Jaime Rush's Blog - Posts Tagged "romantic-suspense"
Excerpt for my novella, The Darkness Within
THE DARKNESS WITHIN
A Novella, by Jaime Rush
CHAPTER 1
"The male victim, according to witnesses, was torn apart and gutted like an animal."
That line from the newscast drew Tucker Cane to the television, where the reporter shoved the microphone at a police officer and asked for more details.
"It looks like a wild animal attack, maybe wolf or panther. We can't comment until we know more. For now, we advise residents of the Las Vegas suburbs not to wander into the desert areas after dark and to be on alert."
From what Tucker could see in the churning colored lights and spotlights, the area looked like a typical suburban neighborhood.
A woman with tangled hair and wild eyes pushed her way to the camera. "It wasn't no wild animal! I saw it. The man that did this turned into smoke, and then a werewolf! I told the police, but they won’t listen. We have monsters here in Las Vegas! They’re going to get us all!"
An officer took the woman by the arms and led her away as she struggled and continued to rant.
Every hair on the back of Tucker's neck stood on end. He glanced to the kitchen and then the stairs going up. He already knew none of the D'Rats were home yet. Their cars had been absent from their various places in the driveway fifteen minutes earlier when he'd come home. He’d turned on the news and gone into the kitchen to grab a beer.
In the seven years since he'd found those who were like him, gathered them and cobbled together a family, Tucker was as close to a parental unit as they'd ever had. He tried not to be. What did he know about taking care of someone? He was only twenty-four, and he’d hardly had a parental role model himself. He did, however, know firsthand how shocking it was to discover how different you were, and the reason you had the skills you did.
He rewound the newscast to the part he'd missed while he'd been in the kitchen and watched from the beginning. The attack had occurred three hours earlier, the victim only identified as a male in his twenties. Apparently this had been news for a while now. They had already spoken with a biologist called to the scene, trying to determine what kind of animal would commit this act and how the fine citizens of Las Vegas could avoid being next.
Typical hype, but the attack didn't sound typical.
The biologist said, "We haven't seen an animal attack like this since the Las Vegas man who was mauled twenty-three years ago in a residential area."
"What kind of animal was responsible for that attack?"
"We couldn't make a determination due to lack of obvious evidence. We found no fur or distinguishable prints in the sand outside the house. The only thing we found, at both scenes, were bloody prints that appear to be paw prints. In this investigation, it’s still too early to rule out anything."
The hairs on Tucker's arms now joined the rest at attention. The man who was mauled back then was Del's father. Supposedly Tucker's father had killed him out of a fit of jealousy.
Del. Damn, the thought of her cut into his chest even now. He finished half his beer, pacing the living room. It hit Tuck then: the victim was a male in his twenties. He started calling the Desert Rats. One was on his way home; the other, on a date. Tuck told them to get their asses home, now.
The door banged open, and Darius wheeled inside. He'd been with the D'rats only three years, the newest member of the family. Tucker still didn't feel as though he knew him. The dude had been paralyzed in a car accident right before Tucker had found him. He wore his hair in a wavy, poufed style that reminded Tucker of a Fifties ‘do.
Darius spun his fancy new chair around and kicked the door closed. He grunted, the only greeting he was going to give Tucker obviously, as he headed to his room.
"Been running?" Tucker let those words hang, taking in the sheen of sweat on Darius's face, his damp hair at his neck.
Darius paused at the beginning of the hallway. "Yeah. Moon's not up until three."
Dark enough to camouflage him.
Tucker waved him over. "Come here. You need to see this."
Tucker played the newscast and watched Darius’s expression darken when the woman broke in with her hysterical account. Tucker paused at the end of the segment.
"We knew there might be others out there like us. The men responsible for what we are—our biological fathers—liked to visit prostitutes. Stands to reason our mothers weren't the only ones who got pregnant."
"I think it was a wild animal and that the crazy broad reads too many vampire and werewolf novels…with her heroin."
Tucker shook his head. "She said the guy turned to smoke first. That's not something a book-crazy woman's going to read about.”
Darius wheeled down the hall to his room and shut the door with his usual kick. It always sounded like an angry slam.
Tucker had heard that sound enough as a child.
He called the one female in their group and asked her to come over. Time for a meeting. He paced, hoping the others would come home soon. He supposed this was how a parent might feel, worrying about their kids, feeling the tightness coil around his chest. But it wasn’t only their safety that had him knotted up. What they harbored inside could render any of them mad, vicious … uncontrollable. He only knew it as Darkness. Either there was another person out there with it … or one of the D'Rats had gone mad. That was the possibility he feared most.
A Novella, by Jaime Rush
CHAPTER 1
"The male victim, according to witnesses, was torn apart and gutted like an animal."
That line from the newscast drew Tucker Cane to the television, where the reporter shoved the microphone at a police officer and asked for more details.
"It looks like a wild animal attack, maybe wolf or panther. We can't comment until we know more. For now, we advise residents of the Las Vegas suburbs not to wander into the desert areas after dark and to be on alert."
From what Tucker could see in the churning colored lights and spotlights, the area looked like a typical suburban neighborhood.
A woman with tangled hair and wild eyes pushed her way to the camera. "It wasn't no wild animal! I saw it. The man that did this turned into smoke, and then a werewolf! I told the police, but they won’t listen. We have monsters here in Las Vegas! They’re going to get us all!"
An officer took the woman by the arms and led her away as she struggled and continued to rant.
Every hair on the back of Tucker's neck stood on end. He glanced to the kitchen and then the stairs going up. He already knew none of the D'Rats were home yet. Their cars had been absent from their various places in the driveway fifteen minutes earlier when he'd come home. He’d turned on the news and gone into the kitchen to grab a beer.
In the seven years since he'd found those who were like him, gathered them and cobbled together a family, Tucker was as close to a parental unit as they'd ever had. He tried not to be. What did he know about taking care of someone? He was only twenty-four, and he’d hardly had a parental role model himself. He did, however, know firsthand how shocking it was to discover how different you were, and the reason you had the skills you did.
He rewound the newscast to the part he'd missed while he'd been in the kitchen and watched from the beginning. The attack had occurred three hours earlier, the victim only identified as a male in his twenties. Apparently this had been news for a while now. They had already spoken with a biologist called to the scene, trying to determine what kind of animal would commit this act and how the fine citizens of Las Vegas could avoid being next.
Typical hype, but the attack didn't sound typical.
The biologist said, "We haven't seen an animal attack like this since the Las Vegas man who was mauled twenty-three years ago in a residential area."
"What kind of animal was responsible for that attack?"
"We couldn't make a determination due to lack of obvious evidence. We found no fur or distinguishable prints in the sand outside the house. The only thing we found, at both scenes, were bloody prints that appear to be paw prints. In this investigation, it’s still too early to rule out anything."
The hairs on Tucker's arms now joined the rest at attention. The man who was mauled back then was Del's father. Supposedly Tucker's father had killed him out of a fit of jealousy.
Del. Damn, the thought of her cut into his chest even now. He finished half his beer, pacing the living room. It hit Tuck then: the victim was a male in his twenties. He started calling the Desert Rats. One was on his way home; the other, on a date. Tuck told them to get their asses home, now.
The door banged open, and Darius wheeled inside. He'd been with the D'rats only three years, the newest member of the family. Tucker still didn't feel as though he knew him. The dude had been paralyzed in a car accident right before Tucker had found him. He wore his hair in a wavy, poufed style that reminded Tucker of a Fifties ‘do.
Darius spun his fancy new chair around and kicked the door closed. He grunted, the only greeting he was going to give Tucker obviously, as he headed to his room.
"Been running?" Tucker let those words hang, taking in the sheen of sweat on Darius's face, his damp hair at his neck.
Darius paused at the beginning of the hallway. "Yeah. Moon's not up until three."
Dark enough to camouflage him.
Tucker waved him over. "Come here. You need to see this."
Tucker played the newscast and watched Darius’s expression darken when the woman broke in with her hysterical account. Tucker paused at the end of the segment.
"We knew there might be others out there like us. The men responsible for what we are—our biological fathers—liked to visit prostitutes. Stands to reason our mothers weren't the only ones who got pregnant."
"I think it was a wild animal and that the crazy broad reads too many vampire and werewolf novels…with her heroin."
Tucker shook his head. "She said the guy turned to smoke first. That's not something a book-crazy woman's going to read about.”
Darius wheeled down the hall to his room and shut the door with his usual kick. It always sounded like an angry slam.
Tucker had heard that sound enough as a child.
He called the one female in their group and asked her to come over. Time for a meeting. He paced, hoping the others would come home soon. He supposed this was how a parent might feel, worrying about their kids, feeling the tightness coil around his chest. But it wasn’t only their safety that had him knotted up. What they harbored inside could render any of them mad, vicious … uncontrollable. He only knew it as Darkness. Either there was another person out there with it … or one of the D'Rats had gone mad. That was the possibility he feared most.
Excerpt from Darkness Becomes Her
Jess waved her hand. "Go on, do whatever you were doing. Pretend I’m not here.”
Lachlan made a sound suspiciously like a grunt. “Then you’d better close your coat.”
She jammed the edges together, her cheeks warming at the cleavage she'd been showing, and quickly changed the subject. "The bruises. Did I do those?" She walked up to him, taking a closer look at the ugly purple bruises on his shoulder.
He looked at them. "You fight like a hellcat."
She couldn't help herself, reaching out and gently touching the skin next to the bruised area.
He flinched but didn't move away. "Don't touch me."
She met his gaze at the soft order. "Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
Her fingers barely grazed skin that had no bruising. She let her hand drop and walked to the place he’d indicated before.
He faced an imaginary opponent, bringing his sword around. He pretended to meet his enemy's sword, his blade pointing downward. Then, rotating the sword above his head, he delivered a fatal, slashing blow.
The sword was black metal, with what looked like a playing card’s spade at the base of the handle, and then a carved section of wood. What she thought were hand guards were angled toward the blade. The metal was pitted and looked forever old. He was liquid motion, steel strength, and she could see how he maintained his lean but muscular physique. Her chest tightened as she watched, and that odd sensual heat curled through her like tendrils of fire.
He ran toward the far wall as though he intended to barrel right through it. At the last second, he tucked his sword to his side and ran right up the wall, doing a complete flip until he landed on his feet again.
“Show off,” she said with a smile.
He slid her a look. “I’m pretending you’re not here, remember?”
“Oh … right.”
She'd put her hand to her chest, her fingers clutching the edges of the coat. If she watched him the whole hour he planned to be in here, she'd be a puddle on the floor. That every now and then he slid a glance her way made it even harder. She actually didn't get the sense he was showing off. Between those glances, he was focused, eyes as hard as the steel of his blade. He hated whoever he imagined as his opponent. Every thrust, every slash, carried the extra energy of that enmity.
"Who are you pretending to engage?" She followed his gaze to the mirror, seeing the recipient of that hatred.
He didn't answer, just gritted his teeth and kept fighting.
"You're fighting yourself, aren't you?"
He grunted, neither confirming nor denying.
He had gone beyond grief and self-recrimination to punishing himself with meditating in the cold, these brutal workouts, and that bare room. Cutting off his desires, a psychic castration.
But she had made him respond.
Lachlan made a sound suspiciously like a grunt. “Then you’d better close your coat.”
She jammed the edges together, her cheeks warming at the cleavage she'd been showing, and quickly changed the subject. "The bruises. Did I do those?" She walked up to him, taking a closer look at the ugly purple bruises on his shoulder.
He looked at them. "You fight like a hellcat."
She couldn't help herself, reaching out and gently touching the skin next to the bruised area.
He flinched but didn't move away. "Don't touch me."
She met his gaze at the soft order. "Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
Her fingers barely grazed skin that had no bruising. She let her hand drop and walked to the place he’d indicated before.
He faced an imaginary opponent, bringing his sword around. He pretended to meet his enemy's sword, his blade pointing downward. Then, rotating the sword above his head, he delivered a fatal, slashing blow.
The sword was black metal, with what looked like a playing card’s spade at the base of the handle, and then a carved section of wood. What she thought were hand guards were angled toward the blade. The metal was pitted and looked forever old. He was liquid motion, steel strength, and she could see how he maintained his lean but muscular physique. Her chest tightened as she watched, and that odd sensual heat curled through her like tendrils of fire.
He ran toward the far wall as though he intended to barrel right through it. At the last second, he tucked his sword to his side and ran right up the wall, doing a complete flip until he landed on his feet again.
“Show off,” she said with a smile.
He slid her a look. “I’m pretending you’re not here, remember?”
“Oh … right.”
She'd put her hand to her chest, her fingers clutching the edges of the coat. If she watched him the whole hour he planned to be in here, she'd be a puddle on the floor. That every now and then he slid a glance her way made it even harder. She actually didn't get the sense he was showing off. Between those glances, he was focused, eyes as hard as the steel of his blade. He hated whoever he imagined as his opponent. Every thrust, every slash, carried the extra energy of that enmity.
"Who are you pretending to engage?" She followed his gaze to the mirror, seeing the recipient of that hatred.
He didn't answer, just gritted his teeth and kept fighting.
"You're fighting yourself, aren't you?"
He grunted, neither confirming nor denying.
He had gone beyond grief and self-recrimination to punishing himself with meditating in the cold, these brutal workouts, and that bare room. Cutting off his desires, a psychic castration.
But she had made him respond.
Excerpt from Darkness Becomes Her
He flung out his hand, sending Darkness into a stream that pooled at his feet. He held an image in his mind, and the smoke formed into the shape of a Doberman pinscher. At a glance, it would seem like a normal dog. Only if one looked closely would they see that what looked solid was churning darkness. He created two more. The three stood at attention, facing their master.
"Find Jessie." He formed the image of Jessie in his mind, sending it to them.
Just like last time, they sped off, through the wall and into the night.
"Find Jessie." He formed the image of Jessie in his mind, sending it to them.
Just like last time, they sped off, through the wall and into the night.
Excerpt from Darkness Becomes Her
"Your brother and I never kissed."
"You must have." Lachlan had tortured himself with the image, all the while reminding himself that she was not his to want.
"Sorry to disappoint you. If it makes you feel better, we almost kissed, but I turned so that he kissed my cheek. I daydreamed about him. He's got a nice mouth, full, lush, with an intriguing cupid’s bow." She flicked a glance at his mouth. "Runs in the family, I see."
Did he imagine a spark in her eyes? "You wanted to kiss him."
She shrugged. "Sure, but not in an I'll-die-if-I-don’t way. I think about kissing any attractive guy who flirts with me. But there's no point in that kind of activity."
"That kind of activity?"
"Kissing. Touching." She met his gaze, licking her lips in an involuntary way that tightened his groin. "Making love. For me, anyway."
He mirrored her action, chastising himself for focusing on the way her mouth had wrapped around the words making love and drawn them out. "Why not?"
"The Darkness, of course." That came out a whisper laced with fear. "Intense emotions triggers it. I've heard having sex is intense, at least when it's done right. I’d be terrified of Becoming in the middle of a mind-bending orgasm.”
He banked the fire that rose from his chest into his eyes, afraid if he opened his mouth something inappropriate would come tumbling out. Kiss me. Touch me.
She went on, her eyes taking on a heavy, sleep look. "I’ve heard you can lose your mind. The slide of bodies against each other, the way I'd feel when the right man filled me." Her gaze slid down his chest, and he felt it tingle across the breadth of his shoulders. She fixed it there and seemed to pull herself from the vision of what she was talking about. "I can't lose my head. Ever. Because if I Become Darkness, I could kill you." She drew her gaze back to his. "I mean, you in a general way, of course."
"Of course." The words came out gritty. He'd felt her words, and their bodies gliding against each other, his cock filling her. It was growing even now, and would be damned obvious in his skivvies.
Her eyes went soft and heavy again as she looked at his mouth. "I don't want to kiss Magnus anymore."
He could hardly breathe. "No?"
"I want to kiss you."
"You must have." Lachlan had tortured himself with the image, all the while reminding himself that she was not his to want.
"Sorry to disappoint you. If it makes you feel better, we almost kissed, but I turned so that he kissed my cheek. I daydreamed about him. He's got a nice mouth, full, lush, with an intriguing cupid’s bow." She flicked a glance at his mouth. "Runs in the family, I see."
Did he imagine a spark in her eyes? "You wanted to kiss him."
She shrugged. "Sure, but not in an I'll-die-if-I-don’t way. I think about kissing any attractive guy who flirts with me. But there's no point in that kind of activity."
"That kind of activity?"
"Kissing. Touching." She met his gaze, licking her lips in an involuntary way that tightened his groin. "Making love. For me, anyway."
He mirrored her action, chastising himself for focusing on the way her mouth had wrapped around the words making love and drawn them out. "Why not?"
"The Darkness, of course." That came out a whisper laced with fear. "Intense emotions triggers it. I've heard having sex is intense, at least when it's done right. I’d be terrified of Becoming in the middle of a mind-bending orgasm.”
He banked the fire that rose from his chest into his eyes, afraid if he opened his mouth something inappropriate would come tumbling out. Kiss me. Touch me.
She went on, her eyes taking on a heavy, sleep look. "I’ve heard you can lose your mind. The slide of bodies against each other, the way I'd feel when the right man filled me." Her gaze slid down his chest, and he felt it tingle across the breadth of his shoulders. She fixed it there and seemed to pull herself from the vision of what she was talking about. "I can't lose my head. Ever. Because if I Become Darkness, I could kill you." She drew her gaze back to his. "I mean, you in a general way, of course."
"Of course." The words came out gritty. He'd felt her words, and their bodies gliding against each other, his cock filling her. It was growing even now, and would be damned obvious in his skivvies.
Her eyes went soft and heavy again as she looked at his mouth. "I don't want to kiss Magnus anymore."
He could hardly breathe. "No?"
"I want to kiss you."
Random sexy lines from Darkness Becomes Her
She was still standing there, looking delicious and flushed and a bit piqued. "You got off?"
Well, he could hardly hide it. "I didn't mean to. A man can only take so much. What happened to the nice, simple kiss?"
She jammed the shirt down over her head, catching her nose for a second. Her hair was adorably messed when she yanked her head free. "Still, a kiss is just a kiss. It shouldn't do … that to you." She gestured to the region of his pelvis.
"It wasn’t just the kiss. That revved me, sure, and then you did a … wiggle thing."
"I didn't wiggle."
"Aye, you did. Like this." He imitated it as best as he could. "Then you did a grind." Just the word conjured it up again. "And that did it."
Well, he could hardly hide it. "I didn't mean to. A man can only take so much. What happened to the nice, simple kiss?"
She jammed the shirt down over her head, catching her nose for a second. Her hair was adorably messed when she yanked her head free. "Still, a kiss is just a kiss. It shouldn't do … that to you." She gestured to the region of his pelvis.
"It wasn’t just the kiss. That revved me, sure, and then you did a … wiggle thing."
"I didn't wiggle."
"Aye, you did. Like this." He imitated it as best as he could. "Then you did a grind." Just the word conjured it up again. "And that did it."
RANDOM LINES FROM DRAGON AWAKENED
"I’m magnificent. Yeah." She couldn't help glance down at herself. "Fine, how do I get … what'd you call it? Activated?" Let's play along, see what he says.
"Now that you are well beyond the age of initiation, only I can open your eyes and awaken your powers."
Did his arrogance know no bounds? Dumb question, Ruby. "What do I have to give you for that?"
"You assume there's a price?"
"There's always a price." She could see that he had one, too.
He walked closer, too close. Again, breaching boundaries. She wouldn't move away. If only she didn't have to look up at him. His heat reached out to her, beckoning her. She stiffened her stance. The dragon tattoo eyed her from the left pectoral muscle of his chest, but no, she did not see it move.
He waited until she drew her gaze from it back to his face. "The price is that once you see, you can never go back to being blind. Once you know, you can never forget. Once you experience your true nature, you can never ignore it."
"Ignore what?"
He released a breath. "We'd better start with the small stuff."
"Now that you are well beyond the age of initiation, only I can open your eyes and awaken your powers."
Did his arrogance know no bounds? Dumb question, Ruby. "What do I have to give you for that?"
"You assume there's a price?"
"There's always a price." She could see that he had one, too.
He walked closer, too close. Again, breaching boundaries. She wouldn't move away. If only she didn't have to look up at him. His heat reached out to her, beckoning her. She stiffened her stance. The dragon tattoo eyed her from the left pectoral muscle of his chest, but no, she did not see it move.
He waited until she drew her gaze from it back to his face. "The price is that once you see, you can never go back to being blind. Once you know, you can never forget. Once you experience your true nature, you can never ignore it."
"Ignore what?"
He released a breath. "We'd better start with the small stuff."
Yin Yang novellas
DRAGON RISING (novella, The Hidden) Clues left by her missing father lead Lyra to a gorgeous, mysterious Caido, a descendent of fallen angels. When she discovers that his brother is also missing, she's determined not to let the exasperating man shut her out.
The last thing Archer needs is an emotional Dragon at his side, especially one whose heat reaches beyond the icy walls he, and all Caidos, erect for good reason. Working together? Smart. Falling in love? Foolish … and inescapable.
~ Posted at Booklovin’ Mamas Blog~
DRAGON RISING completes the yin/yang novella duo that started with DRAGON MINE. I liked the idea and the challenge of coming up with stories that stood alone, yet connected as well. I started with twin brother/sister duo Kirin and Lyra, Dragon shifters who have one problem: finding their missing father. But I wanted them each to take their own direction, and find their own romance in the process. I admit it was a bit of a risk, because I wondered if readers would dislike not knowing the answer to all the story questions by the end of the first novella. It was also a challenge, because I had to wrap up their romance fully, solve at least one plot thread, while still leaving something for Lyra to figure out in her story. The intention was that both stories would be published close together so readers would get their answers quickly.
Unfortunately, as happens in the publishing world, the novellas actually got moved two months farther apart. And for a while, DRAGON RISING wasn’t listed anywhere, so readers thought they would have to wait until the first full book of the Hidden, out in December, to find out the resolution of the story. But I’m excited to announce that they will find out on October 1st. Lyra will end up solving the final mystery of her father’s disappearance, along with a few threads started in the first novella. Everything will be wrapped up, except for one small thread that will lead to the arc in the three back-to-back books beginning with DRAGON AWAKENED. And having read these novellas, you will have that bit of insider “ahah” when you read ANGEL SEDUCED.
Did I make myself crazy with these interconnected plots? Yes. Yes, I did. But rest assured, dear reader, that each of the three books coming out this winter all stand alone. Because you’ve read this blog, you’ll know that they do share a overreaching arc. The only crazy-making going on was me in the background with my charts and timelines having to make it all work out.
The last thing Archer needs is an emotional Dragon at his side, especially one whose heat reaches beyond the icy walls he, and all Caidos, erect for good reason. Working together? Smart. Falling in love? Foolish … and inescapable.
~ Posted at Booklovin’ Mamas Blog~
DRAGON RISING completes the yin/yang novella duo that started with DRAGON MINE. I liked the idea and the challenge of coming up with stories that stood alone, yet connected as well. I started with twin brother/sister duo Kirin and Lyra, Dragon shifters who have one problem: finding their missing father. But I wanted them each to take their own direction, and find their own romance in the process. I admit it was a bit of a risk, because I wondered if readers would dislike not knowing the answer to all the story questions by the end of the first novella. It was also a challenge, because I had to wrap up their romance fully, solve at least one plot thread, while still leaving something for Lyra to figure out in her story. The intention was that both stories would be published close together so readers would get their answers quickly.
Unfortunately, as happens in the publishing world, the novellas actually got moved two months farther apart. And for a while, DRAGON RISING wasn’t listed anywhere, so readers thought they would have to wait until the first full book of the Hidden, out in December, to find out the resolution of the story. But I’m excited to announce that they will find out on October 1st. Lyra will end up solving the final mystery of her father’s disappearance, along with a few threads started in the first novella. Everything will be wrapped up, except for one small thread that will lead to the arc in the three back-to-back books beginning with DRAGON AWAKENED. And having read these novellas, you will have that bit of insider “ahah” when you read ANGEL SEDUCED.
Did I make myself crazy with these interconnected plots? Yes. Yes, I did. But rest assured, dear reader, that each of the three books coming out this winter all stand alone. Because you’ve read this blog, you’ll know that they do share a overreaching arc. The only crazy-making going on was me in the background with my charts and timelines having to make it all work out.
Snippet - DRAGON AWAKENED
Ruby tried to kick him in the groin. Another dumb idea, considering what she'd seen him do, what he did for a living.
He didn't hurt her, at least, not much anyway. He did, however, pin her against the door, his thigh pressing the offending leg tight. "That is not a wise thing to do."
She lifted her chin. "Afraid I'll hurt you?"
"Once my instincts are triggered, it's hard to stop. I'm sure I'll hurt you. As of right now, I do not wish to do that. That may change as days go by."
"Days? What are you going to do, keep me hostage?"
He let her question hang for an agonizing moment, as though he were considering it. God, had she given him ideas? He said,
"Not entirely."
He didn't hurt her, at least, not much anyway. He did, however, pin her against the door, his thigh pressing the offending leg tight. "That is not a wise thing to do."
She lifted her chin. "Afraid I'll hurt you?"
"Once my instincts are triggered, it's hard to stop. I'm sure I'll hurt you. As of right now, I do not wish to do that. That may change as days go by."
"Days? What are you going to do, keep me hostage?"
He let her question hang for an agonizing moment, as though he were considering it. God, had she given him ideas? He said,
"Not entirely."
How a character can change/writing process
This was originally posted at the Bitten By Reviews
Sometimes authors see a scene or a character before they know much about the book that’s poking at them to be written. Ruby Salazaar, from DRAGON AWAKENED, came to me in full color … but she changed during the process of story planning. I thought it would be fun to share my original version of her, along with a peek at who she ended up being, with my friends here at Bitten by Reviews.
OLD OPENING:
Ruby felt the hand grab her ass as she walked past the table covered in empty beer and shot glasses. John Jr. was obviously trying to impress his friends. She stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath before turning to lance him with the look of death.
"I'm sorry, sweet Ruby, I jus' can't help myself when that tight, round ass of yours goes saunterin' by."
She didn’t recognize the two other men at the table. She ran Jake's Bar and only waited tables when necessary. "I guess you forgot about that broken finger you got last time you grabbed my sweet ass." She gave him a forced smile that bled maliciousness and crooked her finger. "Shall I remind you?"
He yanked his hand back. Then he looked at his friends and tried to laugh it off. "She's kidding. Such a kidder. Woman's got a body to taunt and a mouth to torment a man."
"She don't look like she's kidding," the beefy one with his shoe propped on the edge of the scarred table said. At the very moment she thought he looked familiar, his eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. Ruby? Ruby Salazaar?"
It clicked. "Tommy Canton."
"I'll be darned. I went to middle school with this here girl." He pushed to his feet and approached her like he was going to give her a hug.
She put her hands up to ward him off. "You are not to going to hug me like we're long lost friends. Unless you count cutting off my braid, gluing my books together, and leaving me with more bruises than Mary Lou Petroski had hickeys as friendship."
He chuckled. "You still got that braid, too. Always thought it was the color of honey." When she glared at the hand that was reaching out to touch that braid, he dropped his hands to his side. "Aw, come on. That was a long time ago."
"Sixteen years isn't long enough to forget the torment."
He slumped back into his seat. "I only did it 'cause your uncle paid me to."
She was sure her eyebrows jumped to her hair line. "What?"
"You didn't know? He got Jimmy and Bosley to do it, too. Five bucks a week, something about making you stronger for it. Five bucks was a lot of money to a twelve year old. Truth was, I thought you were a spitfire, a cute one at that. Guess I went a little too far, huh?"
She walked away, stunned and yet, suspicious. Still, why would he make up something like that? It sounded like something her uncle might pull, eccentric that he was. But why?
Jake was wiping glasses behind the bar. The reformed alcoholic who owned a bar. His paunch wasn't from beer, that was for sure. "They giving you a hard time?" he asked, not looking particularly concerned. He knew she could handle herself. That's why he paid her so much to stick around when all the other bar babes hit the road after a few months. Once he'd even admitted that the guys came here because she hit back, either with fists or with her smart mouth. She was fricking entertainment. She earned every penny of her overblown salary.
He set down one glass hard on the counter, his watery gaze on her. "Uh oh. You got that look again, the one that costs me money."
The look that said she'd had it. Every time, he bribed her with a salary raise, and she hated to admit she sold out. Problem was, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Teaching women self-defense at the gym was the only thing that sparked her soul, but she didn't think it would pay money enough to sustain her hotdogs and canned chili lifestyle. Besides, she liked doing it for free.
The phone rang, and Jake snatched it up in his fat hand. "Jake's Bar … Sure, she's right here." He thrust it at her and mouthed, It's your uncle.
"Were your ears ringing?" she asked to the mouthpiece, skipping right past hello.
"Ruby, I've got trouble."
"Did you piss off one of your new neighbors already? I told you not to hang the magic artifacts all over the yard. Creeps them out."
"It's more than that." He sounded breathless, and the tone in his voice stiffened her body.
"What?"
"She's found us, and there are things I have to tell you."
"She? Who's she?"
"I need you to come to the house now."
Her throat tightened. "Okay. I'll be there in about forty minutes."
His last words were, "Speed."
I wasn’t particularly sold on Ruby being a bar manager, and while I wanted her to be tough, I thought she was a bit too rough in this version. I mean, really, breaking a man’s fingers? Interestingly, I have no idea who the ‘she’ is that her uncle is referring to either.
This is how the opening ended up:
Ah, the smell of fresh paint in the morning.
Ruby stepped out of the office and squinted at the sun reflecting off the windshield of a ’57 Chevy. For a few seconds, a bright mark marred everything she saw, including the Gottlieb Grand Slam 1953 pinball machine that was farther along in the restoration process. Beyond that, five acres filled with memories of climbing cars, dismantling bicycles, and the sound of her mom calling, “Ruby, get off there. You’re going to fall and crack your head open!” To an adventurous seven-year-old: annoying. Now, a sound she’d kill to hear again.
What she didn’t see was her business partner. Typical. She stalked across the gravel, searching the sections of vintage toys, old signage, and then Coca-Cola machines for him.
“Seen Nevin?” she asked Jack, her expert on motorcycle restoration.
He nodded toward the back. “Chewing the fat with a friend.”
“Augh.”
Jack hefted his wrench. “Want me to bust his chops, Miz Ruby? I’ll kick his ass all over the place…if you’ll pardon my French.”
“That’s not French,” she said, trying to ignore the “Miz Ruby” that he wouldn’t stop calling her, along with his flirtatious smile. “Thanks, but he’s my problem.”
She continued on to Nevin’s disorganized side of the yard and found him leaning against one of his junk sculptures, laughing it up with some guy.
“Nevin.” She kept her gaze on him, plastering on a pleasant-but-fake smile for his friend’s benefit. “Our client is picking up the Wayne gas pump at the end of the week, the one that doesn’t look anywhere near ready.”
Nevin rubbed his belly where his shirt rode up and exposed pale, flabby flesh. “You’re good at finding deals and making old stuff look new again.” He gestured to the roof of a 1976 Cadillac Fleetwood he’d fashioned into a table. “How ’bout you do the resto stuff and let me focus on my art?”
“Resto is paying the bills. You haven’t sold one piece yet.”
“Aw, Ruby, you said business is good. Can’t we take it easy for a bit?”
No, she needed to push herself, to fill some need for…something. Her pseudo-uncle Moncrief inherited the Yard, along with her, when her parents were killed in a boating accident fifteen years ago. Because he traveled often performing his magic shows, he couldn’t deal with running the Yard. Ruby had sobbed at the prospect of losing the last tangible tie to her mom, so he made a deal with Nevin’s parents: a half share for managing it.
After graduating high school, she wrested control from Nevin’s father, who proved that being a lovable lackey was in his gene pool. When he passed, Nevin’s mom insisted he step in, hoping to give him direction. He’d been one of the early strays Ruby attracted. While she had the kind of affection one might have for a dumb-but-sweet cousin, she wasn’t going to let him run the business into the ground like his father nearly did.
The man with Nevin said, “Ruby Salazaar, don’t you recognize me?” The wiry guy in a white cotton T and faded jeans gave her an expectant smile. Smoke trailed from the cigarette clamped between his fingers.
“Leo Canton?”
He looked nothing like the afro-haired kid whose parents were part of Mon’s touring troupe. His hair was trimmed short now, round glasses gone. “Been a long time.” He approached her with outstretched arms.
She warded him off. “You are not going to hug me like we’re long-lost friends. Unless you count cutting off my braid and terrorizing me as friendship, which I do not.”
He chuckled, dropping the cigarette and grinding it into the gravel with his heel. “You still got a braid.” His gaze followed it all the way down to her rear. “The color of honey. You nailed me good after I cut it off. I had that black eye for weeks.”
“You deserved every hour of it.” She’d pounded him, the rage so overwhelming it scared her. She pointed to the cigarette. “Didn’t you see the sign? Anyone who drops his butts has to pick them up and put a dollar into the ‘Jar of Bad Behavior.’ Which I use for the cat neuter fund.” She nodded toward two kittens who were racing over to rub against Leo’s ankles.
Leo pulled out his wallet and handed her a fiver. “Still feisty as ever, and a hell of a lot stronger.” He had the gall to clamp his hand over her biceps but pulled away at the murderous glare she gave him.
Nevin made a tsking sound. “She hates to be touched, dude. Some guy grabbed her buttocks once, and she dropped him right to the ground. Dude clutched his cojones all the way outta here, yowling like a girl.” His pride warmed her heart.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Leo slumped back against the car and crossed his arms over his chest. “You did get the best training on attack and evade, thanks to me.”
“You mean the Hunter/Prey game you and Jimmy used to force me into playing?” The two would start hunting her, prowling the tour buses or the stage equipment. She was always the reluctant prey. Except something inside her actually liked it while the rest of her hated it.
He shrugged. “We only did it ’cause your uncle paid us to.”
“What?”
Leo plucked a kitten from midway up his pant leg and set it down. “Five bucks a week. Skills building, he called it.”
“You’re serious?”
“Your uncle did things to protect you. He was super paranoid for some reason.” He peered into her eyes. “You still don’t…” He clamped his mouth shut and waved as he sauntered off. “Nevin, gimme a shout if you find the part for my truck.”
“I still don’t what?” she called after him.
“Have a sense of humor,” Leo said, though she knew that wasn’t what he was going to say.
She pinned Nevin with a glare. “Is this true, about Mon paying kids to torment me?”
He assumed the blank look of the guilty.
Her cell phone rang. “Speak of the devil.” She skipped right past hello. “Were your ears ringing? I’ve got—”
“Ruby, there’s trouble.”
“Did you piss off your new neighbors already? I told you not to hang those weird artifacts all over your front porch. Creeps people out.”
“No, big trouble, ducky. Get over here, quick. There are things I have to tell you, things I should have told you long ago.”
Her throat tightened at the agony in his voice. “Be there in about forty minutes.”
“Speed.”
Watching American Restoration inspired Ruby’s new career. I wanted her to be doing something that meant a lot to her rather than having a job she detested. The resto yard plays in a few scenes, and I liked all the props I could use, especially when a big monster comes to play!
Sometimes authors see a scene or a character before they know much about the book that’s poking at them to be written. Ruby Salazaar, from DRAGON AWAKENED, came to me in full color … but she changed during the process of story planning. I thought it would be fun to share my original version of her, along with a peek at who she ended up being, with my friends here at Bitten by Reviews.
OLD OPENING:
Ruby felt the hand grab her ass as she walked past the table covered in empty beer and shot glasses. John Jr. was obviously trying to impress his friends. She stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath before turning to lance him with the look of death.
"I'm sorry, sweet Ruby, I jus' can't help myself when that tight, round ass of yours goes saunterin' by."
She didn’t recognize the two other men at the table. She ran Jake's Bar and only waited tables when necessary. "I guess you forgot about that broken finger you got last time you grabbed my sweet ass." She gave him a forced smile that bled maliciousness and crooked her finger. "Shall I remind you?"
He yanked his hand back. Then he looked at his friends and tried to laugh it off. "She's kidding. Such a kidder. Woman's got a body to taunt and a mouth to torment a man."
"She don't look like she's kidding," the beefy one with his shoe propped on the edge of the scarred table said. At the very moment she thought he looked familiar, his eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. Ruby? Ruby Salazaar?"
It clicked. "Tommy Canton."
"I'll be darned. I went to middle school with this here girl." He pushed to his feet and approached her like he was going to give her a hug.
She put her hands up to ward him off. "You are not to going to hug me like we're long lost friends. Unless you count cutting off my braid, gluing my books together, and leaving me with more bruises than Mary Lou Petroski had hickeys as friendship."
He chuckled. "You still got that braid, too. Always thought it was the color of honey." When she glared at the hand that was reaching out to touch that braid, he dropped his hands to his side. "Aw, come on. That was a long time ago."
"Sixteen years isn't long enough to forget the torment."
He slumped back into his seat. "I only did it 'cause your uncle paid me to."
She was sure her eyebrows jumped to her hair line. "What?"
"You didn't know? He got Jimmy and Bosley to do it, too. Five bucks a week, something about making you stronger for it. Five bucks was a lot of money to a twelve year old. Truth was, I thought you were a spitfire, a cute one at that. Guess I went a little too far, huh?"
She walked away, stunned and yet, suspicious. Still, why would he make up something like that? It sounded like something her uncle might pull, eccentric that he was. But why?
Jake was wiping glasses behind the bar. The reformed alcoholic who owned a bar. His paunch wasn't from beer, that was for sure. "They giving you a hard time?" he asked, not looking particularly concerned. He knew she could handle herself. That's why he paid her so much to stick around when all the other bar babes hit the road after a few months. Once he'd even admitted that the guys came here because she hit back, either with fists or with her smart mouth. She was fricking entertainment. She earned every penny of her overblown salary.
He set down one glass hard on the counter, his watery gaze on her. "Uh oh. You got that look again, the one that costs me money."
The look that said she'd had it. Every time, he bribed her with a salary raise, and she hated to admit she sold out. Problem was, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Teaching women self-defense at the gym was the only thing that sparked her soul, but she didn't think it would pay money enough to sustain her hotdogs and canned chili lifestyle. Besides, she liked doing it for free.
The phone rang, and Jake snatched it up in his fat hand. "Jake's Bar … Sure, she's right here." He thrust it at her and mouthed, It's your uncle.
"Were your ears ringing?" she asked to the mouthpiece, skipping right past hello.
"Ruby, I've got trouble."
"Did you piss off one of your new neighbors already? I told you not to hang the magic artifacts all over the yard. Creeps them out."
"It's more than that." He sounded breathless, and the tone in his voice stiffened her body.
"What?"
"She's found us, and there are things I have to tell you."
"She? Who's she?"
"I need you to come to the house now."
Her throat tightened. "Okay. I'll be there in about forty minutes."
His last words were, "Speed."
I wasn’t particularly sold on Ruby being a bar manager, and while I wanted her to be tough, I thought she was a bit too rough in this version. I mean, really, breaking a man’s fingers? Interestingly, I have no idea who the ‘she’ is that her uncle is referring to either.
This is how the opening ended up:
Ah, the smell of fresh paint in the morning.
Ruby stepped out of the office and squinted at the sun reflecting off the windshield of a ’57 Chevy. For a few seconds, a bright mark marred everything she saw, including the Gottlieb Grand Slam 1953 pinball machine that was farther along in the restoration process. Beyond that, five acres filled with memories of climbing cars, dismantling bicycles, and the sound of her mom calling, “Ruby, get off there. You’re going to fall and crack your head open!” To an adventurous seven-year-old: annoying. Now, a sound she’d kill to hear again.
What she didn’t see was her business partner. Typical. She stalked across the gravel, searching the sections of vintage toys, old signage, and then Coca-Cola machines for him.
“Seen Nevin?” she asked Jack, her expert on motorcycle restoration.
He nodded toward the back. “Chewing the fat with a friend.”
“Augh.”
Jack hefted his wrench. “Want me to bust his chops, Miz Ruby? I’ll kick his ass all over the place…if you’ll pardon my French.”
“That’s not French,” she said, trying to ignore the “Miz Ruby” that he wouldn’t stop calling her, along with his flirtatious smile. “Thanks, but he’s my problem.”
She continued on to Nevin’s disorganized side of the yard and found him leaning against one of his junk sculptures, laughing it up with some guy.
“Nevin.” She kept her gaze on him, plastering on a pleasant-but-fake smile for his friend’s benefit. “Our client is picking up the Wayne gas pump at the end of the week, the one that doesn’t look anywhere near ready.”
Nevin rubbed his belly where his shirt rode up and exposed pale, flabby flesh. “You’re good at finding deals and making old stuff look new again.” He gestured to the roof of a 1976 Cadillac Fleetwood he’d fashioned into a table. “How ’bout you do the resto stuff and let me focus on my art?”
“Resto is paying the bills. You haven’t sold one piece yet.”
“Aw, Ruby, you said business is good. Can’t we take it easy for a bit?”
No, she needed to push herself, to fill some need for…something. Her pseudo-uncle Moncrief inherited the Yard, along with her, when her parents were killed in a boating accident fifteen years ago. Because he traveled often performing his magic shows, he couldn’t deal with running the Yard. Ruby had sobbed at the prospect of losing the last tangible tie to her mom, so he made a deal with Nevin’s parents: a half share for managing it.
After graduating high school, she wrested control from Nevin’s father, who proved that being a lovable lackey was in his gene pool. When he passed, Nevin’s mom insisted he step in, hoping to give him direction. He’d been one of the early strays Ruby attracted. While she had the kind of affection one might have for a dumb-but-sweet cousin, she wasn’t going to let him run the business into the ground like his father nearly did.
The man with Nevin said, “Ruby Salazaar, don’t you recognize me?” The wiry guy in a white cotton T and faded jeans gave her an expectant smile. Smoke trailed from the cigarette clamped between his fingers.
“Leo Canton?”
He looked nothing like the afro-haired kid whose parents were part of Mon’s touring troupe. His hair was trimmed short now, round glasses gone. “Been a long time.” He approached her with outstretched arms.
She warded him off. “You are not going to hug me like we’re long-lost friends. Unless you count cutting off my braid and terrorizing me as friendship, which I do not.”
He chuckled, dropping the cigarette and grinding it into the gravel with his heel. “You still got a braid.” His gaze followed it all the way down to her rear. “The color of honey. You nailed me good after I cut it off. I had that black eye for weeks.”
“You deserved every hour of it.” She’d pounded him, the rage so overwhelming it scared her. She pointed to the cigarette. “Didn’t you see the sign? Anyone who drops his butts has to pick them up and put a dollar into the ‘Jar of Bad Behavior.’ Which I use for the cat neuter fund.” She nodded toward two kittens who were racing over to rub against Leo’s ankles.
Leo pulled out his wallet and handed her a fiver. “Still feisty as ever, and a hell of a lot stronger.” He had the gall to clamp his hand over her biceps but pulled away at the murderous glare she gave him.
Nevin made a tsking sound. “She hates to be touched, dude. Some guy grabbed her buttocks once, and she dropped him right to the ground. Dude clutched his cojones all the way outta here, yowling like a girl.” His pride warmed her heart.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Leo slumped back against the car and crossed his arms over his chest. “You did get the best training on attack and evade, thanks to me.”
“You mean the Hunter/Prey game you and Jimmy used to force me into playing?” The two would start hunting her, prowling the tour buses or the stage equipment. She was always the reluctant prey. Except something inside her actually liked it while the rest of her hated it.
He shrugged. “We only did it ’cause your uncle paid us to.”
“What?”
Leo plucked a kitten from midway up his pant leg and set it down. “Five bucks a week. Skills building, he called it.”
“You’re serious?”
“Your uncle did things to protect you. He was super paranoid for some reason.” He peered into her eyes. “You still don’t…” He clamped his mouth shut and waved as he sauntered off. “Nevin, gimme a shout if you find the part for my truck.”
“I still don’t what?” she called after him.
“Have a sense of humor,” Leo said, though she knew that wasn’t what he was going to say.
She pinned Nevin with a glare. “Is this true, about Mon paying kids to torment me?”
He assumed the blank look of the guilty.
Her cell phone rang. “Speak of the devil.” She skipped right past hello. “Were your ears ringing? I’ve got—”
“Ruby, there’s trouble.”
“Did you piss off your new neighbors already? I told you not to hang those weird artifacts all over your front porch. Creeps people out.”
“No, big trouble, ducky. Get over here, quick. There are things I have to tell you, things I should have told you long ago.”
Her throat tightened at the agony in his voice. “Be there in about forty minutes.”
“Speed.”
Watching American Restoration inspired Ruby’s new career. I wanted her to be doing something that meant a lot to her rather than having a job she detested. The resto yard plays in a few scenes, and I liked all the props I could use, especially when a big monster comes to play!
RANDOM LINES --DRAGON AWAKENED
"Considering the circumstances, only I can awaken your powers."
Did Cyn’s arrogance know no bounds? Dumb question, Ruby. "What do I have to give you for that?"
"You assume there's a price?"
"There's always a price."
Did Cyn’s arrogance know no bounds? Dumb question, Ruby. "What do I have to give you for that?"
"You assume there's a price?"
"There's always a price."
