Sunday, December 7, 2014

Six on Sunday - BREACHERS: Viento and Bycote

Six paragraphs from BREACHERS: Viento and Bycote (Bk 3), a paranormal/urban fantasy romance.

1. "If you're thinking about a reconciliation, Mr. Viento, forget it. We're working as a team on this venture, and nothing more. Speaking of venture..." She turned on the overhead lights and reached for the brown envelopes. "If you're not going to sleep, we might as well look at what Mr. Morrow needs done. Have you ever been to London?"

2. She grabbed him by the wrist and squeezed, increasing the pressure on the limb until the fragile bones snapped, and he released his hold. The man started to howl in pain when she turned on him, letting her features shift to where he could clearly see her transformation. The glowing red eyes. The multitude of razor-sharp teeth that glistened in the lamp light when she opened her mouth. He whimpered in shock as she hissed at him.

3. "There's no statute of limitations on murder," Fasha finished. She reached over Jahar's shoulder to turn one piece of paper around in order to read it more easily. She laid a hand on his arm while doing so, and the contact was almost electric. His heat and energy were an invisible veil floating up and over her, suffusing the air with his masculine scent. She could hear the steady pounding of his heart, and the blood as it rushed through his veins like the most delectable soup. Her hand jerked away, but not before Jahar cast his eyes at her.

4. Her emphasis met its mark. She saw how his face sagged slightly as he reluctantly accepted the fact that her feelings for him were gone. Fasha hesitated. Suddenly, she wanted to take back her words. She wanted to let him know that flame had never gone out. Even though over the years, it had slowly diminished from a roaring bonfire to a flickering candle, it still remained. Still glowed, even in her darkest times. But she couldn't tell him. Not here, and not now. And especially not when all the anger and hurt she'd kept bottled up inside because of his actions were being uncorked so she could spew her venom at him.

5. She listened carefully, straining her ears to hear the steps which had dogged her for the past several minutes, but all was quiet now. A dog barked in the distance, perhaps alerted by an unknown intruder. The faint clop-clop of a passing horse told her a main thoroughfare was just around the corner. If she could make it to that street, there might be a public house nearby. Amid the noise and drink, she would find sanctuary, if only for a little while until the place had to close. But she could worry about that later. Right now she needed to get as far away from her pursuer as possible.

6. “You're right. I miss the sex. I miss holding you, and kissing you, and loving you. I miss listening to you brush your teeth in the mornings. I miss the way you hum to yourself when you're studying. I miss coming back to the apartment and finding you there in those damn grungy sweats, crashed on the sofa. I miss the fun times we had together. I miss the fun times, and the bad times, and the arguments we had when things got hairy. I even miss the petty little things that used to irritate the shit out of me.” He slapped a hand to his chest. “I was the one who walked out. I was in the wrong. And I regret it. Hell, I've been regretting it for the last three years. If there was any fucking way I could turn back the clock, or somehow go back in the past and stop myself, I would.”

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