Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Merry Christmas Mrs Todd

Merry Christmas Mrs Todd
Juggling the bag of groceries, Mary fumbled with the keys to her apartment. She bit back a sigh at the faint sound of a holiday tune throbbing through the neighbor's door. It had been years since she'd looked forward to the holiday.
“Stupid holiday, stupid music, stupid memories.” Muttering under her breath she managed to get the door open and stumbled through the door just as the bottom of the bag ripped, spilling the contents across the hallway floor.
Tears threatened, burning the backs of her eyes as she began gathering the fruit and vegetables. She tucked everything into the large basket she kept by the front door for her keys and mail.
Her fingers closed around a bag of grapes seconds before another hand closed around it. She glanced up into the concerned gaze of a tall, dark haired man. A touch of silver at his temples revealed his age. Straightening, she pulled the fruit from his hand and clutched it to her chest. Only through sheer strength of will did she keep herself from rubbing at the burning sensation on the back of her hand.
“Morning.” White teeth flashed with his grin. “Walt, I'm in 208. You look like you have your hands full.” He gestured to the other bags of groceries sitting on the floor.
“Uh Mary. Thank you, but I can manage.” Her voice tight, she offered a weak smile as she reached for the door and stepped through it. Bending down, she grabbed for the other just as he did.
“Here you go.” He held it out with a quick wink. “Merry Christmas.”
Mary closed the door with a soft click, her heart racing as the sound of his whistled version of White Christmas faded from around her. Licking her dry lips, she turned to stare at the cold, empty expanse of her apartment. A year John had been gone, and the pain hadn't eased. She wondered if it was the pain of his dying or the betrayal at finding he'd taken her best friend with him to Vegas for a week. A business trip that had nothing to do with the electronic company he'd run.

Monday, 14 May 2012

Mr. Right Now cont'd

Tossing his sweaty tee at the laundry basket, Klien glanced out his bedroom window.  His gaze swept the beach as he kicked off his sneakers. A full moon reflected off the rolling waves, casting a silver blanket over the beach.
White sand spread out along the curve of the bay. He could see the faint bobbing lights of a yacht at the edge of the cliffs. "Great, yet another trespasser. Don't they know this is a private beach?" Heaving a breath, he turned, intent on showering before he headed out again. Every muscle froze, his eye catching the slim figure wandering along the edge of the water, her feet splashing in the waves.
His shower forgotten, Klien grabbed a fresh shirt and slipped into his sandles before heading outside. The wooden stairs creaked beneath his feet as he hurried down to the beach. Who was the woman? What was she doing on his beach?
Did she belong to the yacht? He shook his head, the questions rolling did little to ease the frustration boiling through him. Trotting down the sand he swallowed as he got closer.  An expensive evening gown clung to her figure, the hem a few inches below her behind. Dark hair spilled across pale shoulders to the curve of a luscious ass. The woman's hourglass figure was kissed by the night.
"Hey."
The woman whirled, her eyes widening in surprise. Full lips parted, the flash of white teeth hidden quickly as she regained her composure.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"Yeah, you can. Do you know this is a private beach?"
The woman's brow crinkled and she shrugged. "Is it? I'm sorry, I didn't realize it. Just wanted to get away for a bit."
"And the luxury yacht isn't enough..."
"Its my fathers." All warmth bled from her voice as she glanced out to sea. "And I have little use for it. He's entertaining this evening."
"And you don't feel upto entertaining?"
She offered a cold, brittle laugh. "You could say that. Look, I'm sorry for trespassing. If you wouldn't mind terribly calling me a cab I'll leave."
Klein stared at her. Butterflies danced along his nerves as he stared at her. His irritation faded to be replaced by a burning need to spend more time with her. "No worries. I get kids coming by to make out and its a bit frustrating. I'm Klien Martria."
"Celine Kertall."
Shock ripped through the faint attraction as he stared at the woman before him. "Your father's..."
"Yes." Pain flashed in her eyes before she lowered them. "Could you call a cab for me?"
"Sure." Klein offered his hand. "Or I can drop you wherever you need to go? Or you could stick around and take a walk with me. I can't say as I blame you for wanting to take a stroll, its a beautiful night."
"Thank you." Slipping her hand into his, Celine offered a genuine smile.
Turning, Klein hid a grin at the electical shock racing up his arm. The night was turning around for him...

to be continued.

Monday, 7 May 2012

Mr. Right Now


Her heels in her hands, Celine strolled along the edge of the water. Sun warmed surf washed over her toes, the setting sun casting it in gold. The beauty did little to hold her attention, rather her mind was focused on her father and her upcoming wedding.
Charles Kretall had long since decided her future in the coldest, most proficient manner she'd ever witnessed. She shudered at the memories playing through her mind.
"You'll do as I have instructed Celine. I haven't worked tirelessly for you to refuse the generousity of another."
"Did you stop to think of me at all?" Tears threatened. "You're marrying me off to one of your friends to keep a business contract. Am I of so little..."
"Do no question me, Celine. On June fifteenth you and Robert will be wed. The wedding planner will be here momentarily, I would recommend you resign yourself to this and take pride in the event."
Celine stared at him from across his desk. Her eyes burned, throat tightened with rage and disgust. "You plan it. I'll have no part in being whored out for your business."
Agony sprouted along her jaw as his meaty hand lashed out. Reeling from the blow she straightened, her trembling hands smoothing her skirt over her hips. "I envy mother, I truly do." Turning she stalked from the stuffy interior of her father's office.
Shivering despite the heat of the tropical weather, Celine stared out over the rolling waves, her heart breaking. Pride the only thing keeping the tears at bay. Two months and her father hadn't changed his mind. No, he'd paraded her before Robert Jennkins like a broodmare in his stable, praising her intelligence, her beauty, and ignoring the pain in her eyes.
"Damn him to hell."

Stop by Theresa's blog for her sizzler...http://tstillwagon.wordpress.com/

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Forsaken Sun by Elise Whyles

Forsaken by honor, by death itself, will Anagor, Sunwalker, find forgiveness and love... find out in the upcoming micro-novel Forsaken Sun

"You shall be cursed from this day forward, Anagor. No more shall the day be your enemy." Cold, calculating the words cut straight to the bone. His shoulders slumped, body frozen, he waited for death - prayed for it but it turned away in a cloud of blue fabric and vanished into the darkness.
From his perch atop the stone carving, pale eyes stared out over the horizon. Pinks and blues streaked across an indigo sky. The sun stirred, his tentacles streaming through the darkness. Yes, soon, it would end. Soon, he would have no nightmares; he wouldn't taste the sweet nectar as her life flowed through him.
Beyond the walls of the castle he could hear the shuffle of those who sought their beds, the changing of the guard and cringed. There would be no rest for him.
The sun reached across the sky, its golden tendrils burning through the mist. Calm, accepting, Anagor sat awaiting death. Searing pain blossomed, unfurling through his body with each passing brush of the light. He ground his teeth together, a garbled scream trapped within his throat.
Soon, my love, soon I will be with you, he thought as the blisters and burning flesh danced along the edges of his vision. Darkness swirled, enveloping him, welcoming him into its cool embrace.
"Tis not so fortunate." Cold, impersonal the voice reach through the pain and darkness. "You would do well to recall, my dearest parasite, you have no future. Sleep, heal, your time to rise again will be soon. you will serve me in all ways until I decide you shall be free."
Icy water dripped down the back of his shirt sending shards of pain through his body. Beyond the bars of his prison, he could see her moving around. His prison keeper, tall, beautiful, her long flowing golden curls tickling the top of her ass.
His eyes followed her every move with disdain, with rage. Why? Why would she not let him die for his sins?
“Let me die.” Dropping his head down onto his upraised knees, he closed his eyes only to open them quickly. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to see the images haunting him. To do so would be to embrace an indifferent numbness.
“Still fighting me I see.”
“I pray you go to Stylox.” Anagor raised his head, his burning eyes falling on the woman opposite his prison. “Give me death, ‘tis what I deserve.”
“Not a bit.” Her full lips curled upward. “Death is for those who would be welcomed into their ending. Yours will be painful and long. Regain your honor and I will grant you death.”
“I cannot.” Anagor turned, folding his lean frame into the corner. There was no going back after his crime. He’d broken the one vow his kind upheld to most. To kill the one Fates have given was beyond redemption. It was a crime worse than any other within their realm.
“You will serve me in each manner I dictate, Leech, or you will suffer an eternity bound to your life – such as it may be.”