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9/28/2017

Work in Progress ♦ Handle With Care (September 2017)

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Word Count: 13,889

Have you heard of the term: Busier than a one-armed paper hanger.

Well, that would be me! I'm so excited to on the publishing side, but on the writing side, all I have are scenes in my head that play over and over because until I get them down on paper, they don't leave me alone. It's gotten so bad that my hunny is cooking dinner for us. He's a great cook, but usually I like to feed us. Also, the loss of my beloved Allie, our German Shepard mix, the loss of my best trail partner Neo, my mom and dad's Laberdoodle, has left me out of sorts. Two dogs and two relatives are gone from our lives and I fear this story--being subjected to my moods--will be very dark indeed.

I have more inspirations for Kai...I'm going for an attitude and I think these guys have something I want to take away from certain scenes.

While I'm busy preparing others stories for publication, I'm far from dropping this story. I must get my writing in while I can and it looks like winter will be a writing productive time this year. And since I have 7K more words than I did last month, I at least have something to show you! Ready for the teaser? Awesome! Here we go!

Handle With Care

It took every trick I’d learned, both from the street and under sheets but I finally had an address. And a full name.

The first month, during my hospitalization, he’d been that man. I asked for him. They called him The Wall. I asked nurse after nurse who that man was. I got a lot of confused looks, a few head shakes and that CCS agent. But finally, it was my intensivist in the ICU that had given me something real. A name. Kai.

For years that’s all I had to go on. Kai with the hard-soft eyes. Kai “The Wall” CCS agent. Kai, my savior—and my hell.

I didn’t know whether to hug him for saving me or punch him in the gut for breaking his promise. He said he wouldn’t leave me. To a twelve-year-old boy, promises were magic. Oh, I’d been disillusioned way before my adolescent years, but his words were not given lightly. He’d meant what he’d said. But it took me a while to figure out what he’d meant. He wouldn’t leave that house without me, but he wouldn’t stay forever.

I’d wanted forever. Starting that first night he knocked on my parent’s door he’d kindled hope to escape that hell. I never knew he’d break into my nightmare to bring me a different kind of misery. Some kids were runaways. I was a throwaway. Too much work for my own parents, too much of a hassle for teachers to notice, too much baggage for foster’s to take.

No one wanted me, so I became my own man. I’d found out the streets were a home, “friends” treated you like punching bags, and school could be a sanctuary.

Standing across the street of a gated community in Woodland Hills, I found my moment of truth. Getting this far took years of research. Now, everything fell into place. I had two options, meet Kai at work or meet him at his house. I figured this was personal. Plus, I had a plan. Sort-of.

In the cooling fall and the Santa Ana breeze, I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and crossed the street to my destiny. Obstacles towards my goal were welcome. Hell, if things were easy, I’d become suspicious.
Gated communities were a trial and error on how to get inside. Some had cameras. Some had guards. Some had security theatre, and some took the privacy of their tenants seriously. Kai’s place was just gated. Clicker entrance. A few cameras easy to spot and work around. I walked down the gate, to the blind corner and jumped the fence.

Once inside, it was all access.

The place was nice. Nicer than I thought a social worker could afford. The kind of place me and my “friends” might like for its lax security and high-profile status. I went down a corridor between a pool and tent cabanas, past a stairwell, walked under balconies and through a hallway. Up close the Tuscany theme with tan and white paint, brick work and high ceilings could make you forget this was Woodland Hills and not apartments in Italy. I was way out of my league.

I stepped up to his front door, my stomach in knots. My gut churned so much I just might knock and ask him for a bathroom before anything. This was the kind of place that had bathrooms for pool-side goers, I might just try and find one before reuniting with my savior.

Standing on his plain, efficient door mat, I took a breath. I had nothing planned, no prepared conversation, just hope he’d remember me and faith we’d have that connection once more. The magnetism might have only been during that moment five years ago. I might not have the same reaction to him. But the least I could do is say thank you.

No. Think positive. There will be more.

I knocked and waited.

He took forever. Not enough for me to count ten heartbeats, but an eternity.

Kai Akiyama, the man who saved my life, opened the door wide. He looked exactly the same as he had when we first meet. Dark, silky hair tossed in his cat-like eyes, shielding his gaze roaming over me. His evaluation was an up, then down, passed over the scar on my neck then back to my eyes.

Living in the streets taught me things. Things like when a person measured you, they were probably skilled in handling themselves. They were the people you didn’t want to mess with. I knew Kai could handle himself. I’d seen him take down my three-hundred-pound father in under two seconds. Every time I thought about it, my prick got excited.

“Do I know you?” Kai tilted his head, then he threw up his mask. The one he used the night he told me not to die.

“Yeah, you do.” I cocked my hip to one side.

His dark eyes threw a little suspicion mixed in with a dash of hope my way.

“You said you’d take me with you, so since you didn’t, I’ve come to you.”

There was a hint of recognition and I used his confusion to my advantage. I slipped in his house before he could protest. He didn’t stop me, though I knew he could.

Kai turned to face me, holding the door. “What is your name?”

Odd. I expected Get the hell out! or Why the fuck are you here? or How did you get in? Not Kai. He waited, seemingly with my name on the tip of his tongue, but like the intelligent man I expected he was, he wouldn’t give anything away. No cold reader was going to get the upper hand on Kai.

“Liam Kroll.” I smiled.

My name put a hairline fracture along his indifferent mask. “I am glad to see you are well.”

The duffle bag in my hand slipped out and landed with a soft whoomph. After two-thousand and six nights of wanting to see his face once more… after having been reunited with the man I admired—hell I’d go so far as to say loved—my anger got the better of me.

“Glad? Glad I’m well? That’s it you motherfucker?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “I didn’t mean that.” I slapped a hand over my mouth because otherwise, I was going to let him have it.

Kai stared at me with his impartial expression. I’d held that same face in memory for years. He blinked over and over. His lips parted but he didn’t speak. That intense attraction we’d had that first night we met returned at the most awful moment.

We held each other’s gaze. His calm confidence washed over me as it had five years ago. That answered question number one. Our connection snapped alive as though we never parted. I squirmed under his gaze. My breath hitched. It felt the same as standing next to a Tesla coil. Energy flowed through me and it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made me want to run. Imagine touching pure electricity. Being close to Kai would fry my brain.

“Liam, this is an inconvenient time.”

Of all the crass bullshit, I couldn’t help it, he asked for this. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just settle in here. Is it a one bedroom? Two?”

Shit. What if he was married? What if he had kids of his own? I hadn’t researched that. I’d built in my head how he was going to be thrilled to see me, that I’d be wanted. That, to him, I wasn’t a throwaway. Stupid. If I was someone he wanted, he’d had plenty of time to pick me up.

Kai opened his mouth.

I cut him off. “I don’t care, asshole. You don’t tell someone they can’t die and then abandon them. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve found you and now I’m sticking to you. I’m all yours.”

Below are pictures of what Liam is describing as Kai's place.

That's all I have for now! Until next time!
Happy reading!
♥ ~ Stephy

Handle with Care (Chapter One)

Next Handle with Care update

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9/21/2017

Book Review ♦ Grinding My Gears: 1:30 a.m. (An Off-The-Rails Ice Era Chronicle) By C.M.Moore

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10 stars out of 5

You see it right. Ten (10) stars ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ out of 5 (five). This is one of my all time favorite stories. A Dystopian Sci-Fi Romeo and Juliet with a HEA. I can't recommend this wonderful story enough.

I would recommend this story to:

Dystopian readers

Sci-fi readers

Romance Suspense readers

Apocalyptic Romance readers

Romance readers who just love a good take on Romeo and Juliet

Readers hot for sexy nerds

I'm wowed by this novella. It's 40k of pure genius entertainment. I am amazed at thi story and how perfect it is (at least for me). It made me cheer, it made me cry, it lead me to hope even spotting right away this was another retelling of Romeo and Juliet. But this ending is so much better.

Blurb

Adam, aka Gears, is a brilliant scientist, doctor and the creator of the water bases that all underground dwellers use to survive. His family and friends would give him anything he desires. The world is at his feet. But for all his good fortune, the one thing Gears wants he can’t have. A long and healthy life.

As he faces his slowly worsening heart condition, he meets an unlikely savior in the form of Luna, a member of a rival organization known as The Originals.

Luna is part of a group that is out to see the destruction of everything that Gears has built. Even though she is connected to a world Gears can never be a part of, she risks her life to meet him and save him from death.

The two of them set off on a road trip that neither of them can evade, and have no idea if their journey will lead to a happily-ever-after or catastrophe.

Luna’s illogical ways has Gears questioning everything he thinks he knows about life and love. But she is his only hope for survival before the final beat of his heart.

Book Trailer

The skill in this writing was so perfect it would be an awessome movie. So now that I've ranted on this story, let me give some background about the main character, Gears, aka Adam.

He is a secondary character in 1:05 a.m. and this novella is his story. I couldn't have asked for a better spin-off. It's phenomenal. C.M.Moore did not just toss this character away after his first book. I loved Gears in 1:05 a.m. Gears enriched the book and with this novella, Gears is more real, with his own life and ... wow, just wow. This story for me was what a love story should be about. Amazingly brave. I'm sold on this series and can't wait for more.

Inside Scoop

C.M.Moore is planning on weaving stories or "off-the-rails" novellas between the full sized novels in the Ice Era Chronicle series. Each character we meet in the books will get their own novel or novella.

So here's where you need to pay attention.

His novels are all m/f romances, BUT the novellas and short stories are going to more "free" about love.

So, if m/m or m/f/m or f/f is not your style, stick to the "05's" as in 1:05 a.m., 2:05 a.m., 3:05 a.m, 4:05 a.m. etc. But, the middle ones like 1:30 a.m. (Grinding My Gears) and 2:15 a.m or 2:45 a.m. better know as the "off-the-rails" sub-series are going to be unconventional love. Guys on guys, guys on guys and girls, stuff like that. You won't miss much if you choose to skip them except for the amazing story telling. But that's okay. If you really just can't stomach the love scenes and are too squiggly about love is love, he's got ya covered. Just stick to the "05's".

With that said, I'd feel sorry for you if you were not to read the "off-the-rails" part of the series. Grinding My Gears enriched the world and characters for me, gave me insight into the mechanics and made me realize, this series isn't just based off the two families of the first book but really it's about Gears and his legacy. I couldn't be happier. Because I have a soft spot for sexy nerds who go head long for a not so damsel in distress.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

There were a lot of things he could handle, but congestive heart failure wasn’t one of them. Especially since it was his heart that had decided it didn’t want to beat anymore. For the first time in his life, Gears didn’t have any answers.

“Doctor Gears… I hate to tell you this, but…” The doctor hesitated. Gears recognized that hesitation. That was the same pause he used when giving bad news.

“Just call me Gears,” he said to fill the silence of the other doctor’s exam room. He wished he was anywhere but here.

“It’s getting worse. What you’ve been doing hasn’t resulted in the improvements you’d hoped for.” Doctor Dana picked up a neat stack of medical documents off his desk. Gears’ name and information were printed in bold lettering on the top of the first page.

Gears didn’t respond. Instead, he decided to get dressed. After pulling his sweater over his head, he picked up his thick coat while he shoved all his emotions down. He’d never really gotten the knack of dealing with turbulent feelings. He preferred logic, levelheadedness, and practicality. He ruthlessly sucked down the fear and panic. All he needed to do was… nothing came to him. He didn’t know what to say or do. He was dying. Dana hadn’t said that, but that was what he meant.

“I’m planning on going to H.S.P.C. Headquarters in Dallas.” Gears tugged on his long, tan down coat as he slid off the sterile metal table. “This information won’t change that.”

“I think that’s a good decision. I’ll be there to help you.”

“I don’t need anyone. I’m a doctor.” He snapped at the other man just as he snapped his coat closed.

Dana looked momentarily taken aback, then he nodded. Gears thought briefly about apologizing. He was frustrated at life right now, not at the new doctor. This was it. There was nothing more they could do. He couldn’t accept that. He refused. There had to be an answer somewhere. Picking up his black backpack from the floor, he swung the bag onto his back. He would figure out this puzzle by himself. He could do it. In the past, he’d always solved problems like this on his own.

“I’m sorry. I think I’ll go.” Gears took two steps toward the exit.

“Before you go, I want to say something. I plan to stay for the birth of Karma’s baby. That was the agreement I made with Keith. I think with the two of us, and the midwife, it should go smoothly.” Dana glanced down at the papers in his hands then held them out for Gears to take. “But I think that before I leave the base, you should tell Karma and Mac.” He paused again. “Specifically, Mac.”

Gears snatched the papers out of the other man’s hand. He stuffed them into his bag. He wasn’t going to tell his friend. He wasn’t going to tell anyone. Even though lying went against his private code of honor, Gears had chosen to keep this a secret from both Karma and Mac. He’d told them that he was just going to Headquarters to work on information the C.T.O.N.A. had released about Snow Flu. It wasn’t an outright lie, but that didn’t give him peace. True, he was going to do as much as he could for the growing population who were sick, but he was really going to get access to better medical care. Telling all this to Mac would only bring around pity and coddling. Gears wasn’t going to leave as a dying man, and he wasn’t going to heap his problems on his best friend, particularly not when he had a new baby due any day. He was alright on his own. He was, after all, a brilliant scientist.

Returning to the door, Gears rested his hand on the knob.

“Keith asked you to come here because he was concerned about Karma giving birth with only a male doctor, and he misunderstood your name. If you hadn’t shown up, no one would know about me. I plan to keep this between us. I expect you to honor doctor-patient confidentiality.” Gears didn’t turn around but stubbornly stared forward. He was acting as wooden as the door, but he didn’t care.

“Is that the polite way of telling me to butt out?”

Gears glanced over his shoulder. “I didn’t think I was being polite.”

“I respect your wishes even if I don’t agree with them. I want you to know that I plan to travel with you to Dallas when you’re ready to relocate. We may not get along very well, Doctor, but you’re my patient whether you like it or not.”

Gears’ shoulders slumped. This conversation was exhausting. He didn’t want to have a doctor taking care of him. He hated lying to his best friend. And most of all, he didn’t want to be dying because his heart was pumping incorrectly.

Taking one last look over his shoulder, he nodded to Dana. “Good afternoon, Doctor.”

“Good afternoon.”

The words were barely out of Doctor Dana’s mouth when there was a loud rap that grabbed their attention.

“Doctor? Oye?” The words were followed by more banging. Gears threw open the door. Essie was standing on the other side. The tall Hispanic water base guard had his black curly hair sticking up everywhere. Sweat dotted the young man’s brow. He looked like he’d just run through the base.

“Gears!” Essie exclaimed. “Karma’s having her baby. Boss sent me to get you.”

“She’s two days early,” Dana commented as he picked up a large green medical case off his desk.

“She’s in her room with Mac.” Essie was breathing hard. Another indication that he might’ve run through the base. Either that or a signifier that he should quit smoking. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“We’re coming right now.” Gears pushed everything Doctor Dana had just told him about his heart out of his mind. Mac’s baby was more important. The child would be his only focus right now. Whenever anything was too scary to deal with, he took solace in his work. He was absolutely going to do that now.

“You go ahead of us, Essie.” Dana waited for Gears in the water base hall. “Tell Mac to check her contractions just like Doctor Gears taught him. Make her comfortable.”

“Did you tell the midwife?” Gears asked as Dana closed the door behind them. They started down the hall.
“Keith wanted a woman there.”

“I’ll do that next.” Essie was off like a shot. Gears glanced to the other doctor when he put his hand out to stop Gears from chasing after the twenty-year-old.

“You’re not running anywhere,” Dana frowned. “You’ll walk. Slowly.”

So much for being able to ignore his failing heart.

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9/14/2017

Story Update ♦ The King's Thief (Chapter 11)

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So, this isn't Cynthia's, but my own inspiration for Bowden. All artists need to rest, so the next illustration shall be the last for The King's Thief. The story will also be completed in the next installment. It takes stamina and determination to keep going as artists, writers, creators and though one may have enthusiasm for a project at first, the new wears off and you need sheer will to continue through the exhaustion. Creating (writing/illustration) is like running. You have sprints, marathons, half-marathons and mile goals. Training is in between those races. Rest is in between training. Motivation is the only thing that keeps you running. When lost, your body screams "no more", just like a hand cramp and writer's block sets in.

So, my dear, sweet reader. This is the second to last installment of "The King's Thief". I'll be biting my nails on what to give you next, but I will have something! I have a few ideas in my head and one story started that is a paranormal-shifter romance. It's *not* the usual alpha wolf type story with a twist. But that's all I'm going to say.

For now, here is the next installment of "The King's Thief"...

If you are completely lost, and this is your first time here, you might want to start from the beginning. I suggest clicking on "The King's Thief" under the CATEGORIES on the right hand side of the screen. Or clicking the button below to start at the beginning.

For the rest of you...enjoy!

The King's Thief (Chapters 1 & 2)

This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This chapter is the continuation of a story called "The King's Thief". Click the button above for more details.

No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. Thank you!

The King's Thief

Chapter 11

The ropes at my wrists were released but I couldn’t move. Bishop Aldo twisted his staff back to one piece and stood surveying the handiwork he produced on my back. “Rest, my dear, tomorrow is another day.”

He was going to keep me here beyond our planned stay. I wanted to warn Detrien, or the rogues, but I couldn’t move. Two minutes after the bishop left, I hissed at a coolness covering my back. Large hands rubbed a balm over my wounds. The whiff of Chartan de perfume invaded my nose. He guided himself underneath me, my head in his lap, while I stayed on my stomach. He cradled me, continuing to stroke my back, spreading the balm.

“Chartan…”

“Don’t speak to me,” his voice rough and gravelly as if from a long day of yelling. “At this moment, I would say you deserved every strike for disobeying me.” But his soothing hands claimed the opposite.

His hands were the only thing steady on me, the rest of his body shook.

“Bowden…” I said.

“I know.” His voice shook. “I have restrained myself to go with your plan.”

“You spoke with Gustave?”

“Yes.” He continued to spread the balm over my back.

We spoke no more. He was angry. I’d felt the same when all I could do was watch them torture Bowden. But now I had a plan.

My first instinct was to smile broadly, walk tall, and hide my hurts and ailments. But that’s not what to bishop wanted. He wanted to see me cowed, feeble, meek and grateful for his beatings.

The thought made me want to rebel harder. In my youth, I would have stuck to my instincts, but if Bowden, the rogues, Detrien, Chartan and me were to make it out alive, I had to play along. Instead of flaunting my confidence, I hid my face—looking at the floor and stepped out my room to morning mass. The two guards snapped to attention and followed me down the pillar hallways.

The chapel was the only room with natural light filtering in through the high windows. Two balconies ran over the row of a hundred pews. White glazed walls reflected the diffused sunlight causing a celestial haze. The affect awed everyone seated. As much as I wanted to impute a certain bishop to god right now, I had to find Gustave and tell him where to find the keys and Bowden.

Gustave spotted me but instead of smiling and waving he backed into a shadow. I stopped, frowning at the contrast to his usual personality. Gustave’s manner had changed from last night. Before, everything for the boy was easy, a game, his confidence high. He’d aged overnight, the innocence a bit diminished, a hint of fear behind that boyish glint in his eyes. My heart sunk wondering if the bishop hadn’t pulled him aside last night and—I stopped my thought, I couldn’t bear to continue its course.

My guard urged me forward. “Bishop Aldo has a place of honor for you at the front.”

I blinked at the man. This was my only chance to communicate to Gustave. I grabbed the pendent around my neck and pointedly looked to Gustave and then down at the pendant.

Gustave watched me with those innocent eyes, huge and observant. I didn’t get an acknowledgment, but I didn’t see confusion either. I just had to hope he understood and walked with the guards to my reserved seat. There would be no sleep during the service.

Continuing down the aisle I scanned for any of Chartan’s men. None of them were there. The matter was curious, but not overly so. Detrien probably got them out of morning mass or I’d missed them in the crowded pews. They were rogues trained to disappear. Besides, I couldn’t sit with them, denying a bishop’s wish boded no favor. Not when the church was over filled with worshipers. I couldn’t see Detrien, and I had a feeling he was in back with the bishop.

Throughout the service I kept my attentions towards the front, no matter how great the temptation was to look over my shoulder and scan the crowd. The deacon and the bishop had much to say and as the droning went on. I entertained myself with rebuttals to their gospel. Not aloud of course.
By the end, I was ready to climb the tallest tower and fling myself out the window. Finally, Detrien stepped out from behind the curtains. His eyes searched until he found me. His smile plastered, his wave to the adoring crowd casual, but my teeth were set on edge by his pale complexion and stiff walk. At first I’d thought his slight limp was a physical pain, but it was his rigid body language that tipped me into his stress. My cousin was wound tighter than a violin.

When he began to sing, everyone came to a hush. The air stilled waiting for my cousin’s command. After the first chord, the cold beauty of the chapel turned pleasant. The blinding light toned to a softer shade of warm yellow, and sharp colors turned a deeper rich. But my cousin’s baritone did not reach his full range. His eyes did not sparkle as they usually did when giving all of his heart to his music. No one would notice except for Detrien’s teacher—and me. He was either holding back unwilling to give the Randish his all, or he was terrified enough for it to effect his performance. At the end, he received his usual standing ovation. He bowed and walked off stage—straight to me.

His fierce embrace was more than devote love to his last remaining family. Detrien’s lips pressed to my ear, “They know. Say nothing.” Then he pulled away holding my hands and with a wide smile said, “Tonight you shall accompany me on stage.”

I could barely hear him over the thunder of applause and my swimming head at the knowledge that we’d been found out. How? I replayed everything in my mind starting from the moment we walked through those front gates. The Randish were not stupid. A week after a ship raid—a prisoner caught—Detrien not expected for another few months—the rogues suspicious behavior covering their faces—Bowden’s reaction to my voice. Of course they’d figure it out.

Bishop Aldo probably brought me down to the dungeons to confirm it. Well, they hadn’t found Chartan and I could imagine the thief’s smug face telling me I should have gone back to Xaxyia.

Getting specific information from Detrien was going to be tricky. I could read a man well, his thoughts, his likes, his mind, but attaining exact words even from a man I knew would be difficult. Determining to get us all out alive, I’d have to hone every skill I practiced to its full potential. But I would no longer play their game. I was Lady Dauphine of the Rouellean families. The rightful queen to Quenarre. My people had faced enough bleak hope among tyrants that couldn’t treat their own people more than pigs in a galley. I was not meek or mild. I was queen of this country.
Detrien’s fake smile turned genuine. “Finally, you know what you are.”

Guards surrounded us, separating the common people from Saint Detrien. While we walked down the aisle, common wild flowers were thrown before us and at us. The people cheered their adoration of my cousin. He was most likely their only refuge from a life under the thumb of the bishop.
Finally, after a thousand feet procession down the aisle we were free of the crowd, but were herded to the dining room. Bishop Aldo sat at the far end of the table still in his garbed white robes. Deacon Philip hovered over a tied-up Gustave sitting in a chair closest to me. The boys ruffled dark hair, scratches over his right eye and a bruised left cheek infuriated me.

“Let him go!”

Staring back at the bishop’s sadist-in-crime with the fire of a determined badger, Gustave struggled with the ropes.

Bishop Aldo’s lips quirked in an amused half grin. “Good. You’re here. It seems we have a dilemma I think you can fix, Dauphine.”

“Lady Dauphine.” Detrien scowled.

The bishop stood and tipped his head. “Yes, of course, Lady Dauphine Rouelle.”

My name—my full name, how did he know?

“Who else could seduce my soldiers to do her bidding?” He said.

“What?” Confused I tried thinking back. When did I ask the soldiers to do anything?

The bishop took his staff in hand and walked to the end of the table. “Randish soldiers are hardened to horrors of war. They fight without mercy against heathens. Yet you ask one of them to look after a sinner.”

The only thing I asked of the soldiers was when we first arrived. “You mean the boy? The child whose only misfortune was trying to get a better glimpse of Detrien as we rode by?”

“That boy broke God’s law.”

“By being curious?”

“Enough! Come here.” Bishop Aldo extended his hand as bishop’s do to worshipers who want to kiss his ring.

Detrien stepped protectively in front of me. “You said she would be safe.”

Those words made my head swim, had Detrien sold us out for my safety? I looked at Gustave—the boy showed no sign of shock only anger. This was planned or Gustave knew about this turn of events.

“Detrien?” I whispered. “What have you done?”

“I said,” the bishop dropped his hand. “You and your cousin would stay here. The others, they need to go.”

The way he said “go” wasn’t of the “let them go” variety. He was going to kill them all.

Deacon Philip produced a knife and pressed the blade under Gustave’s chin. “Talk cretin, don’t make the lady watch me cut out your tongue through your throat, where are my keys?”

Triumph near overwhelmed my schooling. I wanted to laugh. Gustave surely swallowed all three keys. They’d never find them, unless they dissected Gustave as they did Bowden.

“I know where they are.” I stepped forward.

Gustave whipped his head and pleaded with his eyes. Beads of blood dripped from the underside of his chin.

Bishop Aldo turned to his deacon in smug satisfaction. Deacon Philip sneered back. Righteous bastards. They thought they were above their god’s law. My mind worked as to how to get out of this and found only one answer. Crafty word-shadowing was in order. I could only pray Detrien could decipher my code. “He was trained by the black brothers, he’ll keep the key close to the door.”

Deacon Philip spurt out orders to the guards, “Search the holding room.”

I snorted in disgust. “You really think he’s that stupid? You think you’re going to find it above the door frame?”

Bishop Aldo sighed, and stood up. “Bring them.”

“Your Grace, we should look first.”

“No,” the bishop waved a hand in annoyance. “She’s right and I want this over with.”

To get back to his ritual beatings.

The Deacon hauled up Gustave. Though the rogue’s hands were tied in ropes he was free to walk. Soldiers created an oval wall of steel surrounding his grace and the deacon trailing Chartan’s protégé, Detrien and I. My cousin walked beside me while Gustave walked behind us and in front of the Randish Theocracy. Looking at him up close Detrien’s usual silky hair was stringy. His broad shoulders slumped. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to my queues to catch my subtleties. I had to get Detrien out of his despair. I needed his help. “Why did you tell them my name?”

“I didn’t.” His eyes remained on the floor.

Looking back at Gustave, the boy was a professional. He gave nothing away, just stared at me, not acknowledging or denying my glace trying to tell him we would get out of here. Gustave was the quintessential protégé of Chartan.

We were almost to the stairs that led down to the dungeons. Turning back, I did my best to rile-up my cousin, “Whatever you traded for my safety, you’ve been cheated.”

His eyebrows pinched together and placed a hand on my shoulder. I winched and hissed at the pain from the lash. Detrien yanked his arm down. I felt his twitch, more than saw it. His hand curled to a fist. His steps became measured. I grabbed his arm. Not yet.

We turned the corner to the stairs. As I rounded I held my cousin’s hand in mine and bolt forward. I shoved the guard to the left of us. Thank goodness Detrien understood. Together, our combined weight and force pushed the man off-balance.

Metal plate crashed on stone as the soldier tumbled down. I was going to do the same to the one on the right, but he turned grabbed the back of his partner’s helmet and slammed it against his knee. The struck soldier was stunned and I planted the bottom of my shoe to his shoulder while grabbing his sword. With a shove of my foot, that one went down the stairs with his fellow and I had a weapon.

Blue eyes narrowed through a thin visor. “Now I have to go chasing him.”

That voice, those eyes…Chartan! The soldier to my left was Chartan!

I huffed, “You’re spoiling my rescue of Gustave.”

A reverberated snort through the metal helmet told me what he thought of my rescue.

From behind I was ambushed by the very person I was trying to save. Hands tied to his back, Gustave fell forward and into me. His weight was too much and we both tumbled. My shoulders hit an edge and the sword went out of my hand. Gustave’s face went into my cleavage. Then I was a-top the boy and I felt his hips impact with stone. We rolled another two, maybe three times, then we hit bottom. Flat on my back with the boy rolling off my top, the wind taken from me, I watched as Detrien and Chartan fought together against three guards pinning the Bishop and deacon against the stone wall.

Chartan and Detrien fought side to side with a six foot drop behind them. We had our own problems. Two soldiers were getting up and one of them still had a weapon. Grabbing the two daggers under my sleeves I had just enough time to block an overhand blow. “It’s not nice to try and kill a lady.”
The man hesitated for a moment, then blocked my lunge for his gut.

Gustave popped up and, still tied, started stomping on the other guard. “Could use a dagger right now.”

“You’re a rogue. Improvise.” I blocked and lunged again.

A soldier fell off the stairs. He was dead before he hit the lower level. Gustave kicked and I shielded his back. I couldn’t see Chartan or my cousin and I wouldn’t be able to bear watching either one getting hurt.

“Gustave, do you have the key?” I said.

In response, he knelled and started bringing up the keys in his own talented way.

The Deacon broke free from the fighting and went down the stairs, heading for Gustave. I was not going to let that man touch the boy and threw both my daggers into the deacon’s heart. He slammed up against the wall and looked down. Then he laughed. I ran to the downed soldier and grabbed a sword to defend myself.

Deacon Philip pulled the weapons out of his chest. “You have to have a heart to stab one.”

I realized my mistake. I’d thrown my daggers in the wrong place. He was like Bowden, his heart was on his right side, not his left. I blocked against the soldier, but the sword was a heavier weapon and I couldn’t wield it like my two daggers. Deacon Philip seemed to think me the greater threat and watched with mirth as I fought the soldier. While the two guards fighting Chartan and Detrien holding their own protecting the bishop, nobody noticed Gustave throwing up three keys, choosing one by his teeth and using talented lips to unlock the door.

Another guard fell dead to Chartan’s sword, but they wouldn’t reach me in time. A soldier’s heavy steel is not a lady’s choice in weaponry, at least not this lady. Still I swung to ward off my attacker. But my strength was failing and my opponent saw it.

“Give up, Lady Dauphine.” Deacon Philip paused his assault.

I rested the sword, point down, on the floor and panted. The deacon rushed forward and I slammed my elbow in his face. He reeled back. but another soldier bashed my body into the wall. Stunned, my arms were locked in chains above my head. I kicked, flailing.

“Grab her ankle.” The Deacon said and the guard caught my left foot. Deacon Philip grabbed my right foot and slipped in between my legs. His eyes narrowed and his smile widened. I tried biting his nose off but he pulled out of reach.

“Interesting thing my studies have taught me,” Deacon Philip said. “The body has many weaknesses, some you’d never think of.” He then pushed his finger across the spot where my nose and upper lip met and applied pressure. I had no choice but to back off. It didn’t hurt so much as cause a trigger response.

“We tried it the bishop’s way first, beating you to God’s will,” Deacon Philip said. “Now it’s my turn to try.” He started lifting my skirt and pulling down his pants. I tried kicking again but it was no use, I couldn’t strike anything. When he pulled out his cock it was the biggest thing I’d ever seen. Seriously, smaller women would have died from internal bleeding. How did Deacon Philip even think with a cock that huge? I’d seen large. This was not a cock to swoon over, it was terrifying. Even if I were ready, it would hurt.

Lightning crawled around Deacon Philip fast as a viper and ripped him off me. In the doorway, Bowden slung an arm around a badly beaten Torg and with his other hand, the mage shot lightning from his fingers. With a wild fierceness in his eyes Bowden poured lightning bolt after bolt into Deacon Philip until the man stopped twitching. Then with a torn scream from Bowden, he slahed the air with his hand and Philip Deacon’s body ripped in half.

The soldier beside me raised his sword and started after Bowden and Torg. I wrapped my legs around his ankle and the soldier tripped forward landing in front of Bowden.

The mage touched the soldier’s forehead and the man went down. Blood ran from the Randish soldiers ears. It seemed Bowden exploded the man’s brain. But the mage was not done, even dropped over Torg he raised his free arm to the soldiers Chartan and Detrien fought and yanked as if he were pulling something out of the air. The two soldiers fell down the stairs. How Chartan avoided them was no mystery, but my cousin…Detrien whirled around avoiding them in a move he could have only learned from the master thief himself. Chartan jumped down and with momentum his sword went through the metal plate of the soldier. He then slit the throat of the other.

“You know the one thing I like about the Randish, bishop?” Detrien held the sword to Aldo’s throat. “You can kill a high ranking official and they don’t care, they just send another.”

“Saint Detrien, you don’t want to do this.” Bishop Aldo held my cousin’s shoulder. “They will avenge me.”

“No, they won’t,” Detrien said. “Because I killed the last bishop too.”

Bishop Aldo’s eyes went wide, then a thin crimson line dripped blood. Detrien let the bishop fall.

I ran to the old court mage. I knew the expression of defeat on his face. It was an expression that would welcome death. Then my friend and sorcerer slumped. Torg struggled to keep him on his feet.

“No Bowden, you can’t die, you’re not allowed.” I patted his cheek in succession to keep him awake.

He gave a weak smile. “By what decree?”

“By order of your queen.”

He bobbed his head in a strangled laugh. I looked at Torg, “Lay him down, I’ll take him.”

“My lady…”

“No, we need to get out of the city, he’s short of eighty-pounds, we need all the fighters we can get.”

“We’re not going to fight,” Chartan crouched beside me. “There’s a tunnel.”

I nodded remembering the same path Chartan took me the last time we had to flee.

“Your uncle would be so proud.” Bowden took my hand and squeezed. “You are more beautiful than I remember.”

“Bowden,” I framed my loose curls around his face. “I promise to make up for this horrible place. You’ll come with me to Xaxyia, you’ll have the best food, wine from all trades of the globe, any woman from my stable—all of them, just stay alive.”

He smiled wide, then his mirth fell. “From your stable?”

“She’s guild master of the courtesans.” Chartan bent a knee and examined the mage.

Bowden slid a venomous gaze to Chartan, raised his arm and took hold of Le Beau’s throat. The mage, too weak to do any damage barely kept his hold. Amazingly, Chartan did not try to stop him.

“You let her become a courtesan?” Bowden’s fury was going to keep him alive so I didn’t argue.

“I let her choose her own destiny.” Chartan took hold of Bowden’s wrist and moved out of the mage’s grip.

“When I’m stronger, we will discuss your failures later.” Bowden folded his arm over his chest.

“Narcissistic, arrogant, gallish mage.” Chartan softened the words with affection.

“Conceited, self-important, vain thief.”

Chartan chuckled and Bowden listed his head to the side. Like most mages, Bowden slept with his eyes half open.

Chapter 12

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9/7/2017

What I'm Watching ♦ Blue Exorcist

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Work in Progress ♦ Handle With Care (September 2017)

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Book Review ♦ Grinding My Gears: 1:30 a.m. (An Off-The-Rails Ice Era Chronicle) By C.M.Moore

10 stars out of 5

I would recommend this story to:

Dystopian readers

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Romance Suspense readers

Apocalyptic Romance readers

Romance readers who just love a good take on Romeo and Juliet

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Story Update ♦ The King's Thief (Chapter 11)

The King's Thief

What I'm Watching ♦ Blue Exorcist

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Work in Progress ♦ Handle With Care (September 2017)

Handle With Care

Want to catch up with the series?

Book Review ♦ Grinding My Gears: 1:30 a.m. (An Off-The-Rails Ice Era Chronicle) By C.M.Moore

10 stars out of 5

I would recommend this story to: Dystopian readers Sci-fi readers Romance Suspense readers Apocalyptic Romance readers ​Romance readers who just love a good take on Romeo and Juliet ​Readers hot for sexy nerds

Blurb

Book Trailer

Inside Scoop

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Go BUY this book RIGHT NOW!

Others Reviews

Goodreads reviews for Grinding My Gears

Story Update ♦ The King's Thief (Chapter 11)

The King's Thief

What I'm Watching ♦ Blue Exorcist

Categories

Archives

I would recommend this story to:

Dystopian readers

Sci-fi readers

Romance Suspense readers

Apocalyptic Romance readers

Romance readers who just love a good take on Romeo and Juliet

Readers hot for sexy nerds