Monday, April 23, 2012

Sam's Sunday Snippet

Guardian - Sexy Mythological Adventure
Sexy, Fun, Mythological Adventure!

5 Star Reader Review on Amazon:  "If you like Ms. Cheever's Dancin' With the Devil series, you'll love this one. A unique mix of mythology, fantasy, and paranormal elements, the book offers a fun, fast paced story that kept me turning pages to the very end. Good stuff."

The shadows jigged and swayed, dancing to the tune played by a swinging lamp overhead. I squeezed my eyes hard against the distraction of the wavering light and yawned widely. I was exhausted.

I’d searched for the leader of the human hostiles over half the Earth and even across time. I finally thought I’d run him down. But I wasn’t sure. This time would be too young for the current problem. The human too old in the time I left. 

Unless, as I was beginning to suspect, he knew how to breach the layers of time. 

The tavern across the way had dusty windows that rolled the light in funny ways. But inside the atmosphere was raucous and the inhabitants rowdy. 

Spirits of the liquid kind apparently dominated. 

I’d been standing in the shadows for hours, my feet screaming in my soft boots and my lower back threatening to take me to my knees on the hard, filthy ground. My spies told me the leader had gone into that tavern. But, unless he was a woman, walked with a severe limp, or was ninety years old, he hadn’t come out yet. 

In my exhausted mind, the human had become spirit-like. Though I’d followed him for weeks, I’d not been able to cast eyes on him once. He’d always stayed just that far outside my reach. I sighed and leaned against the damp wall at my back. I was starting to think he was a figment of everyone’s imagination.

I was seriously considering entering a wrinkle and going into the tavern after him when the door opened again and a man and a woman emerged from it.

The woman was small. Tiny really. She wore a long, light colored dress that skimmed her arms just below soft, white shoulders and dipped low into her cleavage…what there was of it. The man was tall and dark, with a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face. 

His rough looking shirt stretched tautly around his massive forearms as he reached to tuck one of the woman’s curls behind a pearly ear. Giggling sounds emerged from beneath a truly ridiculous hat, which featured tall feathers of some sort and a bunch of fruit shaped items on one side. 

He leaned down and pulled the woman’s glove encased hand to his lips. “Are you sure you aren’t cold? The night is damp.”

The woman shivered theatrically and I rolled my eyes. 

Then she spoke, and the voice emerging from beneath the stupid hat brought my hand to my weapon. “I trust you can keep me warm. I have a yearning to stretch my legs and clear my lungs of dust. ‘Twas a long and tiring journey this eve.”

Etta. Damn her to Hell. She’d gone in without talking to me first. I was gonna filet her wings and eat them for my evening meal.  

Despite my resolve, a sound of murderous rage flew from my throat and the man’s head came up, the face unreadable in the shadow thrown by his hat. But I swore I could see his eyes shining from beneath the hat, the glint of lamplight flickering angrily there. 

“Who is it? Show yourself.” He reached for something behind his back.

I sighed, and stepped from the shadows. “Ian Lavelle?” I kept the shadows around me so that he wouldn’t notice my strange clothing. I hadn’t taken the time, as apparently Etta had, to clothe myself in period dress. 
He cocked his head and the hand came out from behind his back. It held a long, deadly looking knife. I relaxed. A knife wouldn’t kill me. It would hurt like hell. But it wouldn’t kill me. “Who asks?”

Etta had turned to me and was making go away faces with a non-verbal emphasis that was very entertaining. I studiously ignored her.

“I am Nuria. I need to speak with you.”

Finally Etta gave up on non-verbal communication and scoured me with her shrill tones instead. “The gentleman and I are busy, strumpet. Go away and let us be.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the “gentleman.” He stood tall and looked wary, but he held the knife comfortably against his thigh and watched me, seemingly relaxed. “What would we have to discuss? I don’t know you.” He took a step toward me, ignoring Etta’s tiny hand on his forearm, and pulled the hat from his head. “Or do I? There is something very familiar about you.”

I shrugged, trying for nonchalant as my body tightened against a wave of pure lust. He was beautiful. His face was golden brown, with a square jaw and almond shaped, dark brown eyes. His nose was long and narrow, with a slight bend in the middle that might have come from having been broken at some time. His mouth was twisted in a wry smile at the moment, but was wide, with full, sexy lips that begged to be nibbled. He strode toward me on legs that were long and densely muscled. His massive thighs strained tight, well worn pants, which he wore tucked into high, black boots. The boots were dusty and well-worn. As if he’d traveled far.

He stopped in front of me and reached out, taking a strand of my waist-length, white gold hair between his fingers. “You don’t exactly look like you belong here.” He said the words without surprise, confirming for me that he was a transplant into the eighteen hundreds himself. His eyes slid down my body, taking in my soft, black sweater and skintight black leather pants. Where his eyes touched, my body hummed and warmed so that, by the time he’d assessed the soft leather of my boots, I felt as if it might be prudent to just pull him into the shadows with me and find out if he was as yummy beneath the rough clothing as he appeared from the outside.

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