Friday, September 4, 2015

Excerpt from WIP the Prince of Cups, sequel to the Queen of Swords

So...

Wow, I start a lot of sentences with that. SO ANYWAY, I should be finishing the last, very last, Dominating Her Man story, which is Dominating Her Billionaire, but I've tapped myself out of contemporary erotica. It's not the femdom... it's the ... boringness of contemporary fiction. And for the last I picked the absolutely most contemporary erotica genre ever: billionaires. I'm dragging my feet on it. Even my illustrator is like, "yeah, you're not finishing it" as he still has yet to get me the cover for it. >.>

I also should be working on the next Rock Hardin story, and it's plotted out! Outlined and everything. Yet my brain is not in the spy writing mode. So what have I been doing while dragging my feet? Working on two new series, plotting out a Halloween bundle, and working on The Prince of Cups, which is #2 in the Villainess series. That one has been coming out really smoothly and easily, and I'm 15,000 words into it already. I decided that it's been a while since I did an excerpt, and so here it is. I think it's terribly sexy, but there's no actual sex in it.
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    My hand and arm were still numb, but I forced myself to keep hold of my sword, using both hands as if it were a bastard sword. I lost some range, but gained speed with strikes using it this way, if the numbness didn’t fuck up my aim too much. He must have sensed my intention as the next strike forced me away from the mouth of the alley when I dodged. I lashed out with my teke, trying to trip him up, and knocked him back instead. With his momentary disorientation, I took to the skies again, reaching the top of the building. I inwardly gloated for a moment, reveling in the fight and that I’d lived… and then the lightning hit me. I shrieked, not prepared for it. I fell… and as before, cushioned my fall. Light danced through my eyes as I landed hard on the ground, even with the telekinetic cushioning.
    That was all it took. That’s how fast it was. You either had the upper hand or you didn’t, and I didn’t.
    Dazed, I tried to regain my feet, but he kicked away my blade and was on top of me. He ripped the mask off and cast it aside, tearing some of my hair out in the process. He grabbed my jaw and forced me to look directly into his reflective visor. “It is you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I knew it. It’s my lucky day.” He forced my head away so I couldn’t see him, which was smart. If I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t use my teke on him.
    “What am I to you?” I coughed out, looking around for anything to use. Electricity jolted through me. Pain raced through my body as I convulsed. I couldn’t even scream. Nothing was under my control, and when he lifted his hand, I could see wisps of smoke curling up from my face.
    “About a month ago,” the cop said, turning my face back to look at him, “my brother in law took something home from work, a sword. The next day, the criminal who it belonged to took it back from his house… and left my sister’s and nephew’s head on the mantle in return.” He leaned in and I could smell the minty gum he’d been chewing. “I was so hoping I’d run into you, some day.”
    Oops. Yet more fallout from that job. If I wasn’t regretting it before, I sure as hell was now. I tried to say something to defend myself, but his tasering had worked too well. All I could do was grunt. Feeling was coming back pretty fast, but I didn’t have regenerative powers. Even as I thought that, he zapped me again. I cried out, but it was an involuntary action, my body responding to the tasering. More smoke drifted up and away, and I blinked, trying to clear my head and make my body move.
    “It’s too bad you’re resisting arrest,” the cop said, but I could barely register his words. This was it. This was how I died. It wasn’t some big fight against overwhelming odds. It wasn’t some dramatic explosion. I died in an alley at the hands of a vengeful cop.
    He grabbed my aching jaw and centered me on him again, so I couldn’t help but to look at him. My brain was so fried at the moment, I couldn’t have used my telepathy even if I could get through his psychic defenses. If I lived through this, I would remember to smash helmets first, but it was looking like a pretty big if. “They never did anything to you,” he said, his gloved fingers tracing around the burn marks on my face. “You could have just taken it and gone.” Grief cracked his voice. If I had been a more normal person, I would have felt sympathy for him. Of course, if I had been normal, I wouldn’t have killed his family in the first place. “They weren’t metas. They weren’t anything… why? Why did you do it?”
    I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Everything hurt. The numbness from the tasering was wearing off, leaving behind aching agony in its wake. My vision swam, and I found it increasingly difficult to focus on his face. He knew it, and slapped me, hard. That helped me to focus a little, but I still couldn’t force words out. It was hard enough to just breathe. Instead of doing the smart thing and killing me, he kept talking.
    “People like you are what’s wrong with this world,” he said, tracing the burns along my face with a gloved finger. “I’m going to make sure you can’t hurt anyone else’s family ever again.” As he studied me, I got the sense he was looking into my deep blue eyes, looking for something… maybe a sign of remorse? Fear?
    Fuck that. I wasn’t going to give it to him. If this was it… if this was how I died… I’d do it my way.
    I worked my jaw slowly, and started to clear my throat. He tensed, waiting for whatever revelatory words I was going to speak. Instead of talking, I spat in his face and croaked a laugh. The spittle hit his visor and began to slide off as he recoiled. I couldn’t see anything more than his jaw and lips because of his Judge Dred-esque helmet, but I could read the surprise and distaste as his mouth twisted. “They were there,” I croaked.
    He raised his hand back, and I tensed, looking in myself for the last of my reserves. My head hurt too badly; the most I was able to do was push him back with a small wave of telekinesis. That was all, and it wasn’t enough.
    Blood sprayed over my face, and his jaw split in two. A brutal edge of metal shoved through the broken pieces of his face, twisted, and jerked out again roughly, sending bone, gore, and teeth flying. The carnage sprayed over me as the body fell to the side, and a new, cold body took its place.
    Nosferatu.
    The fallout from that last job was neverending… but at least this time it worked out in my favor. A massive guy crouched over me, not quite touching, his skin pale as sun bleached bone. His knees bent at an unnatural angle and the vampire held his rusty, serrated sword over his knees, cutting into the flesh of his stomach. If he felt it, he gave no sign. I didn’t even know if he could feel pain, but if he did, I knew he got off on it. His face was broad and ugly in almost every sense of the word, and his eyes glowed with a dull red light. He crouched further down, the leather of his vest brushing against mine with the softest of whispers. When our noses were almost touching, he began licking my face.
    Nosferatu was a partner of mine from time to time. During the last job, I’d made the questionable mistake of letting him bite me. Since then, his human half told me he could find me anywhere… and sure enough, I’d sense his presence outside some of my safe houses. He hadn’t come close to the pad itself, yet. He’d just stay somewhere nearby, in the shadows, watching and waiting. I admit when I sensed him around I flaunted myself, letting him see bare bits of skin oh so accidentally as I moved around my various homes. I couldn’t help but to flirt with danger; it was in my nature.
    His tongue licked the drops of blood off of my cheek, rasping slightly as if it were a dried out piece of leather. The numbness had faded enough that I could feel it on my skin, and it aggravated the ache which pervaded my entire being. The action turned the pain to a perverse pleasure. He completed his first lick, and smacked his lips together. Bending to my face, he licked again, his tongue more lubricated now so that it was like a cat’s tongue more than sandpaper, a rough sort of velvetyness that aroused me. He licked a wide swath of blood from my second cheek and my heart began to pound now as it hadn’t when the cop had me pinned. I wanted him. Even in the midst of the aches and pains, suffering from defeat, that was forgotten in an instant. I wanted this creature, and I think… I think if he would have taken me then and there, I would have just submitted.
    Instead, he continued to lick my face, tracing the curve of my lips with the tip of his tongue, wiping the blood from my face in the most intimate of ways imaginable. No part was left untouched; even my eyelids were licked, erasing every bit of the cop’s life blood from me. My chest heaved, and my breath came faster, anticipating his next move. Yet when he was done, he rocked back on his heels and watched me, an inscrutable expression on his face.
    “Nos,” I breathed.
    The vampire licked his lips, as if tasting the cop… or maybe me… as an afterthought. His head cocked first to the right, then the left, and I could sense from him--his mind wasn’t barred from my telepathy after all--that he was deciding what to do next. I never knew how aware he was of my presence, so I didn’t delve too deeply… just enough to get a sense of what he was feeling. As it was, I knew he could sense my desire, my want of him. His lips twisted cruelly, but still he sat there, not moving, nor speaking. I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me, that he wanted me as much as I wanted him, but more… he wanted me to give myself to him, and that was not going to happen.
    “You can let me up now,” I said, my voice growing in strength. I didn’t stress any word, nor put any inflection in my voice. The words were dead and cold.
    I could see he still hadn’t decided what to do next; there were too many things he wanted to do and he didn’t know where to start. I smiled and waited, and finally, he eased off of me, licking his lips. I sat up slowly, not showing any weakness to him, which was laughable. He’d seen me now at my worst, my weakest. How that changed his opinion of me I was almost afraid to see.  We stared at each other, shrouded in dead silence. I could hear the harshness of my breath over the dim sounds of traffic as we stared each other down. Just when I was about to open my mouth and break the silence, he turned violently and grabbed the dead cop. Yanking the body to him, he embraced it as a lover would and turned the neck so hard the spine broke. The head lolled at a bizarre angle. Nos’s dark red eyes bored into my blue ones as he opened his mouth wide, showing his yellowed, jagged teeth and bit down hard on the corpse’s neck. Instead of biting and sucking like vampires did in the movies, he ripped a chunk of flesh out and chewed it noisily. Once he swallowed that, then he bent to drink the sluggish blood which welled within the wound.
    I’d never seen him feed before. Since he was drinking from a dead man, he wasn’t really getting much blood; the heart wasn’t pumping. He was feeding like this as a display. I had no idea if this was his idea of a romantic gesture or he was merely showing me what he was in full. When the vampire bent again, he bit off another huge chunk of flesh, cracking the collarbone this time with a loud sickening snap. Savagely he tugged on the bone with his teeth, worrying it back and forth as a dog might until he was able to pull a segment of it out. He grabbed it for a moment, and sucked at the marrow, then cast the remaining shards away so he could feast on the blood and flesh once more.
    I didn’t thank him. That would be admitting weakness. I didn’t know what else to say, so I sat there and let the tasering wear off. The aches began to fade with time as well, and I kept up a small mental lock on the area, warding people off from the alley so we wouldn’t be disturbed. Nosferatu ate a large portion of the man’s neck and into his chest before he finally seemed sated and dropped the body where it was as he stood. When he stood, I did as well, not dropping my gaze for a second. As I watched, the shadows gathered around him, gaining weight and dripping darkness over him until he faded from view. His darkness trick didn’t cloak him from my telepathy though, and I knew he was still around. Very close.
    I heard the rasp of his harsh breath behind me, blowing cold air upon my neck. I kept my telepathy open wide to sense his intentions as early as I could. Was he going to attack? Was he back to watching? Desire and sated bloodlust, these I read easily. The thoughts behind it were harder to discern though. If he wanted to fuck, why didn’t he just grab me and try to take me? Rape wasn’t anything new to him, not that it would be in this case. He took what he wanted. The littlest bit of niggling doubt wormed into my head as I caught fragments of his thoughts. Nos knew I was aroused, knew I wanted him. He approved of me watching him eat without blinking an eye, and as a reward he was leaving me unmolested this evening… because I was his pet. I forced myself to just stand there as he inhaled my scent once more. I was not going to give him the indignant reaction he was expecting, knowing I was reading his mind. Sssso… very good…. he thought, and I could mentally see his lips quirk in dry amusement. Either way, I lost in this game: either he provoked me to outrage, or I stood and took the humiliation. My face burned. He had resc… sav… helped me, and I was forced to sit by and just take it.
    I was better than that. I should have been better than that.
    A stupid cop shouldn’t have bested me.

    Cold, dead fingers caressed my cheek from behind, and I startled, not expecting him to actually touch me. Oh so slowly he drew his taloned fingernails across my cheek, just shy of actually scratching the skin, and I wanted more. I would have asked for more had my pride not been wounded. A few seconds later, he vanished. I sensed him no longer in my immediate area, and my whole body relaxed. My emotions see sawed back and forth between anger, wounded pride, and lust, so I recentered myself. I had to get paid. The mark was dead, and I needed the cash. I picked up my broken mask and my sword. Using my phone, I took a picture of the dead accountant, and texted it to the contact. When I checked my account balance, the money had been sent. Nothing left to do there, I flew to one of my many homes.

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