Friday, May 27, 2011

#FridayFlash - Gloaming

This story was inspired by a Twitter conversation between Monica Marier and I. We had been discussing how Twilight has ruined the perception of vampires, and we both had interesting views on what real vampires would do in the wake of it. Here's my darker interpretation.

***


He tapped at her window, and Rosie beamed. Three nights in a row he’d come for her. Three nights he’d kept the nightmares at bay. Three nights her head had swelled and fallen for him.

“My darling one,” he whispered as she opened the window. He practically glowed under the moonlight, his expression intense, his eyes pale gold. Her very own angel, just like in her favorite books.

“Come inside, Edmund.” Rosie stepped aside, clutching the neck of her oversized tee. Heat rose to her cheeks as he poured himself into the room. Even his name was similar.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t walk you home,” he said, standing tall in the middle of her throw rug. Broad shoulders, long legs, and a steely he grip, it was impossible for her not to feel safe with him.

Rosie ducked her head, shuffling closer to her dark one. “I understand. The sun was out. No one can know.”

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, raising her gaze to his. “You’ve told no one of our love?”

All the blood rushed from her head, and Rosie nearly fainted. He put his other hand on her waist, steadying the teenager as she swayed, and every thought vanished. He’d said the word love. Their love.

“Just as you asked,” she managed around a thick tongue. Words were always hard in his perfect presence. She’d tried not to imagine being love by this god, but it had happened. “No one knows.”

Who would she tell? Her sister was married and having her second child. Her parents worked full time and were too stressed for normal conversation. Classmates ignored her as the dork. All she had were her books.

Until she met Edmund. In a few days, he had changed her entire world. A missed bus turned from annoyance to fortune when he’d seen her reading her battered copy of Gloaming. One long glance from tawny eyes, and she’d know what he was.

“Not everyone can see me for what I am,” he’d said. “You are a very special girl.”

Rosie didn’t feel she was special, didn’t know why he’d bother to speak to her. But he’d driven her home in his silver Volvo, then watched her sleep through her bedroom window.

Love at first sight could happen.

Glass shattered downstairs, and Rosie jumped. Her heart racing, she moved closer to her tormented protector. “What was that?” came her hushed query.

“That would be my pack.” His voice was like ice, his hands turning hard.

Wide-eyed, she stared at his suddenly narrowed eyes. “Pack?”

Pouting lips pulled back in a feral grin, revealing a row of sharp teeth. “Oh yes. They get your parents while I have you.” He began pushing her to the bed.

Rosie was too stunned to be scared, even when she heard her mom cry out. “Edmund, what are you doing?”

He tumbled her to the bed, forcing himself between her thighs. “You Gloam-tards always taste best once you think we’re in love. As if we could ever love our food.”

Rosie finally screamed when his gaping maw descended to her shoulder, her heart breaking.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Story - Keila and Varick - Favorite Feeding

This piece falls somewhere between PG-13 and R rated. It includes feeding, biting, bondage and submission, and maybe some other mildly dark themes. Just an erotic moment between my two lovebirds.


Friday, May 20, 2011

#FridayFlash - Prophet

“Spirits, are you there?” Candles pulsed in the aether, alerting them to his mental state. Absinthe and salvia extract opened the human mind to their world. Suppressing their sniggers, they approached.

Yes, we are here, Iggo replied in dulcet tones. He was the only one that could be heard by their target. The other imps gathered around him, jostling for position, each eager to provide their own suggestions to the “prophet”. What would you ask of us?

“I am asked about the war. Can you see the outcome?”


Aggo snorted, rolling bulbous eyes. “Boring. Too easy.”

Eggo clung to Iggo’s side. “Dare we tell him Lord Amatoth is controlling the human king>”

“Of course not,” Iggo snapped. “Someone might actually believe him if he started talking about demons.” He cleared his throat, thinking of an appropriately mysterious sounding answer. Only when the hind takes the field will the end be in sight. No lion shall conquer, though his paws crush all.

Aggo laughed. “You’re too good at this.” He slapped his knee, imagining the half-crazed human trying to understand the image. “Think he’ll get the heraldic meanings?”

“Why shouldn’t he,” Oggo asked, exasperated. “He’s not that stupid.”

“Yes he is!”

“You’re just biased against humans.” Oggo crossed his arms and turned away with a huff. Aggo sneered and stuck out his forked tongue.

“Can the invasion be stopped?”

Uggo sighed. “So focused on one little kingdom. I’m with Aggo; humans are stupid.”

Iggo chuckled. “Why do you think we play this game?”

“Because Master Be’al wants us to help control them” Eggo’s voice was tiny and timid, and he flinched when Aggo shot him a vicious glare.

“Ah, yes,” Iggo mused. “Duty.” He returned to the falsetto voice, providing the details their boss wanted known. Time invades all. The conqueror becomes the conquered. Yet a guardian waits in stone prison, capable of changing the tide.

“How will I find this guardian?”


“Best you don’t,” Oggo warned. “She’s not what you think.”

The candles began to fade, and the imps knew the prophet’s mind grew tired. They didn’t have time to play with him. Uggo swore. “Next time, convince him that diseased liver is a delicacy.”

Five stars mark the guardian. Habits will hide the way. Time has claimed many names, and conquerors have take their place. Release is only the beginning. The candles winked out.

With a groan, Aggo strolled away. “He’ll never figure it out.”

Iggo rubbed his hands together. “He’ll keep coming for clues, and never know who he’s freeing. They never should have locked Tyamet away.”

“Yeah,” Uggo added. “She’s gonna pissed when she sees what they’ve done to the planet.” The imps laughed as they parted.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Delightful feeding zones of #vampires

Vampirism is hotter than sex to me. The biting and feeding and passion are phenomenal. There's such dependence and trust between the partners, and it really riles me up. Which is part of why I write vampires; then I can play out some of the complex blood taking scenes going on in my head.

One thing that doesn't get talked about much is feeding spots. Let's discuss, shall we?

Neck - This one is kind of obvious. The most common feeding spot. Attractive in length and slenderness, it isn't given enough credit as a feature of beauty. Someone turns their head, and tendons and veins stand out, begging to be nibbled. Little hollows above and between the collarbones. So close to kissable lips, the perfect shape to fit in your teeth.

Wrists - So many lovely blood vessels pass through these joints.The inner skin sensitive, laced with little blue veins. The charming ulna bump guarding the border of hand and arm. Slender or strong, they are can be used to pin a person or set them free. With an arm's length between you and your lover, you can watch their face light with pleasure when you sip.

Inner elbow - The tender skin in the middle of the arm is just like biting into a peach; soft and giving, full of juice. One can nestle in for a long feed, teasing nerves with tongue, drinking from a strong vein.

Groin - Not the genitals of your lover, but that crook between them and inner thigh. The tendon there begs to be clenched between your teeth, holding you back from the femoral artery. Nerves cluster there, and your cheek will touch their sex. Hot and full of life, few places have quite the flavor of this secret place.

Where else do vampires feed that doesn't get enough attention?

Sunday, May 15, 2011

One of my hobbies

I'm a creative person, and that extends past my writing. My mom encouraged me to have hobbies and to do things from when I was a wee thing, and it's stuck with me.


Embroidery and crochet are some of my textile hobbies. And I love painting miniature gaming figures. But those will have to come up in a different post.




<--- These are some shoes I hand painted and have up for sale on my Etsy.






Why did I start painting shoes? Because a pair of shoes I wanted never got made, so I never got to have them. Instead of settling for something else, I decided to make my own. Then I could have exactly what I wanted, and it would be unique.

Fun stuff, huh?



So I turned my comfy Airwalks into walking pieces of art. Eye catching and different, they certainly stand out.

It's also something I can be commissioned to do. Check out the custom shoes in my Etsy for more details.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Another birthday to me

Yet another year older, and I don't feel it. Couldn't possibly be that time is passing. It's all a lie.

Thank you all for being here with me, for partaking in this storyteller's journey. It means bunches and bunches to me.

Friday, May 13, 2011

#movie and #television time

Of course you know by now how much I love movies. Watched quite a few lately, and most of them just weren't very good.

On the forefront of the suck is Fast 5, or Fast & Furious 5, whatever it was called. It was like a long, super boring, douchebag version of The Italian Job. And Vin Diesel was looking kind of old and fat, especially next to Dwayne Johnson. I mean, the Rock doesn't look as big as when he was wrestling, but he still looks huge. As for the car scenes, they were boring or totally fake. It might be enjoyable if you're a stoner gearhead, but I doubt it.

Also was I Am Number Four. Gag. Me. Twilight with aliens, and just as poorly conceived. Why do these teen heroes want to go to high school? School wasn't a neat place, or something to do. Especially not if you're an alien who needs to stay off the grid. Being in cities and going to schools are two big no-nos. Go seriously live off the grid and train your powers, and don't get caught by the monsters. And most teenage girls aren't that interesting, let alone risking your life to fall in love with.

The Eagle was much better when it was Centurion. 8P Other than a kind of nifty fight scene in the beginning, it was pretty boring, and poorly acted. I actually fell asleep during it, and have no desire to see what I missed. Nothing was compelling. Seriously, watch the Centurion instead.


If you haven't been watching Game of Thrones, you certainly should. Other than a few casting choices I disagree with, it's true to the book. Which makes for good epic TV.

Camelot is on Starz, and also a great series to watch. It's such a different take on the Arthurian cycle, and I really like that. Merlin is fantastic, and Morgan is just damn awesome. The set design and costume is wonderful to behold. All in all, a must see.

I also recommend The Borgias. One more period drama, this one starring Jeremy Irons. It's well done, and sometimes I have to stop and remember this is based on history. Which makes it even cooler.


So, who has recommendations for me?

#FridayFlash - Morrigana Tale - Arrogance

This is a little piece from my other main character, Morrigana. These are darker fantasy stories, with lots of blood and violence, rape and incest, love and magic.  I normally put together a little bit more of a scene, but wanted to keep this flash length to introduce you to my other girl.

***

"I hate you!" Morrigana snarled. The proceline tea set at Lord Shalafae's side rattled, but he continued reading.

"No, you do not." His voice was low and calm. The ancient Sidhehan looked youthful, crimson eyes half-lidded. A black velvet dressing fown clung to his lithe frame.

The half-dragon planted her booted feet, hands braced on her hips. "You sent that bitch Rivkah to kill the ambassador instead of me." Silver skin gleamed in the mage lights, her tail lashed violently around her ankles.

Lord Shalafae licked his finger and turned the page, ignoring the impatient hybrid. She began growling, and he arched a slender brow. "She is my head assassin. Of course I entrusted her with this mission."

Morrigana's growl increased, sensual lips pulled away from her sharp teeth. "I could have handled it."

"I'm sure you could have."

Her anger spiked. She lunged to close the distance and ripped the book from her father's hands. "Then why in all the hells didn't you send me?" Her voice rose an octave as she bellowed.

Shalafae burst to his feet, face mere inches from hers. Eyes narrowed, he hissed his response. "Because you're a petulant brat who should do as she's told."

The half-dragon girl was stunned, her anger on pause. Gulping, she whispered, "What do you mean?"

Morrigana was taller than Shalafae in her high heels, but his presence loomed over her, cold and powerful. "What word don't you understand?" She remained quiet. "Since you came back from training, you have been insufferable. Your arrogance knows no bounds, and you cry if you so much as break a nail. I needed someone dependable on this job, and that wasn't you."

Her anger surged back to life, and she bared fangs, lifting her clawed hands. "I don't cry."

Shalafae sneered, narrowing his eyes. "You can't even accept criticism."

Rage was natural to dragons, and even an unnatural hybrid could lose control. Morrigana shoved her father back, snarling, claws tearing at his shoulders. Blood welled, the scent hot and enticing, and she struck again.

He dodged back, using Chaos magic to dispell the furnishings. The Sidhehan only looked frail and delicate; Shalafae had eons of combat experience. Morrigana was ferocious and wild, strengthened by her rage, but she couldn't lay another talon on him.

The assassin howled in frustration. How could her father say sych mean things when she knew he cherished her dearly? Morrigana was his pride, his masterpiece, and she'd been passed up for some full-blooded Sidhehan bitch.

Shalafae danced away, making it seem effortless. He even yawned once, eyes indifferent.

Morrigana sobbed, biting her lip as she continued her attack. Tears blinded her more than her anger, and breathing became difficult. The hybrid's swings became less forceful, and she put less effort into keeping up with her father.

Finally, she stopped.

Closing her eyes, rationality returned to Morrigana. Lord Shalafae was right about her lack of control, about her arrogance, about Rivkah being more dependable. Somewhere along the way, Morrigana had given in to the sense of entitlement.

Shalafae wrapped his arms around her from behind. "It is not you that bothers me," he whispered, kissing her neck. "One attitude problem doesn't change your status. You know you're more than just an assassin to me, Daughter."

With a shuddering sigh, Morrigana tried to relax. She was conforted by his touch, warmed by his words. The entire outburst had been simply one more of his lessons. She would grow from it, and continue to shine for im.

"Of course you will." Shalafae held her tight, knowing the girl's heart and mind.

Everything he wanted to teach her, Morrigana would learn.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

New batch of #books I finished #amreading

Writing has taken more of my time than reading lately. But I have gotten some books under my belt recently.

There has been Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris. I'd been looking forward to it for a while, and was desperately hoping it wouldn't be as lame as the previous book. It ended up not being as bad, but yet there was more I disliked than I liked. It's also sad when I like the secondary characters more than the main character. Too many things went on, and the book seemed to be a hodge-podge of events that never became a whole. I was 40% into the book before I even had a clue which of the events was going to be the main plot. A couple events even made me wish I had a physical copy just so I could throw it. But I digress. I can no longer recommend this series.

Thanks to the Blog Tour de Force, I got a copy of Amber Scott's Fierce Dawn. A very intriguing book, with some awesome concepts. Immortals and mortals, and things in between. One of my favorite concepts is that vampires are any type of immortal addicted to human blood. And I felt true sympathy for the main character being labelled as crazy just for being different, and how it stained people's perceptions of her the rest of her life. The climax was a little brief, and the sex was a little one-dimensional, but the uniqueness of the world and the further plots to come overshadow all of that. This is captivating, an easy read, and well worth your time.

I got a copy of Raven's Kiss from Toni LoTempio. I liked most of her No Rest for the Wicca, so was eager to read this book. However, I had a really hard time getting through Raven's Kiss. Raven is an unlikeable bitch, and she's moody and mean without provocation. Her character is inconsistent in her anger and ability to cope. Plus there's problems with the writing itself. There's an entire scene that switches from first person to third person, and then back. Not just one line, but an entire scene. There are multiple punctuation errors, repeated and throughout the entire book. The action is bad, the pacing is bad, the end fight is bad, the entire book is bad. Do not read this.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Featured over at Indie Ink

So, my story Burning Times is featured over at IndieInk.Org today. Joy! I love the exposure.

Indie Ink has lots of great posts. I'm sure you'll find other things you will enjoy.

Friday, May 6, 2011

#FridayFlash - Blood Roses

Richard stared out the window at the rose garden. He was chilled despite the warm summer evening. The middle-aged man's thoughts were dark and heavy, torturing him.

I can't do it. Not again. This has to stop.

A gust of wind brought him the scent of roses, and he cringed. The heady aroma was thick with hunger, demanding relief. Leaves rustled louder than the wind could be responsible for.

They're hungrier sooner. Damn warmth put them in a growth cycle. Should go cut them down. Maybe burn them.

Even as Richard imagined the rose garden enveloped in flames, he knew it wouldn't work. The second to last caretaker had tried it and had been taken in his sleep. The roses knew not the meaning of forgiveness.

He could try running, like the last man. If he kept moving, they'd never find him. That was his mistake. He tried to put down roots. Roots are always the trap. They were the opening, and he was driven to suicide.

Richard knew about roots. About proper ties, not the monstrous limbs that pulsed with life and flicked like snake tongues. Not the gnarly tentacles that tore young women apart to feed their bizarre life.

No, he meant the roots of heart and family. The love of a wife and daughter. The need to be together, to fulfill their wants.

But those roots had dried up. The divorce had torn Richard apart. Three years since he'd seen his daughter. A year since he'd been desperate enough to take this job to try to win his family back.

This job raising flesh-eating roses.

Scent and rustling grew stronger, sending chills up Richard's spine. The roses had been getting closer to the house, staying more and more in their active state. They'd even begun showing the remains of their previous meals.

Fuck them! Cursed monstrosities. I won't be their puppet any more. Yet he didn't move away from the window. Leaving would require passing through the arbor and the heavy gate. The majority of the roses gathered at the gate, guarding the path. There was no escape. He'd have to suffer the onslaught of images from the demonic plants, sharing their hunger in his sleep, seeing the reminders of previous caretakers who had failed them.

It'll have to be fire. Burn them. Wound them long enough to get away. He swallowed hard. Or just wait for them to eat me. They'll never survive the trip to town.

But in his heart, he knew the remoteness wouldn't save people. It just delayed the curse, made for less accidents and questions. Given enough time, the plants would reach a population center, and would flourish with the massive influx of flesh and blood.

He would have to go out to find a victim for the blood roses.

Richard's phone rang, making him jump. His hand shook, but he answered it just for the distraction. "This place is so overgrown. Aren't you supposed to be a caretaker?" His ex-wife's voice was strident and derisive.

"You're here?" He couldn't believe his luck. He'd asked her here when he first took the job, but never expected her to show up.

"I wish I weren't. But I had this nightmare about you dying amongst the roses, and I couldn't get it out of my head. For Maggie's sake, I had to come out."

The solution to all his problems was in the driveway. She'd make a quick meal, something to tide over the roses until he could strengthen his resolve. "Please, come right up." Richard moved to the gate control, letting his ex in.

"Don't make me regret this." He heard her get out of the car. She'd step onto the path, and those vicious branches would snag her, pull her into their thorny embrace. Blood would spill, flesh would be sundered, and verdant demons would be sated.  The scent of rose grew stronger, and Richard began to laugh.

"Hi, Daddy!" his daughter yelled from the path. The roses rustled, laughing at him.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

"I thought your #vampires sparkled."

Talked about this with a few friends on Twitter on Monday, but I want to take the time to really expand my thoughts on the matter.

So, a coworker bought my books, has been reading and enjoying them. He told another coworker. She came up to me and said, "He says they're dark and twisted. I didn't know that. I thought your vampires, well... sparkled."

For a year, she's avoided reading my books because of what Twilight has wrought. How she got the impression I wrote about light and fluffy things, I don't know. I do have some stuffed animals on my desk, but they're dragons and Skelanimals and Gir. I have Orlando Bloom pictures, not a single Edward or Jacob. I've never been caught praising Twilight. NOTHING implies I'm that kind of girl.

Which means her statement offended me on two levels.

One level is that vampires are that watered down, that people are connecting vampire and Twilight in the same thought. The creatures in Twilight aren't vampires, and they're most certainly not what I like.

But on a deeper and more passionate level, I was offended because she never asked me about it. In a year of knowing I had books out, and knowing I write all the time, she never bothered to take the time to express her concerns. She LIKES monsters and vampires. I'd have given her such a rousing speech about why my stuff is worth reading...if I'd just known she had doubts. "I want to support a person I know, but I don't like sparklepires. She's writing about vampires, but it would take too much effort to confirm the species." Would have take all of two minutes of her life to find out All Hallows Blood is something she might like.

Kudos to me for not revealing any of my inner turmoil. I just smiled and nodded, and told her I can't stand Twilight. I didn't even blink when she said, "I'll have to look into them now." Because that's code for "not going to happen."

The day job is the worst place to make sales.

So, writers, has anything similar happened to you? Readers, ever been pleasantly surprised by an assumption being broken?