Sassy Sunday Story Starter

Sassy Brit offers her own version of a flash fiction challenge. This week's prompt is brought to us by Selena Blake, author of Stranded With A Cajun Werewolf. Since I'm gearing up for NaNoWriMo, I thought I'd give it a try, though what I came up with isn't my usual paranormal style. But, I figure, I need to stretch my writing muscles once in a while anyway.

Lexi Armstrong, Bounty Hunter

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 1000

She had him in her sights. Billy Ray Roberds was one slippery-son-of-a-gun but nothing that Lexi Armstrong, bounty hunter extraordinaire, couldn't handle. Lungs burning she sprinted around the corner and drew her weapon. 

"Freeze Billy Ray!"The dark haired man stopped and then slowly lifted his hands. The boys back at the office were going to be doing her laundry for a month thanks to their latest bet. Lexi always won. Always. "Up against the wall." There was a sudden tremor somewhere below her belly button as six feet of lean male did her bidding. But just as she was about to put her hands on him for a pat down, he turned and pegged her with the brilliant blue gaze she'd never forgotten."Dillon?" 

Stunted, Lexi gazed back into the eyes she hoped never to see again. She cursed, gun still pointed at his chest. She kicked the dirt, grimaced. “I said up against the wall.”

“Come on Lexi, it's me.” He held out his empty hands. “You know a gun isn't my style.”

“Forget what you think I know. Forget you ever knew me in a previous life. Forget everything!” But as she stared back into his brilliant blaze, that same tugging sensation, the one she tried to ignore, came again. “Jesus, just grab the cement.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders, and turned around, hands stretched wide, and leaned. She stood watching him, remembering those hands and the magic they possessed. The way he touched her body.... Damn it, she could hear the rank laughter, Alexis always gets her man.

She stepped between his legs, briskly running her hands up and down his muscular arms, biceps bulging, across his broad shoulders, over his tightening chest, hardened abs, then lower to his belt, skimming her hands front to back.

“Christ, Lexi, careful where you touch. Damn!” He swore, tensing as her hands moved lower, over his bulging zipper, down the inside of his well-formed thighs. Her hands moved back up to his ass, before he relaxed again. She remembered his response all too well.

“Alright, I guess you're clean. Turn around, hands in front please, where I can see them.” He did as she asked, where she quickly and expertly zipped the band around his wrists.

“Lexi, will you look at me? Do you really think you need the cuffs?”

She didn't want to meet his gaze, that's when she got into trouble. “It's procedure, and you know, I'm a safety kind of gal.” She stared steadily at his chest. “Lets go, you aren't my only pick up today.” She nudged him with her foot, urging him forward.

He planted his feet wide, “I'm not moving until you tell me what happened. Where'd you go?” They had two fantastic weeks in San Juan, and then one morning, he got up and she was gone.

“Lets just say I came to my senses.” She slung her blonde hair over a shoulder. Finally, she raised her hard emerald gaze to his, making his catch his breath, she smiled. His face was darkly tanned, crinkles around his eyes from laughing, blue-black hair waved almost to his collar, a little longer than she remembered. But, it was the brilliance of his eyes that stopped her pounding heart. Her knees trembled, she squirmed, trying to relieve the tingling sensation.

“Lets go.” She pushed him, and he started walking toward the midnight blue Porsche on the corner.

“This your car?” He whistled. “Sweet!”

She opened the door, “Just shut up and get in.” With little effort, he slid into the seat, for a big man, he moved with grace and ease.

After she sat and buckled them in, he twisted to stare as she put the car into gear, pulling away from the curb. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“That Saturday, I decided to take a swim, order breakfast on my way back. A pretty pregnant woman was asking for Dillion Roberts's room.” She smiled up at him, watched his face pale.

“Shit, Veronica...”

“Yeah, Veronica.”

“My sister, she'd left her husband.” He shook his head.

She reddened. “I don't know what to believe.” She sighed, and drove in silence for about thirty minutes before she pulled into a garden neighborhood, stopping at a small brick house.

“Where are we? This can't be your office.”

“It's not.” Lexi whipped out a blade, cut the zip strip. “Come on in.” She stepped from the car, a few seconds later, he followed. They entered her house, he looked around. “Now, why don't you started at the beginning, tell me what's going on.”

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “I worked for this outfit, found money missing from the books. When I took it to my boss, he said he'd take care of it. Next thing I knew, the cops were at my door. Asked where I was the night before. Showed me pictures of my boss sliced and diced.”

“Shit, what's you're real name, is it Billy Ray?”

“No, I'm a reporter, working undercover, my name's Dillion Roberts, just like a told you in San Juan.”

“Okay.... Dillion...” She walked over to him, shoved him hard into the sofa. “Lets lay some ground rules.” She strolled over to the marble counter, poured two fingers of Jack, brought him one glass, downing her own. “Rule number one, I make all the rules. Rule number two, there are no other rules. Do you understand?”

“I think so, are you turning me in?”

“Not yet.”

“Why'd you bring me here?”

“Giving you the benefit of a doubt.” She slid onto his lap, her fingers swept over his chest. “Unfinished business, curiosity.”

He lifted his hands to cover hers. “Do you know what you're doing?”

“Not really.” She'd never hear the end of it, it would cost her greatly, but more was going on than she'd been told. “You're the first skip I haven't brought back.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh....” She brushed her full lips across his, sighing a breath, her tongue sweeping their seam, until they opened, and she tasted him. Her legs twined themselves around his waist, his hardness against her softening body.

He groaned, wrapping his hands across her ass, lifting them together. “Bedroom?”

“Second door.” The tip of her tongue licked his lips.

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers, “Jesus.” And he kissed her back, hard.

This wasn't how the day was supposed to end, but what the hell, you only live once.

Monday Morning Flash Fiction Challenge, Week 47, The Friday Post (on Monday) + Sassy's Sunday Story Starter (again on Monday)

I know it's the Fourth of July, but my leg has been giving me fits....since spending three freaking hours on it at the parade!! So instead of running around, I slept a little, took my meds like a good girl, and my leg is once again on speaking terms with me. Terse terms, not quite friends yet, but livable. But, this evening as I watched the fireworks display from my living room, as much of it as I could see anyway.... I finished my flash fiction and Sassy's challenge as well. Hope you enjoy them!

First, Friday flash fiction response:

Vampire Mistress

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 830

Marie Devore longed for the days of ease and comfort, before all the political machinations, before vampires had come to the forefront of human knowledge. The days of old when she could sit in the salon, gazing over the day receipts.

She'd never really worried about humans then, cattle to the vampire race. A convenience of necessity.

Now, the world was a different place. Humans were becoming a rare commodity. Her customers more desperate. Her chattel still remained, and she was a good mistress to her herd. Her humans wanted for little and she allowed them all the freedoms she could provide, except for the one little necessity, their blood for consumption. She hoped for it to be given freely, after all, she did provide a luxurious lifestyle. But, she was more cautious than she'd been in the past, what with the uprising. Did they not realize, in the wild, their life expectancy was most certainly void? The wilds were where those without the means for legitimate blood services hunted freely. When prey was found, it was used until it was drained completely. To become dust in the wind. The vampire race, once strong and powerful, would die without the required commodity, yet they attempted to hunt until near extinction. Fools.

As she sat, she let the papers drifted to the floor, and tipped her head into her hands, something had to be done.

“Celeste!” She called out to her assistant. “I need to locate a hunter.”

“One moment mademoiselle.” She could hear her thumbing through files, looking for the one who might save their race, then her quick steps. “Monsieur Hawks was recently released. If you'd like I can send out an emissary to see if he is amiable.”

“Yes, the situation grows more intense. I fear we'll need his services.”

“Yes ma'am, I'll send out Rachel right away.”

Marie gnawed on her bottom lip, worry in her eyes.

***

Hawks was tired of the vampires, tired of the politics that landed him in his recent caged stint. If he saw another vamp in his long life, it would be too soon. They were nothing but trouble.

The hunter peeled off the clothing which stank of entrapment, held against his will. What he needed was a hot shower to remove the stink that seemed to soak into his very flesh. He headed for arboretum where the naturally falling water would ease the tension from his muscles.

***

Rachel approached the hunter's home with trepidation, Hawks was dangerous. His name fit it's predator status. But, when she arrived, it was to find an open entrance. No wards, no permission to enter required, it sent her hackles into overdrive.

She eased through the door, heard the spray of water, and headed in the direction of the sound.

Hawks picked up the heartbeat of the intruder long before they could make their way to rear of his home where he stood with little between him and the invader. He lifted his nose into the air and sniffed. Vampire. Damn. His only option, the sawed off he carried in his duster. He reached around, feeling for the weapon as Rachel entered the room.

“Mr. Hawks, I come with a proposal from Ms. Devore,” she called into the misting sprays that fell in the live forest. She looked around, it wasn't often beauty was found in this world, and never before had she seen a contained forest. Then she heard the undeniable snick of the trigger, and halted her explorations.

“I've come on behalf of Ms. Devore. She desires your services.”

“I've already had the pleasure of working for the vampire nation. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Monsieur, I can assure your safety and return if you desire it.”

He watched his prey from inside the leafy interior, watched her as her fingers brushed along the flower petals, as her eyes sought his. He stepped away from the spray, dripping wet and naked.

“Mademoiselle, how do you propose to keep such a promise?”

“With my very life.”

“And what a waste it would be to let your life slip through my fingers. Hello, Rachel. Longtime.”

She cocked her him and turned to the sound of his voice. “Hi Michel. It has been a longtime.” She smiled as she gazed upon his dripping body. With only the sawed off at his side. “Sorry to interrupt your shower.” Her eyes drifted over his familiar body as she stepped forward, until their bodies were mere inches apart. She felt the steam from his shower as it lingered over her skin. Her body tightening in places better left unsaid.

With his free hand, he reached for her, dragging his lips across hers, before pushing her away, his body hardening, wanting. Damn, he couldn't help himself, and she would be his downfall.


Okay, I know I'm in a vampire funk lately....I really do enjoy them! My favorite preternatural creature!!


Now...Sassy's Sunday Story Starter suggested by Cheryl Rainfield:

The Fallen One

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 725

I stumbled back, my legs trembling. I knew I shouldn't have opened the door.

My hands shook, my voice quavered, “I...I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know.”

My back slammed against the rough concrete wall, hands clutched my throat. I clawed at the decaying fingers, nothing but bones covered in rotting flesh. I felt a scream building, clamoring for freedom, ready to burst into existence. Swallowing my fear, I shakily released the bony fingers, giving myself to this thing before me.

Breath stinking of rot covered my face as I squeezed my eyes, trying to inhale without taking the festering odor into my lungs. “Please, I didn't understand.”

The fingers tighten, cutting off my airway. Gagging, I staggered, nearly falling to my knees, but the strength in the bony fingers holding me was relentless.

“You were warned, ignorance is not an excuse. You were told to stay away. Yet, you disturbed my rest. A boon must be paid, your life is mine, forfeited.”

“No!” I cried, “please,” I begged.

A wheezing croak met my ears, “I claim your life. It is done.”

Suddenly, the hands released me as I sagged against the concrete, sliding down to the floor. Old leather boots scuffed from years of wear were before my eyes. I looked up to find the eyes of my executioner looking down at me. “Come, it is time to feed my desire.”

“No... no... no...” I sobbed as I scooted back, hugging the wall tighter.

A grim smile spread across his features. His hands claimed me once more. I cringed away as his lips split further still. “I've waited so long, the boon will be mine.”

He stretched my neck away from my shoulders, bringing his fangs to rest upon the tender pale flesh. “So sweet,” he whispered, breathing in my scent. “My life is yours, as yours is mine.” Then he broke the flesh.

He pulled long and hard, my blood pounded as my heart beat faster, pumping strongly at first, and slowly, weakening. My life slipping away, feeding his need, taken completely.

When again my eyes found my executioner, he appeared replenished. His flesh restored, even as my life fought for release.

He gazed into my glazing eyes, “The boon has been fulfilled. Your life for mine.” My heart stuttered one last time, and pity filled his eyes. “My life can be shared with the simply taking of my blood.”

My blood, I thought, slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing I remembered was the press of his flesh against mine.

When next I awoke, it was to the black pitch of night, my executioner beside me. “Why am I still alive?” I breathed in the cold night air, it tasted different, drier, full of a heady scent.

I felt him stretch, making to stand, pulling me up with him. “Come, tonight begins a new life.”

Glancing around, I found myself still in the basement, the smell of moldering concrete now filled my senses. Everything seemed bolder, striking my senses with fists of wonder.

“What's happened to me?”

“You're one with the night. It owns you as much as you own it. I am Gabriel, one of the fallen, and I've claimed your life, you are mine.” He hands were gentle now, his need sated with my life. Escape would be impossible, I could feel his mark burned deep within my soul. He brushed the wayward hair from my forehead. “Forgive me, it had been so long, I took you completely.”

I pulled away from him, gazing into this new world that held me in it's grip. It was no one's fault but my own. I had trespassed without regard, never believing the legends of old. I shook my head, those lessons were finished. Now, I needed to learn to survive in this new existence. One I wouldn't have chosen, but would gladly embrace. Gabriel stood beside me as I gazed into the night. Demons were supposed to be faerytales, but I knew they were real. One stood beside me, revived from the time before man roamed the Earth. One who had follow the Dark Prince, and suffered the consequences. Now, I was his mate, his lifeline to the present, and it could be no other way.


Well, see I did demons...sort of...still with a hint of vampire... couldn't help myself.


Remember to come back Friday to post responses to this week flash fiction!!

PS: If you have entered in the Clarity of Night flash fiction contest in the past, Jason is getting ready to post a new contest. If you like to participate and haven't received an email, please contact him @ Clarity of Night. Have fun if you plan to enter.

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... One Week Late.....

I haven't participated in Sassy's SSSS in a while because I've been too freaking busy, lol. But, I decided to give this one a try because when I was over on her blog, I immediately knew how the story was going to evolve. Took less than thirty minutes, lol.... Last week's prompt was from L.P. Robinson (which I ever so slightly edited to pm instead of am).

One More Night

by: Dottie Taylor

Work Count:  525

At 10:00 pm, I arrived at 220 Jackson Lane and found the body of a teenaged boy wrapped in a blanket and hidden in the basement. His name is...

I checked the log sheet, Luis McEnberry, fifteen years old. I scrubbed a hand across my forehead, it was a bitch being the assistant medical examiner for LeRoy County. Doc Lassy never came out in the middle of the night.

Squatting down next to the body, I looked over at the police photographer, and he nodded his head.

“Hey Nic, this is a bitch of a night, ain't it?”

“Yeah Paulie it is, I could've lived forever without another one of these calls.”

“Fuck, me too. You ready ta see the body?”

“I guess so... hey Mark, get you ass over here.”

My assistant slouched over, barely more than a teenager himself. I motioned for him to help me lift the blanket, sliding it into it's own garbage size baggie.

“Man, Doc, I hate this shit... These latex gloves make me itch.”

“Shut up Mark, on three we roll the body.”

“Whatever you say Doc.”

“Three!” We eased the body over, and the photographer stood quickly, snapping a few more photos. I motioned for him to take a close up. There were odd markings on his neck.

Suddenly, the body sat up, shivered violently, then started kicking and gasping like a fish out of water.

I hadn't yet touched the body long enough to feel for a pulse, but someone's ass was going to get kicked, and I hoped it wouldn't be mine.

Hurriedly, I leaned in and grabbed the boy's shoulders. “I need 5cc's of eppy now!”

Mark jumped up and looked at me, “Shit Doc, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!” He stepped back, “this motherfucker's still alive!”

I motioned to the medical kit, and he shoved it toward me. Grabbing the quickpin, I jabbed the kid's thigh with the eppy pin, hoping to stimulate his breathing. As he started to relax in my grip, I felt his carotid, no pulse. What the fuck was going on?!?

His raspy voice whispered from his punctured throat, “What's happening to me?”

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist, pulling it to his mouth. He sniffed the flesh before ripping through it and squeezing it in a death grip against his mouth. “Mmmmm, I want...”

Distantly, I heard a scream, and then another, and I realized it was me. Jerking my arm away, gore covered his mouth. He heaved a huge sigh, and jumped to his feet, horrified. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME???” He flashed up the stairs, and I heard the door being torn from the house.

There was a mad dash of activity, APB's sent out, radios squawking, as I sank to the ground, holding my bloodied wrist. As I watched the blood coagulated, the burning eased. One of the cops wrapped it, trying to push me toward the ambulance, but I brushed him off. I could see the wound had already healed.

“I'm fine, I'll come by in the morning to make a statement.” As casually as I could, I walked to my car and slide behind the wheel, before the shivering started. I had to get home. What the hell was going on?



Well, see what I mean, 30 minutes to finish (it took longer to do the posting, lol)... and vampires.... yay!

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Well, I know I'm late, but only a little, and I finished a book last night! YAY! Now to write the review...

But instead of writing the book review, I whipped up a quick tale for Sassy Sunday Story Starter from Alternative Reads brought to us by Viviane Brentanos, author of Womens Contemporary Fiction. I know, not doing what I'm supposed to be doing....lol

Murder By Design

by:  Dottie Taylor

word count: 720

A hard rain drummed out its incessant beat. Max Jackson rested his head against the mullioned windowpane and wondered if he’d ever get used to the capricious climate. A mundane deliberation, really. The weather was the least of his worries.

Now, the police, that was the real worry. That's why he was hold up here. Not that it was bad here, except for the incessant raining, the heat and humidity, mosquitoes big enough to carry away small animals ... aside from that, it was pretty great.

And who knows, maybe they'll try to pin the murder on someone else. Yeah. Right. His fingerprints were all over the knife, her blood on his clothes, and they had been seen together, earlier in the evening. All looks pretty suspicious, even to him. Fucked. That's what he was, fucked.

He ran a hand over his tired face, and sighed. He wished Billy would call.

******

Back in New York, Billy stared at the phone. She'd promised him she'd call, but she hadn't, knew she wouldn't, it was too easy. Instead she opened the phone and dialed 911.

“Nine-One-One operator...What's the nature of your emergency?” The police operator spoke through the clicking of computer keys.

“I know the location of Max Jackson, he's wanted in connection to the Linda McNeary murder?”

“Please hold for the detective.” The operator voice was anxious, suspicious. Moments later, another voice filled her ear.

“This is Detective Michaels, with whom am I speaking with?”

“That's not really important is it? I mean, I'm just want to do my civic duty, I don't want to leave my name.”

“Yes, ma'am, but there's a reward for information regarding the case, no name no reward.”

“Oh, well... I guess it wouldn't hurt... My name is Susy, Susy Kurts.”

“Okay, Ms. Kurts, why don't you tell me what you know?”

“Well... Max Jackson, he's kind of a friend, and well, he called me. Said he was staying down in New Orleans, in the French Quarter, place called Mabel's. He supposed to have murdered that girl...”

“You sure about that?”

“As you as you're sitting there whittling your thumbs, and he did call me.”

“We'll check it out. Can you come in, sign a statement?”

“Gee, detective, I don't know....I don't want to get involved.....”

“Ma'am, you're already involved. It'd be better for us if you could come in.”

“I'll have to think about it, Detective....”

“Is this a good number, if we need to, we can reach you back?”

“Yeah, sure.”




Billy disconnected the call, went to the memory, and erased it. The night was dark, she didn't think anyone was paying attention, but still better safe than sorry. As she walked along the sidewalk, she wiped the phone clean, dropping it into a trash can, and kept walking, not missing a step. As she turned the corner, she held up hand, hailing a cab. This side of town was definitely not for her.

Back in her apartment, she turned on the hot water, added some bath salts. What was that old commercial her mother used to say? Oh, yeah...  Calgon, take me away! She sighed. She'd had a long day, and she deserved a soak, she thought. She slipped out of her clothes and into the hot water.

Well, at least all of that nasty business had been taken care of. What a mess Linda turned out to be! Then, she'd had to do damage control, get her out of the way, and it wasn't nearly as hard this time. She did have to sacrifice her one of her best outfits, she really was going to miss her Louis, that's for sure. Next time, she pick up one of those cheap rainsuits, she just didn't own anything suitable for that kind of mess.

The easy part had been getting Max to go check on Linda, that meant framing him was easy too, and the police, the idiots were eating out of the palm of her hand. The hard part was the clean up, so many loose ends to tie up. And who would have guessed Max was so damn slippery? Murder, such a messy business, only to be done when absolutely necessary. She thought for a moment. Maybe she'd make that her new personal motto.




So, okay, a little dark, sociopathic...lol... but not too bad. Fun to play with...

Ciao!

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Well, late again, but at least I managed to get a response to this wonderful prompt provided by Daniel Arenson @ Sassy Brit's Alternative Read.  I really enjoy this one, but then I really enjoy them all!!

So, this is how I saw this week's prompt:

Gangster's Dance

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 600

When she kicked open the door, gun in hand, she found them waiting.

Sam slammed her back against the wall, holstering her gun, recognition in her eyes. “You been waiting long?”

“Nah,” Blonde ponytail smiled, then challenged, “Boss said to give you a try. Think you can take us?”

“Why the hell not. I don't have anything better to do.”

At once, the melee started, Blondie sprang into action, and the one holding up the far wall casually strolled forward, ready to take Blondie's place, should there be a need. He glanced at his nails, picked imaged fuzz from his lapel. He had a nice vanilla scent rolling off his body, his only appealing feature. Both men were walking steroid adverts, all biceps, rock-hard abs, thick thighs. When Blondie's body slid to the tiled floor, Vanilla's eyes were unbelieving.

He dropped to a fighting stance, holding out a hand. He winked, blew a kiss, and smiled as he motioned her forward.

Bastard. He thought he was better than Blondie. Hell, better than her.... news flash, pal, not even on a bad day.

She grinned and stepped forward, bringing her knee up hard into Vanilla's groin. She never said the fight would be fair. He gasped as he went down howling, “Bitch!” He joined Blondie who had started moving. He was going to need some ice if he ever wanted to use his jewels again.

“Fuck you. Who the hell do you think you are?” She looked over at the pair.

Behind her another voice answered, “They're my new bodyguards, and I can see, I've been sorely misled.” The Boss walked over to his wannabees and kicked at them with a polish wing tip. “Get up off our asses now! Gawd damn it, get the fuck up!” He spun around, pointing a manicure finger, “And you, that's enough! You think these guys grow on trees?”

“I think before you come into my home again, I should have some warning. Next time, I might just start shooting, instead of ass kicking.” Her eyes glowed daggers in their depths.

The Boss turned away and grinned, this is why she was his girl, she took shit from nobody. He schooled his face and turned back to face her. “Last time I looked, I signed your check too.”

She paused with her hand on her holstered gun. “You really wanna go there?”

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but your ass doesn't own mine. Don't start acting like it does.”

He swallowed, glancing back at Blondie and Vanilla. “You let a 5 foot, 100 pound girl kick your asses?”

“Sorry Boss, won't happen again.”

“Fucking liars. What to try again?” She cracked her knuckles.

They looked at each other. “No ma'am.”

“Then, get the hell out of my house.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Blondie walked away, but Vanilla wasn't as lucky, he was having trouble moving his legs.

She sighed, “Hold up.” She turned into the kitchen, coming back with a small ice pack. “Here, least I can do.”

He gingerly rested the ice against his throbbing jewels, sighing. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention, ever. Get out.”

He eased around her, making for the door.

The Boss gave her a heated look, “I'll see you tonight?”

She glanced over at him. “Got a job. Maybe later.”

He leaned in with a punishing kiss, bruising her lips. “Make sure you do.”

Her eyes glinted. “Prick.”

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

I've been meaning to post a response to Sassy Brit's Sunday Story Starter, this week's prompt from Kiki Howell, and I kept getting delayed, until I looked up and it was Tuesday... Oh, my.... So, here it is, late but better than never...

 

The Beauty and The Beast

by: Dottie Taylor

word count:  786

Despite the heat from the fire which warmed her skin, an icy chill ran the length of her spine as if ice was being poured down her back. "What are you?" she dared ask the shadowed figure, the one which was as menacing as it was seductive.

Gwynith had been shown into the Lord's library to wait for Denbarry. As she peered into the shadows, the figured moved within them once more. Something about this shadowy figure called to her, pulled her heartstrings, and she moved closer.

“I'm too horrible for your eyes, milady.” He spoke with a slur, and folded the shadows deeper around himself.

She reached out, brushing the shadows with her fingertips, and he hissed, jerking back.

“You mustn't, milady, my body is too corrupt with foulness.” He leaned further back, but as he turned away, even more of his form was revealed. His body appeared to be twisted, deformed, animalistic. Yet, she could see a cravat with an emblem of nobility held at his throat.

“What has happen to you, milord?” She cried, and again she reached out, stepping into the shadows, to find the man cringing back.

He roared, baring canines long enough for a tiger, and as he brought his hands to cover his face, claws clung to his fingertips, large enough for a wolf. He chest was broad and a sheen of fur bristled up from his collar of his fine silk shirt that stretched to the point of bursting. When he walked, his pants shifted oddly, and he wore no shoes, even though it was the dead of winter.

Then, she caught sight of his face, behind the hair, the teeth, the leathered skin, on her soul, it was Lord Denbarry!

She gasped, and crept closer when all of her instincts screamed to leave, run away as fast and far as her legs could carry her. But her pride made her stay, she had given her word, and keep it she would. Her heart pounded, and still she moved closer until she stood at his elbow which she tentatively touched.

“Lord Denbarry? It is I, Gwynith.” She whispered, and leaned closer, “what has happened to you, milord?” She had left three years prior, to attend school, but she was home now. The first person she had sought out had been Lord Denbarry.

“It was a perversion, an evilness visited upon me.” He looked down, he fisted his hands, hiding his claws. “My family curse,” he whispered, “on my twenty-five birthday, this was my gift. During the daylight hours, I am as normal as any other gentleman, but as dusk falls upon the light, the shift occurs, and the beast is born.” He glanced away, looked anywhere but upon her face where she might see his true horror, his eyes, black orbs surrounding blood red pinpoints.

She reached out, drawing his face back to her, and he squeezed his eyes. “Please leave me, please Gwynith, do not gaze upon me.” Tears glisten in the corners of his tightly closed eyes. Why did it have to be Gwynith, he furiously thought, anyone but her. He remembered how she looked as a child, auburn pigtails, frogs in her dress pockets, she had followed him around like a lost puppy, infatuated by the boy of the manor, and truthfully, he had always waited for her in the mornings so they could chase through the marshes together. He secretly delighted in it.

Finally she spoke, “Denbarry, I'm not some frail miss, I will not faint away. Three years ago, I told you I would return, and so I have.” She reached to take his... hand, and he was still the same Denbarry she remembered from childhood.

Slowly, Denbarry let her lead him to the fire and pushed him into the chair before it. It was the first time he'd seen her clearly, without the darkness of the shadows or the play of the fire across her features, and he caught his breath. She astounded him with her beauty, tiny stature, curling auburn hair which fell delicately over her shoulders with a springy bounce, bright green eyes sparking with intelligence, red full lips which begged for kisses, and the body of Athena herself. In that moment as she held his hand, unafraid, he knew his heart was lost to her forever. His beauty.

As Gwynith lead him across the room, she remembered all the times in her childhood he had been so indulgent, so kind, when he didn't have to be. She gazed upon him, even as the beast, he was a marvel of wonder. Again, her heart tugged and broke just a little, and she realized that no matter his appearance, she belonged to him, had and would always belong to him. She let her fingers linger upon his arm with possessiveness. Her beast.

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

I seem to be late with everything these days, lol, and it's the same with the SSSS. Sassy Brit over at Alternative Read offers a Sassy Sunday Story Starter each week, and this week's starter was offered by Angelika Devlyn author of Black Ice.  This week was a single line.... "You'll never guess who has just walked in!"  I had to give it a try.

Soul Fire, Part 1

By Dottie Taylor

word count: 500

"You'll never guess who has just walked in!" Brea squealed as she rushed into the room.

Her sister, Reena, glanced over at Brea, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess, Rob Pattinson.... Daniel Radcliffe.... Joe Jonas...? Stop me if I get close.” Reena grinned, Brea was such a drama queen.

Brea scoffed at her sister. “Nooo.... Don't be silly!” She huffed a little, but couldn't contain herself almost ready to explode. “Omigosh, you're not going to believe it!!” She squeed, happiness shining in her eyes.

“So, who's here?” Reena eyed her sister, truly curious now, Brea was easy to excite, but she was bouncing off the walls.

“Aunt Debbie and Uncle Ron, and guess who they brought? Their new foreign exchange student, Petrov something or other...! Brea buzzed, almost quivering. “He's gorgeous... dark hair, big blue eyes. You gotta see him! But, remember, I saw him first!” She smiled, dragging Reena to her feet.

“Oh, you saw him first alright, go for it, I've had my fill.” Reena pulled her hand back. “Really, it's very okay with me.”

“Just come and meet him.” Brea begged, “come on Reen, I'd do it for you.” She pushed out her bottom lip in a pout, giving her sister big chocolate brown puppy dog eyes. Brea was one with all the looks, red full lips, glossy blonde hair, curves in all the right places. People always thought she was the oldest sister, while when Reena looked in the mirror all she saw was curly red hair, pink pudgy lips, and she was short, not tall like Brea at all. Once guys saw Brea, Reena hardly stood a chance, it happened all the time.

“Alright, I'll come meet your Petrov whatever, don't say I didn't do you any favors.” Reena sighed, following her sister.

Brea hurried back into the room while Reena made her way down the hall, halting as Brea snatched up her hand.

“Reena, meet Petrov, Petrov, my sister Reena.” Brea gushed as she released Reena's hand and grabbed Petrov's.

Petrov's blue eyes rested upon Reena, and suddenly she felt shy, the focus of his attention, she squirmed under his penetrating gaze.  “Nice to meet you, Petrov, hope you're having a good time.”

When he spoke, Reena's eyes were drawn to his lips which twitched in almost a smile. “Nice to meet you too Reena, I was thinking of taking a walk, would you like to join me?” Again those arresting blue eyes studied Reena, but before she could reply Brea burst out, “I'd love to!”

Still Petrov's demanding eyes held Reena's, but Brea was lost in her own thoughts, unaware of Petrov's focus. As Brea pulled him from the room, he broke eye contact to lean in to hear her whisperings. But before they left the house, he once again sought out Reena, with a promise held in those blue eyes, but a promise of what? And why?


I don't know why, but when I read this one line, I immediately thought YA.... maybe it was the words or the way my eyes saw them, but anyway, YA is where this flash went.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it, and I have a feeling there's more to tell....