And it’s the first blog I’ve made since the awesome and well-needed retreat with the majority of the lovely ladies on here. What a week!!!! It’s a bummer I’m already counting down the days until next year. I wish I could see this women far more often.
But I digress. This week’s topic is… Brain Dump. Which I guess translates into… whatever is on my mind these days. And to this I say… WHAT THE HELL ISN’T ON MY MIND THESE DAYS?
Okay, so there are a couple of major things.
First… work. Which means writing. Yeah, I think about covers but it’s not the same for some reason.
Over the course of the retreat, a couple of new opportunities arose. Now, these are super secret (LOL… soon, I swear) but I’m totally stoked about these projects. And it’s definitely got me motivated in the writing department again. I”m currently working on a few books that I hope to get out the latter part of this year… then I’m turning my sights to next year. And I’m excited that I’ve made a plan of sorts. An outline so that I can take control and finally get it all straight in my head. So… writing is definitely on my mind.
Second… Montana.
Okay, why is Montana on my mind? (oh, so close to Georgia on my mind, lol) A couple of weeks ago, I decided to man up or shut up. And I signed up for my first Ultrathon. It’s called Le Grizz and it’s a 50 mile race in the upper reaches of Montana. I’ve never really done a lot of running races. I’ve participated in a number of Adventure Races and a 7 day Mountain bike race, but I haven’t even done a Marathon. However… I believe in going big or going home. Which means a huge portion of my week is dedicated to training… some days more than others. And I’m going to kick this thing…
I’d like to say there’s a third, but… it’s the regular stuff. Lack of a love life, worrying about kids going forth in the world, money, work, if I’m truly ready for the coming apocalypse 🙂 So… ordinary stuff.
Now check out the other ladies. I have this odd feeling that I approached this from a different angle. That there was more to it, lol. so…
So, for the first month, this will be done ahead, lol. Only because this is the yearly writer’s retreat, and I’ll be unplugged when this actually posts. I suppose it’s a good thing in the end. It just means I had to rush for Friday instead of Monday. This month, the song is Little Heaven by Toad the Wet Sprocket. I’m not familiar with the band, though I did like the musical score. The lyrics are a bit… different. I honestly didn’t really ‘get’ the song, but here is my best shot.
And… I decided to resurrect a previous post… hunting buddies…Kent and Seth. If you want to read that first part, go here… or… read on.
“Damn it, Seth, open the damn door.”
Kent fisted his hand against the smooth surface, knocking again when nothing sounded beyond the closed door. It’d been twelve hours since he’d dropped his buddy off at the rundown motel, and more than a couple past when Seth had said he’d meet up with Kent at the dinner. If they lived a normal damn life, Kent would have simply chalked it up to lost time or another round of hot sex with his one-time stand. But there was nothing ‘normal’ about their lives, and he had a bad feeling Seth wasn’t merely handcuffed to the bedpost, a half-clad woman straddled across his hips.
Silence settled around him, the eerie quiet spurring him into action. He reached into his pocket, removing a small set of tools. He glanced around, then bent low, quickly picking the lock. Unease churned in his gut as he straightened, removing a pistol and a flask of holy water. He checked his other supplies, then took a deep breath. The door swung open as he straightened, the interior still encased in shadows. He took a cautious step forward, sweeping the immediate area before moving beyond the threshold. He inched his way inside, cursing under his breath when the door slammed shut behind him, the air heating around him.
He sighed inwardly. He hated being right.
Kent tucked his gun into the back of his pants, then grabbed a salt bomb from his pocket. While it wasn’t as effective against demons as their salt rounds, it would send any unwanted company packing long enough he could search the room. He inched forward, hand at the ready when the floor creaked near the rear, followed by a soft scuffing sound. A raspy breath preceded the attack, Seth’s form blurring into focus from the darkness.
Kent reacted, grabbing his buddy’s arms as the man launched himself at Kent, lips curled into a snarl, his eyes nothing but solid, black discs. They reeled backwards, slamming into the wall. The salt shot out of his hand, landing off to his right in a sea of white, the crystals too far away to do any good. A picture as it crashed to the floor, bits of glass shattering across the worn linoleum.
Seth fisted Kent’s shirt, lifting him off the ground. “Kent Foster. Must be my lucky day. First, I catch your bitch with his pants down…literally. And now, the big man, himself.”
Kent grinned. “Malcom. Thought we’d sent you back to Hell for good, last time.”
“Guess your latin isn’t as good as you think.”
“My latin’s fine. Seth’s, on the other hand…”
The demon growled, tossing Kent across the room. He landed half on the bed, continuing to the floor and into the small table pushed up against the far wall. Pain sparked through his ribs, stealing his next breath. Footsteps pounded across the floor before his partner grabbed him, once again hoisting him off his feet. The scenery swam as nausea roiled through Kent’s stomach.
“Damn it, Seth, fight him. You’re better than this.”
“Sorry, Seth’s not available right now. But points for trying.”
“He’s not gone. He’ll find his way back.”
“And here I thought you were the brains in the relationship. The dependable one. Seth doesn’t have any control right now. In fact, he can’t even stop me from spilling his greatest secret.” He leaned in close, the overwhelming stench of sulphur burning Kent’s senses. “All these hookups, the hot one-night stands—they’re all just distractions. A way of keeping him from telling you the truth. That all this time, and it’s really you he’s been pinning for. Who fills his thoughts. Who he wants hot and sweaty between the sheets.” Malcolm laughed. “I do believe he’s in love with you.”
Kent stilled, his hands wrapped around Seth’s arm, feet still dangling above the floor. His stomach plummeted into his boots, his breath stalling in his chest.
Malcolm shrugged. “If only you could see your face… Almost makes me want to spare your life.” He yanked him closer. “Almost.”
“Fuck you.”
Kent flicked his thumb, popping off the top of the flask then tossing the holy water across his buddy’s face. Steam curled off the man’s skin, a sharp hissing noise filling the room. Seth staggered backwards, releasing Kent’s neck. Kent fell to the floor, hitting hard. The room shifted slightly, before he managed to roll onto his feet. He reached for his pocket, grabbing his phone, only to be flung against the wall, an invisible hold tightening around his throat. He clawed at the force, lungs burning as they tried to inflate.
The demon stepped in closer, the marks from the holy water just starting to fade. “Did you really think that would be enough? I dare say you’re losing your touch.”
Kent activated his phone, using his thumb to start the recording. His taped voice broke the momentary quiet, the ancient words sounding around them. Seth’s body reeled backwards as he palmed his head to cover his ears. Spasms shook through his muscles, pain twisting his features into a scowl.
The hold on Kent’s throat vanished, and he fell to his knees, dragging in a few painful breaths. Spots danced across his vision, a dull ringing in his head. He gave himself a mental shake, finally staggering to his feet. Seth had collaapsed onto his knees, his hands still holding his head. His buddy lifted his face, sneering at Kent when their gazes clashed. The other man’s focus shifted to the phone and he reached for it, flinging it across the room.
The words cut off as the cell hit the wall, the last phrase hanging in the air. The demon laughed, only to scream as Kent picked up where the recording had left off, reciting the latin exorcism. Seth reached for him, those invisible fingers curling around Kent’s throat again. Pain burned along his flesh, but he pushed forward, still muttering the words. Pressure built along his chest, the tight feeling shading the edges of his vision into grey.
“I won’t go back…”
The demon’s voice keened into a scream as Seth’s head tilted back, a surge of red smoke pouring out his mouth. The mist whirled toward the ceiling, coiling in on itself before exploding outwards, disappearing in a blur of crimson fog.
The grip around Kent’s neck vanished, and he fell forward onto his hands, gasping in a few painful breaths. The scenery swam, churning his stomach before finally stabilizing. Kent raised his head, looking at where Seth had been kneeling. The other man had collapsed onto the floor, a slight grimace gracing his face.
Kent crawled over to his friend, checking for a pulse, exhaling a relieved breath at the steady thrum beneath his fingertips. He gave Seth a firm shake. “Damn it, Seth, wake up.”
Seth groaned, rolling his head to one side before slivering his eyelids open. He blinked a few times, squinting at Kent as his eyes seemed to finally focus. “Kent? What the…”
Kent arched a brow. “I told you things would turn out ugly.”
“Actually, you said she’d turn out to be a werewolf. Technically, you were wrong.”
“Right, because red-eyed demon is such a step up.” He gave Seth a playful shove. “So, where’s your date?”
Seth punched Kent in the shoulder. “Like I fucking know. The last thing I remember clearly was kissing her, then bam…demon possession. Maybe she took off.”
Kent groaned. “Are you seriously telling me you went straight for the nasty without testing her first? No silver? Salt? Not even a splash of holy water?” He shook his head. “Either you’re losing your edge or you need to get laid more often, because that was just reckless.”
“She was a hunter. I assumed she’d be okay.”
“And that was your first mistake.”
“Save the lecture, Kent. I know I fucked up.” His smile faded and Seth stumbled to his feet, tripping his way over to the far wall. He braced his weight on one hand before glancing at Kent over his shoulder. He opened his mouth, looking as if he wanted to ask Kent something, then quickly closed it again.
Kent sighed then stood, making his way across the room. He stopped an arm’s length away, watching Seth’s other hand fist and release at his side. “We should talk.”
“How about we drink, instead, and forget what that fucker Malcolm said. He was just trying to mess with you.”
“So, you’re saying he lied? About everything?”
Seth’s face paled. “I’m saying that it was a demon. You know better than to trust anything they say.”
Kent palmed the wall beside Seth’s head when the man tried to push past him. Kent leaned in close, allowing his breath to feather over the other man’s face. “You want to know what I think? I think that bastard just outed you and you’re so damn scared you’ll say anything to avoid a confrontation.”
“Kent—”
Kent cut the man off with a hard press of his lips against his. Seth stiffened against him, fisting Kent’s shirt, holding him firm before slowly tugging him closer. Kent moaned into the kiss, pushing his tongue inside, tasting the pure essence that was all Seth before finally pulling back. He didn’t move far, resting his forehead on the other man’s as he breathed the guy in.
Something settled in his chest as he stared down at Seth. He gave the man a smile. “Still think we have nothing to talk about?”
And that’s it for me…. go check out the other ladies.
Not sure how we end up with two flash fictions in a row, but… It’s time for June’s Promptly Penned. I love seeing where everyone goes with this one. In the past, I’ve tried hard to use the prompt as the opener, but…when I saw this month’s, I decided it had a very specific location.
Here’s the prompt…
Person A: “How long have you been standing there?”
Person B: “Longer than you’d like.”
I think you probably know where I want these lines to go, lol. So, without delaying any longer…
Devlyn paced the length of the room, hands fisted at her sides, heat simmering beneath her skin. She did her best to stem the anger burning hot in her stomach, but each deep breath only infused Ryker’s scent into her senses, reviving the memories she’d spent the past six months burying.
She paused at the back of the sofa, allowing her frustration to manifest by punching the top of the cushions. The material scratched at her knuckles, the slight sting easing the tight feeling clenching her muscles. What the hell was she doing? And why had she even agreed to work with the bastard after everything he’d done.
Or hadn’t done.
She hissed out a curse, allowing her head to tilt up as she strove to control the frantic beating of her heart. God help her, but she still had feelings for the man. Still shivered at the sound of his gravelly voice, still reacted physically to his presence. It didn’t matter that a part of her wanted to claw at his chest and rip out his heart—a larger part wanted to love him. Hear him whisper her name as he held her close, making her feel whole when she rarely felt anything other than emptiness.
“You goddamn, son of a bitch!”
She let her voice echo in the small room. Just another factor that pissed her off. For some unknown reason she’d allowed him to convince her to stay behind—heal. Well, her side could heal after they stopped Strider from hunting down every last mark they had. Destroying not only the centre’s reputation, but years worth of work on cases still waiting to be brought to trial. Until then, she’d work through the pain. Besides, the wounds were nothing compared to the hollow feeling inside her chest. The one that made it hard to breathe whenever Ryker was around.
A dull ringing tone interrupted her thoughts and she made her way over to the coffee table. One of her burner cells vibrated across the wooden surface, the name Penelope Reid flashing across the front.
Devlyn grabbed the phone, putting the call on speaker as she answered it. “I thought this mission was silent running. No communication with anyone, even you.”
Penelope snorted. “Is that any way to say hello to your best friend? You seriously need some down time, Dev.”
Devlyn grinned, darting to the fridge to grab a beer as she raised her voice so her friend could still hear her. “While that’s true, I also know that if you’re calling me, it’s not as my BFF. So spill. What the hell does the director want now? Isn’t it bad enough I have to work with Ryker?”
“Which is exactly why I’m calling—as your friend. When I heard…” She sighed. “You okay?”
“You mean besides standing here warring between wanting to kill the bastard and wanting to pounce on top of him and fuck him into submission? I’m peachy, thanks.”
Penelope tsked her. “We both know you want to do far more than fuck him.” The woman’s breath sounded through the room as she exhaled. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”
Devlyn flopped onto the sofa, taking a swig from the bottle, glancing at the phone. She contemplated taking it off of speaker, then changed her mind. Ryker wouldn’t’ be back for another hour or two, and it made the cabin less lonely hearing her friend’s voice fill the space.
“Devlyn?”
“Love’s nothing more than a mirage. An image you see in the sand that’s not really there. And I, for one, am not going to be fooled again. Especially by the same, arrogant jackass I let break my heart before.”
“You do know you use deflection when you don’t want to answer a question, right? Like changing the subject or making a blanket statement.”
“I thought you didn’t want to be an operative? Because it sounds a lot like you’re profiling me.”
“Just because I’m calling you on your bullshit doesn’t make me the enemy. It makes me your friend. One that’s worried this situation might end up getting you killed.”
Devlyn groaned. “Thanks for that vote of confidence, sweetie. Glad to know you admire my skills as a field agent.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m merely worried that being around Ryker will be distracting. And god only knows what might happen if you’re too focused on him instead of the mission.”
“I’m fully focused on the mission.”
“Which one? Where you stab him in his sleep or fuck him?”
“Currently? I’m leaning more toward killing him, though I’d never stab the bastard. Way too much clean up involved.”
Penelope sighed. “And there you go using humour to cover your feelings. This isn’t healthy, Dev. It’s just me. Can’t you just be honest for one second? It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“Why is it so hard for you to admit you’re still in love with him?”
“Because he left. And not just with my DVDs or my favourite sweater. He left me for dead. Bleeding on that godforsaken platform, without so much as a backwards glance. Admitting I ever loved him is…weak.”
“I don’t think it’s that black and white. He must have had a reason. Have you asked him?”
“Fuck, no. Besides, it doesn’t matter. He’s had six months to explain…I don’t care anymore.”
“But that’s the problem. You do care.”
Devlyn rubbed her hand down her face, letting her head fall back against the cushions. “Admitting I feel anything but soul-deep anger towards him is…”
“Is the truth. One that scares you more than facing Strider or a dozen rogue agents. Because it means you’re human.”
“It means I’m stupid. Ryker’s made his feelings and his priorities clear. And I’m didn’t make the cut on either list.”
“You’ll never know that unless you talk to him. Hear what he has to say. If nothing else, it might give you some closure.”
“Don’t worry, Penelope. I have all the closure I need in the form of the front door.” Devlyn rolled her shoulders, taking another drink. “I’m fine. Just…see what you can do to track down those two leads for us. The quicker we find Strider and haul his ass in, the quicker I get to go back to being—”
“Alone. You’ll go back to being alone and miserable, like you’ve been since you and Ryker split up.”
“Maybe. But it beats the alternative.”
“Being happy? Loved?”
“Hurt. Again.” Devlyn leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “Come on. Do you really believe there’s anything he can say that justifies how he left? Honestly?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Devlyn jumped when the male voice sounded behind her, tripping to her feet as she reached for her weapon, pointing it at the man standing in the doorway, a couple of bags of groceries snugged in his arms. H’ed centred his gaze on her, those brilliant blue eyes studying her every move.
She forced her arms to lower, tucking away her gun before crossing her arms on her chest. Penelope’s voice sounded over the speaker, but all Devlyn could do was stare at Ryker’s blue eyes. Her lungs burned in protest and she realized she was holding her breath.
She reached for the phone, muttering a token “I’ll call you back,” at Penelope before tossing it down. Her pulse thrummed in her head as she gathered her composure, nodding at the man. “How long have you been standing there?”
A cocky smile lifted his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Longer than you’d like.”
And that’s it for me. Now go and check out the other ladies….
The hallway point of the year. Wow… just wow. And it’s time for another picture flash fiction. A pretty cool photo this month. Of course, as I’m writing the post I still have no idea what I’m going to write, but…. no excuses, right. I’ll just make this up as I go along 🙂 So… here’s the pic and the resulting story….which is going to be insanely short because I’ve spent most of the day trying to resurrect my iMac.
“For the love of god, Becca, put your damn arms down. Or are you suddenly a water bender? A goth water bender. And who the hell wears high heeled boots to the beach, anyway?”
Becca glared at her brother over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at him before begrudgingly lowering her arms. She turned back to stare at the lake, watching the large swells roll into shore, covering the tops of her boots. The white water crashed against some rocks off to her left, the constant beating of the waves soothing something raw inside her.
This is what she needed. What made the tumbling feeling in her gut bearable. What made her believe that, even for just a moment, she was normal. Just a regular girl watching the clouds drift across the sky above a sea foam green lake. A flock of seagulls chattered overhead, diving and rolling in the gust of wind that kicked up her hair, nearly knocking her hat off her head.
She inhaled, rewarded with a strong scent of fresh water and early spring. She’d always loved this time of year—watching everything awaken in waves of green and pink and yellow. But not today. Today the hint of warmth in the sun only served as a reminder of what little time she had left. How her life was about to become nothing more than endless prison.
She released a weary breath as she turned to face Nicholas. “You’re just jealous because you’d be stuck wielding fire.”
Nick winked at her as a grin spread across his face. “Can’t help it if I’m…hot, sis.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Can we not go there? I’d rather not spend my last few weeks thinking about you and hot in the same sentence.”
His smile faded. “These aren’t your last few weeks. We’re going to find a way to stop this.”
Guilt settled in her gut. “I know you want to believe that. That you’re doing everything you can, but… We’ve been searching for a way to stop this for months, and all we’ve unearthed is a bunch of useless glyphs we can’t even decipher.”
“We’ll find the key. We’re close. I know it. I can feel it.”
“Nicholas—”
“No!” He paced away, kicking at a shell and tumbling it into the frothing waves. “I won’t just give up. You’re all I’ve got, and I’m not going to stand here and let that monster take you because of some ancient agreement between our ancestors and the damn faery realm. The entire island can turn into a barren wasteland for all I care. He can’t have you.”
She speared her fingers through her hair, giving him a small smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe—”
“What? His Royal Highness, Prince Douchebag will be nice? You’ll fall in love and live happily every after?”
“I wasn’t going to say that. It’s just…maybe he doesn’t want this any more than I do. Maybe he’ll back out.”
“Right, because that’s happened exactly zero times in the past thousand years. We might as well stop searching for the solution now.”
She snorted. Her brother definitely had a way about him. She’d grant him that much.
Mecca walked over to him, playing a hand on his shoulder. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here? Pretty sure that key you keep talking about isn’t hiding in the sand.”
He straightened, giving her a playful shove. “Now that’s the Becca I know and love.”He motioned toward the hill behind them. “Shall we?”
She nodded, taking one last glance at the water, hoping it wasn’t her last.
That’s it for me. Go check out Bronwyn’s amazing piece, here… Bronwyn Green.
Finally, the flash fiction I’ve been looking forward to. Obviously, it’s no secret that this month’s song choice is mine. It’s also no secret that the band is Nickelback. I unapologetically love these guys. Regardless of the trashing I’m sure some will have preceding their story. As I’ve said before—I’ve been a fan from the start, and always will be. There’s just something about Chad’s voice, the lyrics, the music—and this song is one of my absolute favourites. If you haven’t listened to FAR AWAY, here’s the official music video below. It’s also quite fitting with the ongoing battle against wild fires up in Alberta. And here is the resulting story. This is actually something I intend to write…I’m just deciding if I need to actually run one of these huge amounts first (I’m in training, folks. Doing my best 🙂 And it’s not exactly fitting of the story but it’s what came to mind, so…
Ten more miles.
Maddison Grier followed the worn trail, her steps hushed by the loose dirt. Nothing but a soft scuff marked each step, the whisper of noise quickly swallowed by the surrounding forest. The branches of the tall evergreens swayed in the evening breeze, the deep green of the needles fading into the darkening sky. The sun sank toward the horizon, staining the tops of the distant mountains a burnished gold.
She focused on placing each footfall, ignoring the way her muscles protested the steady motion. But there was no pretending that her legs didn’t feel as if she was wading through water, growing heavier with each passing minute.
Maddy clicked the button on her headphones, smiling as the music seemed to fill the air around her. She didn’t care that the other racers had scoffed at her when she’d shown up at the starting line, earbuds firmly in place. She needed the distraction. A way to help pass the time when the endless miles started to gnaw at her sanity. Threatening to squash her determination from the inside. A way to stop thinking about him.
Her foot caught on a root, and she took a few stumbling steps before gaining her balance. Cramps clenched her thighs, making the next few strides blur her vision as pain scratched at her resolve. It’d be so easy to stop. To give up.
She blinked away tears, searching her mind for a single reason to keep moving, when the song changed, the soothing melody of the guitar bleeding through the uncertainty. She took a few deep breaths as the gravelly voice wrapped around her, flashing images of another time—another place. A similar sunset, that same song echoing across the mountains as they swayed across the makeshift dance floor, friends and family watching from the edges. But she hadn’t even noticed them, her entire world wrapped in his arms as he’d hummed along to the tune, the light scruff on his chin caressing her cheek. She’d closed her eyes, trusting him to lead, believing anything was possible. That they’d be the ones to beat the odds as the music surrounded them.
Their song.
Her chin quivered. She’d meant to remove that one piece from her playlist. Erase every vestige of his existence from her memory. Do like the damn song suggested and get as far away from that part of her life as she could. Hell, it was the reason she was out here, counting down the last of fifty miles. Completing a race she hadn’t planned on running. But after she’d left… It’d been the only form of sanctuary she’d found. Losing herself in the steady cadence of her stride, in the scent of pine and cottonwood, had been the only way she’d been able to keep going without falling to her knees and screaming.
Maddy forced herself to swallow, picking up her feet as the trail twisted through another stand of trees. She refused to feel guilty. To second guess her decision. She’d laid it all out at Rhett’s feet. Had given him—them—one last chance to salvage their marriage. To make a conscious decision to choose them over work. Over everything else. She’d waited for him. Had sat on the bed in their favorite getaway, willing him to walk through the door. Telling herself he’d merely gotten caught in traffic. It wasn’t until she watched the sun rise the next morning that she’d admitted the truth.
He’d texted. Had apologized. Had promised to meet up with her that night. He’d given more than a few excuses as to why he hadn’t been able to leave, why he couldn’t call. But it’d all equated to the same, simple fact. Their relationship wasn’t worth the effort. She wasn’t worth his effort. While she’d never doubted that he still loved her, in that one moment—as she’d stared out at the mountains, listening to the distance cry of a hawk as it soared overhead—she’d realized it wasn’t enough. That she needed to be more than a safe place to fall. A token thought. Someone he could brush off because he knew she loved him. She didn’t expect to always be at the top of his list, but damn it, she expected to be on the list. And sometimes, she needed to come first.
She’d placed her ring on the bed with a note and left—taken a few weeks of personal time and vanished. That’s when she’d made the rash decision to run a damn ultra race. To focus all her energy on training. On committing to something that was pure. Untainted by him. He’d never really loved running, not the way she did. And she’d taken solace in that fact. Savored the knowledge that it’d always belong to her. That even his memories couldn’t steal it away, like they had her sanity. Her heart. Her damn soul.
Her chest constricted around her next breath, but she had a feeling it had nothing to do with the eleven hours of running. Of the forty something miles she’d logged or the thousands of feet of elevation she’d gained and lost. It was him. And she realized that no matter how far she ran, how many mountains she climbed, she’d never truly escape her love for him. That she’d always be chasing it—an invisible quarry she’d never quite catch. Like racing a version of herself that would always be that step ahead. That even crossing the finish line wouldn’t quite feel the way she’d hoped. That the loss would still be there, clawing at the euphoria. Taunting her with her one true failure. That despite her best efforts, she’d still love him.
Maddy listened to the last few phrases play in her mind, more tears blurring her vision, before she pushed away the thoughts. This was her time. Her place. And she’d be damned if she’d let Rhett take her one salvation from her. The small amount of pride she’d feel in just a few short miles.
She clenched her jaw, picking up her feet. She’d finish the race. Join in the celebration after. Then on Monday, she’d be back at the bureau, making her way though a mountain of cases. Using the only other means she had to push Rhett out of her head. And once her legs didn’t feel like bars of steel, she’d be out on the trails, trying, yet again, to run away from the one man she’d ever love.
And that’s it for me. Now hop on over to the other ladies, if you haven’t already.
It’s already May. My how the time is flying by. And it’s time for another Promptly Penned. I have to admit, I’m not even sure how to interpret this month’s prompt. And using it as the first line… not going to happen. But I’ll give it the old college try. Here’s the prompt…
Write about the three things he could never tell her.
See what I mean! Anyway, let’s see where this goes…
“Just tell her. Please. Before I decide to kill you, instead.”
Noah fisted his hands at his side, glancing at Josh over his shoulder. Despite being Noah’s best friend, the man was also a giant pain in the ass. Especially when his buddy already knew the answer.
Noah crossed his arms over his chest as he turned to face Josh. “The whole ‘killing me’ thing might prove a bit futile, as you well know. And perhaps you’d like to clarify what, exactly, it is you’d have me tell Faith. The fact that I’m immortal? That she’s my mortal mate? Or that in all of the lifetimes we’ve shared, I haven’t once been able to save her from him!”
Josh’s expression softened as he leaned against the wall. “You’re not the only one who’s failed. I’m stuck in this endless loop with you. I’m as much to blame for allowing Savage to get to her as you are.” He shook his head. “You can’t watch Faith every minute of every damn day. But if you tell her—”
“You know the rules. If I tell her anything—one damn detail about our past—she’ll lose her magic.”
“What good is her damn magic if she can’t use it? Doesn’t live long enough to figure it out for herself? At least if she knows who she is—what you two share…” Josh raked his hand through his hair. “Isn’t a lifetime together worth the sacrifice?”
Noah sighed, bracing more of his weight on the wall behind him. God, he was tired. Tired of fighting a war he couldn’t win. Of always being one step behind Savage. Of failing the woman he loved over and over. All they had to do was beat Savage. Just once, and he’d be able to mate with Faith permanently—ensure she spent the next millennium by his side. But without her magic…
He gave Josh a grim smile. “You know we can’t beat the bastard without her magic. It takes both our power to break the spell.”
Josh pushed off the wall, crossing the room to stand beside Noah. “I know. I just thought that maybe, this one time, simply being together—loving her for as long as you can—might be enough. Might lift that depressing funk you’ve gotten into after a few centuries of failure. Give you hope.”
Noah drew himself up. “I don’t need hope. I need to fucking make it work. Getting Faith to love me isn’t the issue. We’re drawn together the same way we always are. Getting her to realize what she is… There’s got to be a way. One that doesn’t break the stupid rules.”
Josh snorted. “Right. A way we haven’t thought of over the past three hundred years…ouch.” He rubbed his arm where Noah had punched him. “Man, you’re pissy. Fine, we’ll go through everything again. Figure it out.”
“Damn straight. Because I’m done playing by Savage’s rules. This time…he’s the one who’s going to fail.”
That’s it for me. I know, short for once. I’m honestly just bagged, lol. Check out the other ladies…
It’s promptly penned time again. Now, despite my determination to always use the prompt in the first lines.. this one is just a setup.. it’s not really a useable prompt… it’s a conspiracy, I know. Anyway, here is the prompt and here is the resulting flash fiction…no idea what’s going to get written on the page, folks, but… let’s have a look.
You stumble upon old home videos of you and your siblings as toddlers. Nostalgia fades when you realize something isn’t quite right.
“No.”
Sarah Lewis cringed. She knew that tone. Once Jory made up his mind about something, the man rarely changed it.
She crossed her arms over her chest, hitching out one hip. “Jory—”
“You know how I feel about watching that stuff.”
She sighed, walking over to where he leaned against the door. “And I wouldn’t normally ask, but you know it’s for the ceremony. They want some footage of dad outside of his military career, and that’s the only stuff I have access to. Some of the few items that haven’t been lost or destroyed.”
Jory huffed. “The man’s been dead for twenty years. Why now?”
“You ask me like I know. It’s the military. They didn’t explain. They just demanded. And with mom the way she is…”
Jory looked away. Sarah knew their mother’s condition was a sore spot with Jory. Especially with him being a doctor. Something about watching his mother succumb to a disease he couldn’t fix affected her brother on a level Sarah hadn’t witnessed before. Regardless that Jory was a trauma surgeon, not a infectious disease specialist. Hell, no one seemed to know what was wrong with their mother. Just that she was dying and there wasn’t much anyone could do. No treatment that seemed to work.
She palmed his shoulder. “We’ll be quick. I’ve already gone through two of the videos. There’s nothing useable on either one. Dad’s hardly in them at all.”
“He was hardly ever here. I don’t know why you think he’d be on any of those films.”
She did her best not to react to the anger colouring his words, not when she’d spent her life watching him try to be the man of the house. To pick up the pieces every time their dad left on an assignment, only to be relegated back to a kid once the man had returned. Until he hadn’t. She’d only been five at the time, and Jory had seemed so old to her, then. Ten going on thirty.
“I know it wasn’t easy growing up—”
“Easy? The man chose his career over us. Over everything. Never once stopped to care that mom cried herself to sleep every damn night for the first month whenever he went away. He made a vow, Sarah. It should have meant more to him than just a place to keep his damn boots when he deemed it convenient. Family isn’t convenient.”
“And that’s why you’re going to be an amazing father. Meg’s a lucky lady. Trust me, I know. I can’t find a guy to stick around for longer than a few weeks.” She gave him a nudge. “Face it, bro. Men like you are an endangered species.”
He snorted, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Fine. One video, but that’s all. And you’d better have a case of beer.”
“Since when have I ever asked you to help me out without the aid of alcohol?”She placed her hand on her chest. “That hurts, big brother.”
“Brat.”
He headed for the sofa, settling on the grey material as she detoured to the kitchen, grabbing a six pack out of the fridge. She glanced around the kitchen. Soon, she’d be standing in the room, deciding what to keep and what to get rid of. Which memories meant the most to her.
She shoved aside the painful thoughts, walking back to the living room. She gave her brother a bottle, twisting her cap off as she settled beside him. He gave her a playful kick like he used to do when they were kids then nodded at the television.
She took a swig, allowing the cool liquid to ease the sudden dryness in her throat as she pressed a couple buttons on the remote. The unit flashed to life, flickering nothing but static for a few seconds before her brother’s image filled the screen.
She laughed. “Damn, you had big ears back then. Thank Christ you grew into them.”
He stuck his tongue out at her, pointing to her younger self as she appeared on the footage. “At least I had hair. I can’t believe you let mom chop all of yours off.”
“Pretty damn sure there was no ‘letting’ involved. I was all of two.”
She smiled as the movie played on. A rare moment with them all together in the yard, with laughter that actually sounded genuine. Their dad appeared halfway through the video, the line of his jaw so much like Jory’s Sarah had to place her hand over her mouth to keep it shut. Damn, her brother could have been the man’s twin.
Of course, that’s where the similarities ended. Jory was compassionate. Loyal. The only person she knew she could honestly say had never let her down. Had always been there when he’d promised—stood up for her when no one else would. Sure, her mom had tried, but after their dad had died, the woman had never quite been the same. As if a part of her had been taken away.
She frowned. Even watching the home movies, it had never seemed as if her mom had loved her dad to the point she’d mourned his death as much as she had. A reason why she’d allowed it to dictate the next twenty years of her life.
The screen turned black. She sighed. Shit, she hadn’t really been paying enough attention over the last several minutes to know if there’d been any good footage. Sure, her dad had been in the frame, but…
Jory leaned forward. “We done?”
She glared at him. “God forbid you stay an extra minute. Just…”
Her voice faded as the screen flashed back to life, some garbled voices sounding before the images stabilized. She stared at the footage, watching an even younger version of her mom smile for the camera.
Jory nudged her. “What’s this?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen it before. The couple of times we ever watched that movie, mom always turned it off.” She smiled when a small boy bounced across the frame. “Oh my god. Is that you?”
“Guess so. Shit, I can’t be more than four.”
“Which means I wasn’t even born yet.”
Jory laughed as the camera panned back, revealing a swaddled bundle of pink in their mother’s arms. “Correction. You were brand new. Bet you had that smell and everything.”
“Wow. I wonder why mom never showed us this. I’ve never seen any pictures or videos of me before I was five. It’s like I just appeared on the doorstep.”
Jory gave her a playful shove. “Trust me. You were there from the start. I…”
His mouth kept moving for a moment but nothing came out as he stared at the screen. Sarah frowned, glancing back at the television when the picture sent ice sluicing through her veins. Her mother was still holding a bundled baby, only this blanket was blue, as was the matching cap. The woman cooed at the infant, holding a tiny hand in hers.
“Damn it, Martha, I told you not to get too attached. You know we can’t keep him.”
Her mother looked up at their father, anger creasing her forehead. “Of course we are, John. They can’t make us hand over a child. Our child.”
John’s expression softened. “We have an agreement.”
“That was before I knew they wanted to take one of my kids. I never agreed to that.”
“Martha—”
“Medication. I was only supposed to take their precious medication. Suffer through those hideous injections. They never said I’d have to…”
She dissolved into tears, holding the baby close.
Their dad placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s because of them we have Sarah. You never would have gotten pregnant again if they hadn’t intervened. You know that.” He bushed the blanket back from the baby’s forehead. “They’ll take good care of him. I promise.”
“I can’t…I…”
She jumped off, giving John the baby before scooping Sarah up and rushing off. John stared at the infant then glanced toward the camera. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, turn off the damn camera. We can’t have any record of this—”
The screen went black again, nothing but their father’s words echoing in the room like a bloody death rattle. Sarah stared at the television, mouth gaping open, a dull roar sounding in her head, when Jory swore and pushed to his feet.
“What the fuck was that?” He turned to face her. “You did see that, right? I wasn’t dreaming?”
“You mean the part where it looks like we have a brother?”
“A fucking twin brother. Jesus, Sarah. How…” He stalked around the room, finally punching the couch. “I don’t remember any of that.”
Sarah pushed up. She stepped in front of her brother, stopping him from pacing the room again. “Jory. You weren’t quite five, and from the looks of it, whoever this mystery baby was didn’t stay long. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. No one ever mentioned anything.”
Jory clenched his jaw then collapsed on the sofa cushions. “I can’t believe this. Do you think he’s still alive? Does he even know about us?”
Sarah hit some buttons, rewinding the video and pausing it on the baby’s face. She shook her head, finally looking back at her brother. “I don’t know, but I fucking intend to find out.”
And that’s it for me. Glad I didn’t claim it’d be short again. One day. One fucking day it will be short. In the meantime, check out the other ladies….
Story time again. Not sure how much time I have to commit to this one—I’m in the midst of a book and I really want to get it done. And it’s actually flowing so… but I’m trying to stay true to my pledge to both blog and write more. So… here’s the awesome photo and the resulting story—which might just be super short. I don’t know as I’m making it up as I write this. Oh, and it’s a piece from Red Sky Dawning… the serial that fell off the rails because, hello… time. I’m still going to finish writing it, because it’s playing in my head, but… anyway, here goes.And yes, there could be tiny spoilers in here, I suppose, but… I don’t care. It’s all I could come up with.
“Rylan.”
Rylan froze as Aelwyn’s voice curled over him. Though she’d barely whispered his name, he’d felt the soothing tone echo through his body, calming his power while setting his blood on fire. He glanced over his shoulder at her, taking in the simple curves of her silhouette. The way her hair seemed to gleam with the same golden color as her energy, or how her eyes softened the moment their gazes met.
He let his focus shift to her chest, just a few of the swirls showing beyond her top—a raven surrounded by fire. His mark. Ever since it’d appeared on her skin, he’d been off-kilter. His attention divided. As if he couldn’t consider a course of action without thinking how it’d impact her. If he’d be putting her life at risk. And he wasn’t sure if he liked the new development.
Her fingers landed on his shoulder, and he couldn’t stop from twisting—pulling her against him. He breathed in her scent, smiling at the way her power washed over him, drawing his out. Red coloured his skin, burning into a deep orange as it blended with hers.
He cupped her chin, brushing his thumb along her jaw. “Something wrong, sweetness?”
Her smile dropped his stomach. “No, it’s just…” She did a sweep of his body. “Are you all right? I sense…unrest.”
“I’m fine, under the circumstances.”
Her smile faded. “If there was another way to get Aelric back…”
“I’ll be fine.” He straightened. “Are you sure Aelrik’s in the castle keep? I’d have thought he’d be taken to the dungeons.”
She merely raised her brow.
He sighed. “You don’t have to be smug about it. I know you well enough to trust your instincts. I’m just not sure how we’ll get inside without having the entire palace guard challenging us. And I’d rather not hurt anyone if we can help it.”
Aelwyn palmed his jaw. “I’m a healer. I’m the last person who’d tell you to harm your own people. Surely there’s another way inside? A secret passage? A tunnel of some sort? Something that won’t alert the guards?”
Rylan scoffed. “I haven’t been here for nearly a century. I’m sure any shortcomings have been strengthened during my absence.”
“Your father sealed your kingdom away. Gave your people the illusion of peace. That kind of deception, even when made with the best of intentions, breeds complacency.”
“You think there are weaknesses we can exploit.”
“You are the Prince of Ravendale. Heir to the throne. If you can’t find a way inside your home, then one doesn’t exist.”
Rylan stared at her—her trust in him absolute—and wondered how he’d ever thought of her as the enemy? How he’d ever believed there was anything other than honour within her heart. A love that encompassed the very essence of life, itself.
He dipped down, brushing his mouth across hers, savouring the brief tangle of their tongues before drawing back. He surveyed the walls of the castle, motioning her to follow him as he made his way toward the rear battlements. Wild dogs cried out in the night, the distant sound of horse’s hooves beating upon the ground.
He stopped just shy of a small waterway, drawing her in close. “When I was young, I used to swim under the rails in the stream to get in and out without my father knowing. I suppose there’s a chance no one has thought to check them.”
Aelwyn eyed the rippling surface. “How deep do you have to go?”
“A good thirty hands or so, if memory serves.”
She arched a brow. “You do realize fire and water are opposite forces. Your energy won’t enjoy the journey.”
“If it means gaining entry undetected…” He grinned at her. “Normally, I’d just liquify the iron, but you’ve been most insistent about me avoiding a show of power.”
“Merick will sense your fire the instant it flickers across your skin.”
“Let the bastard come. I’m not afraid of him.”
“Rylan. You can’t kill the man without hearing his reasons as to why he’s betrayed your people. We both know that, so pretending otherwise…” She leaned forward, drawing her fingers through the top of the water. “Though I doubt Merick will recognize a surge of my energy.”
She kept moving her hand through the water as her skin began to glow, the brilliant white deepening into gold. The water frothed, churning in on itself until a small funnel appeared on the surface. It spun faster, the centre lowering below the surface until the rocky bottom of the channel gleamed in the rising moonlight. The hole widened, expanding until almost half the width of the river diverted around it.
She motioned to him. “Hurry. If I keep it open for too long, Merick will send a contingency of palace guards to investigate.”
Rylan stare at the wall of water swirling around the opening, finally turning his gaze back to her. “How are you doing that?”
“You already suspected I could manipulate all of the elements. Is this really so surprising?”
“Thinking it and seeing it are distinctly different. You…” He shook his head. “You’re beautiful.”
A light flush crept along her nape and into her cheeks. “Go. I’ll follow once you signal me it’s clear.”
Rylan snorted, then slipped into the creek, watching as the water raced past him. He reached out one hand, letting the spiralling liquid swirl past his fingers before smiling and heading for the wall. Aelwyn moved the hole with him, keeping the water circling his position until he reached the fortress’ wall, ducking beneath the rough stone to where a small, iron grid blocked his way. He knelt. Though a couple of the rungs were still missing, the gap wasn’t nearly big enough for him to crawl through, now. He focused on the ends directly beside the hole, tugging on one of the rungs. A metallic clank sounded around him a moment before the end broke, widening the gap. He tried the next, moving on to a third when the second crumpled into dust. He’d barely touched the last rung before it dropped onto the wet sand, sinking partway down.
He rolled onto his back, shimmying beneath the broken ends, finally dragging himself to the other side. Sand braided his skin, but he didn’t care. He’d gotten inside. He stood, motioning to Aelwyn, gasping when she merely jumped in, not bothering to part the water. Bubbles churned the water close to him before her face appeared in the spiralling liquid. She reached for him, the water falling way like a curtain as he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her back.
He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of watching you use your power, sweetness. It’s breathtaking.”
She smiled, pressing her head against his chest, her tiny fingers like brands against his flesh. “See? This is why your kingdom needs you to take your rightful place on the throne. They have no idea how vulnerable they really are.”
“I doubt any fortress is safe from you, but—”
He cut off as a noise sounded behind him. He turned, vaulting out of the river bed in a single, strong movement before scrambling to his feet. He donned his sword, prepared to fight when a lone figure emerged from the shadows. The man walked closer, stopping when the moonlight illuminated his face, shining off the hilt of his sword. A dark cloak covered his body, the long hood hiding all but his face. Scars marred one side of his cheek, as he stared at Rylan, the hint of grey in his beard seemingly out of place. He raised his sword, holding it in one hand as he brought it to his chest, disbelief shaping his features. He opened his mouth, but nothing sounded save a rasping breath.
Rylan inhaled, the familiar shape of the man’s jaw finally bleeding through. He eased up his stance slightly as Aelwyn moved in beside him, her skin hued a light gold. She grabbed one arm, the slight tremor in her touch shaking off his shock.
He spared her a quick nod before lowering his weapon, arching his brow at the man still staring at him. “I wondered when you’d show up. Knew you were too stubborn to be dead.”
The man looked between them, eyes still rounded, breath still coming in rough pants. “Rylan?”
Rylan grinned extending his hand. “Aye. Good to see…Garreth.”
And that’s it for me. Nearly 1500, not bad for wanting it to be short. Anyway, jump on over to Bronwyn if you haven’t already. Her and I are in it alone this week, and I’m betting hers far exceeds mine.
There’s no ugly. At least, I hope not. Though it’s a good topic for this week…Writing, 3 strengths and 3 weaknesses. Because, as with all professions, each author has aspects they excel at and some they don’t—which is why we all need amazing editors. I have some such editors (wink wink ladies) who keep me real. Gently remind me when I’ve fallen off the rails. Though recognizing your own faults is much harder than you realize. It’s not that hard to see it in someone else’s writing, but to find it in your own… I like to believe it’s because you have the whole story in your head. You don’t see holes or repetitive words until later. Usually until someone points them out, lol. See the good editor note above.
But, I’ll try to be honest here…
Strengths. POV… I can honestly say I’ve got this. I rarely head hop in a story, or skew or whatever folks call it. I try to lean toward changing POVs each chapter. Sometimes it requires a shift mid-chapter, especially with menages. It’s not always easy to get in that equal time if there are four people vying for power. But… I do try exceedingly hard not to slip. And I stay with the main characters only. For the love of god, readers don’t need to know what the gardner is thinking, or the cashier. Or even the boss if he/she isn’t a main player. Just the facts, folks and just the main characters, whether it be one (not really my style but if you write first person, this is popular) two or more, as long as they are all the ones intimately invested in the outcome. And no, supporting characters don’t count. Give them their own book if you want to get inside their head.
Letting the sex develop organically…I know, you’re probably thinking… what the fuck? But, as I am an erotic romance writer, my books have sex. It’s part of the definition of the genre. As I’ve said before… there needs to be sex in my sex book. However, it also needs to happen when it should, not because you reached the magical third chapter. Hell, it can crop up in chapter one if it’s appropriate, or not until halfway through, which tends to be more realistic if the characters don’t know each other prior to meeting. Hell, even if they do there might be a mountain of baggage to climb before they jump back in the sack. Either way, I think I’m okay at letting the sex happen when and how it should and not having it feel forced. Of course, this often means my characters hump like bunnies once they finally get into the bed, or against the wall, or in the shower, or…. you get what I mean.
Suspense/action… Now, this is just my opinion. I’m sure some will disagree. You can’t please everyone, but… I love writing suspense. Love dropping hints to where it’s going but hopefully not giving it all away. Love writing epic action scenes. Fights. Chases. I’d like to think I’m doing them all justice. So, I’ll go with this. Fingers crossed. Because I’m hoping this is the reaction…
Weaknesses
Writing short…Yes, I view this as a weakness in the sense I have a hard time thinking small. Writing shorter piece effectively requires a focused viewpoint. Condensing the story down to a single event, quite often. And it requires skill to do it well. I have come to the conclusion, focusing small just isn’t my forte. I’ve tried… lord have I tried. What a lot of readers might not know is that a lot of call for submissions and other projects have an upper limit for word count. Quite often 20, 30 or maybe 40K is the most you can write, and well, for me, 40K is a mere minimum. When I try to shorten things, they always feel incomplete and rushed to me. I think of stories on an epic scale. Maybe it was growing up with all the epic movies of the time… Star Wars, Indiana Jones… or that even songs made a move from the standard 3 mins to over 5. I don’t know, but as you can tell just by this post, writing short—definitely a weakness.
Favourite words…Okay, what I mean is I tend to have a word or ten in any given manuscript that my lovely editor points out is the ‘word of the manuscript’. Hence, everyone growls, or leans or palms something. Not a hard thing to correct, but the point is…no matter how hard I try NOT to have this happen, it does. Every time. Not the same word, I’ll grant you that, but… something. Every. Damn. Time.
Interrupting the action with dialogue…Okay, so above I said suspense and action was a strength… as long as I don’t do this. Which, my editor is kind enough to remind me of. It’s nothing horrible, but… you know, life and death and my lovers decide now is the time to have a quick chat. Or in one book, my heroine decided to go for a run when she really shouldn’t. Now, granted, I’d probably do this to stay sane in real life, but… yeah. Knowing when not to interrupt the action sometimes requires another set of eyes for me. Though I’m getting better. I hear my editor’s voice in my head saying… now, Kris….would they really stop to do this? Yeah, it’s as frightening as it sounds (wink wink).
Okay, for better or worse that’s my post. Now, I’ll admit that spelling isn’t my forte all the tie either. But thankfully, there’s spellcheck. And I sometimes mix up words… though that tends to be isolated to each manuscript, kind of like the fave word thing. I just use the wrong one the whole freaking time. But…such is life. Please check out the other ladies and see what they think are their strengths and weaknesses.
Flash fiction time and this month’s song is by Ellie Goulding… HOW LONG WILL I LOVE YOU. It’s quite a lovely one, though I still say it has sad musical undertones for a love song. But, a nice deviation from some of the others we’ve had and will have. Though there’s nothing wrong with gritty when they pop up:)
Anyway, here is the video if you’re not familiar with the song (I hadn’t heard it before, though I quite like her other popular songs that I know) and the resulting fiction. And FYI… I couldn’t think of anything else to write, sigh. These seem to get harder and harder.
“All right folks, time to slow it down for all those lovebirds out there.”
Amanda Jones groaned, walking quickly towards a set of French doors as the lilting tones echoed through the room. People paired off, easy laughter and the haunting melody following her onto the terrace overlooking the lake. The moon had risen above the distant horizon, glinting off the water like dancing fireflies.
She stared at the shoreline, watching the waves lap against the rocky shore. The music drowned out the sound of the water, but the rhythmic motion seemed to match the rise and fall of the song, as if the ripples were following along.
She inhaled, drinking in the sweet scent of roses with a hint of summer rain, though there were only a few clouds starting to build in the sky. Her chest tightened as the song faded, another slow one breaking up the momentary void. Why she’d agreed to come to the wedding was still a mystery.
She sighed. Family. The greatest blessing and worst curse. She’d come back to watch her little sister get married, despite the fact she’d sworn she’d never return. Never be a pawn for her stepmother’s agenda. But then Trixie had called and Amanda had jumped on a train…returned to the one place she’d thought she’d finally escaped from.
“Thought I’d find you hiding out here.”
The low gravelly voice made her jump and she spun, staring at deep brown eyes as the edges crinkled with laughter. An easy smile lifted his lips as he moved towards her, stopping an arm’s length away.
He glanced over her shoulder, nodding at the lake. “I’ll say this much…scenery here never gets old.”
She stared up at him, trying to make her tongue form his name, but all that came out was a raspy breath. Somehow, she’d managed to avoid him all day, only to let all her guard down over some sappy love song. One that reminded her far too much of him. Of them.
He chuckled. “Tongue-tied, sweetheart? That I wasn’t expecting.”
A surge of anger bled through her surprise. She crossed her arms on her chest, tapping her foot on the stone. “Brogan Keller. I’m not hiding. I’m enjoying the view. And I thought you’d finally left small town life behind you?”
“And I thought Hell had to freeze over before you came back here?”
“I hear there’s an early frost this year.” She backed up, leaning against the railing. “Besides, I never could say no to Trixie. But don’t worry, I’ll be gone the moment she gets into that limousine.”
“So, it’s back to running.”
“Call it whatever you want. I think of it as keeping my sanity.” She glanced at the open doors, watching the dancers glide around the floor. “I don’t belong here. Never did.”
Brogan released a weary breath, spinning to lean against the rail beside her. “You have just as much right to be here. Your father—”
“Is dead. And any ties I had to this place died with him. My stepmother and her new boy toy haven’t so much as said hello to me since I arrived this morning. If it weren’t for Trixie…”
Amanda turned away. God, what was it about this place, about him, that made her emotions so hard to keep in check? Made her usual defences slip away? Hell, she was a US Marshal. Surely, she could handle being around people she despised for twenty four hours.
Brogan nudged her. “Why come, then, when you knew it’d be like this? Trixie would have understood. Hell, all you had to do was lie. Tell her you had a case—”
“She’s my sister. And don’t start in with the whole half sister bullshit. She’s the only good thing that ever came out of my father marrying that monster. And I wasn’t about to abandon her on the one day she needed someone in her corner. Did you know her mother tried to break them up? Claimed her fiancé had a record…was only interested in Trixie’s money.”
Brogan snorted. “Why do I have the feeling you used your connections to prove your stepmother wrong?”
“Because I did. Turns out Ryan’s big dark secret was that he got arrested once during an anti-terrorism protest. Spent a few hours in custody before being released. And the man has more than enough of his own money.” Amanda huffed. “My stepmother just couldn’t stand the thought of losing control over Trixie. Of losing access to her funds.”
Brogan merely nodded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You look good.”
She glanced at him. “You don’t have to make small talk, Brog. Or pretend you want to be around me. We both know the truth.”
He clenched his jaw, a hint of blush staining his cheeks. “The truth? Which truth is that, Amanda, because as far as I’m concerned, I gave you exactly what you wanted—space. Freedom.”
“Is that what you call it? I seem to recall me asking you to move out to New Mexico with me. You’re the one who turned me down.”
His eyes narrowed as he spun to face her, all semblance of composure gone. “What the hell are you talking about? I showed up at the train station. In fact, I fucking sat there all day. You never showed up. But I got the letter you left me—and your message.”
Amanda took a step back only to have him snag her arms.
He tugged her against him, lowering his face until it hovered an inch from hers. “After everything we shared, the battles we fought to be together, I think I deserved more than a fucking note and a one-way ticket to California.”
“What?”
He released her, pacing away before spinning. “It’s been two years. The least you can do is finally tell me why. I deserve that.” He took a single step towards her. “Who was it?”
Amanda shook her head, trying to grasp onto anything he was saying. “What the hell are you talking about? There was never anyone else. And what letter? We were supposed to meet at the bus station.”
“We agreed on the train station.”
“Until you changed the location that morning. I got your text. Went to the damn bus depot instead, only Jacob was there. He told me you’d sent him to let me down easy. Said you weren’t willing to give up your trust fund just so I could go on some vision quest to find my father’s killer. Become something I wasn’t. I called you, from the terminal—you never answered.”
Brogan took another step. “This isn’t funny, Amanda. All I want is an answer, not some elaborate lie to make you feel better about fucking me over.”
“You were the one who fucked me over, baby. So if you’re looking for something, I suggest you go back inside and find it with someone who runs in your financial circle.”
She spun on her heels, taking the stone steps off to her right. After burying her feelings for two years, just being around Brogan was enough to make the damn air feel heavy, pushing on her lungs until simply breathing was a near impossible feat. She ran across the grass, not stopping until she reached the shoreline. The steady wash of the water against the rocks matched the frantic beating of her heart, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to calm down. She never should have come. Never should have reopened old wounds.
A hand locked around her shoulder, pulling her back then spinning her around. Her balance shifted and she tumbled backwards, before Brogan grabbed her, pulling her against his chest. Her hands connected with hard muscle, the heady scent of his cologne surrounding her. She tried not to breathe it in, but it seemed to seep through her skin until she could taste it. Taste him.
“Shit.” Brogan’s chin brushed across her head.
“Let go.”
“Are you trying to kill yourself? You want me to go to jail, now, for harming a federal officer?”
“What I want is for you to leave me the hell alone.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” He eased back. “Tell me why you’re still lying to me.”
“What lie? I’ve never lied to to you, Brogan.”
“I didn’t send you a text. Never sent Jacob to meet you.”
“Then why…” She let the words die on her tongue as she gazed up at the house. Pieces started falling together, the raw clarity of them making her stomach heave in protest. “Oh my god.”
Brogan frowned. “You didn’t write that letter, did you? I tried calling, as well. You never picked up.”
“That’s because I never got any calls.” She drew in a few shaky breaths. “She switched phones. She actually switched phones. Got Jacob to text me from yours, and… Oh my god.”
“But why? She wanted you gone, why—”
“To punish me. I’m the reason my father died. He was out that night looking for me. If I hadn’t snuck out to see you…”
Brogan drew her in close, this time holding her gently in his arms. “It wasn’t your fault. You have to know that by now.”
“She blames me. She’ll always blame me. When my father died, she lost control of the majority of his money. It went to us, not her. And that was a far worse fate than living a lie as his wife.”
He sighed, using one hand to lift her chin. “So, you were going to meet me that day?”
“Of course I was going to meet you. God, Brogan…you were the one. You’re still the one. I never—”
He cut her off as his lips claimed hers, the intensity of the kiss pulling her under. She gave him control, relying on him to hold her up as the world collapsed into them, and the firm brush of skin on skin. She inhaled roughly when he finally released her, his forehead resting on hers.
She exhaled a ragged breath. “But—surely you’re with someone. After all this time…”
He chuckled. “I tried, but…couldn’t seem to get this feisty federal marshal out of my head. Though, I do have a cat. Your turn.”
“I just told you, you’re still the one. Do you really think I’d say that if I were with anyone? So no. No one.”
“Well, this certainly changes the nature of this meeting. Sounds like we have some talking to do.”
She grinned. “Talking? I’m standing here saying I never stopped loving you and you want to talk?”
His eyes darkened as he dipped down and picked her up. “By talking I mean I want to hear you scream my name. That’s if you’re willing to leave with me.”
“I packed my gun, so…I’ll risk it. On one condition.”
He arched his brow in question.
“You give me one slow dance before we leave…and never come back.”
And that’s it for me. Please check out the other ladies…
