I've had so many ideas for stories over the years. A lot of those ideas have been fleshed out, over-thought, discarded. Some were written, but incomplete, and got lost along the way. But, on the days when I feel like I don't have any talent at all, I can dig up a few unfinished pieces, incomplete scenes or chapters, to make myself feel good again. Or, to prod inspiration and the muses to strike. The following two snippets are fleshed out from the idea of a novel trilogy I had. I'm still hoping to expand it to a point that it can be finished.
(And I'll add here, just for the sake of covering my own rear-end, that all original fiction that I post on the blog is definitely copywritten and NOT okay to share anywhere else on the web. So, please don't. :D) ( On to the fiction...Collapse )
This second part is meant to take place sometime just before the climax of the novel, or more toward the end as a lead in toward the second novel.
I walked toward him, pulling my shirt over my head as I went. I stood before him then, in nothing but blue jeans and a bra, fear and uncertainty rolling off my skin in waves. Was this the right choice? I thought of Summer, beaten and broken, tied to the Triad forever, and I knew it was. This was the way to save her.
I swept my hair aside and bared my neck to Gabriel. "Do it."
His deep blue eyes raked over my face, settling on the fluttering pulse at my neck. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"I'm asking you to help me save my sister."
"It won't be enough. You'll never be strong enough to go against the Triad."
"Do you have any better ideas?"
"Yes." His gaze hardened, like cobalt glass. "Forget you ever had a sister."
He was suddenly before me, his body inches from mine. "This is not a smart choice."
"It's the only choice I have left." I put my hand to his chest, gathering a handful of the crisp linen shirt he wore. I was feeling it now, the desperation that I might never save Summer, that I might not ever get her back. How could I live with myself if I didn't do this? Gabriel was right, it wasn't a smart choice, but the time for other options had come and gone. This was the only road left to me now.
If he moved, it was far too fast for my human mind to comprehend. In the blink of an eye, he'd gathered me to him, his hands full of my hair, and pressed his lips to the hollow of my neck. His tongue flicked out, hot, tasting my skin. A rushing sound filled my ears, my head, and I suddenly wasn't sure I had the strength to stand. His lips formed a seal over my pulse, and a low sound escaped my throat. I felt the brush of his fangs, needle sharp, and I stiffened in sudden fear. Both hands fisted in his shirt, simultaneously pulling him closer and willing him away from me. God, what was I doing?
Then he was gone. An abrupt breeze filled the space where his body had pressed close to mine, raising goose bumps on my bare skin. It took a long moment for my mind to realize he had gone. My eyes focused slowly, searching, and found him across the room, draped elegantly across the bed.
"Find another way, Catherine."
A red storm of anger overtook me, filling me to the brim with rage. My fingers curled toward my palms, my nails digging small half-moons in my skin. "Why won't you help me?"
He was beside me again, and I stumbled in surprise. His arm snaked around my waist, steadying me. His lips brushed mine as he spoke. "I won't have you hate me. Not for this. Not for all eternity."
When I answered him, my words were flat, filled with sudden loathing. "If you don't help me now, if my sister dies because of you, I won't rest until I see you dead."
He stepped away, and something unidentifiable shone from his eyes. "I can live with that." He turned on his heel, his movements preternaturally quick, and strode from the room.
A sob burst from me, and I sank slowly to the floor, defeated.