Tuesday 21 June 2011
Friday 10 June 2011
Shattered not broken book
"Why do we have to use the back door again?" Luc asked.
"Abused women do not appreciate men walking about their sanctuary, especially well built men like us." Mac suplied.
"Makes sense but I thought the place was guarded by our kind?"
Mac gave a scornful snort, "The mortals have never been able to see us when we do not want them to."
"Abused women do not appreciate men walking about their sanctuary, especially well built men like us." Mac suplied.
"Makes sense but I thought the place was guarded by our kind?"
Mac gave a scornful snort, "The mortals have never been able to see us when we do not want them to."
Love in the mirror: Shattered not broken book
Excitement surged through her blood, the toe curling, stomach crunching kind she had only ever read about. Feverish, delectable sensations coursing down her spine and across her skin with sizzling regularity while she sat as still as she possibly could. It was all she could do not to jump up and down shouting for all she was worth. That would give it all away though, ruin the night's plans. If her parents realised how excited she was she would never get to go and she would do anything to avoid that. So she sat still, demure and proper, eating a meal she hardly tasted. It had gone on forever, the usual bland conversations drier than ever and they were in heaven. Aunt Karen even contributed to it, agreeing to something her father had said and her mother had beemed. Caitlin knew her aunt hated the unstimulating talk as much as she did and was only being agreeable for one reason, the same reason she herself sat so still. Not to give daddy a reason to cancel their night out. Of course there was still Cassandra. Even though her twin would rather die than hang out with aunt Karen, her words, she loved nothing better than depriving Cait of the little pleasures she found in life, and they were few, seeing aunt Karen being one of them.
Saturday 4 June 2011
Fighting love: Shattered not broken book
Unsatisfied, as usual.
Would anything ever relieve this insatiable, inceassant, burning ache inside her? A constant emptiness that nothing could fill, certainly not the surrounding opulence, the beautiful wealthy males she dated or even the rough characters she bedded. She needed it rough, craved the feeling of crude hands griping her thighs as the usually well endowed male took her with little regard. She needed to feel pain/pleasure for her to cum, ached to be punished and treated as if she was just a piece of flesh. Her therapist said it was an unhealthy response to her controlled upbringing and life, she didn't know the half of it.
If society knew about her slumming ways they would not be so eager to court her aquitance. As their reigning princess she was the one to know and emmulate, raised to be exactly what she was. Never a hair out of place or a foot wrongly placed her public persona was pure perfection and a cloying prison. Andrew Townsend demanded it of his children and the punishment for disobedience was unbearable. Her father could be trusted to come up with the most demeaning ways to subject his will on his children whom he kept leashed. How she longed to completely break free of the man.
Today however would not be that day. She had a charity ball to plan and little time to do so.
Getting up she walked to her bathroom, stoping long enough to check her reflection, well toned, her skin pale, smooth and flawless, full and pert breasts with a smothly curved petit figure. She knew she was beautiful
Would anything ever relieve this insatiable, inceassant, burning ache inside her? A constant emptiness that nothing could fill, certainly not the surrounding opulence, the beautiful wealthy males she dated or even the rough characters she bedded. She needed it rough, craved the feeling of crude hands griping her thighs as the usually well endowed male took her with little regard. She needed to feel pain/pleasure for her to cum, ached to be punished and treated as if she was just a piece of flesh. Her therapist said it was an unhealthy response to her controlled upbringing and life, she didn't know the half of it.
If society knew about her slumming ways they would not be so eager to court her aquitance. As their reigning princess she was the one to know and emmulate, raised to be exactly what she was. Never a hair out of place or a foot wrongly placed her public persona was pure perfection and a cloying prison. Andrew Townsend demanded it of his children and the punishment for disobedience was unbearable. Her father could be trusted to come up with the most demeaning ways to subject his will on his children whom he kept leashed. How she longed to completely break free of the man.
Today however would not be that day. She had a charity ball to plan and little time to do so.
Getting up she walked to her bathroom, stoping long enough to check her reflection, well toned, her skin pale, smooth and flawless, full and pert breasts with a smothly curved petit figure. She knew she was beautiful
Friday 3 June 2011
Finding love: Shattered not broken
Prologue
Seated in a cramped booth in a rundown diner somewhere in the southwestern United states with little money and no place to stay Shanti wondered if life could get any worse. She had thought the land of opportunity would afford a better life but as yet nothing had been as planned. The advert she had answered had requested an unmarried, relatively well educated woman between the ages of 25 to 35 from the northern mountain region of India to teach preschoolers in a small Indian community. She was 26 with the best education a village girl could ever hope for, had been divorced for a year and had not thought to inform them of the latter. Nor had she though the fact that she was half Aryan and half Dravidian important. It had been.
In the three months she had been in communication with her prospective imployers they had been highly impressed with her command of English, her ability to speak five of their native languages and her knowledge of the basic subjects. Living in a relatively affluent, predominantly Indian surburb north of Seattle they wanted a trusted Indian to teach their children within the parameters of their culture. What they had not explained was that in specifying the northern mountains they had wanted a sheltered Aryan woman, the age group meant she would be unattractive enough not to be married despite her education. Shanti knew, without being vain, she was beautiful. She had her mother's hazel eyes, her rich, flawless amber skin was intermediate of the two and her hair was Dravidian curly. Tall and slender with womanly curves she was as exortic as an Indian woman was likely to be. The Mrs Singhs had not been pleased.
She had wondered while at home why her plane landed in New Mexico when Seattle was more than a thousand kilometres away and they had been dismissive, not today. Mrs Shahruk Singh had coldly told her, after they had suppossedly stopped for dinner, that middle of nowhere New Mexico was where they dumped opportunistic villagers who thought to lie their way to America. It truly was the middle of nowhere. Situated in the desert the small town of Solida was no more than a street on which the most basic stores stood with the diner at the edge. She did not see any industry about to explain its existence but judging from those in the diner a significant number of people lived here.
Nothing she had said had made a difference and the two had calausly left her there.
Dusk had settled, the lights already lit against the encroaching darkness. Outside the wispy clouds blazed crimson and orange as the barely past the horizon sun gave them its last kiss. The flatness of the desert gradually disappeared as she watched. It was all foreign to her, used as she was to the tree shrouded mountains of her homeland. She was out of place here, not only in this land but in the slowly filling diner. The patrons were mostly white with a couple of mexicans and one black woman and except for a couple of women, a teenage girl and the waitresses in short skirts they were all wearing tight jeans, tops, shirts and cowboy boots. In her flowered pink kurtar and deep pink chiridar she stuck out like a sore thumb and they all noticed. Their eyes on her compounded her helplessness, they would be going home to their loved and she had the barren cold to look forward to.
"Honey you ain't the first." a kind feminine voice drawled.
Looking up she saw the patroness standing besides her, a kindly matron with streaked brown hair and a glint of steel in her eyes.
"Excuse me?" Shanti asked.
The woman squeezed herself into the bench across from her then met her eyes with compassion. "The Mrs Singhs, they left another young lady up in Conner's Creek two hours ride from here 'bout four months back. Poor gal nearly cried her eyes out having nowhere to go and little money."
Shanti stared at her horrified at what was implied, surely the Mrs Singhs did not make a habit of this!
"Two months before 'twas a young man in Santa Esteva and those are just the ones we know about." A man in a booth across from them put in.
"But why would they do that?" she asked
"Honey people do strange things all the time." the patroness replied with a shake of her head. "I have a room above the diner, its not much but you can use it 'til you figure out what to do. Do you know anyone in the states?"
Shanti shook her head, no one from her village or any of her many relatives had ever come here. Not that they would have taken her in given her disgrace. The patroness, Emma, pated her hand with a smile.
"The Shepards are going up there north ain't they?" a grizzled old man asked
"Yes to Seattle actually, but Freddy Castais you cannot expect her to go to the Singhs!"
" 'Course not," the old man's wrinkled face creased even more with anoyance. "There's that there fancy place at the foot of the Cascades for women." he explained proudly head up and eyes bright.
"She ain't battered." a rough looking cowboy put in.
Freddy scrowled even more, "It
Seated in a cramped booth in a rundown diner somewhere in the southwestern United states with little money and no place to stay Shanti wondered if life could get any worse. She had thought the land of opportunity would afford a better life but as yet nothing had been as planned. The advert she had answered had requested an unmarried, relatively well educated woman between the ages of 25 to 35 from the northern mountain region of India to teach preschoolers in a small Indian community. She was 26 with the best education a village girl could ever hope for, had been divorced for a year and had not thought to inform them of the latter. Nor had she though the fact that she was half Aryan and half Dravidian important. It had been.
In the three months she had been in communication with her prospective imployers they had been highly impressed with her command of English, her ability to speak five of their native languages and her knowledge of the basic subjects. Living in a relatively affluent, predominantly Indian surburb north of Seattle they wanted a trusted Indian to teach their children within the parameters of their culture. What they had not explained was that in specifying the northern mountains they had wanted a sheltered Aryan woman, the age group meant she would be unattractive enough not to be married despite her education. Shanti knew, without being vain, she was beautiful. She had her mother's hazel eyes, her rich, flawless amber skin was intermediate of the two and her hair was Dravidian curly. Tall and slender with womanly curves she was as exortic as an Indian woman was likely to be. The Mrs Singhs had not been pleased.
She had wondered while at home why her plane landed in New Mexico when Seattle was more than a thousand kilometres away and they had been dismissive, not today. Mrs Shahruk Singh had coldly told her, after they had suppossedly stopped for dinner, that middle of nowhere New Mexico was where they dumped opportunistic villagers who thought to lie their way to America. It truly was the middle of nowhere. Situated in the desert the small town of Solida was no more than a street on which the most basic stores stood with the diner at the edge. She did not see any industry about to explain its existence but judging from those in the diner a significant number of people lived here.
Nothing she had said had made a difference and the two had calausly left her there.
Dusk had settled, the lights already lit against the encroaching darkness. Outside the wispy clouds blazed crimson and orange as the barely past the horizon sun gave them its last kiss. The flatness of the desert gradually disappeared as she watched. It was all foreign to her, used as she was to the tree shrouded mountains of her homeland. She was out of place here, not only in this land but in the slowly filling diner. The patrons were mostly white with a couple of mexicans and one black woman and except for a couple of women, a teenage girl and the waitresses in short skirts they were all wearing tight jeans, tops, shirts and cowboy boots. In her flowered pink kurtar and deep pink chiridar she stuck out like a sore thumb and they all noticed. Their eyes on her compounded her helplessness, they would be going home to their loved and she had the barren cold to look forward to.
"Honey you ain't the first." a kind feminine voice drawled.
Looking up she saw the patroness standing besides her, a kindly matron with streaked brown hair and a glint of steel in her eyes.
"Excuse me?" Shanti asked.
The woman squeezed herself into the bench across from her then met her eyes with compassion. "The Mrs Singhs, they left another young lady up in Conner's Creek two hours ride from here 'bout four months back. Poor gal nearly cried her eyes out having nowhere to go and little money."
Shanti stared at her horrified at what was implied, surely the Mrs Singhs did not make a habit of this!
"Two months before 'twas a young man in Santa Esteva and those are just the ones we know about." A man in a booth across from them put in.
"But why would they do that?" she asked
"Honey people do strange things all the time." the patroness replied with a shake of her head. "I have a room above the diner, its not much but you can use it 'til you figure out what to do. Do you know anyone in the states?"
Shanti shook her head, no one from her village or any of her many relatives had ever come here. Not that they would have taken her in given her disgrace. The patroness, Emma, pated her hand with a smile.
"The Shepards are going up there north ain't they?" a grizzled old man asked
"Yes to Seattle actually, but Freddy Castais you cannot expect her to go to the Singhs!"
" 'Course not," the old man's wrinkled face creased even more with anoyance. "There's that there fancy place at the foot of the Cascades for women." he explained proudly head up and eyes bright.
"She ain't battered." a rough looking cowboy put in.
Freddy scrowled even more, "It
Wednesday 1 June 2011
Trusting love
"If you ever need me, regardless of where you are or the time of day, call me." Trevyn had said and Trev always kept his promises to her. In the year she had known him he had never let her down.
Why had she not trusted him? Mostly why had she not listened to him?
"He is going to kill you if you stay." he had recently stated.
"No," she had replied with stubborn defiance "He loves me!"
"I would never lay a finger on you, not like that." his midnight eyes had been intent upon her, a look she had seen before with the same effect.
Her heart missed a beat before racing, a tingle raced down her spine, curled around her stomach and exploded in delicious fireworks.
That was why she had never listened, his interest in her.
Her core creamed at the velvet tone of his musical, molten voice, the heat in her stomach settling on that lusty part of her. That made her angry, she was not a slut who lusted after another man when she was in a committed relationship!
"Mom said never trust a man who wants to get into your pants by trashing your man."
"Hence the crude phrasing." he stated dryly, suppressed anger burning in his voice.
She gasped, hurt. She knew her mother was rough around the edges but that was uncalled for, the woman had worked herself half to death so that her daughter could have a future, she deserved better. Fear stopped her from hitting him or scratching his eyes out, he was so big and if he turned on her she would not survive.
"You always listen to her do you not? Even to the point of staying with a man who uses you as a punching bag." he grated, violence brimming in his eyes. She was immobilized as he stalked near, her eyes wide on him. Framing her face he touched his forehead to hers.
"You make me so furious, so angry, still I would not hurt you for the world." he gritted his teeth. "A white man is not the one beating you"
His body almost touched hers, so strong and well defined, heat that magnetized her body. He was so tall she had to crane to look into his eyes, their ardent depths mesmerized, aroused and scared her. He was so intense, his model perfect face frozen with unbearable need and love, love as clear as day, so fierce and irrevocable. How could he feel that way about her and why? He had everything he could want, rich, cultured and so sexy he was every woman's fantasy. And she was just a white man's black bastard unworthy of any acknowledgement.
She pulled away from his tender touch shaking her head as tears flowed down her cheek. "I love Ray and he loves me!" she stated in a pain filled voice. "If you cannot accept that then I want you out of my life."
His face hardened, eyes devoid of anything pinned her to her spot. "That might be for the best." he agreed, cold and remote.
Pain laced through her heart and she had to fight hard for him not to see how much it hurt, she had not thought he would cut himself from her life, obviously he did not love her as he claimed. Well he had never really said he loved her, she had just inferred that from his words and thought she saw it in his eyes, that was just her mistake not his. Her heart bled, evidently he meant more to her than she had thought but now it was too late.
That had been three weeks ago and now his words were coming true, Ray was going to kill her. He had said that before as he beat her but the look on his face had not been as it was now nor had he beat her in this way. Tied to the table leg she lay on her back on the wooden floor, the floor she had always kept army boot shiny, unable to move as her legs were broken. He was now concentrating on her face, sitting on her broken ribs and shouting profanities as he punched her.
Trev had most likely meant to call him on his phone but realizing Ray meant to kill her this time and unable to get to a phone she had started to scream his name. Ray had assumed he was a lover and had been even more enraged, kicking at her ribs with his hunting boots it was a wonder her broken ribs had not punctured her lungs.
She could no longer shout but she still moaned the name of the one man who had never let her down, who had loved her intensely for a few precious moments before she had ruined it all for the monster who was now killing her. She wanted to die with Trevyn's face on her mind, the love she had never dared to feel filling her heart.
Why had it been so hard to love him when she had had the chance? He would never have done this to her and she had let her mother's bad experience with her father taint her and yet fall for the same kind of man. Had she really loved Ray, or had she just taken up with a man most like her father whilst fooling herself on the pretense of race?
She prayed for another chance at life, a change to love the man who was as dangerous as he was gentle. Power radiated from every plane of his lithe frame, confidence she had envied. He was easy to be around, she could talk about anything with him and be whatever she wanted- he had encouraged her- and she had started to let go.
Trevyn." she cried weakly fighting to stay awake, to hold on hoping that by some miracle he would show up. It was irrational but she held on. Every breath was excruciating, aggravating her ribs, his weight upon her squeezing her lungs.
A crash sounded nearby vibrating through her skin more than it registered in her ears. She wondered if Ray had broken the table, though her hands were still tied to its leg and he had not stopped pounding at her.
A snarl of rage re vibrated through the room, too guttural to come from a human and so chilling. Had she not been so close to death she would have braved the pain and ran, Ray would not be killing her after all, whatever animal had invaded her home would do the job. Only she would be attacked when she was already dying, her unhappy fate prevailed.
A dark shadow bawled into Ray knocking him off her. The fear she had felt as Ray hit her was nothing compared to the terror she experienced as she listened to his screams. Horror and pain laced his voice and the animal snarls mingled with it to create a waking nightmare. She wanted to turn and see what was happening but agonizing pain precluded that.
Wolves. Their scent overpowered the coppery scent of her blood and terror. They were all around her, at least a half dozen. Two bracketed her to go where Ray lay gibbering and another sat besides her. Its eyes upon her were strangely intelligent, aware of her, she gave up the fight and blacked out.
***
A pleasant breeze wafted off the coast onto the terrace dinning area, pleasantly cool in the 98 degree weather.
Why had she not trusted him? Mostly why had she not listened to him?
"He is going to kill you if you stay." he had recently stated.
"No," she had replied with stubborn defiance "He loves me!"
"I would never lay a finger on you, not like that." his midnight eyes had been intent upon her, a look she had seen before with the same effect.
Her heart missed a beat before racing, a tingle raced down her spine, curled around her stomach and exploded in delicious fireworks.
That was why she had never listened, his interest in her.
Her core creamed at the velvet tone of his musical, molten voice, the heat in her stomach settling on that lusty part of her. That made her angry, she was not a slut who lusted after another man when she was in a committed relationship!
"Mom said never trust a man who wants to get into your pants by trashing your man."
"Hence the crude phrasing." he stated dryly, suppressed anger burning in his voice.
She gasped, hurt. She knew her mother was rough around the edges but that was uncalled for, the woman had worked herself half to death so that her daughter could have a future, she deserved better. Fear stopped her from hitting him or scratching his eyes out, he was so big and if he turned on her she would not survive.
"You always listen to her do you not? Even to the point of staying with a man who uses you as a punching bag." he grated, violence brimming in his eyes. She was immobilized as he stalked near, her eyes wide on him. Framing her face he touched his forehead to hers.
"You make me so furious, so angry, still I would not hurt you for the world." he gritted his teeth. "A white man is not the one beating you"
His body almost touched hers, so strong and well defined, heat that magnetized her body. He was so tall she had to crane to look into his eyes, their ardent depths mesmerized, aroused and scared her. He was so intense, his model perfect face frozen with unbearable need and love, love as clear as day, so fierce and irrevocable. How could he feel that way about her and why? He had everything he could want, rich, cultured and so sexy he was every woman's fantasy. And she was just a white man's black bastard unworthy of any acknowledgement.
She pulled away from his tender touch shaking her head as tears flowed down her cheek. "I love Ray and he loves me!" she stated in a pain filled voice. "If you cannot accept that then I want you out of my life."
His face hardened, eyes devoid of anything pinned her to her spot. "That might be for the best." he agreed, cold and remote.
Pain laced through her heart and she had to fight hard for him not to see how much it hurt, she had not thought he would cut himself from her life, obviously he did not love her as he claimed. Well he had never really said he loved her, she had just inferred that from his words and thought she saw it in his eyes, that was just her mistake not his. Her heart bled, evidently he meant more to her than she had thought but now it was too late.
That had been three weeks ago and now his words were coming true, Ray was going to kill her. He had said that before as he beat her but the look on his face had not been as it was now nor had he beat her in this way. Tied to the table leg she lay on her back on the wooden floor, the floor she had always kept army boot shiny, unable to move as her legs were broken. He was now concentrating on her face, sitting on her broken ribs and shouting profanities as he punched her.
Trev had most likely meant to call him on his phone but realizing Ray meant to kill her this time and unable to get to a phone she had started to scream his name. Ray had assumed he was a lover and had been even more enraged, kicking at her ribs with his hunting boots it was a wonder her broken ribs had not punctured her lungs.
She could no longer shout but she still moaned the name of the one man who had never let her down, who had loved her intensely for a few precious moments before she had ruined it all for the monster who was now killing her. She wanted to die with Trevyn's face on her mind, the love she had never dared to feel filling her heart.
Why had it been so hard to love him when she had had the chance? He would never have done this to her and she had let her mother's bad experience with her father taint her and yet fall for the same kind of man. Had she really loved Ray, or had she just taken up with a man most like her father whilst fooling herself on the pretense of race?
She prayed for another chance at life, a change to love the man who was as dangerous as he was gentle. Power radiated from every plane of his lithe frame, confidence she had envied. He was easy to be around, she could talk about anything with him and be whatever she wanted- he had encouraged her- and she had started to let go.
Trevyn." she cried weakly fighting to stay awake, to hold on hoping that by some miracle he would show up. It was irrational but she held on. Every breath was excruciating, aggravating her ribs, his weight upon her squeezing her lungs.
A crash sounded nearby vibrating through her skin more than it registered in her ears. She wondered if Ray had broken the table, though her hands were still tied to its leg and he had not stopped pounding at her.
A snarl of rage re vibrated through the room, too guttural to come from a human and so chilling. Had she not been so close to death she would have braved the pain and ran, Ray would not be killing her after all, whatever animal had invaded her home would do the job. Only she would be attacked when she was already dying, her unhappy fate prevailed.
A dark shadow bawled into Ray knocking him off her. The fear she had felt as Ray hit her was nothing compared to the terror she experienced as she listened to his screams. Horror and pain laced his voice and the animal snarls mingled with it to create a waking nightmare. She wanted to turn and see what was happening but agonizing pain precluded that.
Wolves. Their scent overpowered the coppery scent of her blood and terror. They were all around her, at least a half dozen. Two bracketed her to go where Ray lay gibbering and another sat besides her. Its eyes upon her were strangely intelligent, aware of her, she gave up the fight and blacked out.
***
A pleasant breeze wafted off the coast onto the terrace dinning area, pleasantly cool in the 98 degree weather.
Cont...
"Trevyn." she cried weakly fighting to stay awake, to hold on hoping that by some miracle he would show up. It was irrational but she held on. Every breath was excrutiating, aggravating her ribs, his weight upon her squezzing her lungs.
A crash sounded nearby vibrating through her skin more than it registered in her ears. She wondered if Ray had broken the table, though her hands were still tied to its leg and he had not stopped pounding at her.
A snarl of rage revibrated through the room, too guttural to come from a human and so chilling. Had she not been so close to death she would have braved the pain and ran, Ray would not be killing her after all, whatever animal had invaded her home would do the job. Only she would be attacked when she was already dying, her unhappy fate prevailed.
A dark shadow bawled into Ray knocking him off her. The fear she had felt as Ray hit her was nothing compared to the terror she experienced as she listened to his screams. Horror and pain laced his voice and the animal snarls mingled with it to create a waking nightmare. She wanted to turn and see what was happening but agonising pain precluded that.
Wolves. Their scent overpowered the coppery scent of her blood and terror. They were all around her, at least a half dozen. Two bracketed her to go where Ray lay gibbering and another sat besides her. Its eyes upon her were strangely intelligent, aware of her, she gave up the fight and blacked out.
***
A pleasant breeze waffed off the coast onto the terrace dinning area, pleasantly cool in the 98 degree weather.
A crash sounded nearby vibrating through her skin more than it registered in her ears. She wondered if Ray had broken the table, though her hands were still tied to its leg and he had not stopped pounding at her.
A snarl of rage revibrated through the room, too guttural to come from a human and so chilling. Had she not been so close to death she would have braved the pain and ran, Ray would not be killing her after all, whatever animal had invaded her home would do the job. Only she would be attacked when she was already dying, her unhappy fate prevailed.
A dark shadow bawled into Ray knocking him off her. The fear she had felt as Ray hit her was nothing compared to the terror she experienced as she listened to his screams. Horror and pain laced his voice and the animal snarls mingled with it to create a waking nightmare. She wanted to turn and see what was happening but agonising pain precluded that.
Wolves. Their scent overpowered the coppery scent of her blood and terror. They were all around her, at least a half dozen. Two bracketed her to go where Ray lay gibbering and another sat besides her. Its eyes upon her were strangely intelligent, aware of her, she gave up the fight and blacked out.
***
A pleasant breeze waffed off the coast onto the terrace dinning area, pleasantly cool in the 98 degree weather.
Saturday 21 May 2011
Prologue to elemental queens
The world of the ancients was chaotic, had been for more than a thousand years. Fearing the advent elemental rising the wizard race instigated an elemental genocide, using the unbreadled fiery lusts of the fire elemental Carissa as an excuse they drew the other ancients in. A frenzy of death ensured, none of the races acquited themselves well til no trace of the children of nature could be seen, only then had saner minds prevailed.
Chaos was a dark wizard's tool and their auguries predicted a future where four elemental queens would hold sway over all ancients. Each with the ability to manipulate all the elements, they would be more powerful than anyone has ever been or will ever be.
Chaos was a dark wizard's tool and their auguries predicted a future where four elemental queens would hold sway over all ancients. Each with the ability to manipulate all the elements, they would be more powerful than anyone has ever been or will ever be.
Thursday 19 May 2011
Elemental queens: Aidanna
Restless.
The magnifient view from his manhattan penthouse did not soothe him, nor did it please him. The best money could buy felt as inadequate as if it were of shelled out filthy hovels.
Many men would kill to have what he had, a triplex situated on the tiered top of a premier buliding it was the height of luxury with the empire state building and other magnifient real estates gracing the skyline. Behind him the dark parquet floor that graced most of the place was covered by a splendid oriental carpet in earth tones. Dark antique furniture blended well with tasteful ultra modern seats to create a warm lived in look. To his right, between the living room and the dining room was an oak and stained glass bar that could be accessed from either room, the one place he patronised when he was here.
He hated the overpriced, well appointed showpiece. It was too big for a single man, a place for a family, but he had none. Had he any brains he would sell the place yet he never could. He craved it as much as he hated it, his sanctuary when he felt adrift as he did now. No one would disturb him here, they had since learned not to try and contact him in any way until he came out. Aside from the neccessary staff he never allowed anyone here and the staff knew not to disturbed the position of even the smallest thing. He needed everything as it was, to hold on to the dream that was gone just a little longer.
Gulping down the remainder of his whiskey, he relished the burn that traced from the back of his throat to the base of his stomach. It reminded him he was alive in a world that had lost its allure against the deadness he felt every waking hour.
The magnifient view from his manhattan penthouse did not soothe him, nor did it please him. The best money could buy felt as inadequate as if it were of shelled out filthy hovels.
Many men would kill to have what he had, a triplex situated on the tiered top of a premier buliding it was the height of luxury with the empire state building and other magnifient real estates gracing the skyline. Behind him the dark parquet floor that graced most of the place was covered by a splendid oriental carpet in earth tones. Dark antique furniture blended well with tasteful ultra modern seats to create a warm lived in look. To his right, between the living room and the dining room was an oak and stained glass bar that could be accessed from either room, the one place he patronised when he was here.
He hated the overpriced, well appointed showpiece. It was too big for a single man, a place for a family, but he had none. Had he any brains he would sell the place yet he never could. He craved it as much as he hated it, his sanctuary when he felt adrift as he did now. No one would disturb him here, they had since learned not to try and contact him in any way until he came out. Aside from the neccessary staff he never allowed anyone here and the staff knew not to disturbed the position of even the smallest thing. He needed everything as it was, to hold on to the dream that was gone just a little longer.
Gulping down the remainder of his whiskey, he relished the burn that traced from the back of his throat to the base of his stomach. It reminded him he was alive in a world that had lost its allure against the deadness he felt every waking hour.
Saturday 14 May 2011
Kale's queen
"We have to go!" Kev hissed.
He knew the other man was right, the danger they were in was all too real but he could not leave, not yet, not without her.
"Go on, I shall find my own way." he replied intent only on what he had to do. His freedom would mean nothing without her.
"Kale?" Kev questioned anxiety and concern in his voice.
He knew the other man was right, the danger they were in was all too real but he could not leave, not yet, not without her.
"Go on, I shall find my own way." he replied intent only on what he had to do. His freedom would mean nothing without her.
"Kale?" Kev questioned anxiety and concern in his voice.
Wednesday 11 May 2011
A Jaguar's mate (part two)
He swore, savage and succinct. The arm across her chest tightened her world spun and she lay in his arms her legs dangling ineffectively.
"Police freeze!" an authoritative voice ordered.
He turned slightly to look over his shoulder affording her one too.
Two burly officers stood behind them, their police issue 30 callibre pistols drawn, their demeanor uncompromising. As brawny as they were though, they could not compared to the man who had her. Still they were armed. Heart soaring she resumed her struggles, straining to speak against his hand.
"Put her down!" the same cop ordered.
They had guns, he had nothing, she was saved! Never again would she cut through the park, not even during the day and a car, she would deposit one first thing tomorrow regardless of the cost. No more stupid mistakes, life was too precious.
And her hope premature, instead of putting her down he ran. Bullets sounded behind them, she screamed in her throat then sheltered against him. His body jerked as one of them found its mark and the tears she had been holding in flowed.
How could they shoot at a hostage?
What if his body had not been big enough to shield her?
Shaking uncontrollably, tears raining down her cheeks she curled into him. Why was this happening to her? She was nothing special, if you discounted the fact that she aged quite well. At fourty-eight she looked like a twenty year old and had no explanation for it. Could that be the reason why he had kidnapped her? Was he going to kill her?
She did not want to die, she had yet to live!
"Everything will be fine Aage, I will not hurt you." he said as he met her eyes with eyes the gentlest aquamarine. He removed his hand from her mouth.
"Please," she sobbed, "let me g-g-go."
"I am sorry I cannot." he sounded sincere.
She cried in earnest, fearful gasps of anguish raking her body.
With extreme tenderness he lifted her to lie on his shoulder, his hand craddling her head as if to keep her safe, ironic when he was the one who threatened her.
Large, absolute trees sorrounded them, monstrocities that had endured man for centuries. If she was to die it was only fitting that it would be in a forest, the one place that held horror for her.
They were already far enough not to hear the sounds of people coming from work, the blaring music and occassional verbal fight. Sirens wailed though, likely searching for her and her kidnapper. The two policemen had seen them enter the forest, given chase but no way could they match the wild man's speed. He was moving too fast to be human and not breaking a sweat, her weight not hindering him in any way.
"Police freeze!" an authoritative voice ordered.
He turned slightly to look over his shoulder affording her one too.
Two burly officers stood behind them, their police issue 30 callibre pistols drawn, their demeanor uncompromising. As brawny as they were though, they could not compared to the man who had her. Still they were armed. Heart soaring she resumed her struggles, straining to speak against his hand.
"Put her down!" the same cop ordered.
They had guns, he had nothing, she was saved! Never again would she cut through the park, not even during the day and a car, she would deposit one first thing tomorrow regardless of the cost. No more stupid mistakes, life was too precious.
And her hope premature, instead of putting her down he ran. Bullets sounded behind them, she screamed in her throat then sheltered against him. His body jerked as one of them found its mark and the tears she had been holding in flowed.
How could they shoot at a hostage?
What if his body had not been big enough to shield her?
Shaking uncontrollably, tears raining down her cheeks she curled into him. Why was this happening to her? She was nothing special, if you discounted the fact that she aged quite well. At fourty-eight she looked like a twenty year old and had no explanation for it. Could that be the reason why he had kidnapped her? Was he going to kill her?
She did not want to die, she had yet to live!
"Everything will be fine Aage, I will not hurt you." he said as he met her eyes with eyes the gentlest aquamarine. He removed his hand from her mouth.
"Please," she sobbed, "let me g-g-go."
"I am sorry I cannot." he sounded sincere.
She cried in earnest, fearful gasps of anguish raking her body.
With extreme tenderness he lifted her to lie on his shoulder, his hand craddling her head as if to keep her safe, ironic when he was the one who threatened her.
Large, absolute trees sorrounded them, monstrocities that had endured man for centuries. If she was to die it was only fitting that it would be in a forest, the one place that held horror for her.
They were already far enough not to hear the sounds of people coming from work, the blaring music and occassional verbal fight. Sirens wailed though, likely searching for her and her kidnapper. The two policemen had seen them enter the forest, given chase but no way could they match the wild man's speed. He was moving too fast to be human and not breaking a sweat, her weight not hindering him in any way.
Monday 9 May 2011
A Jaguar's mate
Ch 1
With the stillness of a statue he stood. Imobile as if petrified his eyes, though scarcely blinking, the only sign he was not a wax model. Their intensity was frightening, inhuman, searing into anything foolish enough to gaze into them, thankfully it was too dark that few passed through. Upon seeing him they scurried away, chilled by a touch of something beyond what they knew, even the women who gave him an apreciative once over still hurried away.
He barely noticed, concentrating on the intoxicating scent that was the single thread to his sanity. A warm blanket upon the chaotic distruction his mind had long decayed into, the one tenuous grip shielding the many innocent from the agonising death he would bring.
She passed here frequently, her scent stronger than anywhere else -as fresh as that morning- he noted. He would wait for her to come by, too weak to chase her down but unable to concentrate on anything but her. Most likely she passed through to and from her work and would soon be by.
His blood churned, need throbing through him at the thought of burrying himself inside her, claiming her after decades of being denied her mere presence. Sweet heat soothing his anguished memories whilst he repeatedly drove into her.
A groan sounded low in his throat, more a growl, as his already hard body hardened even more. Years without any warmth or human touch enflamed his desire. With unsatisfactory images of her across a screen, a silhouette of her ambrosial body, charcoal grey eyes, luscious full lips incredibly long dark hair, creamed coffie skin he had had to suffice. Knowing his debilitating need for her his captors had gone as far as to bring a sweater of hers to his torture chamber. Soaked in her blood, the man who had brought it had casually anounced her death.
He had gone mad. Completely insane, raging and yanking against his chains uncaring as the iron cut into his flesh. For days he had raged, until he had remembered the scent of ice in the blood.
They had collected enough blood from her over time just to toment him! Pretending anguish, he had savoured her scent, wraped it around his being, letting it soothe his broken spirit. Until they had realised his ruse.
He would hurt her, regreatable but inevitable. A taste of her would bring him back to himself and that was paramount, he could not allow himself to hurt other innocents. Wildflowers under the summer sun, that was her scent, with a femininity all her own. She was near and alone. Anger rose in him at her idiocy, even without his kind the park was dangerous at night. She would never make that mistake again after he was done with her.
Fatigue cloaked her, aching her joints and back. She needed rest, a good day of doing nothing more strenuous than fixing her meals. Thank goodness tomorrow was her day off and she could do just that. She loved her new job, would not trade it for anything, but it could be very tiring. A pleasant kind of tiring though, muscles sweetly aching, her heart full with the knowledge she had done an excellent job. It had been a great idea to move, she would have to remember to thank Kev for talking her into it.
Speaking of Kev, he would not be happy with her walking the park at this time of night. No doubt he had already called half a dozen times and was now camped at her front door or coming to intercept her. It was comforting how protective he was, though he tended to be extreme at times.
Looking around at the dark tree lined part of the walkway she was on, Aage suddenly wished she had called him. He wouldn't have minded and she wouldn't have to face the danger she was certain she was in. Her instincts screamed for her to run even though she was sure it would be futile.
Unable to take another step she stopped. Carefully, as if not to court the danger, she started to backtrack, that was when he appeared from behind the tree.
She froze.
He was big! Tall. At least six five, towering over her five foot seven. Muscles rippled on every plane of his body, shoulders so broad no burden could bow them flowed into an expansive chest which tappered into slender hips and... Oh!
He was completely naked! An impressive, long, thick, erect shaft jutted out, so hard and...and impressive!
Wide, fearful eyes flew to his.
She gasped.
Eyes afire, all consuming, steely with no hint that compassion had ever touched their depths held hers. The eyes of a ruthless predator, one who had found his prey!
Before she had moved a muscle to obey the instinct burning in her he was upon her. Her intentions devined. A strong hand cut off the impulsive scream before she made a sound. Horrified she stared at the blood covered iron manacle on his wrist, a thick chain falling from it. She could feel the other bitting into her side where his immovable hand held her to him.
"Shhh Aage, I will not hurt you" he whispered, a low inhuman growl.
Did he expect her to believe him? And how did he know her name?
She kicked him.
With the stillness of a statue he stood. Imobile as if petrified his eyes, though scarcely blinking, the only sign he was not a wax model. Their intensity was frightening, inhuman, searing into anything foolish enough to gaze into them, thankfully it was too dark that few passed through. Upon seeing him they scurried away, chilled by a touch of something beyond what they knew, even the women who gave him an apreciative once over still hurried away.
He barely noticed, concentrating on the intoxicating scent that was the single thread to his sanity. A warm blanket upon the chaotic distruction his mind had long decayed into, the one tenuous grip shielding the many innocent from the agonising death he would bring.
She passed here frequently, her scent stronger than anywhere else -as fresh as that morning- he noted. He would wait for her to come by, too weak to chase her down but unable to concentrate on anything but her. Most likely she passed through to and from her work and would soon be by.
His blood churned, need throbing through him at the thought of burrying himself inside her, claiming her after decades of being denied her mere presence. Sweet heat soothing his anguished memories whilst he repeatedly drove into her.
A groan sounded low in his throat, more a growl, as his already hard body hardened even more. Years without any warmth or human touch enflamed his desire. With unsatisfactory images of her across a screen, a silhouette of her ambrosial body, charcoal grey eyes, luscious full lips incredibly long dark hair, creamed coffie skin he had had to suffice. Knowing his debilitating need for her his captors had gone as far as to bring a sweater of hers to his torture chamber. Soaked in her blood, the man who had brought it had casually anounced her death.
He had gone mad. Completely insane, raging and yanking against his chains uncaring as the iron cut into his flesh. For days he had raged, until he had remembered the scent of ice in the blood.
They had collected enough blood from her over time just to toment him! Pretending anguish, he had savoured her scent, wraped it around his being, letting it soothe his broken spirit. Until they had realised his ruse.
He would hurt her, regreatable but inevitable. A taste of her would bring him back to himself and that was paramount, he could not allow himself to hurt other innocents. Wildflowers under the summer sun, that was her scent, with a femininity all her own. She was near and alone. Anger rose in him at her idiocy, even without his kind the park was dangerous at night. She would never make that mistake again after he was done with her.
Fatigue cloaked her, aching her joints and back. She needed rest, a good day of doing nothing more strenuous than fixing her meals. Thank goodness tomorrow was her day off and she could do just that. She loved her new job, would not trade it for anything, but it could be very tiring. A pleasant kind of tiring though, muscles sweetly aching, her heart full with the knowledge she had done an excellent job. It had been a great idea to move, she would have to remember to thank Kev for talking her into it.
Speaking of Kev, he would not be happy with her walking the park at this time of night. No doubt he had already called half a dozen times and was now camped at her front door or coming to intercept her. It was comforting how protective he was, though he tended to be extreme at times.
Looking around at the dark tree lined part of the walkway she was on, Aage suddenly wished she had called him. He wouldn't have minded and she wouldn't have to face the danger she was certain she was in. Her instincts screamed for her to run even though she was sure it would be futile.
Unable to take another step she stopped. Carefully, as if not to court the danger, she started to backtrack, that was when he appeared from behind the tree.
She froze.
He was big! Tall. At least six five, towering over her five foot seven. Muscles rippled on every plane of his body, shoulders so broad no burden could bow them flowed into an expansive chest which tappered into slender hips and... Oh!
He was completely naked! An impressive, long, thick, erect shaft jutted out, so hard and...and impressive!
Wide, fearful eyes flew to his.
She gasped.
Eyes afire, all consuming, steely with no hint that compassion had ever touched their depths held hers. The eyes of a ruthless predator, one who had found his prey!
Before she had moved a muscle to obey the instinct burning in her he was upon her. Her intentions devined. A strong hand cut off the impulsive scream before she made a sound. Horrified she stared at the blood covered iron manacle on his wrist, a thick chain falling from it. She could feel the other bitting into her side where his immovable hand held her to him.
"Shhh Aage, I will not hurt you" he whispered, a low inhuman growl.
Did he expect her to believe him? And how did he know her name?
She kicked him.
Friday 29 April 2011
Lady Armhearst dearest desire 3
Now before she even touched British soil a gentleman of repute had asked for her.
Could she risk it?
Or leave off and deny her greatest wish?
She had been less than truthful, contrary to what the ton knew the Beaufort children were quite wealthy courtsey of their American grandfather whose only child had been their mother. The old man had disinherited her when she had married the barely managing duke of Armheast thinking him a fortune hunter. The rich mine owner thought all British society to be money grabers the reason why his granddaughters' fortunes were settled solely on them with no room for their future husbands. Caroline and her sister had been educated in bussiness and estate management. There was nothing about finance they did not know and had each managed to substantially increase their wealth. Their grandfather would control the principal until they were five and twenty but the rest they would do with as they wished. They already had more than they would spend in a lifetime but the old man's empire building had rubbed off all five of them.
Could she risk it?
Or leave off and deny her greatest wish?
She had been less than truthful, contrary to what the ton knew the Beaufort children were quite wealthy courtsey of their American grandfather whose only child had been their mother. The old man had disinherited her when she had married the barely managing duke of Armheast thinking him a fortune hunter. The rich mine owner thought all British society to be money grabers the reason why his granddaughters' fortunes were settled solely on them with no room for their future husbands. Caroline and her sister had been educated in bussiness and estate management. There was nothing about finance they did not know and had each managed to substantially increase their wealth. Their grandfather would control the principal until they were five and twenty but the rest they would do with as they wished. They already had more than they would spend in a lifetime but the old man's empire building had rubbed off all five of them.
Slaves to desire
The sacred halls were as full as ever, the cream of society prominading about assuared of their place in life, the usual mix of debutants and unmarried ladies fashionably dressed and well chaperoned
as they went about the bussiness of finding a husband. The season proper was underway.
He was not coming.
Why had she fooled herself into thinking he would? Had he not told her repeatedly of his aversion to society's entertainments? She had pesisted though thinking that he would care about her enough to come, just to please her. What a fool she had been,
as they went about the bussiness of finding a husband. The season proper was underway.
He was not coming.
Why had she fooled herself into thinking he would? Had he not told her repeatedly of his aversion to society's entertainments? She had pesisted though thinking that he would care about her enough to come, just to please her. What a fool she had been,
Saturday 16 April 2011
The goddess arising
Somewhere between chapter 1&2. . .
Assault? Had he really called it that? Her lips were so soft, velvety against the firmness of his. Instinctively he responded to her, drawing her to him, tasting luscious lips that moved provocatively beneath his, sweet nectar against his tongue as he delved into her mouth, caressing its contours.
All too soon she ended the kiss fluttering like a startled bird as she looked at him, her lips parted and wistful.
"I think he's gone now," he whispered aware of her soft firm breasts against his hard-walled chest. Her slender legs fitted perfectly to his as if she had been made for his arms and he responded to her.
"Oh!" her eyes widened, "Thank you. I mean for saving me." she explained breathily a smile lighting up her face, darkening her eyes to a golden sunset that drew him like a moth to fire.
His throat tightened, he tried to will his body away from hers, to give himself room, but those eyes touched him at a level he couldn't define. The laughter in them, the simple understanding soothing his tortued soul with silent acceptance, as if she knew all his demons and accepted him.
She pulled him in, threatening the barriers he had built around himself just with that smile, made them baseless with her touch, heat that emanated from a point to melt their restraint. Her lips belligerant against her eyes with their swollen folds parted to give him a provocative insight to the moist heat of her mouth, coral lips that could haunt a man until he lost his senses, pleasure him with their softened depths and still leave him wanting.
He longed to taste their depths again, to feel her softening against him, have her response drum into him, her hands on him stroaking...
"Zorro saves another damsel in distress," she said with a coy smile.
"A lady like you is worth saving" he replied and was relieved his voice did not betray his struggles.
"Lady?" she questioned with fluttering lashes.
She wasn't used to flirting he could tell, her eyes unsure even as she enjoyed their teasing, a true lady with an air of innocence that aroused his protective instincts, and unwelcome possessive ones. Anger
Assault? Had he really called it that? Her lips were so soft, velvety against the firmness of his. Instinctively he responded to her, drawing her to him, tasting luscious lips that moved provocatively beneath his, sweet nectar against his tongue as he delved into her mouth, caressing its contours.
All too soon she ended the kiss fluttering like a startled bird as she looked at him, her lips parted and wistful.
"I think he's gone now," he whispered aware of her soft firm breasts against his hard-walled chest. Her slender legs fitted perfectly to his as if she had been made for his arms and he responded to her.
"Oh!" her eyes widened, "Thank you. I mean for saving me." she explained breathily a smile lighting up her face, darkening her eyes to a golden sunset that drew him like a moth to fire.
His throat tightened, he tried to will his body away from hers, to give himself room, but those eyes touched him at a level he couldn't define. The laughter in them, the simple understanding soothing his tortued soul with silent acceptance, as if she knew all his demons and accepted him.
She pulled him in, threatening the barriers he had built around himself just with that smile, made them baseless with her touch, heat that emanated from a point to melt their restraint. Her lips belligerant against her eyes with their swollen folds parted to give him a provocative insight to the moist heat of her mouth, coral lips that could haunt a man until he lost his senses, pleasure him with their softened depths and still leave him wanting.
He longed to taste their depths again, to feel her softening against him, have her response drum into him, her hands on him stroaking...
"Zorro saves another damsel in distress," she said with a coy smile.
"A lady like you is worth saving" he replied and was relieved his voice did not betray his struggles.
"Lady?" she questioned with fluttering lashes.
She wasn't used to flirting he could tell, her eyes unsure even as she enjoyed their teasing, a true lady with an air of innocence that aroused his protective instincts, and unwelcome possessive ones. Anger
Friday 15 April 2011
Lady Armheast dearest desire 2
He wanted her too, there was no doubt. What she could not trust were his intentions upon her. Could this stately, elegant leader of the peers be asking her to wife? Socially she was his equal and could very well marry him if only she could trust he truly was offering her marriage. It was a sad truth she had long since faced, men of the ton were more likely to offer her the slip than anything honourable.
How wonderful it would be though if a gentleman like him would value her despite her unfortunate circumstances. That however was rather unlikely, not this early.
Taking a deep breath she supressed the troubling feelings he aroused in her and broke eye contact. He was just too handsome! She had known other handsome men, her brothers were just as well favoured, but something about lord Camden made her so concious that she was a woman.
He sat down on a side chair besides her sofa, a respectable distance should anyone chance upon them. Though their being alone was scandalous enough even without her history. It always came down to her history, she thought sadly, the reason why he could not be proposing marriage and many other things.
He leaned foward, his eyes ernest upon hers she could not look away. Her breath caught, her heart raced as they became all there was to her world. Their depths entranced her, snuffed reason and awakened deep longing at the core of her being. How could she doubt him when he looked at her like that? Touching the tender places in her soul that had long been left wanting. Moreso how could she refuse him anything? His lazy gaze slumbered with sensuality and instead of shying away from it she was drawn. If only she was indifferent to him! He was all her schoolgirl fantasies had yearned for. When he spoke, his voice washed over her raw nerves like a warm breeze. What was wrong with her?
"Lady Armheast, you must be aware how lovely you are and as a sister to a duke you are my equal. No one would fault me if we were to wed" he reasoned.
Caroline lowered her eyes "The ton would fault you for taking a wife who is known to have barely a penny to her name when there are those about with veritable fortunes"
"I am not a fortune hunter my lady" he stated his voice a bit stiff. "I do not care that you are dowerless, you are a lovely woman of good character and I find you most suitable. You are also intelligent and caring, I would be honoured to have you"
"You would be more honoured to have a wife with an untainted name" she said, eyes downcast.
He took her hand in his, "Caroline," her name was a longing breath upon his lips, she closed her eyes at the aching sweetness of it "You were not at fault, merely an innocent child who was a victim. Do not think for a moment that I could fault you for that"
She could not keep the tears back. How she had longed for someone who felt as he did, valued her still. It was one thing to dream and another to face the reality though. How could she have known she would be this scared? That she who had faced the world with a brave face and cheery heart would be afraid to take the dream reality offered? Had she buried her dream so deep she had no strength for the reality?
It was all so confusing. She had no way of knowing if it was all for a wager. How could she trust her judgement again where men were concerned? She got up to put some distance between them knowing she would not be able to refuse him if he kept on looking at her like she truly was the answer to his prayers.
" 'Tis generous of you to think so well of me, my lord, but pray do not distress me further with this. You deserve a virginal bride and I am not that"
He came up to her, took her gloved hands in his even as she was reluctant to have him do so. Tenderly he wiped her tears away, his face so gentle her tears flowed even more.
Her heart ached, a lump lodging upon her throat, her body trembled with reaction, confusion raking her mind as her blood flamed. His touch was sublime, reverent, a lover's touch, fulfilling despite its fleeting nature. As desire melted her body she turned despairing eyes to him, he should not have such a hold over her, a simple touch should not pierce her defenses like this. She had always thought them so substantial, unbreachable and yet here she was behaving like an abandoned jade.
"My lord, please" she begged.
"I deserve the lady that I want," he replied to her earlier statement. "A spirited yet gentle companion sharing in some of my intrests and capable of understanding my motivations. I believe you are that lady. I shall not distress you with my intentions again but rest assured I shall not consider any other lady. If you are still of the same mind pray let me know by the end of our voyage"
He bowed over her hand then left.
Unsettled, disbelieving she sat back down, her mind a whirling mass of confusion.
She could have had her pick of the American gentry had she not yearned for a British gentleman even as she had doubted she could have one.
How wonderful it would be though if a gentleman like him would value her despite her unfortunate circumstances. That however was rather unlikely, not this early.
Taking a deep breath she supressed the troubling feelings he aroused in her and broke eye contact. He was just too handsome! She had known other handsome men, her brothers were just as well favoured, but something about lord Camden made her so concious that she was a woman.
He sat down on a side chair besides her sofa, a respectable distance should anyone chance upon them. Though their being alone was scandalous enough even without her history. It always came down to her history, she thought sadly, the reason why he could not be proposing marriage and many other things.
He leaned foward, his eyes ernest upon hers she could not look away. Her breath caught, her heart raced as they became all there was to her world. Their depths entranced her, snuffed reason and awakened deep longing at the core of her being. How could she doubt him when he looked at her like that? Touching the tender places in her soul that had long been left wanting. Moreso how could she refuse him anything? His lazy gaze slumbered with sensuality and instead of shying away from it she was drawn. If only she was indifferent to him! He was all her schoolgirl fantasies had yearned for. When he spoke, his voice washed over her raw nerves like a warm breeze. What was wrong with her?
"Lady Armheast, you must be aware how lovely you are and as a sister to a duke you are my equal. No one would fault me if we were to wed" he reasoned.
Caroline lowered her eyes "The ton would fault you for taking a wife who is known to have barely a penny to her name when there are those about with veritable fortunes"
"I am not a fortune hunter my lady" he stated his voice a bit stiff. "I do not care that you are dowerless, you are a lovely woman of good character and I find you most suitable. You are also intelligent and caring, I would be honoured to have you"
"You would be more honoured to have a wife with an untainted name" she said, eyes downcast.
He took her hand in his, "Caroline," her name was a longing breath upon his lips, she closed her eyes at the aching sweetness of it "You were not at fault, merely an innocent child who was a victim. Do not think for a moment that I could fault you for that"
She could not keep the tears back. How she had longed for someone who felt as he did, valued her still. It was one thing to dream and another to face the reality though. How could she have known she would be this scared? That she who had faced the world with a brave face and cheery heart would be afraid to take the dream reality offered? Had she buried her dream so deep she had no strength for the reality?
It was all so confusing. She had no way of knowing if it was all for a wager. How could she trust her judgement again where men were concerned? She got up to put some distance between them knowing she would not be able to refuse him if he kept on looking at her like she truly was the answer to his prayers.
" 'Tis generous of you to think so well of me, my lord, but pray do not distress me further with this. You deserve a virginal bride and I am not that"
He came up to her, took her gloved hands in his even as she was reluctant to have him do so. Tenderly he wiped her tears away, his face so gentle her tears flowed even more.
Her heart ached, a lump lodging upon her throat, her body trembled with reaction, confusion raking her mind as her blood flamed. His touch was sublime, reverent, a lover's touch, fulfilling despite its fleeting nature. As desire melted her body she turned despairing eyes to him, he should not have such a hold over her, a simple touch should not pierce her defenses like this. She had always thought them so substantial, unbreachable and yet here she was behaving like an abandoned jade.
"My lord, please" she begged.
"I deserve the lady that I want," he replied to her earlier statement. "A spirited yet gentle companion sharing in some of my intrests and capable of understanding my motivations. I believe you are that lady. I shall not distress you with my intentions again but rest assured I shall not consider any other lady. If you are still of the same mind pray let me know by the end of our voyage"
He bowed over her hand then left.
Unsettled, disbelieving she sat back down, her mind a whirling mass of confusion.
She could have had her pick of the American gentry had she not yearned for a British gentleman even as she had doubted she could have one.
Thursday 14 April 2011
Lady Armheast's dearest desire
CHAPTER 1
" 'Tis cruel of you to jest with me so my lord." she finally replied in a voice full of tears, painfully she continued. "All of society knows that I am disgraced and no gentlement of noble birth would take me to wife. For you to. . . to come and. . ." she waved her hand to indicate all he had said unable to say more as tears ran down her cheeks. Something she found embarassing to have him see as she was not given to tears.
Abruptly she got up and rushed to the door. She could not bear to stay a minute longer knowing she was no more than a jest to him. No doubt it was all a wager and his friends even now awaited to hear the tale. That this was close to her heart hurt more than she could ever have imagined. Oh how cruel men could be! Somehow she had forgotten that well learned lesson though she had thought it was an everyday reality.
"Lady Armheast, pray do not leave."
Something in his voice made her pause upon the door, a note of desparation that was tempered by pride. As if he was under a lot of strain, unwilling to go forth but having no choice. She turned to him warily, her hand on the knob.
"I have stated my case very badly and I do apologise for distressing you, I am unlikely to do it any better so I apologise again. I am in need of a wife, one from the guests of my cousin's wedding and I have chosen to ask you." he stated.
Caroline frowned, unable to credit what he was saying. Anger rolled inside of her, boiling, threatening the composure she had worked so hard to gain. He dared to continue in this distressing, humiliating jest of his even to the point of stopping her when she chose to leave! What a rogue he was and in the most cruel way possible. She raised her head with pride, unwilling to give him the pleasure of seeing her lose control. "I am not a guest to the wedding." she stated in a flat voice.
"My lady, you have been included in everything to do with the wedding, that makes you a guest."
She could not deny that, though were it not for the kindhearted bride she and her party would not have been included. Whilst society matrons- the few present- had not given her the cut they had not sought her acquitance nor that of her sister. They did not know how to deal with her, did not want their innocent daughters around her yet they had symphathy for her. She hated being the object of symphathy but knew she had to withstand it if she was to make her place in society. Determined that their foray into the london ton would be a success especially for her innocent sister, as yet it had been difficult, she had endervoured to hold her head high and be all her station in life entrailed. They were made of sterner stuff and being included in the Raighley wedding, however reluctantly, was a start.
Defiant, she looked straight at him "Am I to believe you would chose me over lady Granville who is. . ."
"A schemer determined to marry my tittle." he finished for her.
Caroline blinked in astonished, "Lady Selbourne. . ." she left it as a question.
"Another social climber."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Miss Beachwood?"
"Irritates me with her simpering and vapours."
A smile threatened upon her features but she supressed it. "Miss Perronet?" she asked
"Brainless." he replied hardly.
Caroline couldn't help laughing, though considered an incomperable Miss Perronet was rather silly to put it kindly.
One by one she named the rest of the single ladies in attendance and he gave her a short, precise and rather humourous discription of them and they laughed together.
He did have an endearing smile, soft, sensual and very captivating. His deep smooth laugh had her stomach clenching for some reason and her breath caught making her feel lightheaded.
Lowering her eyes she turned to walk to the sofa unable to continue looking into those deep eyes, so sincere when she could not bring herself to believe him. The confusing effect he was having on her made it wise to move away from him. With more of a fuss than was necessary she arranged her skirts about her.
He turned to her and she felt the heat of his eyes taking in her fine parisian gown, her unruly strawberry hair even the cleavage the low neckline exposed. It was decent enough, all fashionable ladies were wearing them some even lower but few ladies had a bussom quite as full as hers. She was used to men staring at her, having those kind of looks, but this lord's eyes were a caress, slow and soft. She looked up to find him lazily roving down her body with eyes that had darkened to appear coal black, glowing with appreaciation they traced the same path back up taking in every inch of her tall frame. The world suddenly felt off kilter and she was glad she was seated. Her breasts grew heavy startling her with their aching. She had never been aroused! Not even the slightest bit. Men did not attract her, not in this body tightening heart clenching heated way. How could she be feeling like this, wanting him when she knew it would be her downfall?
" 'Tis cruel of you to jest with me so my lord." she finally replied in a voice full of tears, painfully she continued. "All of society knows that I am disgraced and no gentlement of noble birth would take me to wife. For you to. . . to come and. . ." she waved her hand to indicate all he had said unable to say more as tears ran down her cheeks. Something she found embarassing to have him see as she was not given to tears.
Abruptly she got up and rushed to the door. She could not bear to stay a minute longer knowing she was no more than a jest to him. No doubt it was all a wager and his friends even now awaited to hear the tale. That this was close to her heart hurt more than she could ever have imagined. Oh how cruel men could be! Somehow she had forgotten that well learned lesson though she had thought it was an everyday reality.
"Lady Armheast, pray do not leave."
Something in his voice made her pause upon the door, a note of desparation that was tempered by pride. As if he was under a lot of strain, unwilling to go forth but having no choice. She turned to him warily, her hand on the knob.
"I have stated my case very badly and I do apologise for distressing you, I am unlikely to do it any better so I apologise again. I am in need of a wife, one from the guests of my cousin's wedding and I have chosen to ask you." he stated.
Caroline frowned, unable to credit what he was saying. Anger rolled inside of her, boiling, threatening the composure she had worked so hard to gain. He dared to continue in this distressing, humiliating jest of his even to the point of stopping her when she chose to leave! What a rogue he was and in the most cruel way possible. She raised her head with pride, unwilling to give him the pleasure of seeing her lose control. "I am not a guest to the wedding." she stated in a flat voice.
"My lady, you have been included in everything to do with the wedding, that makes you a guest."
She could not deny that, though were it not for the kindhearted bride she and her party would not have been included. Whilst society matrons- the few present- had not given her the cut they had not sought her acquitance nor that of her sister. They did not know how to deal with her, did not want their innocent daughters around her yet they had symphathy for her. She hated being the object of symphathy but knew she had to withstand it if she was to make her place in society. Determined that their foray into the london ton would be a success especially for her innocent sister, as yet it had been difficult, she had endervoured to hold her head high and be all her station in life entrailed. They were made of sterner stuff and being included in the Raighley wedding, however reluctantly, was a start.
Defiant, she looked straight at him "Am I to believe you would chose me over lady Granville who is. . ."
"A schemer determined to marry my tittle." he finished for her.
Caroline blinked in astonished, "Lady Selbourne. . ." she left it as a question.
"Another social climber."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Miss Beachwood?"
"Irritates me with her simpering and vapours."
A smile threatened upon her features but she supressed it. "Miss Perronet?" she asked
"Brainless." he replied hardly.
Caroline couldn't help laughing, though considered an incomperable Miss Perronet was rather silly to put it kindly.
One by one she named the rest of the single ladies in attendance and he gave her a short, precise and rather humourous discription of them and they laughed together.
He did have an endearing smile, soft, sensual and very captivating. His deep smooth laugh had her stomach clenching for some reason and her breath caught making her feel lightheaded.
Lowering her eyes she turned to walk to the sofa unable to continue looking into those deep eyes, so sincere when she could not bring herself to believe him. The confusing effect he was having on her made it wise to move away from him. With more of a fuss than was necessary she arranged her skirts about her.
He turned to her and she felt the heat of his eyes taking in her fine parisian gown, her unruly strawberry hair even the cleavage the low neckline exposed. It was decent enough, all fashionable ladies were wearing them some even lower but few ladies had a bussom quite as full as hers. She was used to men staring at her, having those kind of looks, but this lord's eyes were a caress, slow and soft. She looked up to find him lazily roving down her body with eyes that had darkened to appear coal black, glowing with appreaciation they traced the same path back up taking in every inch of her tall frame. The world suddenly felt off kilter and she was glad she was seated. Her breasts grew heavy startling her with their aching. She had never been aroused! Not even the slightest bit. Men did not attract her, not in this body tightening heart clenching heated way. How could she be feeling like this, wanting him when she knew it would be her downfall?
Thursday 31 March 2011
The swordkin
In the days of swordkin
When mastery of it abounds
The rule of chaos therein lie
'Til a sword in twain cloven
Becomes twice as powerful
Hence its power is quadripled
That no other can withstand
The power its mate shall wield.
The words of the small verse rang in the ears of the young listeners as if they were coming from somewhere deep inside to be percieved by their ears. It was a prophecy from the elder time, a time that had only ever known peace and had failed to credit the verse dispite the fact that even then it had rung true in the soul of all who had read or heard it. Prophecy always found its truth in the deepest recesses of the hearer and this had struck sharper than any double edged ynxthian sword ever could and still did. Yet the elder people had reviled the seer as much as they had his prophecy, torments as only those who prophessed peace could think of had been his. Inhuman, unbearable even as it had never been mortal -as life was all important- he had endured refusing to refute his truth.
When mastery of it abounds
The rule of chaos therein lie
'Til a sword in twain cloven
Becomes twice as powerful
Hence its power is quadripled
That no other can withstand
The power its mate shall wield.
The words of the small verse rang in the ears of the young listeners as if they were coming from somewhere deep inside to be percieved by their ears. It was a prophecy from the elder time, a time that had only ever known peace and had failed to credit the verse dispite the fact that even then it had rung true in the soul of all who had read or heard it. Prophecy always found its truth in the deepest recesses of the hearer and this had struck sharper than any double edged ynxthian sword ever could and still did. Yet the elder people had reviled the seer as much as they had his prophecy, torments as only those who prophessed peace could think of had been his. Inhuman, unbearable even as it had never been mortal -as life was all important- he had endured refusing to refute his truth.
Thursday 24 February 2011
A new day
Day after day its all the same.
Waiting for something that is never to come
Having no hope but looking forward
To the day oblivion will come
Upon dark raven wings
To call you to the great beyond
Where nothing resides.
Each morning the cycle begins again
Just like the previous day
The great chore continues in monotony
Taking slowly from our tired limbs
Until we move as those entranced
By a horror beyond imagination
Left only to move the robotic motions.
Sadness resides inside us
Because that which is praised as worthy
Is an appealing fruit full of worms
The only sustainance available to us
Sanctioning hopeless living
A dragging weight against movement
Waiting for something that is never to come
Having no hope but looking forward
To the day oblivion will come
Upon dark raven wings
To call you to the great beyond
Where nothing resides.
Each morning the cycle begins again
Just like the previous day
The great chore continues in monotony
Taking slowly from our tired limbs
Until we move as those entranced
By a horror beyond imagination
Left only to move the robotic motions.
Sadness resides inside us
Because that which is praised as worthy
Is an appealing fruit full of worms
The only sustainance available to us
Sanctioning hopeless living
A dragging weight against movement
Lady Cinderella
Somewhere in chapter 4
She was now wed. Her husband like none she nor her aunt could have imagined. Time would tell which of them had found her desire, she who had only ever wanted someone to value her or her aunt who had wanted a miserable match for her.
He was still not recoved from his wounds, the bruises on his face yellowing as the swelling receeded, making it difficult to tell his features. She thought his nose was fine, aristocratic, surely he had to be one. He need not be titled or even monied just not the outlaw bandit her aunt had declared, a bandit would not have married her to save her from ruin. Not when it was her fault she had been compromised.
He had not been angry at her nor had he argued with her aunt's demand that they marry, he could have easily refused with no fault asigned to him yet he had married her. To her eyes and in her heart he was noble, regardless of what his past and memories would reveal.
For the moment she had to deal with their accomodation. They could not stay here.
The roofs had fallen in years ago, the beems rotten and broken. Birds had made their homes on the second floor, rats and other scurrying creatures on the first. The curtains were tattered, dusty, moth eaten and stinking. It was obvious no one had been here in years, probably since her parents had died. How could she have trusted her aunt would see to its care?
The pain greeted him as it had everytime he had awakened. His face was on fire, the split bottom lip throbed and his ribs ached, it was hard to believe they were merely bruised and not broken the way they felt. Every breath agrivated the pain and his present situation did not help matters.
She was now wed. Her husband like none she nor her aunt could have imagined. Time would tell which of them had found her desire, she who had only ever wanted someone to value her or her aunt who had wanted a miserable match for her.
He was still not recoved from his wounds, the bruises on his face yellowing as the swelling receeded, making it difficult to tell his features. She thought his nose was fine, aristocratic, surely he had to be one. He need not be titled or even monied just not the outlaw bandit her aunt had declared, a bandit would not have married her to save her from ruin. Not when it was her fault she had been compromised.
He had not been angry at her nor had he argued with her aunt's demand that they marry, he could have easily refused with no fault asigned to him yet he had married her. To her eyes and in her heart he was noble, regardless of what his past and memories would reveal.
For the moment she had to deal with their accomodation. They could not stay here.
The roofs had fallen in years ago, the beems rotten and broken. Birds had made their homes on the second floor, rats and other scurrying creatures on the first. The curtains were tattered, dusty, moth eaten and stinking. It was obvious no one had been here in years, probably since her parents had died. How could she have trusted her aunt would see to its care?
The pain greeted him as it had everytime he had awakened. His face was on fire, the split bottom lip throbed and his ribs ached, it was hard to believe they were merely bruised and not broken the way they felt. Every breath agrivated the pain and his present situation did not help matters.
Friday 18 February 2011
Through the forest
Leaves formed a reddish-gold carpet on the ground and on the impressive porch at the front of the palace. It was four storied with many balconies styled to be individual in pattern and somehow managing to be a whole, wide windowed doors led from them. Large windows adorned the rest of the bulding to afford a view of the forest from any of its rooms. The result was a dazzling glint in the sun, vines clinging to its sparce walls gave the daunting place a homey, almost rustic look.
Ferik noted the unnatural stillness that now prevailed, not a single leaf rustled in the light breeze he could feel, a breathless pause as they waited to see what he would do. The courtyard about him was beautiful, despite the neglect, arrayed with once shaped fragrant shrubs and colourful, well-arranged flowers splashed amoungst them. The only sore note was found just inside the north gate, two oaks that did not look as if they were. If Ferik had not been adept at recognising trees he would have been at a loss to identify them, they were twisted, as if a deformed childish hand had shaped them and hence deformed them. Stunted, the bulk of them were bulbourous contusions with a leprous looking bark, the branches cruelly twisted and gnarled. They appeared to be the centre of the agonising pain that underlay the forest, rap flowing from them as if from sores.
Ferik noted the unnatural stillness that now prevailed, not a single leaf rustled in the light breeze he could feel, a breathless pause as they waited to see what he would do. The courtyard about him was beautiful, despite the neglect, arrayed with once shaped fragrant shrubs and colourful, well-arranged flowers splashed amoungst them. The only sore note was found just inside the north gate, two oaks that did not look as if they were. If Ferik had not been adept at recognising trees he would have been at a loss to identify them, they were twisted, as if a deformed childish hand had shaped them and hence deformed them. Stunted, the bulk of them were bulbourous contusions with a leprous looking bark, the branches cruelly twisted and gnarled. They appeared to be the centre of the agonising pain that underlay the forest, rap flowing from them as if from sores.
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