L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume 39
My musings on books, movies, and anything that comes to my mind late at night..
L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume 39
Excerpt 2:
Rain put a soft, wet hiss into the air.
The boots squished onto the grass with each step.
The oiled and hooded cloak protected the woman's gown well.
Her lamp was placed on the highest step of the mausoleum's stoop, right under a slight eave where it would be protected from the weather.
Cheerful and only a little overpowered by the rain, Proserpyn's voice sang.
"Mr. Gregor was kind to children.”
She bent down to wipe some wet leaves and a touch of mud off a step with a spare rag she'd brought.
"Madam Junio donated to all."
She folded the rag and put it reasonably close to her lamp.
"His Grace, the Duke was humble."
She tightened her hood over her head.
"Miss Trishelle loved knitting shawls."
As Prina danced and swayed in place, her steps soon moved with a rhythm that only played in her mind.
"She gave the shawls away, so kindly so openly."
One of her palms extended to catch raindrops.
"She warmed the girl's shoulders while smiling, truly."
The song went on in this manner. In fact, as Prina danced about in the darkness, she passed graves that had the names she'd used. Thanks to the lack of light, they weren't legible, but she knew they were there.
After a few more lines, her feet halted. Her hands slid back under her cloak, where they met at her belly, her arms bent. She turned back to go to where her father's body rested, where she'd placed her oil lamp. She crouched down to touch the thing when she heard a voice she hadn't wanted to hear.
"You couldn't have known any of those people."
Picking the lamp up, she faced the opposite direction. There was nothing unusual in her sight: rain, vague shadows, and outlines–her lantern. Sometimes, there was an occasional streetlamp, but not much else.
It was far too dark.
…She could smell him.
The rain and soggy earth's scent were forgotten. There was burning wood, spice ... and oddly enough hints of dark chocolate and cherries. Did his scent change every time he appeared?
Even though she knew who it must be, she asked, "Who's there?"
The answer, right in her ear, was simple.
"Me."
She quickly spun as she repeated with a higher and more concerned pitch, "Me?!"
The tone turned a little bit more impish, although she could still hear a smoldering hint.
"Would you prefer myself or I?"
He might well have been trying to lick her ear! That is how close it felt!
Shuddering, Proserpyn continued to search for the voice's owner. He must be somewhere! Growing frustration had her brow knitting, "Such cowardice! You won't face a lone maiden in the dark?! Reveal yourself!"
"Is that your wish, Honey Drop?"
Honey Drop?
Proserpyn tried to think of another way to insult the man. She stood there, rain pattering on her cloak. It took around fifteen seconds for her to finally say, "You're irritating and useless. I've no time for such a creature."
She went back to pick up her rag and folded it into a pocket, "I'll leave you in possession of the dead, Sir. No doubt, someone must want you here."
Prina grabbed her lantern and walked off, lighting her path.
Just as she made a slight turn, her heart jumped and she retreated a bit.
A figure was sitting on a rather tall gravestone.
He looked casual as he did it, and this time he wasn't shrouded in black and blue. It was as if he'd known he'd be too difficult to see. Instead, he seemed to be covered in a similar garment of red, or at least Proserpyn's lamp suggested it could've been red. It could also have been orange.
Maybe both.
Well, at least he wasn't hiding.
But ... well ...
Proserpyn's eyes followed the raindrops as they fell down onto the red and orange-clad man. His cloak was so long that it covered the gravestone's front and quite a bit of the earth. When the water landed on the fabric, there weren't any obvious signs of wetness. Neither did the fabric reject the water as if oiled, as her own protective garment had been. The drops seemed to ... disappear ... as if they were falling into something.
It was a detail many wouldn't have noticed, but Prina had been so focused on him that she couldn't help but see the oddity. However, her senses told her not to give a comment.
She stood there, her arm up and out, holding onto her lamp and waiting for the man to speak.
Certainly, he'd have a handful of more words for her, a handful at the very least.
He didn't disappoint.
Excerpt:
“Do you remember when you asked me what my favorite color was?”
The vibration of Nico’s voice made Brooke ache all over. She nodded and gulped her wine, catching a slight buzz. “Aries typically favor red.”
“But I chose purple for the color of the dress you wore at the wedding.”
A surge of heat spread from her cheeks to her neck. His sweet words blew through the last of her defenses. “You remember the color of my dress?”
“I remember a lot of things, tiny details about people that interest me.” Their gazes locked, and she couldn’t look away from the heat and hunger burning in his eyes.
“I…didn’t know. You never said anything.” Brooke stared at his lips as he lifted his glass. They were full and sensual, perfect for kissing.
“I heard you were taken, and I didn’t want to be a jerk.” The deep timber of his voice slid into her blood, igniting her desire.
“I was, but we broke up.” When the season changed, so did his feelings. And like all the others, she never heard from him again. Another ghost situation. She wondered why she even bothered to date anymore, but then loneliness would creep in through the cracks of her heart, and she’d dive in again.
“I’m sorry, but the way I see it, this is my lucky day. The truth is I’ve been thinking about you for months now.”
The admission sent her heart galloping. His charisma made him shine brighter than any star in the sky. Why get excited? They’d go out a few times, have mind-blowing sex that would last for days. But then summer would turn to fall, and he’d forget all about her, and she’d be left mending the pieces of her broken heart.
“Seeing you again brought my attraction back full force. Keep your fee, Brooke, and go out with me.”
A thrilling sensation moved through her, but she ignored it and pushed on. “I’m flattered, believe me, but I can’t. I don’t date my clients. It’s a strict rule of mine.”
“Technically, I was only a client for about five minutes.” His phone beeped. He glanced at the screen and muttered a curse. “I’m sorry. I have to go put some fires out at the restaurant.” Nico pulled out his wallet and slapped some cash on the bar. “Let me drop you off and make sure you get home safely.”
“I appreciate it, but it’s out of your way. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t want to be alone with him in a confined space. It would be too tempting.
Nico looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually shook his head. “Let’s get out of here.” He rested his warm hand at the small of her back as they walked to the front doors. Searing heat singed through the thin material of her dress, and she swore her panties caught fire.
They stopped at the revolving double door as well-dressed couples walked in and out of the hotel. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and a soft hum of electricity sparked between them.
“Think about what I said. I’m not going anywhere, unless I read the situation wrong, and you’re not interested.”
“No…it’s not that. I hope you understand why I can’t go out with you. It may sound silly, but I have rules about these types of things.”
“I respect your decision, but I want you to remember one thing.” He bent his head and whispered close to her ear. “Rules are meant to be broken.”
Her breath lodged in her throat. His words left her flushed and too aware of every scorching inch of him. She watched as he pushed through the doors onto the sidewalk and disappeared through the crowd.
Sighing with frustration, tonight she’d nix the bath in favor of an ice-cold shower.
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