Snippet Saturday: "What did you do to your friends, Marshall?" an excerpt from Halfborn

 

What did you do to your friends, Marshall?

an excerpt from Halfborn

“Hey, Marshall, do you ever miss your old life?” I asked timidly.

A jolt of confusion flowed from him. He quickly reined it in before he answered. “No,” he said, slightly angry. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because . . . I think you should miss it. At least a little.” I sat down across from him. “I mean, there has to be something you're upset about losing.”

“I can't think of anything I wouldn't mind losing if being with you is what I get in return. I was a college student with no major, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Now, I have a brand-new start with no need to know what kind of job I'll need to die at—just trying to scrape by and survive.” He glanced out the window, and some feeling I couldn't figure out revealed itself briefly.

“You didn't have any friends? No one you cared for? No one you miss?” I asked, pushing him to show something—anything—for everything he must have lost.

“Yeah, I had friends; not that it matters. Besides, they're better off I'm gone.” He looked at me, and then down to his hands.

The feeling I couldn't identify slipped to me from him, again. Regret? Then it was gone. I thought back to the night he'd killed his parents—to the car ride home. He'd been so racked with guilt, with remorse, and then it was gone. I wondered then: did Marshall know he was controlling his feelings or was it merely by accident and some sort of survival instinct?

“What did you do to your friends, Marshall?” I asked before I could stop myself.

The regret flowed back, accompanied by anger. I didn't really want him angry with me. I'd seen what he was capable of, but he needed to work at least some of his issues out before he turned me into an uncontrollable monster.

He brought his eyes back up to meet mine. His eyebrows pinched together above the bridge of his nose. “Friend. What did I do to my friend, because I really only had one true one,” he said.

“Well, Marshall?” I urged.

He shook his head, and the corners of his lips turned down. “I slept with his fiancée . . . Is this what you want to hear? That I'm a backstabbing asshole that fucks his only friend's girl.”

Out of everything I could've thought, the words he spoke seemed far from any of it. I didn't know why. I didn't even know Marshall, really. We'd been thrust together by a mystical occurrence. I was shocked by what he'd said, but I also felt betrayed. Though, I had no right to. He hadn't wronged me, and I didn't even know him when he'd done it.

He seemed so . . . loyal. Maybe the betrayal I felt was because I didn't want to believe he could do something like what he said he'd done. Like he had lied to me, but I could tell what he'd said was the truth.

He gave me a minute to process his words. When I hadn't responded, he continued, “That's why I was at that stupid burger place. I was breaking things off with her. Jared, my friend, had found out and was falling apart. He wouldn't speak to me, and I didn't blame him. I hated myself. Maybe I still do.”

“Damn it, Marshall,” I said as his self-loathing and hate washed over me. “I didn't know. Why didn't you say something sooner?”

“Why would I? I'm not going back to that life. It doesn't matter anymore.”

“But what if it does matter, Marshall?” I asked. “What if you holding these feelings back, hiding them inside, is keeping you from being able to control more important things? Even if you don't realize you're putting in an effort to block these things, you are, and I think it's making it harder for you to block other things. Like, I don't know, your bloodlust? At least that's what I'm beginning to believe. You need to deal with this stuff.”

“I have. I put it behind me. It's been forgotten. Well, until you brought it up!” He slammed his fist down on the table.

“You're wrong. Or else you wouldn't be so pissed right now.”

“God damn it, Coral! When I was laying there, thinking I was dying . . . I resigned. I decided I deserved death. That I'd brought it upon myself. I made peace with everything.”

I placed my hands on his and tried to comfort him, but he was so angry. “But you didn't die. Not exactly. You're still here. And then, you did something far worse than having sex with someone you shouldn't have.”

He jerked his hands away and stood up, taking several steps back. “Don't! Don't fucking do this, Coral! I can't. I won't.” The remorse, the sadness, the undeniable despair that rolled between us was short lived and was quickly replaced by a rage that burned so hot it began to draw out both our bloodlust.

Shit, that wasn't what I expected. Sadness, grief, tears. That's what I expected. Not for me to be touched with my own fear that my life could be in danger. I had the thought that I should have ended the conversation, that I should have quit pushing him, but I knew not dealing with these things would only allow everything to stay as it had been. No control over anything, just mindless killing, and that was going to do something to me that scared me more than death. I had to try.

I mentally clawed my way through the rage and past the bloodlust that boiled below the surface, and I found the things Marshall didn't want to feel. I let those feelings flow into me, and I tried to push them back at him. This made his rage grow more, and the bloodlust leaked through further.

“You just keep getting angrier, Marshall, but we are going to talk about this. You are going to confront this!” My voice got louder as I spoke, as the anger seeped past my barriers.

A manic laugh bubbled from his lips, and the wildness, I'd grown familiar with when we fed, filled his eyes. “You think you can make me do something I don't want to do?”

“I don't think you'll do anything to hurt me, Marshall!” My words came out more confident than I felt.

More manic laughter filled the small space. “You don't think so? Keep this stupid shit up and see what happens.”

It's not that I didn't believe him. I did, but the facts weighed too heavy on me not to finish what I'd started. I ripped the band-aid off, and I said what I should have said weeks before, “Marshall, you killed your parents! That has to have some kind of effect on you. Ignoring it isn't going to change what happened.” At some point, I had stood up, and I was staring into Marshall's eyes, issuing a challenge, when my words ended.

A sound, I could only describe as a growl, rattled up from his chest and left through his clenched teeth. I didn't move. I wouldn't back down, but I also didn't dare give him reason to think I was fleeing.

“Marshall, you need to calm down. Get yourself under control!” I shouted at him.

“What? This isn't the reaction you wanted?” he asked, his rage and bloodlust spiked so high that I nearly leapt at him.

I composed myself as much as I could. “You need to grieve your losses. You need—”

My head hit the dining table as my body fell to the floor from Marshall's weight on top of me. I didn't even see him move; he was just there, attacking. Everything was going dark as I felt his teeth rip into my neck.

*Halfborn is available on Amazon. Grab your copy, ebook or paperback, here. Thank you for your support! I love my readers. 💖

Snippet Saturday: Love Made Them an excerpt from Halfborn

Love Made Them

an excerpt from Halfborn

by Soleil Daniels

"So, Wraiths are basically executioners. Is there really much more I need to know about them?" I asked.

"You should learn how to avoid them. And, how you learn that is by learning about them. You're making them out to be all bad because of your experience, but they came about by an act of love."

I tried to put my personal feelings aside. I picked up and drained my glass of its blood. The thick liquid left on the inside walls slowly slid down back to the bottom as I reached for the pitcher, so I could refill the glass. I filled it then turned to Marshall who had an eyebrow cocked at me. I assumed at the fact that I usually only had one glassful.

"Do you need any more?"

He grabbed his glass and held it in my direction, eager. "Yeah."

I filled his glass and set the pitcher back on the table. I'd managed to collect my thoughts and composure by the time I turned back to Innocence.

"So, love; not revenge or hate or a dispute or jealousy or any other possibly negative thing made the first Wraith. I don't understand how love could have caused someone to kill their own kind," I finally said.

"Well, in all honesty, there are all of those things involved, but ultimately, isn't it love that undoes us all."

"Okay, I don't get it. First, you tell me that it happened because of love, but then you say it didn't." I heaved a breath of frustration.

"Maybe if you hear the story you'll understand."

Marshall sat by quietly. I could feel his interest seeping out of every pore of his body.

"What say you, Marshall? Would you like to hear the story?" Innocence asked him.

I looked to him, already knowing his answer, but he still gave me a look as if seeking my approval. I shook my head with a slight chuckle. I completely understood at that moment why Innocence called him Fido.

"Let's hear it," I said, turning back to her.

"Okay," she said, rubbing her hands together. "It all starts with a couple: Dyon and Ixora. Both Inborn. They had been together many years with Ixora giving birth to three children: two boys and a girl. One day Dyon met another woman, Apholenia, a human. He fell for her immediately, leaving Ixora and their children.

"Ixora became enraged. Jealous of Apholenia, she found where the new couple made their rest. Ixora grabbed the woman from the warm arms of her lover. When Apholenia realized what was happening she began to scream, and her screams woke Dyon. The moment Ixora knew Dyon was aware of what was happening, she bit Apholenia. It took two weeks for Apholenia to die from the venom of Ixora's bite.

"Dyon, distraught and unwilling to return to the mother of his children and the murderer of his lover, went to his brother, Xantheus. He told his brother what had happened. How he had wronged Ixora, but that he couldn't have denied what he felt in his heart. He told him that he no longer wanted to go on living. That Apholenia had been the other half of his soul, and he was no longer whole. He wished for death, begged for it. But, Xantheus refused to honor his younger brother's wishes." Innocence stopped for a minute, taking the time to refill her glass and taking a large swig from it.

"Wait, how does this explain how the first Wraith came about if he didn't kill his brother? Or did Dyon kill Ixora?" I asked, even though I'd learned she liked to build up the tension with her stories and stop abruptly before the dramatic ending, leaving one in anticipation.

"For someone that didn't want to learn any more about Wraiths, you sure are impatient to know how and why they came to be." She took another sip from her glass.

"Well, if you wouldn't just stop in the middle of a story maybe I wouldn't get impatient," I said.

Marshall laughed, causing me to look over at him. "I personally enjoy how Innocence tells stories. I like the need to know and it to be drawn out," he said.

"Yep. I knew you enjoyed torture," I retorted.

"It's not torture; it's excitement."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Marshall." I turned back to face Innocence. "So?"

"Jeesh! Okay, okay. Days went by, then weeks, and months. Xantheus could barely stand the pain in his brother's eyes. In his voice. Dyon refused to feed, and he turned into a mere shell of the person he used to. Xantheus battled with himself on which torment he could live with easier, taking the life of his brother or watching the misery of him day in and out. He finally decided that death would be a gift for Dyon and agreed to do his bidding. It was when Xantheus said the words to Dyon and a spark of happiness lit his eyes that Xantheus realized he'd made the right choice, for he'd not seen that much life in his brother for far too long. That was Dyon's gift to him. That split second of happiness.

"With his small stone blade in his left hand and much larger stone blade his right, Xantheus pierced Dyon's heart with the small blade and with more strength than he thought he could muster, took his head off with the larger blade. It was only when he'd made it to the lake—blood and tears covering his face—that he realized he had changed. Leaning over the water to wash his face, he saw his reflection in the shimmering surface, and the golden-yellow pattern of his eyes had changed to the silver-blue that the Wraiths have."

Hearing the details of how Xantheus had killed his brother left a flashback of my mother's death in my mind, which I pushed away with everything I had. I couldn't focus on moving forward if I couldn't get over the past.

"So, what happened to Xantheus?" Marshall asked.

"I'm not really sure. He wasn't really accepted after it was told how his eyes had changed, and he left the community. There aren't any stories of him after that. It took years for the next Wraith to become, and then even longer for Wraiths to be accepted as a Born breed. But, once truly accepted, which was after the Abominates came to be, they became staples in the Born community."

"So, you don't know if he's still around today?" Marshall piped up again.

I was still trying to process the story, and he wanted to know more.

"If he is he'd be at least ten-thousand years old. Even I can't imagine still wanting to live after that long. I suppose it's possible he's still out there, somewhere. I'd never really thought about it," Innocence answered, her voice sounding uninterested.

"Really. You never wanted to know what came of him?" he asked, pushing the subject.

"No, why would I? I have my own life. I don't need to know about someone who's millennia old," she said as if it made perfect sense, and I couldn't help but agree with it.

Marshall seemed defeated. He reached for his glass and finished it off. Innocence did the same. I looked at my own glass still three-quarters of the way full, regretting pouring the second one. Innocence stood and grabbed the two empty glasses and the pitcher that had been emptied without my noticing, placing them back on the tray.

"Okay, I'm going to take these back to the kitchen. I expect to see you two back in the workout room in five minutes. We've got a lot of work to do," she told us before walking to the back door and disappearing into the house.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I reached for the glass in front of me, but Marshall's hand stopped mine.

"If you can't finish it, I don't mind taking care of it for you."

"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. It's just not the same. I can't stand how it tastes. Thanks."

He finished off the blood in three huge gulps. "I'll take this to the kitchen. You go ahead and get to the room. Maybe you can get a few good hits in before Innocence shows up. Take care of that anger and confusion."

*I snagged this excerpt out of an old draft, so it might not be 100% the same as the published version. Speaking of the published version Halfborn (click to purchase) is free today (June 27, 2020).

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-eight

Hey, everybody! Wednesdays have been sneaking up on me lately. Maybe because the nephew's constantly here, maybe because my guy got his schedule switched and now has Wednesdays and Thursdays days off (you'd think that would make it easier to remember when Wednesday is, but really it just makes me think Wednesday is Saturday and Friday is Monday, and it's all weird), or maybe it's just a combination both of those and every other single thing going on. Is anyone else as mixed up as I am?

Who's ready for Week Fifty-eight? Here we go! This week's featured author for Writer Wednesday is Sean Kerr. I was introduced to Sean's work through Angelique Jurd's Facebook group Cocktails and Denim about a year or so ago. Angelique recommended Sean's book Alive to me. I was pretty hooked. It has similar aspects with my own writing—Dark Fantasy (his is more of a Gothic style though), sexy, graphic, and dark. What's different is it's M/M, which I love. Give me some guy on guy action any day. 😉🤤 Anyhoo, down to business. You can find Sean and his fantastic works at the following links below.


Sean's Facebook Author Page

Sean's Twitter

Sean's Website

Sean's Amazon Author Page


Books:

Dead Camp 1

Dead Camp 2

Dead Camp 3

Dead Camp 4: The End Game Part 1

Dead Camp 5: The End Game Part 2

The Last Child Part 1

The Last Child Part 2

The Last Child Part 3

Hush Little Baby

The Birthday Present

Joggers Hill

Santa's Sack

The One Ring Special Edition

Jingle My Bells: A Fruity Christmas Short Story

The Christmas Window: A Short, Naughty MM Christmas Story

The Man Inside Me: An MM Gothic Romance

Alive: An MM Dark Universe Book

Still Alive: A Dark Paranormal Romance

Being Alive: A Thrilling LGBT Mystery Romance Novel Brand New Release!



Thank you for joining me this week! I hope to see you all again next week. Remember, support indie authors and, please, leave reviews for their work.

Snippet Saturday: The Plan part 1 of To Save Lives

1. The Plan

"We're known as the worst of the worst. The putrid. The ones that should not be. The Abominates. But, what if we could help humans who'd thought they'd lost a loved one? What if we could help them keep the people they care so much for but fear they have lost to sickness and disease? Would they agree, even if it cost more than they could ever imagine?" Calvin mused, more so to himself, but he turned to make sure Daphne was paying attention.

"I'm not sure I'm following, Cal. How exactly do you mean 'help them keep the people they care so much for'?" Daphne shook her head, puzzled.

"We take the humans that are one step over the threshold of death and we transform them. We convince their families, their loved ones, to ask the hospitals to take them home and live their final days, maybe hours, there. We do this under the pretense that we can save them. We promise the families that there's no reason for the person to die."

"Why? What's the point? If it's to feed, I find the hassle seems far too much."

"An army, Daphne. A defense against our enemies. The Inborns. The Wraiths. We'll truly be transforming those who knock at death's door. We'll give those families their wish of more time. Though, I believe it won't be exactly what they'll expect," Calvin explained as if it made all the sense in the world.

"I don't know. There's something about it that doesn't fit. Building an army that way, well, don't you think that someone else would have already done it if it were possible. Besides the transformation being so difficult, to begin with, there has to be a reason why we've never heard of anything similar being done." Daphne walked across the room to Calvin and smoothed the crease that had formed between his eyes with her thumb.

He knocked her hand away. He'd lived nearly seventy-five years more than Daphne as an Abominate. Her blood-need had only been awakened eighteen years before that night. In a way, she was his sister as they had both been turned by the same Abominate, Petra, but Daphne was also his lover. He despised the fact that she would disagree with him. He'd had more experience, and unlike him, she'd never attempted to transition a Newling. He had two attempts under his belt. Both of which were failures, but he'd since then studied the history of the Abominates, the turning process, and he'd also gone to medical school, learning all he could about the human body and how it functioned. He used the knowledge he learned of both human and Abominates to devise a plan to make the transformation process easier and more successful. At least, that was his hope. Yet, Daphne doubted him.

"I see that you're angry with me, Cal, but all I'm saying is, we should at least talk to Petra or another of our kind before moving forward," she said, showing him just how little faith she had in him.

"Petra?" he said, the anger tainting his voice nearly tangible. "Petra! The beast who transitioned us and then left. Sure, I had a decade with her, but you? She dumped you on me when you were barely six months transformed. You were still a Newling. You were still in need of your creator. And, you want her to, what? Help with a plan I've spent twenty years devising. I think not! Besides, she's probably still chasing down that impossible creature. Determined to claim a mere Halfborn is more than what it truly is. She's lived too long, and she lost her mind centuries ago."

"I'm not trying to upset you, Calvin. I'm just not sure about this. Please, we should, at the very least, question another of our kind. What's a little more time—"

"No!" Calvin boomed. "I will do this whether you're by my side or not!" He turned and left the room, slamming the door hard enough that he'd heard the frame crack.

*Want to read the rest of the story? You can grab it in its entirety over on Amazon. Best part To Save Lives is currently free until the 22nd of June! Just follow the highlighted title to be directed to your local Amazon to purchase your free copy. Thanks! 

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-six

Hey, everyone! Welcome to Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-six. This week's author is a new acquaintance, whom I met in my Facebook Group (Supporting Indies, Reaching Readers). Let's get to it, and see who this author is.

Week Fifty-Six's featured author is L. L. Thomsen. She writes Epic Fantasy and has a decent amount of available works on Amazon. You can find out more about L. L. Thomsen and her works at the following links below.


L. L. Thomsen's Facebook Author Page

L. L. Thomsen's Twitter

L. L. Thomsen's Website

L. L. Thomsen's Amazon Author Page


Books:

The Missing Shield, Part 1 (The Veil Keepers Quest)

A Change of Rules: The Missing Shield, Episode 1

Unexpected Bargain: The Missing Shield, Episode 2

A Perspective of Death: The Missing Shield, Episode 3

Running the Gauntlet: The Missing Shield, Episode 4

Notions of Risk: The Missing Shield, Episode 5

The Final Card: The Missing Shield, Episode 6

The Lure of an Ancient Fable: The Missing Shield, Episode 7

All in a Day's Work: The Missing Shield, Episode 8



Thanks for joining me this week! I hope to see you all again next week. Remember to support indie authors by purchasing their work from legitimate distributors and always leave reviews for their work.

Short Story Saturday: Another 8 Hours from a 'Jessica's *What if* writing prompt'

Another 8 Hours

I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to bring the image to my mind as to force myself into the reality I desire when I drift to sleep.

'Please! Don't put me back into the dark world of beasts and ghouls. The world where they tear one another apart with little regard as to what they are doing and why,' I scream within my thoughts.

I feel my breathing slow as I drift to sleep, into another world. He's there. His face kind, caring . . . knowing. His green eyes shimmer with mischief. He smiles. It spreads further to his cheeks than possible. Further still. The corner of his lips reaching the lobes of his ears, splitting his face in two.

I scream as the top of his head falls back, thudding at the nape of his neck. His exposed esophagus has what looks like dark, black, hairy twigs escaping it. The opening widens as the biggest spider I've ever seen is freed from his gaping maw.

I jump to my feet and run. Only tricked that I'd actually come to the place I'd hoped to dream of, instead to have been placed in the nightmare world I'd wished to avoid. Another night, another 8 hours I must fight to stay alive. No wonder I'm always so tired when I wake up.





*This flash fiction story came about from a segment in the Facebook group 'Supporting Indies, Reaching Readers' called Jessica's 'What if' Weekly. Every week Jessica Minor posts a 'What if' question; some ponder on the question, others write a tale inspired by the question, and some just move along as if the world didn't just stop turning for one of their fellow authors. This week's question was: What if the place in your dreams or nightmares were really an unknown dimension?

Snippet Saturday: Your Momma Didn't Raise You Right an excerpt from 'Wraith'

First off: this post is a great example of why you get the content warning when clicking on a link for my blog. This excerpt contains both sexual and violent content while balancing a bit of adult humor. So, continue reading with that in mind. 😉

Your Momma Didn't Raise You Right

an excerpt from 'Wraith'

Turning the corner, I glanced around, disappointed at the lack of people. Maybe it was too early, but usually at the truck stops I was familiar with, the first shift of panhandlers were in place at the break of dawn, swindling truck drivers and travelers before they could get their first cup of coffee and fully wake up.

“Shit!” I swore, and then bit my lip, narrowing my eyes.

“Such language from such a purrty thing. Your momma didn’t raise you right.” The voice came from the parking lot behind me.

“Excuse me?” I spun around and glared at the broad-shouldered, mostly silver-haired man stepping up on the store’s sidewalk.

“Don’t get me wrong, while you ain’t marrying material, a girl with a dirty mouth usually carries that dirty over elsewhere.” He waggled his eyebrow at me. “I’ve got fifty bucks if you show me how dirty you can be.”

“Are you fucking kiddin’ me?” I laughed at him and rolled my eyes. “Ugh!”

“Name’s Rusty.  If you change your mind, I’ll be out in a few. We can put that dirty little mouth of yours to work. Maybe, I could scrape up another twenty-five if it’s more than just your mouth.” He stuck his tongue out and flicked it furiously, lapping at the air in a suggestive way. “Who knows? If you’re a good little, dirty girl, I’ll give you a ride on the Rusty Racer.”

He walked in through the automatic doors as I gagged, forcing down the bile that threatened to come up my throat and out of my mouth. Who the hell names their tongue? I thought with a shudder.

I walked to the opposite side of the building and looked along the empty walkway. Frustrated and irritated, I started back to the car.

Just eat the truck driver. That guy seems like a prick, anyway. I’ll have someone clean it up later. Bastian’s voice glided through my mind.

I recoiled at the thought but decided the options were limited, and the guy pretty much invited it. Fine. I guess you’re right. I’ll be around in a bit. Gotta wait for him to come back out.

You could always take a little longer, have a little fun . . . try out the Rusty Racer. The sound of laughter echoed through my head.

Um, yeah. Nah, I’m good. I shook my head, trying to erase the image that passed through my thoughts.

He’s not too bad looking. Not hot, but I guess you like ‘em to look like they’re barely out of high school. His words struck hard when I realized he was referring to Marshall. Not that Bastian looked any older.

Bite me, I retorted.

Only if you ask nicely, he replied, catching me off guard.

“Still here, I see,” the trucker said behind me.

I tried to compose myself before turning to face him, knowing a blush had crept up my cheeks from Bastian’s last comment. “Yeah, turns out I like to be dirty. You don’t even have to pay me.” I smirked.

His jaw went slack, and he seemed at a loss for words.

“Unless you didn’t mean it. I can go find someone else, but I really wanted to see why you call it Racer.” I pouted my bottom lip out. “Like can you put a vibrator to shame or is it just over quick-like? I suppose if it’s done properly, quick is fine as long as it actually gets the job done.”

He stood there dumbfounded.

I huffed. “I see,” I said, pouting my bottom lip out further, “you’re all bark and no bite.” Turning, I took a step to walk away.

He gripped my wrist, causing me to spin back around and face him again, need burning within his hazy blue eyes. “Where you going?” He pressed my palm to the bulge at the front of his jeans. “You can’t cause this, and then just walk away.”

“Technically, yes, I can, but I won’t. Where are you parked?” I asked, shaking my arm from his grip.

“It’s the red and blue rig over that way.” He jutted his chin toward the left side of the parking lot.

“Well, let’s go get that little guy taken care of.” Taking the lead, I headed for the semi he’d indicated.

He unlocked the door when we reached the truck, and he made sure to ‘help’ me into the cab by grabbing my ass as I climbed in. When I slid the curtain to the side, I was surprised by what was there. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t a full set-up—king size bed, sink, mini fridge, and a T.V.

“Nice,” I said, walking to the bed and sitting down.

“Worth every penny.” He stood hovering just in front of the curtain before he reached back to pull it closed behind him.

I patted the bed beside me. “Well, get over here and show me what I’m working with.”

Uh, Coral, what are you doing? The words drifted through my mind, uncertain.

I chuckled internally. What I do best? Seduce and slaughter. I thought you knew that?

Can you not project? I don’t really want to watch this. Bastian’s words were contradicted by the way they drifted through my mind, more with a tone of interest than disgust.

What? You’re an adult. You can handle a blowjob. It . . . well, it just might be a little bloody. You’re not opposed to blood, are you? I mean, you do drink it, right? I let the words pass through my mind to his as I watched truck-driver Rusty drop his pants.

Um, Coral, that thing’s not a straw? Please, don’t act like it is. That’s just not right. I don’t care how much of a creep he is. Bastian’s words nearly had me sputtering with laughter, but I held it in.

“Aww, he’s so ready, but you’re still all the way over there. What are you waiting for? Kick your pants off your fucking ankles and get over here,” I said, and then licked my palm before inserting two fingers into my mouth and sucking them.

Rusty whimpered, honest to goodness whimpered, and then did what I’d told him. When he was close enough, I wrapped my moistened hand around his hardness, stroking down and then back up the length of him. My thumb glided over his tip, catching the bead of slickness that had left him.

Bastian pleaded in my mind about not wanting to watch, did I not have an ounce of humanity? Blah, blah, blah. I hadn’t actually planned on putting my hand on the thing, let alone my mouth, but Bastian’s freak out was too much fun.

I looked up at the man in front of me, his eyes were intent and focused on my hand as it slowly slid down the length of him and back up again. “Why don’t you lie down? Get comfortable?” I said and moved my hand away from the throbbing lump of flesh.

He sat down beside me and laid back, sliding further up the bed to where only his sock-covered feet hung off the edge.

I could practically hear Bastian’s labored breathing. Seems he didn’t mind so much ‘watching’ the ongoings, but he seemed just as surprised as Rusty did when my pocketknife sliced through his femoral artery.

No, neither one of them noticed as I’d slipped the blade from my pocket or even the small click it made as I opened it. I’d adjusted myself like I was going to take him into my mouth, and then there was blood everywhere as I plunged the blade through the thickness of his thigh. It made a much bigger mess than I’d anticipated before I could seal my lips around the incision.

The shock of it left truck-driver Rusty silent, and he was dead before he realized what had happened. Of that fact, I was nearly positive. Once the blood stopped filling my mouth, I pulled back, noticing the creamy splash of ejaculate across the man’s lower belly and up his shirt. His face locked in an expression between ecstasy and fear.

That was all kinds of wrong. Bastian’s words sounded somehow breathless as they flowed through my mind. You weren’t always this ruthless. It’s . . .

Hot? Sick? I offered.

Unnerving, yet, strangely compelling, he said.

I shook my head. I’m gonna need you to drive back here. I’m a mess. I need to shower when we get to that bitch’s house.

**Note: this excerpt is not a final draft. It is subject to change before the release of the final product.

A Freebie for Friday

'To Save Lives' is free until March 8th. It's a spin-off short story from my Halfborn series. Get a glimpse at two kinds of vamps from my series—the Abominates and the Wraiths.

What are you waiting for! Go grab a copy of this free short story here: 🠞 To Save Lives

Thank you so much if you get a copy. I appreciate your support. Please consider leaving a review. 💖

Snippet Saturday: A Scene with Steam an excerpt from 'Halfborn'

An intense cloak of lust stirred me. My eyelids slowly cracked open, revealing darkness. It was much later than it should have been, but my mind couldn't focus on that thought. The lust for blood and body hung heavy in the air around me. Nearly tangible. My throat constricted and dared to suffocate me. Consumed, I managed to get to my knees.

I knew Marshall was close. My eyes took a few seconds to adjust. He sat in a chair that had been pulled to the very edge of the bed. His hands gripped the arms of the chair hard enough that the wood had splintered. He restrained himself, from what overpowered him, with pure force.

All he wore was a pair of boxers. That made me almost certain he'd come directly to the room after he'd gotten out of the shower. The thought alone nearly gave me the strength to snap out of the lust-filled trance I'd awoken to.

A car drove by on the highway behind us. Its headlights cut through the gap in the curtains and bathed Marshall in light. His eyes were closed. His face filled with agony. My eyes betrayed me, sliding down the length of his body. Taking in the bulged muscles of his arms and chest from the grip he had on the chair. Further still, to where his erection protruded from the opening in his boxers.

I crawled the short distance to the edge of the bed. I straightened my body and rested on my knees, reaching my hand toward him until it met the skin at his collarbone. Running my fingers over his skin, slowly, they glided down, stopping right above his navel. I watched as goosebumps covered his flesh and his nipples hardened. The second I'd touched him the bloodlust ebbed. It was still there. It had only retreated slightly, allowing his sexual lust to rage.

I glanced up and met his gaze. His eyes were filled with heat, but, also, tinged with the agony still held on his face. Leaning forward, I brought both hands to his shoulders and then ran them down his arms. I urged him to relax his grip on the chair. When that didn't work, I slipped my knees out from under me and slid off the bed. I walked behind him and started to massage the tense muscles of his shoulders. I brought my mouth to his ear and ran my tongue along his earlobe. He kept his stiff posture, unmoving. My body ached with the strength of our combined lust.

He sucked in a ragged breath. “We shouldn't . . .” Through clenched teeth, he whimpered, “I can't . . .”

“Shh.” I slid the chair back and walked around to the front of it. Marshall tensed further, causing an audible crack from the splintered chair arms. I knelt in front of him and leaned into his legs, forcing them apart so I could slide closer to him.

“Coral, you don't understand. Right now, I want to rip your throat out just as much as I want to fuck you. This will only end badly for the both of us.”

I ignored his words and ran my tongue over the length of the erection that stood free through the hole in his boxers. A spasm rocked his body. The arms of the chair gave way, breaking into several pieces and falling to the floor. With nothing to hold onto, his hands found my hair as I drew the head of him past my lips. His breath hissed, leaving in a rush, and his body relaxed as my mouth took in more of him. I worked him in and out, taking as much of him as I could, and slid back up to tease his head with the tip of my tongue. His need for pleasure overpowered his need for blood, decimating it. I brought my mouth up one last time and nipped the head of him lightly with my teeth, causing him to gasp. My hand slid along his stomach to his chest. I looked up, meeting his expectant eyes. The look was very similar to that of a dog awaiting a treat that was held just inches out of reach.

Slowly, I stood—enough to be at eye level with him. My hand ran back down his body, and he glanced at it. Watching as it encircled him. I used the saliva left behind to slide my hand up and down him with ease. He watched for a brief moment and then returned his wanting gaze to me. I moved forward, and his lips met mine. His tongue pushed past my lips, and I twisted my own to embrace his.

Marshall worked at the button on my jeans. My right hand continued to slide gently up and down his shaft as I used my left hand on my shirt. I'd finished with all the buttons there and noticed he couldn't get my zipper down. Apparently, me being bent at the waist had caused difficulty for him. I broke the melding of our mouths, licking his lips before straightening my body to pull off my shirt and jeans. He watched with delighted anticipation when I reached back to unhook my bra. I hesitated. After a few seconds, I let the straps fall down my arms, and the fabric left my breasts. The bra hit the floor almost silently as I grabbed a hold of my panties and pulled them off, tossing them aside.

Marshall didn't move to get up, he just sat there. His eyes roamed over my body. I began to feel uncomfortable. My mind screamed at me to leave the room. That I was taking advantage of his emotions. Not that I didn't want him, because I did. I wanted his body and how it made me feel. He was sexy in his way. But sex would only make things more complicated. If our situation went wrong somewhere along the way, it would’ve just made everything that much more difficult.

I was about to bolt. Not that I would've gone far being naked in a Winnebago, but I could have left the room. Lust crashed against me, stronger than before. I wasn't just feeling his emotions now. He pushed them at me as hard as he could. He'd felt my resistance and let me know, even with my doubts, what he wanted without a word. My line of thought faltered, and I moved forward.

His hands moved quickly. Instead of taking off his boxers, he ripped them from his body. The sound of the fabric tearing made me tighten, bringing my own lust up a notch. The fact that the chair no longer had armrests made it convenient for me to straddle him. I placed one hand on his shoulder. The other I used to reach down between us. I lined him up, rubbing the head of him gently back and forth to spread my lips. With a little wiggle of my hips, the head of him slipped inside me.

I'd planned to start off slow and work my pace from there, but Marshall had a different idea. As soon as I had both hands on his shoulders, his hands went to my hips. I thought I was in control of the situation, but he'd shocked me with the full length of him. He slammed me down as he brought his hips up to meet me. The surprise of it left my mouth as something between a scream and a moan. How he had taken me, so rough, spiked the lust in me further. He took all control. Leaving me with nothing I could do but grip his shoulders and hold on. Suddenly, he stood, holding me against his body. I could feel him throbbing inside me, and I moaned as I clenched around him in response. Our pleasure mingled in the bond we shared.

My back ended up against the wall. His mouth was at my ear. “Grab that bar,” he growled.

I glanced up to find what he was talking about and grabbed the brass bar that was above my head. His hands went to the bottom of my ass. The tips of his fingers dug into my cheeks. I wrapped my legs around him, and he threw his head back as he began to thrust. His need drove him to push as hard and as deep as he could. The thin wall behind me protested with a cracking noise.

I tried to push away from the wall to no avail. Gathering everything I could manage, I spoke through heated, gasping breaths. “Marshall. We're going to . . . bust through . . . the wall . . . if you don't . . . restrain yourself.”

At first, I didn't think he heard through his concentration and our heavy breathing, but he soon slowed his erratic pace. His head straightened, and he met my gaze. The eye contact seemed too intimate. I wanted desperately to look away. Before I could, I was flooded with emotion so much stronger than lust. It was too much. I needed to pull away. Needed to stop. I knew I couldn't return what had washed over me. But I was pinned to the wall, and there was no escape.

The slow, precise movements of his hips began to tear away at my realization that allowing this to happen was wrong on so many different levels. I let go of the bar I held as a last-ditch effort. Thinking, somehow, I could have used my hands to push us away from the wall.

He felt my need to get away. Saw the fear in my eyes, but he could physically feel the lust between my legs. He could also feel the trembling need for release flow through me. My body betrayed me when my mind knew it was wrong. I was using him. Using his body. Using his lust. Using his undeniable love . . . for my own pleasure. A knot clenched in my stomach. I put my hands on the wall—one on either side of my head. My thumbs nearly touching my ears. I pushed as hard as I could.

Marshall's lips brushed my cheek as he stumbled back. His breath lingered there while he whispered, “I know. Don't worry about me. Only you matter.”

He turned, his hands still supported the weight of my body. I didn't have the time to say or do anything. My back hit the bed. His mouth was on mine, drawing on my tongue. Coaxing it to come and play with his. Lost in the feel of his mouth and the rhythmic movements of his hips, I kissed him back.

My thoughts fought to resurface but drowned in the wave of pleasure that crashed through my body. My body won the battle that it raged against my mind as two different pleasures, mingled and bound into one. Not sure which had started to strengthen first, but they emphasized each other. Building and building until it was almost unbearable.

I broke the kiss to let a sound of ecstasy escape me. My body clenched and tightened. Convulsions tore through me. The orgasm shook every inch of my body and left me with no control. Marshall's thrusts sped. The increased pace caused another orgasmic shudder to run through me before his body gave him release. He collapsed onto my chest. His face cradled in the curve of my neck.

I almost missed when the switch flipped. I had just enough time and strength to push him away. He hit the floor. The bloodlust that filled him struck me at full-force. I jumped to my feet, mentally pushing away at the starved need for blood.

“Marshall!” I screamed, “Snap the fuck out of it!”

His head whipped back and forth as if he tried to shake it away physically.

“If you eat me, you'll be lost.” Fear began to overtake me.

My instinct to flee kicked in, and I ran from the room. Reaching for the knob of the door that would take me outside, I was stopped by the knowledge of what Marshall would do if he was freed. I knew if I fled the Winnebago, he would follow, and he'd kill the first person he came across. Probably more than just the first. There was no way for me to know when he would, or even if he could, stop.

*This has been an excerpt from Halfborn. Interested to find out more, click here to grab a copy. Thanks for reading! ♥