Sorry I’ve been M.I.A. for awhile. We had a death in the family and I’ve been a little lax in keeping up with this new blog. But I’m back! I promise to be more present from now on.
On the plus side, I have gotten some writing in. I challenged myself to get in a daily session every day in January, and I did pretty well, if I do say so myself. I got in writing on 26 days, and ended with 35k words in by the end of the month! Usually when i get in consistant sessions, I don’t average so high. Now my first story of 2018 (now one of two), is sitting pretty at 51k, all handwritten, and 63 pages.
I’m still not sold on the original title I’d picked out, and it looks like this first story in what I envision to be at least a trilogy, if not a longer series, is going to end up at least two books focused on the main characters i’m currently working with. Rory and Walker have a lot to say, and to do.
Rory and Walker are my first try at werewolves. I’ve been kicking this story around for awhile, and when I sat down and tried to flesh out the details of their story, they were very insistant that they get some pagetime, so they got to be my January project. Now I’ve got some plotting to do in order to work out what happens before the break between book 1 and book 2 of their story.
Meanwhile, I’m also plotting out a demon-hunter story. Arden and Kyler wanted some pagetime, too. I blame the wonderful Karen Lynch entirely. Again, this is an idea that I’ve been kicking around and plotting out for awhile, but they got much more fleshed out and demanding this past week. Since Karen released the latest installment of her Relentless series, which I adore and look forward to more from. I’ll probably always look forward to this series, even when it reaches it’s conclusion, though I sincerely hope that Fated isn’t said conclusion. But, if it is, I’ve got to say that I found it a wonderful read and certainly very inspiring. I had an idea regarding a creature she introduced, and viola: the plot bunnies were abound. Arden and Kyler definitely thank Karen and Fated for their promotion to primary focus.
For those of you who have already checked me out and enjoyed the snippet of Terra’s story in December, I promise there’s still more coming to Terra’s story. It’s just a bigger undertaking than I’ve previously attempted. There’s a lot more moving parts in a sci-fi universe than I realized initially. And while the moving parts come easily enough to me in contemporary and paranormal romance stories, it’s been a bit more of a struggle with the sci-fi elements. So, at the moment, Terra’s on hold, but i’ll be coming back to her and Dar’Rion soon enough.
And, for those of you that are still with me, here’s a snippet of Rory’s story:
We step outside–Archer blinking at the sunlight almost the second he clears the door–just as Wes parks the car. Dad steps out with a black scowl already in place. I open my mouth, ready to ask what’s wrong, but he holds up a hand, clearly in no mood to listen.
“Walker, I acquired a passenger. If you’d take her inside and put her up in one of the guest rooms, please?”
Though he phrases it as a question and even tacks on a ‘please’ at the end, I know it’s a command from his tone alone. Which isn’t to say that I don’t feel the usual pull to obey my Alpha, because I do. It’s a sharper yank than the usual tug, so I also know he’s beyond pissed off.
“A passenger? Who?”
“Roran’s youngest. She’s joining Greyback.”
I jolt as if he’s slapped me. Roran Silva may be many things, but possessive is definitely one of his more major personality traits. He’d never let one of his children defect from his pack.
“He let one of his children come with you?”
Dad snorts out a laugh utterly devoid of humor.
“Absolutely not. But he almost broke her arm when I tried to speak to her, so I laid claim to her. Aurora is Greyback now, and it can’t be very good for her to be sleeping in the car.”
Sleeping in the…
“She’s asleep? It’s barely a twenty minute drive.”
“More like passed out. Your brother had to patch her up before we left. Her arm was fractured and both the bones in her lower leg were broken and setting incorrectly.”
So Silver Ridge is still playing the ‘females can’t be equals’ game, huh? I shouldn’t be surprised that Roran Silva, asshole supreme, runs his pack that way. But, usually, men like that still prize their offspring. They see their children as extensions of themselves.
“Her brothers roughed up, too?”
Because I know all the Alphas on the continent, and their offspring, by name. Part and parcel of my duties as the spare heir of Greyback, to keep track of the current dynasties. Roran Silva has two sons and a daughter. Jordan, Maddox, and Aurora.
“No. Just her. Which is why she couldn’t stay there.”
“Right. I’ll get her settled.”
My Father inclines his head, which is liable to be as much thanks as I’ll get, considering his sour mood. Wes hops down from the driver’s seat and offers me a nod as i head to the back to retrieve our newest pack member. Asks,
“You gettin’ Rory?”
“Cool. I’ll get her bag. Where you gonna put her?”
“Upstairs. She can have the room across from mine.”
For now. That way I can keep an eye on her until she’s settled in. Once she is, she can pick a different room if she wants. It’s not like there aren’t plenty to spare. Half the county has plantation-style homes, even if the land got parsed off decades ago. My great-great-grandfather, the last Grayson Alpha before my Father, bought three homes in addition to his own, as well as the land between them.
As Wes retrieves a weathered duffel bag from the trunk, I open the back and duck inside. The girl huddled on the seat doesn’t look very comfortable, curled into herself as she is. Between her hands and the wild tumble of her long hair, I can’t get a good look at her face. Just a half-glimpse of her profile. And the shape of her mouth seems familiar. Looking her over again, I frown.
“She’s awful small. Isn’t she almost mature?”
If I remember correctly, Aurora Silva is at least eighteen.
“Mhmmm. Nearly nineteen. Best not to comment on her size again. Seems to be a bit of a sore spot for her.”
Is that so. From what I’ve heard in the last few minutes about the reasons my Father felt compelled to liberate the little miss from Silver Ridge, and the way she’s been treated by her Father–specifically, singled out–I’d buy that being small is a sore spot. And probably more than a bit of one. It doesn’t matter that size varies, the majority of werewolves tend to be large. Most wolves expect the size, of themselves and of others of our kind. No doubt Roran Silva would consider his daughter’s size to be a failing on her part, and consider her the runt of his litter.
Contorting to reach her, I scoop up Aurora, ending up with one arm banding her waist and the other under her knees as she burrows into my hold with an unintelligible murmur. Small fists clutch at my shirt, and the movement has the collar of her oversized shirt slipping to bare a slim shoulder. Studiously trying not to stare at the expanse of creamy flesh that’s revealed, or the exposed column of her neck, I hold on and manuver backwards with care. There’s plenty of she-wolves who would give me all the time of day I asked for. I’ve no need to ogle an unconscious one who proably doesn’t want to be here. It’s not like she was given a choice.
But, as I ease us out of the car, I have to hunch over her. Which means I pretty much have to tuck her shoulder under my chin. Once we’re out, and I pull back, I have an up-close and personal look at that shoulder. Which bares a dark, mottled handprint in that awkward stage of healing where it’s an ugly kaleidoscope of greens and yellows.
In that instant, I understand exactly what caught my Father’s attention in the first place. For a bruise like that, there’s zero chance that was an accident. And, sure, Dad did say she’s been roughed up. But I didn’t think I’d have to see it, firsthand. Becker’s usually more thorough than to leave big, nasty bruises on his patients.
The deferential tone, which Wes rarely breaks out for me, snaps me out of staring. It also brings my attention around to the fact that I’m giving off a low-grade growl, the sound rumbling around dangerously in the back of my throat.
Apparently, little Aurora SIlva has the ability to get every male with the Grayson name up in arms about her safety. Probably because she’s small enough to seem much younger than she is, and because in our pack, we don’t hold with hurting those weaker than ourselves. If one of our females wears bruises like this, she’s been fighting challenges, or she’s gone feral and needed to be subdued.
“Are you alright?”
I don’t really have an answer to that. Because I’m equally tempted not to ever put this little she-wolf down, and to head to Silver Ridge in order to break at least three of Roran Silva’s bones. Plus each and every bone in his dominant hand. But that would be just as bad as the raid last week was on us. As in: painful, wrong, and incuring blood prices of my own.
She’ll be safe here, and that’s all that really matters right now.
And that’s the scene where Walker first meets Rory.
Stayed tuned for more about Rory and Terra, and there’ll be some of Arden’s story for your reading pleasure very soon.
Until next time,