Tuesday Tales – Hill – Natural Selection

by Sarah | Jan 19, 2014 | Books, Tuesday Tales, Writing

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Satin.

It’s time for Leilyn to have a turn. She’s in a strange place…that doesn’t feel all that strange. Let’s see what she thinks about Dell, and what about that curly blond klutz, Byron?:

Leilyn buttoned the last button on the blouse, smoothing the plain brown calico along her stomach. The matching simple skirt settled more on her hips than her waist, but it would do considering she had no other clothes or means to get them.

Dell had left her alone to get dressed, out of propriety more than need. Were’s didn’t know the meaning of the word shy, and the man seeped Were out of his pores. Every inch of her body wanted to cave in to his alpha power, even as her mind screamed her toward caution.

Even now, she could sense his presence right outside the back door. The strength of his magic drew her stronger than the tides had dragged and pushed her down the river.

There was no delaying the inevitable. She had to face him, as well as the pack’s alpha. They would want her story, but if experience taught her anything, she could escape the alpha draw. After all, she’d walked away from her own uncle and his alpha orders to remain and mate with her own cousin.

Instinct told her to run, and so she had.

Now she was trapped in another pack’s lands. The most confusing part was that instinct wasn’t telling her to run. She wanted to stay. The further she had gotten from home, the less she felt the urge to return.

As confusing as that was, she had to face her current situation and deal with the rest as it emerged.

Without further ado, she threw open the back door to find herself face to face with Dell. Instinct made her bow her head, and her acquiescence to the action turned her stomach.

“You should probably remain inside, Leilyn. My father will be along soon enough. We can wait inside.”

“No. I’ve never liked being trapped inside.” She stepped under the cover of the lean-to. “I’m back to full health, the cold doesn’t bother me.”

“You were down for three days,” He objected. When she glared at him, he shrugged and leaned against the house. “Ready to tell me where you’re from now?”

“Where am I now?” She stared across the open field behind the house. A light layer of snow covered the ground, but children ran willy-nilly. The Were’s were easy to pick out by their bare feet.

“Indiana.” He glanced her direction. “East or West?”

“East,” she allowed. On the edge of the field, just before the woods started sat the small rise of a hill.

Just before she turned away, a tall lanky blond man came over the rise. He carried two large buckets on a yoke over his shoulders. When he reached level ground, a group of children tore past.

Beside her, Dell chuckled. She didn’t understand why at first, when the man took one step. The next step wavered, and then man stumbled forward three steps. He tilted almost completely sideways. The bucket landed flat on the ground before he righted himself, only to fall flat the other way.

Leilyn covered her mouth in a failed attempt to cover her laughter, but it spilled from its seams. Her giggled floated out to mix with his laughter.

“That’s Byron.”

“Cute.”

A low growl hit her ears and Dell tensed beside her. Her insides twisted at the sense of jealousy she got from the growl. He snarled. “Clumsy.”

She smirked. While she wasn’t attracted to the man with crazy curls and an unsteady gait, it was fun to make this powerful man beside her sweat. “Clumsy is cute.”

*~*

Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!

Tuesday Tales – Satin – Natural Selection

by Sarah | Jan 12, 2014 | Books, Tuesday Tales, Writing

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Satin.

Last week I introduced you to my historical paranormal (with Werewolves!), Natural Selection. Honestly, I am in the midst of trying to write 100k in less than a month to have my historical western series next two books ready to submit by my anniversary of publication…so I was just going to give you that, but I realized I can’t share anything from that book without ruining many surprises I have in store in Dominion Falls.

So, this week we’re back with Dell, my Werewolf in 1882.  The stranger he found on the bank is a Werewolf as well, he’s all but convinced of that fact…but even with her increased strength and healing, her time in the cold waters of the river left her down for the count. will she wake up, and what’s her name? Where is she from?:

Dell sat silent on the bed, his feet propped on the frame, his arms balanced on his knees. In the bed against the opposite wall lay the strange woman he’d found at the edge of the river. They still didn’t know where she’d come from or how long she’d been in the water, but it was long enough to take down a Were and make her ill for three days.

On the other side of the cabin, Olive worked over the stove, making a huge breakfast for him, and probably some extra on the off chance the woman woke up. True to his word, Dell hadn’t left Olive’s cabin since they’d brought her there. Pure instinct insisted he be there when she woke.

“Dell, come.” Olive snapped and pointed to his plate. “Sit. Eat.”

If Olive hadn’t been like a second mother to him all his life he might have snapped at her for treating him like a pet. As it was, he only grumbled under his breath and went to the table.

“You don’t ever do good trapped inside, boy. You should go out and run. She ain’t woken up yet.” Olive dropped more eggs on his plate as he shoveled them into his mouth. “I was gonna run to the general store, but you could go for me.”

“No. I’m going to be here.” He scooped several more forkfuls of eggs in and downed his coffee fast enough to singe the roof of his mouth. “I’ll clean up. You go.”

She sighed and untied her apron. “Suit yourself. You’re gonna make yourself crazy the way you’re going.”

“Pa thinks I’m already there.” Dell grinned at her as he poured more coffee. “I’ll be fine. She’s going to wake up soon. I know it. Her fever broke last night.”

“All right.” She gripped his chin and smirked. “Behave.”

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted on his way back to the table.

Once the door closed, he scarfed down the rest of his food and rushed through scraping his plate and washing all the dishes.  He’d just started a fresh pot of coffee when he heard a rustling from the bed.

He dared a peek and saw her slow blinking stare at the ceiling.

The stranger’s nose twitched, and he knew she’d already scented him. Still, she didn’t freak out or scream, just lay there. After a few minutes she moved again, her hands emerging from the covers to touch the chemise Olive had put on her.  Her delicate fingers trailed along the satin ribbon edging, then dropped back to the bed.

Part of him wanted to run over and drag her from the bed to find her story. Luckily he was in human form, so the logical part of him won out, for now. He pulled out the pan he’d just put away and grabbed the basket of eggs.

While she continued to make slow work of coming to life, he cooked up as many eggs as were left in Olive’s egg basket, and grabbed the fresh loaf of bread off the shelf. The stranger had been unconscious for three days, and he didn’t know how long before that it had been since she ate.

“What’s your name,” Dell spoke into the silence. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her stand, but she didn’t answer him. He frowned, contemplating forcing it out of her with the alpha, but he wanted to save that. “Should I just call you girl, then?”

“Leilyn.” Her voice was scratchy, raw.

Of course that’s why she didn’t speak at first, probably dehydrated. “Come and eat. You’ve been unconscious for a while, you must be starving.”

Her bare feet were silent on the floor as she crossed the room, and she sat without question. Before he could say anything else, she grabbed the mug of water he’d set down and gulped it down.

He scrambled for the pitcher and set it down.

She looked from the pitcher to her mug and back. After a heavy sigh and a shrug, she set the mug aside and grabbed the pitcher, drinking straight from it with large, slurping gulps.  Once the pitcher was drained, she set it aside and wiped her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you must be thirsty. I’m Dell, by the way.” He set down her plate and the bread. “Where are you from, Leilyn?”

Rather than answer, she shoveled the food in as fast as she’d chugged the water. With her plate cleaned of eggs she finally deigned to look his way.

Dell’s breath caught in his throat at the intense green of her eyes unlike he’d seen before. Even among Were’s the color seemed unnatural. “Where are you from?”

“Somewhere else.” She reached for the bread, lowering her gaze again.

“Clearly.”

*~*

Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!

Tuesday Tales – Toes – Natural Selection

by Sarah | Jan 5, 2014 | Books, Tuesday Tales, Writing

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Toes.

Honestly, I despise feet, and considering I just had surgery on my toes, this whole prompt made me shudder…but since it’s been some time since I did a TT, I powered through.

This week I’m starting a new story that came to me over the past couple of weeks. It’s a historical paranormal – with Werewolves. I have a good idea where the story is going, but as usual I’m mostly pantsing it.

Dell “DB” Baxter is the Beta to his dad’s Alpha in their pack in southern Indiana. The year is 1882. They’ve recently been under attack by another pack of Were’s, but not wolves, big cats – cougars. While not indigenous to the area, this cougar pack was pushed out of its area by another pack and is trying to find new territory, so DB’s wolf pack is on the defensive and making regular, frequent patrol schedules. On this particular night, DB finds something interesting:

The light of the half-full moon was strong enough to shimmer through the clouds and light the tops of the bare trees across the Ohio River. Each snowdrop that fell in the mild snowstorm caught and reflected the light as they fluttered down to the water.

In full Werewolf form, Dell sat on the edge of the bank to scan the far shore for any sign of foe. While there were homes nearby, he wasn’t worried about getting caught, by now most of the locals either knew of the pack or pretended they knew nothing about it, while still entrusting the pack with their protection.

Years ago his grandfather, then the pack Alpha, had learned to increase their numbers by simple interbreeding with humans. In order to that, the pack had to get along with normal humans and develop a relationship with them. The small group of Swedes and Germans that had come and purchased the land now called Tell City were the test.

Successes and failures abounded, and to this day Dell’s own father still didn’t know what made a successful Werewolf birth. Human woman sometimes survived, and sometimes didn’t. None of them liked the risk, but at least their pack was beginning to thrive again when many were dying out from inbreeding.

Dell shook the snow out of his fur for the fifth time since he’d started his patrol along the river. For weeks they’d increased patrols, despite the worsening weather. The edges of the river had started to freeze, but that hadn’t kept the damnable Werecats off their land.

At least dawn was on its way to making a dim appearance. Instinct told him another two hours and his patrol would be complete, which meant two days of freedom before his next patrol. If you could call anything he did freedom.

A splash several yards down the river drew his attention out of his own thoughts. His ears flicked around to try to pick out the sound again, a low growl resonating in his chest.

For the briefest moment he thought he caught the undertone of a high pitched whine carry on the wind, but dismissed it as imagination. He rose off his haunches and shook the snow off again before he began a slow pace along the edge of the river.

One paw at a time, he moved as silent as he could, his nose constantly twitching in an effort to catch a hint of a foreign scent.

Ten yards of the slow progression was a painstaking necessity that revealed a reward. On the edge of the bank lay a figure, one that wasn’t moving.

As he moved closer, his keen nose told him it wasn’t a cat, if anything, it was another wolf, and definitely a she. She lay face down on the riverbank—stark naked and soaking wet from her head down to her toes.

A rumble of a protective growl rattled through him and he leaned down to nose the figure. Her flesh was cold to his nose and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing. With a strong push of his nose he rolled her over so she was face up.

She is pack. Every inch of him screamed the words, but he’d never seen her before, which meant she couldn’t be a pack member. As the packs’ beta he knew every member of their pack, even those that didn’t live close.

He huffed air out his nose to clear the hair from her throat and pressed his muzzle against the vein. A faint, slow pulse beat under her flesh, not fast enough for a Were to survive long.

Panic jolted through him so fast, his whole body jerked and he lifted his muzzle to the sky. His long low howl echoed through the night, bouncing along the trees where it was picked up by another Were and carried through the lands. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the communication reached the northernmost point of their territory where his father patrolled.

While he waited for the response, he went to her midsection and nudged his nose under her wrist. Nestling down into his paws, he launched forward fast enough to lift her and scoot under until she was draped across his back.

Even though as a Were he was larger thank your standard wolf, her feet and hair still touched the ground, but he had to get her away from the edge of the water.

DB. His father’s telepathic communication came across as clear as if they were haunch to haunch. What is it?

I found someone. She isn’t a cat, I believe she’s wolf. Dell didn’t know why he didn’t tell his father his belief she was pack, but he kept that quiet for now. She is soaking wet, her heart beat is too slow to sustain a Were.

I’m sending Olive. Do what you can to keep her warm until Olive gets there.

Dell trudged up the wet, snowy bank toward the road. I’ll do my best. It’s snowing heavy, and not a candle was lit at my howl.

Not surprised. That area prefers to ignore us unless they need us. Wait for Olive.

Yes, sir. At the roadside, Dell dropped his head and shoulders down so the woman rolled off his back.

She landed with her back to the ground, her now-filthy hair haphazardly splayed across her face. If he wasn’t warmer as a wolf he’d consider shifting and running her to shelter, but he’d never find shelter warm enough to keep her safe. As it was, her fingers and toes could be at risk.

Another quiet high-pitched whine rented the air, this time he didn’t doubt it came from her. As much as his wolf wanted to peek lower, Dell kept his gaze on her face. With each drop of snow he delayed the inevitable, so he finally took the step to stand over her and dropped his full weight onto her torso, his muzzle nestled in the crook of her neck.

Within ten minutes he sensed more than he saw another wolf drawing near. After another five minutes, his long-time friend Byron appeared trotting down the road toward him. Even in wolf form, the man kept a cocky grin. Need help? I’m happy to take point position on that one.

Despite his effort to laugh, only a growl emerged and he pulled his lips back to bare his teeth. Watch it.

Touchy. Byron circled the scene and sniffed in either direction. Alpha says it’ll be at least an hour until Olive makes it this far. That girl needs more heat.

Shift and make a fire. I’m not moving, she needs wolf heat, she’s Were.

Byron’s head tilted and he almost bowed to Dell before he scattered away into the trees. Five minutes later an obscene amount of rustling and cursing started to come out of the trees. “Damn it, where is our hidey hole? I thought it was right here.”

Dell chuckled; he knew Byron was yards from their hidey hole. All around their lands the pack hid basics for a fire and one set of clothes in case they were needed for decency. The clothes would be perfect for the woman lying beneath him, but he knew Byron wouldn’t think of that, at least probably not.

“Son of a—” A thump echoed out from the trees.

If he’d been in human form, Dell would have busted a gut laughing. In wolf form, Byron was one of the best hunters. As a human, he was an eternal klutz. Dell couldn’t figure out why, since most of the time Were senses carried to human form. Unfortunately, the telepathy didn’t happen when one was human.

“Oh! There it is.” Byron emerged five minutes later with his curly blond hair askew and filled with twigs and snow. He only wore the pants from the hidey hole and carried the supplies for the fire in a shirt.  “All right, here we go. One fire coming up. I’ll wrap the shirt around her feet. I ain’t a wolf no more, but I could sit on her legs. You got her hands covered?”

Dell woofed low in response, not moving even though he wanted to correct Byron’s attempt to make a fire. Eventually the guy would get it right, and Dell couldn’t shift anyway, so he closed his eyes and sighed.

A few minutes later Byron whooped. “Look at that. Fastest I ever made a fire. I’m gonna go get more wood. You two behave.”

Dell curled his lip in another snarl, which Byron only laughed at. When his friend disappeared back into the trees, Dell lifted his head and studied the woman again. Her face was still covered by her muddy, wet hair. There wasn’t anything to see, but he was compelled to sit vigil and wait for signs of life, anything beyond the faint breaths she took underneath him and the weak beat of her heart in her chest.

Eventually she’d wake.

And he’d be there.

He’d make sure of it.

*~*

Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!