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A PICTURE’S WORTH 1000 WORDS ~ JULY

How it’s already the first Monday in July, I have no idea. Seriously… but I’m not complaining. It’s summer vacation. No school lunches, begging kids to get up. Threatening a deal with Crowley if they don’t do their homework, and best of all…DOLLAR DRINK DAYS AT McD’s… (everyone needs a vice. Just saying.)

Anyway, it’s another flash fiction Monday, and this week is a lovely photo, though, not an easy one. Of course, none of them have been easy, but I keep hoping. Keep praying that just once, the story will be there and I won’t have to drag it out. This is not that month, lol. But… I do have something. So, without further delay, here’s the picture and the story.

07-2015 - BarefootInField

Come to me, Daniel. I’m waiting. I’ll always be waiting.

“No!”

Daniel bolted upright, his voice still echoing in the room. Sweat stung his eyes as it dripped down his forehead, his heart pounding against his ribs. He tossed back the thin blanket and swung his feet to the side, the rough feel of the unfinished floor grounding him slightly. He stared at his hands until his vision adjusted to the dark, not surprised at the tremor that seemed to have taken hold.

It’d been three months, and he still dreamt of her every night. Still felt the panic of having her disappear. The pain of finding her bloody. Broken. Dead.

Daniel.

He cupped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the voice. Her voice. Not that it’d do any good. She’d simply move inside his head—whisper her siren’s song over and over like a message on a loop. Drive him to the edge only to disappear as the sun peeked above the horizon. Stole her power as the light clawed away the black. But she’d return with the stroke of midnight. Test his sanity one more time…

An image flashed in his mind, the clarity of it stealing his ragged breath. She was dressed in white, her long chestnut hair lifting off her shoulders int he breeze. Those brilliant green eyes had filled with joy as she’d picked up her shoes and turned, walking barefoot along the path. She’d stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, laughing before daring him to catch her. Then she’d taken off, the soft cadence of her footfalls drifting along the air.

He’d waited. Given her a head start. Knowing he’d catch her before she reached the pond down the trail on the other side of the hill. He’d smiled, already imagining her silhouette flashing in and out of view amidst the trees as the path wove through a small stand—the source of their privacy once they reached the cool water. He’d pictured stripping her down—watching her pale skin gleam in the late afternoon sun. How she’d react to his every touch. How she’d feel moving beneath him, her body surrounding him, the slick slide of his cock mixing with the raspy sound of their breath. The way her fingers would clench his back as she climaxed around him.

I’m waiting for you.

“Shut up, just shut the fuck up!”

He pushed to his feet, grabbing his pants off a nearby chair. He tripped toward the doorway, trying to tug on his pants without stopping. It’d only fuel her power—give her more time to block his escape.

He stumbled into the hallway then headed for the foyer. The bedroom door slammed shut behind him, as the lights flickered on then off, a low buzz filling the air. He didn’t stop, barely registered the noise as he focused on the silver-colored know twenty feet in front of him.

A chair scraped out from the kitchen table as he passed it, the ghostly silhouette of her wavering close by. He didn’t acknowledge it—knowing he’d never get out if he looked at her. Saw the wounds carved into her skin. The bruised pattern around her neck. He’d never realized how brutal murder was—not truly—until he’d found her…

He shook away the thoughts. He couldn’t have known. Couldn’t have anticipated that bastard would be lurking. Waiting to steal her away. Take the only truly beautiful thing in Daniel’s life. That their game would end as yet another statistic. A number on a case file.

You knew what he was capable of. You never should have left me alone.

Daniel bowed his head as he palmed the doorknob, her words stinging as much now as when she’d first appeared to him. The air cooled along his neck, and he knew she was standing behind him—waiting for him to weaken. To turn around.

He twisted the handle, surprised when it actually turned. He’d lost count of the times she’d trapped him there. How many times he’d been forced to relive that night—see her death through her eyes. Shit, he didn’t even know how she did it. If any of this was truly real.

Daniel.

He reefed open the door, staring out at the lamplight. A light rain misted the air, blurring the glow of the lamp into a wash of grays and yellows. He placed one foot beyond the threshold, willing himself out the damn door, when icy fingers cupped his shoulder.

He froze, the sheer pressure of the invisible touch holding him captive. His stomach rolled in protest, the acid taste of bile burning his throat.

He clenched his jaw, finally glancing back. The tattered remains of her short, white dress hung off her shoulders—the red patches bright against the fabric. As if she were somehow still bleeding. Her once soft hair shot out in a tangled mess from her head like a fuzzy halo of dull brown. But it was her eyes that always took his breath away. Hollow and sad, with more than a hint of bitter resentment shining in the green depths. He’d never thought she could look at him like that. As if he’d been the one to steal her life away.

He blew out a shaky breath, noting the way it misted in front of him mouth. “Isabel.”

She jerked back at her name, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it held any power. If he somehow affected her as she did him. She recovered quickly, making the remaining chairs around the table shake. “You left me.”

Her words bit at what little remained of his heart. “Never. He took you from me.”

“You knew how dangerous he was. You. Knew.”

Daniel could only nod. He had known. He just never thought the man would go after her. Not her. Not when Daniel knew he’d loved her, too. “I’m sorry.”

“Then prove it. Come to me. I’m waiting for you.”

“Isabel. Please. I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

“Both, I suppose. You know that. Someone has to make sure he pays. It’s my job—”

“Your job was to love me. Protect me.” She glared at him, this time breaking glass next to the door. Pieces shot through the air, one cutting his jaw. “Don’t you love me any more?”

He didn’t bother wiping at the blood. “You know I do.”

“Then come to me.”

He set his jaw, firming his hold on the door as he finally turned away. “No.”

He launched himself onto the porch, fighting against the pull of her icy grip. Scratches rose along his neck before he managed to break free—stumble down the three stairs to the walkway. pain flared through his limbs, the sharp ache stabbing through his heart.

He stared at the house, his gaze drifting to the glass. Solid once more, it reflected the eerie light, the flawless surface mocking him.

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t live like this. Wondering from one day to the next if he was losing his mind. If anything was real, or if he was caught in some kind of endless loop. Groundhog day from hell.

He drew a quick breath. He needed to stop this. Break free of the guilt. Tomorrow, he’d check himself into the center. Find a way to rid his mind of the memories. The nightmares. Find a way to move forward—put the bastard behind bars.

Bastard. His best friend. He was going to find a way to ensure his best friend never hurt anyone else ever again.

The panicky feeling ebbed slightly, the feel of the cool mist calming him. He exhaled, spinning toward the street as he opened his eyes.

Isabel hovered an inch from his face, those eyes burning into black. “I’m done waiting.”

 

That’s it for me. Now go check out the other ladies. A big crowd this week. So lots of great stories.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Jessica De La Rosa

Paige Prince  |  Gwendolyn Cease  |  Kayleigh Jones  |  Kellie St. James

 

IT’S STILL ROCK ‘N ROLL TO ME…

Hey all, welcome to July 1ST!!!!!! Happy Birthday Canada! So lucky to live in such a beautiful place, that’s pretty damn progressive in its thinking. And in celebration of the first Wednesday, it’s another favourite’s post. This time—MUSIC (ARTISTS AND GROUPS)

Now, originally, I’m sure everyone, including me, thought… simple. For me, there’s just one band, lol. And while Nickelback will top my list, I do have other favourites. In fact, I’m going to have to cut the list off. And be warned…pretty much EVERY ARTIST AND GROUP I LIKE, BRONWYN WILL HATE. Okay, hate is a strong word. Immensely dislike. How we’re friends… it truly is a mystery. (okay, because she’s awesome and I can overlook her loathing of my favourite bands)

So, without further distraction…my favourite musicians. I’ll do top ten with images, then a list of the ones that will never go out of style.

Nickelback — NO ONE IS SURPRISED.  And it’s not just because they’re Canadian, which they are, lol. It’s Chad’s voice. Their combined sound. The lyrics. Pretty much everything. Yup, could listen to these guys all day long. And yup, I often do.

 

Bare Naked Ladies  —  Love these guys. Knew them before they became famous, as they’re from Toronto. And I don’t even mind that they gave Stephen Paige the boot. I still love their sound and their hilarious lyrics. And another great Canadian group.

 

Sarah McLachlan  —  And keeping with the Canadian theme… damn I could probably just stick with my country, but I won’t as I have great love for other artists. But I love Sarah. The raspy voice, the wavering notes. The lyrics and very odd titles of her songs. Not much I don’t like about this talented singer.

Ed Sheeran  — Need I say anything to explain this? The man is so freaking talented. And super cute. But that accent. Those lyrics. AND HE PLAYS THE VIOLIN PEOPLE. THE VIOLIN. And he has tattoos. Le sigh.

 

Billy Joel  — Jenny would be happy he’s on my list. I’ve seen this amazing man in concert more than a few times, and he will forever be the Piano Man. He’s interesting to listen to talk, and his skill on the ivory keys know no bounds. Just an all round amazing performer.

 

 

 

 

Daughtry  — Love Chris Daughtry. The sound, the words. Not a huge American Idol fan, but this man has talent. Thinking it was probably good he didn’t win, lol. He’s been super successful and his last album was amazing. Not usually the case where I love every song on an album, but that’s pretty much the case with everything he puts out.

The Fray  —  Another band I think is under-rated. Though my son, Jared, says…you depressed? Then just put on a Fray song…it’ll make you even more so. LOL. But I love their raspy sound. The  lead singer is killer on the piano. These guys have a permanent spot on pretty much every playlist I have. (along with Nickelback, lol)

 

Imagine Dragons  —  A newish band but damn, they’ve quickly worked their way onto my favourite list. I have several of their songs on multiple playlist, and don’t turn the radio over if one of their songs comes on. Looking forward to see where this band goes.

Rascal Flats  — You all had to know there’d be some country in here. I am a country fan. And despite what has been said about these guys at the annual cabin retreat ( I remember vividly) they are one of my all-time faves. Their lyrics. Seriously. They paint these amazing images with only a few words on each line. And I do love their sound.

Keith Urban  —  Other than being incredibly sexy…guy has a great voice. Amazing words and then there’s the accent. He’s pretty much got it all.

Brad Paisley  —  I know, number 11, but damn. I love his sound.  And the man can play a guitar. He’s looks great in a cowboy hat and again, his songs tell amazing stories.

Faves that are more blasts from the past, but have to be mentioned…

Phil Collins, with or without Genesis.

The Eagles

Journey (yes, Bronwyn, I know you’re probably damn near dead by now. My entire list makes you gag, lol)

Foreigner

Styx

Queen

Damn, I could keep going. Like The Script, or Eminem, or Gavin Degraw. But I will stop here. Please check out the other ladies…I guarantee there won’t be a lot of crossover, lol. Okay… not sure anyone else will have Nickelback, unless Paige is up this week.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Jessica De La Rosa

Gwendolyn Cease  |  Kayleigh Jones

5 WORDS OR LESS

Yay. A week where I have to keep it short. Or, short for me. This month’s 5 words or less is about…my WIP, Characters, Setting and Conflict. So, here goes…

Ever-evolving

Familiar

Challenging

Epic

I’m thinking every week should be 5 words or less. Now check out the other ladies and see how they did.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa

Paige Prince  |  Kellie St James

IT’S THE PERFECT TIME OF YEAR…

It’s another Monday and another song flash fiction. And I’m sure everyone can guess who picked this month’s band. It’s PINCH ME by The Bare Naked Ladies. And can I just say~I love this band. LOVE. THEM. They were big back home in Toronto long before they made it big. And I love the attitude of the band members. Classy bunch of guys who are very down-to-earth.

Anyway, if you’re not familiar with the song, here’s the video. And I think the tune is freaking catchy.

 

“Do we have to listen to that song?”

Quinn glanced at Rogan, frowning. “Since when don’t you like the Bare Naked Ladies?”

Rogan shrugged. “Didn’t say I didn’t like them, bro. Just don’t want to listen to that damn song right now. It’s depressing.”

Quinn bit back the retort clawing to get free as he focused on the road again, barely sparing his buddy a glance as the man changed the channel, finally settling on some remixed version of a classic song. Now wasn’t the time to discuss the obvious elephant riding in the backseat. If Rogan wanted to pretend he still wasn’t torn up over his breakup with Dave—Dave the douchebag as Quinn called him—then Quinn would play along. It’s what friends did. Or at least, what he did. Because he knew if he opened his mouth, the truth would come spilling out. And he wasn’t sure if either of them were ready to hear what he had to say.

Restlessness churned in his gut, gnawing away at his sanity as they drove toward the trailhead. The first weekend free in months, and they’d somehow got roped into camping with friends. Not that Quinn didn’t love roughing it by the lake, spending the hours paddling or swimming. Talking around the campfire. But just the thought of spending forty-eight hours in the same tent as Rogan had Quinn’s damn stomach in knots. It was only a matter of time before his bravado failed, and Rogan saw the desperation Quinn knew gleamed in his eyes whenever they were together.

Hell, fuck together. Quinn was bloody desperate every minute of every godforsaken day it seemed. And pretending his heart wasn’t breaking a bit more from the strain of holding it all in was taking a toll. One he wasn’t sure he could keep paying. He’d nearly blown his damn cover the night Rogan had called him, voice thick with restrained tears, as he’d told him Dave was gone. That they’d finally split after Rogan had discovered the bastard had been cheating on him.

Fuckwit. Who the hell would cheat on a guy like Rogan? The man was six feet or sinewy muscle, the delineated lines more than evident through his clothing. He had thick brown hair that always seemed perfectly tousled, slightly longer than truly fashionable, but so utterly Rogan it made Quinn’s chest hurt. And the man’s eyes—a stunning mixture of green and hazel that appeared to change with his buddy’s mood. Like now—the dazzling jade far outweighed the amber accents, a testament to the man’s uneasy temper.

Add to that a wicked sense of humor and a genuine personality—Rogan had it all.

And Quinn was barely treading water.

“You okay?”

Quinn gave himself a mental shake, glancing at Rogan again. His buddy and furrowed his brow into an intense vee over his nose as he stared at Quinn as if he’d sprouted another head.

Quinn scoffed. “Of course, I’m fine. Why?”

Rogan shrugged. “You seem…preoccupied. Like when you’re hiding something and think I don’t notice.”

Quinn clenched his jaw. Fuck. If his damn defenses were already crumbling, how the hell was he going to get through an entire weekend rooming with the guy. He blew out his next breath then forced a smile. “You’re delusional. And if anyone’s hiding shit, it’s you.”

“Me?”

“Please. For the past month you’ve moped around the damn frat house, all the while insisting you’re ‘fine’. Everyone knows you’re not, Rog. Not sure who you think you’re fooling or what you have to prove. Breaking up sucks. No matter what the circumstances. No one’s going to judge you if you admit you feel like shit and wish your ex would suffer an extremely painful death in the near future.” He winked at Rogan. “I know I do.”

Rogan chuckled, pushing a hand through his hair, somehow making it sexier than it was before. “I don’t need for Dave to die. A painful injury, however…”

Quinn sighed. “I know you really liked the guy, but…he’s an ass. And blind as a fucking bat, because if he can’t see how damn amazing you are…”

He managed to catch himself and let the words fade before he’d admitted how much he cared. That somewhere between the late-night study sessions and early morning football practices, he’d fallen for Rogan. Not when they’d been friends for three years. And especially not when Quinn knew Rogan didn’t see him as anything other than one of his buddies—the sole-surviving member of the fucking friend zone.

Rogan snorted as he shook his head. “Afraid you’re the only one who seems to think that. My last few relationships haven’t exactly gone as hoped.”

That’s because you keep dating douchebags.

Quinn groaned inwardly, somehow managing not to let the words rumble free. If there was one thing Quinn had learned about Rogan since they’d met their first year of college, it’s that the man had a type. Muscular, confident, with a healthy dose of arrogant charm seemed to knock Rogan’s usually good senses for a loop. While the man’s previous conquests had been hot on every damn level, they’d also been conceded jerks who hadn’t been interested in much past a few tumble between the sheets. And Rogan, being the guy he was, couldn’t seem to see the end coming until it slapped him in the face—usually in the form of finding his boyfriend in bed with another guy.

Quinn blew out a slow breath, glancing at Rogan again before taking the next exit ramp. Just another fifteen minutes and they’d be at the parking lot. And Quinn’s forty-eight hours of fucking torture would begin.

He gave Rogan another forced smile. “My sister keeps insisting all men are jerks. Maybe she’s right.”

Rogan shrugged. “You’re not.”

Quinn’s stomach fucking flip-flopped at the deep, sexy done in Rogan’s voice. He slowed as they turned onto the gravel road leading to the trailhead. “Yeah, and it’s worked out so well for me.”

“Hey, I’ve seen plenty of guys strike out with you. Thinking you’re the one who doesn’t want to commit.”

Oh, he wanted to commit, all right. Commit himself to a damn psych ward for thinking he could spend a weekend with the one man he couldn’t have. “Maybe I’m just looking for someone who wants more than a round of sex.”

“Or maybe you’re hung up on someone and don’t want to admit it.”

Quinn coughed, skidding around the next corner, nearly driving off the damn road before getting himself and the Jeep under control.

Rogan gave Quinn a light punch in the shoulder. “You don’t have to kill us because I’m right.”

“You’re not right. You’re a distraction.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, buddy. But I know I’m right. You’re pining. You’ve got all signs—you don’t do anything more than first dates. You have a laundry list of excuses on speed dial should a prospective lover ask you out and you submerse yourself in work and school. Face it. You’re hooked on some guy you think you can’t have. You just don’t want to tell me who.”

Quinn stared straight ahead. “You think you got me all figured out, huh?”

“Please, you’re not that hard to read.”

Except for the part where the jackass I can’t have is you.

Quinn snorted. “Well, neither are you, Rog. And as long as we’re being honest—maybe your love life wouldn’t suck so much if you tried dating a guy that wanted you for more than just your ass.” He slowed the vehicle to a halt beside a handful of other cars, shoving it into first gear before cutting the engine. He turned to Rogan, noting the wary look in his friend’s eyes. “What?”

“God, I’m right, aren’t I? You really are hung up on some guy. Shit, I was just guessing, but… You’ve got it bad.”

“Yeah, well, luckily for me, he doesn’t know I exist.”

He opened his door and stepped out. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as the heady scent of pine infused the air. He grabbed his backpack out of the rear seat, shuffling it onto his shoulders as he looked across at Rogan. “Are we going to do this or what?”

Rogan eased out of his seat, snagging his bag and tossing it across his back. “You should tell the guy. At least then you’d know how he felt.”

Quinn met Rogan’s expectant gaze. “And if he doesn’t feel the same? If it blows up in my face, then what?”

“Why would that matter unless…” Rogan’s voice trailed off as his brow furrowed again.

Quinn mumbled a curse, turning toward the path before Rogan saw the truth on his face. This was quickly becoming a fucking disaster. Like being stuck in a damn dream he couldn’t wake up from. He pinched his arm, the slight pain a sad reminder it was all too real. He pocketed the keys, taking a few heavy steps away. “You coming?”

“Quinn?”

Quinn glanced back at Rogan. “Got a couple of miles to go before we reach the campsite. Don’t want to waste the sunlight.”

Rogan moved around to Quinn’s side of the car, stopping far too close. “Fuck the sunlight. There something you need to tell me?”

Panic beaded a cold sweat along Quinn’s skin as he tried to hold himself together. Now wasn’t the time. Fuck, there’d never be a time. Not for this. He wasn’t close to Rogan’s type. Hadn’t gotten so much as a hint that the other man had any kind of feelings for him other than friendship. And admitting how he felt…he’d screw everything they had up. And for what? A chance he never had?

He quirked his mouth. “Yeah, your shoelace is undone. Now, are you coming or what?”

Quinn struck off, getting to the tree line before Rogan’s hand tightened around Quinn’s arm, spinning him around. He stumbled sideways, tripping into a tree before Rogan yanked him forward. Quinn collided with Rogan’s chest, his hands instinctively fisting around the other man’s shirt in an attempt to anchor himself just as Rogan trapped him against the trunk, his body pressed hard against his. An emotion Quinn hadn’t seen before flared in Rogan’s eyes as he leaned in close, his breath ruffling Quinn’s collar.

Rogan arched a brow, his gaze dropping the length of Quinn’s body then up again, focusing on his mouth before finally climbing to his eyes. “Let’s try this again. Who, exactly, are you hung up on?”

 

And that’s it for me, folks. Check out the other ladies for their brilliant works.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Paige Prince

 

 

I’M LOSING CONTROL…

Dear god, where is the time going. Seriously, I have so much to do. So freaking little time. I need nine days a week now, and thirty hours in a day. But I digress. It’s another Random Wednesday, and for me, this is going to be a short post. Why? Because I’m stressed and poetically, the topic this week is… How I Relax When I’m Stressed.

Well, I’ll tell you folks for free that it’s not by doing blog posts, lol. True, they can be cathartic at times. But right now, I just need more time. Also, there’s only a handful of things I do to relax.

So… here goes.

Exercise.

NO ONE IS SURPRISED. NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON. And no one’s shocked that it’s my number one way to battle stress. My friends know that I consistently call running my “attitude adjustment’. And it’s true. There’s something about the sound of your feet hitting the dirt. The smell of cottonwood and pine. The chirping of birds or even the buzzing of flies. The way the sun plays peek-a-boo through the foliage. Or simply just being alone with the dog. No other voices. No way for folks to interrupt me. (FYI. I have specific text tones so I know which ones I might want to look at while I’m out there.) Just me, the trail and my thoughts. And trust me—it’s hard to still be angry when you get back an hour later. Not sure if it’s the sweat, or the rapid heart rate. The increase in oxygen or just the passing scenery still playing in your head. But it works.  And it’s not just running. Riding or doing a BeachBody video works just as well. I just need something to draw me in. To focus on. And generally breathing and trying not to die (lol) do the trick.

Music.

Let’s face it. It’s not always convenient to go for a jog. Or pop in a workout video. Hell, maybe it’s at night and I’m already exercised out, lol. Or it’s pouring rain…sideways with strong winds. Or there’s snow. I know… that white shit. Anyway, if my usual go-to isn’t an option, then music can alter my mood. Or even allow me to wallow in it if that’s what I need. I love this song quote… you sing a sad song just to turn it around… So true. And music, like books, can take you places, so… it’s definitely a way to get rid of the stress.

Television/Movies.

Again. NO ONE IS SURPRISED. Please, I am NOT the only one who Netflix binges. Whether it be Supernatural, Archer, South Park, Castle…name it and I probably watch several episodes in a row. Hell, sometimes a whole damn season if it’s short enough. But yeah…getting lost in endless shows is one of my faves.

Alex, I’d like to… Call a Friend.

Sometimes, there’s no other choice but to bitch. Vent. Whatever. This is where your dearest of dear friends comes in. You know the one or ones. Who don’t judge. Who know when to simply nod or when to offer something. Encouragement. The proper expletive. An adjective or two. But it’s funny how talking it out can often make you realize it’s not as bad as you think. That there’s a hint of a light at the end of the tunnel…and no, it’s not the 508 heading for New York.

If I were in a relationship, the next one might very well be sex. And yeah, nothing takes your mind off of everything else quite like it. I hope to add this to the list as a viable option in the near future, lol. And please, you were all thinking it. You just didn’t want to be the one to put it down in writing.

And finally…if it’s a really tough day. If I’m at my rope… a good cry might be in order. And I’m sure no one is shocked when I say this is a last resort. I’m not a fan of crying. Work with me folks. I have issues. But there are times, this is the only ‘release’ that works. So yup… a good cry. Generally in the guise of a super sappy, depressing movie. But a cry none the less.

 

That’s it for me. Go check out the other ladies. See how they deal with the big S (not sex, lol).

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green

Jessica De La Rosa  |  Kellie St. James  |  Gwendolyn Cease

TO BE OR NOT TO BE…

Random Wednesday folks. Welcome. And it’s the first one in June. Wow…last month of school (we go way too long here) then it’s summer vacation. Hell, it’s already dollar drink days at McDonalds. That’s the first sign summer is here. Not a huge McD’s fan, but I’ll go through the drive-thru for a large Diet Coke for a buck. Everyone needs a vice. Don’t judge. Just enable.

Anyway, a twist to the monthly “favourite things” post as in it’s a bit more abstract to me. It’s favourite quotes. Now, I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be ones you consider famous or what, but I’m taking it as ones I use. As in all the freaking time.

Here’s the thing. I’m not sure why, but my brother and I began citing movie quotes way back. We’d test each other when the opportunity arose. Use a quote then see if the other knew what movie it was from. So…spoiler alert…all my fave quotes are going to be movie/entertainment ones. And for better or worse, I use them. Lots.

Movie one liners (my version of quotes) in no particular order but limited because I could do this all day…

My only wish is to serve the gods.

It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.

These are not the droids you’re looking for.

I am the greatest good, you are ever gonna get.

Fuck, fuckity, fuck fuck fuck.

The next time someone asks if you’re a god, you say yes.

Convicted? No, never convicted.

Get to the chopper.

Stick around.

I’ll be back.

May the force be with you.

And, we’re walking.

Eysma, put your hands in the air.

Who’d had thought that trap door would lead me out here.

Yeah, I’m a lama again.

Luke, I am your father.

You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

Sometimes you gotta say, what the fuck.

I promise you. I’m never going to want that wagon wheel coffee table.

 

Now go and check out the other ladies. They probably have much more profound quotes than me. LOL. But no one is surprised. No. One.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Gwendolyn Cease

 Kayleigh Jones  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Kellie St. James

PICTURE FLASH FICTION ~ JUNE

How is it June already? Usually I’m counting the days until summer vacation. This year…it’s flying by. So much to do. So much happening. And the first of the month means it’s another — A picture’s worth a 1000 words flash fiction post. This month, it’s an interesting photo. Where on earth do I go with a paper heart? Well, here goes. Might be another cop out month, lol. (that’s my way of saying I use it more as a prop that the characters have, lol.) And yup, it’s official. This month’s story… felt nothing folks. Zip. Zero. Nada. The big enchilada. Buttkiss. NOTHING. So I went back to Graeme and Ryan from January. I tried, people. I tried.

06-2015 - PaperHeart

 

“Bloody time you got here. I fucking called you damn near an hour ago.”

Graeme James ran his fingers through his hair, doing his best not to yank Ryan inside by his damn shirt. Despite the fact his buddy always seemed to pull his ass out of the fire, Graeme wasn’t sure there was any escape this time.

Ryan cocked his eyebrow. “Bro. You need to relax. Seriously.” He pointed to Graeme’s head. “Your muscle’s popping out of your damn temple.”

“Relax? Bailey’s going to kill me, let alone walk out the damn door.”

Finally, the man walked into the foyer, chuckling as he went.

Graeme dragged in a deep breath and held it before slowly pushing it out. “Not sure why you think me losing Bailey is funny, but—”

“What’s funny is that you think anything you did here is going to drive Bailey away. She’s so in love with you, you could burn the damn house down and she’d sit beside you roasting marshmallows.”

Graeme frowned. “It’s not the house I’m concerned about.”

Ryan grinned, but it faded. He stepped closer, snagging Graeme’s arm. “Graeme? Bro, you okay? I was just joking…”

Graeme clenched his jaw. Shit just thinking about what had happened…what he’d done…

Ryan snapped his fingers in front of Graeme’s face. “Hey! You’re starting to actually scare me. What the fuck’s wrong?”

Bile burned Graeme’s gut. God, where did he even start? He exhaled, motioning to the adjoining hallway. Ryan furrowed his brow, following Graeme through the main floor.

Ryan whistled as he walked through the rooms. “Wow. This is some place. Going to be quite the catch once you two finish renovating it. In about ten years. But it’s got good bones. That’s really all that matters.” He nudged Graeme. “Is that what this is about? You two fight over what kind of flooring to put down? Is she having second thoughts about moving in when you haven’t…” He waved between them. “Made a firmer commitment?”

“No. We didn’t fight, and we already moved all her shit in last week. You know that.”

“Then why do you look like someone just ran over your dog?”

“Because when she finds out what the fuck happened…” He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t think about his future without her in it. Not after finally realizing she was more than just a girl he’d fallen in love with. She was his girl.

He stumbled over toward the fireplace, practically falling into one of the chairs placed in front. The legs creaked, the old wood giving slightly against his weight. Maybe she really would just kill him, and he wouldn’t have to worry about living without her.

Ryan padded across the floor, stopping in front of him. “Did you sleep with someone else?”

“What? God, no! Why would I sleep with another woman when I have Bailey in my bed? Fuck. I’m not stupid or blind.” Graeme shook his head. “I’d never hurt her like that. Shit, I barely realize there are other women. I’m the one who’s lovesick to the point of it being obnoxious. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

“Did you kill someone? Are you going to jail?” Ryan kicked at Graeme’s feet. “Did you finally punch her douche of a brother in the face?”

Graeme merely glared at his friend. This wasn’t funny.

Ryan sighed. “If it’s none of those, I’m pretty damn sure it can be fixed.”

“That’s because you’re a guy. We always think things can be fixed. But girls… Damn, they don’t think like us. It’s all about feelings and deciphering what they really want.”

“Just tell me. We’ll go from there.”

Graeme bowed his head, pointing at the fireplace. “That. That’s what I did, God…”

Ryan moved over to the wall, crouching in front of the smooth stone mantle. He grabbed a poker then shifted through the ashes in the bottom. “You lit a fire without her?”

“No, jackass. It’s what I put in the fire. By accident. It got caught up with some old drawings I was getting rid of. Shit, I didn’t even realize it was in there until it was too late.”

Ryan glanced at him over his shoulder. “You do know I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, right? What did you burn that’s going to have Bailey packing her bags?”

“Her thesis.”

Ryan coughed. “Her…thesis?”

Graeme could only nod before cradling his head in his hands.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Okay. So you ruined some papers. She’d already been graded, though, right? I mean, essentially, she doesn’t really need it anymore.”

“You do know how long she worked on that! I’d promised to frame the last page. She was going to put in her office.”

“It’s shitty, but…bro. She won’t leave you over that.”

“It’s worse.” He shook his head. “It was the last thing her mother saw before she died last month. She even wrote Bailey a message on it…telling her how proud she was. How she’d always known her little girl would go places. And I fucking burnt it.”

“By accident, Graeme. These things happen.”

“No. They don’t. Not if you’re careful. Considerate. But, Christ, between work, the renovations…I’m so tired I didn’t stop to check what was on the desk just grabbed all the papers and tossed them in.”

Ryan shuffled over to him. “Maybe we can salvage something. Did you check?”

“First thing I did.” He held up a small chunk of paper. “This is all that’s left.”

Footsteps sounded behind them before a voice wavered through the room. “What’s all that’s left?”

Graeme’s breath hitched as he twisted toward the doorway. Bailey stood in the threshold, bag slung over one shoulder, her pretty face watching him. She’d taken her hair out of the fancy braid she’d had it in when she’d left, the thick auburn tresses cascading over her shoulders and down her back. It must have started raining, drops of water still clinging to her gray jacket.

She moved toward them, stopping a few feet away as her gaze swung between them. The easy smile she’d had slowly faded as her focus dropped to the tattered offering in his hand. “Babe? Everything okay? You look…upset.”

Graeme pushed out of the chair, closing the scant distance as he took her in his arms, holding her close. The sweet scent of her perfume mixed with the fresh aroma of the rain, the combination making his head spin. She’d always felt so right in his arms, and he’d never questioned that she belonged there.

He buried his face against the side of her head, breathing her in until she pushed at him, forcing him back. His gaze fell to hers, the hint of fear in her eyes impossible to miss.

She ran her thumb along his jaw, brow pulled into a vee. “Graeme? What’s wrong? Why is Ryan poking around in the ashes?”

Graeme swallowed past the lump in his throat, certain he’d gag at any second. “Because he’s my best friend and he’s trying to help.”

“Help with what?” She raised his chin when he tried to look down. “Babe. Just talk to me.”

He firmed his jaw, not quite sure what to say when Ryan moved over to them.

“He burned your thesis.” Ryan held up his hands. “By accident. It got caught up with some other papers, and he called me because he doesn’t want to lose you.”

Some of the color drained from her face as she took a step back, her attention shifting from them over to the fireplace and back. “You burned my thesis?”

Graeme stepped forward. “I know. But I swear…I didn’t mean to. It’s like Ryan said. It was an accident and…” He sighed. “And…it doesn’t matter because it’s irreplaceable. I know that. I lost that message from your mom. Your handwritten words of recommendation. Everything.” He held out his palm. “This was all that I could save. But the words are just indiscernible lines, now.” He toed at the floor. “I’m so sorry. If you want me to leave…”

Bailey looked down, worrying her bottom lip as she took the small piece of paper out of his hand. Shit, it wasn’t anything remotely important. Not even a single word on the scrap. Just a charred chunk of her treasured masterpiece. She studied it, glancing at Ryan before finally meeting his gaze.

Her face seemed void of any emotion until a small grin lifted the corner of her mouth. It flourished into a stunning smile as she shook her head. “Did you really think I’d end everything we have over this?”

Confusion swam through his brain, making his vision dim slightly. “But…it meant the world to you. It was a connection to your mom—all that hard work…”

She sighed. “Men. Yes, in a perfect world, I would have framed the important pages of it. Kept the rest as a reminder of what I did to get where I am. As a symbol of my mom, but… Jesus, Graeme. You’re my future. My life. This is the past. And my mom’s memory is more than some words scribbled on a page.” She tapped her chest. “She’s here. All those times she picked me up from school, or kissed a scraped knee. How she used to check under the bed for monsters, or find a way to get me that special dress I wanted, even though my dad had said no.” She inched forward. “The kiss she gave me the last time I saw her.”

“But…” He stared at her. Fuck if he knew what to say.

“Besides, you saved the best part.”

“Best part? Sweetheart, I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s just a charred piece of paper. It doesn’t even have any words on it.”

“It’s not what it says, it’s how it’s shaped.” She held it up. “I’d say it’s perfect. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed that it’s a heart.”

He looked at it. “Um…”

She laughed, placing the item back in his hand. “I can put this in with my certificate. As a keepsake. Now, how about we order pizza? I assume Ryan’s staying.”

Graeme gaped after her as she pulled out her phone, turning away once it’d connected. She rattled off an order, smiling back at him. He turned to Ryan, but his buddy merely shrugged.  Graeme stared down at the paper then smiled. Yup, he’d never quite understand women, but damn if he was going to question it.

 

That’s the best I got. Just didn’t feel this month, but…college try and all that. Now check out the other lovely ladies and their amazing interpretation of the photo.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa

Kellie St. James  |  Kayleigh Jones

 

 

RED sky dawning ~ Chapter 4

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Hi folks.

First off, my apologies. I’ve been swamped and wasn’t able to get Chapter 4 posted when I should. But, hopefully it’s still better late than never. And look at it this way, if things go as planned, you only have to wait another week to read Chapter 5 instead of two! Silver lining.

Okay, here it is. Don’t forget to click on the link below to read Jessica Jarman’s next awesome chapter in her amazing NA story… YOUR LIES. And it is an freaking amazing chapter to this incredible book. You can just click on the banner at the end of the post. And if you’re new and want to read the previous chapters… here you go…

Red Sky Dawning from the beginning…

Chapter Four

“Stay close.”

Rylan eyed the woman in front of him, her voice curling around him—sending a shiver along his spine. Aelwyn gave him an odd look then darted down the path, her body fading in and out of view amidst the gathering shadows. She didn’t seem overly concerned about breaking more wards, or whether she’d be unable to accomplish the task. A fact he found both compelling and unnerving.

A princess.

He hadn’t seen that coming. Had assumed she’d developed a one-sided love for the heir to the throne. The fact Aelrik was her brother… It made her quest more noble. Harder to simply push aside as yet another one of Cane’s tricks. It was obvious she was desperate enough to pay any price to secure her brother’s safe return. He just wondered if she truly understood what she was getting herself into. If she was telling the truth—if Cane had sided with Merek to destroy the two kingdoms—they’d have both armies hunting them. Which made her quest—nobel or not—seemingly impossible.

Aelwyn took another path, weaving them deeper into the dark forest before stopping at a large wall. Ivy and moss covered most of it, with only hints of gray brick between the green foliage. She moved along the border, not even giving him a second glance, her footsteps hushed against the lush grass.

Rylan shook his head. He’d meant what he’d said. She shouldn’t blindly trust him just because they’d inscribed their names on a magical parchment. They were still enemies, and his cooperation lasted only as long as it served his purpose. Which could easily terminate once they’d cleared the castle grounds. After all, spells often reversed once the caster died. Killing her could set his magic free. Unbind him from their agreement.

Aelwyn stopped again. He glanced at the wall. It looked disturbingly similar to the rest of the brick, though there was a slight charge in the air. A hint of power.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “This is it.”

He snorted. “It looks the same to me, sweetness. Just more ivy and brick.”

“It’s just an illusion. To hide the gate from anyone who doesn’t already know its location.”

“If it’s been hidden, how did you discover it?”

A strange expression crossed her face, and he got the distinct feeling she was, once again, deciding how much to share with him.

“I can sense the barrier, and it reeks of Cane.” She hissed out her next breath. “It’s only a matter of time before every realm bears his mark. Like a disease that infects everything it touches. He must be stopped.”

Rylan snagged her shoulder. “How is it you can sense this barrier, yet all I feel is a mild disturbance? One I’d most likely overlook.”

“Does it matter?”

“What are you hiding from me?”

Her lips quirked. “Who says I’m hiding anything?”

“Call it intuition. And the fact you’d be a fool not to.” He moved closer, once again crowding her. “I’ll ask you again. What are you?”

Fear flashed in her eyes before she physically drew herself up. “A mage, like you.”

“Oh, sweetness. You’re nothing like me.” He cocked his head to the side. “Can you control fire, as well?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I’ve never seen anyone wield more than one element. Yet, you’ve demonstrated control over two. Makes me wonder if you can harness all four. What about water?”

She broke eye contact for a moment before glancing back at him. “Didn’t you just say I’d be a fool not to withhold information from you?” She turned back to the wall at his arched brow. “We can discuss my abilities later. I’d rather not get caught before we’ve even left the castle grounds. You may want to stand behind me. In case the ward lashes out unexpectedly.”

Rylan moved in behind her, still unnecessarily close. But after her display in the chamber, he wanted a better look at her power. See if he could unravel her secrets. And she had them. More than her fair share if his gut was right.

Aelwyn held up her hands, pressing them as if she’d encountered something solid. A flare of golden light shot from her palms, running lengthwise across the air. Red sparks crackled in response, the eerie glow illuminating thick strands woven into some kind of barrier.

Rylan leaned in closer, his mouth caressing her neck. “You saw that? Before your magic bounced off the surface? How?”

She trembled slightly, a rough breath rasping free. “It’s hard to explain. But you could, too, if you knew what to look for. You just have to be willing to learn. To see the world from a different perspective. The way I do.”

He eased back, wondering if she was actually offering to teach him. “Who taught you?”

“No one.”

He huffed. “You’re unique. I’ll grant you that much. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but…if you break that ward, Cane will know.”

“I’m not going to break it.”

“Then how are we getting through?”

Her smile sent a rush of heat spiraling through his core, and his magic surged in response. It prickled just below his skin, giving it a red hue. He wasn’t sure if it his response to her was the result of his entombment or something else—something more primal, more dangerous—but he needed to get his power under control. She may have curtailed him from using his fire against her, but he still needed to be able to wield it with some form of precision.

He chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hadn’t achieved more than a modicum of control before he’d ventured into Aldhaven. No reason to think nearly a century of sleep had improved his accuracy any.

Aelwyn tilted her head, looking at him as if she could read his mind before nodding at the barrier. “Think of it as creating a hole. But I’ll use my magic to bridge the strands so Cane won’t know unless he actually checks his ward. He’ll recognize my marker, but we should be long gone by then.” She turned back around. “I can’t keep it open for that long, so once it’s ready, we’ll have to move quickly.”

“Pretty sure I can keep up with you…Princess.”

She whipped her head around. “Must you call me that?”

“Are you not Princess Aelwyn of Aldhaven. Daughter to King Aern and sister to the heir to the throne, Prince Aelrik?”

“You know I am, but…” She sighed, once again returning to her work.

He brushed his chest against her back, noting her sharp inhalation. “Why does it bother you so?”

“Because it’s a reminder of everything I’m not. All I’ve endured since my birth, all because I’m a…” Her voice sounded thick, as if she’d had to force the words out. She exhaled, seemingly calming herself. “Call me whatever you want. I’m sure my abhorrence to the term only fuels your desire to keep using it.”

He grinned, but it felt unnatural. Despite the anger burning as hot as his fire beneath his skin, he found the thought of intentionally hurting her unappealing. As if his magic revolted, wanting nothing more than to protect her. Shield her from the obvious pain she’d suffer from her own people.

Rylan cursed under his breath. He needed to be prepared for anything. Just because she’d helped him escape—had sworn she needed his help—didn’t mean any of this real. Until they were on the road toward Ravendale, he had to assume everyone he met wanted him dead.

Aelwyn sighed. “You’re not the only one Cane wants dead. Now stop distracting me.”

He frowned. Had he spoken the thoughts aloud and not realized it? Uncertainty churned his gut as her magic sprung to life, casting a warm, golden glow over their patch of forest. The light illuminated the branches, creating a patchwork of shadows across the dirt and grass. Aelwyn stared at the barrier, not that Rylan could tell what she was looking at. It all appeared the same to him.

She moved her fingers along the surface, ignoring the flashes of crimson fire that seemed to lash out at her touch before she settled on an area. Her energy increased, growing so bright he had to shield his eyes against the glare. Her threads hissed as they collided with Cane’s, sending spurts of ash into the air. She kept working, doing something with her hands as the air grew heavy around them, closing in as it had in the chamber. He tensed, ready to strike back, when the barrier shimmered, a single finger of gold light reflecting off it.

Aelwyn glanced at him. “As soon as it opens, go through. I’ll follow behind you.”

“Shouldn’t you go first? I could attack you as you try to pass through.”

“I can’t hold it open from the other side. If you don’t go first, you’ll be stuck here. And I doubt your attack would end the way you envision.”

“So you keep claiming.” He moved to her side, gasping when she appeared to grip the edges of the ward and ease them apart, creating a hole in the energy’s fabric. “How are you doing that?”

“I can’t keep it open for long or Cane will know. That, or I’ll end up breaking the spell completely. Jump through.”

Rylan scanned the area beyond the rift then vaulted through it, stumbling a few steps on the other side before hitting a metal gate. He braced his hand on the rungs, catching Aelwyn when she landed beside him, tripping toward the wall. He gathered her against his chest, her labored breathing loud in the stillness. She sagged in his arms, flickers of her magic skittering along her skin. It danced up his arms, drawing out a hint of his power. The colors swirled together, bleeding into a warm orange before slowly fading.

He stared at the lingering hue. His magic had never reacted like that—seemingly blending with another’s. Even now, he felt a ghosted surge of her power within him, as if his magic had carried it inside.

Aelwyn groaned, her head falling against his chest as she seemed to linger on the edge of consciousness. Her gentle weight clenched her heart. He really could snap her with little effort, her frame incredibly small next to his. She groaned again, the sound laced with pain. He brushed back her hair from her face. Dark lashes rested against pale skin. Despite what he’d said about no man ever wanting her, she was stunning. More so than he’d first realized. The easy symmetry of her face, the soft, pale gleam of her skin—it made him want to dip down and taste the fullness of her lips. See if they were as sweet as he imagined.

“Dark hells.”

He muttered the words a few more times, scooping her up before turning toward the gate. A series of locks secured the doorway, the silver metal caked with rust. He grinned. A concentrated surge of his fire and the metal would snap in two. He glanced at Aelwyn. He’d have to put her down. Use only a fraction of his strength to ensure he didn’t lose control—burn her and everything within the forest. Aelwyn murmured something he couldn’t make out as he propped her against the wall. Her head lolled to one side, a grimace shaping her mouth.

He brushed his thumb along her jaw, cursing the need that coursed through him—demanded he do anything within his power to ease her obvious pain—before pulling back. She was the enemy. He’d be wise to remember that.

He faced the gate, allowing his magic to breathe through him. Heat poured off his skin as tiny flames arced along his flesh. He concentrated on the gate, channeling the power pulsing within him before releasing it as a finger of red light at the locks. His magic hissed as it connected with the shiny surface, shooting outwards—coloring the small space with a crimson glow. The metal creaked, shaking under the assault before snapping apart. The pieces shot out, hitting the brick before angling into the dirt.

Rylan fisted his hands, attempting to draw his energy back. It spiked upwards, lighting up the sky before curling in on itself. Flames danced along his skin, the steady pulse of the fire falling in line with his heartbeat. He savored the feel of it. How it swirled beneath his flesh, heightened his awareness. He glanced at the barrier. Tendrils of Cane’s magic waved in the breeze, the tattered threads slowly winking out. He sensed its presence, now. The dark energy that stained the air. Though how Aelwyn had felt it before using her magic mystified him.

He dragged in a few labored breaths, hands clenched tight as he calmed the incessant strum of his power. He glanced at Aelwyn. She hadn’t moved, her head still cocked to one side, eyes closed. He stepped over to her, gathering her in his arms. His magic flared, rising to the surface again in a show of red light. Hers answered in kind, covering her flesh in a soft, yellow glow. Tiny wisps twirled through his, turning that same orange he’d witnessed more than once today. Warmth seeped into his skin, easing his power until it settled.

He stared at her. Hadn’t he felt a similar sensation when he’d first awoken? After trying to use his magic against Bearn? Questions tumbled through his head as he opened the gate and crossed into the forest beyond, swinging the metal structure closed behind him. The hinges screeched in protest as the old rungs scraped on the rock, shutting out the castle grounds behind him.

Aelwyn roused slightly, blinking a few times before fading again. He scanned the woods. This was his chance. He could leave her here—make his own way back to Ravendale. Even with the spell, she’d said he could defend himself. Though he’d never be able to use his power against Aldhaven. He had not doubt she could ensure that. Not after everything he’d seen.

He closed his eyes. While he didn’t owe her anything, let alone his loyalty, he couldn’t quite quiet the feeling that what she’d told him was the truth. That Cane would use Ravendale to get to other realms. Decimate the very home he’d tried to protect by coming to this wretched kingdom nearly a century ago. And he’d gladly rot in a cell another hundred years if it meant exposing Cane and securing peace.

Peace.

An ancient concept Rylan wasn’t sure existed any more. Aelwyn had been right. Enough blood already stained the earth between their two realms. He had no desire to see more shed in the name of conquest and power.

He pushed out a slow breath. He’d follow her for now, if for no other reason than to garnish more information about Aldhaven and its defenses. That’s if she didn’t lead him into a trap with Cane and a legion of the man’s warriors.

He juggled her closer as he continued north, winding through the expanse of trees and leafy foliage, heading toward what he assumed was the foothills she’d mentioned. Wisps of smoke rose off in the distance, the smell of fire heavy in the air. He’d forgotten how cold Aldhaven got at night, the full heat of the growing months not yet upon them. Soon, the cool breeze would be a welcomed respite from the relentless heat as the sun basked the landscape. If the temperatures didn’t rise soon, they’d have to chance the odd fire to stay warm.

Aelwyn groaned, finally opening her eyelids enough to look up at him. He hadn’t realized how green her eyes were—like the leaves rustling in the branches surrounding them. Staring at him, her head resting against his chest, she didn’t seem nearly as powerful as she had in the chamber. Skin glowing as she’d held him suspended above the ground from her magic alone. He still didn’t know how she manipulated more than one element, though he had a feeling it wasn’t a secret she’d share anytime soon.

She blinked, glancing around before gasping. She stiffened in his arms, her skin already starting to glow. “What happened?”

Rylan stopped but didn’t place her on her feet. “You passed out.”

She frowned. “I never pass out.”

“I see. Then you fell asleep extremely quickly.”

Aelwyn held his gaze, finally relaxing a bit as she surveyed the forest. “We’re free of the castle? How did you open the gate? Cane had it secured with several locks?”

“Thankfully, you didn’t deem the metal off limits from my magic.”

“You used your magic?” She murmured under her breath again. “How much power did you use?”

“Just enough to free us. I’m not careless, nor am I blind to our…situation. But there wasn’t any other way to open the gate.”

“You should have woken me.”

He chuckled as he started walking again. She was too light. Too fragile in his arms despite her obvious determination. And if she wasn’t careful—didn’t start metering how much energy she expended with her magic—she’d get herself killed before they’d left the meager town behind.

She snorted. “Not sure why you find that funny.”

“Because I shattered the locks, picked you up and walked nearly a mile before you roused. Yet you seem to think simply shaking your shoulder would have solved the issue.”

“Cane will sense your power. He’ll know I awakened you. That we’re going after Aelrik.”

“Something tells me he’d have known that by morning, anyway. I doubt your captain and master’s absence will go…unnoticed. And despite Cane’s resources, he’ll have a hard time following us at night.”

She glanced away, more of those odd wisps curling along her skin. “I can walk, now.”

“You’re weak.” He ignored her huff of protest. “I may have been entombed for nearly a century, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how draining it is to wield magic. And the way you’ve been tossing yours around—”

“I’ve done what needed to be done. My health pales in comparison to getting Aelrik back. Stopping Cane before neither of us have a kingdom to call home.” She sighed, allowing her head to rest against his chest. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to escape. Venture back to Ravendale regardless of what I’d told you.”

“I considered it. But on the off-chance you’re right…”

“I have no reason to lie to you, Rylan.”

“Other than the fact you’re the daughter of my father’s enemy.”

The strength seemed to drain from her body at his words. “Aye. I am.”

Her voice held a sad quality to it that made his chest tighten, his magic heat in protest. His fire surged to the surface again, bathing his skin in a deep red. He stopped. If he didn’t get his damn power under control, he’d burn her. Aelwyn tensed, her gaze meeting his before she placed one small palm on his chest. A soft, golden glow covered her hand, slowly enveloping part of his skin. Soothing cool seeped through his veins, reining in his magic until it settled beneath the surface—contained but ready.

Rylan placed his hand over hers. “Who are you?”

“I told you. I’m very much like you.”

“You’re no mage.”

“No. But people consider me a monster, as well.” She nodded toward the path. “Thank you for helping me, but I think I’ve rested enough. I can walk from here.”

He stared at her, ghosted memories gnawing at his consciousness, before he gently set her on her feet. He maintained his hold on her when she went to move away, his focus clashing with hers. “You can’t hide the truth from me forever, Aelwyn.”

“I don’t need forever. Though you should be careful what you wish for. The truth could be worse than you’re prepared to hear.”

She struck off, swaying more than she should as she stubbornly headed down the path. He touched his chest, remnants of her magic still cooling his skin. More questions tumbled through his head, but he let them fade. He’d get his answers, of that he had no doubt. He just wasn’t sure if he really wanted to hear them.

 

And that’s it for this week. Here’s Jess’ banner to take you to her site. Don’t forget to leave a comment!

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A week captured in pictures…

Random time again, and this is one of the wordless Wednesday posts. Which of course means there’ll be less words. Never none. Hello. We’ve already established that I have a bit of trouble ‘shutting up’. I know. Shocking to all.

So this month it’s a week captured in pictures. One image a day for seven days. Now, don’t fall over, but I even have a picture of me. I know, I know. Now, I already put it up on FaceBook, but damn, I almost never post pictures of myself, so don’t fall over from the shock.

Saturday

Sunday

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Monday

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Tuesday

Wednesday

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Thursday

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Friday

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I’m assuming we aren’t supposed to chat about the images. So let your imagination run wild. Hint, we happened to go to the movies this week. Twice, lol. Now check out the other ladies and see what a week in their life is like in pictures.

Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica Jarman  |  Kellie St. James

Jessica De La Rosa  | Gwendolyn Cease

Damn it Jim, I’m a doctor not a writer…

I’m hoping I’m not the only one who can still here McCoy’s voice. Who doesn’t still recite those words of wisdom, though it’s usually, I’m a doctor not a bricklayer, lol. God, those were the days. Anyway, this week’s topic is…the hardest thing I’ve ever written.

You know, every week, I keep thinking, this one will be easy. Finally, I’ll have a post I can just pound out and not have to fret over. This is not that week. Oh, nay, nay. Because it’s a trick question. The truth is—the current book I’m writing is ALWAYS THE HARDEST THING I’VE WRITTEN.

Though I suppose they might mean emotionally? Technically? Or did I have a broken finger and damn it was just so hard to type? I’m not really sure. I know for a few of my pals…it’s either a genre they never imagined writing (or were told they couldn’t. Oh, how some negative folks have had to eat those words) or a story that’s so dear to them, so emotionally draining, that it’s torn from within, rather than scattered on the page. Me?

I’m not sure I have a real answer for this. Or maybe I have two.

My first answer would be—the first book I ever wrote. Mostly because it took forever and has seen more revisions than a certain pop star’s nose. There’s just something inherently intimidating about your first novel. It’s like pouring your soul onto the page. And it’s hard when you finally finish it and realize that it’s still a long way from being truly finished. Putting it out there, waiting to see what others think of it…it’s a near impossible feat. Until you do it. Then you obsess over how you can ever create another. How you’ve become so invested in these characters—so entrenched in their story—that you’re not sure you have another in you. They’re family. They’re…you.

Then those voices start nattering away in your head. Distant at first, but slowly more aggressively until you have to listen. Have to jot down another idea and voila…your next novel is born. But until that moment, that book, that blood, sweat and tears creation is the hardest thing you’ve ever written.

But that’s sort of a cope out answer. After all, the first time you do most things is probably going to be the most difficult. It’s a giant learning curve. An art that takes time. I’d like to think I’ve matured since those first few stories. That I’ve come into my own style. Not that I’m done learning—oh, it’s a lifetime achievement—but I’m comfortable with who I am and know that from here on in, the changes in style or voice are just refinements. Not complete do-overs. And for better or worse, I’m okay with that. Like music, readers’ tastes are varied, so there’s a bit of a niche for everyone.

So, that still leaves the less generic answer as to what’s the hardest thing I’ve ever written. Honestly, and this isn’t a lie—the book I’m damn near finished. Don’t get me wrong, there have been other difficult books. But I honestly haven’t had one that is emotionally draining. Not really. Ricochet and Force of Nature were challenging, but I got to the point where I was living the story. Other books have taken longer than usual to write. But this one… dear god.

It’s the last book in my Tombstone series, aptly names, LAST STAND, and I’m so close I can taste it. But it’s taken so long. So painfully long. It’s not that I don’t love the characters. I do. And I know where the story is going. It’s getting the words on the page. It’s almost as if having this final book means I have to do justice to the series. I’ve loved Marshal Law and Forgotten. So this…it needs to measure up. Surpass the others. Something like that. And I’ve been bleeding every damn word since the beginning. I honestly don’t know what’s behind my inability to finish it under a reasonable timetable. All I know is that I’m clawing every word. I’m happy with it, but it’s been a monuments achievement at this point.

Now, had this subject come up a few months from now, I’d have a different answer. Mostly because I’m going to venture outside of my comfort zone and write my first, strictly MM book. The second Collateral Damage story. Yes, I’ve written a few MMF books thus far. But I’ve never not had a lady tempt her men. And this…this will be a challenge to see if I can keep the romance without having a character in it that’s essentially me!

That’s it, I suppose. Hop on over to the others and see what’s driven them to the edge.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Kellie St. James  |  Gwendolyn Cease