Tag: Romance

Blind Salvation Excerpt: Damien

Damien

Damien glanced back at the portrait of Kennedy seated between her parents and saw something shocking. Her mother had the same colorless eyes that were a classic feature of a Seer. He looked at Kennedy once more who was headed back down the stairs with Hubert. Kennedy didn’t know her mother suffered the same plight as her. He took one last look at her father. He was much darker than both of them; but he strong features, a broad pointed nose, big muscled shoulders, hazel green eyes…even while sitting he could tell her father was over six feet like himself but there was something else off. He stepped closer to the picture for a closer inspection and realized something: Kennedy’s father was not human, at least not all of the way. Behind that smile of his and within the rows of perfect white teeth was a pair of retractable daggers. Not vampire like his…but Fae. And judging by the way that Kennedy was all too comfortable around him and his sister-not that either of them would hurt her-but her parents had raised her in the dark. Literally. She had no idea who she was.

He watched her cautiously and slowly walk down the steps back onto the first floor. His woman was a Fae? Or at least part Fae? He had thought the species to be long extinct after the wars and there had been one; a successful one at that had thrived in the human world of Bridgewood? How could his family not have known? The Fae and vampires were not enemies-not exactly friends but not enemies. They were a peaceful people who proved themselves formidable against vampires and had their own abilities and skills that put a lot of supernatural creatures to shame. And her parents left her alone after raising her as a human…without giving her the tools to properly defend herself…if Damien had never showed up in her life…He shook his head at the thought. But, then he remembered from his early teachings that the Fae never left their young in the manner that her father left her…whether they were half breeds of Full Bloods the Fae were proud of their history which means that her father had to have been running from someone or something. And as for her mother, a Seer, he doubted she did not know what she was or what she could do. He scratched his head. He was going to do some digging around tonight.

“What is the matter dear brother,” Lucinda asked startling him out of his thoughts. She turned to face the portrait and jumped back in shock when she noticed Kennedy’s mother. “Her mother was a Seer too?” Damien shook his head. “How could she not know?” “I don’t know but I have an idea,” He said as he started for the stairs. “What? Do tell me dear brother.” Lucinda said excitedly as she followed behind him. “They were running from someone or something.” “From who?” “I don’t know but keep quiet. I think Kennedy is upset remembering her parents. The trip upstairs was hard on her.” Speaking in hushed tones, Damien convinced Lucinda to stay at the house with Kennedy. He instructed her to not mention anything about his discovery of Kennedy’s parentage, something Lucinda promised to not do.  He needed to go back to the mansion and confront his father.

He met Kennedy downstairs who was busying herself in the kitchen with making herself a sandwich. She had already gave Hubert some fresh food and by the slight grumbles from her stomach, he knew she was starving. “Does your sister like the rooms?” She asked as she slapped  some Miracle Whip on a slice of wheat bread. “Yes she does,” Damien said taking a seat on one of the bar stools. “How are you feeling?” She sighed, and then grabbed some sliced turkey from the container and folded it neatly onto the bread. “I guess I am alright. It’s just that…I don’t go upstairs much. It is has been five years since…” She grabbed a thin cutting knife from the drawer and then a tomato that she had lying on the counter to slice it. But instead of slicing her tomato, she sliced her finger. “Ouch! Damn it!” She cried out dropping the knife and rushing to the sink to clean the wound. Damien was on her in an instant and took her hand and without thinking, took her bleeding finger into his mouth. She gasped in shock and he trembled from the taste. Her blood was like a dark, rich wine of the finest age. She definitely was not 100% human. He moaned but then quickly caught himself and removed her finger out of his mouth and replaced it underneath the cool water from the sink. The wound was not deep but she definitely needed a band aid. “Stay right there,” he commanded as he darted off to the downstairs bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet for a box of band aids. He found them. In seconds he was back in the kitchen wrapping her finger and trying to figure out how he was going to explain himself.

“When was the last time you fed?” She asked interrupting his thoughts. “Uh….” The last thing he wanted to discuss with her was his eating habits. “When was the last time that you have fed? You do drink blood don’t you or is there something you are not telling me?” “I fed the night before…” he said not wanting to look at her. It was funny, here he was a Prince and an heir to the greatest throne in vampire bloodlines and never once in his 300 years of existence ever felt ashamed of his thirst. But, now as he stood facing the only woman he would ever love and the means to his existence and he could bear the thought of her knowing what he did. “Do you kill them?” She asked quietly. “Who?” “The victims…do you always kill them?” He cupped her face as she stared back at him, her eyes wide and searching…and again, straining. “Would you reject me if I told you yes?” He asked, finding himself fearing her response. “No. I would not…” She said. “Then yes, not because I do not value life but because I have to. If I don’t, they will come back as-“ “Night Stalkers.” She had become an expert at finishing his sentences. He smiled and placed a gentle kiss on the bridge of her nose.

With her finger on the mend, and her neck still packed down with healing herbs and her head still bandaged, he knew that there was so much more to Kennedy that needed to be explored. She was resilient and had she been vampire, his father would have without a doubt approved of her. He gathered her in close just for that familiar and his favorite scent of hers entered his nasal cavity and ignited his sense. Her valley was blossoming and readying itself for him. He growled. “Kennedy, you are determined to make me deflower you sooner than I intended…” He murmured into her ear. “No fair!” She said playfully pushing him away. “You and your extrasensory capabilities! How did you know I was…” “Horny?” His voice deepened into a low rumble. “I can smell it.” He stalked her into the corner by the door; she backed away, nervously anticipating what he was going to do to her, and loved every moment of it. He pinned her wrists to the wall and hoisted her up , wrapping her legs around his waist so that he could push himself into her, allowing her to feel what would always be ready and waiting for her. He hungrily took her mouth and with one hand gripping her firm yet juicy behind, and the other caressing her soft and supple skin underneath her tank top and…”Ahem!” He was not sure how long his sister had been standing there but he knew one thing was certain: he wanted Kennedy with a longing that surpassed all reason. Just like that smooth mocha brown skin of hers, her core was hot and judging by the ache in her voice she wanted him just as badly. He bared fangs at his sister for the interruption and carefully let Kennedy down. He kissed her neck-the other side of it of course and she flushed with slight embarrassment. Lucinda grinned from cheek to cheek and chuckled as Kennedy slipped passed her and into the bedroom.

“You ache for her badly brother,” She cooed. “Why the wait?” “I have only known her for three days and she is a virgin. I don’t want to pressure her into anything.” He grumbled as he leaned against the wall. “ At her age?” Lucinda said in disbelief. When Damien didn’t say anything she looked around to where Kennedy had been and said carefully, ”But the way that you keep invading her space like that she does not have a choice. She cannot resist you and your charms. No female can.” Damien sighed. “I don’t want her to see me as a monster…” Lucinda calmly approached her brother and gently laid a palm on his shoulder. “I do not believe that she does brother.”

Blind Salvation: Kennedy

Kennedy

The pain that shocked her system was indescribable. It sent a fire that swept through her and consumed every fiber of her being that she felt her convulse again, over and over under her body went limp from exhaustion. She heard the familiar and loving voice of Damien, encouraging her, reminding her that he was right there and then…she hurled. Violently. Until there was nothing else left but dry heaves. A few minutes later she felt herself being lifted, her clothing removed-something she struggled against until she was reminded that it was no one else but Damien- and then her body relax as it hit the deliciously warm and sudsy water of her tub. The side of her neck ached, and she was aware that Damien was careful not to brush up against it too much. The wound was raw and the creature that did that to her, that vampire had clearly wanted to do more than kill her. Her eyes snapped open at the realization, and the tall, shadowy outline that defined Damien, spoke in soft tones to her, reassuring her that they were alone.

Guinevere was the creature’s name, and she only knew that because another one had saved her. Another vampire. And, now here she was with Damien. He cleansed her tenderly before scooping her into his arms and wrapped her in the plush robe that he had discovered in the huge walk in closet. Her mother’s. Kennedy made a mental note that maybe it was time to get rid of some things. Her parents were never coming back and all of their reminders did not help. He propped her up on the bed and she could feel him staring at her. “I don’t know what happened,” she whispered. Between the pain and the awakening fear, she did her best to fight back the tears that flooded her already bad vision but it was too much. She almost died again. “I was at the park with Hubert and she came out of nowhere,” she stammered. “She said I was the reason why you looked at her with disgust…” ‘Guinevere,” he growled. “It was Guinevere.” “Who is she and why?” She could sense Damien fidgeting around in discomfort, and it was then that she realized that there was still much more she did not know about this man or vampire. “I am a prince,” he stated with no emotion. “Guinevere is to be my bride-not by my choice. I want nothing to do with her-““-So you are engaged?” Kennedy said feeling like she just got punched in the stomach. “Yes,” Damien said dryly. “Courtesy of my father who is the King.” “When were you going to tell me?” Kennedy could barely speak, not without giving away the fact that her heart was breaking. “I have been working on finding a way out…” “I see…” “She won’t come for you again,” Damien said quickly taking her hand. “My sister Lucinda took care of that.” “And how did she know about me? How did both of them know about me?” “Guinevere caught your scent even after I showered last night. Her family has a legendary ability to track virtually anyone or anything which made them incredibly skilled…hunters. I did not know that she would find you so quickly if at all but I clearly underestimated her ability. Lucinda had been following Guinevere because she never liked her and she too had caught your scent mixed with mine…and she was able to save you. She saved you because…because of me…” Damien allowed his last statement to trail off as he studied Kennedy’s heartbroken expression. Tears streamed down her lovely brown face like a spring rain and gently wiped her face with his palm, collecting each tear as if it were a precious diamond.  He could feel the pain-not just the physical pain of the attack but the emotional turmoil that she suffered. Because of him. She was an intelligent woman. She was independent. She was not some feeble minded nor emotionally needed woman who yearned for basic companionship. She trusted him; something that he did not want to lose. As Damien continued to study her, he realized only a woman in love would allow any of this. He could feel it in her smile and the way her heart would beat erratically and frantically in his presence. Kennedy felt his gaze and put her face in her hands. This was too much. The man that she lov- the man that she…she… “I love you Kennedy,” he blurted out. The man that she was in love with was about to be married to someone else. Life sucked. Balls.

“Did you hear me,” he said. “I love you.” She had heard him the first time but could not find the strength to say it back. He had struck a chord and the floodgates reopened and more crystal tears poured down her face and her soul cried out for the release. “I love you too,” She finally managed to say. “Hopelessly in love with you…” And then she sobbed until her very soul was tired.

Blind Salvation: Damien

Damien

He made it to the mansion with just a few minutes to spare. He had just enough time to shower and dress and as he entered his version of King Louis XIV luxury suite of indulgence, he found his sister, the ever beautiful red haired beauty and royal princess Lucinda casually sitting on the edge of his 16th century styled poster bed. She glanced at him with a slight smirk on her face, looking as devious as ever. Dressed in a midnight blue strapless Christian Dior gown, she crossed her legs and eyed Damien with a look of suspicion. “You have been with a human,” she said still smiling. “I can smell her all over you. The night of the presentation and you fulfill your carnal desires with a human…” “Get out of my room Lucinda,” Damien seethed as he walked right past her and into his walk in closet that was the size of a one bedroom apartment. “Why are you acting so testy?” She teased as she slithered behind him to antagonize him some more. “I am sure father would be quite proud to know…” “As the future King of this bloodline I can do whatever the hell I want. The only thing I am obligated to do is marry the shrew and eventually give us an heir. Now get out of my room Lucinda!” Baring his fangs at his spitefully wicked sister, he turned his back to her in his continued search for something to wear. Unmoved by his anger Lucinda took a seat on a crimson red ottoman that was situated nearby and regained her composure. She fiddled with her hair which hung down loosely in a side ponytail that was curled at the ends. “My husband would have made a fine king had daddy changed the laws of the monarchy,” she said finally. “Alexander is a fine vampire who values civility and the rightful order of a society…” “Yes, well Alexander should watch himself,” Damien warned. “I have heard of his proclivities and you would have been better off marrying a Lycan than the likes of him. Hell, Rothbart would have been a better choice for you…” Lucinda gasped at the name. “Don’t say that name again in my presence.” She demanded. “Why?” Damien turned to face her. Her demeanor had transitioned from pretentious and snobbish to ghastly pale and frightened at the mention of the Slayer’s name. “You are the reason why I am even in this position. Yes, dear sister did you think I had forgotten your silly little games you played on the Slayer? The same Slayer that hunted our bloodline to damn near extinction and who left his mark on Father? You are fortunate that father did not kill you for the deeds that you have done. So, for you to come in here and taunt me about my personal affairs you should be residing in eternal hope that I do not exile you to destitution and have your precious husband executed on the spot!” Lucinda’s perfectly symmetrical face had turned beet red at the memory. Her wolf grey eyes had glittered with unfallen tears and she placed her face in her hands. “I really did love him Damien. It wasn’t a game.” Damien took a moment to study his sister and based off of her scent he could detect no lie. “Yeah? Well, tell that to Father because Rothbart has returned.” Lucinda wiped her face and stared into Damien’s midnight blue eyes. “I hope you killed whatever human you were with tonight,” she said. “I can tell by your scent that she is more to you than what you are willing to admit.” Lucinda stood up and strengthened her resolve. “If you care about her you would have killed her because now that you are about to meet your future queen I will leave you with this warning. Please consider it a parting gift from me because after tonight Alexander and I are leaving Brigewood forever. Guinevere is not the feeble minded, socially inadequate shrew that most of the members of the aristocracy believe her to be. I met her a few times and she is sadistic and evil and power thirsty. You are a prize to her: a hard earned prize and she will not settle for being second place in your life. She intends to utilize her role as your wife to its fullest capacity. Do not underestimate her.” Lucinda turned then dematerialized to the Great Hall in the house leaving Damien alone with his thoughts. He found the old world suit and tie that he was looking for and made his way to shower off the remainder of Kennedy’s mouth -watering fragrance before heading down to meet his Fate.

As always Damien was dressed to impress with his black tux and Prada’s finest leather Oxfords. With one quick glance in the mirror, he could not help but admit to himself that he looked like a living god. His long raven hair was freshly pulled back in his signature braid, the tux fitted his muscled form to perfection. Yes, he was definitely eye candy and Guinevere should feel honored that he was forced to be in her presence. He dematerialized to the Great Hall where his father and everyone in his family’s bloodline were waiting. The Great Hall, the largest room in the house was where his parents hosted many a dinner. The seating amounted to 300 and tonight it was filled to maximum capacity. Decorated in Old World Medieval elegance themes with two banners representing both families (Damien’s being red and Guinevere’s being bright green) mounted on opposite walls facing one another, Damien sighed at the spectacle.  Seated at glass tables with expensive linen’s draped across the top, each of the 300 or so guests represented every well known fashion designer from Christian Louboutin, Christian Dior, Coco Chanel, Giorgio Armani, Versace, and Marc Jacobs just to name a few. The female’s kept their gowns simple, most of them strapless and of varying colors. Most of the males were dressed in a tux and carried themselves with an air of regality that one would have thought they were in the presence of kings-not one king. The servants had worked tirelessly at preparing a feast that was fit for an emperor: serving the finest of fish, chicken, wines and a variety of side dishes that would make the Food Network look like a dish served in the local school cafeteria. Then of course, on each of the dining tables that could seat a total of ten people were helpless and very terrified and nude humans tied down as offerings for the supposed to be special day.

Working his way through the crowd he said his hello’s and performed the appropriate greetings to everyone according to their station before he finally made his way over to where his father and mother sat. His mother, Phaedra looked as divine as ever, an exact replica of her daughter, the only difference was the black mole that sat proudly above the right side of her mouth. His mother was known for uniqueness among the vampire race: she was not bloodthirsty, she did not take pleasure in terrorizing humans and she even held a certain level of respect and sympathy for them…except for tonight. She could not afford to make her husband of 600 years appear weak in front of hundreds of vampires vying for and secretly plotting for his position. He kissed his mother lovingly on the cheek before bowing to his father who gave him a slight nod in acknowledgement. “You made it on time,” Hadrian said feeling pleased with his son’s obedience. “I had no choice,” Damien replied as he took a seat next to his mother who gently patted his hand. The human male that was tied to the table and gagged gave Damien a pleading look, which Damien ignored. After tonight he was definitely going to feed. “Where is the wench?” Damien asked suddenly feeling irritated. His father laughed heartily. “She should be coming down soon, son.” “And then can I go?” His mother gave him a surprised look. “Damien, Guinevere is a lovely female. Why would you be so anxious to leave?” “Because Damien’s loins are calling out to him,” his father chided.  Damien ignored his father’s reproach and focused his attention on the door fifty feet ahead of him. He hated his life at this moment. He honestly did. If his father- and just then the door opened and everyone in the room fell silent. A tall, slender built female with magnificently dark hair and emerald green eyes met his gaze. She wore a forest green gown with thin straps that barely supported the most exquisite set of breasts that Damien had ever laid his eyes on…next to Kennedy’s of course. Her neck was bare and from her ears hung a pair of diamond earrings that illuminated a blinding sparkle. A knowing smile greeted him, as if she knew everything there was to know about Damien’s past, present and future; and she took her time approaching his table. Her father, Stefan, walked proudly behind her, his long blonde hair sprawled out across his shoulders giving him the resemblance of a lion instead of a proud and respected vampire. Her mother was as tall as she with equally magnificent dark hair that kept wrapped in a bun and she wore a simple black gown that gently caressed her small ankles as she walked. Guinevere was definitely excellent eye candy and clearly she found herself a stylist to make her look presentable for this occasion. But, as Damien watched with dread as his future wife proudly approached his table, his chest ached for only one woman: Kennedy.

Once she had finally reached the table where Damien and his parents sat, she bowed respectfully to Hadrian, and then Phaedra and finally to Damien. When her eyes met his, her irises lit up with desire and Damien respectfully smiled at her. Realizing that his enthusiasm was not the same she averted her eyes to the floor and she straightened her stance with her father guiding her over to her seat next to Damien. Hadrian stood up and proudly bellowed to the crowd, “To the future King and Queen of our glorious bloodlines! May they have many heirs and a prosperous existence!” The crowd erupted with cheers as champagne glasses were passed around. Damien was not in the mood to drink anything. He could feel himself being watched and he turned his head to face Guinevere whom had been studying him as she took a sip of her champagne. “Am I not to your liking milord?” She asked plainly. Phaedra turned to look at Guinevere who gave an awkward smile and a raised glass. Phaedra glared at Damien who simply shrugged and returned his attentions to the crowd.

It was a good while before the cheering and clinking of glasses abated and then once Hadrian was finished giving his speech addressing the importance of bloodlines and unity, only to conclude on a high note of praises towards Stefan and his family could they eat. Becoming more frustrated and irritated by the minute, Damien eyed the human hungrily and before the first plate of food was served to his table he savagely bit the frightened human. He tore deeply into the man’s jugular and with vicious pulls he drank the life forced that helped him deal with his irritable mood. Once he was finished, Damien raised his head to notice everyone in the room staring at him, even his father and mother who gave him a look of surprise and horror. Guinevere smiled and followed suit, dropping her fangs, the strike was swift and hard into the man’s thigh. Soon, a feeding frenzy erupted and Damien took this an opportunity to leave.

He dematerialized to his room where he found his phone hidden behind a desk and hooked up to a charger. There were no missed calls and then just as he was about to search for the name of the only woman he could think about came a familiar scent. Guinevere had followed him. He bared his fangs in annoyance as she took form in front of him. “Who is she?” She demanded. “Why are you in here?” He snarled violently. “Who is she?” She demanded again. “I am to be your wife and you have done nothing more than look at me with unfortunate dismay as if I were some human!” She screeched. “I don’t even know you and you are acting as possessive as a fool in love you delusional twit,” he snapped. “I am required to marry you, and if you thought that by acting as an insecure teenaged girl in the throes of a tantrum was going to make me look at you with anything more than dismay you have another thing coming.” Well that got her attention. “I will have you know that this is as much as a sacrifice for me as it is for you.” She retorted. “No it isn’t,” Damien replied coolly. “You and your family are elevated from that lowly station that you were given-for goodness sake Guinevere you get to be a queen with every right and privilege afforded to that title. So what exactly are you sacrificing? And whoever this she is that you keep inquiring about, well there is none. So, with that being said, why don’t you remove yourself from my presence before you embarrass yourself and your family any further than you have already.” Tucking his phone in his pocket, he disappeared out of the room to another, more remote location in the house leaving a furious Guinevere trembling with rage and mumbling a vow of vengeance. “I will find out who this woman is Damien.” She inhaled deeply and smiled. Guinevere’s family was legendary for their ability to track the even faintest of scents, which was how her father had found favor with the king.  Guinevere stalked out of Damien’s room with a twisted smile. “Let the games begin,” she mumbled to herself.

Blind Salvation Excerpt…: Kennedy

Kennedy stretched and relaxed back into the toasty warmth provided not only by the comforter that she was wrapped in, but by the arms of the man who had become almost like her guardian in less than 24 hours. She could hear the slow and deep inhales and exhales as he lied beside her with her body folded protectively into his arms; his body completely still and the perfect reprieve from the mundane existence that she had possessed for most of her life. She had never known what it meant to be fully contented, even with all of the amenities that her parent’s success had provided, her lack of sight had always proven to be a hindrance which made her feel like she was living a half-life. However, since the moment this man, Damien had saved her from a torturous and perhaps fatal encounter she finally had the feeling that life had given her a purpose: which meant that she would no longer be a prisoner of the dark.

She moved again, only slightly, desperate to not disturb him, but there was a sudden awakening blooming between her legs. She tried not to think about the way he kissed her with such gentle reverence; he was careful yet deliberate; his lips full and soft and a sensual delicacy that she wanted to secretly devour. No man had ever been successful in gaining her trust let alone her desire. She had grown to accept the possibility of spending the rest of her life alone unwanted and without unconditional love. She assumed that every man she would ever meet would only be able to love her conditionally: as long as she was financially stable he would give her his time and attention; he would feed that private longing of acceptance and when the time came for when he had had his fill she would be back to square one again. And yet, not even a full 24 hours later Damien had done more than earn her trust: he found the secret key to the unlocked chamber hidden beyond the gates of her beating heart.

Relax Kennedy, she thought to herself as she accidentally brushed her behind against the iron rod that protruded lengthily from between his legs. Could that be for me? She chastised herself again for wishful thinking and scooted further into the bed away from his hips. In response, he gripped her waist a little tighter and pulled her in closer, with that iron rod gently pushing, searching for an in, increasing the growing hunger for something a little more primal than food. With his arm around her waist he began to nuzzle the base of her neck and then he began to leave a trail of soft kisses from her neck to shoulder, and as much as Kennedy’s mind screamed for her to tell him to stop she surrendered to his silent demand. His body was calling her and she responded.  And then he began to purr.

The noise was barely audible, but with her eyes being weak her other senses had kicked into overdrive and so she knew what she heard. Strange, yes, she had never heard of a man purring in response to intimacy but hey, she was making noises too. She turned to face him and in the shadowy darkness she could see that internal spark that she knew everyone possessed and could be best identified as the “soul”; but his was not the golden light that she typically saw in regular people, no his was the color of a blue flame and she did not know what to make of it. She did not care. His purring grew louder as he took her mouth and eased his tongue into hers; guiding her, teaching her, showing her all the things that he could do to her if she let him. And she would.

He released her mouth and continued with his trail of kisses down her jugular and before she knew it he ripped her oversized shirt completely off. And then the purring turned into something else. He growled. Not the vicious snarl that one would expect from a dog, more or less like a lion who had its prey in its sights. But for her it was not frightening; it was orgasmic. The fire that lit through her had rocked her to the core. Her core had ripened and after a moment of contract and release the euphoria that flooded her system was maddening. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered huskily as he gently sucked, licked and teased her nipple until she exploded again. “Pleeeeaassse,” she begged. She could not have been sure what it was she was begging for but whatever it was she needed to have it. He slid his hands underneath her and pulled her sweats down and threw them to the floor exposing her. “You honor me,” he said reverently. “Oh God you honor me…” “Please be gentle…I haven’t done this before,” she breathed. Oh how she wished she could see!  He kissed the inside of her thigh before answering. “Don’t worry, I will not take you like this,” he said his voice having deepened. “But I will not leave you lost in this state either.” He kissed the insides of her thighs, sending more shockwaves into her core which reverberated throughout the course of her body, before he plunged in head first. She never knew that her voice could reach a pitch that high, but it did. He kissed, licked and ravished her until she could no longer take it and once she released she felt his body begin to vibrate uncontrollably with hers and they both cried out and he collapsed in a heap next to her. Wow was the only word that came to mind.

Blind Salvation Excerpt…

Damien

Damien sat parked in front of the monolithic mansion that happened to be his parent’s not so humble abode. Yes he was of royal blood but damn it was the only mansion of its size in Bridgewood. They would have been better off living in Beverly Hills where they would have been able to fit right in with the narcissistic and self- indulgent celebrities and plastic surgeons that took up residency in that superficial town. But his parents had an air of arrogance and regality that put even people like Kanye West and Kim Kardashian to shame. They insisted that they not even breathe the same air as those miserable and feeble minded humans. His father, who happened to be the King of their bloodline, even went as far as to threaten to eradicate every last one of those so called celebrities that lived within a 20 mile radius of their home. And so Bridgewood was the choice.

Of course, they had the mansion built a hundred years before Bridgewood blossomed into existence and simply made renovations to every decade or so to ensure that it is appropriately modernized. Flash-forward to present time, the Bridgewood Estate as it has been dubbed in the local paper had over a hundred rooms and every amenity known to human and vampire. Every once in a while some nosy reporter will come knocking at the gate demanding an interview with the owner only to either never be seen again or his memory scrubbed which has protected the family for centuries. Now, the mansion has become the focal point of many horror stories both published and produced on the big screen and sometimes Damien wished his family would just return to the Old Country where everything was simpler and less complicated.

Damien sighed. He was still hungry but after abandoning the blind woman to her own devices, he decided to just go home. He could eat there because his mother kept a room full of willing participants that would be more than happy to quench his thirst. His parents could not figure out why he felt the need to go out and hunt at all when their staff supplied them with everything they could ever need or want. But nothing could replace freedom.  His thoughts went back to the blind woman and made a mental note to return the following night. He entered in the code to the gate and drove his very expensive 2015 custom painted blood red BMW in and went straight to the underground carport.

The underground carport was a quarter of a mile west onto the estate, beneath a row of various trees and greenery that made their back yard look like a damn forest. He parked into the discreetly marked driveway and pushed the button on his phone and became as still as a statue as he and his car slowly began to submerge into the ground. It was two minutes before his car was safely parked in the cavernous underground that looked more like one of those subway stations in New York. His father’s luxury car collection was parked down there along with his mother’s black Lexus. His sister’s car was the same model as his only hers was white and he unintentionally parked right next to hers. Great. Lucinda was home.

20 feet away was the elevator that took him straight to the first level of the big house. His room was on the third floor, way at the far end and overlooking the trees. He needed to get away from everyone and everything right now. It was simply one of those days. Or nights. Whatever. Once on the first level, he walked quickly in hopes of bypassing his father’s office only for his attempt to be thwarted when his father called his name. Begrudgingly, he went inside, dreading whatever it was father felt important enough to tell him. “Yes Father?” He said stepping foot into the immaculately kept room that was filled with books, a coffee table, a desk with a matching leather seat, desktop computer with a fax machine and colored printer. The color scheme was crimson and gold, his family’s colors and behind the desk sat the undisputed King: his father, Hadrian.

Hadrian was a menacing looking vampire and his looks matched his talents. His hair was kept in a long single braid and the color of a raven like Damien’s. Instead of dark blue, his eyes were an abysmal black and a long scar extended across his face from left eye to the right side of his jaw and whoever was fortunate enough to claim that victory was no longer walking this earth. He never retracted the four inch fangs that he used many a time to rip out the throats of enemies and prey and Hadrian, despite the deep scar still remained youthful. Even at 700 years, not a single white hair. He was as tall as Damien but his brawn was much wider and thickly muscled. He was a warrior back in his prime and which lead to the many disagreements that he had with his son.  “I have made arrangements for you to marry Stefan’s daughter, Guinevere by next spring. It is time you started taking your role in life more seriously and the next step is to bring more strong vampires into the world by birth and not those pesky little night crawlers that for whatever reason keep popping up through your bite. I told you to be careful with that son…humans and their immune systems are weak and disease prone. We cannot have our food populations diminish because you can’t remember to kill them afterward.” Hadrien waited for Damien’s response and after it dawned on him what was being demanded from him Damien exploded. “I don’t want to marry that simple minded twit of a vampire! She has the personality of a rock and there is nothing we have in common. Why can’t you marry off Lucinda to some schmooze who is desperate for the throne-“ “You will marry Guinevere or suffer the consequences of failing to do so! By law you are to marry who I tell you to marry because you are our bloodline’s future king Damien! I should have married you off a hundred years ago. I think I have given you enough time to live as you want but you have responsibilities to attend to.”  “I care not for the throne father and you know it.” Hadrian glared at his son who glared back. Damien could be as stubborn as him sometimes but this was serious. He would hate to have to punish his son for failing to follow his orders but unfortunately he knew that was what he was going to have to do. “You have 24 hours to come to a decision Damien and I expect it to be the right decision.” Damien stormed out of the office without another word. There was no way around his father. They could argue from sun up to sun down and nothing would change. His father’s word was final. Hadrian returned to his seat in front of the computer screen and continued responding to his emails without a second thought.

Damien marched down the winding corridors to another elevator that led to his room. Out of all the vampire females his father could have set him up with it had to be Stefan’s daughter? His father must have owed that tired old coffin a serious favor because Guinevere was at the bottom of the social barrel when it came to bloodlines. Sure she was easy on the eye with jet black hair that she wore hanging loosely to her waistline. Yes she had eyes that shown like emeralds and soft alabaster skin. But she was a fashion failure; all of that beauty and could not figure out what to do with it. And no grace to go with any of it. She barely uttered a word and was basically the laughing stock of his race and he was being forced to wed her? Damien shook his head. His father said he had 24 hours to come to a decision, so Damien figured it would be best to make the most of the 24 hours. But first he needed to feed. He made a quick right to one of the many rooms bypassing the servant quarters, then the kitchen and finally to his destination: the Blood Room. Yanking out a set of keys from his navy blue slacks that he bought from Nordstroms, he unlocked the door. On all four walls in the secluded room hung at least 30 humans of varying ages, races, and gender. They were barely alive, having only being fed though intravenously and some of them were slipping in and out of consciousness. In the beginning they were willing participants, until the realization that they would never see the light of day again and then terror struck and all hope dissipated. This was almost more cruel than stalking a victim and brutally sending them to their death. Waiting to die was much more torturous. He selected the Goth chick with the smeared dark make up and short black hair. Like the rest of them she was nude and semiconscious. Her body was not image perfect: she was disproportionate, and he could tell that she was not really meticulous when it came to personal hygiene. She had scars on both of her wrists from frequent cutting which made Damien not feel so guilty about what he needed to do. Not that he ever felt guilty about having to feed, but with this victim, he could tell that death was what she wanted. What she craved. And he was going to give it to her. He didn’t bother to unchain her, he bit her right where she hung. The strike was swift and hard and she screamed out in shock and horror awaking the other humans who were awaiting the same fate. They screamed and struggled against their chains in terror but to no avail. Once he was finished, he left the now dead Goth right where he found her. He ignored the panic stricken cries from the remaining 29 victims and wiped his mouth. He needed to freshen up first and then he would return to that two story flat where the blind woman and the dog resided.

New Novel Following The Family Curse: Blind Salvation

Chapter One

There was something about being blind that gave Kennedy an advantage that people with sight could not possess: the ability to see into people’s souls. It was a strange phenomenon really, and Kennedy had not been able to figure out what it was until her dying grandmother informed her that it was a gift to compensate for what had been stolen from her. Her sight. Kennedy was not totally blind. She was on the border of being legally blind. She could make out shapes, and shadows and some images but her eye sight could best be compared to a dim light: barely enough light to see what was in front of her but enough to prevent her from being surrounded in total darkness. And thankfully, she had her golden retriever, a guide dog, Hubert to help her along the way.

Sitting at the edge of a park bench located in the Downton area of Bridgewood, a mid-sized city barely noticeable on a map and yet, ironically loaded with stories of the supernatural, the abnormal and the twisted. California had hundreds of cities that made this enormous state what it was, but unlike Los Angeles, or even San Francisco where a nobody could become a somebody virtually overnight; where there was the superficial promise of glitz and glamor mixed in with the fear of the criminal element topped with the hustle and bustle of everyday life, Bridgewood had its own appeal. It is the city where SyFy channel producers probe for stories of the undead and ghastly apparitions; where the die-hard vampire fanatics took up residence and formed their own covens in hopes of a chance encounter with a blood sucker; where the outcasts come to find acceptance and where the spiritually dead seek Purgatory. And Bridgewood was her home.

Like every city, town and locale there of course were schools, hospitals, police and fire departments; bars and local eateries, homes for every income level; shopping centers, malls…etc… Bridgewood did have a couple of junior colleges and one university that had a well-respected nursing program: Bridgewood University. So, the city did have a sense of normalcy. However, the mysterious air of the paranormal cloaked the city like an invisible fog, and as much as Kennedy loved the city, she found herself wondering why her parents had decided to move here 30 years ago.

With Hubert plopped down comfortably at her feet, she took in what little visual she could muster from her surroundings. The sun had begun to set, in a slow descend beneath the horizon leaving a trail of orange and pink and purple as a promise of its return. Children were still laughing and playing even this late in the evening with the crisp Autumn chill penetrating her beige sweater causing her to slightly shudder. She listened to the playful sounds of children running and playing in their attempts to hold on to their remaining moments of childhood freedom. It was nice. Kennedy found herself wishing for a childhood of running, chasing, jumping, without fear of bumping into someone or something or worse. And, now as the approaching holidays made their presence known with the advertisement of Thanksgiving specials and Black Friday Deals, Kennedy remembered that she was now alone in the world. Her parents dead; family distant; no siblings and hardly any friends. Someone might be courteous enough to give her a call on Thanksgiving and Christmas but no invite. Her mother died from cancer and her father of a heart attack, possibly from grief, and all in the same year which was in 2009, five years ago. Moreover, it made no sense to wish for a childhood where at least her parents were alive and well when in the present she was utterly alone. She patted Hubert gently on his side indicating she was ready to go home. He barked in response and as she grabbed a hold of his leash, she reached for her walking stick and bid farewell to the park. She would not be returning.

The walk home was brief and uneventful. Hubert led the way because with the encroaching darkness the shadows bled into one which made the darkness seem- all consuming. She lived in the same two story flat that she grew up in. Fortunately both of her parents had been successful in real estate; and through their success accrued a vast amount of wealth that not only made her childhood comfortable and bearable but now which is what she survived off of. As a matter of fact they were the most successful African Americans in the business when they were alive. She did receive her monthly disability check which is what she used to pay for her basic expenses, but for anything indulgent she used what her parents had left her.

With little difficulty she retrieved her keys from her pocket and struggled just a little with gloved hands to open the door. Hubert barked and then pushed the door open making room for both of them to enter. Closing the door behind her and releasing Hubert’s leash she had a strange sensation that she was being watched but quickly shrugged it off. Hubert jumped onto the wall nearest the kitchen with his nose flicked the lights on. It was bright enough for her to not have to be entirely dependent on the dog. Hubert then ran upstairs and proceeded to do the same thing in every room in the house (including the bathroom) so that she could have some independence. “Good boy!” She praised as Hubert quickly returned panting heavily and nudging her gently for a scratch behind the ears. She continued to pet the dog until he had his fill of affection and then he turned around and strolled to his favorite place by the heater and plopped down on one of the many extra- large pillows she covered the living room floor with.  Kennedy dropped her keys on the glass dining room table her parents had bought over a decade ago and removed her black and grey scarf, tossing it next to her keys. Running her fingers through her braided hair, she could not think of what to do next. Television was out of the question, she could barely see what was on the screen and she most definitely not listening to the radio. That made her feel antiquated. She sighed. “I need a life. I need a friend. I need SOMETHING!”  Hubert barked as if to remind her that he was her friend, and she shook her head at the dog. “I love you Hubert,” she said feeling suddenly exhausted. “But some days I do not feel human.”  Using her cane she took a seat on one of the three funny looking metal bar stools her mother purchased from one of those futuristic furniture stores and slipped her boots off.  “I’ll be in the room Hubert,” she said to the dog who again barked in response as if to say “Ok.”  Grabbing her cane she slid off of the stool and felt her way down the hall to what used to be her parent’s bedroom and collapsed on the King sized bed that they once used. “I need a change in my life,” she mumbled into the blankets. “A drastic change…” And little did she know that a drastic change was on its way.

Another Excerpt From: The Family Curse

Chapter 5

I awoke to the gentle sound of an A.C., while draped in the soft cushiony warmth of blue and black comforter. I sat up to witness the low light of a fire crackling in a fireplace. Nino was dressed in a pair of black pajama pants and nothing else while sitting across from me on a leather love seat. He smiled sheepishly at me as the realization of what transpired hit me like a ton of bricks. There are no words to describe my humiliation. “You had me worried for a second,” he said as he got up to approach the bed. “This is sooo embarrassing.” I say as I bury my face in the pillow. “No, it’s not. That was…” “It was what?”  “Intense. I didn’t know that you could do that. I always knew my love making skills were top notch, but you took both us to new heights.” Whatchoo talkin’ bout Willis? “Huh?” I remove my face from the pillow to face him. “You basically dematerialized both of us and then rematerialized us as you climaxed. In all of my years I have never experienced anything like that. It was terrifyingly exhilarating. And in the process you were glowing so brightly I wasn’t sure if you were literally going to combust.” “But I passed out.” “Yes, but not before you did all that and then some…and I have always managed to control myself with you but sweetheart you caused me to drop fang do something that I said I would never do…” “You bit me,” I sat up, still covering myself with the blankets having realized that I am still naked. “But, it’s alright…I’m ok. Really.” I place my hand on the spot where he bit me and I could feel the puncture wounds. It felt awesome at the time when he did it, but now I can feel it. It was sore as hell and slightly swollen. “I am immune so don’t worry. I kind of forced you to.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what the consequences are for that…I mean I feel different, but in a good way. I feel stronger and reenergized. But I will not take from you like that again. You have my word.” “Nino, I am fine. I can cover it with a band aid and some make up. And besides, I wanted it just as much as you…” I kiss his cheek. “So, where am I?”  In your new home.” Nino smiled at me sheepishly. Did he just say what I think he just said? “Uh, what?”  “A man tells his woman that she is in her new house and you have nothing to say?” I don’t know if that was a statement of pure sarcasm or if he felt a little disappointed in my lack of response or a combination of both. I needed a second to take everything in. Before our cosmic love making session on the beach he told me that he was giving me a house; and before I became a walking glow stick in the restaurant he gave me his heart. I gently reach over and touch that smooth, cleanly shaven, olive skin of his and place my lips gently on his. There are no words to describe how much I love this man-how much I need him. He returns what I offer but with much more intensity and that fire that I always keep on a slow burn ignites once again into a raging flame. He yanks the covers off of me exposing my naked, brown skin and I desperately want him to cover me with his. His body is built like a tightly coiled spring: lean and full of power.  Our bodies intertwine and he nuzzles the other side of my neck indicating that he wants more…he wants in…But then he kisses my shoulder and in an instant is off of me and slipping on a pair of grey sweats while at the same time giving me a lopsided grin. His sweats do little to cover a massive erection and I tremble at the thought of all the things I could do to it; and it to me. “Why must you do this to me babe?” I whine as a drape the comforter back over my body. “Because I really want you to see the interior of the house…” Before I could even blink he disappears through a pair of French doors and reemerges with a short, silk black robe and holds it out for me to see. “Here,” he says. “Put this on. I will have to eh…replace the clothes that you had on earlier today. We had to leave in a bit of a hurry.” He chuckles while he hands me the robe and I clumsily slip it on. I don’t even bother acknowledge his amusement because it is too embarrassing to think about.

Taking my hand he leads the way down a corridor which then leads to one of those Gone with the Wind type of staircases. Everything about the house was modern; the décor was of course a black and white theme with accents of red and gold dispersed sporadically in various paintings, vases, and other odds and ends that bring out the character of the house. The house was small compared to the monoliths and overpriced mansions that the ridiculously wealthy loved to splurge their abundance of riches on. But nonetheless, I love it. I love every inch; every nook and cranny; every centimeter of the four bedroom two story house that now belonged to me. The kitchen is a professional chef’s dream, with a state of the art oven and stove, a fridge cold enough to freeze over Antarctica and wide enough to store food for several winters. My mother would lose her ever lovin’ goddess mind if she ever stepped foot in here. I myself am not much of a cook but my dear mother can throw down in the kitchen. I would love for her to see it. I think if she saw how much Nino loves me and what he is willing to do for me, she will love him as much as I do. But, I cannot think about that now.

All I can think about is how fabulously well -furnished each room is; how carefully decorated; and my favorite room in the house is the last bedroom which happened to be turned into a mini library. Nino is the only man I have ever dated who appreciates my love of books. Since the day that I met him he has kept me well stocked with my favorite authors while at the same time introducing me to new ones. And, now here I stand in a room filled with bookshelves, and queen sized bed with several hefty pillows stacked on top of it, and placed smack dab in the center of it all. And when Nino drew back the sun colored drapes and allowed the last few rays of the sun soak up the room, the visual itself was an offering of complete serenity. Instinctively I wrap myself into Nino’s already welcoming embrace and we stand that way for what should have been an eternity.

Once the sun is set and it is the stars’ turn to light the sky Nino asks,” Will you accept?” “Do you really have to ask?” I smile. “Hell yeah I accept! What woman would not?” “Then will you at least move in with me? I want you with me all the time and I hate dropping you off to be alone in-don’t take this personal- that tiny apartment of yours.” “Hey,” I gently poke him in his ribcage. “That is still my apartment you know…” Feigning annoyance I pull away from him and turn around with my back to him. “I don’t know…” “What? Why?” Nino stuttered. “It is just that I like my tiny apartment…and then there is my job. Nino, what you are asking is to give up the little that I worked hard for. What I have is mine. I don’t know what the future holds-“ “ I will give anything to have you with me when the sun rises and when the sun sets Rita,” Nino says as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind. “I have waited for a woman like you for hundreds of years and I refuse to live another second with her living alone without me. The house is in your name so you can do what you want with it at your will. I will never override your need for independence. But, if I am willing to give you and have given you everything a man could give to a woman he needs as much as his own breath, all I ask is one simple request: say yes.” For the first time in my 28 years of existence, instead of listening to the screaming voices in my head offering me valid reasons why I should say no; I go with the beating voice in my heart… I say: ”Yes Nino. Yes. Should I call my job and quit over the phone or give them a two week resignation notice?” He unties the black robe and watches it as it slides from my shoulders and onto the floor and stares at me greedily. I want to be devoured.  So, I take it that the answer to my question is a very loud no. I won’t need any make-up for tomorrow

.Artemis The Family Curse will be available December 25, 2014.

Spoiler: Love At Last….#Him

Chapter 6

Him

It had been two weeks since me and King’s fall out. I only went back to the apartment once and that was when I knew for sure he was not there. My brother had come with me to collect the rest of my things: my clothes, personal paper work such as my car insurance policy, and that was basically it. He could have it ALL. I am just so ready to move on with my life and to start anew. I mean, don’t get me wrong, in the two weeks that King and I have been apart, I did miss him-terribly. The night that I left, King called me so much that I had to turn my phone off just to get some peace. The first twenty voicemail messages he left were basically him begging for me to come home. “Baby I’m sorry”, “So when are you going to come home”, and “I miss you”, you know the usual. The same thing went with the fifty plus text messages he sent and all of them went ignored. I did not speak to him until three days later, after I had cried and vented to my mom and my brother so much that I was beyond exhausted. I even called out of work for a couple of days because I just could not pull it together. Kendra had even called, and like King’s her calls went unanswered. I will deal with her in due time. My mom did tell me that Kendra did come by, but since I was finally sleeping so peacefully, she did not want to disturb me. But, like I said, I will deal with her in due time. Patience has always been my virtue.

So here I am back at work and trying to get back into the full swing of things; but as a single woman. I no longer feel like I have to work for two people. I do not have to come in super early to squeeze in some overtime. I can sleep at night, peacefully without having to deal with King and his insomnia issues. I do not have to deal with King at all…Sitting in front of my computer screen struggling to concentrate on imputing the client’s information into the system, it is hard to digest the fact that I am…free. Free from King and all of his drama. Free from tears and burrowed resentment. Free to be who I am. Free to…just then my line rings. “Lender’s Disability, this is Danielle speaking. How may I help you?” I say clearly and confident into the receiver. Damn, even my confidence has went up. “Danielle, this is King”. My heart drops. Of course King would call me at work. “What is it?” I say. God this man just refuses to leave me alone. “So you are just not coming home, huh?” That was not really a question. It was more of a demand. “And why should I King?” “Look I was wrong. We can work this out. We have been together for five years, Danni” (now he is using my nickname…typical but not going to work). I roll my eyes wishing that I could be somewhere else doing something else-anything but being in this moment, having this conversation. “And what does that mean?” I ask. “There is nothing to work out.” “So what after one little fight you’re just willing to throw everything away?” King replied. By the way he sounded, he seemed a little…hurt. “You threw everything away every time you lied to me…every time you” (I whispered into the receiver so that no one could hear what I had to say next) “slept with other bitches and especially when you put your hands on me King. You blamed me for everything that went wrong in your selfish little world and-““Baby I’m sorry…” He croaked. “Yes King you are sorry. And I bet the only reason why you are even putting this much effort into bringing me back is because you have no idea how you are going to pay the rent on your own this month.” There was a pause. “Man fuck you then Danielle. I don’t need your stupid ass anyways-“There was something in those words fuck you that made me see pure red. This was the last time he was going to utter those words to me ever again. “Good. Because after tomorrow I am removing my name from the cable, the lights, the gas AND that lease. Have a nice life King.” And, with that I disconnected the call.  Suddenly, I felt a massive headache coming on so I reach into my bottom drawer and pull out a bottle of Advil that I keep on hand for moments like these. I get up and walk a few steps over to the communal water cooler, grab one those itsy-bitsy Dixie cups and fill the cup with water. Just as I pop my pill and take a seat, Martha, the firm’s receptionist who was also a charmingly vibrant older woman with an infectious Colgate smile, tanned skin and blue eyes approaches my desk. She had to be in her fifties but had such a youthful spirit, her age was the last thing anyone ever thought about. She wore her hair cut short in one of those Bob type styles and she recently died her hair this reddish brown color. Today she wore a yellow cardigan with matching wedge shoes and grey slacks. She wore a look of deep concern on her face. I force myself to smile. “Hey Martha. How are you?” She smiles back. “I’m ok Danielle, but the question is are you?” I raise an eyebrow, please don’t tell me King called and is harassing everyone in the building. “I’m fine. What’s going on?” She clears her throat before speaking. “There is a young man who keeps calling here looking for you. He told me his name was King. I think you should get back to him as soon as possible.” All I could do was shake my head. “Either that or file a restraining order against him.” “Thank you Martha, will do.” I turn and face the computer screen and pretend to be preoccupied with something of importance so that I won’t have to respond to the probing questions she has written all over her face. “Seriously Danielle, you should get a restraining order or at least tell that young man of yours to leave you the hell alone.” With that, Martha turned to go back to her desk. All I could do is rub my temples and pray that the day went on without any more King issues. But, like most things that have happened to me in my life, the thought alone was too good to be true.

The day went on without a hitch. King did not call me at all since and that was great. I just want to be done with the situation. After I punched out for the day and slipped my favorite bubble gum pink flip flops on, I begin my walk to the train station. I pull out my phone and my headphones so I would not have to be entertained by my thoughts that could easily turn depressing, and I guess I wasn’t paying much attention because I accidentally walk right into a young man who was exiting a tattoo shop. I dropped my phone while my headphones went flying in another direction. He and I both bend down at the same time to pick up my phone only to make a clumsy situation even clumsier. We bumped heads. “I am so sorry!” I shout, immediately straightening myself out. He hands me my phone. “It’s all good ma’. Are you alright?” I accept my phone and nod, “I’m ok. How about yourself?” Just then, our eyes meet and I do not want to sound cliché but there was a very strong connection. It was as if I knew him from somewhere, but where? I immediately brush off the feeling and scold myself for being so silly. Clearly we are not two star-crossed lovers. What I am is an emotional wreck and incredibly vulnerable and…those eyes, those slanted almond shaped eyes…”I’m good ma’. Hey you look real familiar do I know you from somewhere?” He asked. Couldn’t be…or could it? Stuff like this only happens to white people in movies. Maybe I’m trippin’…”No, don’t think so,” I say. I put my phone in my bag. I gotta get out of here, I think to myself. I think I am going crazy. “You seem like a nice person,” Mr. Slanted eyes says. “I am, or at least I try to be,” I reply. I check my watch. “Are you in a hurry? Where are you coming from?” “I uh, ummm I am coming from work…” “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be in your biz or nothing it’s just-“No, no it’s fine. You’re good.” I hate myself. I’m such a lame. “Oh ok cool.” My mind is telling me to leave and that I have enough issues (namely King) but my feet refuse to listen. “So, you were getting a tattoo?” I ask, wishing that I could think of something else more charming or witty to say just to keep us trapped in this moment for just a few minutes longer. “Oh no ma’ I was here earlier with one of my homeboys while he was getting tatted up and I lost my brand new IPhone 5 so I came all the way back here to see if anyone found it. I’m pissed off man.” He looked around and then back at me. “That sucks. Those phones are super expensive…you had insurance on it though, right?” “Yeah, but they was like, it’s gonna take 7-14 business days, so I am basically without a phone until then. Plus all of my contacts and pictures of my son…” In the dimming light I could see his frustration. “Well, again I am sorry about your phone. But, I really have to get going now. I still have a train to catch.” “Oh you’re catching the Redline?” he asked. “Uh yes…” “Oh, well would you mind if I walked you?” I was not sure what to do at that moment other than say, “I don’t mind”.  And there it was. We walked a steady, even pace and during the first few minutes of silence I snuck peeks at him. He wasn’t very tall. As a matter of fact he was shorter than King. He was maybe 2 inches taller than me and I am 5’7”. He had a slim build and a medium brown complexion. His lips weren’t full, but they were nice, he was clean shaven even though his moustache and beard looked more like peach fuzz. But I just couldn’t get over his eyes. He must have caught me looking at him because then he said,” You look good too ma’”. I never blushed before, and black people (unless they are very light) do not blush, but I felt the blood rush to my face. I couldn’t help but respond with a cheeky grin. “I forgot to ask,” he goes on, “but do you have a man? I got so caught up in not letting you get away that I-““NO!” I did not mean for it to come out that way but it did. “I mean, no, no I don’t”. Then he and I just burst out laughing for seemingly no reason at all. We continue on with our walk. “So what’s your name?” I ask. Good Lord, I am actually nervous. I thought all sense of shame went out the window with King, but I guess not. “Trey,” he says. “And yours ma’?” “Danielle.” I don’t really understand the whole “ma’” thing, but whatever. He could call me “ma’” all he wants. “Danielle…” he breathes, “so what do you do Miss Danielle. You look real professional,” his eyes gloss over me as if he taking me in and storing me away in a mental rolodex…and then he sees my feet. Mind you I keep my feet pedicured so there is never any crust I need to be ashamed of but my bubble gum colored flip flops did look out of place with my grey slacks and black my black blazer with white tank. “Please don’t judge me,” I giggle, “But my shoes were killing me and I keep a pair of flip flops on me for after work.” He cracks a smile. “It’s all good. I get it. I have five sisters so I know how it is.”  In that instance, the walls came tumbling down on both parts. We both opened up about our lives and what we had to deal with and what we wanted in the future. I briefly talked about King and I informed him that our relationship was over for good. He talked a little about his sons mother and what she was putting him through, and to me, she sounded like a piece of work. Of course, you can’t believe everything a person tells you because folks lie and because you typically hear only one side of the story. But, the woman did sound like she had a couple of screws loose. By the time we made it to the platform, I felt like I had known him forever. “So where do you get off at?” he asked. I told him the name of the stop and that I also have to transfer trains. “Damn ma’ you live that far?” I nod. It was strange. I didn’t want him to leave. I could have stayed on that platform all night just to be in his presence for a while longer. He must have read my mind because he says, “I will ride with you, and don’t worry about me being a stalker it’s just that it is late and a woman such as yourself has no business riding a train alone.” I thought I had died and went to Heaven. I have a hard enough time trying to get a man to open a door for me let alone ride a couple of trains with me just to see me safe. I didn’t know what to do or how to even react. “Thank you but you don’t have to do that. I’m a big girl, I do this daily.” “You need a car ma’.” He said. If it was not for the fact that he had already earned 1000 points in my book, I might have been offended. “I have a car. It’s parked at my last stop in the parking lot. I just hate driving the freeway.” If his jaws could have fallen to the floor, I am quite sure they would have. He seemed stunned. It was obvious he wasn’t expecting that. “Well I’ll be damned. Alright then,” he said. “But I am still going to ride with you and I will even walk you to your car.” Would it have been too much if I had kissed him right then and there? I feel like I am in a dream. “Sounds good…I could use the company”, was my reply.

The train ride, well to be specific, all three train rides had me in a bliss. On each train he sat on the seat nearest the edge, like he was protecting me from everything and everyone-and I never felt safer. He wore a black hooded sweater over some khakis, and black and white Nikes. The day had finally gave way for night and the air was borderline freezing. The evening rush was near its end and I found myself wishing that I had a time machine just so I could start the day over again and relive this magical encounter. Our conversation never ceased, even when we changed trains, it was like we were in our own world…truly an enchanted moment. By the time we had exited my last train and he escorted me to my car, I felt bad that he had traveled so far with me. I started to ask him if he needed a ride but as soon as my mouth moved to say a word he says,” Don’t worry about me ma’. My car is parked right over there at that tattoo shop.” “But I feel so bad that you traveled all this way with me and now you have go all the way back.” He shook his head. “It was worth it, believe that.” “At least let me drive you…” “I thought you hate driving the freeway?” He smirked “I do but-““No buts,” he said. “Unlock your car.” I hesitated for a moment. Fear began to creep in. Was this a set up? I do so against my better judgment and he walks along to the driver side and opens the door. “Get in.” I do as instructed and once I am inside, I say, “You forgot to ask for my number.” His smile is big…and beautiful. “I surely did. Damn ma’, you got a nigga all discombobulated. You got a pen and some paper? You know what happened to my phone”. I reach over into my glove compartment and find a pen and a pad. I write my number down. “Don’t lose this.” I tell him. Then I scold myself for sounding desperate. He laughs. “Trust me I won’t. Now, start your car. I’m not leaving until I see you drive off.” This man unknowingly scoured another two million points in my book. King who? I fasten my seatbelt and start my car. “I feel like I am saying goodbye to my best friend or something,” he chuckles. “Me too,” I say a little sad. “But look ma’ I’m going to call you. I never met a woman like you before…let alone ride three trains with her to her car. Be safe ma’.” “Goodnight Trey. I look forward to that call.” And with that I rolled up my window, reversed, and honked my horn as a final goodnight and I pulled away. And as I drove off I felt like I   had just left that missing piece of me right there in the parking lot.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/465611

Spoiler: Love At Last…Meet Danielle.

Chapter One

Danielle

Monday Is a Bitch

I hate early mornings, but I especially hate MONDAY mornings. But hey, I know that I am not alone in my hatred for the first day of the work week. You see, Monday mornings are incredibly hectic in my household; they are constant reminders as to why I should be single. My boyfriend of five years live together in a small one bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, and before I go any further, rent ain’t cheap ok? Which means that we BOTH have to work. Unfortunately, I am the only one who does (and has been since the first of last year when he lost his job as an account manager for a mid-sized security company) and I will most assuredly get to that later. So, for over a year I have found myself having to go in TWO hours early just to squeeze in some overtime. As a matter of fact last week I had to beg, plead and borrow just to scrape up the money to turn our lights back on AND buy some food for the house. Any who, back to the reason why Mondays are a bitch: I have to get up at four, attempt to do some housekeeping before I leave (even though I will have to do it again when I come home) and then beat feet out the door before “his majesty” wakes up and asks me a million questions which when dealing with him has the potential to make me late. And God forbid he rolls over and decides that he wants some early morning “cookie”. But thankfully, today is the day that period has decided to grace me with its presence, so just as I am grabbing my bag and my jacket, I hear nothing but loud snoring coming from the bedroom.

I hate driving, especially downtown Los Angeles so I usually just park my car (a 2000 all white Honda Accord) in the Green-line parking structure and ride the train to work and today is no exception. I park my car between a beat up forest green Sudan and a 1995 funny colored BMW, slip on my flip-flops (yes I wear them on my way to work. You try walking in five inch heels all day riding public transportation and walking to and fro and you will quickly find out that before the end of the day, your feet will hate you.), load my “work shoes” and my lunch in my favorite tote bag, do a once over in my mirror to make sure I at least do not have any food stuck in my teeth and make my way to the train. I say a little prayer that even at 5:15 in the morning, my ride to work is uneventful and that instead of laying in the bed all day and eating us out of house and home, the man with the title “boyfriend” is in front of the computer screen and making use of the resume I put together for him. I hate Mondays. I really do.

I work for a small law firm on 5th and Wilshire as a legal assistant. The pay is ok, all things considered but being the go-getter that I am I am working on my paralegal certification. And before you say anything Paralegals make good money, at least in my case good enough for me to move on from my living situation. Don’t get me wrong, I am sure somewhere in the pit of my stomach I do love King (again don’t. say. Anything. I am not the one who named him) BUUUUUUUUUUT he has done quite a bit of damage not only to me but to our relationship and as I have gotten older and much more mature I have realized that I don’t have to take that shit. Excuse the ghetto that just came out of me but it is the truth.

Moving on, I already have my Bachelors of Arts in Liberal Studies from Cal-State Dominguez but what the hell am I going to do with that? Now that the job market is messed up I need to do something that is practical and that I will not have to worry about the field coming to an end. And it is painstakingly clear that people with legal problems are never going to go away and there is such a wide range of law to work around in, I figured why not? I did at one time want to be a lawyer, which is still a dream that I may pursue, and I already work at a law firm so again, why not?

So, where was I? Oh yes, so I work as a legal assistant at a Disability law firm. I have been there for a little over two years and I feel that it is time for some advancement. Between being the sole provider for my household AND paying off my student loans, I most definitely need to upgrade. It is unfortunate that I am the only African American, black person, Negro, whatever the politically correct term for a person of African descent is that works at the firm. Everyone else is either Mexican, or white and there is that lone Asian that ironically works in accounting. I have good report with everyone, or in laymen’s terms, it is pretty chill. I actually enjoy working in a professional environment. My pay is salary based and not hourly; I know that everyone here has some formal degree of education or training and my benefits package is nothing to complain about: full medical and dental coverage, 401K, a free gym membership to 24 Hour Fitness (which I have yet to use) and access to a company owned time share in Lake Tahoe.

Stepping off of my last train, it is now almost six in the morning and my REAL shift does not begin until 9, but I have to do what I have to do so I guess I should not complain. The walk is a long 15 minutes and I say long because each block is a stretch. The sun has yet to fully peek over the horizon; the early shades of blue are barely breaking through the still darkened sky. The air is crisp, clean and ridiculously chilly. Granted, it is still in the middle of winter (early January) and I do prefer the cold but as I expressed earlier, it is Monday and I would have still loved to lay in the bed for an extra hour. My toes have lost all feeling due to the freezing temperature, but once I am inside the building and can relax and enjoy the warmth and comfort of the heater, my toes will be just fine.

Throughout the course of my walk, I realized nothing has changed in this area. I see the same old abandoned buildings that squatters have taken control of; the streets are littered with trash and last night’s festivities; I see the same drunkard passed out on his favorite bus bench snoring peacefully; and the same homeless woman who has been on the streets for so long she has forgotten who she is. She reeks of a combination of smells; smells that are from her lack of care in her personal hygiene and just from living in the streets. She holds what appears to be meaningful conversations with herself as there is no one who is physically there to entertain her. There have been days where it was quite clear that whoever she was talking to had pissed her all the way off and as I am a couple of blocks away from her I could still hear her voice ranting and shouting at the top of her lungs at this invisible manifestation of her outrage. My heart goes out to her, and today is not any different.

As I finally approach the building where I work I quicken my pace because it is a little after six and I need as much overtime as I can get, but just as I open the door to enter the five story building my phone buzzes. It’s a text message from King. It read, “What time are u off?” It takes everything in me to not reply with something nasty but instead I swallow my anger and reply,” 6. Why?” He does not answer me back and at this point I could care less. It is a damn shame that at six in the morning I already have an attitude so I turn my Samsung Galaxy III off and toss it back in my bag. I acknowledge the overweight security guard who sits at his desk in the lobby with a quick,” Good morning” and make my way over to the ladies room to put on the black pumps that I purchased from Target. The shoes add an additional four inches to my already 5’7” height. My black slacks are slimming and my favorite white gold buttoned blouse makes me feel a bit better about myself. Here at work, I keep my black shoulder length black hair pulled back in a neat little bun and since I wear no make-up I take pride in keeping my cocoa brown skin healthy looking. I do one last once over in the mirror, apply some Chap stick and even though by no stretch of the imagination am I fat, I remind myself that maybe it is time that I use that free gym membership. Then I make my way to the elevator, press the button for the fifth floor and prepare to start my day. Monday mornings are truly a bitch. Let’s hope that the rest of the day is not.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/465611