Blurb File Friday

So in an effort to provide something potentially more interesting in my blog post content, I have made the executive decision to do a weekly post on Fridays from my “Blurb File”. This is the massive folder of random snippets, excerpts, and character sketches that I have written over the course of…well years now. Any time I come up with a bit of a scene or dialogue or an interesting character, I jot it down in the blurb file for use in a later book sometime. This does not include the 35+ WIPS I have in various stages (yeah I have had a bit of a problem focusing on one piece until the end). But anyway, I thought y’all might get a kick out of seeing some of what I write. Keep in mind, these are all rough. And without further adieu, today’s pick from the Blurb File:

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. You know. Etc.

He stood in the shadows, a creature of darkness and moonlight, tempting as dark chocolate sin. Strands of radiance sifted through the branches overhead and gilded his raven tresses with a web of stark silver. There was a glint in his eyes that had nothing to do with the moon as he looked at her from out the long, sooty lashes. She knew, by all that was unholy, that he wanted her. And God help her, she wanted to drown in him. To lose herself in the grey mists of his eyes, the warmth of his lips playing over hers. Forbidden fruits were, after all, the sweetest.

Why did the innocent always think it safe to walk the night?

With a curl of those sensuous lips, he held out a hand to her in invitation. That single, alabaster hand, elegant as that of a Renaissance prince, was a gateway.

To what?

A new world?

A new life?

Or one night of pleasure?

Would the portal swing closed and lock behind her, effectively trapping her with the choice that she alone could make?

Could she still turn back? Turn away and run?

Or was she already beyond the point of no return?

Had he been Puck or Pan, Loki or Coyote she would have been fascinated and wary but unafraid. Tricksters. Creatures of myth and legend. They were the stuff of dreams. Fanciful. Wicked. But not really evil. And always with a weakness to be discerned by a watchful eye.

But this one was no trickster by those standards. He was far more alluring and dangerous. To be near him was to breathe the essence of smooth seduction and pleasure.

“Afraid?” he asked, his mocking tone a dagger to her pride and courage.

She set her jaw and met his eyes squarely.

“No,” she replied and took the hand he offered.

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