Today I’m going to share a snippet from TWO new projects I’m working on. The first one is from the third book in the Vigilati series. The second one is from my top-secret spin-off project!Disclaimer: These lines are from an unedited, unrevised manuscript and may not appear in their entirety in the final product.
Here we go! Y’all ready?
Matthieu was in Hell. Not hell as in a bad situation. Like real, honest to God, Dante’s-fucking-Inferno, Hell. He recognized it, had been living with it in his head since he was seven. But this was different. The roles were reversed, and now he was living in it. Wherever it was.
It was dark. It was sweltering. There was no sense of time to be had. He could have been there for minutes or years for all he knew. That might have been the most terrifying part. He couldn’t see anything, anyone, but he could sense them. Skittering around, bouncing off the walls, the ceiling. They circled him, ever closer, until he could feel their claws dragging over his skin. Until he could smell their putrid breath on his face.
But they never touched him beyond that, never hurt him. He’d wondered for half a second if he was dreaming, but even in his fugue state he knew that if it had been a dream, she would have been right there with him, guiding him out of it.
He hissed out a breath as the demon’s face floated into his field of vision. Matthieu couldn’t be sure if the demon was actually there, or if the image was just in his head. But either way, it wasn’t good. Maybe he’d finally succumbed to the pull of evil. He just hoped those around him remained safe.
Hope you enjoyed that one. Here’s the next. You’ll notice Micah the bartender/owner from Blood in the Valley in there. I’m going to put it behind a cut for language:
[spoiler title=”Mature Audiences”]The man had colorful tattoos covering both arms, two bars through his right eyebrow, and two horseshoe barbells in each ear…probably ten gauges. His honey-brown hair just long enough to be tamed in the ponytail he had it in, and he wore a straw cowboy hat low over his eyes.
Micah also noticed that the frayed hems of his worn jeans draped over well-used cowboy boots. Well, damn. Micah did not mess with the cowboy types. There were almost always straight, and more than likely to feed you your own dick if you try to find out. Micah didn’t do straight guys, closeted guys, or basically any guy that wasn’t completely upfront and comfortable with liking men.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t look, though. Despite his warnings to himself, Micah found himself studying Cowboy. He didn’t really give off a homophobic asshole vibe. He had kind eyes, with laugh lines at the corners. His expression was weary, and it made Micah want to hop behind the bar, shove Wendy out of the way, and give him the ol’ “What’s troublin’ ya, buddy?”
But self-preservation won out, and Micah stayed hidden under the table while muscle-bound-tatted-cowboy-daddy moseyed over to the bar, most likely to eye-fuck Wendy the bartender.
With a sigh, Micah went back to banging on the table leg with the screwdriver, and tried to put the gorgeous stranger out of his mind[/spoiler]
Hope you enjoyed! See ya next Wednesday!