Rijo Watches Gerra Turn

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I twisted in a panicked side step—her lovely tail had disappeared, her bottom was smooth and rounded. My tears splattered onto my paws as I noted her muzzle had flattened into a tiny jaw and her soft nose had lost its color. All that remained of my sister were her yellow-black eyes—wild and full of fear.

She flinched from my rumbling growl, a continuous threat pulling from behind my clenched teeth. Whimpers burst from her pale throat and she collapsed to her knees, submissive and anxious for me to taste her lifeblood.

Raw terror spiraling though me, anger shook my hind legs and I lunged.

Six Sentence Sunday and Father's Embrace

I wrote this paranormal novella for my dad. Here's the first six lines:

The moon had yet to rise the night my mother died and my sister’s fate was sealed. Mother took the invader down, ripped through clothing, skin, muscle and slammed her incisors into bone before the man managed to slash his weapon across her throat.

Metallic. Salty. Arousing. My first scents of human and wolf blood had me reeling.

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The Thought Process

Words of wisdom to contemplate when scrubbing down, editing a work in progress for the zillionth time.

Six Sentence Sunday--Oops!

It's that time again. Alot of outstanding writers involved this week:

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Without an arrow to the heart, she had to understand that a world renowned playboy wanted to bed her and her alone. He had to entangle Cheia so tightly she’d not only forgive him, she’d prove to them both that she could love him for himself, not the persona his parents and the media perceived him to be.

Cu had never felt this way before, and he knew there’d not be another he’d let wrap their hand around two of his fingers like Cheia did now—except—last night as he peeled off his spent condom, the only one he had with him, an infant’s face filled his mind. The intensity of joy that had seized him as he imagined her eyes, her dusty skin color to match her mother’s, he’d gotten so hard he jumped right back on top of Cheia again. He had pulled out in time? Of course he had.

Six Sentence Sunday. Parents--for Better or Worse

From preferred weapon to more complex issues such as pleasing Mother, our hero has disagreed with Father from day one. Born of a nympho and a warmonger, taking on the job of forcing others to fall in love seems fated.
Another clip from:
Joy's Creation

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“Going somewhere?” Dad grunted.
“Yes.” Cu squeaked.
“After that sexy little thing wearing your shirt who just left in a cab?”
No oxygen to help him speak, Cu nodded.
Dad dropped him. His brows slotted into killing angles, the six foot eight inch giant—looking damn sharp in a tuxedo—glared at the gawkers. They fled while Dad grasped Cu’s ear between two fingers and dragged him along to the nearest door. One blow of Daddy’s fist and it wisely yielded from its hinges.

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