose this afternoon waiting in line.

But that’ll free me up tomorrow and ensure I don’t get sucked into work and forget to go vote!

Continuing from the last snippet:  (again, not NaNoWriMo material, not yet)

It’d been easy enough in the beginning to accept that Charlie wanted two men in her bed.  He was merely thankful they were all still alive and that she’d escaped Queen Majel’s Runners.  He hadn’t even minded when she’d made love to him and then Gil or vice versa.  In the beginning, she’d often had them both in her bed, but they’d never interacted.  It’d been very much a “wait until it’s your turn” situation.  Not that he’d complained, again.  She kept him well satisfied and he’d never felt slighted or neglected in any way.

But night after night after night in that small ship speeding through the galaxy had begun to wear upon him.  Why he didn’t know exactly.  He loved her.  She loved him.  Gil loved her without question as well.

Sometimes love isn’t enough.

He winced at that thought and noticed he was stroking the hilt of his favorite knife tucked into a sheaf on his hip.

Her hand settled on his forearm, drawing his attention to her face.

“What is is?”

He gave her a jaunty grin.  “Merely dreading the next dress shop, Your Grace.”

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head as she studied him.  He fought to keep his shoulders relaxed and his face smooth of any upset.

“I see.”  She linked her arm with his and drew him alongside her and Gil.  “I thought perhaps you’d received a new contract and were afraid to tell me.”

“I wish,” he muttered.  A little killing always helped him keep the darkness at bay.  That, and visiting her.  But even with her admittedly divided attention, that same old uneasiness was beginning to gnaw at him.  Soon, he’d be unable to sleep, tormented by old shadowed pain.  Pain he’d thought he’d left behind a very long time ago.  “Why would I be afraid to tell you?  You already told me you wouldn’t try to make me quit.”

He couldn’t help that small emphasis.  He’d do anything she wanted within reason, but if Lady Wyre thought she could bat her eyes and make him stop being an assassin, then she’d be sorely mistaken.

She let out a low, rich chuckle that heated his blood, even while her words made him tense.  “Don’t challenge me, Sig.  You might not like the outcome.”

It was easy to slip the knife out and press the tip to her side before she even drew a breath.  “Don’t challenge me, Lady Wyre.”

She hissed beneath her breath.  “Don’t call me that, even here.  One never knows where the Queen’s Ravens may listen.”

Blasted woman.  She ought to be afraid of him not the distant albeit powerful queen hunting her all across the galaxy.  He jabbed the knife a bit harder.  “Do you honestly think Majel has spies here?  Look around, Your Grace.  Do you see a single red coat?  A single Britannian ship in the docks?  No.  Hoeng Gong is open to everyone except Britannia, which is why so many people are willing to risk trading here.  Even if Majel knew you were here, she couldn’t do anything.”

“You’re a fool, then.”  Charlie’s voice cooled but her pitch didn’t rise with alarm.  Calm and cool even with a knife poking her in the ribs, she drew to a halt and stared up at him levelly.  Gil cursed low under his breath.  “Never mind, Gil.  I’m fine.”

“That knife is pointed at your heart,” he replied grimly, his big right hand shifting toward the ancient pistol he kept beneath his coat.  Sig couldn’t help but grin, trying to antagonize the man.  They’d clashed early on and even bloodied each other a little, but she’d quickly put an end to their alpha dog posturing.  Maybe a fight would put him at ease at least long enough for a contract to come through.

“No matter.”  She shrugged, completely nonplussed.  “He knows I’m always prepared for such events, don’t you, dearest?  He was introduced to the corset I fondly call the iron maiden before I ever left Britannia.”

Indeed, their first meeting had gone rather like this, with him threatening to kill her while she looked him in the eye and dared him to try.  He hadn’t seen that steel-walled corset again.  Had she brought it along on his ship?  Would she have thought to wear it?

Do I want to risk bloodying the woman I love just to prove a point?